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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/20626-8.txt b/20626-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9874f5d --- /dev/null +++ b/20626-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8817 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Torchy, by Sewell Ford + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Torchy + +Author: Sewell Ford + +Illustrator: George Brehm + +Release Date: February 19, 2007 [EBook #20626] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TORCHY *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +[Illustration: I FOUND MYSELF LOOKING SQUARE INTO THEM BIG GRAY EYES. +(Frontispiece)] + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +TORCHY +BY +SEWELL FORD + +AUTHOR OF +TRYING OUT TORCHY, ETC. + +FRONTISPIECE BY +GEORGE BREHM + +NEW YORK +GROSSET & DUNLAP +PUBLISHERS + +Made in the United States of America + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +Copyright, 1909, 1910, by +SEWELL FORD + +COPYRIGHT, 1911, by +EDWARD J. CLODE + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +TO MY +TRULY USEFUL AND GENIAL FRIEND + +W. A. C. + +AT WHOSE SUGGESTION THIS +CHRONICLE OF THE DOINGS OF TORCHY +CAME TO BE MADE + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +CONTENTS + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I. Getting in with the Glory Be 1 + II. A Jolt for Piddie 18 + III. Meeting up with the Great Skid 34 + IV. Frosting the Profess 51 + V. Where Mildred Got Next 67 + VI. Shunting Brother Bill 83 + VII. Keeping Tabs on Piddie 100 + VIII. A Whirl with Kazedky 117 + IX. Down the Bumps with Cliffy 132 + X. Backing out of a Fluff Riot 148 + XI. Rung in with the Gold Spooners 162 + XII. Landing on a Side Street 177 + XIII. First Aid for the Main Stem 193 + XIV. In on the Oolong 209 + XV. Batting it up to Torchy 226 + XVI. Throwing the Line to Skid 241 + XVII. Touching on Tink Tuttle 258 + XVIII. Getting Hermes on the Bounce 275 + XIX. When Miss Vee Threw the Dare 294 + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + + + + +TORCHY + +CHAPTER I + +GETTING IN WITH THE GLORY BE + + +Sure, I was carryin' the banner. But say, I ain't one of them kids that +gets callouses on the hands doin' it. When I'm handed the fresh air on +payday, I don't choke to death over it. I goes out and rustles for +another job. And I takes my pick, too. Why not? It's just as easy. + +This time I gets a bug that the new Octopus Buildin' might have been put +up special for me. Anyway, it looked good from the outside, and I blows +in through the plate glass merry go round. The arcade was all to the +butterscotch, everything handy, from an A. D. T. stand to Turkish baths +in the basement. + +"Got any express elevators?" says I to the starter guy. + +"Think of buying the buildin', sonny?" says he. + +"There'd be room for you on the sidewalk if I did," says I. "But say, if +you can tear your eyes off the candy counter queen long enough, tell me +who's got a sign out this mornin'." + +"They're going to elect a second vice-president of the Interurban +to-day. Would that suit you?" says he, twistin' up his lip whisker and +lookin' cute. + +"Maybe," says I; "but I'd take a portfolio as head office boy if I knew +where to butt in." + +"Then chase up to 2146," says he. "You'll find 'em waitin' for you with +a net. Here's your car. Up!" and before I knows it I has done the +skyrocket act up to floor twenty-one. + +Well say, you wouldn't have thought so many kids read the want ads. and +had the courage to tackle an early breakfast. The corridor was full of +'em, all sizes, all kinds. It looked like recess time at a boys' orphan +asylum, and with me against the field I stood to be a sure loser. I +hadn't no more'n climbed out before they starts to throw the josh my +way. + +"Hey, Reddy, get in line! The foot for yours, Peachblow!" they yells at +me. + +And then I comes back. "Ah, flag it!" says I. "Do I look like I belonged +in your class? Brush by, you three-dollar pikers, and give a salaried +man a show!" + +With that I makes a quick rush at 2146 and gets through the door before +they has time to make a howl. The letterin' on the ground glass was +what got me. It said as how this was the home office of the Glory Be +Mining Company, and there was a string of high-toned names as long as +your arm. But the minute I sizes up the inside exhibit I wasn't so +anxious. I was lookin' for about a thousand feet of floor space; but all +I could see was a couple of six by nines, includin' a clothes closet and +a corner washbowl. There was a grand aggregation of two as an office +force. One was a young lady key pounder, with enough hair piled on top +of her head to stuff a mattress. The other was a long faced young feller +with an ostrich neck and a voice that sounded like a squeaky door. + +"Go outside!" says he, wavin' his hands and puttin' on a weary look. +"Mr. Pepper can't see any of you until he has finished with the mail. +Now run along." + +"I can't," says I; "my feet won't let me. Is that the Pepper box in +there?" + +The door was open a foot or two; so I steps up to take a peek at the +main squeeze. And say, the minute I sees him I knew he'd do. He wa'n't +one of these dried up whiskered freaks, nor he wa'n't any human hog, +with no neck and three chins. He was the kind of a gent you see comin' +out of them swell cafés, and he looked like a winner, Mr. Belmont Pepper +did. His breakfast seemed to be settin' as well as his coat collar, and +you could tell with one eye that he wouldn't come snoopin' around early +in the day, nor hang around the shop after five. Pepper has his heels up +on the rolltop, burnin' a real Havana. That's the kind of a boss I +likes. I lays out to connect, too. + +"Say," says I to the long faced duck, "you hold your breath a minute and +I'll be back!" + +Then I steps outside, yanks the "Boy Wanted" sign off the nail, and says +to the crowd good and brisk, just as though I come direct from +headquarters: + +"It's all over, kids, and unless you're waitin' to have a group picture +taken you'd better hit the elevator." + +Wow! There was call for another sudden move just then. I was lookin' for +that, though, and by the time the first two of 'em struck the door I was +on the other side with the key turned. Riot? Well say, you'd thought I'd +pinched the only job in New York! They kicked on the door and yelled +through the transom and got themselves all worked up. + +The lady key pounder grabs hold of both sides of her table and almost +swallows her tuttifrutti, the ostrich necked chap turns pea green, and +Mr. Pepper swings his door open and sings out, real cheerful: + +"Mr. Sweetwater, can't you get yourself mobbed without being so noisy +about it? What's up, anyway?" + +But Sweetwater wasn't a lightnin' calculator. He stands there with his +mouth open, gawpin' at me, and tryin' to figure out what's broke loose; +so I pushes to the front and helps him out. + +"There's a bunch of also rans out there, Mr. Pepper," says I, "that +don't know when to fade. They're just grouchy because I've swiped the +job." + +I was lookin' for him to sit up at that; but he don't. "What makes you +think that you've got it!" says he. + +"'Cause I'm in and they're out," says I. "Anyway, they're a lot of +dopes, and a man like you wants a live one around. That's me. Where do I +begin?" And I chucks the sign into a waste basket and hangs my cap on a +hook. + +Now, that ain't any system you can follow reg'lar. I don't often do it +that way, 'cause I ain't any fonder of bein' thrown through a door than +the next one. But this was a long shot and I was willin' to run the +risk. That fat headed starter knew he was steerin' me up against a mob; +so I was just achin' to squeeze the lemon in his eye by makin' good. + +For awhile, though, I couldn't tell whether I was up in a balloon or let +in on the ground floor. Mr. Pepper was givin' me the search warrant +look-over, and I see he's one of these gents that you can't jar easy. I +hadn't rushed him off his feet by my through the center play. There was +still plenty of chance of my gettin' the low tackle. + +"If I might ask," says he, smooth as a silk lid, "what is your name?" + +"Ah, w'at's the use?" says I, duckin' my head. "Look at that hair! You +might's well begin callin' me Torchy; you'd come to it." + +He didn't grin nor nothin'; but only I see his eyes wrinkle a little at +the corners. "Very well, Torchy," says he. "I suppose you have your +references?" + +"Nah, I ain't," says I. "But if you're stuck on such things I can get +'em. There's a feller down on Ann-st. that'll write beauts for a quarter +a throw." + +"So?" says he. "Then we'll pass that point. Why did you leave your last +place?" + +"By request," says I. "The stiff gives me the fire. He said I was too +fresh." + +"He was mistaken, I suppose," says Mr. Pepper. "You're not fresh, are +you?" + +"Well say, I ain't no last year's limed egg," says I. "If you're lookin' +for somethin' that's been in the brine all winter, you'd better put the +hook in again." + +He rubs his chin at that. "Do you like hard work?" says he. + +"Think I'd be chasin' up an office boy snap, if I did?" says I. + +He takes a minute or so to let that soak in, knockin' his cigar ashes +off on the rug in that careless way a man that ain't married does, and +then he springs another. + +"I presume that if you were left alone in the office occasionally," says +he, "you could learn to run the business?" + +"Nix, not!" says I. "When I plays myself for a confidential manager I +wants to pull down more than four per. Givin' book agents the quick back +up and runnin' errands is my strong points. For tips on the market and +such as that I charges overtime." + +Course, I'd figured it was all off by then, seein' as how I hadn't rung +the bell at any crack. That's why I was so free with the hot air. Mr. +Pepper, he squints at me good and hard, and then pushes the call button. + +"Mr. Sweetwater," says he, "this young man's name is Torchy. I've +persuaded him to assist us in running the affairs of the Glory Be Mining +Company. Put him on the payroll at five a week, and then induce that +mass meeting in the corridor to adjourn." + +"Say," says I, "does that mean I'm picked?" + +"You're the chosen one," says he. + +"Gee!" says I. "You had me guessin', though! But you ain't drawn any +blank. I'll shinny on your side, Mr. Pepper, as long's you'll let +me--and that's no gust of wind, either." + +And say, inside of three days I'd got the minin' business down to a +science. Course it was a cinch. All I has to do is fold bunches of +circulars, stick stamps on the envelopes, and lug 'em up to the general +P. O. once a day. That, and chasin' out after a dollar's worth of cigars +now and then for Mr. Pepper, and keepin' Sweetie jollied along, didn't +make me round shouldered. + +Sweetie was cut out for the undertakin' business, by rights. He took +things hard, he did. Every tick of the clock was a solemn moment for +him, and me gettin' a stamp on crooked was a case that called for a +heart to heart talk. He used to show me the books he was keepin', and +the writin' was as reg'lar as if it'd been done on a job press. + +"You're a wonder, you are, Sweetie," says I; "but some day your hand is +going to joggle, and there'll be a blot on them pages, and then you'll +die of heart disease." + +Miss Allen, the typewriter fairy, was a good deal of a frost. She was +one of the kind that would blow her lunch money on havin' her hair done +like some actress, and worry through the week on an apple and two pieces +of fudge at noon. I never had much use for her. She called me just Boy, +as though I wa'n't hardly human at all. She'd sit and pat that hair of +hers by the hour, feelin' to see if all the diff'rent waves and bunches +was still there. It was a work of art, all right; but it didn't leave +her time to think of much else. I used to get her wild by askin' how the +six other sisters was comin' on these days. + +We didn't have any great rush of customers in the office. About twice a +day some one would stray in; but gen'rally they was lookin' for other +parties, and we didn't take in money enough over the counter to pay the +towel bill. It had me worried some, until I tumbles that the Glory Be +was a mail order snap. + +All them circulars we sent out told about the mine. And say, after I'd +read one of 'em I didn't see how it was we didn't have a crowd throwin' +money at us. It was good readin', too, almost as excitin' as a nickel +lib'ry. I'd never been right next to a gold mine before, and it got me +bug eyed just thinkin' about it. + +Why, this mine of ours was one that the Injuns had kept hid for years +and years, killin' off every white man that stuck his nose into the same +county. But after awhile a feller by the name of Dakota Dan turned +Injun, got himself adopted by the tribe, and monkeyed around until he +found the mine. It near blinded him the first squint he got of them big +chunks of gold. The Injuns caught him at it and finished the business +with hot irons. Then they roasted him over a fire some and turned him +loose to enjoy himself. He was tougher'n a motorman, though. He didn't +die for years after that; but he never said nothin' about the gold mine +until he was nearly all in. Then he told his oldest boy the tale and +gave him a map of the place, makin' him swear he'd never go near it. The +boy stuck to it, too. He grew up and kept a grocery store, and it wa'n't +until after he'd died of lockjaw from runnin' a rusty nail in his hand +and the widow had sold out the store to a Swede that the map showed up. +The Swede swapped the map to a soap drummer for half a dozen cakes of +scented shaving sticks, and the drummer goes explorin'. + +He had a soap drummer's luck. He didn't find any Injuns left. Most of +'em had died off and the rest had joined Wild West shows. The gold mine +was there, though, with chunks of solid gold lyin' around as big as +peach baskets. Mr. Drummer looks until his eyes ache, and then he hikes +himself back East to get up a comp'ny to work the mine. He'd just made +plans to build a solid gold mansion on Fifth-ave. and hire John D. +Rockefeller for a butler, when he strays into one of these Gospel +missions and gets religion so hard that he can't shake it. Then he sees +how selfish it would be to keep all that gold for himself. "But how'll +I divvy it?" says he. "And who with?" + +Then he decides that he'll divide with ministers, because they'll use it +best. So he gets up this Glory Be Mining Company, and hires Mr. Pepper +to sell the stock at twenty-five cents a share to all the preachers in +the country. + +Blamed if it wa'n't straight goods! I looked on the letters we sent out, +and every last one of 'em was to ministers. Talk about your easy money! +This was like pickin' it off the bushes. Mr. Pepper shows 'em how they +can put in fifty or a hundred dollars and in three or four years be +pullin' out their thousands in dividends. + +You'd thought they'd came a runnin' at a chance like that, wouldn't you? +There we was givin' 'em a private hunch on a proposition that was all +velvet. But say, only about one in ten ever hands us a comeback. It was +enough to make a man turn the hose on his grandmother. + +Course, a few of 'em did loosen up and send on real money. I used to +stand around and pipe off the boss while he shucked the mail, and I +could tell whether it was fat or lean by the time it took him to eat +lunch. The days when I was sent out to cash five or six money orders, +and soak away a bunch of checks, he'd call a cab at twelve-thirty and +wouldn't come back until near four; but when there wa'n't much doin' +he'd send out for a tray and put in the afternoon dictatin' names and +addresses to Miss Allen. + +Then there come a slack spell that lasted for a couple of weeks, and we +didn't get hardly any mail at all, except from some crank out in +Illinois that had splurged on a whole ten dollars' worth of shares, and +wrote in about every other day wantin' to know when the dividends was +goin' to begin comin' his way. I heard Miss Allen talkin' it over with +Sweetie. + +It was along about then that this duck from the post-office buildin' +showed up. He comes gumshoein' around one noon hour, while I was all by +my lonesome, and he asks a whole lot of questions that I'd forgot the +answer to. I was tellin' the boss about him that night around closin' up +time. + +"I sized him up for one of them cheap skates from the Marshal's office," +says I. "I didn't know what his game was and I wa'n't goin' to give up +all I knew to him; so I tells him to call around to-morrow and you'll +load him up with all the information his nut can hold. Was that right?" + +Mr. Pepper seems to be mighty int'rested for awhile; but then he grins, +pats me on the shoulder, and says: "That was just right, Torchy, exactly +right. I couldn't have done it better myself." + +But half an hour later, after Miss Allen has stuck her gum on the +paperweight and skipped, and Sweetwater has slid out too, and just as I +was gettin' ready to call it a day, Mr. Pepper calls me in on the rug. + +"Torchy," says he, "during the brief period that we have been associated +in business I have found your services very valuable and your society +very cheering. In other words, Torchy, you're all right." + +"There's a pair of us, then," says I. "You're as good as they make them, +Mr. Pepper." + +"Thanks, Torchy," says he, "thanks." Then he looks out of the window for +a minute before he asks how I'd like a two-weeks' vacation with pay. + +"Well," says I, "seein' as how Coney's froze up, and Palm Beach don't +agree with my health, I'd just as soon put them two weeks in storage +until July." + +"I see," says he; "but the fact is, Torchy, I've had a sudden call to go +West." + +"Out to the Glory Be mine?" says I. + +"You've guessed it," says he. "And I am taking this opportunity for +releasing Sweetwater and Miss Allen." + +"They ain't much use, anyway," says I. "But you wouldn't shut up the +shop for fair, would you? Don't you want some one on hand to answer +fool questions, or steer cranks off like that post-office guy that's +comin' to-morrow? Unless you think I'd hook the rolltop or pinch the +letterpress, you'd better leave me sittin' on the lid." + +Well, sir, he seemed to take to that notion, and the next thing I knows +I'm tellin him about my scheme of wantin' to save up enough dough to pay +for a little bunch of them Glory Be stocks. + +"It's a shame to waste all that good money on people that don't know a +cinch when it's passed out to 'em," says I, "and I've been thinkin' that +if I hung to the business long enough maybe I'd have a show to buy in." + +Say, you couldn't guess what Mr. Pepper up and does then. He opens the +safe, counts out a hundred shares of Glory Be common, and fills out the +transfer to me right on the spot. + +"Now, Torchy," says he, "it will cost you five weeks' salary to pay for +these; but if I raise you a dollar a week and take it out a little at a +time you'll never miss it. Anyway, you're a shareholder from now on." + +Did you ever get rich all of a sudden, like that! You feel it first up +and down the small of your back, and then it goes to your knees. I +couldn't say a blamed word that was sensible. I don't know just what I +did say, and I never come to until after Mr. Pepper'd finished up and +gone, leavin' me with two-weeks' pay in my pocket, and a big envelope +full of them Glory Be shares, all printed in gold and purple ink, with a +picture of Dakota Dan in the middle. + +I couldn't eat a bite of supper that night, and I puts in the evenin' +readin' over them pamphlets we'd been sendin' out until I knew every +word of it by heart. I'll bet I got up and hid them stocks in a dozen +diff'rent places before mornin', and an hour before bankin' time I was +sittin' on the steps of the Treasury Trust concern, waitin' to hire one +of them steel pigeon-holes down in the vaults. After I'd got the +envelope stowed away and tied the key around my neck with a string, I +goes back to the office. Sweetie and Miss Allen was there, with their +hammers goin'. They'd found their blue tickets and their week's pay and +was just clearin' out. + +"I'd been planning to make a change for the last two weeks," says Miss +Allen. "I was looking for something like this." + +"Me too," says Sweetie. "It's rough on Torchy, though." + +"Say, don't you waste any sympathy on me," says I, "and don't let off +any more knocks at Mr. Pepper. I won't stand for it!" + +With that they snickers and does a slow exit. That leaves me runnin' the +gold minin' business single handed; but me bein' one of the firm, as +you might say, it was all right. I'd always had a notion that I'd be a +plute some day; but honest, I wa'n't expectin' it so sudden. I was just +tryin' to get used to it, when the door opens and in drifts that guy +from the Marshal's office. + +"Where's Mr. Belmont Pepper?" says he. + +"Well," says I, "the last time I saw him he was headed west." + +"Skipped out!" says the gent, doin' the foiled villyun stunt with his +face. + +"Skipped nothin'," says I. "Mr. Pepper's gone out to look after the +mine." + +"Oh, he's gone to the mine, has he?" says the duck. "See here, kid, I'm +a United States Deputy Marshal. Don't you try to tell me any fairy +stories, or you'll pull down trouble. We want your Mr. Pepper, and we +want him bad! He's a crook." + +Well say, it was a hot argument we had. He tries to tell me that this +minin' business is all a bunko game, and that there's a paper out for +the boss. Then he camps down in the private office and says he'll wait +until Mr. Pepper shows up. He makes a stab at it, too, and a nice long +wait he has. I stuck it out for two weeks with him, tryin' to beat it +into his head that the Glory Be mine was a real gilt edged proposition. +I'd have been there yet, only they comes and lugs off all the desks and +things and makes me give up the keys. + +Say, it was a tough deal, all right. It was some jay that stirred up all +the muss, howlin' for his coin that he thought he'd lost. But look at +the hole I'm in, after bein' so brash to Mr. Pepper about stayin' on the +lid, and him lettin' me write my own valuation ticket! How do I square +it with him when he comes back and finds I've stood around and seen him +closed out? + +Old Velvet Foot, the deputy, says if the boss comes back at all he'll be +wearin' a diff'rent face and flaggin' under another name. But I know +better. He's as square as a pavin' block. If he wa'n't, why was he +distributin' Glory Be stocks among fool outsiders, instead of keepin' it +in the fam'ly? + +"Ah, brush your belfry!" says I. "Your mind needs chloride of lime on +it." + +But say, shareholder or not, I've got to plug the market for somethin' +that'll pass with the landlady. I've been livin' on crullers and coffee +for two days now, and that starter guy says if I don't quit hangin' +around the arcade he'll have me pinched. I've wrote out a note to leave +for Mr. Pepper, and I guess it's up to me to frisk another job. + +You don't know where they want a near-plute as temp'rary office boy, do +you? + + + + +CHAPTER II + +A JOLT FOR PIDDIE + + +It's a case of "comin' up, up" with me. Sure as ever! Ain't I got stock +in a gold mine? And now I'm in with the Corrugated Trust. Why, say, two +moves more and I'll be first vice-president. There's only his door, and +the general manager's, and then me. + +I'm behind the brass rail, next to the spring water. When you have the +front to push through the plate glass, you see me first. If I likes your +looks, and your card reads right, maybe I gives you a peek at Mr. +Piddie. Anyone that gets past Piddie's a bird. He's the Inside Brother, +Keeper of the Seal, Watch on the Rhine, and a lot more. He draws down +salary for bein' confidential secretary to the G. M.; but Con. Sec. +don't half cover it. He keeps the run of everything, from what the last +quarterly dividend was down to how many tubs of pins is used by the +office force every month. + +I'd never made good with Piddie in a month of Yom Kippurs if it hadn't +been for Old Heavyweight, the main squeeze. Piddie had ten of us lined +up for the elimination test, and was puttin' us through the catechism +and the civil service, when in pads Mr. Ellins--you know, Hickory +Ellins. Ever see our V. P.? Say, he uses up cloth enough in his vest to +make me a whole suit. + +He's a ripe old sport, with a complexion like an Easter egg, and a pair +o' blinks that'd look a hole through a chilled steel vault. He runs us +over without losin' step, sticks out a finger as he goes by, and says +over his shoulder, "Piddie, take that one!" + +Me, I was in range. Piddie made a bluff at goin' on with the third +degree business; but the other entries begins to edge for the door. I +was the one best bet; so what was the use? See what it is to have a +thirty-two candle power thatch? He couldn't have missed me, less'n he'd +been color blind. There's worse things can happen to you than red hair, +all right. + +Piddie was sore on me from the start, though. He'd made up his mind to +tag a nice little mommer's boy, with a tow colored top and a girly +voice. Them's the kind that forgets to bring back change and always has +stamps to sell. Oh, I sized up Piddie for a two by four right at the get +away; but I've been keepin' him jollied along just for the fun of it. + +"J. Hemmingway Piddie" is the way he has it printed. Think of wastin' +all them letters, when just plain Piddie is as good as seein' a strip +of pingpong pictures of him! He's mostly up and down, Piddie is, like +he'd been pulled out of a bundle of laths, and he's got one of these +inquisitive noses that's sharp enough to file bills on. + +Refined conversation is Piddie's strong hold. It bubbles out of him like +steam out of the oatmeal kettle. Sounds that way, too. You know these +mush eaters, with their, "Ah, I'm su-ah, quite su-ah, doncher know"? +He's got that kind of lingo down to an art. I'll bet he could talk it in +his sleep. I've heard 'em before; but I never looked to hold a sit. +under one. + +It's a privilege, though, bein' so close to Piddie. If I don't forget +all the things he tells me, and follows 'em, I'll be made over new in a +month more. He begins with my name. Torchy don't fit right with him. It +might do for some places he didn't mention, but not for the home offices +of the Corrugated Trust. + +"Maybe you'd like Reginald better!" says I. + +"But--er--aw--is that your baptismal name, my boy?" says he. + +"Nix," says I. "I'm no Baptist. And, anyway, I couldn't give up my real +name, cause I'm travelin' incog., and me noble relatives would be +shocked if they knew I was really workin'. You can call me Torchy, or +Reginald, whichever you think of first, and if you be careful to say it +real nice maybe I'll come." + +Every time I throws a jolt like that into J. Hemmingway, he looks kind +of stunned and goes off to chew it over. But he gets even all right. +Sometimes he'll take a whole forenoon to dig up somethin' he thinks is +goin' to give me the double cross. + +Most of his spare time, though, he puts in tellin' me about how I'm to +behave when Mr. Robert comes back. For the first few days I had an idea +Mr. Robert was the pulley that carried the big belt, and that when he +stopped there was a general shut down. I got nervous watchin' for him. +Then I rounds up the fact that he's Bob Ellins, who cuts more ice in the +society columns than he does in the Wall Street notes. + +Piddie has him down for a little tin god, all right, and that wa'n't +such a fool move of Piddie's, either. Some day Hickory Ellins will have +to quit and take the hot baths regular, and then Mr. Robert will get +acquainted with an eight o'clock breakfast. See where Piddie comes in? +He's takin' out insurance on his job. He needs it bad enough. If I ever +get to think as much of a job as Piddie does of his, I'll have some one +nail me to the office chair. + +Rule No. 1 on my card was never to let anyone through the brass gate +unless they belonged inside or had a special permit. Piddie wants to +know if I've ever had any experience with that kind of work. + +"Say, where do you think I've been!" says I. "Why, I did that trick for +six months, shuntin' dopes away from the Sunday editor's door, and there +was times when nothin' but a club would keep some of 'em out. Back to +the bridge, Piddie! When I'm on the gate it's just as good as though +you'd set the time lock." + +Well, I'd been there over one payday and halfway to the next, when one +mornin' about ten-thirty the door comes open with a bang, and in steps a +husky young gent, swingin' one of these dinky, leather-covered canes, +and lookin' like money from the mint. He didn't make any play to draw a +card, same's they generally does; but steers straight for the brass +gate, full tilt. I never says a word; but just as he reaches over to +spring the catch and break in, I shoves my foot out and blocks it at the +bottom, bringin' him up all standin'. + +"Say, this ain't no ferryhouse," says I. + +"Hello!" says he. "A new one, eh?" + +"I ain't any Fourth-ave. antique," says I; "but I'm over seven. Was you +wantin' to see anyone special?" + +He seems to think that's a joke. "Why," says he, "I am Mr. Ellins." + +"G'wan!" says I. "You ain't half of him." + +That reaches his funnybone, too. "You're perfectly right, young man," +says he; "but I happen to be his son. Now are you satisfied?" + +"Nope," says I. "That bluff don't go either. If you was Mr. Robert I'd +have been struck by lightnin' long 'fore this. You've got one more +guess." + +Just then I hears a gurgle, like some one's bein' choked with a chicken +bone, and I squints around behind. There was Piddie, lookin' like the +buildin' was fallin' down and tryin' to uncork some remarks. + +"Ah, Piddie!" says the gent. "Perhaps you will introduce me to your new +sentry and give me the password." + +Well, Piddie did. He almost got on his hands and knees doin' it. And +say, blamed if the duck wa'n't Mr. Robert, after all! + +"Gee!" says I, "that was a bad break." + +That didn't soothe Piddie, though. He used up the best part of an hour +tryin' to tell me what an awful thing I'd gone and done. + +"This ends you, young man!" he says. "You're as good as discharged this +very moment." + +"Is that all?" says I. "Why, by the way you've been takin' on I figured +on nothin' less than sudden death. But if it's only bein' fired, don't +you worry. I've had that happen to me so often that I get uneasy without +it. If I should wear a stripe for every time the can's been tied to me, +my sleeves would look like a couple of barber's poles. Cheer up, Piddie! +Maybe they'll let you pick out somethin' that suits you better next +time." + +He couldn't get over it, though. Along about lunch time he comes out to +me, as solemn as though he's servin' a warrant for homicide, and says +that Mr. Robert will attend to my case now. + +"Piddie," says I, givin' him the partin' grip, "you've been a true +friend of mine. When you hear me hit the asphalt, send out for a +chocolate ice cream soda and drown your sorrow." + +Then I turns down a page in "Old Sleuth's Revenge" and goes to the +slaughter. + +Mr. Robert has just talked about three cylinders full of answers to the +letters that's piled up while he's been gone, and as the girl goes out +with the records he whirls around in the mahogany easy-chair and takes a +good long look at me. + +"If it comes as hard as all that," says I, "I'll write out my +resignation." + +"Mr. Piddie's been talking to you, I suppose?" says he. + +"He's done everything but say mass over me," says I. + +"Piddie is a good deal of an----" then he pulls up. "Where the deuce +did he find you?" + +"It wasn't him found me," says I; "it was a case of me findin' him; but +if it hadn't been for your old man's buttin' in, that's all the good it +would have done me." + +"Ah!" says he. "That explains the mystery. By the way, son, what do they +call you?" + +"Guess," says I, and runs me fingers through it. "Just Torchy, and it +suits me as well as Percival or Montgomery." + +"Torchy is certainly descriptive," says he. "How long have you been +doing office work?" + +"Ever since I could lift a waste basket," says I. + +"Are you ambitious?" says he. + +"Sure!" says I. "I'm waitin' for some bank president to adopt me." + +"You came in here expecting to be discharged, I presume?" says he. + +"What, me?" says I. "Nah! I thought you was goin' to ask me over to the +Caffy Martang for lunch." + +For a minute or so after that he looks me straight in the eye, and I +gives him the same. And say, for the kind, he ain't so worse. Course, I +wouldn't swap him for Mr. Belmont Pepper, who's the only boss I ever had +that I calls the real thing; but Mr. Robert would get a ratin' +anywhere. + +"Torchy," says he after a bit, "I'm inclined to think that you'll do. +Have a chair." + +"Don't I get the blue ticket, then?" says I. + +"No," says he, "not until you do something worse than obey orders. +Besides you're the cheekiest youth that has ever graced the offices of +the Corrugated Trust, and once in awhile we have use for just such a +quality. For instance, I am tempted to send you on a very important +errand of my own. Wait a moment while I think it over." + +"Time out!" says I. + +Well say, I didn't know what was comin', he took so long makin' up his +mind. But Mr. Robert ain't one of the kind to go off half cocked. He's +got somethin' on his shoulders besides tailor's paddin', and when he +sets the wheels to movin' you can gamble that he's gettin' somewhere. +After awhile he slaps his knee and says: + +"No, there isn't another person around the place who would know how to +go about it. Torchy, I'm going to try you out!" + +It wasn't anything like I'd ever been up against before. He hands me an +express receipt and says he wants me to go over to Jersey City and get +what that calls for without landin' in jail. + +"You'll see a bundle done up in burlap somewhere around the express +office," says he, "a big bundle. It looks like a side of veal; but it +isn't. It's a deer, one that I shot four days ago up north. Torchy, did +you know that it was illegal to shoot deer during certain months of the +year?" + +"You can be pinched for shootin' craps any time," says I. + +"Really?" says he. + +Then he goes on with his tale, givin' me all the partic'lars, so I +wouldn't make any batty moves. And say, they can think up some queer +stunts, hangin' around the club of an afternoon and lookin' out at +Fifth-ave. through the small end of a glass. This was one of them real +clubby dreams. It started by Mr. Robert countin' himself in on a debate +that he didn't know the beginning of. + +"When they asked me if I could do it, I said, 'Of course I can,'" says +he, "and then I asked what it was." + +The bunch had been gassin' about an old gun hangin' over the fireplace. +It was one of these old-timers, like they tell about Daniel Boone's +havin', in the Nickel Libr'ies, the kind you load with a stove poker. +Flintlocks--that's it! They was wonderin' if there was anyone left that +could take a relic like that out in the woods and hit anything besides +the atmosphere. And the first thing Mr. Robert knows he has been joshed +into bettin' a hatful of yellowbacks that he can take old Injun killer +out and bring back enough deer meat to feed the crowd--and him knowin' +no more about that sort of act than a one-legged man does about skatin'! +They gives him two weeks to do it in. + +That wa'n't the worst of it, though, accordin' to him. They passes the +word around until everyone that knows him is on the broad grin. The joke +is handed across billiard tables between shots, and is circulated around +the boxes at the opera. It's the best ever; for Mr. Robert has never +hunted anything livelier than a Welsh rabbit, after the show. + +He's a boy that likes to make good, though. He never makes a brag; but +he boxes up that old shootin' iron and drops out of sight. 'Way up in +the woods somewhere he digs up an old b'gosh artist that was brought up +with one of them guns in his hand, and he takes a private course. After +he's used up a keg of powder shootin' at tin cans they start out to find +where the deers roost. They find 'em, too. Mr. Robert is so rattled that +he misses the one he aims at; but he bores a tunnel through another in +the next lot. + +Course, he thinks he's got a cinch then. He hustles to the nearest flag +station and spends eight dollars sendin' telegrams to the bunch, +invitin' 'em to a venison feed at the club. Then he has his game sewed +up neat in meal bags and expressed to John Doe, Jersey City. See how +cute he was? He'd heard about the game laws by that time; so he lays his +plans to duck any trouble. But he hadn't counted on that gang tippin' +off the Jersey game wardens, nor on their trailin' the baggage and +express bundles with huntin' dogs. + +"The dogs had smelled it out just as I came in to claim it," says he; +"so all I could do was to keep my mouth closed, standing around and +looking foolish until I got tired and came away. And that, Torchy, is +the situation up to the present moment. My venison is under guard over +in Jersey City, and if it isn't delivered at the club by six o'clock +to-night I shall not only lose my bet, but have my life made miserable +from cheap jokes for months to come. It occurred to me that if your wits +were as bright as the hair that covers them, you might be able to help +me out. What do you think?" + +"Chee!" says I, scratchin' me bonfire, "I guess I'm down the coal chute. +I've rescued locked-in typewriter girls from fire escapes, and lied the +boss out of a family row; but I never tried my hand at kidnappin' enough +meat for a dinner party. How about buyin' off the game sleuth?" + +"He has been bought by the other side," says Mr. Robert. "He wouldn't +dare to sell them out." + +Well, I thunk some more thinks just as punky as that, and then we +settles it that I'm to hike over and take a squint, anyway. I gets him +to give me a line on what kind of a looker the warden was, and he throws +me a couple of tens for campaign expenses. I was just stowin' away the +green stuff as I goes through the outside office, and Piddie's eyebrows +go up. + +"They're goin' to let me finish out the week," says I. "Ain't they the +gentle things?" + +Then I skips out for the 23d-st. boat, leavin' Piddie with his mouth +open, and Mr. Robert wrapped up with the idea that, some way or other, +I'm goin' to talk that game cop into a dope dream and rescue the roast. + +But, say, I didn't need to look twice at that snoozer to see that no +line of hot air I had in stock would soften him up. He had an undershot +jaw, a pair of eyes that saw both sides of the street at once, and a +head like a choppin' block. He was sittin' right alongside of that +burlap bundle, waitin' to spring his tin badge on some one. + +"Do they send such things as that through without cratin'?" says I to a +guy behind the chicken wire, jerkin' me thumb at Mr. Sleuth. "What's the +label on him?" + +"That's Mr. Hinkey Tolliver, special officer," says he. "Better look +out or he'll break a hand grenade on that still alarm of yours." + +"Ah, back to the blotter!" says I. "Who gave you any license to make +funny cracks on my Mrs. Leslie Carter disguise?" + +We swapped a few more like that, while I sizes up Hinkey, tryin' to map +out a way to brace him. But it was a losin' proposition. He has one of +them eyes nailed to what I wanted to take away and the other trained on +the door, and you could tell by the way he held his jaw that nothin' +short of an earthquake would jar him loose. + +It was too much for me. If it hadn't been that Mr. Robert had put it up +to me so flat, I'd have quit then. But I couldn't lay down with just a +look; so I takes a turn around into the passenger waitin' room, battin' +my head for a new line. + +I guess it was kind of second sight that steers me over into the corner +where there is an A. D. T. branch. I wa'n't lookin' for anyone I knew, +seein' it's been so long since I wore the cap; but who should I pipe +off, sittin' on the call bench, but Hunch Leary! And, say, between the +time I'd give him the nod to come out, and his askin' how it was I'd +shook the red stripe, I'd framed up the whole scheme. First I goes over +to the girl under the blue bell and rings up Mr. Robert. + +"Hello," says I, "this is Torchy." + +"Good!" says he. "Have you got it?" + +"Got nothin'!" says I. "You must think I'm a writ of habeas corpus. I +want to know who was the gent that most likely tipped off your warden +friend." + +When I'd got that I asks the time of the next uptown boat, and makes a +deal with one of them ferry hawks to back his chariot up near the +express office door and be ready to make a swift move for the gangplank. + +Then me and Hunchy fakes up this little billy ducks to Mr. Hinkey +Tolliver, tellin' him to chase to the nearest 'phone and call up the +gent that Mr. Robert had put me wise to. + +It was worse'n playin' a three-ball combination for the side pocket, and +I holds my breath while Hunch pokes his book at him and waits to see if +there's any answer. Tolliver, he reads it over two or three times, first +with one eye and then the other. One minute I thought he was goin', and +the next he settles back like he'd made up his mind to balk. He squints +at the burlap package, and then at the message, and all of a sudden he +makes a break for the 'phone. + +He hadn't begun movin' before I was up to the window with my receipt, +callin' for 'em to get a hustle on, as Mr. Doe had run out of veal and +had to have it in a hurry. Ever try to poke up one of them box +jugglers? They took their time about it--and me lookin' for trouble +every tick of the clock! But I got an O. K. on it after awhile, and for +a quarter I hired a wagon helper to drag the bundle out and chuck it +into the hansom. Then I climbs in and we made the boat just as the bell +rang. She was pullin' out of the slip when Tolliver rushes out about as +calm as a bulldog chasin' a tramp. + +"Say," says the driver, climbin' down to take a look at the baggage, +"who you got sewed in the sack!" + +"Get on your perch!" says I. "Ain't you makin' extra money on this? And +when you fetch up at the club, do it like you was used to stoppin' at +such places." + +It was a great ride that me and the deer meat had across town and up +Fifth-ave. I'd stopped once to put Mr. Robert next; so he was waitin' +for me out in front of the club, wearin' a grin that was better'n a +breakfast food ad. + +But that wa'n't anything to the look on Piddie when Mr. Robert shows up +next mornin' and pats me on the back like I was one of his old Hasty +Puddin' chums. + +"Piddie," says I, "look what it is to be born handsome and lucky, all in +one throw!" