The variations were where she made a mistake and struck the right note.

Then Cleopatra moved up to the squeaky end of the piano and gave an imitation of a Swiss music box.

It sounded to me like a Swiss cheese.

Presently Cleopatra ran out of raw material and subsided, while we all applauded her with our fingers crossed, and two very thoughtful ladies began to talk fast to Cleopatra so as to take her mind off the piano.

Then the Bingledingle brothers, known as Oscar and Victor, opened fire on us with a couple of mandolins.

Oscar and Victor play entirely by hand.  They don’t know one note from another, and they can prove it when they begin to play.

Their mother believes them to be prodigies of genius.  She is alone in her belief.

After Oscar and Victor had chased one of Sousa’s marches all over the parlor and finally left it unconscious under the sofa, they bowed and ceased firing, and then they went out in the dining-room and filled their storage batteries with ice cream and cake.

This excitement was followed by another catastrophe named Minnehaha Jones, who picked up a couple of soprano songs and screeched them at us.

Minnehaha is one of those fearless singers who vocalize without a safety valve.  She always keeps her eyes closed, so she can’t tell just when her audience gets up and leaves the room.

The next treat was a mixed duet on the flute and trombone between Clarence Smith and Lancelot Diffenberger, with a violin obligate on the side by Hector Tompkins.

Never before have I seen music so roughly handled.

It looked like a walk-over for Clarence, but in the fifth round he blew a couple of green notes and Lancelot got the decision.

Then, for a consolation prize, Hector was led out in the middle of the room, where he assassinated Mascagni’s Cavalleria Rusticana so thoroughly that it will never be able to enter a fifty-cent table d’hote restaurant again.

Then Cornucopia Coogan arose and gave us a few select recitations.  She weighs 295 pounds and she was immense.

Just as she started to tell us that curfew would not ring to-night Uncle Peter winked at me, and we sneaked out and began to drown our sorrow.

Those musicales would be all to the good if the music didn’t suffocate them.

After the crowd had left that night Peaches said to me, “John, Uncle Peter and Aunt Martha and I have been talking matters over to-day, and we’ve arranged a most delightful surprise for you!”

“What is it, another one of those parlor riots?” I asked, “If so, I want to tell you right now that you couldn’t surprise me if Uncle Peter and Aunt Martha stepped out and did a song and dance in black face.”

Peaches laughed.

“Oh! that isn’t it,” she chuckled.  “It has something to do with the $5,000 you’ve saved.”

“Oh! it has,” I muttered faintly.