felt hat with an especially broad brim on
top of it all. He looked unbelievably horrible with strings of coarse
gray hair drooping over his coal-black face. Moreover, he
was a born actor and fully capable of making the most of his unsightly
disguise. So in eager anticipation we turned him loose outside the house
and crept into the pantry to observe.
Chandler quietly approached the window and stood there, grinning
and looking like someone who had escaped from an asylum. Almost
immediately Mrs. Sears saw him and let out a bloodcurdling scream. The
guests all jumped to her rescue while we in the pantry took
to our heels, feeling the experiment had been a success.
I can still picture Aunt Manie scrubbing the resistant coloring
off Chandler and repeating over and over again in a most frus-trated
voice, "I came here to have a good time — not to wash
my children's faces."