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +MEETING UP WITH THE GREAT SKID + + +Next time you nabs me writin' a form sheet on any unknown, you can hang +out the waste paper sign and send me to the scows. Look at the mess I +makes of this here Mallory business! Why, first off I has him billed for +a Percy boy that had strayed into the general office from the drygoods +district. He had a filin' job in the bond room, and when he drew his +envelope on Saturdays it must have set the Corrugated Trust back for as +much as twelve D. + +Course, I didn't pay no attention to him, until one noon I finds him in +the next chair at the dairy lunch. He's got his mug of half white and +half black, and his two corned beef splits, with plenty of mustard, and +he's just squarin' off for a foodfest, when I squats down with two hunks +of pie and all the cheese I could get at one grab. + +"Hello, Algy!" says I. "Where's the charlotte russe and the cup of tea?" + +"Beg pardon," says he; "were you speaking to me?" + +"Sure," says I. "You didn't think I was makin' that crack at the +armchair, did you? Maybe we ain't been introduced; but we're on the same +payroll." + +"Oh, yes," says he, "I remember now. You're the--the----" + +"Go on, say it," says I. "I don't mind if it is red, and I lets anybody +call me Torchy that wants to, even Willies." + +"Well, now, that's nice of you," says he, sidetrackin' a bite to look me +over. Then he grins. + +Say, it was that open face movement that made me suspicious maybe he +wa'n't one of the Algernon kind, after all. But he had most of the +points, from the puff tie to the way he spoke. It wa'n't the hot potato +dialect Piddie uses; but it leaned that way. If he'd been a real Willie +boy, though, he'd gone up in the air, and maybe I'd got slapped on the +wrist. His springin' that grin was a hunch for me to hold the decision. + +"How long you been keepin' Corrugated stocks from goin' below par?" says +I. + +That stuns him for a minute, and then a light breaks. He throws another +grin. "Oh, about a year," he says. + +"Chee!" says I. "And they ain't put you on the board of directors yet?" + +"I've managed to keep off so far," says he. + +"Get a lift every quarter, though, I suppose?" says I. + +"I'm getting the same salary I began with, if that's what you mean," +says he, tacklin' another sandwich that had got past the meat +inspectors. + +"Yours must be fatter'n most of the Saturday prize packages they hand +out in the general office, or you wouldn't have kept satisfied so long," +says I. + +He thinks that over for awhile, like it was a new proposition, and then +he says, quiet and easy, "I'm not at all sure, you see, that I am +satisfied." + +"Why not chuck it then and make another grab?" says I. "It's good luck +sometimes to shake the bag." + +He swings his shoulders up at that,--and say, he's got a good pair, all +right!--but he don't say a word. + +"Ain't married the job, have you?" says I. "Or have you lost your +nerve?" + +"Perhaps it's a lack of nerve, as you suggest," says he, more as if he +was talkin' to himself than anything else. + +"Don't think you could connect with another, eh?" says I. + +He shakes his head. "I'm not exactly proud of the fact," says he; "but I +don't mind telling you in confidence that it required the combined +efforts of my entire family and all my friends to get me into this job." + +"Honest?" says I. "Chee! They picked a pippin for you, didn't they?" + +"It's a star," says he. + +"So's a swift kick from the bottom of a well," says I. + +With that I shakes off the pie crumbs and takes a chase up around the +Flatiron, to watch the kids collectin' cigar coupons and take a look at +the folks from the goshfry-mighty belt shiverin' in the rubberneck +buggies. Say, I never feel quite so much to home in this burg as when I +watch them jays from the one-night stands payin' their coin to see +things that I shut my eyes on every day. + +When I gets back on the gate I tries to figure out this Mallory gent; +but I can't place him. He's no Willie, and he's no dope, I can see that. +With his age and general get-up, though, he ought to be pullin' out +fifty or so a week. What's he been at all this time? + +I was just curious enough to stroll over and take a look at him. He has +his coat off, pluggin' away on the job and doin' the kind of work that I +could learn to play with any time I had a day off. Not that I'm lookin' +for it. Bein' head office boy suits me down to the ground. That's bein' +somethin', even if they do pay you off with a five and a one. But if +you're a live one you'll get tipped as much more. And you don't have +cold chills up the spine every time the boss lugs down an after +breakfast grouch. + +Course, a duck like Mallory can't get in any such game; so he's got to +dig away at the filin' case and wear his last summer's suit until +Christmas. Diggin' and keepin' quiet seemed to be his only play. Just as +though he'd ever win any medals by the way he stacked papers away in +little pasteboard boxes! + +He wins somethin' else, though. One day the general manager rushes into +Mallory's corner after somethin' he wanted in a hurry, and by the time +he'd found it he'd pied things from one end of the coop to the other. +Mallory was just tryin' to straighten out the mess, when along comes +Piddie, with that pointed nose of his in front. Piddie don't ask any +questions; he throws a fit. Why, he had Mallory on the carpet for forty +minutes by the clock, givin' him the grand roast, and the only time +Mallory opens up to tell him how it was he shuts him off with a, "That +is sufficient, Mr. Mallory! I am here to get results, not excuses. Is +that quite clear?" + +"Yes, sir," says Mallory. + +Say, but he did it well! He looks that peanut headed snipe straight in +the eye all the time after that and takes what's comin' to him without +turnin' a hair. It was "Yes, Mr. Piddie," and "No, Mr. Piddie"; but +nothin' else. And the cooler and politer he was, the wilder Piddie got. +When I hears him tell Mallory that another such break will cost him his +job, I was achin' to throw the letterpress at him and break him in two. +I couldn't hardly wait for Mallory to shut the door before I let loose. + +"Say, Piddie," says I, "if you don't think you'll sleep easy to-night +unless you give some one the bounce, why not fire me? Go on, now; I'll +make out a case for you. Tell 'em I said you howled around like a pup +with a sore ear." + +Piddie turns white and gives me the glassy eye--that's all. I couldn't +tease a fire out of him with a box of matches. + +But that didn't make up for the way he'd roughed Mallory. I was still +sore over it at closin' time; so I lays for Mallory and asks him why he +didn't risk the job and take a crack at Piddie's jaw. + +He just laughs. "Oh," says he, "I couldn't pay him that compliment." + +Was that a joke, yes? Blamed if I could tell. Anyway, it wa'n't sense. +And there's where I had the front to put it straight up to Mallory about +his bein' stranded in a place where he had to take such pin jabbin' as +that. + +"Say," says I, "is it hard luck, or a late start, or what?" + +"I fancy a late start would cover it," says he. + +"Not college?" says I. + +"That's it," says he. + +"Aw, fudge!" says I. "Honest, I didn't take you for one of them rah-rah +boys. Well, if it's that ails you, you're up against it. I don't wonder +you had to be jammed into a job with a flyin' wedge. Chee!" + +I was sorry for him, though. Maybe it was somethin' he couldn't duck. +Some of 'em I've known of couldn't. Oh, I've seen bunches of 'em, just +turned out. Didn't we have more'n a dozen unloaded on us when me and Mr. +Marshall was gettin' out the Sunday edition? And we didn't do a thing to +'em, either! + +But it's a tough deal, after puttin' in all that time dodgin' the fool +killer at some one else's expense, to be chucked into the grub game with +nothin' but a lot of siss-boom yells for experience. I wouldn't have +believed Mallory was that sort. Nice young feller, too. Never slung any +of his Greek at me, nor flashed his college pins. Seemed to kind of like +chinnin' to me at lunch; so I let him. You know how you'll get to +gassin' and tellin' each other the story of your life. I lets out about +Belmont Pepper and the minin' stocks he gave me, and Mallory drops hints +about mother and sister, that was livin' off in Washington or somewhere +with a brother that was in better luck. Mallory, he was doin' the hall +bedroom act, livin' on that twelve per and keepin' out of sight of +everyone he'd ever known until he'd made good. Guess he found it kind of +a lonesome deal. + +Once when I was extra flush I offers to blow him to a fam'ly circle seat +at "The Bandit Queen"; but he says he thinks he'd better not go. + +"Plannin' to have a spin in your new car?" says I. + +"Hardly," says he. + +"Well, how do you put in your off time, anyway?" says I. + +And say, whatcher think? His programme is to light up the gas stove +reg'lar after dinner and fill his head full of truck out of the trade +monthlies and Wall Street columns, postin' himself on Corrugated +business. + +"Gettin' ready to give the old man a few private tips?" says I. + +"Not until he asks for them," says he. + +"Then you've got lots of time," says I. "But it's a punk way of enjoyin' +yourself." + +Maybe it was thinkin' about what a dead slow time he was havin' that +gives me the cue to stir up that lovely mess, or perhaps it was because +the thing was sprung on me so unexpected. It come one day when I was +busy drawin' pictures of Piddie on the blotter. I hears a giggle, and +squints up to see a pair that looked as if they'd just broke away from +an afternoon tea. He was a husky youth in a frock coat, with a face like +a full moon and a voice that didn't call for any megaphone. The other +was a her, and she was a bundle of tuttifrutti, the kind you see +floatin' by in sixty horsepowers, all veils and furs and eyes. + +"Hello, sonny," says he, swingin' up to the brass gate, wearin' a +four-inch grin. "Where's the Great Skid?" + +"Give it up," says I. "Have you tried the Zoo?" + +"He-haw!" says he, with the stops all out and a forced draft on. "That's +a good one, that is! But we haven't much time and we're looking for +Skid. Where do you keep him?" + +"Say," says I, "we've got a lot of freaks on tap; but we're just out of +Skids. Anything else do?" + +Then she comes to the front. "Don't be such a silly, Dicky!" says she. +"It isn't likely they call him that here. Tell the young man it's Bert +Mallory we wish to see." + +"You're right, Sis, right as usual," says Dick. "It's Mallory we're +looking for." + +"Oh!" says I. "Mister Mallory?" + +"There now, Dicky!" says she, pokin' him with her elbow and touchin' off +another giggle. "Didn't I tell you?" + +"He-haw!" says Dicky. "Mister Mallory, of course." + +But I didn't feel he-hawy a bit; for it was up to me to tow Mallory's +swell college chum and his sister in where the boy was jugglin' the file +cases. And them lookin' for him to be sittin' in a swing chair with his +name painted big on the door! That was when I dug up my fool thought. + +"Cards!" says I. "I'll see if Mr. Mallory's got through consultin' with +the general manager." + +"Oh!" gurgles Sis. "Doesn't that sound business like, though? I suppose +Skid--er--Mr. Mallory is quite a busy man, isn't he?" + +"Busy," says I. "Say, you don't think he has all of us around here to +play marbles, do you, miss?" + +Sis, she gets mighty int'rested at that. "He's a very important man now, +isn't he?" says she. + +"Chee, yes!" says I. "He's I-double-it around here." + +"Isn't that fine?" says Sis. "But I hope he can see us." + +"Oh, I'll fix that all right," says I. + +With that I slides through two doors and into Mr. Robert's room. He's +still out to lunch, of course, it bein' only about two o'clock; so I +unlocks the corridor door that he don't use and skips across into the +general offices. + +"Say," says I to Mallory, "you're wanted in the boss's office. No, not +the old man's; Mr. Robert's. Skin into your coat and come along." + +Never fazes him a bit. He just hunches his shoulders, knocks the dust +off his hands, and trots after. When I gets him in there I tells him to +wait a minute, and then I goes out through the right way and lugs in +Dicky and sister. + +Was it a surprise party? Well, say! Dicky lets out a roar, makes a +plunge for him, hammers him on the back, works the pump handle, and +talks a blue streak. + +"Well, Skiddy, old man, here we are!" says he. "Thought you'd given us +the shake for good, eh? But we heard you'd gone in with the +Corrugated,--saw Blicky in Venice and he told us,--so when we came +ashore we wired father to hold the car over one train for us while we +hunted you up. Sis wouldn't let me come unless she could too. Here, Sis, +it's your turn. Blaze ahead now and give the boy what you said you +would. I'll turn my back." + +I didn't, though. Was there any hangin' off about Sis? Not so you'd +notice it. She just steps up and makes a grab for Mallory and----Aw, +say! One like that must be good for chapped lips. If I'm ever handed one +of them kind I won't wash it off for a month. It tickles Dicky most to +death. + +"He-haw!" says he, so's the window panes rattle. "She said she'd do it. +And she did, didn't she, eh, Skid?" + +Mallory couldn't prove an alibi. He was the worst rattled man I ever +see, and as for blushin'--he got up a color like the lady heroine in a +biff-bang drama. He acted as though he didn't know whether he was +loopin' the loops or having a dream that was too good to be true. Once +or twice he tried to unloosen some remarks; but Sis and Dicky was both +talkin' to once and he never got a show. They was tellin' him how glad +they was to see him again, and what a great man he was, and how Sis was +comin' back to town next month for the rest of the season, and all +that--when right in the middle of it the door opens and in comes Mr. +Robert. + +Say, I felt like a noon extra in a bunch of six o'clock editions. I'd +balled things up lovely, I had! Why, the only times a general office +hand ever gets a chance to stand on the Persian rug in the boss's office +is just before he gets the run or is boosted into a five-figure salary. +And here I has a twelve-dollar man usin' it like a public reception +hall! It was what was goin' to happen to Mallory that gave me the +shivers. + +"Torchy," says Mr. Robert, "what's all this?" + +"S-s-sh!" says I. "It's Old Home Day, and the lady is handin' out +choc'late creams. Wait up; maybe it'll be your turn next." + +"But, see here, I don't understand," says he. "Who are these persons, +and why----" + +"Ah, say!" says I. "Ain't you got any sportin' blood? Besides, I don't +know the answer myself." + +I could of kept that up just about one more round before I'd fell +through a crack; but just as Mr. Robert was framin' up another conundrum +Dicky turns around and spots him. + +"Why, hello, Bob!" yells Dicky, as gentle as if he was hailin' someone +across Broadway. "By Jove, though, I forgot all about you being in the +Corrugated too! But of course you are. Sis and I just ran in a minute to +look up Skid. Good old Skid! Great boy, eh, Bob?" + +Mr. Robert takes a look over by the window at Mallory, who wasn't seein' +a thing but Sis and wasn't hearin' anything but what she was sayin'--and +she was sayin' a lot. + +"Is--is that Skid?" says Mr. Robert. + +"Oh, come along now, Bob," says Dicky, pokin' him in the vest playful. +"You don't mean to say you don't know Skid Mallory, the Great Skid, best +quarterback we ever turned out, the one that went through Harvard for +forty-five yards, and that with a broken ankle? Don't know Skid? Why, +say!" + +"I take it all back," says Mr. Robert. "Of course I know him; but not so +well as you do, Dicky. I wasn't one of the coaches, you know, and I +haven't kept the run of the team for the last year or two. But I'm glad +to see the Great Skid. How the deuce does he happen to be up here, +though?" + +"He-haw!" says Dicky. "That's rich, that is? Shows how much you know of +Corrugated affairs, Bob. Why, man alive, Skid's one of the chaps that's +runnin' your old gent's trust. This is his office you're in now." + +"Really!" says Mr. Robert. He takes another look at Mallory, who's deaf +and dumb and blind to everything but Sis, and then he turns for a good +hard look at me. + +I grins kind of foolish and nods. Then I jumps behind Dicky and begins +to wigwag over his shoulder for Mr. Robert to keep it up. I didn't know +whether he would or not. I wa'n't sure but what he'd think I'd turned +batty, by the motions I was goin' through; but he's a sport, Mr. Robert +is. He didn't know what was on the card; but he takes a chance. + +So Dicky waltzes him over to the pair by the window, and makes Mr. +Robert and Mallory acquainted, and jollies 'em both, and all three of +'em talk football to Mallory, who blushes worse than ever and don't +know which way to turn. They keep that up until Dicky pulls out his +watch, grabs Sis by the arm, and hollers that they've got to make a +break for the Washington Limited. Sis is shakin' good-by with both of +'em at once, when she thinks of somethin' funny. + +"Oh, Mr. Robert!" says she. "I want to know which of you is who here, +don't you know. Is it you that works for Skid, or Skid that works for +you?" + +"Chee!" thinks I. "That upsets the soup kettle." + +Mr. Robert looks at Mallory, and Mallory looks at him. There was no +breakin' away; for she has hold of a hand apiece. Both of 'em makes a +start; but Mr. Robert gets the floor. "Why," says he, "I guess we're +both working for the Corrugated, only one of us works a little harder +than the other." + +"Ah!" says Sis, givin' Mallory a smile that was worth payin' money to +see. "I thought so." + +The next minute they makes a dash for an elevator goin' down, and that +part of it was over. We'd worked the bluff all the way through, and Sis +has lugged off the idea that Mallory was at the top of the bunch. + +But there was Mr. Robert, waitin' to talk Dutch to us. + +Mallory he starts in to say that he's sorry for seemin' so cheeky; but +that's about all he can say. + +"Ah, cheese it!" says I, buttin' in. "What do you know about it? It was +me put up the game, and if Mr. Robert had loafed another half an hour at +the club like he usually does, there wouldn't have been any mix up. Say, +you leave this to me." + +Mallory didn't want to leave it like that; but Mr. Robert was holdin' +the door open for him, so he couldn't do anything else. When we had it +all to ourselves, the boss ranges me up in front of him for the court of +inquiry session. + +"Well?" says he, real solemn. + +I takes all that in and gives him the wink. "Say," says I, "didn't I +have my nerve with me, though?" + +He kind of blinks at that; but it don't fetch him. + +"Who's Dicky, your whisperin' friend?" says I. + +"Nobody much," says he. "His father's a Senator." + +"Well, say, now," says I, "you didn't want me to chase a Senator's son +and a real swell girl like Sis off into a place like the general office +reception room, did you! And wouldn't it have been a nice break if I'd +let out that we was smotherin' the Great Skid under a twelve-dollar +job?" + +"Was that why you had the impudence to appropriate my office?" says he. + +"That was part of it," says I. + +And that gives me an openin' to tell him the whole tale about Mallory, +from the hall bedroom act to the way he'd been postin' himself. + +"You think he's a valuable man, do you?" says Mr. Robert. + +"Valuable!" says I. "Why, he's all the goods. What if he did learn to +talk Greek once? He's forgettin' it, ain't he? And look at the way he +stands up to trouble! Don't that show there's good stuff in him?" + +"Well," says he, "what would you suggest?" + +"Ah, say!" says I. "Couldn't you give a guess? Why, if I was you I'd fix +it so that when Sis comes back to town she wouldn't find him on no kid's +job. I'd give him a show to get his name painted on a door somewhere." + +"Torchy," says he, punchin' the button for his secretary, "I shouldn't +wonder if we did." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +FROSTING THE PROFESS + + +Chee! but I'm gettin' to be useful! Course, I don't figure out no awful +slump in Corrugated stocks if I should get pettish some day and tell 'em +they'd got to find a new office boy. That ain't the kind of shredded +thought I'm feedin' on. I fit into a lot of places besides the chair +behind the brass gate. Why, I have to put on a sub. three or four times +a week, while I'm spreadin' myself out all over the lot. + +It all come of their makin' me special messenger to the boss; for since +old Mr. Ellins has been laid up with toothache in his knee joints +they've been chasin' me up to the Fift'-ave. ranch, with mail, and blank +bonds to be signed, and such truck. And that's how I came to get so +thick with Marjorie. + +I was waitin' in the front hall, pipin' off the gorgerifousness, when +some one pushes in through the draperies L. U. E. and I'm discovered. +And, say, she was a magnum, all right! You know the sort of pippins they +pick out to hang up by a string in the fruit store window? Well, that +was her style. Big? She'd fit close in a Morris chair! And she didn't +look more'n eighteen or nineteen, either. For all her width, she was +built on good lines, and if she'd been divided up right there'd been +enough for a pair of as good lookers as you'd want to see. + +"O-o-o-o!" says she as she comes in. "See who's here!" + +I never says a word, but just twists my toes around the chair legs and +looks into my hat. Not that I'm any afraid of girls; but I wa'n't +feelin' so much to home there as I do in some places, and I didn't want +to make any break. But she wouldn't let it go at that. + +"O-o-o-o!" says she again, and as I squints up at her I sees the reg-lar +cut-up looks just bubblin' out. + +"G'wan!" says I. "I ain't no curiosity." + +"Oh, it is Torchy then, isn't it?" says she. + +"You don't think this is a wig I'm wearin', do you?" says I. That's what +I got to expect with hair like mine. The minute my description's given +out everybody's on. + +She giggles and says that Brother Robert's been telling her about me. +"I'm Marjorie, you know," says she. + +"Well," says I, lookin' her over careful, "you'll do." + +I meant it. Mr. Robert's only fair sized; but old man Ellins is a whale, +and I was thinkin' of him when I said that Marjorie was up to +specifications. She seems to think I've handed out a lump of +butterscotch, though, and we gets real chatty. + +I don't know what kind of fairy yarns Mr. Robert's been tearin' off at +home about me; but from the start she treats me like I was one of the +fam'ly. And Marjorie was just as nice as she was heavy. She didn't try +to carry any dog; but just blazes ahead and spiels out the talk. I get +next to the fact that she's just home from one of them swell boardin' +schools, where they pump French and music into young lady plutesses at a +dollar a minute, and throw in lessons on how to say "Home, François!" to +the chaffeur. This was some kind of a vacation Marjorie was havin', and +she was doin' her best to make every hour count. + +Knowin' all that helped me to keep from bein' so much jarred by her next +move. It was a couple of days after, on a Wednesday, and we'd got real +well acquainted, when Marjorie spots me as I was headin' back for the +office after leavin' some things for the boss. + +"Torchy," says she, "where's Robert? What was he doing when you left?" + +"Give it up," says I. "And, anyway, I ain't supposed to know." + +"I'll bet you do, though," says she. "Couldn't you guess?" + +"If I did," says I, "I'd guess that he'd just made a run of ten or +twelve and was pushin' up the buttons on the string." + +"I don't know what that means," says she. + +"Well," says I, "it means that maybe he's playin' billiards at the +club." + +"Oh, darn!" says she, real wicked. + +It turns out that Brother Robert has said he'd take sister to the +matinée that afternoon, and the date has got clean by him. She wants to +go the worst way, too. Mother wasn't handy, Aunty May had the icebag on +her head, and there wasn't anyone else within reach. Accordin' to the +rules, there'd got to be some one. + +"Torchy," says she, "I don't see why you couldn't take me, as well as +anyone else." + +"Thanks," says I, "but I don't want to earn my release that way. I've +got 'em trained down to the office so they'll stand for a lot; but me +ringin' in a matinée durin' business hours would sure break the spell." + +"Oh, pshaw!" says she. "I can fix that part of it," and off she goes, up +to see puppah. + +If she'd come back and said the old man was havin' a fit on the floor, I +wouldn't have been any surprised. But, say, Marjorie must have a pull +accordin' to her weight; for inside of four minutes she comes skippin' +down the front stairs, makin' the gas globes rattle and jigglin' the +pictures on the wall. + +"It's all right," says she. "Father says you're to telephone Mr. Piddie +that you won't be back, and then you're to see that I get to the theater +and home again without being kidnapped. I'll be ready in ten minutes." + +It was a shame, though, that I missed seein' Piddie when he got the +word. All I could hear was a gasp, like he'd been butted just above the +belt, and then he hung up the receiver. I expect I'll send him to the +nerve repair shop some day. + +But you should have seen me and Marjorie sittin' on the broadcloth +cushions and bein' carted down to the theater. I swelled up all I could; +but at that I wa'n't much more'n a dot on the landscape. There's times +when I feel real chesty and can hear my feet make a noise when I walk; +but this wa'n't one of 'em. And when it came to paradin' down the middle +row after the usher, with Marjorie puffin' behind, I felt like one of +them dinky little river tugs towin' a floatin' grain elevator. I was +lookin' for the house to let loose a "Ha-ha!" It didn't, though. They +expect most anything to drift into them afternoon shows. + +"Say, Miss Ellins," says I, after she'd squeezed herself into her place, +pinned her feather lid up in front of her, and opened the choc'late +creams, "I've been in such a dream I didn't look at the outside boards +or get a programme. What's doin'--variety or a tumpy-tump show?" + +"Why," says she, "this is Shakespeare's 'Romeo and Juliet.'" + +"Z-z-z-zing!" says I. "Stung again! Who unloaded the tickets on you?" + +What d'ye think, though? She'd picked this show out all by herself, put +up real money for it--and that with two Injun drammers runnin' right on +Broadway! Said she'd seen the same thing half a dozen times before, too. +Aw, say! I couldn't get next to any such batty move as that. And when I +thought how this was my first plunge into a two-dollar chair, it made me +sore. + +"Wake me up when it's all over," says I, and settles back for a real +rest. + +There's where I hung out the wrong number. That wa'n't any dope drammer +at all. Course, Shakespeare don't know how to ring in burnin' flat +houses, or mill explosions, or any real thrillers like that; but there's +somethin' doin' in his pieces. There was in this one, anyway. It was +quite some time before I got any glimmer of what it was all about; but +before the first act was over I was sittin' up, all right. + +"What do you think of her?" says Marjorie. + +"The one with the Maxine Elliott eyes and the gushy voice?" says I. "Oh, +I don't call her such a much; but if Romeo wants her as bad as he says +he does, I hope it won't be a case of 'My pa won't let me.' But, say, +what for did they kill off the only real live one they had, that Mr. +Cuteo? Say, he was all to the good, and it was a shame to have him +punctured so quick!" + +The parts I liked, though, wa'n't the ones that Marjorie got herself +worked up over. It was the balcony scene she'd come for. When they got +to that she grips the seat in front and glues her eyes on them two that +was swappin' the long, lingerin' breakaway tackles, and every once in +awhile she heaves up a sigh like cuttin' out an airbrake. + +After it was all over, and most everybody that counted had swallowed +knockout drops, Marjorie gives me a sidelight on what's been runnin' +through her head. + +"I could do that," says she. "I just know I could!" + +"Do what?" says I. + +"Why, Juliet's part. I've been studying it for months, ever since our +class gave it at school. They wouldn't give me a part then; but just you +wait! I'll show them!" + +"You're joshin'," says I. + +Honest, I didn't think she meant it. She didn't say any more about it, +and all the way home she was as quiet as a bale of hay. + +That was the last I see of Marjorie for near a week. Then, one afternoon +as I was goin' through Tinpan Alley on an errand, I sees the Ellins +carriage pull up, and out she comes. + +Now, say, I knew in a minute that wa'n't any place for Marjorie. The +buildin' she goes into is one of them old five-story brownstones, where +they sell wigs in the basement, costumes on the first floor, have a +theatrical agency on the second, and give voice culture and such stuff +above. Among the other signs was one that read, "School of Dramatic Art, +Room 9, Fifth Floor." + +"Chee!" says I. "You don't suppose Marjorie's got it that bad, do you?" + +First off I thinks I'll chase along and forget I'd seen anything at all. +Then I thinks of what Mr. Robert would say if he knew, and I stops. +Sure, I hadn't been called to play any Buttinsky part; but somehow I +didn't feel right about stayin' out, so the first thing I knows I'm +trailin' up the stairs. There wa'n't any need to do the sleuth act after +Marjorie got started. Anyone on the floor could have heard it; for she +was spoutin' the Juliet lines like a carriage caller, and whenever she +made a rush to the footlights the floor beams creaked. It was enough to +drag a laugh out of a hearse driver. And guess what the guy was tellin' +her! + +"Great!" says he. "You're almost as good as Mary Anderson was at her +best, and as for Marlowe, she can't touch you. Excellent, that last +speech! What fire, what expression, what talent! Why, young woman, all +you need is a Broadway production to sweep 'em off their feet! I'll +arrange it for you. It means money, of course; but after the first +cost--fame, nothing but fame!" + +Now, how was that for a hot-air blast? Wouldn't that make a short ice +crop if you let it loose up the Hudson? + +But it wa'n't what he said, so much as how he was sayin' it, that got me +int'rested. There's some voices you don't have to hear but once to +remember a lifetime, an this was one of that kind. It was one of these +husky baritones, like what does the coonsongs for the punky records they +put into the music boxes at the penny arcades. That was as near as I +could map it for a minute or so while I was tryin' to throw up the +picture of the man behind the voice. And, then it hits me--Professor +Booth McCallum! + +Oh, skincho, what a front! Why, when I was on the Sunday editor's door +the professor used to show up reg'lar with some new scheme for winnin' +space. Talk about your self-acting press agents! He had the bunch shoved +to the curb. All he had to bank on was a ten-minute turn at a 14th-st. +continuous house, fillin' in between the trained pig and the strong +lady; but he wanted as much type set about himself as if he'd been Dave +Warfield. + +When he couldn't get next to anybody else, he used to give me the +earache tellin' of the times when he played stock in one of Daly's road +comp'nies, and how he had to quit because John Drew was jealous of him. +Then he'd leave his stuff with me and I'd promise to sneak it into the +dramatic notes the first time I found the forms unlocked. + +And to think of a hamfatter like McCallum, who's come back from Buffalo +on a brake beam so often that he always sleeps with one arm crooked +around the bedpost, havin' the nerve to call himself a school of +dramatic art! Course, I didn't think Marjorie was so easy as to fall for +a fake like that. She must be stringin' him. + +But the minute I see her come out I knew she'd swallowed the hook. I'd +dropped back into the far end of the hall, where it was dark; but as she +walks under the skylight I sees the pleased look on her face, like she +was havin' a view of her lithographs on all the gold frames in the +subway. I waits until McCallum shuts himself in to throw bouquets at his +picture in the glass, and then I slips down just in time to catch +Marjorie as she's climbin' into the carriage. + +"Is this the lady that's entered for the heavyweight Juliet +championship?" says I, tryin' to break the news to her gentle. + +It shook her up a good deal, just the same. Her face gets the color of +an auction flag, and she jounces down on the seat in a way that makes +the springs flat out like bed slats. + +"Why, Torchy!" says she. "Where did you come from, and what do you +mean?" + +"Oh, I've taken out a butt-in license," says I. "I'm on, Miss Ellins. I +wa'n't invited to the rehearsal; but I was there." + +"Listening outside?" says she. + +"Uh-huh," says I. + +"Oh, Torchy!" says she. "Did you hear how lovely the professor talked of +the way I did it?" + +"About your havin' Julia Marlowe sewed in a sack? Sure thing," says I. + +"But you mustn't tell anyone," says she. + +"I wouldn't want the job," says I. "I can draw a diagram of the riot +there'll be when mommer and popper get the bulletin." + +"I don't care," says Marjorie. "They never want me to do anything. It's +always, 'Oh, Marjorie, you're too big.' In summer I can't go bathing +because they say I'm a sight in a bathing suit, and in winter they won't +let me skate because they're afraid I'll break through. The boys won't +dance with me, and the girls shut me out of basketball. But Professor +McCallum has been perfectly dear. He said right away that I wasn't a bit +too stout to be an actress. I'm not, either! Why, I weigh less than two +hundred, with my jacket off; honest, I do! He liked my voice, too. And +this was only my third lesson. Anyway, I'd just love to play Juliet, and +I mean to do it!" + +Well, say, that was a proposition to give you a headache. I couldn't go +runnin' to Mr. Robert or the boss with any tales about Miss Marjorie. +That ain't what I'm on the payroll for. But I couldn't let McCallum play +a friend of mine for a good thing; so I just opens up on him. + +"Why," says I, "he's a never was. Maybe he used to carry a spear, or +play double-up parts on the haymow circuit; but that's about all. He's a +common, everyday, free lunch frisker, Mac is. I used to know all about +him when I was in the newspaper business; so this is a straight steer. +He's just tollin' you along because he's had a dream that if he gets you +real stuck on yourself you'll come across with two or three thousand for +expenses and will be too tender-hearted to squeal afterwards. That's his +game, and all you've got to do to queer it is to send him ten and say +the folks object." + +That's about the way I put it, drawin' it as strong as I knew how. Does +Marjorie see the point and heave up any thanks about my bein' her true +friend? Not her! She calls me impid'nt and says she's got a good mind to +box my ears right there. So it was up to me to calm her down. + +"All right, Miss Marjorie," says I. "If I've said anything I can't +prove, I'll take it back; but if you'll follow me upstairs again for a +minute, and wait outside in the hall, I'll have a little talk with the +professor that'll settle it one way or the other." + +No, she wouldn't do it, and she didn't want me ever to speak to her +again. I was too fresh, I was! + +"Then I guess I'll have to send Mr. Robert up to engage seats for that +Juliet stab of yours," says I, makin' a play to move off. + +It was a bluff; but it fetched her. She was willin' to do 'most anything +if I wouldn't tell Brother Robert; so back we goes up to the acting +school on the top floor. I left her leanin' up against the wall, right +near the open transom, and makes a break for McCallum. + +He was right there, too. He's one of these short-legged, ham-faced gents +that's almost as tall when he's sittin' down as when he's standin' up. A +neck that takes a No. 18 turn-down collar goes with that. He has his +hands in his pockets, an Egyptian joss-stick in his mouth, and he's +straddlin' up and down, as satisfied with himself as if he'd just cashed +a ticket on the right horse. + +"Hello, profess!" says I. "I spots your name on the sign; so I takes the +foot elevator up to see how you're comin' on." + +"Quite right, son," says he, "quite right." + +He didn't need any whizz plane then to beat the Curtiss record. He was +soarin', soarin,' and too busy with it to take much notice of me. + +"You ain't been round to the office lately," says I, lettin' on I was +still with the paper. + +"No, son," says he; "but you can inform your dramatic man down there +that if he wants an important piece of news he'd better come and see +me," and with that he taps his chest like he was stunnin' the gallery. + +"Thought you looked like happy days, professor," says I. "What's it +like? You ain't been takin' on any swell pupils, have you?" + +"Haven't I, though?" says he, stickin' his thumbs in his vest pockets +and comin' up on his toes as if he was goin' to crow. "Haven't I?" + +"Say, Mac," says I confidential, "that wasn't her I saw drivin' off in +the private buggy as I come in, was it--the wide one?" + +"That was her," says he, "the new Juliet." + +"Juliet!" says I. "Aw, you're kiddin'! Honest, professor, do Juliets +come as heavy as that?" + +Then he winks. I could see he was just bustin' to let it out to some +one, and here was his chance. "Son," says he, "when young ladies have +the price to pay for such luxuries as the cultivation of a dramatic +talent that doesn't exist, size doesn't count. I've coached a Hamlet +with lop ears and a pug nose, a Lady of Lyons that had a face you could +chop wood with, and I guess I'm not going to draw the line at a Juliet +whose father is president of a trust, even if she is something of a baby +elephant!" + +I heard the wall crack at that, and I suspected Marjorie'd got a shock. + +"Can she act any?" says I. + +"Act!" says he. "It's enough to make the angels weep to see her try. +Imagine, my boy, a one hundred and thirty-pound Romeo trying to hug his +way around a two hundred and fifty-pound Juliet! Why, we'd have to prop +up the balcony with a structural iron pillar and----" + +It was too bad to have the flow stopped, for he was enjoyin' himself; +but just then the door was jerked open and in rushes Marjorie, her eyes +blazin', her face white, and so mad she couldn't speak. As she looms up +in the door, lookin' bigger'n ever, she was diggin' somethin' out of her +handbag, somethin' shiny. It wa'n't anything but a silver purse; but +the professor must have thought it was somethin' else, for he gives only +one look. Then he throws up both hands, hollers "Don't shoot, don't +shoot!" and makes a dive under a desk in the corner. The hole under that +desk wa'n't built for divin' through; so McCallum wedges himself in +there like a cork in a bottle, wavin' his legs in the air, and callin' +for help. + +"There!" says Marjorie, throwin' some bills on the floor. "That's for +what I owe you, you horrid old fraud! Baby elephant, am I? Oh, you +wretch!" With that she goes out and bangs the door behind her. + +It was all me and the cornet artist next door could do to separate +McCallum from the desk, and even when we worked him loose he didn't want +to come out. When we'd got him into a chair, and he'd felt himself all +over careful, he says to me: + +"Torchy, how--how many times did she shoot?" + +And when I gets back to the office Mr. Robert wants to know why I didn't +let 'em know I was goin' all the way to Washington after them stamps. + +"Chee!" says I, "but you're gettin' restless! Maybe you think I oughter +travel by pneumatic tube? Huh!