family at all." 

 "I was brought up never to brawl in the open," says the wife, "so I'm lettin' your insults go. This boy is fresh from the mountains of Vermont. He's never been to New York in his life and he's comin' here now to make his mark." 

 "I'll lay you eight to five I'm the mark!" I says. 

 We was at the station then, so we had to practise self-denial and quit scrappin'. The wife explained that she had hardly got to Lakewood when she found a telegram there from her cousin Alex sayin' that he was comin' down for a visit. So she beat it right back to meet him, not wantin' the poor kid to breeze into a town like New York, all by his lonesome. 

 Well, we stand in the middle of the waitin'-room like a couple of boobs for a while, and then a guy, which I figured must be a college devil bustin' into a new fraternity, comes gallopin' across the floor, slams a suitcase down on my foot and throws his arms around the wife's neck. He had on a cap which could of been used as a checker board when you got tired of wearin' it, a suit of clothes that must of been made by a maniac tailor and the yellowest tan shoes I ever seen in my life. If he had been three inches taller and an ounce thinner, you could of put a tent around him and got a dime admission. On his upper lip, which was of a retirin' disposition, he had a mustache that was an outright steal from Chaplin. 

 I watched him and my wife embrace as long as I could stand it and then I tapped her on the shoulder. 

 "I suppose this is Alex, eh?" I says—while he looks at me for the first time. 

 "You got Sherlock Holmes lookin' stupid!" admits the wife.  "Alex, meet my lord and master." 

 "Howdy, cousin!" hollers Alex.  "I knowed you the minute I seen you from them, now, big ears you got. Y'know they went to work and printed your picture in the Sunday papers last month on a charge of havin' won the, now, pennant for—Well, that's neither here nor there. I come here to make good! A feller with brains can always do that in these big rube towns like New York. Of course a baseball player don't need no brains—you know that yourself and—" 

 "C'mon, Alex," butts in the wife quickly, seein' I was gettin' ready to grab Alex by the neck.  "We'll go right up to the flat and have something to eat. I'll bet you haven't had a bite since you left home—you ought to be starved by 

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