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 of glossy white frosting. At an earlier hour there had been some writing on it in raised frosted letters, but Sue had a small brother. Mrs. Cudahy hadn't wanted the nuisance of serving a lot of people; so she arranged for them to help themselves when prompted by their own desires. There was a ham on the table with a sharp knife beside it. One supposed that she had no aversion to one's using the same knife on the boiled tongue. There were crackers, bread, pickles, and a bowl of innocuous punch that was made from adding water to fruit juices which were already half water. Some bananas and apples lay unconcernedly in a glass bowl on the sewing-machine. They were no part of the party. They had arrived long before the party and expected to witness Sue's wedding. Dot knew they were no part of the party because there was no lace doily under their bowl.

The noise in the parlor was something terrible. A great many girls have sharp voices. The trip down the hall blunted them somewhat; so Pat Macy stood in the dining-room eating a great many crackers. Mrs. Cudahy thought him a hog and said as much. Pat merely said, "All right, pardon me," and returned to the parlor. No hard feeling between him and Mrs. Cudahy.

In the parlor the party was in hysterics at the antics of the party clown. He was giving his own impression of a husky-voiced fellow trying to sell cough drops. He was awfully funny. And so willing. He recited ever and ever so many comic poems and sang a song. The song proved a foolish move on his part, for it reminded six or seven other guests of their own accomplishments. One, a chap named Bernstein, with a remarkable Jewish accent, thought of his customary contribution to things of this sort before anybody else did.

"Say, Brownie," he shouted across the room, "reminds you of my 'Fireman' song, don't it?"