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +WHERE MILDRED GOT NEXT + + +There's nothin' wins out surer in this town of New York than puttin' up +a good front. If you've got the fur coat and the goggles on your cap, +you can walk or ride on a transfer, and folks'll take it as a cinch that +your bubble's back in the garage bein' fitted with a new set of +hundred-dollar tires. Why, just the smell of benzine on a suit you've had +out to the cleaners will give 'em the dream, if you throw your chest out +right. + +Look at the way Mildred has us goin'. Maybe you don't know about +Mildred. Say, I'll bet if you met up with her on Fift'-ave. you'd hold +your breath till she got by and wonder whether she was a Vanderbilt or +one of the Goulds! But she floats into the Corrugated Trust offices more +or less reg'lar every day, just the same, and does her little stunt on +the typewriter at so much per. Honest, when I sees her sailin' in +mornin's, with all her swell drygoods on, I'm just as liable as not to +half break my neck openin' the door for her. That's what I did the +first time I saw her, when I was new on the gate. + +"This way, lady," says I, and when she pikes right by and heads for the +cloakroom I almost has a fit. + +Maybe there's some hot ones down around Broad-st. that drives to +business in cabs and pounds the keys durin' office hours; but for a +genuine, mercerized near silk we stand ready to back Mildred against the +field. She'd have an expert guessin', Mildred would. "Miss Morgan" is +the way she figures on the payroll; but that never sounded rich enough +for me. + +It was the first week I was there that I begun to get a line on Mildred. +One day the old man calls me in and hands me a letter that's been put on +his desk for him to sign. He was plum color, Old Hickory was, so mad he +could have chewed a file. + +"Boy," says he, "take this into the main office, find out who M. M. is, +and bring her in here. Anybody that can spell in that fashion I want to +take a good look at." + +Think of the shock I gets when Piddie tells me them letters stand for +Mildred Morgan. + +"Lady," says I, "I hates to say it, but the boss is waitin' to hand out +a call-down to you. Don't you go to gettin' scared stiff, though; for the +first cussword he lets go of I'll chuck a chair at him." + +The smile I gets for that would have been worth half a dozen jobs. I was +lookin' for her to go white and begin bitin' her upper lip, like they +usually does; but she ain't that kind--not on your nameplate! She just +peels off the sleeve protectors, sets her side combs in firm, gives her +face a dab or so with the rabbit's foot, and starts along after me, with +that new antelope walk of hers, as easy and pleased as if she'd been +asked to come to the front and pour tea. + +And she's got the costume the part calls for, mind you! They're the only +clothes of the kind I ever see wore into this buildin'. I couldn't say +what they was made of; but I know they're the button-up-the-back style, +and that they stick to her as if they'd been put on by a paper-hanger. I +guess you'd call Mildred a 1911 model. Anyway, she seems to bulge in the +right places; though how anyone so long-waisted as that can get +themselves into such a rig without callin' for help is somethin' I +passes up. + +Well, I tows her into the boss's office, feelin' as mean as a welsher. +The old man has settled back in his chair, a cigar pointin' out of one +corner of his mouth, and a letter in one fist. While I'm gone he's run +across another, worse than the first, by the marks he's made on it, and +he's got to the point where a thermometer slipped down the back of his +neck would go off like a cap pistol. + +"See here!" says he, growlin' it out grouchy, without lookin' up. "I'd +like to have you run your eye over that, and then tell me where in +thunder you learned to spell such s-u-t-c-h!" + +"Why," says she, "I always spell it that way; don't you?" + +"Don't I!" roars the old man. "Do you take me for a----" + +Then he looks up. Well, say, you talk about your fadin' sunsets! Nothin' +I ever see beat the way the boss lost his crushed raspb'rry face tint +and bleached out salmon pink. "Why--why--er--are you sure this is some +of your work, young woman?" + +"Oh yes, indeed," says she, kind of gurgly and aristocratic and as sweet +as pie, "that's mine. But you've made so many horrid marks on it that I +shall have to do it all over again." + +"Yes," says he, "I'm afraid that's so. But we have a way here, you know, +of spelling explicit with a C instead of an S." + +"Ruhlly?" says she. "How odd!" + +"It's one of our fads, too," goes on the old man, "not to spell +Corrugated g-a-i-t-e-d. We've simplified it by leaving out the I. Of +course, we don't expect you to learn all these things at once; but pick +'em up as fast as you can. That--that's all. Thank you very much, +Miss--er----What's the name?" + +"Morgan," says she, "Mildred Morgan." + +"Ah," says the boss, "very much obliged, Mil--er--Miss Morgan," and +before I could get to the door he has hopped up and opened it for her. + +Then he turns around and sees me standin' there grinnin'. "Torchy," says +he, "are there any more like that around the shop?" + +"None that I ever saw," says I. + +"Thank Heaven!" says he. "Send in one of the other kind." + +"Want a real ripe one?" says I. + +He does. And say, we got plenty of them. I picks out one with washed-out +eyes, front teeth that sticks out, and no shape to speak of. She could +make the typewriter do a double shuffle, though, and there couldn't +anybody around the place sling out words faster'n she could take 'em +down on her pad, or any she couldn't spell right the first crack. The +old man fixes it that she's to go over Mildred's work with an ink eraser +before it comes to him. + +If Mildred knew about it, she never let on. Nothin' much bothered her. +She'd come sailin' in any old time durin' the forenoon, lookin' as +han'some as a florist's window and actin' as if she never heard of such +a thing as a time clock. Piddie tackles her only once. + +"Miss Morgan," says he, "business begins here at nine o'clock promptly." + +"How absurd!" says Mildred, and Piddie don't get over the shock for an +hour. + +About the second week all hands took a vote that Mildred wa'n't much of +a success as a typewriter artist and that she ought to be fired. The old +man put it up to Mr. Robert, and Mr. Robert shoves it back at him. Then +they both loaded it onto Piddie and cleared out. When they come back +they asks him if he's done it. + +"Well," says he, colorin' up, "not exactly." + +Come to make him own up, he'd gone at the job so easy and had been so +polite about it that Miss Morgan has time to head him off with a strike +for more pay, and before he can back out he's promised to see what can +be done. + +"Couldn't you talk to her, Mr. Ellins?" says he. + +"Great Scott, no!" says the boss. "Tell her she's raised, and let it go +at that." + +For awhile, though, Mildred cost the firm a lot more money than her +salary, if you reckon up as worth anything the time a lot of two-by-four +ink-slingers spent makin' goo-goo eyes at her. It was a losin' game all +around. Mildred didn't seem to be pinin' for any such honors, and after +they got well acquainted with the fact that she wouldn't stand for lunch +invites, or bids to the theater, and didn't want to be walked home with +by a perfect gent, they let up on that foolishness. It leaves 'em dizzy, +though. There's pinheads on our gen'ral office staff who believes they +never missed breakin' a heart before, and they can't figure out just +what's the matter with the combination. + +There was others, too, that couldn't place Mildred, until some one hints +that maybe she's a sure enough swell whose folks had gone broke, and +that she's picked out a typewriter job as a sort of trapdoor that would +let her down out of sight and keep the meal ticket renewed. + +After that Mildred is as much of a myst'ry as why folks live in +Brooklyn. We was all wise to the main proposition, though, and it was +funny to hear 'em all sayin' that they'd known it right along. Kind of +set us up some, too, havin' a real ex-ice cutter like her right on the +floor with us. All the other key pounders, that had been givin' her the +stary eye at first, flops around and uses the sugar shaker. There wasn't +anything they wouldn't do for her, and they takes turns holdin' her +jacket, so's to get a peek at the trademark on the inside of the collar. + +But Piddie is the most pleased of any. He thinks he's right to home +among carriage folks, and every time she comes near he bows and scrapes +and begins to shoot off the "Aw, I'm suah's" and the "Don'tcher know's," +until you'd think he was talkin' through a mouthful of hot breakfast +food. + +"Chee!" says I to him. "You act like you thought this was a five o'clock +tea." + +"I trust," says he, "I know a lady when I see one, and that I know how +to treat her too." + +"That's so," says I. "Too bad you wa'n't on the stage, Piddie, in one of +them 'Me lu'd, the carriage waits' parts." + +That gives me a cue, and the next time she sends me for supplies I says +to him, "Mr. Piddie," says I, "the Lady Mildred presents her compliments +and says she wants a new paste brush." + +Gets him wild, that does; so I sticks to it. The others hears it and +picks it up too, and she wa'n't called anything but Lady Mildred from +that on. First thing I knew I'd said it to her face; but she never so +much as looks surprised. You'd thought she'd been called Lady Mildred +all her life. + +"Who knows?" says Piddie. "Perhaps she has." + +Honest, we was makin' up all kinds of pipe dreams about her, and +believin' 'em as we went along. There was no findin' out from her what +was so and what she wa'n't. She never gets real chummy with anyone; but +keeps us jollied along about so much. It was dead easy. All she had to +do was to throw a smile our way, and we was tickled for a week. Wasn't +anyone around the place needed so much waitin' on as her; but no one +ever minds. Gen'rally there was two or three on the jump for her, and +others willin' to be. + +Course, that don't include Mr. Robert. He seems to think Lady Mildred +was some kind of a joke; but, then, I expect he sees so many stunners +like her every night, knockin' around at dinner parties and such, that +he gets tired lookin' at 'em. I'd been carryin' it against him, though, +and maybe that's what put it into my nut to get so gay with Louie. + +Louie's the gent in the leather leggin's and north-pole outfit that +comes around after Mr. Robert every night with the machine. Say, it's a +reg'lar rollin' bay window, that car of Mr. Robert's! I wouldn't mind +havin' one of that kind taggin' around after me. But if I was pickin' a +shover I'd pass Louie by. He wears his nose too high in the air and is +too friendly with himself to suit me. There's a lot of them honk-honk +boys just like him; but he's the only one I ever has a chance to get +real confidential with. It's like this: + +Mr. Robert says to me, "Torchy, if I'm not back by five o'clock, you may +tell Louie when he comes that he needn't wait." + +"Sure thing," says I. + +Then, when Mr. Robert don't show up at closin' time, I chases down to +the curb and sings out, "Hey, Frenchy, you tip huntin' ex-waiter! It's +back to the garage for yours! And say! After you've run your old coal +cart into the shed you can go let yourself out as a sign for a fur +store. Ah, that's right. Nothin' doin' here. Skidoo!" + +Always makes me feel better after I've handed Louie one like that--his +ears turns such a lovely pink, specially when there's a crowd around. +When I has time to chew it over I can think up some beauts. But this +night I was goin' to tell you about I didn't have any warnin' at all. +Mr. Robert was right in the middle of a heart-to-heart talk with a +Pittsburg man, when five o'clock comes and the word is sent up that +Louie has came. + +"Tell him to come back in about half an hour," says Mr. Robert to me. + +"Repeat at five-thirt'," says I, sliding out for the elevator. + +It was an elegant afternoon,--for pneumonia,--slush and rain and ice-box +zephyrs gallopin' up and down the street. Louie didn't look as though he +was enjoyin' it any too much, for all his furs. I was just turnin' up my +collar for a dash across the sidewalk and back, when out comes Lady +Mildred in a raincoat that was a dream and carryin' a silver-handled +umbrella such as you don't find on the bargain counters. And then I +gets my funny thought. + +"Carriage for you, miss," says I, grabbin' the rain tent and hoistin' +it. "Right this way, miss." + +Say, she's a dead game sport, Mildred is. Never stopped to ask any fool +questions; but prances right out to the car, just as though she'd +expected it to be there. + +"Take the lady home, and be back after Mr. Robert in half an hour, +Louie," says I, jerkin' open the door and handin' her in. + +It was about then that I almost had heart failure. Stowed away in the +further corner, as comf'table as if he was at the club, was Benny. I +forget what the rest of his name is; Mr. Robert never calls him anything +but Benny. They're chums from way back,--travel in the same push, live +on the same block, and has the same ideas about killin' time. But that's +as far as the twin description goes. Benny looks and acts about as much +like Mr. Robert as a cream puff looks like a ham sandwich. All Benny +ever does is put on more fat and grow more cushions on the back of his +neck. He's about five foot three, both ways, one of these rolypoly boys, +with dimples all over him, pink and white cheeks, and baby-blue eyes. +Oh, he's cute, Benny is; but the bashfullest forty-four fat that ever +carried a cane, a reg'lar Mr. Shy Ann kind of a duck. He has a lisp +when he talks too, and that makes him seem cuter'n ever. + +About twice a week he drifts up to the brass gate and says to me, "Thay, +thonny, whereth Bob?" Makes my mouth pucker up like I'd been suckin' a +lemon, just to hear him. And if he sees one of the girls lookin' +sideways at him he'll dodge behind a post. + +There he was, though, and there was Mildred pilin' in alongside of him. +She didn't give any sign of backin' out, and it was too late for me to +hedge; so I ups and does the honors. + +"Mr. Benny," says I, "Miss Morgan." + +"Oh, I--I thay," splutters Benny, makin' a move to bolt, "perhapth I'd +better----" + +"Forget it!" says I, slammin' the door. "Ding, ding, Louie! Get a move +on! If you don't fetch back here by five-thirt' you lose your job. See?" + +Frenchy didn't need any urgin', though, and he has the wheels goin' +round in no time at all. I watched the car for a couple of blocks and +didn't see anything of Benny jumpin' out of the window; so I reckons +that he's too scared to make the break. I had a picture of him, +squeezin' himself up against the side of the tonneau, lookin' at his +thumbs, and turnin' all kinds of colors. + +"If it don't give him apoplexy, maybe it'll do him good," thinks I. + +It was funny while it lasted; but when I thinks of what Mr. Robert'll +say when the tale is doped out to him. I has a chill. First off I +thought I'd go up and write out my resignation; but then I remembers how +long it is since I've had the sport of bein' fired, and I makes up my +mind to see the thing through. + +I was lookin' to be called up on the carpet first thing next mornin', +but it don't come. Mr. Robert never says a word all day long, nor the +next, and by that time the thing was gettin' on my nerves. Then Benny +bobs up, as usual. I has my eye peeled from the minute he opens the +door. He don't look warlike or anything; but you never can tell about +these fat men, so when he hits the gate I dodges behind the water +cooler. + +"Wha--w'ath the matter, thonny?" says he. + +"G'wan!" says I. + +"Ithn't Bob in?" says he. + +"Go on in and tell Mr. Robert, if you want to," says I; "but don't look +for any openin' to sit on me. No pancake act for mine!" + +He just grins at that; but goes on into the office without makin' a +single pass at me. Course, I was sure the riot act was due inside of an +hour. But never a word. Nor Mildred don't have anything to say, either. +It was like waitin' for a blast that don't go off. + +Things went on that way for a couple of weeks, and I was forgettin' +about it, when Piddie tells me one mornin' that Mildred's up and quit +and nobody knows why. About an hour after that Mr. Robert sends for me. + +"Torchy," says he, "I'm tracing out a mystery, and as you seem to know +about everything that's going on, I'm going to ask you to help me out." + +"Ah, say," says I, "w'at's the use stringin' out the agony? Benny's +squealed, ain't he?" + +"No," says Mr. Robert. "That's the point. Benny hasn't. All I've been +able to get out of him is that a short time ago he met a very charming +young woman--in my car." + +"That's right," says I. "It was me put her in." + +"Ah!" says Mr. Robert. "Now we're getting somewhere." + +"Oh, you've hit the trail," says I. + +"Well," says he, "who was she?" + +"Why," says I, "the Lady Mildred." + +"Whe-e-e-ew!" says Mr. Robert, through his front teeth. "Not the one +that spells such with a T?" + +"Ah, chee!" says I. "What's the odds how she spells, so long as she's +got Lillian Russell in the back row? I didn't know your fat friend was +in the car, anyway, and I thinks Frenchy might as well be cartin' her +home in the rain as blockin' traffic on some side street. So I just +loads her in and gives Louie the word. She never knew but what you had +sense enough to do it yourself. Course, it was a fresh play for me to +make; but I'll stand for it, and if Benny's feelin's was hurt, or yours +was, you got an elegant show to take it out on me. Come on! Get out the +can and the string!" + +But you can't hustle Mr. Robert along that way. When he gets his +programme laid out there ain't any use to try any broad jumps. He wants +to know all about Mildred, who she is, where she comes from, and what's +her class. + +"You can take it from me," says I, "that she's a star. She's been up in +the top bunch too, I guess; anyone can see that. But so long as she's +jumped the job, where's the sense in lookin' up her pedigree now?" + +"Well," says Mr. Robert, "I am still more or less interested. You see, +she and Benny are to be married next month." + +"Honest?" says I. + +"I have it from Benny himself," says he. + +"Did Benny tell you how he worked up the nerve to make such a swift job +of it?" says I. + +He hadn't. Near as I could make out, Benny hadn't told much of anything. + +"Well," says I, "he's picked a winner, ain't he?" + +"That," says Mr. Robert, "is something I mean to find out." + +And say, if you ever see that jaw of Mr. Robert's, you'll know he did. +And she wa'n't an Astor or a Gould in disguise. She was just plain Miss +Morgan, that had come on with her mother from Kansas City, or Omaha, or +somewhere out there; put in six or eight months in a swell dressmaker's +shop; learned how to make herself the kind of clothes that look like +ready money; shuffled off her corn-belt accent; and then broke into the +typewritin' game while she waited for somethin' better to turn up. + +"And Benny was it, wa'n't he?" says I to Mr. Robert. + +"With your help, Torchy," says he, "it appears that he was." + +"Well," says I, "he needed the push, all right, didn't he!" + +Fired? Me? Ah, quit your kiddin'! Why, they're tickled to death now, all +of 'em. They're beginnin' to find out that Mildred's quite a girl, even +if she ain't got a lot of fat-wad folks back of her. + +And say, w'atcher think! Benny comes around here the other day wearin' a +broad grin, lugs me out to his tailor's to have me taped for a whole +outfit of glad rags, and says I've got to be one of the ushers at the +weddin'. Wouldn't that sting you? + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +SHUNTING BROTHER BILL + + +Don't talk to me about weddin's! Sure, I've been mixed up in one. Maybe +there was orange blossoms and so on; but all that's handed me is a bunch +of lemon buds. Not that I'm carryin' any grouch. I might have known +better'n to butt into any such doin's. Long as I stick to bein' head +office boy, I knows who's what, and what's which, and anyone that thinks +they can give me the double cross is welcome to a try; but when it comes +to sittin' in at a wilt-thou fest I'm a reg'lar Cousin Zeke from the +red-mitten belt. + +Maybe I wouldn't have done so bad, though, if it hadn't been for Aunt +Laura. And say, mark it up on the bulletin right here, she ain't my +aunt! She's Benny's. I was tellin' you how I loaded Mildred, our lady +typewriter that was, into Mr. Robert's car alongside of Bashful Benny, +and what came of it, wa'n't I! And how Benny's so grateful that he says +I've got to be one of the ushers? + +Well, it was all goin' lovely, and the gen'ral office force has chipped +in and bought 'em a swell weddin' present, and Benny's tailor has built +me a pair of striped pants and a John Drew coat, and Mr. Mallory's been +coachin' me how to act when I chase the folks into their seats, and +Piddie's been loadin' me up with polite conversation to fire off +whenever I gets a show, and everything's as gay around the shop as +though the directors had voted an extra dividend--when I'm stacked up +against Aunt Laura and it begins to cloud in the west. + +Aunt Laura is all Benny can show up for a fam'ly, and after you got to +know her you couldn't blame him for wantin' to start in on a new deal. +She's one of them narrow-eyed old girls that can look through a keyhole +without turnin' her head, and can dig up more suspicions in a minute +than most folks would in a month. I'll bet if the angel Gabriel should +show up and send in his card she'd make him prove who he was by playin' +the horn. + +It was a cinch she didn't mistake me for no angel, when Mr. Robert sends +me up there to do an errand for Benny. I wa'n't callin' for no aunts, +anyway, but just leavin' a note for Wilson--that's Benny's man--when +this sharp-nosed old party comes rubberin' into the front hall. + +"Marie," says she to the girl, "what boy is this? Where did he come +from? Who does he want to see? Don't you dare leave him alone for a +minute!" + +That last touch gets me in the short ribs. "Ah, say," says I, "do I look +like a hallrack artist?" + +"That'll do, young man!" says she. "You may not be as bad as you look; +but I have my doubts." + +"Same to you, ma'am, and many of 'em," says I. + +"Mercy!" says she. "What impertinence!" + + +"Please, ma'am," says the girl, "Mr. Ellins sent him up, and I----" + +"Oh!" says the old one. Then she gives me another look. "Boy," says she, +"what's your name!" + +"Torehy," says I. "Ain't it a snug fit?" + +"Oh!" says she again, and with the soft pedal on. "You're Torchy, are +you?" + +"There ain't any gettin' away from a name like that," says I. + +"Why," says she, doin' her best to call up a smile, "what a bright young +man you are!" + +"Specially on top," says I, throwin' a wink at Marie. + +"Ye-es," says Aunt Laura, "I always did think that copper-red shade of +hair was real pretty. Come right in, Torchy, while Marie gets you some +cake and a cup of tea." + +"I ain't turnin' the shoulder to any cake," says I; "but you can cut out +the tea." + +Well, say, inside of three minutes from the start I'm planted comf'table +in one of the libr'y chairs, eatin' frosted cake with both hands, while +Marie's off hustlin' up lemonade and fancy crackers. + +Course, it was somethin' of a shock, such a quick shift as that. I ain't +got a glimmer as to what Aunt Laura's end of the game was; but so long +as the home-made pastry holds out I was as good as nailed to the spot. +She seems to get a heap of satisfaction watchin' me eat, almost as much +as though she was feedin' ground glass to her best enemy. You've seen +that kind, that you can stand well enough until they begin to grin at +you. Aunt Laura's bluff at smilin' was enough to make a cat get its back +up, and you could tell she didn't really mean it, as well as if she'd +said, "Now I'm goin' to give you an imitation of somebody that's +pleased." + +And all the time she was dealin' out a line of talk that was as smooth +as wet asphalt. Most of it was hot air that she said Benny'd been givin' +to her about me, and how sweet Mildred thought I was. + +That should have been my cue; but I was too busy with the cake. + +"Miss Morgan is such a dear girl, isn't she?" says Aunt Laura. + +"Uh-huh," says I, pokin' in some frostin' that had lodged on the +outside. + +"You are quite well acquainted with her, aren't you?" says she. + +"Um-m-m-m," says I. + +"Let's see," goes on Aunt Laura, "what is it she did at the office!" + +"Chickety-click, ding-g-g!" says I, makin' motions with my fingers. + +"Oh, typewriting!" says she. "But I suppose she was very skillful at +it?" + +"Oh, she was a bird!" says I. + +See what was happenin'? I was bein' pumped. It was more'n that too. +Everything I knew about Mildred, and a lot I guessed at, was emptied out +of me like she was usin' one of these vacuum cleaners on my head. When I +gets to telling about the place out West where Mildred lived before she +and her maw hit New York, Aunt Laura jumps up. + +"Oh, I know some people who lived there once," says she. "I wonder if +any of them knew Miss Morgan?" + +With that she picks up the desk 'phone and gives a call. Did they know +any Miss Morgans out there? Yes, Mildred Morgan. Really! A brother too? +How interesting! Who was he, and what was he doing last? What! In the +State penitentiary! That was enough for Aunt Laura. She hangs up the +receiver and says to me: + +"Boy, when you get back to the office tell Mr. Robert I want to see him. +Come, you'd better be going now." + +It was a case of "Here's your hat--what's your hurry!" + +"Say," says I, "don't you go to swallowin' any tale about the Lady +Mildred havin' a brother that's a crook. There's lots of Morgans besides +her and J. P." + +But all Aunt Laura does is hold the door open for me; so I beats it, +feelin' about as chipper as though I'd been turnin' State's evidence. +The more I thinks of it, the cheaper I feels. Here I'd been playin' +myself for Mr. Foxy Cute, and had let an old lemon squeezer like Aunt +Laura wring me dry! + +Just what she's got up her sleeve about the penitentiary business, I +didn't know; but I wa'n't long in findin' out. Next day there was all +kinds of a row. Aunt Laura has looked up the invitation list for the +weddin', and, sure enough, among the also rans was a Mr. William Morgan, +with a State penitentiary address. With that, and what she'd heard over +the 'phone, Aunt Laura makes out a strong case. Was she goin' to stand +by and see her only nephew marry into a family of jailbirds? Not if she +could help it! So she calls in Mr. Robert and puts the layout before +him. + +It looks like a bad mess, with Mildred on the toboggan; for Mr. Robert +has said he'd see what could be done. He don't promise anything; but +Benny's always been such a willin' performer that he guesses maybe he +can talk him out of wantin' to get married. He didn't know Benny, +though. These short, fat, dimpled boys are just the ones to fool you, +and when it came to tellin' Benny about Brother Bill, that was doin' +time, Benny works his lips at high speed sayin' that he don't believe +it. + +"Anyway," says Benny, "it ithn't Bill I'm marrying. I don't give a cuth +for him. I'd juth ath thoon marry Mildred if her whole doothed family +wath in jail." + +"That settles it, Benny," says Mr. Robert. "If that's the way you feel. +I'll stand by you." + +Maybe Aunt Laura wa'n't wild, though, when she finds she can't block the +game. I was handlin' the office switchboard the afternoon she calls Mr. +Robert up to give him the rake-over, and the old girl warms up the wires +until she near has the lightnin' arresters out of business. It comes out +too that she's sore on Benny's bein' married because she sees the finish +of her steady job as boss of the house on the avenue. She can't queer +Mr. Robert though. + +"Benny seems to have a clear idea as to just whom he wants to marry," +says he, "and that's enough for me. If Miss Morgan has a brother in the +penitentiary, and Benny doesn't mind, I'm sure I don't. I've known lots +of fellows who wished their brothers-in-law were in the same place. +Anyway, he'll not trouble us by showing up at the wedding, even if she +did send him an invitation." + +That's the kind of a sport Mr. Robert is. He's dead game, and when +you've got him for a friend you'll know who to send for if you should +ever get run in. So we goes along gettin' ready for the weddin' same's +if nothin's happened. It's billed for a church hitch; but there ain't +been any advertisin' done, so they don't expect any crowd. Look when +they has it too--right at lunch time! + +"Chee!" says I to Mr. Robert, who's running the thing, "you must be +playin' for a frost. Now if you'd hire one of them Third-ave. halls and +band, you might give 'em somethin' of a send-off; but it'll be hard to +tell this racket from one of these noonday prayin' bees they has down in +the wholesale crock'ry district." + +Mr. Robert says that Benny bein' so bashful, and Mildred not knowin' +many folks on East, they wanted to make it as quiet as they could. + +"It'll have a pantomime show beat to death on quiet," says I. "Put me on +the door, will you, so's I can keep awake joshin' the sidewalk cop?" + +Mr. Robert says he thinks that'll be a good place for me, as they ain't +goin' to let anyone in without a ticket and I'm used to shuntin' cranks. +But say, I'm so rattled when I get inside of that suit they sent around +for me to wear that I don't know whether I'm goin' up or comin' down. +Honest, that coat made me feel like I was wearin' a dress. I didn't mind +the striped pants,--they was all to the good,--but them skirts flappin' +around my knees was the limit. + +Think I had the face to spring that outfit on the folks at the boardin' +house? Never in a year! Why, some of them Lizzie girls rangin' the block +would have guyed me out of the borough. I just folds the thing inside +out over my arm, like it was some one's overcoat I was takin' around to +have a button shifted, and when I gets to the church I slides up into +the gallery and makes a quick change. Mr. Robert looks me over and says +no one would guess it was me. + +"I'm hopin' they don't," says I. + +But as soon as the carriages begun comin' and I gets busy callin' for +the seat checks, I forgets how I looks and stops huntin' for some place +to stow my hands. It was a cinch job. There was only a few lady butt-ins +that had strayed over from the shoppin' district and smelled out a free +show. + +"We're intimate friends of the bride," says a pair of 'em; "but we've +forgotten our tickets." + +"That's good, but musty. Butt out, please," says I. + +Chee! but I ain't used up so much politeness since I can remember! It +was wearin' them clothes did it, I guess. + +Well, I was gettin' to feel real gay, for most everyone that was due was +inside, and I hadn't made any breaks to speak of, and it was near time +for the Lady Mildred to be floatin' in, when I pipes off a tall, +husky-lookin' gent, with a funny black lid and an umbrella tucked under +one arm, gawpin' up at the sign on the church. + +"Tourist from Punk Hollow lookin' for the Flatiron Buildin'," says I to +myself; but the next minute he comes meanderin' up the steps, fishin' a +card out of his pocket. You can bet I plants myself in the door and +calls for credentials! + +But, say, he had the goods. There was the ticket, all right, with the +name wrote on it, and it didn't need but one squint at the pasteboard +for me to break into a cold sweat. It wa'n't anybody else but Mr. +William Morgan! + +"Say," says I, as hoarse as a huckster, "are you Brother Bill?" + +"Why," says he, kind of surprised, but not half so stunned as I thought +he'd be,--"why, I suppose I am." + +You wouldn't have guessed it. Not that he didn't look the brother part; +for he did. He went Mildred two or three inches better in height, and he +had snappy black eyes and black hair like hers. The points that goes +with a striped suit and the lock step was missin', though. But how you +goin' to tell, in these times when our toniest fatwads is sittin' around +the mahogany votin' to raise the price of chewin' gum to-day, and +gettin' a free haircut to-morrow? There wa'n't any time for me to stand +there guessin' whether he'd been pardoned, or had slid down the rain +pipe. Somethin' had to be done, and done quick. + +"Dodge in here and wait a minute," says I. "There's some word been left +for you." + +With that I sneaks down the side aisle and into the little cloakroom, +where Mr. Robert was keepin' Benny's mind off'n what was comin' to him +by makin' him count the geranium leaves in the carpet. + +"Mr. Robert," says I, luggin' him off to one side, "you want to give up +predictin' the future. Bill's come!" + +"What Bill?" says he. + +"The one from the rock pile, Brother Bill," says I. + +"That's lovely!" says he. + +"It's all of that," says I. + +"I hope he's not wearing his uniform still," says Mr. Robert. + +"Not on the outside," says I. "He looks like he'd pinched a minister's +Monday suit somewhere. But it ain't the way he looks that's worryin' me; +it's what he's liable to do any minute to put the show on the blink." + +"That's so, Torchy," says he. "Can't we get him out of the way somehow?" + +"It's a tough proposition," says I; "but if you'll put on a sub for me +at the door, and give me leave to make any play that I happens to think +of, I'll tackle it." + +"Good!" says Mr. Robert. "And I'll make it worth a hundred to you to +keep him away from here until it's all over." + +"I'm on the job," says I. + +As I skips back I grabs my hat out from under a rear seat and makes +straight for Brother Bill. "Come on," says I. "She's waitin' for you +now. We've got just half an hour to do it in." + +Bill, he looks sort of jarred and reluctant; but I has him by the arm +and is chasin' him down the steps before he can ask any dippy questions. +First off I thought of runnin' him up the avenue until he's clean +winded; but I see by the way he strikes out that it would take more +lungs than I've got to do that. + +There was a lot of weddin' cabs and such waitin' round the corner, +though; so I steers him into the first one that has the apron up, jumps +in after him, shoves up the door in the roof, and sings out: + +"Beat it! This ain't any dream carnival you're hired for!" + +"What number?" says the bone thumper. + +For about two shakes I was up against it, and then the only place I +could think of was Benny's house; so I give him that, and off we goes. + +"But I say, young man," says Brother Bill, "I came on to go to the +wedding." + +"Sure," says I; "that'll be all right too. Didn't I tell you there was +some word left for you?" + +"Yes," says he, "I believe you did. Also you said something about her +waiting----" + +"Right again," says I. "She'll be tickled to death to see you too." + +"Yes; but the wedding?" says he. + +"That'll be there when we get back--maybe," says I. "You came on kind +of unexpected, eh?" + +"Yes," says he. "I didn't think I could get away at first; but I managed +it." + +"How'd you get out?" says I. "Was it a clean quit, or a little +vacation?" + +"Why--er--why," says he,--"yes, it was a--er--little vacation, as you +say." + +"Chee!" thinks I. "The nerve of him! Wonder if he sawed the bars, or +sneaked out in a packin' case?" But, say, I couldn't put it to him +straight. When I gets these bashful fits on I ain't any use. + +"How long you been in?" says I. + +"In?" says he. "Oh, I see! About five years." + +"Honest?" says I. + +Then I had another modest spell that won't let me ask him whether he'd +been put away for givin' rebates, or grabbin' for graft. I knew it must +have been somethin' respectable like that. Anyone could see he wa'n't +one of your strong arms or till friskers. + +I was just wishin' I knew how to work the force pump like Aunt Laura, +when we pulls up at the horse block, and it was up to me to think of +some new move. + +"She's here, is she?" says Mr. William. + +"You bet!" says I, wondering who he thought I meant. And then I gets +that funny feelin' I gen'rally has when I takes the high jump. "Come +on," says I. "We'll give her a surprise." + +It wa'n't anything else. I knew she'd be to home, 'cause I'd heard she +was too grouchy to go to the weddin' or have anything to do with it; so +when Marie let us in I throws a tall bluff and says for her to tell Aunt +Laura I've brought some one she wants to see very partic'lar. + +"Why," says Mr. Morgan, "there's been some mistake, hasn't there! I know +no such person. Why should she wish to see me?" + +"Sh-h-h-h!" says I. "Maybe she'll feed you frosted cake. It's one of her +tricks." + +She didn't, though. She looked about as smilin' as a dill pickle when +she showed up, and she opened the ball by askin' what I meant, bringin' +strangers there. + +"Well," says I, "you've been askin' a lot about him lately; so I thought +I'd lug him around. This is Brother Bill." + +"What!" says she, squealin' it out like I'd said the house was afire. +"Not the brother of that--that Morgan girl?" + +"Ask him," says I. "You're a star at that." + +Then I takes a peek at Bill. And say, I was almost sorry I'd done it. +For a party that'd just broke jail, he could stand the least I ever +saw. He looks as mixed up and helpless as a lady that's took a seat in +the smokin' car by mistake. I'd have helped him out then if I could have +thought how. It was too late, though, and Aunt Laura was no quitter. + +"How long is it," says she, jerkin' her head back and throwin' a look +out of her narrow eyes that must have gone clear through him, "since you +got out of the State penitentiary?" + +"Why--why--er--er----" begins Brother Bill. + +Then he has the biggest stroke of luck that ever came his way; for Marie +pushes in with the silver plate and a card on it. + +"Thank goodness!" says Aunt Laura, lookin' at the card. "The very person +I need! Ask Dr. Wackhorn to step in here." + +I thought he must be a germ chaser; but it was just a minister, a solid, +prosperous lookin' old gent, with white billboards and a meat safe on +him like a ten-dollar Teddy bear. He looks at Brother Bill, and Bill +looks at him. + +"Why, my dear William!" sings out the Doc, rushin' over with the glad +hand out. + +In two minutes it's all over. Dr. Wackhorn has introduced Bill as his +ex-assistant, who's gone West and got himself a job as chaplain in a +State prison, and Aunt Laura loses her breath tryin' to apologize to +both of 'em at once. Think of that! We'd been playin' him for all kinds +of a crook, and here he was a sure enough minister! + +Well, I gets him back to the church just in time for the last curtain, +so he can see what a stunner Mildred was in her canopy-top outfit. He's +all right, Brother Bill is. Never gives me any call-down for shuntin' +him off the way I did and makin' him miss most of the show. As I says to +him afterward: + +"Bill," says I, "that was one on me. But we did throw the hook into Aunt +Laura some! What?" