"My dear Mrs.Wick, you _are_ looking worn out! Try my sal volatile--I insist!" and in the general greeting momma was seen to back violently away from a long silver bottle in every direction.

Poppa had to interfere.

"If it's all the same to you, Aunt Caroline," he said, "Mrs.Wick is quite as usual, though I think the Middle Agedness of this country is a little trying for her at this time of year.

She's just a little upset this morning by seeing the cook plucking a rooster down in the backyard before he'd killed it.

The rooster was in great affliction, you see, and the way he crowed got on momma's nerves.