steamer for Europe and began
searching her purse frantically for
her ticket which had somehow disappeared. She was practi-cally in
hysterics over the loss when an unidentified gentleman
who was seeing some friends off, learned of her predicament
and bought her a new ticket. Later it was discovered that the
kind gentleman was Charles H. Fiske Esq. of Weston.
Thanksgiving dinners at Uncle Charlie's have left a vivid
im-pression on my memory — the whole family, young and old, having
their annual get-together and, according to my father, the house bulging
with argumentative relatives. The young ate their dinner in a room
across the hall from the grownups but we
made so much noise ourselves we never heard these arguments.
Although a very astute man in business, Uncle Charlie showed
a gullible side when his dog Peter disappeared one day. He searched high
and low for him and finally, as a last resort, consulted a
clairvoyant who went into a trance and saw Peter in the lap of a
rich lady driving through a park in Washington, D.C. She described the
exact location and Uncle Charlie took a train to
Washington and waited a long time for Peter to show up, but
he never did.
For many years Uncle Charlie had a cook, Mary McDonald, with a
tremendous mouth — so large that she boasted she could open it wide
enough to get a billiard ball inside. One day my
father and a number of his cousins attempted to call her bluff
and handed her a billiard ball. She got it in without any trouble,
but it took a doctor to get it out.
Cousin Charlie, Uncle Charlie's only son, occupied the old
house that Uncle Charlie had moved next to his own. His wife, Cousin
May, was the most stylish member of the family — out -