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +KEEPING TABS ON PIDDIE + + +Say, I thought I knew Piddie. If anybody'd asked me to pick a party for +the Honest John act from among the crowd we got around the Corrugated +Trust here, I'd made J. Hemmingway Piddie my one best bet. He's been +with the concern ever since Old Hickory Ellins flim-flammed his partners +out of their share of the business and took out a New Jersey chartered +permit that allowed him to practice grand larceny. + +If Piddie hadn't been a pinhead, he'd had his name on the board of +directors years ago. But there ain't no use tryin' to make parlor +comp'ny out of kitchen help; so Piddie's just trailed along, bein' as +useful as he knew how, and workin' up from ten a week to one fifty a +month, just as satisfied as if he was gettin' his per cent. of the +profits. + +What he does around the shop wouldn't turn anyone gray-headed; but he +makes the most of it. He swells up more over orderin' a few office +supplies than Mr. Robert would about signin' a million-dollar contract, +and the way he keeps watch of the towels and soap and spring water you'd +think our stock was fallin' below par, 'stead of payin' nine per cent, +on common. Gen'rally Piddie don't handle anything but petty cash; but +once in awhile, when no one else is handy, they chuck something big his +way, and he never lets up until everyone knows all about it. You can +tell how chesty he feels, just by his strut. + +Well, there'd been a big rush on, and they was usin' Piddie more or less +frequent, so I was gettin' used to his makin' a noise like a balloon, +when one mornin' he come turkeyin' out to the brass gate and says to me: + +"Torchy, call up 0079 Broad and get the opening on Blitzen." + +"Sure," says I. "And if it touches seven-eighths don't you want to +unload a couple of thousand shares?" + +"When I have any further orders," says he, puffin' out his face, "you +will get them!" + +"Oh, slush!" says I. "Don't play so rough, Piddie." + +I was onto him, all right. I've seen these hot-air plungers before. They +follow up a stock for weeks, and buy and sell in six figures, and reckon +up how they've hit the market for great chunks--but it's all under their +lids. You can't spend pipe dreams, if you win; and if you lose, it +don't shrink the size of your really truly roll. It's almost as +satisfyin' as walkin by the back door of a bakery when you're hungry. +That kind of game is about Piddie's size, too. All it calls for is +plenty of imagination, and he's got that by the bale. I was kind of glad +to see him enjoyin' himself so innocent, and now and then I'd help along +the excitement. + +"Heard about how Morgan's tryin' to get hold of Blitzen?" I'd say, and +Piddie would prick up his ears like a fox-terrier sightin' a rat. + +"Who told you?" Piddie'd ask. + +"Why," I'd say, "I got it straight from a delicatessen man that lives on +the same block with a man that runs a hot dog cart in John-st. Don't +want anything closer'n that, do you!" + +Then Piddie'd look kind of foolish, and go off and call down some one +good and hard, just to relieve his feelin's. + +First thing I knew, though, Piddie was havin' star-chamber sessions with +a seedy-lookin' piker that wore an actor's overcoat and a brunette +collar that looked like it had been wished onto his neck about last +Thanksgivin'. They'd get together in a corner of the reception room and +whisper away for half an hour on a stretch. If it hadn't been Piddie, +I'd put it down for a hard-luck tale with a swift touch for a curtain; +but no one that ever took a second look at Piddie would ever waste +their time tryin' a touch on him. So I guessed the gent was a bucketshop +tout who was tryin' to interest Piddie in some kind of a deal. + +Still, I couldn't get any picture of Piddie takin' a chance with real +money. It wa'n't until I seen him walkin' around stary-eyed one day, and +gettin' nervous by the minute, that I could believe he's really been +rung in. He was goin' through all the motions, though, of a man that's +shoved everything, win or lose, on the red, and it was a circus to keep +tabs on him. He makes a bluff at bein' awful busy with the billbook; but +he couldn't stay at the desk more'n three minutes at a spell. Inside of +an hour I counted four times that he washed his hands and six drinks of +water that he had. + +"You'll be damp enough to need wringin' out, if you keep that up," says +I. + +"Keep what up?" says he. Honest, he was so rattled he didn't know +whether he was usin' the roller towel or runnin' over the ticker tape. +Half an hour before lunchtime he skips out and leaves word with me that +maybe he'll be back late. + +"All right," says I. "If the boss calls for you I'll tell him he'll have +to shut down the shop until you blow in again." + +Maybe you've seen symptoms like that in a hired man. It gen'rally means +that there's somethin' doin' in ponies or margins, and that next payday +is goin' to seem a long ways off. If I'd been asked to give a guess, I +should have put it as about two hundred bucks that Piddie had thrown +into the market. Anyway, it wa'n't enough to knock the props out of +call-money quotations; so I was lettin' Piddie do all the worryin'. + +He didn't show back at twelve-thirty, nor at twelve-forty-five. Some one +else did, though. She was a nice little lady, one of the smooth-haired, +big-eyed kind, as soft talkin' and as gentle actin' as the heroine in +"No Weddin' Cake for Her'n," just before she gets to the weepy scenes. +You could see by the punky mill'nery and the last season's drygoods that +she'd just drifted in from Mortgagehurst, New Jersey. The little snoozer +she has by the hand was a cute one, though. When he gets a glimpse of my +sunset top piece he sings out: + +"O-o-o-o, mama! Burny, burn!" + +"Why, Hemmingway!" says she. "I am surprised. Naughty, naughty!" + +"Don't worry, lady," says I. "The kid's got it dead right--it's one of +them kind." + +Then I wets my finger and shows him how it'll go "S-z-z!" when I touch +it off. That gets a laugh out of little Hemmingway, and in a minute +we're all good friends. + +She's Mrs. Piddie, of course, and she's a brick. Say, how is it these +two-by-fours can pull out such good ones so often? Why, if she'd been +got up accordin' to this year's models, and could have thrown the front +she ought to, she'd have been fit for a first-tier box at the grand +op'ra. + +"Chee!" thinks I. "Did she pick Piddie in the dark?" + +She'd come in to drag him out shoppin' and hypnotize him into loosenin' +up. It was a case of gettin' things for little Hemmingway. + +"Me, I go have new s'oes, an' new coat wif pockets too," says he. + +Say, they wins me, kids like that do. There's some I ain't got any use +for, the kind brought up in hotels and boardin' houses that learn to +play to the gallery before they can feed themselves, and others I could +name; but clean, grinnin' youngsters, with big eyes that take in +everything, they're good to have around. And, little Hemmy was a star. I +got so int'rested showin' him things in the office that I clean forgot +about Piddie and what he was up to. + +"He will be back soon, won't he?" says Mrs. Piddie. + +Now if you give me time I can slick up an answer so it'll sound like the +truth and mean something else; but as an offhand liar I'm a frost. +Somehow I always has to swaller somethin' before I can push out a cold +dope. Course, I knew he'd got to be back before long; but I see right +off that this wa'n't any day for a fam'ly reunion. Piddle wa'n't goin' +to be any too sociable by dinner time that night, 'less'n he'd hit up +the bucketshop, which the chances was against. So it was my turn to make +a foxy play. + +"He's due here before long, that's a fact," says I, "but there's no +tellin'. You see, there's a big deal on, and Mr. Piddie's gone downtown, +and----" + +"Oh!" says Mrs. Piddle, her eyes shinin'. "Then he has some important +business engagement?" + +You couldn't help seein' how she had it framed up,--the whole Corrugated +Trust and half of Wall Street holdin' its breath while hubby, J. +Hemmingway Piddie, Esq., worked his giant intellect for the good of the +country. + +"That's it," says I. "I couldn't say pos'tive that he'd be as late as +four o'clock; but----" + +"Oh! then we'll not wait," says she, "Come, Hemmingway, we must go +home." + +"Don't I det my new s'oes?" says Hemmy. + +There was a proposition for you! The kid was runnin' true to form and +stickin' to the main line. No side issues for him! Pop might be a big +man, and all that; but his size didn't cut much ice alongside of the +new-shoes prospect. Things was beginnin' to look squally, and Mrs. +Piddie's mouth corners was saggin' some, when I has a thought. + +"Hold on," says I. "Maybe he's left a note or something for you." + +See what it is to have a little wad stowed away in the southwest corner +of your jeans? I slips through into the main office, gets one of the +typewriter girls to address an envelope to Mrs. Piddie, jams a sawbuck +into it, and comes out smilin'. + +"Maybe this'll do as well as Pop himself," says I. "Feels like it had +long green in it," and the last I heard of little Hemmy he was tellin' +the elevator man about the "new s'oes" that was comin' to him. + +"It's a fool way to lend out coin," thinks I; "but what's the diff? That +kid's got his hopes set on bein' shod to-day, and Piddie's bound to make +good sometime." + +Piddie didn't look it, though, when he drifts in about one-thirty. If +he'd had a load on his mind earlier in the day, he'd got somethin' more +now. Just sittin' at the desk doin' nothin made the dew come out on his +noble brow like it was the middle of August. He was too much of a wreck +to stand any joshin'; so I let him alone, not even tellin' him about the +fam'ly visit. + +The first thing I knows he comes over to me, his jaw set firmer'n I +ever see it shut before, and a kind of shifty look in his eyes. He hands +me a letter and a package. + +"Torchy," says he, "take these down to that address just as soon as you +can. You've got to go quick. Understand?" + +"Fourth speed, advanced spark, that's me!" says I, grabbin' my hat and +coat. "Free track for the Piddie special! Honk, honk!" and I jams him up +against the letterpress as I makes a rush for the door. + +When I gets into the subway I sizes up the stuff I'm carryin'. Well say, +it ain't often I gets real curious; but this was one of them times. I +started in by rollin' a pencil under the envelope flap while the gum was +moist. Not that I'd made up my mind to rubber; but just so's I could if +I took the notion. And, sure enough, I got the notion, or it got me. + +Chee! I near slid off the rattan seat when I reads that note. Guess I +must have sat there, starin' bug-eyed and lookin' batty, from 14th to +Wall. Do you know what that mush-head of a Piddie was at? He was givin' +an order to bolster up Blitzen by buyin' up to a hundred thousand +shares, and in the package was a bunch of gilt-edged securities to cover +the margins. + +Now wouldn't that jiggle the grapes on sister's new lid? Piddie, a +narrow-gauge, dime-pinchin' ink-slinger, doin' the bull act like he was +a sooty plute from Pittsburg! That's what comes of swallowin' the +get-rich-fast bug. + +Well, when I gets out at the Street I didn't have any programme planned. +First I strolls down to the number on the letter and takes a look at the +buildin'. That was enough. There was some good names on the hall +directory; but most of 'em was little, two-room, fly-by-night firms, +with a party 'phone for a private wire and a mail-order list bought +off'm patent medicine concerns. The people Piddie was doin' business +with was that kind. + +Next I takes a walk around into Broad-st., where the mounted cops keep +the big-wind bunch roped in so's they can't break loose and pinch the +doorknobs off the Subtreasury. The ear-muff brigade was lettin' +themselves out in fine style, tradin' in Ground Hog bonds, Hoboken gas, +Moonshine preferred, and a whole lot of other ten-cent shares, as +earnest as if they was under cover and biddin' on Standard Oil firsts. + +While I was lookin' 'em over, wonderin' what to do next, I spots Abey +Winowski on the fringe of the push. And say, it wa'n't so long ago that +Abey was wearin' sky-blue pants and a Postal shield, trottin' out with +messages from District Ten. But here he is, with a checked ulster and a +five-dollar hat, writin' figures on a pad. + +"Hello, Motzie!" says I. "How long since they lets the likes of you +inside the ropes?" + +"Hello, Torchy!" says he. "Got any orders?" + +"I'm lined with 'em," says I. "What's good?" + +"Blitzen," says he. "It's on the seesaw; but'll fetch fifty." + +"Ain't it a wildcat?" says I. + +"Just from the menagerie," says he. "Goin' to take a dollar flyer?" + +"Guess I'll see what my brokers has to say first," says I. + +With that I goes around to a little joint I knows of, where they has a +board for unlisted stocks, and I sets back and watches the curves +Blitzen was makin'. First she'd jump four or five points, and then she'd +settle back heavy. The Curb was playin' tag with it; that was all, so +far as I could see. Nice lot of Hungry Jakes to feed with +int'rest-bearin' securities! + +About fifteen minutes before the market closed I quit and moseyed along +uptown, just killin' time and tryin' to figure out what ought to be +done. Course, I didn't have any idea of playin' private detective and +showin' Piddie up to Mr. Robert,--that's out of my line,--but I didn't +like the scheme of just chuckin' the bonds back at him and let him get +away with any bluff about my interferin' with something I didn't +understand at all. Besides, if the returns showed that he'd have won on +the deal, what was to hinder his tryin' the same trick again next time +he got the chance? That wouldn't been a fair shake for the firm. + +Say, I worked my thinker overtime that trip; but I couldn't dig up a +thing that was worth savin' from the scrap basket, and when I strolled +into the office just about closin' time I wa'n't any nearer to knowin' +what to do than when I started. + +Most everyone had left when I pushes through the gate and takes a peek +into Piddie's office. He was there. And, say, for a speakin' likeness of +a dropped egg that's hit the floor instead of the toast, he was it! He's +slumped all over the desk, with his head in his hands, and his hair all +mussed up, and his shoulders lopped. I always suspicioned he was built +out with pneumatic pads, and blew himself up in the mornin' before he +buttoned on the four-inch collar that kept his chin up; but I did'nt +guess he had a rubber backbone. It was a case of fush with Piddie. He +was all in. What I could see of his face had about as much color to it +as a sheet of blottin' paper. + +Layin' on the floor was a map of the whole disaster. It was a Wall +Street extra, with a scarehead story of how Blitzen had kept 'em +guessin' all day and then, in the last quarter of an hour of tradin', +had gone bumpin' the bumps from twenty-eight down to almost nothin' at +all. I didn't stop to read the whole thing; but I read enough to find +out that Blitzen had gone soarin' on a false alarm, and that when the +facts was give out right the balloon had took fire. And there was +Piddie, still fallin'! + +"Hello," says I. "You look like a boned ham that's in need of the acid +bath and sawdust stuffin'. What's queered you so sudden?" + +He jumps and tries to pull himself together when he first hears me; but +after he finds who it is he goes to pieces again and flops back in the +chair groanin'. + +"Is it new mown hay of the lungs, or too many griddle cakes on the +stomach?" says I. + +But he only gasps and groans some more. Maybe I should of felt sorry for +him; but, knowin' the sort of sprung kneed near crook he was, I didn't. +He was scared mostly, and he was doin' all the sympathizin' for himself +that was needed. All of a sudden he braces up and looks at his watch. + +"Perhaps you didn't get there in time?" says he. + +"With the letter and package?" says I. "Watcher take me for? Think I got +mucilage on my shoes? I was there on time, all right." + +"Oh, mercy!" says he. "Torchy, I'm a ruined man." + +"You look it," says I; "but cheer up. You never was much account anyway; +so there's no great harm done." + +Then he begins to blubber, and leak brine, and take on like a woman with +a sick headache. "It wasn't my fault," says he. "I was led into it. +Torchy, tell them I was led into it! You'll believe that, won't you?" + +"Cert," says I. "I'll make affidavit I seen 'em snap the ring in your +nose. But what's it all about?" + +"Oh, it's something awful that's happened to me," he wails. "It's too +terrible to talk about. You'll know to-morrow. I sha'n't be alive then, +Torchy." + +"Ain't swallowed a buttonhook, have you?" says I. + +Next he begins throwin' a fit about what's goin' to become of the missus +and the kid. Say, I've been in at two or three acts like this before, +and I gen'rally notice that at about such a stage they play that card, +the wife and kid. Your real tough citizen don't, nor your real +gent,--they shuts their mouths and takes what's comin' to 'em,--but Mr. +Weakback has a sudden rush of mem'ry about the folks at home, and +squeals like a pup with his tail shut in the door. + +"Ah, say," says I, "cut it out! You ought to move up to Harlem and learn +to pound the pipes. You're a healthy plunger, you are, sneakin' bonds +out of the safe to stack up against a crooked game, and then playin' the +baby act when you lose out! Come now, ain't that the awful thing that's +happened to you?" + +He couldn't have opened up freer if he'd been put through the third +degree. I gets the story of his life then, with a handkerchief +accomp'niment,--all about the house he's tryin' to buy through the +buildin' loan, and the second-hand bubble he wants to splurge on 'cause +the neighbors have got 'em, and how he was tipped off to this sure thing +in Blitzen by a party that had always been a friend of his but couldn't +get hold of the stuff to turn the trick himself. He put in all the fine +points, even to the way he came to have a chance at the safe. + +"If I could only put them back!" says he, sighin'. + +"What then?" says I. "Next time I s'pose you'd swipe the whole series, +wouldn't you?" + +If you could have heard him tell how good he'd be you'd think practicin' +a little crooked work now and then was the only sure way to learn how to +keep straight. + +"Piddie," says I, "I don't want to hurt your feelin's, but you act to me +like a weak sister. If I was to do what the case calls for, this thing +ought to go to the boss." + +"Please don't, Torchy! Please don't!" says he, scrabblin' down on his +hands and knees. + +"Nix on that!" says I. "This is no carpet-layin' bee. I'm no squealer, +anyway; besides, I had a little interview with Mrs. Piddie and the kid +this noon, and after seein' them I can't rub it in like you deserve. +What I've seen and heard I'm goin' to forget. Now sit up straight while +I break the news to you gentle. I went down there to-day, just as you +told me." + +"Yes, I know," he groans, squirmin'. + +"But I didn't like the looks of the joint; so I didn't dump the bonds. +There they are. Now see they get back where you found 'em!" + +Talk about your hallelujah praise meetin's! Piddie was havin' one, all +by himself--when the inside door opens and Mr. Roberts steps out of his +office. + +"I'll take care of those bonds, Mr. Piddie," says he. + +Chee! what a stunner! Mr. Robert had been in there all the time, writin' +private letters, and had took in the whole business. + +Did he give Piddie the fire on the spot? Nah! Mr. Robert carries around +a frigid portico; but he's got a warm spot inside. He says he's mighty +sorry to hear how near Piddie'd come to goin' wrong; but he's glad it +turned out the way it did, and if Piddie'll say how much they rung him +in for on Blitzen he'll be happy to make good right there. + +And how much do you guess? A pair of double X's! He'd worried himself +near sick, worked himself up desp'rate, and had finished by doin' +something that stood to get him put away for ten or fifteen years--all +for forty bucks! + +"Piddie," says I, "for a tinhorn, you're a wonder! But, say, when you +get home to-night tell that kid of yours I want to see them new shoes of +his before he gets the toes all stubbed out." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +A WHIRL WITH KAZEDKY + + +Chee! W'atcher think? I ain't read an "Old Sleut'" for more'n a week, +and there's two murder myst'ries runnin' in the sportin' extras that I'm +way behind on. You wouldn't guess it in a month, but I'm takin' a fall +out of the knowledge game. Mr. Mallory says I'm part in the sixt' grade +and part in the eight'. + +"I believe it," says I; "my nut feels that way." + +Honest, I'm stowin' away so much that I never knew before that I'm +thinkin' of wearin' a leather strap around my head, same's these strong +boys wears 'em on their wrists. + +"Ah! w'at's the use?" says I. "Nobody's ever goin' to ask me what's four +per cent of thoity thousand plunks, an' if I had that much I wouldn't +farm it out for less'n six, anyway. And I don't see where this De Soto +comes in. Sounds like he might have played first base for the Beanies; +but he's been dead too long for that. What odds does it make if I don't +know the capital of Nevada? I ain't lookin' for no divorce, am I?" + +But there's no shakin' Mallory off. He's dug up a lot of kid school +books for me, and I got 'em stowed away in the desk here, like this was +P. S. 46, 'stead of the front office of the Corrugated Trust. And when I +ain't takin' cards into the main squeezes, or answerin' fool questions +over the 'phone, or chasin' out on errands for Piddie, I'm swallowin' +chunks of information about the times when G. Wash. was buildin' forts +in Harlem and makin' good for a continuous in front of the Subtreasury. + +Course, it's a clean waste of time. Suppose I gets the run next week, +could I win another head office boy job by spielin' off a mess of guff +about a lot of dead ones? Nit, never! But Mallory's got the bug that +it'll all come in handy to me sometime, and I'm doin' it just to keep +him satisfied. We get together most every night in his room, and I has +to cough up what I've got next to durin' the day. And say, when I've +been soldierin', and try to run in a stiff bluff instead of the real +goods, he looks as disappointed as if I'd done something real low down. +So gen'rally I hits up the books when there's nothin' else doin'. + +Mr. Robert's on. He comes in one mornin' and pipes off the 'rithmetic. +"What's this, Torchy?" says he. "Studying?" + +"Yep," says I. "When I went through Columbia College there wa'n't +anybody there but the janitor; so I'm takin' a postprandial whirl at +this number dope, and it's fierce." + +"Whose idea?" says he. + +"Mr. Mallory's," says I. "But I've laid it out flat to him that I draws +the line at Greek. I'd never want to talk like them 23d-st. flower +peddlers, not in a thousand years!" + +Didn't tell you, did I, about Mallory's doin' the skyrocket act? After +Mr. Robert gets next to the fact that Mallory's a two seasons' old +football hero from his old college he yanks him out of that +twelve-dollar-a-week filin' job and makes him a salaried gent, inside of +two days. + +"Which is something I owe chiefly to you, Torchy," says Mallory. + +"Honk, honk!" says I. "Them's the kind of ideas that will get you run in +for reckless thinkin'. You was winnin' all that when you did that sprint +for goal your friend Dicky was tellin' about the other day. Now all you +got to do is get up on your toes and make one or two touchdowns for old +Corrugated." + +"I know," says he; "but I'm afraid that in this game I'm outclassed." + +Honest, he was scared stiff; but he didn't let anyone but me see it. +Even a little thing like goin' down to Wall Street and lookin' up some +securities gets him rattled. He hadn't been gone more'n an' hour 'fore +he calls me up on the 'phone and says some broker's clerk has asked him +if our concern don't want to bid on P. O. privileges at seven-eighths. +"What are P. O. privileges?" says Mallory. + +"Oh, tush!" says I. "And you let 'em hand you such a burry one? P. O. +privileges is the right to lick stamps at the gen'ral post-office, and +it's a gag them curb shysters has wore to a frazzle. You go back and +tell that fresh paper-chewer we're only buyin' options on July snow +removals preferred." + +That's what comes of foolin' around at college. Mallory comes back +lookin' like some one had sold him a billboard seat to a free window +show. + +But that was nothin' to the down-and-out slump I found him in next +night, when I goes around for my writin' lesson and so on. + +"Is it the _spino comeandgetus_," says I, "or has Miss Tuttifrutti +sent back your Christmas card?" + +"It's worse than either," says he, with his chin on the top button of +his vest. "I guess I'm what you would call a false alarm, Torchy. I've +been tried out and haven't made good." + +"G'wan!" says I. "Everyone gets a lemon now and then. Some tries to +swaller it whole, and chokes to death; others mixes 'em up with eggs and +things, and knocks out a pie, with meringue on top. Draw us a map of how +you fell off the scaffold." + +Well, I jollied the hard luck tale out of him. It was a case of sendin' +a boy with a pushcart to bring home a grand piano. The Old Man had done +it. He's kind of sore on the way Mr. Robert lugged Mallory in by the +hair, 'cause I heard him growlin' somethin' about makin' a kindergarten +out of the Corrugated; so he springs this on him. He calls for Mallory +and tells him there's a Russian gent down to the Waldorf that's come +over to place a big Gover'ment contract. + +"We've got to have a slice of that," says he. "Just you run down and get +it for us." Like that, offhand, as if it was somethin' you could do +anytime between lunch and one-thirty. + +Near as I could make out, Mallory goes for it in his polite, standoff, +after-you way, and the closest he gets to Russky is a minute with a +cocky secretary that says his Excellency is very sorry, but he'll be too +busy to see him this trip--maybe next time, about 1912, he'll have an +hour off. + +"And then you backs up the alley?" says I. + +"There was nothing else for me to do," says Mallory. "He went off +without giving me another chance." + +"Say," says I, "if I had all your parlor manners, I'd organize an +English holdin' comp'ny for 'em, so's not to be jacked up for bein' a +monopoly. Why didn't you give him the low tackle and sit on his head +until he promised to behave? Was that the only try you made?" + +"No, I sent up my card twice after that," says he, "and it came back. So +I've flunked. I think I'd better go down in the morning and resign." + +Now wouldn't that rust you? + +"Then here goes the books," says I, chuckin' 'em into the corner. "If +doin' the knowledge stunt leaves you with a backbone like a piece of +boiled spaghetti, I'm through." + +That makes Mallory sit up as if I'd jabbed him with a pin. "Do I seem +that way to you?" says he. + +"You don't think you're givin' any weight-liftin' exhibition, do you?" +says I. + +He lets that trickle through for a minute or so, and then he comes back +to life. "Torchy," says he, "you're right. I'm acting like a quitter. +But I don't mean to let go just yet. Hanged if I don't try to see that +man to-night, now, as quick as I can get down there! He's got to see me, +by Jove!" + +"There's more sense to that than anything else you've said in a week," +says I. "Wish I could be there to hold your hat." + +"Why not?" says he. "Come on. I may need fresh inspiration." + +"Whatever I gives you'll be fresh, all right," says I; "but if I was +you, and was goin' to butt into any Fifth-ave. hotel along about +dinner-time, I'd wear the regalia. Yours ain't in on a ticket, is it?" + +It wa'n't. Mallory had to go clear to the bottom of the trunk after it; +but when he'd shook out the wrinkles and got himself inside the view was +worth while. After he's blown up his op'ra hat and got out his stick you +couldn't tell him from a three times winner. + +"Chee!" says I. "You've got Silent Smith tied to a post. If you acts +like you look, you don't need me." + +He wouldn't have it that way, though. I'd got to go along and be ready +to give him any points I thought of. We goes in a cab, too, in over the +rubber mats to the carriage door, just like we'd come to hire the royal +suite. + +"The Baron Kazedky," says Mallory, shovin' his card across at the near +plute behind the desk. + +Then the cold wave begun comin' our way. Mister Baron was out. Nobody +knew where he'd gone. He hadn't left any word. And he didn't receive +callers after four P.M., anyway. Mallory was gettin' his breath after +stoppin' them body blows, when I pushes in. + +"Say, Sir Wally," says I, leanin' over towards the clerk and speakin' +confidential, "lemme give you somethin' from the inside. If Kazedky +misses seein' Mr. Mallory to-night, you'll be called up to-morrow to +hear some Russian language that'll take all the crimp out of that Robert +Mantell bang of yours. Now ring up one of them bench-warmers and show us +the Baron!" + +But, say, you might's well try bluffin' your way through the fire lines +on a brass trunk check, "You'll find the manager's office two doors to +the left, gentlemen," says he. + +"Much obliged for nothin'," says I. + +Course, there wa'n't any use registerin' a kick. Orders is orders, and +we was on the wrong side of the fence. Mallory and I takes a turn +through the corridors and past the main dinin'-room, where they keeps an +orchestra playin' so's the got-rich-quick folks won't hear each other +eat their soup. + +We was tryin' to think up a new move. I was for goin' out somewhere and +callin' for the Baron over the 'phone; but Mallory's got his jaw set now +and says he don't mean to leave until he has some kind of satisfaction. +He's kind of slow takin' hold; but when he gets his teeth in he's a +stayer. + +We knocks around half an hour, and nothin' happens. Then, just as we was +pushin' through the mob into the Palm Room I runs into Whitey Buck. You +know about Whitey, don't you? Well, you've seen his name printed across +the top of the sportin' page that he runs. And say, Whitey's the smooth +boy, all right! Him and me used to do some great old joshin' when I was +on the Sunday editor's door. + +"Hello, Whitey!" says I. "Who you been workin' for a swell feed now?" + +"That you, Torchy?" says he. "Why, I took your head for an exit light. +How's tricks?" + +"On the blink," says I. "We're up against a freeze out, Mr. Mallory and +me. You know Mallory, don't you?" + +"What, Skid Mallory?" says he, takin' another look. "What a pipe! Why, +say, old man, I want you the worst way. Got to hash up a full-page +sympose knockin' reformed football, and if you'll take off a +thousand-word opinion I'll blow you to anything on the bill of fare. +Come on in here to a table while we chew it over. Torchy, grab a garçon. +Sizzlin' sisters! but I'm glad to root you out, Skid!" + +He was all of that; but it didn't mean anything more'n that Whitey sees +an easy column comin' his way. + +Mr. Mallory wa'n't so glad. "Sorry," says he, "but whatever football +reputation I ever had I'm trying to live down." + +"What!" says Whitey. "Trying to make folks forget the nerviest +quarterback that ever pranced down the turf with eleven men after him? +Don't you do it. Besides, you can't. Why, that run of yours through the +Reds has been immortalized in a whole library of kid story books, and +they're still grinding 'em out!" + +Mallory turns the color of the candleshades and shakes his head. "You +print any such rot as that about me," says he, "and I'll come down and +wreck the office. I'm out of all that now, and into something that has +opened my eyes to what sort of useless individual I am. Behold, Whitey, +one of the unfit!" + +Then Whitey wants to know all about it. + +"It's nothing much," says Mallory, "only I've been sent out to do +business with a Russian Baron, and I'm such a chump I can't even get +within speaking distance of him." + +"What Baron?" says Whitey. "Not Kazedky?" + +"That's the identical one," says Mallory. "Don't happen to know him, do +you?" + +"I sure do," says Whitey. "Didn't he and I have a heart to heart session +when that sporty Russian Prince was over here and got himself pinched at +a prizefight? Kazedky was secretary of the legation then, and it was +through me he got the story muffled." + +"Wish you could find out where he is now," says Mallory. + +"Don't have to," says Whitey; "I know. He's up in private dining-room +No. 9. Been captured by a gang of Chamber of Commerce men, who are +feeding him ruddy duck and terrapin and ten-dollar champagne. He's got a +lot of steel contracts up his sleeve, you know, and----" + +"Yes, I know," says Mallory; "but how can I get to see him?" + +"Who are you with?" says Whitey. + +"Corrugated Trust," says Mallory. + +"Wow!" says Whitey, them skim-milk eyes of his gettin' big. "They +wouldn't let you within a mile of him if they knew. But say, suppose I +could lug him outside, would I get that football story?" + +"You would," says Mallory. + +"By to-morrow noon?" says he. + +"Before morning, if you'll stay at the office until I get through here," +says Mallory. + +"Good!" says Whitey. "Come on! I'll snake him out of there if I have to +drag him by the collar. But he's a fussy old freak, and I don't +guarantee he'll stay more than a minute." + +"That's enough," says Mallory. "He can talk French, I suppose?" + +"What's the matter with English?" says Whitey. "Now let's see what kind +of hot air I'll give him." + +Whitey didn't say what it was he thinks up; but he was grinnin' all +over his face when he leaves us outside of No. 9 and goes in where the +corks was poppin'. It must have been a happy thought, though; for it +wa'n't long before he comes out, towin' a dried-up little old runt with +a full set of face lambrequins and a gold dog license hung round his +neck from a red ribbon. He had his napkin in one hand and half a dinner +roll in the other; so it didn't look like he meant to make any long +stop. He was actin' kind of dazed, too, like he hadn't got somethin' +clear in his mind, and he hung back as if he was expectin' some one to +hand out a bomb. But Whitey rushes him right up to Mallory. + +"Here's the chap, Baron!" says he. "I couldn't let you go back to Russia +without shaking hands with the greatest quarterback America ever +produced. Mr. Mallory, Baron Kazedky," and then he winks at Mallory, +much as to say, "Now jump in!" + +And say, Mallory was Johnny on the spot. He grabs Kazedky's flipper like +it was a life preserver. + +"I--I--really, gentlemen, there's some mistake," says the Baron. "A +quarter what, did you say?" + +"Oh," says Mallory, "that's some of Mr. Buck's tomfoolery--football +term, you know." + +"But I am not interested in football," says the Baron, tryin' to back +towards the door, "not in the least." + +"Me either," says Mallory, gettin' a new grip on him. "What I want to +talk to you about is steel. Now, I represent the Corrugated Trust, and +we----" + +Well say, the old man himself couldn't have reeled it off better'n +Mallory. Why, he had it as letter perfect as a panhandler does his tale +about bein' in the hospital six weeks and havin' four hungry kids at +home. I only hears the start of it; for as soon as he got well under way +Mallory starts for the other end of the corridor, skatin' the little old +Baron along with him like he was a Third-ave. clothing store dummy that +was bein' hauled in at closin'-up time. + +Whitey didn't even wait for the overture. The minute he hands Kazedky +over he fades towards the elevator. There's nothin' for me to do but +wait; so I picks out a red velvet chair and camps down on it to watch +the promenade. That's what it was, too; for Mallory acts like he'd +forgot everything he ever knew except that he's got to talk steel into +the Baron. I guess it was steel he was talkin'! Every time he passes me +I hear him ringin' in Corrugated, and drop forged, and a lot of things +like that. + +Mallory has a right-arm hook on Kazedky and is makin' motions with his +left hand. Bein' so tall, he has to lean over to pump his speech into +the old fellow's ear; but every now and then he gets excited and, 'stead +of bendin' himself, he lifts the Baron clear off his feet. + +About the third lap some of the gents from the private dinin'-room pokes +their heads out to see what's happened to the guest of the evenin'. They +saw, all right! They must have been suspicious, too; for they were +lookin' anxious, and begun signaling him to break away. + +The Baron didn't have no time for watchin' signals just then. He was +busy tryin' to keep his feet on the floor. First I knew there was a +whole gang at the door watchin' 'em, and they was talkin' over makin' a +rush for the Baron and rescuin' him, I guess, when Mallory leans him up +against the wall, hauls out a pad and a fountain pen, and hands the +things to Kazedky. The Baron drapes bis napkin over one arm, stuffs the +piece of roll into his mouth, and scribbles off somethin'. + +When he's done that Mallory pockets the pad, leads the Baron back to his +friends, shakes hands with him, motions to me, and pikes for the +elevator. The last glimpse I has of Kazedky, he's bein' pulled into the +private dinin'-room, with that half a roll stickin' out of his face like +a bung in a beer keg. + +"Well, Torchy," says Mallory to me, as the car starts down, "I got it!" + +"Got what!" says I. + +"Why, the contract," says he. + +"Chee!" says I. "Is that all? I thought you was pullin' one of his back +teeth." