Jim Spelling and Cecily Grant, as always when they got together, kept up an amusing stream of chat‑ ter about various adventures when their colorful lives had crossed.

“Remember the time they served sheep's eyes and you had to swallow them whole because you couldn't stand to bite into them?" Cecily said to Jim. "I'll never forget the look on your face."

“And the time in Russia when you went out to inspect a farm in that roly-poly snowsuit and you fell down and couldn't get up and brought three other people down who were trying to help you," Jim countered.

“Mom, I hope you're going to write all these down," Jane said, starting to clear the table. "Are you writing a book?" Jim asked.

“Jane and I are taking a short class on writing autobiographies," Cecily explained. She glanced at her watch. "And we better get going or we'll be late for the first one."

“I'll stick around here and wait for Katie to come home," Jim said. "Then maybe we can talk some more when you get back. Janie, where are those tools I gave you for Christmas?"

“On the basement steps. Why?"

“I saw you fighting the garage door. Thought I'd look it over while you're gone."

“Uncle Jim, you're a guest. You don't have to fix things."

“But it's not going all the way up."

“That's all right," Jane said. "I'm thinking about teaching my station wagon to limbo."

“Jim, do you remember General Pryce?" Cecily asked. She was rinsing plates and loading the dishwasher.

“Pryce? Pryce? Oh, yes! The old bastard with the battle-ax wife.""The battle-ax is in our class," Cecily said. "Knowing that, you're going? You've got a higher capacity for self-torture than I have. I wouldn't get within ten miles of that woman. She's dangerous." "Dangerous?" Jane asked.