To make a long story short--which somebody should have--the secret's a secret from puritanical Aunt Bridget: Tim and Uncle James O'Connell know that she disapproves of lotteries and that she wouldn't let them keep even one of their half-million dollars. They plot and plan to have-it-but-hide-it, or find it through some non-gaming agency, but every try backfires several thousandfold until they fix on leading two lives. By day they enjoy a Fifth Avenue apartment complete with room service, natty clothes, and a Cadillac; at dinner time they head home to their crummy old neighborhood and tired Aunt Bridget who's been cleaning rich people's houses all day. Some unlikely coincidences. . . and guess whom they hire as their maid (liberal benefits of course)--this carried off by the versatile Uncle James in disguise. He's later regaled by tales of the distinguished man so much classier than he, she says, who's employing her. Tim has rightly missed the company of other boys all along: childish Uncle James is no substitute for Hildick's usual group of buoyant natural children.