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +DOWN THE BUMPS WITH CLIFFY + + +Say, if you read in the papers to-morrow about how the Chicago Limited +was run on a siding and a riot call wired back to the nearest Chief of +Police, you needn't do any guessin' as to what's happened. It'll be a +cinch that Clifford's gettin' in his fine work; for the last I saw of +him he was headed West, and where he is there's trouble. + +But you mustn't tear off the notion that Clifford's a Mr. Lush, that +goes and gets himself all lit up like a birthday cake and then begins to +mix it. That ain't his line. He's one of the camel brand. The nearest he +ever gets to red liquor is when he takes bottled grape juice for a +spring tonic; but for all that he can keep the cops busier'n any thirsty +man I ever saw. + +First glimpse I gets of him was when I looks up from the desk and sees +him tryin' to find a break in the brass rail. And say, there wa'n't any +doubt about his havin' come in from beyond where they make up the milk +trains. Not that he wears any R. Glue costume. From the nose pinchers, +white tie, and black cutaway I might have sized him up as a cross +between a travelin' corn doctor and a returned missionary; but the ear +muffs and the umbrella and the black felt lid with the four-inch brim +put him in the tourist class. He was one of your skimpy, loose-jointed +parties, with a turkey neck that had a lump in front and wa'n't on good +terms with the back of his coat collar. Two of his front teeth was set +on a bias, givin' him one of these squirrel mouths that keeps you +thinkin' he's just goin' to bite into an apple. + +I watched him a minute or so without sayin' anything, while he was +pawin' around for the gate sort of absent minded, and when I thinks it's +about time to wake him up I sings out: + +"Say, Profess, you're on the right side of the fence now; let it go at +that." + +"Ah--er--I beg pardon," says he. + +"Well," says I, "that's a good start." + +"I--er--I beg----" says he. + +"You've covered that ground," says I. "Take a new lead." + +That seems to rattle him more'n ever. He hangs his umbrella over one +arm, peels off a brown woolen mitt, and fishes a card out of his inside +pocket. "This is the--ah--Corrugated Trust Building, is it not?" says +he. + +"It is, yes," says I; "but the place where you cash in your scalper's +book ticket is down on the third floor." + +"Oh!" says he. "Thank you very much," and he starts to trot out. He has +his hand on the knob, when a new thought comes to him. He tiptoes back +to the gate, pries off one of the ear muffs, and leans over real +confidential. "I didn't quite understand," says he. "Did you say Cousin +Robert's was the third door?" + +"Chee!" says I. "Willie, take off the other one, so you can get a good +healthy circulation through the belfry." + +The words seemed to daze him some; but he tumbled to my motions and +unstoppered his south ear. + +"Now," says I, "what's this about your Cousin Bob? Where'd you lose +him?" + +Watcher think, though? I gets it out of him that he's come all the way +from Bubble Creek, Michigan, and is lookin' for Mr. Robert Ellins. With +that I lets him through, plants him in a chair, and goes in to the boss. + +"Say," says I to Mr. Robert, "there's a guy, outside that's just floated +in from the breakfast food belt and is callin' for Cousin Robert. Here's +his card." + +"Why, that must be Clifford!" says he. + +"Then it's true, is it, the cousin business?" says I. + +"Certainly it is, Torchy," says he. "Why not?" + +"Oh, nothin'," says I. "I wouldn't have thought it, though." + +"It isn't at all necessary," says Mr. Robert. "Bring him in at once." + +"I guess I can spare him," says I. Then I goes back and taps Cousin +Clifford on the shoulder. "Cliffy," says I, "you're subpoened. Push +through two doors and then make yourself right to home." + +Course anyone's liable to have a freak cousin or so knockin' round in +the background, and I s'pose it was a star play of Mr. Robert's, givin' +the glad hand to this one; but if I'd found Clifford hangin' on my +fam'ly tree I'd have felt like gettin' out the prunin' saw. + +Maybe Mr. Robert was a little miffy because I hadn't been a mind reader +and played Clifford for a favorite from the start. Anyway, he jumps +right in to feature him, lugs him off to the club for lunch, and does +the honors joyous, just as though this was something he'd been lookin' +forward to for months. + +I was beginnin' to think I'd made a wrong guess on Clifford, and the +awful thought that maybe for once I'd talked too gay was just tricklin' +through my thatch, when we gets our first bulletin. Cliffy was due back +to the office about four-thirty, havin' gone off by his lonesome after +lunch; but at a quarter of five he don't show up. It was near closin' +time when Mr. Robert gets a 'phone call, and by the worried look I knew +something was up. + +"Yes," says he, "this is Robert Ellins. Yes, I know such a person. +That's right--Clifford. He's my cousin. No, is that so? Why, there must +be some mistake. Oh, there must be! I'll come up and explain. Yes, I'll +sign the bail bond." + +He didn't have a word to say when he turns around and catches me +grinnin'; but grabs his hat and coat and pikes for the green lights. + +There wa'n't any call for me to do any rubberin' next day, or ask any +questions. It was all in the mornin' papers: how a batty gent who looked +like a disguised second story worker had collected a crowd and blocked +traffic on Fifth Avenue by standin' on the curb in front of one of the +Vanderbilt houses and drawin' plans of it on a pad. + +Course, he got run in as a suspect, and I guess Mr. Robert had his +troubles showin' the desk sergeant that Clifford wa'n't a Western crook +who was layin' pipes for a little jimmy work. Cliffy's architect tale +wouldn't have got him off in a month, and if it hadn't been that Mr. +Robert taps the front of his head they'd had Clifford down to +Mulberry-st. and put his thumb print in the collection. + +He was givin' it to 'em straight, though. Architectin' was what Cliffy +was aimin' at. He'd been studying that sort of thing out in Michigan, +and now he was makin' a tour to see how it was done in other places, +meanin' to polish off with a few months abroad. Then, after he'd got +himself well soaked in ideas, maybe he'd go back to Bubble Creek, rent +an office over the bank, and begin drawin' front elevations of iron +foundries and double tenements. + +That's what comes of havin' rich aunts and uncles in the fam'ly, and +duckin' real work while you wait for notice from the Surrogate to come +on and take your share. It wa'n't a case of hustle with Clifford. I +suspicioned that his bein' an architect was more or less of a fad; but +he was makin' the most of it, there was no discountin' that. He'd laid +out a week to put in seein' how New York was built, high spots and low, +and he went at it like he was workin' by the piece. + +Now, say, there ain't no special harm in goin' around town gawpin' at +lib'ries and office buildin's and churches. 'Most anyone could have done +it without bumpin' into trouble; but not Cliffy. It was wonderful how he +dug up ructions--and him the mildest lookin' four-eyed gent ever let +loose. And green! Say, what sort of a flag station is Bubble Creek, +anyway? + +Askin' fool questions was Cliffy's specialty. You see, he'd made out a +list of buildin's he thought he wanted to take a look at; but he hadn't +stopped to put down the street numbers or anything. And when he wants +information does he hunt up a directory or a cop? Oh, no! He holds up +anyone that's handy, from a white wings dodgin' trucks in the middle of +Madison Square, to a Wall Street broker rushin' from 'Change out to a +directors' meetin'. He seems to think anybody he meets knows all about +New York, and has time to take him by the hand and lead him right where +he wants to go, whether it's the new Custom House down town, or Grant's +Tomb up on the drive. Throw downs don't discourage him any, either. Two +minutes after he's been told to go chase himself he'll butt right in +somewhere else and call for directions. + +The worst of it was that he couldn't remember what he was told for +more'n three minutes on a stretch. We found out these little tricks of +Clifford's after he'd been makin' the office his headquarters for a +couple of days. + +First mornin' we started him out early for the Battery, to size up the +Bowling Green Buildin' and the Aquarium. About noon he limps in with his +hat all dirt and ashes up and down his back. From the description he +gives we figure out that he's been somewhere up on Washington Heights +and has got into an argument with a janitor that didn't like being rung +up from the basement and asked how far it was to Whitehall-st. + +Well, we fixes him up, writes out all the partic'lars of his route on a +card, and gives him a fresh send-off. It wa'n't more'n half an hour +afterwards that I was out on an errand, and as I cut through 22d-st. +back of the Flatiron I sees a crowd. Course, I pushes in to find out +what was holdin' up all the carriages and bubbles that has to switch +through there goin' north. Somehow I had a feelin' that it might be +Clifford. And it was! + +He was in the middle of the ring, hoppin' around lively and wavin' that +umbrella of his like a sword. The other party was the pilot of a hansom +cab that had climbed down off his perch and was layin' on with his whip. + +I hated to disturb that muss; for I had an idea Cliffy was gettin' about +what was comin' to him, and the crowd was enjoyin' it to the limit. But +I see a couple of traffic cops comin' over from Broadway; so I breaks +through, grabs Clifford by the arm, and chases him down the avenue, +breathin' some hard but not much hurt. + +"Chee!" says I, "but you're a wonder! Was you tryin' to buy an +eight-mile cab ride for a quarter?" + +"Why, no," says he. "I merely stopped the man to ask him where the +nearest subway station was, and before I knew it he became angry. I'm +sure I didn't know----" + +"That's the trouble with you, Cliffy," says I, "and if you don't get +over it you'll be hurt bad. Where's that card we made out for you?" + +"I--I must have lost that," says he. + +"What you need is a guide and an accident policy," says I. "Better let +me tow you back to the office, and you can talk it over with Mr. +Robert." + +He was willin'. He'd had enough for one day, anyhow. + +By mornin' Mr. Robert has lost some of his joy over Cousin Clifford's +visit. Come to find out, he'd never seen him before, and hadn't heard +much about him, either. "Torchy," says he, "I shall be rather busy +to-day; so I am going to put Cousin Clifford in your care." + +"Ah, say!" says I. "Hand me an easier one. I couldn't keep him straight +less'n I had him on a rope and led him around." + +"Well, do that, then," says he, "anyway you choose. You may take the day +off, show him the buildings he wants to see, keep him out of trouble, +and don't leave him until you have him safe inside my house to-night. +I'll make it right with you." + +"Seein' it's you," says I, "I'll give it a whirl. But if Clifford wants +to travel around town with me he's got to shake the ear pads." + +Mr. Robert says he'll give him his instructions, and all that; but when +it came to springin' the programme on Clifford he runs on a snag. +Somewhere back of them squirrel teeth and under the soft hat there was a +streak of mule. Cliffy balks at the whole business. He's a whole lot +obliged, but he really don't care for comp'ny. Goin' around alone and +not havin' his thoughts sidetracked by some one taggin' along is what he +likes better'n anything else. He's always done it in Bubble Creek and +never got into any trouble before--that is, none to speak of. But he'll +promise to cut out janitors and cab drivers. + +As for the ear muffs, he couldn't think of partin' with them. For years +he's been puttin' them on the first of December and wearin' 'em until +the last of March, and he'd feel lost without 'em, just the same as he +would without the umbrella. Yes, he knew it wa'n't common; but that +didn't bother him at all. + +Right there I gets a new line on Clifford. He's one of these guys that +throws a bluff at bein' modest; but when you scratch him deep you gets +next to the fact that he's dead sure he's a genius and is anxious to +prove it by the way he wears his clothes. There's a lot of that kind +that shows themselves off every night at the fifty-cent table d'hôte +places; but I never knew any of 'em ever came in from so far west as +Bubble Creek. + +Mr. Robert wa'n't on, though. He still freezes to the notion that +Cousin Clifford's just a well-meanin', corn-fed innocent; so before he +turns him loose again he gives him a lot of good advice about not +gettin' tangled up with strangers. Cliffy smiles kind of condescendin' +and tells Mr. Robert he needn't worry a bit. + +With that off he goes; but every time the telephone rings that forenoon +me and Mr. Robert gets nervous. We don't hear a word from him, though, +and by three o'clock we're hopin' for the best. + +Then Aunt Julie shows up. She's a large, elegant old girl, all got up in +Persian lamb and a fur hat with seven kinds of sealin' wax fruit on it. +She's just in from Palm Beach, and she's heard that Brother Henry's boy +is here on a visit. + +"He was such a cute little dear when he was a baby!" says she. + +"He's changed," says Mr. Robert. + +"Of course," says Aunt Julie. "I do want to see if he's grown up to look +like Henry, as I said he would, or like his mother. Where is he now, +Robert?" + +"Heaven only knows!" says he. "It would suit me best if he was on his +way back to Michigan." + +"Why, Robert!" says Aunt Julie. "And Clifford the only cousin you have +in the world!" + +"One is quite enough," says he. + +That gives her another jolt, and she starts to lay out Mr. Robert good, +for givin' the frosty paw to a relation that had come so far to see him. +"I shall stay right here," says she, "until that poor, neglected young +man returns, and then I shall try to make up for your heartless +treatment." + +Aunt Julie didn't have a long wait. She hadn't more'n got herself +settled, when the elevator stops at our floor and there breaks loose all +kinds of a riot in the hall. There was a great jabberin' and foot +scufflin', and I could hear Dennis, that juggles the lever, forkin' out +the assault 'n' batt'ry language in a brogue that sounded like rippin' a +sheet. + +"What's up now?" says Mr. Robert, pokin' his head out. + +"Two to one that's Clifford!" says I. + +There wa'n't any time to get a bet down, though; for just then the door +slams open and we gets a view of things. Oh, it was Cliffy, all right! +He was comin' in backwards, tryin' to wave off the gang that was +follerin' him. + +"Go away!" says he, pushin' at the nearest of 'em. "Please go away!" + +"Ah, it's you should be goin' away, ye shark-faced baboon, ye!" says +Dennis, hoppin' up and down in the door of the car. "You an' yer Polack +friends may walk down, or jump out the winder; but divvle a ride do yez +get in this illyvator again. Do ye mind that, now?" + +You couldn't blame him; for the bunch wa'n't fit for the ash hoist. They +were Zinskis, about twenty of 'em, countin' women and kids. You didn't +have to look at the tin trunks and roped bundles to know that they'd +just finished ten days in the steerage. You could tell that by the +bouquet. They didn't carry their perfume with 'em. It went on ahead, and +they follered, backin' Cliffy clear in until he fetched up against the +gate, and then jammin' in around him close. Chee! but they was a punky +lot! They had jack lantern faces and garlic breaths, and they looked to +know about as much as so many cigar store Injuns. + +"Did you have your pick, Cliffy," says I, "or was this a job lot you got +cheap?" + +"Clifford," says Mr. Robert, "what in thunder is the meaning of this +performance of yours?" + +But Clifford just keeps on tryin' to work his elbows clear and looks +dazed. "I don't know," says Cliffy, "truly I don't, Cousin Robert. +They've been following me for an hour, and I've had an awful time." + +"Maybe you've been makin' a noise like a wienerwurst," says I. + +About that time Aunt Julie comes paddin' out. "Did I hear some one say +Clifford?" says she. + +"You did," says Mr. Robert. "There he is, the one with the ear muffs. I +haven't found out who the others are yet." + +"Phe-e-e-ew!" says she, takin' one sniff, and with that she grabs out +her scent bottle and runs back, slammin' the door behind her. + +"Cliffy," says I, "you don't seem to be makin' much of a hit with your +Ellis Island bunch." + +"What I want to know," says Mr. Robert, "is what this is all about!" + +But Clifford didn't have the key. All he knew was that when he started +to leave the subway train they had tagged after, and that since then he +hadn't been able to shake 'em. Once he'd jumped on a Broadway car; but +they'd all piled in too, and the conductor had made him shell out a +nickel for every last one. Another time he'd dodged through one of them +revolvin' doors into a hotel, and four of 'em had got wedged in so tight +it took half a dozen porters to get 'em out; but the house detective had +spotted Clifford for the head of the procession and held him by the +collar until he could chuck him out to join his friends. + +"It was simply awful!" says he, throwin' up his hands. + +And then I notices the rattan cane. After that it was all clear. +"Where'd you cop the stick, Cliffy?" says I. + +"Stick!" says he. "Why, bless me! I must have taken this instead of my +umbrella. It belongs to that gentleman who sat next to me in the subway +train. You see he was leaning back taking a nap in the corner, and I was +trying to talk to him, and when I left I suppose I took his cane by +mistake." + +"Well," says I, "the Zinskis goes with the cane." + +It's a fact, too. Most all them immigrant runners carries rattans when +they're herdin' gangs of imported pick artists around to the railroad +stations. It's kind of a badge and helps the bunch to keep track of +their leader. Most likely them Zinskis had had their eyes glued to that +cane for hours, knowin' that it was leadin' 'em to a job somewheres, and +they wa'n't goin' to let it get away. + +"Gimme it," says I; "I'll show you how it works." + +Sure enough, soon's I took it and started for the door the whole push +quits eatin' cheese and bread out of their pockets and falls in right +after me. + +"Fine!" says Mr. Robert, grabbin' my hat and chuckin' it after me. "Go +on, Torchy! Keep going!" + +"Ah, say!" says I. "I ain't subbin' for Cliffy. This is his gang." + +But Mr. Robert only grins and motions me to be on my way. "If you come +back here before to-morrow morning," says he, "I'll discharge you on +the spot." + +Now wouldn't that bump you? + +"All right," says I: "but this'll cost Cliffy just twenty." + +"I'll pay it," says Mr. Robert. + +"It's a whizz," says I, wavin' the cane. "Come on, you Sneezowskis! I'll +show you where the one fifty per grows on bushes." + +What did I do with 'em? Ah, say, it was a cinch! I runs 'em down seven +flights of stairs, marches 'em three blocks up town, and then rushes up +to a big stiff in a green and gold uniform that's hired to stand outside +a flower shop and open carriage doors. He and me had some words a couple +of months ago, because I butted him in the belt when I was in a hurry +once. + +"Here," says I, rushin' up and jammin' the cane into his hand, "hold +that till I come back!" and before he has time to pipe off the bunch of +Polackers that's come to a parade rest around us, I makes a dive in +amongst the cars and beats it down Broadway. + +Nah, I don't know what becomes of him, or the Zinskis either. All I know +is that I'm twenty to the good, and that Cousin Clifford's been shipped +back to Bubble Creek, glad to get out of New York alive. But, as I says +to Mr. Robert, "What do you look for from a guy that buttons his ears up +in flannel?" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +BACKING OUT OF A FLUFF RIOT + + +They will turn up, won't they? Here I was only yesterday noontime +loafin' through the arcade, when who should I get the hail from but +Hunch Leary, with a bookful of rush messages and his cap down over his +ears. + +Now I ain't sayin' he's the toughest lookin' A. D. T. that ever sat on a +call bench, for maybe I've seen worse; but with his bent-in nose, and +his pop eyes, and that undershot jaw--well, he ain't one you'd send in +to quiet a cryin' baby. Hunch didn't pose for that picture of the sweet +youth on the blue signs outside the district offices. They don't pick +him out for these theater-escort snaps, either. + +Which shows how far you can go on looks, anyway; for, if I was going to +trust my safety-vault key with anyone, it would be Hunch. Not that +they'll ever use him to decorate any stained-glass window; but I never +look for him to land on the rock pile. + +Course, I don't see much of Hunch and the rest these days; but it ain't +a case of dodgin' old friends on my part, so me and him hangs up +against a radiator in the main corridor and talks it over. I wants to +know if Stiff Miller is still manager down at No. 11 branch, and who's +wearin' the red stripe yet; while Hunch he puts over a few polite +quizzes as to how I'm gettin' on with the Corrugated people. + +We hadn't been gassin' but five minutes or so, and there's ten more due +on the clock before lunch hour is over, when I looks up to see our Mr. +Piddie going by and givin' me the frown. I knew what that meant. It's +another call-down. He has plenty of time to work up his case; for I takes +the limit and don't hang up my hat until the life-insurance chimes has +done their one-o'clock stunt. And I'm hardly settled behind the brass +gate before Piddie is down on me with the old mushy-mouthed reproof. + +"One is known," says he, "by the company one keeps." + +"I'm no New Theater manager," says I. "What's the answer?" + +"I observed you loitering in the lower corridor," says he. "That is +all." + +"Oh!" says I. "You seen me conversin' with Mr. Leary, eh?" + +"Mr. Leary!" says Piddie, raisin' his eyebrows. + +"Well, Hunch, then," says I. "Tryin' to get up a grouch because you +wa'n't introduced? Don't take it hard. He's kind of exclusive, Mr. Leary +is." + +Piddie swallows that throat pippin of his two or three times before he +can get a grip on his feelings enough to go on with the lesson of the +day. "I merely wish to remark," says he, "that evil communications +corrupt good manners." + +"How about court Judges, then," says I, "and these slum missionaries'? +G'wan, Piddie! Back to the copybook with your mottoes! I'm a mixer, I +am! Would I be chinnin' here with you if I wa'n't?" + +He sighs, Piddie does, and struts away to freeze the soul of some new +lady typist by looking over her shoulder. As an act of charity, they +ought to let Piddie fire me about once a month. He'll die of grief if he +don't get the chance sometime. + +And blamed if he don't come near gettin' his heart's desire before the +day was over! + +It all begins about three o'clock, when Piddie comes turkeyin' out of +the telephone booth all swelled up with importance and signals me to +come on the carpet. + +"Torchy," says he, "I presume you know where the Metropolitan Building +is?" + +"They ain't moved it since lunchtime, have they?" says I. + +"That will do!" says he. "Now listen very carefully." + +You'd thought from his preamble that I was going to be sent up to +regulate the clock, or see if the tower was still plumb; but all it +simmers down to is that I'm to take a leather document case, hunt up Mr. +Ellins, who's attendin' a directors' meetin' over there, and deliver +some papers that he's forgot to have his private secretary lug along. + +"And kindly refrain," he tacks on at the last, "from stopping to talk +with any suspicious characters on the way." + +"Say, Piddie," says I, "if I was you I'd have that printed on a card. +Some day you're going to forget to rub that in." + +Well, I hustles across the square, locates Old Hickory, and delivers the +goods without droppin' 'em down a manhole or doin' any of the other +awful things that Piddie would have warned me against if he'd had more +time. I tucks the empty case under my arm and was for makin' a record +trip back, just to surprise Piddie; but while I'm waitin' for that +flossy lever juggler on the express elevator to answer my red-light +signal I hears this riot break loose on the floor below. + +And say, I wa'n't missin' any lively disturbance like that; for it +listens like a mob scene from one of them French guillotine plays. +Mostly it's female voices that floats up, and they was all tuned to the +saw-filin' pitch. A pasty-faced young gent wearin' a green eye-shade and +an office coat comes beatin' it up the marble steps, and I fires a +question at him on the fly. + +"Is it a gen'ral rough-house number," says I, "or have the suffragettes +broke loose again?" + +"You're welcome to find out for yourself," he pants, dashin' up another +flight. + +"Thanks for the invite," says I. "Guess I will." + +And, say, talk about your mass plays around a shirtwaist bargain +counter! Why, the corridor was full of 'em, all tryin' to rush the door +of 1,323 at once. For a guess I should say that half the manicure +artists, lady demonstrators, and cloak models between 14th and 34th was +on the spot. Oh, they was a swell bunch, with more fur turbans and Marie +Antoinette ringlets on view than you could see collected anywhere +outside of Murray's! + +They was sayin' things, too! I couldn't catch anything but odd words +here and there; but the gen'ral drift of their remarks seems to be that +someone has welshed on 'em. First off I thought it must be one of these +skirt bucket-shops that has been closed out by the renting agent; but +then I gets a look at the sign on the door and sees that it's the +Peruvian Investment Company, which sounds like one of them common twenty +per cent. a month games. + +And it's a case of lockout, with the lady customers ragin' on the +outside, and nobody knows what's takin' place behind the ground glass. +That wa'n't excitin' enough to lure me from a steady job for long, +though, unless some one was goin' to do more'n look desp'rate and talk +spiteful. + +"Ah, why not smash something?" I sings out. "Didn't any lady think to +bring a brick in her vanity bag?" + +A couple turns around and glares at me; but it encourages one to begin +hammerin' on the glass with her near-gold purse, and just as I'm about +to leave this turns the trick. The door swings open all of a sudden, and +there stands a tall, well-built gent, with a green felt hat pushed back +on his head, a five-inch cigar juttin' out of one corner of his mouth, +and his thumbs stuck in the pockets of a sporty striped vest. On account +of the curly brown Vandyke, he's kind of a foreign-lookin' party; but +someway them smilin', wide-open eyes of his has a sort of familiar look. + +For a high pressure storm center he seems mighty placid. As he throws +open the door he steps back into the middle of the room, rests one elbow +against the rail of a wired-in cashier's coop, and removes the cheroot +so he can spring a comfortin' smile on the crowd. It's a brainy play. +The rush line stops like it has gone up against a bridge pier, and then +spreads out in a half-circle. + +"Well, ladies," says he, "what can we do for you to-day?" + +Do I know who it is then? Well, do I! Maybe it has been months since +I've heard the voice, and maybe he does wear a set of face herbage that +I'd never seen before; but I ain't one to forget the only real A-1 +classy boss I ever had; not that soon, anyway. It's Mr. Belmont Pepper, +as sure as I've got a Titian thatch on my skull! + +Do I linger? That's what! Why, I've been waitin' for him to show up +again like a hired girl waits for Thursday afternoon. It's Mr. Pepper, +all right; but it looks like he's been let in bad, for after one or two +gasps in chorus that bunch of lady grouches gets their second wind and +closes in on him with a whoop. + +"Where's my dividends? I want to draw out my money! Say, you give me +back my eighteen dollars, or I'll----You'll try your bunko game on me, +will you? Hey! I've been waiting since noon to catch you, you----" + +My! but they did have their hammers out! They called him everything that +a lady could, and a few names that wa'n't so ladylike as they might +have been. They shook things at him, and promised to do him all sorts of +damage, from bringin' lawsuits to scratchin' his eyes out. + +Mr. Pepper, though, he goes on smokin' and smilin', now and then +throwin' in a shoulder shrug just to hint that there wa'n't any use in +his tryin' to get in a word until they was all through. He almost acts +like he enjoyed being mobbed; but of course he knew better'n to choke +off a lot of women before they'd had their say out. He just let 'em jaw +along and get it out of their systems. Fin'lly he raises his hand, takes +off the green lid, and bows graceful. + +"Ladies," says he, "I fully sympathize with your impatience--fully." + +"You look it, I don't think!" sings out a big blonde, shakin' her willow +plumes energetic. + +Mr. Pepper throws her a smile and spiels ahead. "You will be pleased to +hear, however," says he, "that the board of directors, on the strength +of cabled advices from our general manager in Peru, has just voted an +extra dividend of ten per cent." + +"When do we get it? Show us some money!" howls the kickers. + +"I have been requested to announce," goes on Mr. Pepper, "that payments +from this office will be resumed promptly at noon--on the first day of +next month." + +Does that satisfy 'em? Not so you'd notice it. A bigger squawk than ever +goes up, and the jam around Mr. Pepper begins to look like rush hour at +the Hudson Terminal. They starts clawin' at his elbows, and grabbin' his +coat, and when I notices one wild-eyed brunette reachin' for a hatpin I +knew it was a case of me to the rescue or sendin' in an ambulance call. + +Not that I had any notion what ought to be done in a case like this. I +couldn't throw him a rope or shove out a plank; I ain't any expert woman +trainer, either; but can I stand there with my mouth open and see an old +friend get the hooks thrown into him by a class in hysterics? Not when +the hookee happens to be one that once set me up as a stockholder in a +gold mine. So I lets flicker with the first fool idea that comes into my +head. + +"Gangway!" I shouts out, wedgin' my way in among 'em and usin' my +elbows. "Gangway for the bank messenger! Ah, don't shove, girls; he +ain't the only man left in New York. One side for the real money +bringer! One side now!" And by holdin' the leather case high up where +they could all see it, and hittin' the line like Coy does when it's +three downs with ten yards to go, I manages to get through without +losin' many coat buttons. + +"Here you are, sir," says I, shovin' the case out to Mr. Pepper and +givin' him the knowin' look. "City National. Cashier wants a receipt." + +Does he need a diagram and a card of instructions? Trust Belmont Pepper! +"Ah, this way," says he. "Pardon me a moment, ladies, only a moment. +This way, young man." And almost before they know what has happened him +and me are behind the partition with the gate locked. + +"Let's see," says he, lookin' me over kind of puzzled, +"it's--er--Torchy, isn't it?" + +"There's the proof," says I, liftin' the cover off my danger signal. + +"I might have known," says he, "that no one else could have put up so +good a bluff on the spur of the----" + +"Now that's all right, Mr. Pepper," says I; "but the bluff won't hold +'em long. What you want to do is get busy and make a noise like +hundred-dollar bills. I don't know what the trouble is; but it looks +like the genuine goods to me." + +"Diagnosis correct," says he. "I'm boxed. Now if they were only men, I +could----" + +"Oh, sure!" says I. "But a bunch of nutty fluffs is diff'rent. They +never know what they want or why they want it. Say, ain't you got +another exit?" + +Mr. Pepper shakes his head. "No, son," says he; "but don't you worry +about me. Your strategy thus far has been excellent; but I don't want +you to get mixed up in this mess. Skip, Torchy, while the skipping is +easy." + +"Mr. Pepper," says I, "do I look like a quitter? I ain't forgot what you +did about givin' me them Glory Be stocks, either, and I'm goin' to hang +around here until this little private cyclone of yours blows over." + +Mr. Pepper he looks at me a minute in that calm way of his, and then he +shrugs his shoulders. "All right," says he. + +Then we listens to the buzz outside. Some was explainin' to others how a +bushel of money had just come in from the City National Bank, and some +was insistin' that it was just a north-pole fake. It's a free-for-all +debate with all rules in the discard. Then we hears one voice that's +louder than the others calling out for a committee. + +"We must organize!" she says. "Let's organize for action!" + +"Ah!" observes Mr. Pepper. "Now for feminine tactics! That looks +better." + +A couple of minutes more and they've concluded to adjourn to the +corridor. When they're all out and I can hear 'em down at the further +end, I gives him the tip. + +"Now's your chance!" says I. "Up one flight and you can get an express +elevator. I'll show you." + +Mr. Pepper don't like the idea, though, of doin' the gumshoe sneak. He +hates to run away from any kind of a fight, specially a lot of women. He +don't run, either; but after awhile he consents to walk out, and we +strolls towards the steps dignified and easy. + +It looked like a clean get-away for a minute, too; but I hadn't counted +on their leavin' a picket to watch the elevator. She sees us and gives +the alarm; so by the time we're up to the next floor the whole mob is +after us, lettin' out the war cries as if it was a case of kidnappin'. + +They struck the upper corridor just as I've got my finger on the button, +and in the front ranks they're pushin' along the gray uniformed special +cop that they've rung up from the first floor. Also who should step out +into the midst of the riot but Old Hickory Ellins, just leavin' the +directors' meeting. He goes purple-faced and bug-eyed, but before I can +dodge out of sight of course he spots me. And that's the very minute +when a couple of lady avengers points me and Mr. Pepper out to the cop +and the pinch business is about to begin. + +"Why, what's all the row about, Torchy?" says he. "And who is that with +you?" He gets answers from the anvil chorus. + +"That's the swindler!" they shouts. "That's Prentice Owens! He's the one +that took our money, and the boy is one of the gang! Nab 'em, Mr. +Officer, please nab 'em!" + +"G'wan, you're a lot of flossy kikes!" I throws back at 'em. + +"Torchy," says Mr. Ellins, "have you been up to any swindling game?" + +"Honest, I ain't, Mr. Ellins," says I. + +"I am inclined to believe that," says he; "but what about the other +person? Is he a friend of yours?" + +"Sure," says I. "And he's on the level too." + +"He's Prentice Owens, is he?" says he. + +"Nah," says I. "He's Mr. Belmont Pepper, he is, president of the Glory +Be Mining Company. Why, I used to work for him! That aggregation of +female dopes is full of prunes. Mr. Pepper's no crook." + +"Hum!" says Old Hickory, rubbin' his chin. "A case of mistaken identity, +eh? Officer, you know me, I suppose?" + +"Yes, Mr. Ellins," says the special, jerkin' off his cap, "oh, yes, +sir." + +"Then drive these deluded women downstairs and tell them their mistake," +says Old Hickory. "Come, Mr. Pepper. Come, Torchy. In with you!" + +And inside of two shakes we're shootin' down a one hundred and fifty +foot shaft with no stops until the ground floor. Not until we gets +outside and Mr. Ellins jumps into his cab does Mr. Pepper say a word. + +"Torchy," says he, "you're the real thing in the friendship line. I will +admit that appearances are somewhat against me, but----" + +"Ah, say!" I breaks in. "Don't I know you, Mr. Pepper? Do I have to see +any books to know that you're playin' a straight game? It was a matter +of needin' a little time, wa'n't it, and bein' rushed off your feet when +you didn't expect the move? I could guess that much from the start. All +I want to ask is, how's the mine gettin' on, the Glory Be, you know?" + +He looks at his feet for a second or so and kind of flushes. Then he +straightens up, looks me level between the eyes, and reaches out a hand +to give me the brotherhood grip. + +"Torchy," says he, "there is a mine, and the last I heard it was still +there. Anyway, I'm dropping the investment business right here, and I'm +going out to see what our property looks like. I'll let you know." With +that he whirls and dashes off across the avenue. + +"How is it," says Piddie when I gets back, "that it takes you an hour +and a quarter to go four blocks?" + +"Hookworms, Piddie," says I, "hookworms. I had a sudden attack." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +RUNG IN WITH THE GOLD SPOONERS + + +On the level now, what's a he Cinderella? And if your boss called you a +name like that, would you resign, or throw out your chest and strike for +a raise? But, then, maybe it was only some of Mr. Robert's fancy +joshin'. Anyway, I'd stand in line waitin' for a thing like that to +happen again. + +The way it begun was when I runs across this new girl in the filin' room +and finds her snifflin' over one of the index cases. She's bitin' her +lips to keep from doing it and she's red way up behind her ears; so I +knows she's more mad than sorry. I could guess what's happened; for I'd +just seen Piddie come out of there looking satisfied and important. + +"Hello, sis!" says I. "Weepin' over your job so soon?" + +"Shut up!" says she. + +"Why, how pettish!" says I. "What was Piddie callin' you down for?" + +"What's that to you?" says she. "Who are you, anyway?" + +"Me?" says I. "Why, I'm the Corrugated's gen'ral grouch dispeller. I'm +the official little ray of sunshine. See?" and I bobs my head so she can +get a good view of my red thatch. + +"Huh!" says she; but she can't help lettin' out a grin, so I sees the +cure has begun. + +"Don't you mind Piddie," says I. "He don't dare tie the can to you +without reportin' higher up. He likes to make a noise like a watchdog, +that's all. Next time you give him the merry chuckle." + +And, honest, I'd done the same if she'd been wall-eyed and +toggle-jointed, just for the sake of blockin' off his little game. + +It wa'n't until a couple of days later, when she shoots over a casual +flashlight look as I'm strollin' past, that I takes any partic'lar +notice of what a Daisy Maizie she is. There's more or less class to her +lines, all right, not to mention a pair of rollin' brown eyes. Course, I +sends back the roguish wink, and by the end of the week we was callin' +each other by our pet names. + +Not that I'm entered reg'lar as a Percy boy, or that I takes this so +serious as to miss any meals; but you know how it is. And what if she +was a few years older? She seems to like it when I sing out, "Oh, you +Theresa!" at her, and once she mussed up my hair when there wa'n't +anybody lookin'. In fact, I was almost to the point of thinkin' that I'd +been picked as somebody's honey boy when this Izzy Budheimer shows up as +a late entry. + +Izzy, he's a third assistant in the stock department, and on twelve a +week he sports one of those striped green overcoats and a plush hat with +the bow behind. Maybe he wouldn't be listed as a home destroyer; but he +has a flossy way with him and he goes around a lot. About the second +week I sees him and the new girl gettin' chummier and chummier, and, +while she still has a jolly for me now and then, I knows I'm only a side +issue. That's what hurt most. So what fool play must I make but go and +plunge on a sixty-cent box of mixed choc'lates for her! + +As luck would have it, Mr. Robert spots me comin' out of the 23d-st. +candy shop with the package under my arm. You wouldn't think he'd notice +a little clew like that, or pick me up on it; but he does. + +"How now, Torchy?" says he. "Sweets to the sweet, eh?" + +"Uh-huh," says I, and I guess I colors up some. + +"What is the fair one's name?" says he. + +"Tessie," says I. + +"Ah!" says he. "Thus were they ever named: Tessie, Juliet, and Helen of +Troy. They're all one. My envious sympathy, Torchy, and may the gods be +kind!" + +Which is only the brand of hot air Mr. Robert blows off whenever he has +a good lunch under his vest and nothin' heavy on his mind. It don't mean +anything at all. + +"Troy!" says I. "Can it! This ain't for no up-State laundry hand. She +comes from Eighth-ave." + +Well, I stows the box away until closin' time, and then waits around the +upper corridor for Tessie to show up. Izzy, he spots me and proceeds to +improve the time by givin' me an earache about what an important party +he is, how he expects to be jumped a notch soon, and about how much he +makes nights on the outside, followin' up some checkroom snap or other. + +"That's fine!" says I. "But won't you be late gettin' over to +Grand-st.?" + +Izzy was still explainin' how long it was since his folks moved to the +West Side, and what swell things they had in the parlor, when Tessie +floats out with her new spring lid and princess walkin' suit on. I'm +just shovin' out the peace offerin' and gettin' ready to hand over my +smoothest josh, when she brushes past like I was part of the wall +decoration, squeals, "Oh, Mr. Budheimer!" and begins showin' Izzy some +tickets for the grand annual benefit ball of the Shirtwaist Makers' +Union, and tellin' him how she was sellin' 'em for her sister, and what +a grand time it was goin' to be. + +"How much?" says Izzy, tryin' hard to choke it back, but losin' the +struggle. + +"Seventy-five for a double ticket," says Tessie. "That's the kind you +want." + +"Maybe I would yet, if I could get a partner," says he. + +"Ain't that an awful sad case?" says Tessie. "Nobody's teased me very +hard, either." + +"You'll go with me, yes?" says Izzy. + +"It's awful sudden," says she; "but a chance is a chance. Don't send a +cab; the folks in the block might think I was putting on." + +And me? Why, I don't show on the chart at all! Right under my nose she +does it, and don't even give me a sideways glance. + +"Pooh!" says I. "Pooh, pooh!" + +"What a cute little fellah!" says Tessie to him as they crowds into the +elevator with the rest of the push. + +"Say," says I, making a jump for the grating, "you don't need to----" + +"Next car!" sings out the Johnny Flip, slammin' the door. Now wa'n't +that rubbin' it in? + +"Coises!" says I. "Deep coises!" and walks down eleven flights with a +temperature that would have got me condemned by any boiler inspector in +the business. The candy? That goes to one of the pie-faced maids where I +lives. + +The nerve of that Izzy, though! In the mornin' he comes around just like +nothin' had happened and wants to know if I'll sub. for him on his +evenin' job the night he goes to the ball. To show I don't carry any +grouch, I says I will; but he offers only half-pay and makes me agree to +split the tips with him. + +"I couldn't afford it, at that," says he, "only this is a kid session +and the graft will be light." + +It's this checkroom work of his, you know, at one of them swell +Fifth-ave. joints where they have an extra night force on call for +coming-out parties and dinner dances and the like. So, while him and +Tessie is enjoyin' themselves with the lady shirtwaist makers, I'm +standin' behind the counter wearin' a braided jacket, givin' out check +coupons, and stowin' away hats and top-coats for Master Reginald and +other buddin' sports of the younger set. Seems this is the final blowout +of Miss Somebody's afternoon dancin' class, and no one was allowed +inside unless Father had his name printed in bright red ink in the +social register. + +A hot lot of young gold spooners they was too; some of 'em not as old as +me by a couple of years, and swellin' around in dinky Tuxes and white +kids. One of 'em even hands me in a silver-headed cane. + +"Careful of that stick, my man," says he. + +"Oh, sure!" says I. "Puppah'd be wild if anything happened to it, +wouldn't he?" + +And you should have heard the talk they had as they loafs around the +cloakroom between the numbers,--all about the awful things they did at +prep school, how they bunked the masters, and smuggled brandied peaches +up to their rooms, and rough-housed durin' mornin' prayers. Almost made +your blood run cold--not. + +When they got to discussin' the girls, though, and sayin' how such a one +was a "jolly sort," and others was "bloomin' rotters," it made me +seasick and it was a relief when they took to whisperin' things I +couldn't hear about the chaperons. After intermission they come sneakin' +in by twos and threes to hit up their cigarettes. + +It was about eleven-thirty and there was four or five of 'em in the +cloakroom, puffin' away languid like real clubmen, when in drifts a +young lady all in pink silk and gold net and hails one of the wicked +bunch. + +"Bobby," says she, "you ought to be ashamed of yourself!" + +"Run on now, Vee," says he. "Told you when I asked you to come that I +wasn't a dancing man, y'know." + +"Fudge!" says she, stampin' her foot. "You think it's smart to take that +pose, don't you? Well, you wait!" + +And, say, you talk about your haughty beauts! Why, she was a little the +silkiest young queen I ever had a real close view of,--the slimmest feet +and ankles, reg'lar cameo-cut face all tinted up natural like a bunch of +sweet peas, and a lot of straw-colored hair as fine as cobwebs. She was +a thoroughbred stunner, this Miss Vee was, and mad all over. + +"I haven't been on the floor for four numbers," she goes on. "You just +wait!" + +"You wouldn't be cad enough to peach on us for smokin', would you?" says +Bobby. + +"Wouldn't I, though!" says she. + +That starts a stampede. All but Bobby chucks away their cigarettes and +beats it back to the ballroom. He turns sulky, though. + +"Tell ahead," says he. "Who cares? And let's see you get any more +dances!" + +He's a pasty-faced, weak-jawed youth with a chronic scowl and a sullen +look in his eyes. I should say he was sixteen maybe, and the young lady +a year older. She grips her fan hard and stands there starin' at him. +I'm so much int'rested in the case that the first thing I know I've +butted in with advice. + +"Ah, be nice, Claude!" says I. "Dance with the young lady. I would if I +was you." + +And you can't guess how fussy a little remark like that gets Bobby boy. +He almost swallows his cigarette from the jar he gets, being spoken to +by a common cloakroom checker. First off he jumps up and stalks over to +me real majestic and threatenin'. + +"You--you----How dare you?" he splutters out. + +"There, there!" says I. "Don't get bristle-spined over it. I wa'n't +offerin' any deadly insult, and if it makes you feel as bad as all that +I'll take it back." + +"I--I'll have you dismissed!" he growls. + +"Can't do it, Bobby," says I. "I'm no reg'lar tip-chaser. I'm here +incog.