pout that formerly helped sell the magazines. To be level with you, I was—mad and all. "Why, dearie!" I remarks, kissin' her. "You know I—" "Easy with the oil!" she cuts me off. "Get on your hat and coat; we're goin' right down to Grand Central Station." "Don't you think it's liable to tire you, honey," I asks her, "runnin' back and forth from Lakewood like this?" "I'm not goin' to Lakewood, Stupid," she says. "We're goin' down to meet Alex Hanley—of course you remember him?" I threw in the self-starter on the old brain, but there was nothin' doin'. "No!" I says. "To come right out with it—I don't. I realize though that he must be a lu-lu when we're goin' down and meet him at the station. What did he do—lick Dempsey?" "Idiot!" says the wife, callin' me by her favorite pet name. "He's my cousin." Oh, boy! We was goin' down in the elevator and I sunk in the seat with a low moan. In the short space since me and the wife had been wed, I had met her father, six brothers, four nephews, three cousins and a bevy of her uncles. They all claimed they was pleased to meet me, though they couldn't figure how their favorite female relative come to fall for me—and then they folleyed that lead up with a request for everything from a job to ten bucks. "All right, dearie," I says, finally, "I'm game! Believe me, though, while your family is all aces to me on account of bein' related to you, I often find myself wishin' that you had been an orphan!" "I could of married a couple of millionaires!" sighs the wife. "And to think I turned 'em down for you!" "If you had married a couple of millionaires, you would of been pinched!" I says. "What d'ye think this cousin of yours will want to start off with, from your affectionate husband?" "Nothin'!" she tells me. "Alex never asked a favor in his life. Believe me, this one is different!" "I can see that from here!" I says. "If you claim he won't take me for something he's different, all right. In fact I can hardly believe he belongs to the
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