--doing it for a lark, y'know. Back to your corner, now! There's a +lady present." + +He glares at me for a minute or so, and then turns on the queen in pink. +"I hope you're satisfied, Vee," says he. "You would come in here, +though! I can't help it if the attendants are insolent to you." + +"Pooh!" says Miss Vee. "The young man was only taking my part." + +"So?" sneers Bobbie. "I congratulate you on your new champion." + +"He acts more like a gentleman than you do, at any rate!" she fires back +at him. + +"Does he?" says Bobby. "Then why don't you get him for a partner?" + +[Illustration: "G'WAN!" SAYS I, "IT'S A FAIR SWAP."] + +"If you don't ask me for this next waltz, I will," says she, tossin' up +her chin. + +"What a bluff!" says Bobby. "Well, Miss Vee, I'm not going to ask you. +Now!" + +Say, it was gettin' more or less personal by that time, and I was +wonderin' just how the young lady was goin' to back out of the +proposition that had been put up to her, when the first thing I know +she's marchin' straight over to where I was. + +"Will you give me this next waltz?" says she. + +"Say," I gasps, "do you mean it?" + +"Certainly I do," says she. "You can dance, can't you?" + +"I don't know," says I; "but I can do an East Side spiel." + +"Good!" says she. "I know how to do that too. Come on." + +"In a minute," says I. "Just hold on until I borrow the young +gentleman's evenin' coat." + +"Wha--what's that?" snorts Bobby. + +"You can be usin' mine for a smokin' jacket," says I. "Peel it off now, +and let the fancy vest come along too!" + +"I--I won't do it!" says Bobbie. + +"Oh, yes, you will," says I, "or else you and me will be mixed up in a +rumpus that'll bring the chaperons and special cops in here on the +run," and with that I proceeds to shed the braided coat and my black +vest. + +"You're insulting!" says Bobby, gettin' wild-eyed. + +"G'wan!" says I. "It's a fair swap. I'll leave it to the young lady." + +And when I'd sized her up for a thoroughbred I hadn't made any wild +guess. There's a twinkle under them long eyelashes that's as good as a +go-ahead signal. + +"Of course," says she. "It was you who suggested him as a partner, +anyway. And hurry, Bobby, there goes the waltz!" + +"I--I----" he begins. + +"Ah, shuck 'em!" says I, startin' for him hasty. + +I expects it was the prospects of gettin' rung into a rough and tumble, +and having to explain to mother, that changed Bobby's mind so sudden. At +any rate, inside of a minute more I'm wearin' the pearl-gray waistcoat +and the silk-faced tuxedo, and out I sails onto the shiny floor of the +green and gold ballroom with somebody's pink-costumed heiress hangin' to +my left arm. + +"One-two-three; one-two-three----Now!" says she, countin' out the time +so I shouldn't make any false start. + +But, say, I didn't need that. Course, I'm no cotillion leader, and about +all the dancin' I ever done was at chowder parties or in the Coney +Island halls; but who couldn't keep step to a tune like "Yip-I-Addy" +played by a twelve-piece goulash orchestra, specially with such a +crackerjack partner as Miss Vee was? + +Could we spiel together? Why, say, we just floats along over the waxed +maple boards like a pair of summer butterflies, pivotin' first one way +and then the other, dodgin' in and out among the couples, and givin' an +exhibition that had any other performance on the floor lookin' like a +cripples' parade. + +First it got into my heels, and then it goes to my head. I didn't know +whether I was waltzin', or havin' a joy ride with some biplane shuffer. +I wa'n't sayin' a word in the way of language; but Miss Vee keeps up a +string of chatter and giggles that's enough for both. You'd thought to +see us, I expect, that we was carryin' on a real, rapid-fire, smart-set +dialogue, when all the while it was only her tellin' me how the +diff'rent parties was actin' when they first spotted her on the floor +with a ringer, and how the chaperons were squintin' at us through their +lorgnettes, tryin' to make out who I was. And the greatest shock I ever +had was when the music stopped and I fell about a mile down through rosy +clouds. + +"Wait!" says Miss Vee, squeezin' my arm. "There'll be an encore. My +aunt's over there, and she's just wild; but it doesn't matter." + +"You're a good sport," says I, joinin' in the hand-clappin' to jog the +orchestra into givin' us a repeat. + +And just as they starts up the tune again I happens to glance up into +the little visitors' balcony at the end of the ballroom. Who do you +guess I sees watchin' us bug-eyed and open-mouthed? Why, Izzy Budheimer +and Miss Tessie! See? They've broke away from the lady shirtwaisters +durin' the supper hour so Izzy can give his new girl a glimpse of what a +real swell dance is like. Maybe he planned on stoppin' in at the +cloakroom too, and seein' if I was holdin' down the job proper. + +Anyway, I can't blame him for doin' the open-face act when he discovers +me out on the floor with the belle of the ball. But all I has time to do +is send him up the chilly stare, and away we go again into another +one-two-three dream--me and Miss Vee. + +"I don't care what becomes of me," she hums over my shoulder. + +"Me either," says I. + +"Silly boy!" says she. "What's your name?" + +"Just Torchy," says I, "after my hair." + +"I think curly red hair is cute," says she. + +"I could go hoarse sayin' things like that about you," says I. + +Maybe it was lucky, too, that this second installment was short, or I +might have gone clean mushy; for the way she could look at me out of +them big gray eyes of hers was--well, it was the real thing in thrills. +The wind-up came just as we gets around near the cloakroom door and we +stops. + +"It was awfully good of you," says she. + +"Gee!" says I. "Why, I could wear out all my old shoes doin' that, and +if ever you need----" + +"S-s-sh!" says she. "Here comes my aunt!" + +Not waitin' for any further diagram of the situation, I makes a dash +into the cloakroom, where I finds Izzy Budheimer gazin' puzzled at +Bobby, who's sittin' tilted back in his shirt sleeves with the braided +coat slung on the floor. + +"Look here, Torchy!" begins Izzy. "What the----" + +"On the job, Izzy, if you want to save it!" says I, wigglin' out of +Master Bobby's expensive clothes and chuckin' 'em at him. + +"But why--what----" says Izzy, tryin' again. + +"Don't stop to ask fool questions of a busy society man," says I; "but +jump into your uniform, get in your coop there, and prepare to put the +timelock on your conversation works. In about a minute there'll be a +delegation of old hens in here lookin' for a mysterious young gent with +incendiary hair who has disappeared. Your cue is to look innocent and +not know anything about it. See? If there's any explainin' to be done, +let Bobby do it." + +"Oh, I say!" groans Bobby, jumpin' up, and by the time I've struck the +bottom stair on my way out he's grabbed his overcoat and is beatin' it +down to find his carriage. + +How Miss Vee squared it with Aunty is a puzzle I never expect to find +out the answer to; but I'll risk her. She's a pink queen, she is, and +after that one waltz with her I can look cold-eyed at a row of Tessie +girls stretchin' from here to the Battery! + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +LANDING ON A SIDE STREET + + +It was a little matter between me and Mother Sykes that starts me off to +hunt a new boardin' place. Lovely old girl, Mother Sykes is, one of the +kind that calls everybody "Deary" and collects in advance every Saturday +night. She's got one of them inquisitive landlady noses that looks like +it was made for pryin' up trunk covers and pokin' into bureau drawers. + +That don't bother me any, though. It's only when I misses my swell +outfit, the one Benny had built for me to wear at his weddin', that I +gets sore. Course, she'd only borrowed it for Pa Sykes to wear on a +Sunday afternoon call, him bein' a little runt of a gent, with watery +eyes and a red nose, that never does anything on his own hook. And if he +hadn't denied it so brassy I shouldn't have called him down so hard, +right in the front hall with half the roomers listenin'. + +"Dreamed it, eh, did I?" says I. "Well, listen here, Sykesy! Next time I +has an optical illusion of you paradin' out in any of my uniform, +there'll be doin's before the Sergeant!" + +Then Mother Sykes rushes up from the kitchen and saves the fam'ly honor +by throwin' an indignation fit. I don't know how long it lasted; but she +was gettin' purple clear up under her false front when I slid out the +door and left her at it. Next day I noticed the sign hung up; but I +didn't know which sky parlor was vacant until I strolls in at +five-fifteen Friday night and finds my things out in the hall and a new +lodger in my room. + +"Oh, well," says I, "what's a sudden move now and then to a free lance +like me?" + +And as there ain't anybody in sight to register my fond farewells with, +I gathers up my suitcase and laundry bag, chucks the latchkey on the +stand in the front hall, and beats it. Not until I'm three blocks away +does I remember that all the cash I've got in my clothes is three +quarters and a dime, which comes of my listenin' to Mallory's advice +about soakin' my roll away in a bloomin' savings bank. + +"Looks like I'd spend the night in a Mills hotel," says I, "unless I +find Mallory and make a touch." + +It was chasin' him up that fetches me over on the West Side and through +one of them nice, respectable, private-house blocks just below 14th-st. +You know the kind, that begin at Fifth-ave. with a double-breasted old +brownstone, and end at Sixth with a delicatessen shop. + +Well, I was moseyin' along quiet and peaceful, wonderin' how long since +anything ever really happened in that partic'lar section, when all of a +sudden I feels about a cupful of cold water strike me in the back of the +neck. + +"Wow!" says I. "Who's playin' me for a goat now?" + +With that I turns and inspects the windows of the house I'd just passed, +knowin' it must be some kid gettin' gay with the passersby. There's no +signs of any cut-up concealed behind the lace curtains, though, and none +of the sashes was raised. If it hadn't been for the way things had been +comin' criss-cross at me, I suppose I'd wiped off my collar and gone +along, lettin' it pass as a joke; but I wa'n't feelin' very mirthful +just then. I'm ready to follow up anything in the trouble line; so I +steps into the area, drops my baggage, shins up over the side of the +front steps, and flattens myself against the off side of the vestibule +door. Then I waits. + +It ain't more'n a minute before I hears the door openin' cautious, and +all I has to do is shove my foot out and throw my weight against the +knob. Somebody lets out a howl of surprise, and in another minute I'm +inside, facin' a twelve-year-old kid armed with a green tin squirt gun. +He's one of these aristocratic-lookin' youngsters, with silky light +hair, big dark eyes, and a sulky mouth. Also he's had somethin' of a +scare thrown into him by being caught so unexpected; but some of his +nerve is still left. + +"You--you get out of here!" he snarls. + +"Not until you've had a dose of what you handed me, sonny," says I. +"Give it up now, Reggie boy!" + +"I won't!" says he. "I--I'll have you thrown out!" + +"You will, eh?" says I, makin' a rush for him. + +"O-o-o-oh, Aunty, Aunty!" he squeals, dashin' down the hall. + +Now, say, the way I was feelin' then, I'd have gone up against a whole +fam'ly, big brothers included; so a little thing like a call for Aunty +don't stop me at all. As he turns into the room on the left I'm only a +jump behind, and all that fetches me up is when he does a dive behind an +old lady in a big leather chair. She's a wide, heavy old party, with a +dinky white cap on her white hair, and kind of a resigned, patient look +on her face. Someway, she acts like she was more or less used to +surprises like this; for she don't seem much excited. + +"Why, Hadley!" she remarks. "Whatever is the matter now?" + +"He--he chased me into the house!" whines Master Hadley from behind the +chair. + +"Did you?" says the old girl. + +"Sure," says I. "He's too blamed fresh!" + +"There, there!" says she. "You mustn't speak that way of Hadley. He is +only a little boy, you know." + +"Yes'm," says I. + +"And he was only indulging in innocent play," she goes on. "Come, +Hadley, untie me now. Please, Hadley!" + +Say, I hadn't noticed it before, but the old girl is roped solid, feet +and arms, to the chair legs, and it's clear that when nobody was goin' +by for little Hadley to shoot at he'd been usin' Aunty for a target. The +damp spots on the wall behind the chair and one or two on her dress +showed that. + +"I won't, unless you'll call Maggie and have her throw him out!" growls +Hadley. + +"Oh, come, Hadley, be a good boy!" coaxes Aunty. + +"Sha'n't!" says Hadley. "And next time I'll shoot ink at you." + +"Now, Hadley!" protests Aunty. + +"Excuse me, lady," says I, "but it looks to me like there was something +comin' to Hadley that I ought to tend to. This ain't on my account, +either, but yours. Now watch. Hi, freshy!" and I makes another dash for +him. + +Well, he knows the lay of the land better'n I do, and he's quick on the +dodge, so we has a lively time of it for a couple of minutes, him +throwin' chairs in my way and hurdlin' sofas, Aunty beggin' us to quit +and callin' for Maggie, and me keepin' right on the job. But at last I +got him cornered. He makes a desp'rate duck and tries to butt me; but I +catches his head under my arm and down he goes on the rug. I'd just +yanked the squirt gun out of his hand and was emptyin' it down the back +of his neck, with him hollerin' blue murder, and Aunty strugglin' to get +loose, when the front door opens and in walks a couple of ladies, one +old and the other young. + +And, say, you talk about your excitin' tableaux! In about two shakes +there's all kinds of excitement; for it seems one of the new arrivals is +Hadley's mommer, and she proceeds to join the riot. + +"Oh, my darling boy! My darling!" she sings out. "What is happening! He +is being killed! Oh, he is being killed!" + +"G'wan!" says I, gettin' up and exhibitin' the squirt gun. "I was only +handin' him some of the same sport he's been dealin' out to others. +It'll do him good." + +"You--you young scoundrel!" says mommer. Then, turnin' to the old lady +who came in with her, she gasps out, "Zenobia, telephone for the +police!" + +It's the real thing, too, and no flossy bluff about the lady's grouch. +She's a swell, haughty-lookin' party, and she acts like she was used to +havin' her own way about things. So the prospects begin to look squally. +Not that I'm one to curl up and shiver at sight of a cop. Give me plenty +of room to do the hotfoot act, and I don't mind guyin' any of them +pavement-pounders; but with me shut up in a house where I hadn't been +invited in, and a bunch of excited females as witnesses against me, it's +a diff'rent proposition. This was no time to weaken, though. + +"Go ahead," says I. "Double six-O-four-two Gramercy; that's the green +light number for this district. And Uncle Patrick'll be glad to see you. +Tell him you got charges to make on his nephew. That'll tickle him to +death. Maybe I'll have something to say when we all get there, too." + +"What do you mean?" says Hadley's mother. + +"Counter complaint, that's all," says I. "Your little darling soaked me +first." + +"It--it isn't true!" says she. "I don't believe it!" + +And here Zenobia comes in with the soothin' advice. She's another +whitehaired old lady, lookin' something like the one in the chair, only +not so bulky and with more ginger about her. "Now, Sally," says she, +"let's not talk of calling in the police over a trifle. Hadley doesn't +appear to be hurt, and possibly he was somewhat at fault." + +"The idea!" says Sally. "Why, I saw this young ruffian pommeling him. +And look! Martha is bound in her chair. He's a burglar!" + +Oh, they had a great debate amongst 'em, Aunt Martha fin'lly admittin' +it was just a little prank of Hadley's, her being roped down; but she +was sure I had tried to murder him, just for nothing at all. Hadley says +so too. In fact, he tells seven diff'rent yarns in as many minutes, each +one makin' me out worse than the last. + +"There!" says his mother. "Now, Zenobia, will you send for an officer?" + +Nope, Zenobia wouldn't; anyway, not until she had more facts to go on. +She don't deny that maybe I'm kind of a suspicious-lookin' character, +and says it ain't been explained what I was doin' in there holdin' +little Hadley on the rug; but she don't want to ring up the cops unless +it's a clear case. + +"You know, my dear," she winds up with, "Hadley is quite apt to get into +trouble." + +"Zenobia Preble!" snorts Sally, her eyes blazin'. "And he your own flesh +and blood! Come, precious, mother will take you home, and you shall +never, never come to this house again!" + +"There, Sally," begins Zenobia, "don't fly into a----" + +"When my husband's mother chooses to insult me in her own home," says +Sally, "I hope I have spirit enough to resent it!" + +Say, she had that and some left over. Inside of two minutes she's +hustled little Hadley into his things, and out they sails to her +carriage, leavin' the makin's of a first-class fam'ly row all prepared. + +In the meantime Zenobia is tyin' Aunt Martha loose, and I'm standin' +around waitin' to see what's goin' to happen to me next. Course, I +expects the third degree; but she begins with Martha. + +"Now what mischief was Hadley up to this time?" she asks. + +And Martha sticks to it that it was nothing at all. He merely found that +old plant-sprayer and discovered that by unscrewing the nozzle it made a +fine squirt gun. To be sure, she had asked him not to use the water from +the goldfish globe; but he just would. Also he'd insisted on locking all +the servants downstairs, and when she tried to amuse him in other ways +he'd tied her to the chair. + +But it was just Hadley's innocent fun. He hadn't harmed anyone, even if +he did squirt a little water on the postman and a delivery boy. She had +not minded it herself, and no one had been rude to him until I'd come +chasing in and handled him so rough. That was an outrage, and Martha +thought I ought to get a life sentence for it. + +"Humph!" says Zenobia, turnin' to me. "Now, young man, what have you got +to say?" + +"Ah, what's the use?" says I. "You've got the whole story now. I'd do +the same again." + +"Relying on the fact that your uncle is a police captain?" says she. + +"Nah," says I. "That was hot air." + +"There, Zenobia!" says Martha. "I told you he was a bad boy." + +"Are you?" says Zenobia. + +"Well," says I, "that all depends on how you size me up. I ain't in the +crook class, nor I don't wear any Sunday-school medals, either." + +"Who are you?" says she. + +"Why, just Torchy," says I. "See--torch, Torchy," and I points to my +sunset coiffure. + +"But who are your parents?" she goes on. + +"Don't own any," says I. "I'm a double orphan and rustlin' for myself." + +"Where do you live?" says she. + +"Why," says I, "I don't live anywhere just now. I'm movin'; but I don't +know where to." + +"I suppose that is either impudence or epigram," says she; "but never +mind. Perhaps you will tell me where you work?" + +"I don't work at all," says I. "I'm head office boy for the Corrugated +Trust, and it's a cinch job." + +"Indeed!" says she. "The Corrugated Trust? Let me see, who is at the +head of that concern?" + +"Say," says I, "you don't mean you never heard of Old Hickory Ellins or +Mr. Robert, do you?" + +She kind of smiles at that; but dodges makin' any answer. + +"Well," says I, "do I get pinched, or just given the run? Either way, +I've got some baggage down by the area door that ought to be looked +after." + +"Why, certainly, I will have it----" then she stops and looks me over +sort of shrewd. "Suppose," she starts in again, "you go and get it +yourself?" + +"Sure!" says I, and it ain't until I'm outside that I sees this is just +her way of tryin' me out; for I has a fine chance to beat it. "Nix!" +thinks I. "I might as well see this thing through and get a decision." +So back I goes with the suitcase and laundry bag. She hadn't even +followed me to the door. + +"Ah!" says she, lookin' up. "You weren't afraid to come back, then. +Why?" + +"Oh, I guess it was because I banked on your givin' me a square deal," +says I. + +That gets a grin out of her. "Thank you very much for the compliment," +says she. "I may say that the inquisition is over. However, I should +like to have you remain a little longer, if you care to. Won't you leave +your things in the hall there? Your hat and overcoat too." + +"Zenobia," says Martha, wakin' up, "surely you are not going to----" + +"Precisely," says Zenobia. "I am going to ask him to stay for dinner +with us. Will you?" + +"Yep!" says I. "I never let any free eats get by me." + +"But," gasps Martha, "you don't know who he is?" + +"Neither does he know us," says Zenobia. "Torchy, I am Mrs. Zenobia +Preble. This is my sister, Miss Martha Hadley. She is very good, I am +very wicked, and we are both women of mature years. You will probably +find our society rather dull; but the dinner is likely to be fairly +good. Besides, I am feeling somewhat indebted to you." + +"It's a go," says I, "if I can have a chance to wash up first." + +"Of course," says she. Then she gives me a key and directions how to +find a certain door on the third floor. "My son's quarters," she goes +on, "that I have kept just as he left them twenty years ago. I shall +expect you to make yourself quite at home there." + +Do I? Why, say, it's a back joint such as you might dream about: two +rooms and bath across the front of the house, guns and swords and such +knickknacks on the walls, a desk, a lot of books, and even a bathrobe +and slippers laid out. Say, while I was scrubbin' off some of the +inkstains and smoothin' down my hair with the silver-backed brushes I +felt like a young blood gettin' ready for a party. + +Then after awhile I strolls down to the lib'ry and makes myself to home +some more. It's a comf'table place, with lots of big easy-chairs, nice +pictures on the wall, and no end of bookshelves. The old ladies has +cleared out, not even lockin' up any of the curios or sendin' a maid to +watch me. + +And when it comes to the feed--why, say, it's a reg'lar course dinner, +such as you'd put up a dollar for at any of these high-class table dotty +ranches. Funny old china they had too, and a big silver coffeepot right +on the table. The only bad break I makes is just at the start, when I +dives into the soup without noticin' that Aunt Martha has her head down +and is mumblin' something about bein' thankful. + +"Never mind," says Mrs. Preble. "We aren't included in this, anyway." + +That begins the talk. I ain't put through the wringer, you understand, +but just follows Zenobia while she goes from one thing to another, +givin' her opinions of 'em and now and then callin' for mine. We got +real chatty too, and once in awhile she stops to laugh real hearty, +though I couldn't see where I'd got off any crack at all. + +Near as I can make out, Zenobia is a lively old girl for her age. She's +seen all the best Broadway shows, knows what's goin' on in town, and +reads the papers reg'lar. Also it comes out that she don't follow the +kind of programme you generally look for antiques to stick to. She ain't +got any use for churches, charity institutions, society, or the +suffragettes. All of which seems to shock Sister Martha, who don't say +much, but only shudders now and then. + +"You see, Torchy," says Zenobia, droppin' two lumps into her demitasse, +"I am an unbeliever. I don't even believe in growing old. When I hear of +other persons who have come to disbelieve in established things, no +matter what, I send for them and find out all about it across the dinner +table. We discuss art, religion, politics, goodness knows what. We +denounce things, from the existing social order, to the tariff on +stockings. My sister, who believes in everything as it is, usually takes +a nap and snores." + +"Zenobia!" says Martha. + +"Oh, not in a disturbing way," says Zenobia. "And I'm sure I almost do +the same whenever your friend the rector is here. Torchy, have you ever +been talked to about your soul?" + +"Once when I drifted into a mission a guy sprung that on me," says I. + +"Yes?" says Zenobia. "What then?" + +"I told him to go chase himself," says I. + +Hearty chuckles from Zenobia, while Sister Martha turns pale and gasps. + +Next thing I know I'm tellin' Mrs. Preble about my fallin' out with +Mother Sykes, and how I guess I'd better be pikin' up to engage a +thirty-cent room until I can draw on my reserve and locate a new +boardin' place. + +And, say, what do you guess that conversation leads up to? Well, it +struck me all in a heap at the time, though I didn't let on; but I +couldn't figure out the answer until I'd had a talk with Mr. Robert next +day. + +"Say, Mr. Robert," says I. "You don't happen to know an old party by the +name of Zenobia Preble, do you?" + +"I do," says he. "It isn't exactly an accident, either. She is a cousin +of my father." + +"Gee!" says I. "Cousin to the old--to the boss! Wh-e-ew!" + +"Rather an original old lady, Zenobia," says Mr. Robert. "And I +understand, from a talk I had with her over the 'phone early last +evening, that she was arbitrating the case of a young man who was in +some danger of arrest in her home. How did it come out, Torchy?" + +"Ah, say, you're on, ain't you?" says I. "Well, it was a verdict for the +defense, because I promised to do it again if I ever got the chance." + +Mr. Robert grins. "That grandson of hers is certainly a holy terror," +says he. "You and Zenobia parted friends, then?" + +"Not yet," says I. "We ain't parted at all. I'm stayin' as a trial +boarder." + +"What!" says he, sittin' up. "Oh, I see. An experiment in practical +sociology, eh?" + +"Maybe that's it," says I. "Anyway, it depends on whether or not I can +stand Aunt Martha." + +And when I leaves Mr. Robert he still has his mouth open. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +FIRST AID FOR THE MAIN STEM + + +Well, I ain't been adopted yet; but it's the next thing to it. Me and +Zenobia are gettin' to understand each other better every day. And, say, +for a ripe old party, she's younger in her mind than lots of folks I +know who ain't lived half so long. Maybe she did do her first travelin' +up and down Broadway in a horse stage; but that ain't the way she wants +to cover the ground now. What do you think she springs at the dinner +table the other night? Says she's goin' to the next aviation meet and +hire some one to take her up for an aëroplane ride. + +"Why, Zenobia!" says Sister Martha, so shocked her white frizzes almost +stand up and wiggle. + +That's Martha's cue, all right. She don't seem to get used to Zenobia's +ways, although they've been livin' together all these years. A genuine, +consistent antique, Sister Martha is, who still likes to talk about the +time when Horace Greeley ran for President. Accordin' to her +conversation the last real sensation that came her way was when she +went over to Brooklyn and heard Henry Ward Beecher preach. + +But even Martha ain't no worse when you get to know her. She's a +harmless, well meanin' old soul, and I'm 'most beginnin' to believe +she's pretty near as pious as she thinks she is. Anyway, it ain't any +Sunday pose with her. She lugs her religion right through the week, +holidays and all, and spreads it around even. I got it straight from +Zenobia that Martha's even begun ringin' me into her goodnight prayers, +along with the cook and the President. + +Also Martha has started in on what she calls my moral trainin', which +she dopes out as havin' been neglected somethin' shameful. Whenever +Zenobia ain't around to interrupt, I get a Jonah story, or a Sampson and +Delilah hair cuttin' yarn pumped into me, and if there ain't any cogs +missin' in her scheme I ought to be buddin' a soul before long. + +"Torchy," says she real solemn the other night, "I hope you do not use +profane language. Do you?" + +"Well," says I, "when I was on the Sunday editor's door I did used to +think I could put over a few gingery ones; but since I've been with the +Corrugated Trust I've kind of got out of practice." + +"Ah!" says she, beamin'. "That is good, very good! Your associations +are better; is that it?" + +"Mainly it's on account of Mr. Ellins," says I. "Maybe you never +happened to hear him; but, say, you ought to be there some mornin' when +he limps in with the gout in both feet and a hang-over grouch from the +day before! Cuss! Why, after listenin' to him grow real enthusiastic +once, I got discouraged. What's the use? thinks I." + +Well, someway that gives Martha an awful jolt; for maybe you remember my +tellin' how it turns out that her and Zenobia are second cousins to Old +Hickory. She says how she's pained and mortified beyond words to learn +that Mr. Ellins should allow his employees to hear him use such +language. + +"Ah, that's all right," says I. "As long as it ain't fired at 'em, +nobody feels bad. Mostly they grins, except now and then a new lady +typewriter who squirms and turns pale. He don't whisper when he's +cussin', Mr. Ellins don't." + +"Shocking!" says Sister Martha. "Does--does he do this often?" + +"It all depends on how he's feelin'," says I; "but for the past week or +ten days he's been at it pretty reg'lar. I expect he's been havin' a +worse siege than usual." + +Oh, me and Martha had a real heart to heart talk that night, and when I +fin'lly goes up to my top floor suite I leaves her fannin' herself and +gaspin' for breath. But she'd asked for facts, and I'd handed 'em over. +How was I to guess what was goin' to be the follow up on that? + +Not expectin' anything more'n instructions about some errand or other, I +ain't any disturbed when Piddie comes up to the gate desk right after +lunch next day, lookin' as stern and solemn as if he'd been sent to read +a warrant. + +"Boy," says he, "Mr. Ellins, senior, wishes to see you in his private +office!" + +"Well, that ain't surprisin', is it, Piddie?" says I. "You don't suppose +we can talk over big affairs like ours out here, do you? Keep your ear +off the keyhole, too!" And with that I goes in chipper and cheerful. + +The minute I gets through the last door, though, I feels the frost in +the air. Mr. Ellins, he lets me wait long enough for the chill to strike +in, while he signs a basketful of letters. Then he swings around in his +swivel chair and proceeds to size me up through them gunmetal gray eyes +of his. Say, it was like standin' in front of a searchlight and under a +cold shower, all at once. + +"So, young man!" says he. "You have been hearing me swear, eh?" + +That's enough for me. Just from that I can sketch the whole plot. And +it don't take me a month to figure out the line of talk I'm goin' to +use. What's the sense in playin' for time when your blue ticket's all +made out. + +"Heard you?" says I. "Think I wear my ears full of putty?" + +"Huh!" he grunts. "And do I understand that you disapprove of my +profanity?" + +"Ah, who's been fillin' you up?" says I. "Why, you're an artist at it." + +"Thanks," says he. "And I suppose you felt it your duty to inform my +relatives of the fact? Very thoughtful of you, I'm sure." + +"Don't mention it," says I. + +"You--you're an impertinent young whelp!" says he, his cheeks gettin' +purple and puffy. + +"Ah, don't mind the frills," says I. "Get out the can. I'm fired, ain't +I?" + +"No!" he shouts, bangin' his fist down on the desk. "At least, not until +I get through with you. What I want to know is why in blue belted blazes +you did it!" + +"Well," says I, "first off I guess it just naturally slipped out; then, +when I saw what a hit I was makin' with Martha--why, I expect I sort of +enjoyed givin' her the details." + +Somehow, that seems to graze his funnybone, and he has a struggle to +keep a grin out of his mouth corners. "Humph!" says he. "I--I'd like to +have seen her then. So you went on to describe the general state of my +health, did you?" + +"It was you we was chattin' about," says I. + +"Fascinating topic, I've no doubt," he growls; "but I hardly appreciate +the attention. Understand?" + +"That's breakin' on me gradual," says I. + +"Fortunately for you, though," he goes on, "you didn't attempt to lie +out of it. By the way, why didn't you?" + +"And her just after givin' you the whole game over the 'phone?" says I. +"Ah, say!" + +"Young man," says he, shootin' over the quizzin' gaze, "either you are +too blickety blinked fresh to keep, or else you're too keen to lose; +hanged if I know which! But--er--well, I'll take a chance. You may go +out and report to Mr. Piddie for duty." + +"It'll near break his heart," says I. + +It does, too. I expect from what he'd heard in the private office that +he was figurin' on handin' me my hat as I was shot out and remarkin' +that he knew all along it was comin' to me. Then there'd be a rollcall +of new office boys, with him pickin' out one more to his taste than me. +But no such luck for him. + +"Cheer up, Piddie," says I. "I'll have the warden send you an invitation +when they fin'lly get me right." + +Course, I don't make any squeal at the house about my narrow escape; for +I knew Martha only meant it for the best. Next day Mr. Ellins don't show +up at the office at all, and that evenin' Martha is better posted on his +condition than I am. She's been busy on the wire again, this time +locatin' him at home. + +"My poor cousin," says she, "is in a wretched state. He has been +overworking, I fear, and seems to be a nervous wreck. That will account, +I have no doubt, for his recent lapses into profanity. He feels rather +ashamed of himself; but perhaps I should make allowances. What he needs +is rest and quiet. Luckily, I happened to know just the place for him +and was able to persuade him to go there at once. He started this +afternoon." + +It's called the Wesley Restorium, Martha says, and is run by an old +friend of hers who used to be a missionary doctor in China. He's an +awfully good man, and she's sure he'll help Mr. Ellins a lot. Besides, +his place is only about fifty miles off, over in North Jersey; so Mr. +Ellins could make the run easy in his limousine. + +Well, that leaves only Mr. Robert, Piddie, and me to manage the +Corrugated, and we was all bearin' up under the load well enough except +Piddie; when along about two o'clock there's a long distance call from +the Main Stem, and a few minutes later Mr. Robert sends out for me. + +"Torchy," says he, "you seem to be elected. The governor wants you." + +"Me?" says I. + +"Yes," says Mr. Robert. "I don't exactly understand why. He is at a +sanatorium, you know, and we had arranged to send up his private +secretary with the important mail this afternoon; but he says he wants +you. Says you're responsible for his being there--whatever that means." + +"I'm on," says I. "When do I start?" + +There's a train at three-thirty-four; so that gives me time to chase +around to the house after a grip, then back to the office to gather up a +bundle of late letters, and pike for Jersey City. And at that it's five +o'clock before I'm landed at a little flag station umpteen miles beyond +nowhere. My! but the north end of Jersey has some up and down to it, +though! From what I'd heard I thought the State was all meadows; but +here I am carted in a four-horse bus up the side of a hill that's twice +as tall as the Metropolitan tower. + +Say, I never saw so much country spread out all at once before--nothing +but hills and trees, and no signs of houses anywhere. Made me so blamed +lonesome lookin' at it that I had to shut my eyes for a spell. And when +we gets to the top there's a big shack like a new set of car barns, +with hundreds of windows, and big wide veranda all around. It looks as +homy and cheerful as the Art Museum. The lawn is full of rocks and +stumps, and the few little flowerbeds that have been laid out looked +lost and homesick. + +Pacin' up and down the verandas, like animals in a cage, was about fifty +people, and over at one end, all by himself, looms up Old Hickory, +lookin' big and ugly and disgusted with life. + +"Well!" he growls. "So you got here, eh? Hope you like it as well as I +do. Bring that mail inside." + +While he's more or less grouchy, he don't act any more like a nervous +wreck than usual. I take it that he was some tired when he got up here +night before; but that he cut out dinner and turned in for a good +twelve-hour snooze instead. Then he's had a quiet day, and I judge he +was a lot better already. + +He's just got well into his letters, when an attendant guy in a white +duck uniform steps in and taps him on the shoulder. + +"Well?" says Old Hickory. + +"Vesper service is beginning in the chapel, sir," says the gent. + +"Let it begin, then," says Mr. Ellins. + +"But," says the gent, "it is usual for guests to----" + +"It isn't for me!" snaps Mr. Ellins. "You get out!" + +And the gent got out. + +We could hear 'em singin' hymns and so on for half an hour; but Mr. +Ellins keeps right on goin' through his mail and makin' notes on the +envelops until six o'clock, when a big gong rings. + +"Thank heaven! Dinner!" says he. "Come on, Torchy; I'm hungry enough to +eat a bale of hay!" Then he's hardly got into his chair in the dinin' +room before he's snapping his fingers for a waiter. "Hey!" he sings out. +"Bring me a dry Martini right away, and a pint of Château Yquem with the +fish." + +"Excuse me," says the waiter, "but there isn't anything like that on the +bill of fare. If it's something to drink you want, you can order +buttermilk, which is extra." + +"Buttermilk!" snorts Old Hickory. "Say, where's the proprietor? Send him +over here!" + +He didn't have to call him twice; for the boss of the Restorium had +heard the row and was glidin' our way as fast as his rubber heels would +let him. He's a short legged, pop eyed, red faced party, wearin' cute +white side whiskers, a black Prince Albert, and a minister's necktie. + +"Gently, gently," says he, pattin' the air with his hands and puckering +his mouth. "Remember to speak softly in the dining room." + +"All right, Doc," says Mr. Ellins; "but I want a cocktail." + +"Tut, tut, brother!" says the Doc, liftin' a warnin' finger and raisin' +his eyebrows. "No intoxicating liquors served here, you know. Now a +glass of nice buttermilk is just what----" + +"Bah! Buttermilk!" snorts Hickory. "Think I come from a dairy?" + +The Doc does his best to soothe him down and fin'lly persuades him to +tackle his mutton broth without the Martini. It's a good enough feed; +but kind of plain, about what you'd get in one of these Eighth-ave. +joints, four courses for thirty-five cents. Mr. Ellins gets left again +when he calls for a demitasse after the tapioca pudding. Nothing doing +in the coffee line. + +"Huh!" he grunts. "I suppose I may smoke, eh?" + +"On the north veranda, from seven until eight-fifteen," says the waiter. + +"Well, I'll be--blistered!" says Old Hickory. + +While he's burnin' a couple of black perfectos out on the smoke +reservation, I roams around the Restorium. It's furnished neat and +simple, with lots of varnished woodwork and a few framed railroad photos +on the walls. In the parlor was four or five groups of women in rockin' +chairs, talkin' low and doin' fancy-work. Most of the men were tiptoein' +up and down the veranda. They was a stoop shouldered, dyspeptic lookin' +lot. Down in the basement in a place labeled "Recreation Room," a couple +of checker games was in progress, and four gents was shovin' weights up +and down the shuffleboard. Yes, it was a perfectly good place to be +quiet in. I could guess why Hickory Ellins had begun to show signs of +bein' restless. By eight o'clock he comes marchin' in and up to the +office desk. + +"Where's the billiard room?" says he. + +"There is no billiard room, brother," says the Doc, steppin' to the +front. "Here we have eliminated all of those things that might disturb +our beautiful peace and quiet." + +"Have, eh?" grunts Hickory. "Then where can I find three others to make +up a bridge game?" + +"Card playing," says the Doc, putting his thumb and forefingers +together, "is not allowed in the Restorium." + +"Sorrowing sisters by the sea!" remarks Mr. Ellins. "No billiards! No +cards! Say, what the merry Mithridates do you think I'm going to do with +myself from now until twelve o'clock, eh?" + +"By referring to the rules of this establishment, Mr. Ellins," says the +Doc, speakin' cold and reprovin', "you will see that the general +retiring hour is fixed at nine-thirty. At nine-forty-five the gas is all +turned off." + +"What!" roars Hickory. "Think you're going to put me to bed at +nine-thirty?" + +"You are at liberty to sit up in the dark, if you choose," the Doc comes +back at him. "Any guest who is dissatisfied with the manner in which the +Restorium is conducted has the option of leaving." + +"Well, say!" says Mr. Ellins, thumpin' the desk earnest, "I am +dissatisfied! Buttermilk and vesper services! Huh! Do you suppose I've +paid two weeks in advance for such a dose? Where's your 'phone?" + +With that he calls up New York, gets his chauffeur on the wire, and +orders him to have the car here first thing in the morning, even if he +has to start before light. + +"And what is more," says Mr. Ellins, walkin' back to the Doc, "I propose +to buy the rest of this hill and open a real live hotel as close to your +place as I can put it. There'll be something going on in it all the +time, if I have to make everything free, and you can bet your last +dollar the wine list will have something besides buttermilk on it! +There'll be billiard tables, bowling alleys, a dance hall, and a brass +band playing all night. I'll fix your beautiful peace and quiet for +you!" + +The Doc, he smiles a kind of sanctified smile and points to the clock. +"In just forty-five minutes," says he, "the lights go out." + +That's all the satisfaction Mr. Ellins gets, too; so he takes me in tow +and we beat it 'steen times around the verandas, him stating his +opinions of restoriums in general, Cousin Martha in partic'lar, and now +and then shootin' a sarcastic remark at me. But when he sees the other +victims begin sneakin' off one by one he growls out: + +"Well, son, I suppose they'll be locking us out if we don't follow suit. +Get the keys to our rooms." + +First off I thought I could have a great snooze; but it's such a blamed +quiet place that I found myself wide awake, with my ear strained to see +if I couldn't hear something. After an hour or so of that, I gets up and +sits by the open window; but as there ain't any moon or any street +lights, it's like starin' down a coalhole. + +I was wondering if the country was always as black as that at night, and +what would happen to anyone that strayed out into it, when all of a +sudden I hears a window raised, and way down in the basement under the +dining room I sees a bright light shinin' out. "Hello!" thinks I. "Some +of the help must be bustin' the rules and regulations." + +By leanin' out and rubberin' I could look down into the room. And, say, +the shock almost tumbled me out. For there's the Doc sittin' in his +shirtsleeves with four other gents around a green topped table decorated +with stacks of chips. The Doc is just dealin', and before the shade is +pulled down again I had time to see him reach under the lower deck and +haul up a decanter that might have been full of cold tea. + +Well, say, I don't do a thing but hustle into my clothes and chase down +the corridor to Mr. Ellins' room. Is he int'rested in the tale? He's all +of that. + +"Torchy," says he, "if you can lead me down to that game, I--I'll +forgive you. Perhaps I'll do better than that." + +I used up half a box of matches findin' the way; but at last we located +the light comin' through the transom. + +"Good work!" he whispers. "Now you go back to bed and enjoy a long +night's rest." + +Sure I did--not. I wouldn't have missed hearin' that exchange of happy +greetin's for a farm. And the way the Doc chokes up and splutters tryin' +to explain things was somethin' lovely. He was gettin' himself as +twisted as a pretzel, when Old Hickory breaks in. + +"That's all right, Doc," says he. "Innocent little relaxation. I +understand perfectly. Now, what's the ante?" + +Well, after that the conversation wasn't so excitin'; nothing but, "I'll +take three cards," or "Raise you two more blues." So I sneaks back and +falls into the hay once more. + +At breakfast Mr. Ellins shows up more smilin' and chipper than I'd ever +seen him anywhere before. He puts away three soft boiled eggs, a couple +of lamb chops, and two cups of coffee made special for him. The Doc he +follows us out to the limousine. + +"Sorry to have you go so soon, Mr. Ellins," says he, rubbin' one hand +over the other, "very sorry indeed, sir. And--er--about those memoranda +from my assistants. I will see that they are redeemed, you know." + +"Those I O U's?" says Mr. Ellins. "Oh, you tell the boys I tore 'em up. +Yours, too, Doctor. I had my fun out of the game. So long." + +And for the next four miles Old Hickory don't do much but gaze out on +the landscape and chuckle. + +"Was that a bluff about buildin' that hotel?" says I after awhile. + +"Well," says Mr. Ellins, "not exactly; but I think I shall present the +Restorium with a pipe organ instead." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +IN ON THE OOLONG + + +Course it was a cinch; but Piddie ain't got done wonderin' yet how I did +it. I can tell that by the puzzled way he has of lookin' me over when he +thinks I ain't noticin'. + +You see, we'd been havin' a quiet week at the Corrugated. This fine +spell of weather has braced Old Hickory up until he almost forgets how +he's cast himself for the great grouch collector. Things must have been +runnin' smooth, too; for he can even read about the Return from Elba +plans without chuckin' the mornin' paper into the waste basket and +gettin' purple behind the ears. + +Then, all of a sudden here the other afternoon, Piddie comes trottin' +out of the private office all flustered up and begins pawin' excited +through the big bond safe. He's hardly got started at that before there +comes three rings on the buzzer for him, and he trots back to see what +the old man wants now. Next there are hurry calls for the general +auditor and the head of the contract department, and before Mr. Ellins +gets through he's had every chief in the shop up on the carpet and put +'em through the third degree. Way out by my gate I could hear him layin' +down the law to 'em, and they comes out lookin' wild and worried. + +Which don't get me excited any at all. I worked in the newspaper office +too long and saw too many Sunday editions go to press for that. So when +I hears him yell for me I don't jump over the desk and get goose flesh +up the back. I keeps right on snappin' rubber bands at the spring water +bottle until he's shouted a couple more times. Then I winks at the row +of lady typists and strolls in, calm and easy. + +"Yes, sir?" says I. + +"See here, boy!" says he. "Do you happen by any chance to know where +that son of mine might be found at this moment?" + +"Mr. Robert?" says I. "Nix." + +"No, of course you don't!" says Old Hickory, glarin' at me. "No one +around this precious asylum for undeveloped cerebellums seems to know +anything they ought to. Bah!" + +"Yes, sir," says I. + +"Don't grin at me that way!" he snaps. "Get out! No, stay where you are! +If you don't know where Robert is, where do you think he might be +found?" + +"Tried any of his clubs?" says I. + +He had, all of 'em. Also he'd had him paged through four hotel grill +rooms and called up three brokers' offices. + +"Well, if he ain't havin' a late lunch, or playin' billiards, or +watchin' the stock board, I give it up," says I. "Maybe you've noticed +that Mr. Robert ain't been in many afternoons lately." + +"Huh! Perhaps I haven't, though!" grunts Old Hickory. "But this time it +is important that he should be here. Young man, you seem to have less +wool on your wits than most of the office force; so I am going to +confide to you that unless we find Robert before four-thirty o'clock +this afternoon the Corrugated Trust Company will lose a lot of money." + +"Oh, if it's a case of savin' the next dividend," says I, "I'll take +another think. I expect you asked for him at the house?" + +"He was there at one-fifteen and left twenty minutes later," says Mr. +Ellins. + +"Yes; but what kind of clothes was he wearin'?" says I. + +"Clothes!" snorts out Old Hickory. "What the blithering----" + +"Lemme ask his man," says I, grabbin' the desk 'phone. "Plaza--yes, +Plaza, double O double three sixty-one. Sure! You got it. Say, Mr. +Ellins, that butler of yours don't burn the carpet movin' fast, does he? +He must----Hello! I want to talk to Walters. Ah, never mind who I am, +switch him on!" And inside of two minutes I have the report. "Frock coat +and silk lid," says I. "See? Society date." + +"Huh!" says the old man. "That settles it. He's tagging around after +that young lady violinist again. Might have guessed; for since she's +come back from Paris he has taken about as much interest in business as +a cat does in astronomy. But to-morrow morning we'll----" + +"Say," I breaks in, "if it's a case of young lady, why not locate her +and then scout for Mr. Robert in the neighborhood? That ought to be +easy." + +"Think so?" says he. "Well, young man, you have my permission to tackle +the job. Her name is Inez Webster. I don't know where she lives, or with +whom she's staying; but she's somewhere in New York. Now, how will you +begin?" + +"By rubberin' at Mr. Robert's date pad," says I. + +"Good!" says Old Hickory. "No one else thought of that," and he leads +the way in and unlocks Mr. Robert's rolltop. "Now what do those +scratches mean?" + +"I. W. 2:15," says I, readin' it off. "The arrow points to Inez. He must +be with her now." + +"Wherever that is!" growls Mr. Ellins. "Go on." + +"Say, lemme think a minute," says I, slippin' into the swing chair and +doin' the Sherlock gaze at the desk. + +"Oh, certainly!" says he, snappy and sarcastic. "Take a nap over it! +Plenty of time!" and with that he pads back into his office and slams +the door. + +Now I didn't like pawin' through the pigeon-holes or drawers; but when I +happens to glance at the waste basket I feels more at home. In a jiffy I +has it dumped on the rug. There was an empty cigarette box, the usual +collection of circulars, a dozen torn business letters, and so on. It +looked like a hopeless hunt, too, until I runs across this invitation +card announcin' that the Misses Pulsifer will be at home from +two-fifteen until five-thirty. There's a Fort Washington Road address, +and down in one corner it says "music." Also to-day's the day. + +"Whoop!" says I, stowin' away the card. "Me for the Misses Pulsifers' on +a long shot. Hey, Mr. Ellins!" I shouts, stickin' my head in the door. +"Can I draw two bones for expense money? I'm on the trail." + +"The blazes you are!" says he. + +"Yep," says I. "Mebbe it's a false scent; but if I find him what's the +message?" + +"Just ask Robert," says he, "if it has occurred to him that those P. K. +& Q. contract copies have got to be filed with the bonding company this +afternoon. That's all." + +"Right!" says I. "P. K. & Q. contracts. I'm off." + +Ever get as far up into the northwest corner of the island as Fort +Washington Road? Then you know how many blocks it is from the nearest +subway station. Not havin' time for a half-hour stroll, I takes a +Broadway express, jumps it at 157th, hunts up a taxi, and turns down the +red flag. + +"Now don't try zigzaggin' around to roll up mileage," says I to the +shuffer; "but beat it straight there." + +Some swell places up in that neck of Manhattan, what? Why, some of them +folks has so much back yard they keep their own cow. When we rolls in +through a pair of big stone gates I begin to suspect that the Misses +Pulsifers was lady plutes for fair, and the size of the house had me +stunned. + +"I'm swell lookin' front door comp'ny, I am," thinks I, handin' over a +dollar thirty to the taxi pirate and paradin' in across the red carpet. +"Now what is it I tell the butler when he pushes out his tray?" + +All the guard they has on the door, though, is a French maid, and when +she starts to look me over suspicious I shoves the invitation card at +her. + +"Say, Marie," says I, "where's the doin's?" + +"Pardon?" says she. "What you wish?" + +"Ah, where do they keep the music?" says I. + +"Ze musicale?" says she. "It is commence. S-s-s-sh!" and she points down +the hallway. + +"Yes, I was afraid I'd be late," says I. "Glad they didn't wait. I'll +sneak into a back seat." + +Did I? Well, say, I didn't know what I was runnin' into; for as I pushes +through some draperies I finds myself on the side lines of the biggest +herd of girls I ever saw collected in one room before. Why, there was +rows and rows of 'em, all in white dresses, and the minute I steps in +about two hundred pairs of eyes revolves my way. + +Talk about jumpin' into the limelight! I felt like I'd wandered out on +the stage while the big scene was goin' on. Then comes the giggles, and +business with the elbows of passin' the nudge along. They all forgets +what's doin' up on the platform by the piano and pays strict attention +to me. Blush? Say, I'll bet my ears ain't got back their reg'lar color +yet! + +Seemed like my feet was stuck to the floor, too. Maybe it was an hour I +stood there, and maybe it was only a minute; but at last I takes one +wild look around over that girl convention and then I backs out. I'd +seen him, though. Way over by an open window on the other side was Mr. +Robert, one of the four men in that whole crowd. So out the front door I +rushes and then tiptoes around the veranda until I came to him. + +And he wa'n't gazin' around watchin' for casual butters-in. Not Mr. +Robert! All he's seein' is the slim young lady standin' up on the +platform with the violin tucked under her chin. You couldn't blame him +much, either; for, while I ain't any judge of the sort of music she was +teasin' out of the strings, I'll say this much: The way she was doin' it +was well worth watchin'. The swing of that elbow of hers, and the +Isadora Duncan sway of her shoulders as she hits the high notes sure did +have some class to it. He's so busy followin' her motions that he don't +even know when I leans in within six inches of him and whispers. So I +has to give him the gentle prod. + +"Eh!" says he, whirlin' around. "Why, what the--Torchy!" + +"Uh-huh," says I. "Crawl out backwards, can't you?" + +"Wha--what's that!" says he, whisperin' sort of husky. + +"You got to do it," says I. "I was sent up special to get you." + +"Why, what's the matter?" says he. + +"P. K. & Q. contracts," says I. "Did you file 'em yet?" + +"By Jove, no!" he groans under his breath. "I--I forgot." + +"Then it's a case of beat it," says I. + +"But--but I can't!" says Mr. Robert. "I can't possibly leave now, right +in the middle of----" + +"That's so," says I. "She's lookin' this way now. But where'd you stow +the contracts? Remember that, do you?" + +"Why, of course," says he. "Third left hand drawer of my desk, in a +document box." + +"'S enough!" says I. "I'll 'phone down and tell 'em. They'll fix it up. +Don't move; she's lookin' your way again." + +"Wait!" says he, behind his hand. "I must see you before you go back, +after the concert is over. Wait for me in the garden." + +"In the garden, Maud, it is," says I, and with that I slides back to the +front entrance and gets Marie to lead me to the 'phone booth. + +Well, I'd got the joint all sized up now. It's one of these swell +boardin' schools for girls, where they take piano lessons and are +exposed to French and the German measles. And, now my knees has quit +wabblin' and I was safe out of the hall, I was almost glad I'd come up +and give the young ladies such a treat. I couldn't help admirin' Mr. +Robert's nerve, though; for he must have known what he was lettin' +himself in for when he follows Inez up there. But when they get it that +bad there's no tellin' how reckless they'll be. + +If it had been all the same to Mr. Robert, my next move would have been +to get away from the spot as quick as my feet would let me; but so long +as he'd assigned me a waiting part that's what it had to be. With +Marie's help I finds the garden out at the back of the house and makes +myself comf'table on a rustic seat. It's a flossy garden scene, all +right, with winding paths, and flowerbeds, and cute little summer +houses, and all sorts of bushes in bloom. Now and then I could hear +music driftin' out, and when a piece was through the hand clappin' would +commence, like a shower on a tin roof. + +Say, it had sittin' behind the brass rail in the office beat to a froth, +and I was enjoyin' it, lazy and comf'table, with my feet up on the bench +and my head back; when all at once there's a big spasm of applause, the +doors openin' on the back veranda are swung open, everybody starts +chatterin' together, there's a swish and a rustle and a clatter of high +heels; and the next thing I knew the whole blamed garden was full of +'em. + +Girls! Say, all the fifty-seven varieties was represented,--tall ones, +short ones, thin ones, plump ones, and plain fatties. There was +aristocratic brunettes, and dimpled blondes, and every shade between. +They ranged from fourteen up, and they sported all kinds of hair +dressin', from double pleated braids to the latest thing in turban +swirls. And there was little Willie, hemmed in by a twelve-foot wall on +three sides and solid squads of girls on the fourth! + +First they began sailin' by in groups of twos and threes and fours, all +givin' me the goo-goo stare and snickerin'. Honest, you'd thought I was +some kind of a humorous curiosity, specially exhibited for the occasion. +Ain't they the limit, though? And the whispered remarks they passed! +"Why, Madge! Aren't you just killing! Whose brother did you say you +thought----Yes, and so curly, too!" + +I try to forget that red thatch of mine most of the time; but this was +no place to practice bein' absent minded. It didn't seem to make any +diff'rence whether I put my hat on or left it off, they were wise to the +ruddy hair. All I could do was to squeeze myself into one corner of the +seat and pretend not to notice 'em. What I wanted most was to stand up +and holler for Mr. Robert. Why in blazes didn't he show up, anyway? + +I'd been enjoyin' this gen'ral inspection stunt for four or five +minutes, when maids begun circulatin' among the mob with trays of +sandwiches and plates of chicken salad, and every last one of 'em +stopped at my station. + +"No, thanks," says I. Think I wanted to give a food destroyin' +performance before an audience like that? I was just wavin' away the +fourth offer of picnic grub when I hears a little squeal come from a +bunch of new recruits, and when I looks up to see what's happening +now--well, you'd never guess. It's Miss Vee! You know, the pink and +white queen I was tellin' you about meetin' at the swell dancin' class +where I subbed for Izzie in the cloakroom and was invited out to join +the merry throng. + +She ain't got the ballroom costume on, of course; but I'd know them big +gray eyes and that straw colored hair and that sweet pea complexion in +any disguise. For a second she stands there gazin' at me sort of +surprised and puzzled, like she didn't know whether to give me the nod +or just put up her chin and sail by. If I could I'd looked the other +way, so's to give her a chance to duck recognizin' me; but I couldn't do +anything but stare back. And the next thing I knew she's comin' straight +for me. + +"Why, Torchy!" says she, sort of purry and confidential. "You!" And +blamed if she wa'n't holdin' out both hands. + +Well, say, you can't imagine what a diff'rence that makes to me. It was +like fallin' off a roof and landin' in a hammock. What did I care for +that push of young lady fluffs then? + +"Sure thing, it's me," says I, grabbin' the hands before she could +change her mind. "Say, have a seat, won't you, Miss Vee?" + +"Oh, then you haven't forgotten?" says she. + +"Me? Forget?" says I. "Say, Miss Vee, I'll keep right on rememberin' +that spiel we had together until breathin' goes out of fashion--and then +some! Gee! but I'm glad you happened along!" + +"But how is it," says she, "that you----" + +"Special commission," says I. "I'm waitin' here for Mr. Robert Ellins." + +"Oh!" says she. "And have you had some salad and sandwiches?" + +"No; but I'm ready for 'em now," says I. "That is, if----Say, you don't +mind doin' this, do you?" + +"Why should I?" says she. + +"Oh, well," says I, "you see I ain't--well, I'm kind of outclassed here, +and I didn't know but some of the other girls might----" + +"Let them dare!" says Miss Vee, straightenin' up and glancin' around +haughty. My! but she's a thoroughbred! There was one group standin' a +little way off watchin' us; but that look of Miss Vee's scattered 'em as +though she'd turned the hose on them. Next minute she was smilin' +again. "You see," she goes on, sittin' close, "I'm not much afraid." + +"You're a hummer, you are!" says I, lookin' her over approvin'. + +"There, there!" says she. "I see that you must have something to eat +right away. Here, Hortense! There! Now you'll have a cup of tea, won't +you?" + +"Anything you pass out goes with me," says I, "even to tea." + +It was my first offense in the oolong line, and, honest, I couldn't tell +now how it tasted; but I knew all about how Vee handles a cup and +saucer, though, and the way she has of lookin' at you over the rim. Say, +she's the only girl I ever knew who could talk more'n a minute to a +feller without the aid of giggles. There's some sense to what she has to +say, too, and all the way you can tell whether she's joshin' or not is +by watchin' her eyes. And me, I wa'n't losin' any tricks. + +She tells me all about how she's been to school here ever since she was +a little girl. Seems she's as shy on parents as I am; but she has an +aunt that she lives with between school terms. This is her finishin' +year, and as soon as the final doin's are over she and Aunty are due to +sail for Europe. + +"Coming back in September?" says I. + +"Oh, no indeed!" says she. "Perhaps not for two years." + +"Gee!" says I. + +"Well?" says she, and I finds myself lookin' square into them big gray +eyes of hers. + +"Oh, nothing," says I; "only--only it sounds a long ways off. And, say, +you don't happen to have a spare photo, do you, maybe one taken in that +dress you wore the night of the ball?" + +"Silly!" says she. "But suppose I have?" + +"Why," says I,--"why, I thought--well, say, it wouldn't do any harm to +leave my new address, would it! That's the number, care of Mrs. Zenobia +Preble." + +"Zenobia!" says she. "Why, I know who she is. Do you live with----" + +"I'm half adopted already," says I. "Bully old girl, ain't she? And say, +Miss Vee----" + +It was just about then I had the feelin' that some one was tryin' to +butt in on this two-part dialogue of ours, and as I looks up, sure +enough there's Mr. Robert, with his eyes wide and his mouth half open, +watchin' us. + +"Well, it's all over," says I. "Mr. Robert's waitin' for me. Good luck +and--and----Oh, what's the use? Give my regards to Europe, will you? +Good-by!" And with that we shakes hands and I breaks away. + +"I don't wish to seem curious," says Mr. Robert, as we walks out to his +cab, "but--er--is this something recent?" + +"Not very," says I. "We've met before." + +"Then allow me," says he, "to congratulate you on your good taste." + +"Thanks!" says I. "Same to you; and I ain't got so much on you at that, +eh?" + +We drops the subject there; but Mr. Robert seems so pleased over +something or other that we'd gone twenty blocks before he remembers what +brought me up. + +"Oh, by the way," says he, "I suppose there'll be no end of row about my +forgetting to send down those contracts. The Governor was wild, wasn't +he?" + +"He was wild, all right," says I, "without knowin' whether you'd forgot +'em or not." + +"But when you 'phoned him," says Mr. Robert, "of course he----" + +"Ah, say!" says I. "Do I look like a trouble hunter? I 'phoned +Piddie--told him to sneak 'em out, send 'em down, and keep his mouth +shut. All you got to do is act innocent." + +Never mind the hot air Mr. Robert passes out after that. What tickles me +most is the package that came for me yesterday by messenger. I finds it +on my plate at dinner time; so both the old ladies was on hand when I +opens it. + +"Why, Torchy!" says Aunt Martha, lookin' at me shocked and scandalized. +"A young lady's picture!" + +"Yep," says I. "Ain't she a dream, though?" + +And, say, Martha'd been lecturin' me yet if it hadn't been for Zenobia +breakin' in. + +"Do remember, Martha," says she, "that you were not always sixty-three +years old, and that once----Why, bless me! This must be Alicia Vernon's +child. Is there a name on the back? There is! Verona Ashton Hemmingway, +heiress to all that is left of poor Dick's fortune. She's a beauty, just +like her mother." + +"She's all of that," says I. + +It didn't make any diff'rence to Aunt Martha who she was, though. She +didn't think it right for young ladies to give away their pictures to +young men. She was for askin' me how long I'd known Miss Vee, and---- + +"There, now, Martha," said Zenobia, "suppose we don't." + +That's how it is I can guess who it was blew themselves for a corkin' +big silver frame, and put Vee's picture in it, and stood it on my +bureau. Course, Vee's on her way to foreign parts now, and there's no +tellin' when she's comin' back. Besides, there ain't anything in it, +anyway. But somehow that picture in the silver frame seems to help +some. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +BATTING IT UP TO TORCHY + + +Nobody had to point him out to me. I hadn't been holdin' down the chair +behind the brass gate more'n two days before I knew who was the living +joke on the Corrugated Trust Company's force. It's Uncle Dudley, of +course. + +And, say, my coppin' that out don't go to prove I'm a Mr. Cute. Any +mush-head could have picked him after one glimpse of the old vintage +Prince Albert, the back number silk lid, and the white Chaunceys he +wears on each side of his face. That get-up would be good for a quiet +smile even over in Canarsie; but when you come to plant it in the midst +of such a sporty aggregation as the Corrugated carries on the +payroll--why, you've got the comic chuckles comin' over fast. + +"Say, Piddie," says I the second morning, after watchin' it blow in, +"who's the seed, eh?" + +"That?" says Piddie. "Oh, that's old Dudley." + +"Does he wear the uniform reg'lar," says I, "or is he celebratin' some +anniversary?" + +And Piddie almost allows himself to grin as he explains how that's the +same costume Dudley has come down to work in every day for the last +fifteen years. + +"Well, it's a flossy outfit, all right," says I. "What is he, one of the +directors?" + +No, he wa'n't. He's some sort of subassistant auditor with a salary of +eighteen per. You know the kind--one of these deadwood specimens that +stand a show of gettin' the prunin' hook every time there's a shake-up. +Most every office has a few of 'em, hangin on like last year's oak +leaves in the park; but it ain't often they can qualify as comic +supplements. + +Not that Uncle Dudley tries to be humorous. He's the quietest, meekest +old relic you ever saw, slidin' in soft and easy with his hat off, and +walkin' almost as though he had his shoes in his hand. But the faded +umbrella under one arm and the big buttonhole bouquet he always wears +puts him in the joke book class without takin' the face lambrequins into +account at all. + +Can I let all that get by me without passin' out some josh? You can see +me, can't you? Never mind all the bright and cunnin' remarks I sprung on +Uncle Dudley now; but for awhile there I made a point of puttin' over +something fresh every day. Why, it was a cinch! + +All the comeback I ever got out of him, though, was that batty old +smile of his, kind of sad and gentle, as if I was remindin' him of times +gone by. And there ain't a lot of satisfaction in that, you know. Now, I +can chuck the giddy persiflage at Piddie day in and day out, and enjoy +doin' it, because it always gets him so wild. Also there's more or less +thrill to slippin' the gay retort across to Old Hickory Ellins now and +then, because there's a giddy chance of gettin' fired for it. But to rub +it into a non-resister like Uncle Dudley--well, what's the use? + +So after awhile I cut it out altogether, leavin' him for such amateur +cut-ups as Izzy Budheimer and Flannel Haggerty to practice on. Then +little by little me and old Dudley got more or less chummy, what with me +steerin' him around to my fav'rite dairy lunch joint and all that. And, +say, we must have been a great pair, sittin' side by side in the +armchairs, puttin' away sweitzer sandwiches and mugs of chickory blend; +him in his tall lid, and with his quiet, old timy manners, and me--well, +I guess you get the tableau. + +I used to like hearin' him talk, he uses such a soothin', genteel brand +of conversation; nothing fancy, you know, but plain, straightaway goods. +Mostly he tells me about his son, who's livin' out in California +somewhere and is just branchin' out in the cement block buildin' +business. Son is messin' in politics more or less too; mixin' it up +with the machine, and gettin' the short end of the returns every trip. +But it's on account of this reform stunt of his that the old gent seems +to be so proud of him, not appearin' to care whether he ever got elected +to anything or not. + +He don't say so much about the married daughter that he lives with over +in Jersey; but I don't think much about that until after I've let him +tow me over to dinner once and met Son in Law Bennett. He's a flashy +proposition, this young Mr. Bennett is, havin' an interest in a curb +brokerage firm that rents window space on Broad-st. and has desk room +down on William. Let him tell it, though, and, providin' some of his +deals go through, he's goin' to have Morgan squealin' for help before +the year is out. + +And I find that at home Uncle Dudley is rated somewhere between the +fam'ly cat and the front doormat. Mr. Bennett don't exactly gag the old +man and lock him in the cellar. He ignores him when he can, and when he +has to notice him he makes it plain that he's standin' the disgrace as +well as he can. + +"So you came over with the old sport, did you?" says Bennett to me. +"Batty old duffer, eh? That comes of being a dead one for so long. +Manages to hang on with the Corrugated, though, don't he? He'd better, +too! I'm not running any old folks' home here." + +But it wa'n't to show off how he stood with his son in law that Uncle +Dudley had lugged me along. He'd got so used to bein' dealt out for a +twospot that he didn't seem to mind. He didn't claim to be anything more +even at the office. + +It's his flower garden, out back of the house, that Uncle Dudley had got +me 'way out there to see; and, while I ain't any expert on that line of +displays, I should say this posy patch of his had some class to it. +Anyway, seein' it, and findin' out how he rolls off the mattress at +sunrise every mornin' to tend it, lets me in for a new view of him. It's +this little garden patch and the son out West that makes life worth +livin' for him, in spite of Son in Law Bennett. + +"Say, Dudley," says I, "why don't you work a combination of the two; go +out where you can raise roses all winter, if the dope these railroad +ads. sling out is straight, and be with your son too?" + +"I--I can't do that, just yet," says he, sort of hesitatin'. "You see, +he hasn't seen me for twelve years, and since then I have--er--well, +I've been slipping backward. He doesn't know what a failure I've made of +life, and if I gave up here and went on to him--why----" + +"I'm on," says I. "He'd spot you for one of the down-and-outers. But +you do get it rubbed in here good and plenty, don't you?" + +"From Bennett?" says he. "Oh, he is right, I suppose. He knows how +useless I am. But we cannot all succeed, can we? Some of us must stay at +the bottom and prop the ladder." + +One thing about Uncle Dudley, he had no whine comin'. He takes it all +meek and cheerful, and so far as I could make out he's most as useful +around the office as a lot of others that gets chesty whenever they +think what would happen to the concern if they should be sick for a +week. Anyway, there's frequent calls for old Dudley to straighten out +this or that; but somehow he never seems to get credit for bein' much +more than a sort of a walkin' copybook that remembers what other people +don't want to lumber up their valuable brains with. Maybe it's the white +mud guards, or his habit of lettin' anyone boss him around, that keeps +him down. + +And I expect things would have gone on that way, until he either dropped +out or got the blue envelope some payday, if it hadn't been for this lid +liftin' business up at Albany. Course, you've read how they uncovered +first one lot of grafters and then another, and fin'lly, with that last +swipe of the muck rake, got the Corrugated rung into the mess? And, say, +anyone would think, from some of the papers, that we was all a bunch of +crooks down here, spendin' our time feedin' wads of hundred-dollar bills +to the yellow dog. Maybe it don't stir up Mr. Robert some thorough, +though! + +"Why," I heard him say to the old man, "it's a beastly outrage, that's +what it is! All the fellows at the club are chaffing me about it, you +know. And besides it's disturbing business frightfully. Look at the +tumble our shares took yesterday! I say, Governor, we must send out a +denial." + +"Huh!" growls Old Hickory. "Who cares a blinkety blanked blank what they +say we did? Let 'em prove it!" + +Then the next day them checks was sprung on the investigatin' committee, +and it looked as though they'd made out their case against the +Corrugated. Perhaps there wa'n't doin's on the seventeenth floor that +mornin'! Clear out where I sat I could hear the boss callin' for first +one man and then another, and Piddie is turkeyin' in and out so excited +he don't know whether he's on duty or runnin' bases. Once, when he stops +to lean against the spring-water bottle and wipe his dewy brow, I slips +up behind and taps him quick on the shoulder. + +"Ye-e-e-es, sir!" says he, before he sees who it is. + +"Never mind, Piddie," says I. "I was goin' to ask you 'Guilty or not +guilty?' But what's the use? Anyone can see it was you that did it." + +"You--you impudent young sauce box!" he begins. "How dare you----" + +"Ah, save that for the subpoena server," says I. "He'll be in here +after you in a minute. And, say, my guess is that you'll get about ten +years on the rockpile." + +When the special directors' meetin' gets under way, though, and the big +guns of the Corrugated law force got on the job, there was less noise +and more electricity in the air. Honest, with all that tiptoein' and +whisperin' and serious looks bein' passed around, I didn't even have the +gall to guy one of the new typewriter girls. Kind of gets on your +nerves, a thing of that kind does, and if a squad of reserves had +marched in and pinched the whole outfit, I shouldn't have been so much +surprised. + +Right in the midst of it too there comes my three rings on the buzzer, +and in I sneaks where they're holdin' the inquest. Say, they're all +sittin' around the big mahogany directors' table, with the old man at +the head, lookin' black and ugly, and grippin' a half smoked cigar butt +between his teeth. I could see at a glance they hadn't thrown any scare +into him yet. He was just beginning to fight, that's all. + +"Boy," says he, "bring in Dudley." + +"Yes, sir," says I. + +But, say, my heels dragged some as I went out. Course I didn't know what +they wanted of the old boy; but it didn't look to be such a wild guess +that they'd picked him to play the goat part. I finds him perched up on +his stool, calm and serene, workin' away on the ledgers as industrious +as if nothin' special was goin' on. + +"Dudley," says I, "are you feelin' strong?" + +"Why, Torchy," says he, "I am feeling about as usual, thank you." + +"Well, brace yourself then," says I; "for there's rough goin' ahead. +You're wanted in on the carpet." + +"Me?" says he. "Mr. Ellins wants me?" + +"Uh-huh," says I, "him and the rest of 'em. But don't let 'em put any +spell on you. It's your cue now to forget the meek and lowly business. I +know you ain't strong for bluffin' through a game; but for the love of +soup put up a front to-day!" + +Dudley, he only smiles and shakes his head. Then off he toddles, wearin' +his old ink-stained office coat and even keepin' on the green eye-shade. + +Well, I don't know how long they had him on the grill; but it couldn't +have been more'n half an hour, for along about three o'clock I strolls +into the audit department, and there's old Dudley back on his perch +writin' away again. + +"Say, are you it?" says I. + +[Illustration: WE MUST HAVE BEEN A GREAT PAIR.] + +"Why, how is that?" says he. + +"Did they tie anything to you?" says I. "You know--con you into takin' +the blame, or anything like that?" + +"Blame for what?" says he. "I don't believe I understand. But nothing of +the sort was mentioned. I was merely given some instructions about my +work." + +"Oh!" says I. "That's all, eh? And you've gone right at it, have you?" + +"No," says he. "The fact is, Torchy, I am writing out my resignation." + +"What! Quittin'?" says I. "Say, don't you see what a hole that puts you +in? Why, it makes you the goat for fair! If you do that you'll need bail +inside of forty-eight hours--and you won't get it. Look here, Dudley, +take my advice and tear that up." + +"But I can't, Torchy," says he, "really, I can't." + +"Why not?" says I. "You've got a couple of hands, ain't you? And what'll +you do for another job if you chuck this one? Say, why in blazes are you +so anxious to take your chances between Sing Sing and the bread line?" + +He's there with the explanation, all right, and here's the way it +stands: Uncle Dudley has been called on because his partic'lar +double-entry trick is to keep the run of the private accounts. All they +want him to do is to take descriptions of a couple of checks, dig up +the stubs, and juggle his books so the record will fit in with a nice +new set of transactions that's just been invented for the purpose. + +"But what checks?" says I. "The five thousand plunkers to Mutt & Mudd?" + +"Why, yes," says he. "How did you know?" + +"Ah, how did I----Say, Dudley, ain't you been readin' the papers +lately?" says I. + +Would you believe it? He don't know any more about what's in the air +than a museum mummy knows of Lobster Square. This little private cyclone +that's been turnin' the office upside down ain't so much as ruffled his +whiskers. Checks are checks to him, and these special trouble makers +don't give him any chills up the back at all. He's been told, though, to +use the acid bottle on his books and write in a new version. + +"Well, why not do it?" says I. "What's that to you?" + +"Why, don't you see," says he, "it would be making a false entry, +and--I--I----Well, I've never done such a thing in my life, Torchy, and +I can't begin now." + +And, say, what do you know about that, eh? Just a piece of phony +bookkeepin' that he don't even have to put his name to, his job gone if +he don't follow orders, and him almost to the age limit anyway, with +Son in Law Bennett ready to shove him on the street the minute he gets +the sack! + +"Do you mean it?" says I. + +He puts his signature to the resignation and hands it over for me to +read. + +"Say, Dudley," says I, lookin' him up and down, "this listens to me like +a bughouse play of yours; but I got to admit that you do it sporty. +There's no ocher streak in you." + +"I hoped you would understand," says he. "In the circumstances, it was +all I could do, you see." + +"What I see plainer'n anything else," says I, "is that if this goes +through your career is bugged to the limit. When do you want this handed +in?" + +"As soon as possible," says he. "I suppose I ought to resign at once." + +"Resign!" says I. "You'll be lucky if the old man don't have you chucked +through the window. Better be waitin' down in the lower corridor when I +spring this on Mr. Ellins." + +Nothin' of that kind for Uncle Dudley, though. He starts straightenin' +up his desk as I goes out, as calm as though he was house cleanin' for a +vacation. + +And while I'm tryin' to make up my mind how to deliver this document to +the main stem and duck an ambulance ride afterwards, the directors' +meetin' breaks up. So I finds Old Hickory alone in his private office +and slips it casual on the pad in front of him. + +"Here, what's this?" he snorts, callin' me back as he opens up the +sheet. "Eh? Dudley! Resigns, does he! What, that dried up, goat faced, +custard brained, old----Say, boy; ask him what the grizzly grindstones +he means by----" + +"I did," says I, "and, if you want to know, he's quittin' because he's +too straight to cook up the books the way you told him." + +"Cook up the books!" gasps Old Hickory, gettin' raspb'ry tinted in the +face and displayin' neck veins like a truck horse. "He's been welshing, +has he? Perhaps he'd like to turn State's witness? Well, by the great +sizzling skyrockets, if that's his trick, I'll give him enough of----" + +"Excuse me, Mr. Ellins," I breaks in, "but you're slippin' your clutch. +Tricks! Why, he ain't even wise to what you want him to do it for. All +he knows is that it's crooked, and he renigs on a general proposition. +And, say, when a man's as straight as that, with the workhouse starin' +him in the face, he's too valuable to lose, ain't he?" + +"Wha-a-at?" gurgles Old Hickory. + +"Besides," says I, hurryin' the words to get 'em all out before any +violent scene breaks loose, "knowin' all he does about them Mutt & Mudd +checks, and with what he don't know about the case, it wouldn't be +hardly safe to have him roamin' the streets, would it? Now I leave it to +you." + +Say, I was lookin' Old Hickory right in the eye, ready to dodge the +inkstand or anything else, while I was puttin' that over, and for a +minute I thought it was comin' sure. But while he can get as hot under +the collar as anyone I ever saw, and twice as quick, he don't go clear +off his nut any of the time. + +"Young man," says he, calmin' down and motionin' me to a chair, "as +usual, you seem to be more or less well informed on this matter +yourself. Now let's have the rest of it." + +And just like that, all of a sudden, it's batted up to me. So I lets it +come, with all the details about Uncle Dudley's frosty home life, and +the reformer son out West that still thinks father is makin' good. He +sits there and listens to every word too. Not that he comes in with the +sympathetic sigh, or shows signs of being troubled by mist in the eye +corners. He just throws in an occasional grunt now and then and drums +his fat finger-tips on the chair arm. + +"Huh!" says he. "Babes and sucklings! But I've had worse advice that has +cost me a lot more. Well, I suppose an old fool like that is dangerous +to have drifting around. But I don't want him here just now, either. +Um-m-m! Where did you say this son of his lived?" + +"Just out of Los Angeles," says I. + +"All right," says Old Hickory. "Tell him he goes west Tuesday as +traveling auditor to our second vice president. He'll bring up at Los +Angeles about the middle of the month--and about that time it may happen +that he'll be retired on full pay. But I'll keep this resignation, as a +curiosity." + +Now don't ask me to describe how old Dudley takes it; for when he gets +the full partic'lars of the decision it near keels him over. And what +part of it do you say tickles him most? That the books don't have to be +juggled! + +"It wasn't like Mr. Ellins to countenance an act of that sort, not in +the least," says he, "and I am very glad that he has changed his mind." + +"Say, Dudley," says I, "you're a wonder, you are." + +And it was all I could do to keep from askin' him if he thought he owned +the only bottle of ink eradicator there was in New York. + +Do I know who did fix up them entries? Well, by the nervous motions of a +certain party next mornin', I could give a guess. + +"Piddie," says I, "if they ever get you on the stand, you want to wear +interferin' pads between your knees, so they won't hear the bones +rattle." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THROWING THE LINE TO SKID + + +Say, this is twice I've been let in wrong on Skid Mallory. Remember him, +don't you? Well, he's our young college hick that I helped steer up +against Baron Kazedky when he landed that big armor plate order. Did +they make Skid a junior partner for that, or paint his name on a private +office door? Not so you'd notice it. Maybe they was afraid a sudden +boost like that would make him dizzy. But they promotes him to the sales +department and adds ten to his pay envelope. I was most as tickled over +it as Mallory was, too. + +"Didn't I tell you?" says I. "You're a comer, you are! Why, I expect in +ten or a dozen years more you'll be sharin' in the semi-annuals and +ridin' down to the office in a taxi." + +"Perhaps I may, Torchy--in ten or a dozen years," says he, kind of slow +and sober. + +I could guess what he was thinking of then. It was the girl, that sweet +young thing that Brother Dick towed in here along last winter, some +Senator's daughter that Skid had got chummy with when he was doin' his +great quarterback act and havin' his picture printed in the sportin' +extras. + +"How's that affair comin' on?" says I; for I ain't heard him mention her +in quite some time. + +"It's all off," says he, shruggin' them wide shoulders of his. "That is, +there never was anything in it, you know, to begin with." + +"Oh, there wa'n't, eh?" says I. "Forgot all about that picture you used +to carry around in the little leather case, have you?" + +Skid, he flushes up a bit at that, and one hand goes up to his left +inside pocket. Then he laughs foolish. "It isn't I who have forgotten," +says he. + +"Oh-ho!" says I. "Well, I wouldn't have thought her the kind to shift +sudden, when she seemed so----" + +But Mallory gives me the choke off sign, and as we walks up Broadway he +gradually opens up more and more on the subject until I've got a fair +map of the situation. Seems that Sis ain't exactly set him adrift +without warnin'. He'd sort of helped cut the cable himself. She'd begun +by writin' to him every week, tellin' him all about the lively season +she was havin' in Washington, and how much fun she was gettin' out of +life. She even put in descriptions of her new dresses, and some of her +dance orders, and now and then a bridge score, or a hand painted place +card from some dinner she'd been to. + +And Skid, thinkin' it all over in the luxury of his nine by ten boudoir, +got to wonderin' what attractions along that line he could hold out to a +young lady that was used to blowin' in more for one new spring lid than +he could earn in a couple of weeks. + +"And orchids are her favorite flowers!" says he. "Ever buy any orchids, +Torchy?" + +"Not guilty," says I; "but they ain't so high, are they, that you +couldn't splurge on a bunch now and then? What's the tariff on 'em, +anyway?" + +"At times you can get real nice ones for a dollar apiece," says he. + +"Phe-e-e-ew!" says I. "She has got swell tastes." + +"It isn't her fault," says he. "She's never known anything different." + +So what does Skid do but slow up on the correspondence, skippin' an +answer here and there, and coverin' only two pages when he did write. +For one thing, he didn't have so much to tell as she did. I knew that; +for I'd seen more or less of Mallory durin' the last few months, and I +knew he was playin' his cards close to his vest. + +Not that he was givin' any real lifelike miser imitation; but he didn't +indulge in high priced café luncheons on Saturdays, like most of the +bunch; he'd scratched his entry at the college club; and he was soakin' +away his little surplus as fast as he got his fingers on it. + +Course, that programme meant sendin' regrets to most of the invites he +got, and spendin' his evenin's where it didn't cost much to get in or +out. One frivolous way he had of killin' time was by teachin' 'rithmetic +to a class of new landed Zinskis at a settlement house over on the East +Side. + +"Ah, what's the use?" I used to tell him. "They'd learn to do compound +interest on their fingers in a month, anyway, and the first thing you +know you'll be payin' rent to some of 'em." + +But he was pretty level headed about most things, I will say that for +Mallory, specially the way he sized up this girl business. Seems at last +she got the idea he was grouchy at her about something; and when he +didn't deny, or come to the front with any reason--why, she just quit +sendin' the billy ducks. + +"So you're never going to see her any more, eh?" says I. + +"Well," says he, "I supposed until within an hour or so ago that I never +should. And then----Well, she's here, Torchy; came yesterday, and I +presume she expects to see me to-night." + +"That's encouragin', anyway," says I. + +But Mallory don't seem so much cheered up. It turns out that Sis is +spendin' a few days with friends here, waitin' for the rest of the +fam'ly to come on and sail for Europe. They're givin' a farewell dinner +dance for her, and Skid is on the list. + +The trouble is he can't make up his mind whether to go or stay away. One +minute he's dead sure he won't, and the next minute he admits he don't +see what harm there would be in takin' one last look. + +"But, then," says Mallory, "what good would that do?" + +"I know," says I. "There's a young lady friend of mine on the other side +too. Say, Mallory, I guess we belong in the lobster class." + +And when we splits up on the corner Skid has decided against the party +proposition, and goes off towards his boardin' house with his chin down +on his collar and his heels draggin'. + +So I wa'n't prepared for the joyous smile and the frock coat regalia +that Mallory wears when he blows into the office about ten-forty-five +next forenoon. He's sportin' a spray of lilies of the valley in his +lapel, and swingin' his silver topped stick, and by the look on his +face you'd think he was hearin' the birdies sing in the treetops. + +"Tra-la-la, tra-la-lee!" says I, throwin' open the brass gate for him. +"Is it a special holiday, or what?" + +"It's a very special one," says he, thumpin' me on the back and +whisperin' husky in my ear. "Torchy, I'm married!" + +"Wha-a-at!" I splutters. "Who to? When?" + +"To Sis," says he, "half an hour ago." + +"Eh?" says I. "Mean to say you've been and eloped with the Senator's +daughter?" + +"Eloped!" says he, as though he'd never heard the word before. "Why, +no--er--that is, we just went out and--and----" + +Oh, no, they hadn't eloped! They'd merely slid out of the ballroom about +three A.M., after dancin' seventeen waltzes together, snuggled into a +hansom cab, and rode around the park until daylight talkin' it over. +Then she'd slipped back into the house, got into her travelin' dress +while he was off changin' his clothes, met again at eight o'clock, +chased down to City Hall after a license, and then dragged a young +rector away from his boiled eggs and toast to splice 'em. + +But Skid didn't call that elopin'. Why, Sis had left word with the +butler to tell her friends all about it, and the first thing they did +after it was over was to send a forty-word collect telegram to papa. +And Mallory, he'd just dropped around to arrange with Old Hickory for a +little vacation before they beat it for Atlantic City. + +"So that ain't elopin', eh?" says I. "I expect you'd call that a +sixty-yard run on a forward pass, or something like that? Well, the old +man's inside. Luck to you." + +Mallory wa'n't on the carpet long, and when he comes out I asks how he +made back. + +"Oh, bully!" says he. "I'm to have ten days." + +"With or without?" says I. + +"Oh, I forgot to ask," says he. + +Little things like bein' on the payroll or not wa'n't botherin' him +then. He gives me a bone crushin' grip and swings out to the elevator in +a rush; for he's been away from Sis nearly half an hour now. + +Exceptin' a picture postcard or two, showin' the iron pier and a bathin' +scene, I didn't hear from Mr. and Mrs. Mallory for more'n a week. And +then one afternoon I gets a 'phone message from Skid, saying that +they're all settled in a little flat up on Washington Heights and +they'll be pleased to have me come up to dinner. + +"It's our very first dinner, you know," says he, "and Sis is going to +get it all by herself. I suggested that we try the first one on you." + +"That don't scare me any," says I. "I've lived on sinkers and pie too +long to duck amateur cookin'. I'll be there." + +I was on the grin all the afternoon too, thinkin' of the joshes I was +goin' to hand him. At three minutes of closing time I was all ready to +sneak out, with one eye on the clock and the other on Piddie, when in +blows a ruby faced, thick waisted gent with partly gray hair, a +heavyweight jaw, and a keen pair of twinklin' gray eyes. He looks +prosperous and important, and he proceeds to act right to home. + +"Boy," says he, pushin' through the gate, "is this the general office of +the Corrugated Trust Company?" + +"Yep," says I. "That's what it says on the door." + +"There is employed here, I understand," he goes on, "a young man by the +name of Mallory." + +Say, I was wide awake at that. "Mallory?" says I. "I can find out. Did +you want to see him on business?" + +"It is a personal matter," says he. "Is he here?" + +"Now, let's not rush this," says I. "My orders is to find out----" + +"Very well," says the gent, "there is my card. And perhaps I should +mention that I have the honor--er--I suppose, to be his father in law." + +Say, and here I was, up against the Senator himself. Course it was my +cue to shrivel up and do the low salaam; but all I can think of at the +minute is to look him over and grin. + +"Gee!" says I. "Then you're on his trail, eh?" + +Maybe it was the grin fetched him; for them square mouth corners +flickers a little and he don't throw any fit. "Evidently you are +somewhat familiar with the circumstances," says he. "May I ask if you +are sufficiently favored with the confidence of my new son in law to +know where he and my--er--his wife happen, to be just now?" + +"I admit it," says I; "but if you're thinkin' of springin' any hammer +music on Skid, you can look for another party, for you won't get it out +of me in a thousand years!" + +"Ah!" says he. "I see Young Lochinvar has at least one champion. Allow +me to state that my intentions are pacific. My wife and I merely wish, +before sailing, to pay a formal call on our daughter and her new +husband. Now if you could give me their address----" + +"Why, say, Senator," says I, "if you ain't lookin' to start anything, I +can do better. I'm going right up there myself this minute, and if +Mrs.----" + +"She is waiting downstairs in the cab," says he. "Nothing would suit us +better." + +And, say, maybe it wa'n't just what I should have done, but blamed if I +could see how to dodge it when it's up to me that way. So it's me +climbin' up on the front seat with the driver of a fancy hotel taxi, +papa and mamma behind, and off rolls the surprise party. + +Well, you know them cut rate apartment houses, with a flossy reception +room, all marble slabs and burlap panels and no elevator. The West +Indian at the telephone exchange says we'll find the Mallorys on the top +floor back to the left. That meant four flights to climb, which might +account for the lack of conversation on the way up. Mallory, with his +coat off, his cuffs rolled back, and his face steamed up, answers the +ring himself. + +"Ah, that you, Torchy?" says he. "We were just wondering if you +would----Why--er--ah----" and as he gets sight of the old couple out in +the dark hall he breaks off sudden. + +"It's all right," says I. "He's promised to give the peace sign. You +know the Senator, don't you, Skid?" + +"The Senator!" he gasps out. + +"I believe I once had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Mallory," says the old +boy, comin' to the front graceful. "Hope you will pardon the intrusion; +but----" + +Just then, though, Sis appears from the kitchen, her face all pink and +white, and her sleeves pushed up past the dimples in her elbows. Under a +thirty-nine-cent blue and white checked apron she's wearin' a lace party +dress that was a dream. It's an odd combination; but most anything would +look well on a little queen like her. She takes one look at Skid, +another at the Senator, and then behind the old man she spies Mother. + +Well, it's just a squeal from one, and a sigh from the other, and then +they've made a rush to the center that wedges us all into that little +three-foot hall like it was the platform of a subway car, and before +anything more can be said they've gone to a fond clinch, each pattin' +the other on the back and passin' appropriate remarks. + +Somehow, I guess the Senator hadn't quite figured on this part of the +programme. I expect his plan was to be real polite and formal, stay only +long enough to let the young people know he could stand it if they +could, and then back out dignified. + +Whatever Mother might have meant to do when she started, it was all off +from the minute Sis let out that squeal. And no sooner had we got +ourselves untangled and edged sideways into the cute little parlor, than +Mother announces how she means to stay right here until it's time to +start for the steamer. Did some one say dinner! Good! She'll stay to +dinner, then. + +At that Sis looks at Skid and Skid he looks at Sis. There was some real +worry exchanged in them looks too; but young Mrs. Mallory ain't one to +be stumped as easy as that. + +"Oh, goody!" says she, clappin' her hands. "But, Mother, what is it you +do to make dumplings puff out after you've dropped them in the lamb +stew?" + +"Dumplings! Lamb stew!" says Mother. "Gracious! Don't ask me, child. I +haven't made any for years. Doesn't your cook know?" + +"She doesn't," says Sis. "I am the cook, Mother." + +Well, that was only the beginning of the revelations; for while Sis and +Mother was strugglin' with the receipt book, the Senator was makin' a +tour of inspection around the apartment. It didn't take him so long, +either. + +"Ahem!" says he to Mallory. "Very cozy, indeed; but--er--not exactly +spacious." + +"Four rooms and bath," says Mallory. + +"Was--er--that the bathtub in there?" says the Senator, jerkin' his +thumb at the bathroot door. "I fancied it might be--er--a pudding dish. +Might I inquire what rent you pay for--er--all this?" + +"Forty a month, sir," says Mallory. + +"Ah! Economy, I see. Good way to begin," says he. "And if it is not too +personal a question, your present salary is----" + +"I'm getting twenty-five a week," says Skid, lookin' him straight +between the eyes. + +"Then you have a private income, I presume?" says the Senator. + +"Well," says Mallory, "my aunt in Boston sends me fifty dollars every +Christmas and advises me to invest my savings in Government bonds." + +At that the Senator drops into a chair and whistles. "But--but how do +you expect," he goes on, "to--to----Pardon me, but I am getting +interested. I should like to know what was your exact financial standing +when you had the imp--er--when you married my daughter?" + +He gets it, down to the last nickel. Skid begins with what he had in the +bank when they starts for Atlantic City, shows the hole that trip made +in his funds, produces the receipts for furniture, and announces that, +after punglin' up a month's rent, there's something over seven dollars +left in the treasury. + +"Huh!" grunts the Senator. "Hence the lamb stew, eh? I don't wonder! So +you and Sis have undertaken to live in a forty-dollar apartment on a +twenty-five-dollar salary, have you?" + +"That's what it looks like, sir," says Mallory. + +"And who is the financial genius that is to manage this enterprise?" +says he. + +"Why," says Skid, "Mrs. Mallory, I suppose. We have agreed that she +should." + +"Sis, eh?" says the Senator, smilin' kind of grim. "Well, you have my +best wishes for your success." + +Skid he flushes some behind the ears; but he only bows and says he's +much obliged. You couldn't blame him for feelin' cut up, either; for +it's all clear how the Senator has doped out an appeal for help within +thirty days, and is willin' to wait for the call. I'm no shark on the +cost of livin' myself; but even I could figure out a deficit. There's a +call to dinner just then, though, and we all gathers round the stew. + +Anyway, it was meant for a lamb stew. The potatoes was some hard, the +gravy was so thin you'd thought it had been put in from the tea kettle +as an afterthought, and the dumplin's hadn't the puffin' out charm +worked on 'em for a cent. But the sliced carrots was kind of tasty and +went all right with the baker's bread if you left off the bargain +butter. Sis she tried to laugh at it all; but her eyes got kind of dewy +at the corners. + +"Never mind, dear," says Mother. "I'll telegraph for our old Martha to +come on and cook for you." + +"Why, certainly," says the Senator. "She could sleep on the fire escape, +you know." + +And say, that last comic jab of his, and the effect it had on Mr. and +Mrs. Mallory, kind of got under my skin. I got to thinkin' hard and +fast, and inside of five minutes I stumbles onto an idea. + +"Excuse me," says I to Skid; "but I guess I'll be on my way. I just +thought of a date I ought to keep." + +And where do you expect I brings up? At the Ellins' mansion, down on the +avenue. First time I'd ever been there out of office hours; but the maid +says Mr. Ellins is takin' his coffee in the lib'ry and she'd see if he'd +let me in. Ah, sure he did, and we gets right down to cases. + +"Remember how that assistant general manager stiff of yours fell down on +that public lands deal when you sent him to Washington last month?" says +I. + +Old Hickory chokes some on a swallow of black coffee he's just hoisted +in; but he recovers enough to nod. + +"Does he get the run?" says I. + +"I neglected consulting you about it, Torchy," says he; "but his +resignation has been called for." + +"Filled the job yet?" says I. + +"Fortunately, no," says he, and I knew by the way he squints that he +thought he was bein' mighty humorous. "Possibly you could recommend his +successor?" + +"Yep, I could," says I. "Would it help any to have some one who was son +in law to a Senator?" + +"That," says Old Hickory, "would depend somewhat on which Senator was +his father in law." + +"Well," says I, "there's his card." + +"Eh?" says he, readin' the name. "Why--who----" + +"Mallory," says I. "You know--hitched last week. He's got the old boy up +there to dinner now. Maybe he'll be taken on as the Senator's secretary +if you don't jump in quick. He's a hustler, Mallory is. Remember how he +skinned that big order out of Kazedky? And as an A. G. M. he'd be a +winner. Well, does he get it?" + +"Young man," says Old Hickory, catchin' his breath, "if my mental +machinery worked at the high pressure speed yours does, I could----But I +am not noted for being slow. I've done things in a hurry before. I can +yet. Torchy, he does get it." + +"When?" says I. + +"To-morrow morning," says he. "I'll start him at five thousand." + +"Whoop!" says I. "Say, you're a sport! I'll go up and deliver the glad +news. Guess he needs it now as much as he ever will." + +And, say, you should have seen the change of heart that comes over the +Senator when he heard the bulletin. "Mallory, my boy," says he, +"congratulations. And by the way, just remove that--er--imitation lamb +stew. Then we'll all go down to some good hotel and have a real +dinner." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +TOUCHING ON TINK TUTTLE + + +"On your way, now, on your way!" says I; gazin' haughty over the brass +gate. "No window cleanin' done here durin' office hours!" + +"But," says the specimen on the other side, "I--I didn't come to clean +the windows." + +"Eh?" says I, sizin' up the blue flannel shirt, the old leather belt, +and other marks of them pail and sponge artists. "Well, we don't want +any sash cords put in, or wirin' fixed, or any kind of jobbin' done +until after five. That's General Order No. 1. See?" + +He nods in kind of a lifeless, unexcited way; but he don't make any +motions towards beatin' it. "I--I--the fact is," he begins, "I wish to +see some one connected with the Corrugated Trust Company." + +"You've had your wish," says I. "I'm Exhibit A. For a profile view of me +step around to the left. Anything more?" + +He don't get peeved at this, nor he don't grin. He just keeps on bein' +serious and calm. "If you don't mind," says he, "I should like to see +one of the higher officials." + +"Say, that's almost neat enough to win out," says I. "One of the higher +officials, eh? How would the president suit you?" + +"If I might see him, I'd like it," says he. + +"Wha-a-a-at!" says I. + +Honest, the nerve that's wasted on some folks is a shame. I had to sit +up and give him the Old Sleuth stare at that. He's between twenty-five +and thirty, for a guess; and, say, whatever he might have been once, +he's a wreck now,--long, thin face, with the cheekbones almost stickin' +through, slumped in shoulders, bony hands, and a three months' crop of +mud colored hair stringin' damp over his ears and brushin' his coat +collar. Why, he looked more like he ought to be sittin' around the +waitin' room of some charity hospital, than tryin' to butt in on the +time of one of the busiest men in New York. + +"It's a matter that ought to go before the president," says he, "and if +he isn't busy I'd like very much to----" + +"Say, old scout," says I, "you got about as much chance of bein' let in +to see Mr. Ellins as I have of passin' for a brunette! So let's come +down to cases. Now what's it all about?" + +He ain't makin' any secret of it. He wants the concern to make him a bid +on an option he holds on some coal and iron lands. Almost comes to life +tellin' me about that option, and for the first time I notice what big, +bright, deep sunk eyes he's got. + +"Oh, a thing of that kind would have to go through reg'lar," says I. +"Wait; I'll call Mr. Piddie. He'll fix you up." + +Does he? Well, that's what Piddie's supposed to be there for; but he +don't any more'n glance at the flannel shirt before he begins to swell +up and frown and look disgusted. "No, no, go away!" says he. "I've no +time to talk to you, none at all." + +"But," says the object, "I haven't had a chance to tell you----" + +"Get out--you!" snaps Piddie, turnin' on his heel and struttin' off. + +It ain't the way he talks to parties wearin' imported Panamas and +sportin' walkin' sticks; but, then, most of us has our little fads that +way. What stirred me up, though, was the rough way he did it, and the +hopeless sag to the wreck's chin after he's heard the decision. + +"Sweet disposition he's got, eh?" says I. "But don't take him too +serious. He ain't the final word in this shop, and there's nobody gets +next to the big wheeze oftener durin' the day than yours truly. Maybe I +could get that option of yours passed on. Got the document with you?" + +He had and hands it over. With that he drops onto the reception room +settee and says he'll wait. + +"Better not," says I; "for it might be quite a spell before I gets the +right chance. We'll do this reg'lar, by mail. Now what's the name?" + +"Tuttle," says he, "Tinkham J. Tuttle." + +"They call you Tink for short, don't they?" says I, and he admits that +they do. "All right," I goes on. "Now the address, Tink. Jersey, eh? +Well, it's likely you'll hear from Mr. Ellins before the week's out. But +don't get your hopes up; for he turns down enough propositions to fill a +waste basket every day. Express elevator at No. 5. So long," and I +chokes off Mr. Tuttle's vote of thanks by wavin' him out the door. + +It's well along in the afternoon before I sees an openin' to drop this +option in front of Old Hickory, grabbin' a minute when his desk is +fairly clear, and slammin' it down just as though it had been sent in +through Piddie. + +"Delivered on," says I. "Wants rush answer by mail." + +"Huh!" grunts Old Hickory, lightin' up a fresh Cassadora. + +That's all I expected to hear of the transaction; so about an hour +later, when Piddie comes out lookin' solemn and says I'm to report to +Mr. Ellins, I don't know what's up. + +"Is it a first degree charge, Piddie," says I, "or only for +manslaughter?" + +"I presume Mr. Ellins will discover what you have done," says he. + +"Well, hope for the worst, Piddie," says I. "Here goes!" + +And the minute I sees what Old Hickory has in front of him, I'm wise. + +"Torchy," says he, givin' me the steely glitter out of them cold storage +eyes of his, "Mr. Piddie seems to know nothing about this Michigan +option." + +"If he admits that much," says I, "it must be so. It's a record, +though." + +"What I want to know," goes on Mr. Ellins, "is how in blue belted blazes +it got here. You brought it in, didn't you?" + +"Yep," says I. "It was this way, Mr. Ellins: Piddie had it put up to him +and wouldn't even hang it on the hook; but the guy that brings it looked +so mournful that I butts in and takes a chance on passin' it along to +you on my own hook." + +"Oh, you did, eh?" he snorts. + +"Sure," says I. "I got to do the fresh act once in a while, ain't I? +Course, if you want a dead one on the gate, I can hand in my portfolio; +but I thought all you had to do with punk options like this was to toss +'em in the basket and then have 'em fired back at----" + +"Fire nothing back!" says Mr. Ellins. "Why, you lucky young rascal, +we've been trying to get hold of this very property for eight months! +And Piddie! Bah! Of all the pin-headed, jelly brained----" + +"Second the motion," says I, springin' the joyous grin. + +"That will do," says Old Hickory, catchin' himself up. "Just you forget +Mr. Piddie and listen to me. Know this Tuttle person by sight, don't +you?" + +"Couldn't forget him," says I. "Want him on the carpet?" + +"I do," says he. "Have him here at ten-thirty to-morrow morning. But +find him to-night, and see that you don't open your head about this +business to anyone else." + +"I get you," says I, doin' the West Point salute. "It's me to trail and +shut up Tuttle. He'll be here, if I have to bring him in an ambulance." + +That's why I jumps out before closin' time and mingles with the Jersey +commuters in a lovely hot ride across the meadows. It's a scrubby +station where I gets off, too; one of these fact'ry settlements where +the whole population answers the seven o'clock whistle every mornin'. +There's a brick barracks half a mile long, where they make sewin' +machines or something, and snuggled close up around it is hundreds of +these four-fam'ly wooden tenements, gettin' the full benefit of the soft +coal smoke and makin' it easy for the hands to pike home for a noon +dinner. Say, you talk about the East Side double deckers; but they're +brownstone fronts compared to some of these corporation shacks across +the meadows! + +Seventeen dirty kids led me to the number Tuttle gave me, and in the +right hand first floor kitchen I finds a red faced woman in a faded blue +wrapper fryin' salt pork and cabbage. + +"Mrs. Tinkham Tuttle?" says I, holdin' my breath. + +"No," says she, glancin' suspicious over her shoulder. "I'm his sister." + +"Oh!" says I. "Is Tink around?" + +"I don't know whether he is or not, and don't care!" says she. + +"Much obliged," says I; "but I ain't come to collect for anything. +Couldn't you give a guess?" + +"If I did," says she, "I'd say he was over to the factory yard. That's +where he stays most of the time." + +It's half-past five; but the fact'ry's runnin' full blast, and I has to +jolly a timekeeper and the yard boss before I locates my man. Fin'lly, +though, they point out a big storage shed in one corner of the coal +cinder desert they has fenced in so careful. The wide double doors to +the shed are shut; but after I've hammered for a while one of 'em is +slid back a few inches and Tuttle peeks out. + +"Oh!" he gasps. "You! Say, are they going to take it? Are they?" + +"Them's the indications," says I, "providin' it's all O. K. and your +price is right." + +"Oh, I'll make the price low enough," says he. "I'll sell out for two +thousand, and it ought to be worth twice that. But two is all I need." + +"Eh?" says I. "What kind of finance do you call that? Say, Tuttle, you +know you can't work any 'phony deal on the Corrugated. Better give me +the straight goods and save trouble." + +"I will," says he. "Come in, won't you!" + +With that he leads the way through the dark shed to a sort of workshop +at the back, where there's a window. There's a tool bench, a little hand +forge with an old coffee pot and a fryin' pan on it, and a cot bed not +ten feet away. + +"Campin' out here?" says I. + +"I'm not supposed to," says he; "but the yard superintendent lets me. +This is where I've lived and worked for nearly two years, and until you +came a minute ago it was where I expected to end. But now it's +different." + +"It is?" says I. "How's that?" + +Which is Tink Tuttle's cue to open up on the story of his life. It's a +soggy, unexcitin' yarn, most of it. As I'd kind of guessed by the way he +talked, he wa'n't just an ordinary fact'ry hand. He'd been through some +high class scientific school up in Massachusetts, where he'd lived +before his father lost his grip. Seems the old man was a crackerjack +boss machinist; but he got to monkeyin' with fool inventions, drifted +from place to place, got to be a lunger, and finally passed in. The last +four years in the fact'ry here had finished him. Tink had worked there, +too, and his sister had married one of the hands. + +"It's the graveyard of the Tuttle family, this place is, I suppose," +says Tink. "It got father, and it has almost got me. Some folks can +breathe brass filings and carbon dioxide and thrive on it; but we can't. +So I gave up and hid myself away in here to work out one of my silly +dreams. Last spring I caught a bad cold, and Sister sent me West. There +we have an uncle. She thought the change of climate might help my cough. +It didn't do a bit of good; but it was out there that I picked up this +option. That was when I saw a chance of making my dream come true. You +saw what I've been building, didn't you, as we came through?" + +"I didn't notice," says I. "What is it, anyway?" + +[Illustration: "TUT, TUT," SAYS THE BOSS OF THE RESTORIUM.] + +"Wait until I light the lantern," says Tuttle. "Now come. This way. +Don't hit your head on those wings. There!" + +And, say, it's a wonder I could walk right by a thing of that kind +without gettin' next, even if it was kind of dark. But all I needs now +is one glimpse of the outlines. + +"Oho!" says I. "A flyer! Say, every bughouse in the country is at work +on one of them." + +"I suppose so," says he. "I may be as big a fool as any of them, too; +but I think I know what I'm doing. At any rate, I've put my last dollar +into it. That's why my sister is so----Well, she thinks I am----" + +"Yes, I suspicioned she was some sore on you," says I. "But what sort of +a flyer is this, double or single winger?" + +"It's a biplane," says Tuttle, "on the Farnham type, only an improved +model." + +"Of course it's improved," says I. "Tried her out yet!" + +"Hardly," says he. "I couldn't buy an engine, you see. That's what I've +been waiting for. Say, you really think the Corrugated will take that +option, do you? If they only would!" + +"You must be in a hurry to break your neck," says I. + +Before I left, though, he'd shown me all over the thing, explained how +it was goin' to work, and did his best to get me as excited as he was. +Also I makes him give me the full details of how he come to get this +option, and I advises him if he does manage to cash it in for two +thousand, to take an ax to his flying machine and hike out for some lung +preservin' climate where he'll have a chance to shake that cough. + +"Thanks," says he, grippin' my hand and chokin' up. "You--you've been +mighty good to me. I'll remember it." + +Course, I gives Mr. Ellins the whole tale in the mornin', about Tuttle +and his bum air pumps, and his batty scheme of buildin' the flyer; but +all that interests Old Hickory is the option and the price. + +"Good work, Torchy," says he. "I've wired our Western agents to +investigate, and if they report an O. K., Tuttle shall have his two +thousand to do what he likes with." + +It must have been two weeks later, and I'd almost forgot the case, when +one mornin' I gets a note from Tinkham J., askin' me to come over to the +shed as quick as I could. Well, I didn't know whether he was havin' a +final spasm or not; but it seemed like I ought to go, so that night I +does. I finds him waitin' for me at the yard gate. He don't look any +worse than usual, either. + +"Well," says I, "didn't the deal go through?" + +"It did," says he, pattin' me on the back. "Thanks to you, it did. The +check came two days later, and I've spent it all." + +"What!" says I. "You don't mean to say you blew all that in on an engine +for that blamed----" + +"All but a few dollars that I put into oil and gasoline," says he. "But +the machine is all hooked up, Torchy, and it works. Do you hear that? It +works! I've been up!" + +"Up?" says I. + +"Not far," says he; "but enough to know what I can do. Started right +here from the yard, just at daylight, and landed here again. I've told +no one else, you know. Come in and see how smooth the engine works." + +And it was just while he was gettin' ready to start the wheels that +these two strangers butts in on us. One is a husky, red faced, swell +dressed young sport, and the other is a tall, swivel eyed, middle aged +gent dressed in khaki. They walks around the machine without payin' any +attention to me or Tuttle. + +"Well, what do you think of it, Captain?" says the young sport after a +while. + +The Captain, he shakes his head. "I can't tell positively," says he; +"but these planes seem to me to be set entirely wrong. I never saw +deflectors worked on that principle before, either. The theory may be +good; but in a practical test----" + +"They say he's made flight, though," breaks in the young sport. "The +night watchman saw him. Hey! You're the chap that built this aëroplane, +aren't you?" + +"Yes, sir," says Tuttle. + +"And didn't you make a flight?" he wants to know. + +"A short one," says Tuttle. + +"That's enough for me," says the sport. "Say, you know who I am, don't +you?" + +"Oh, yes," says Tuttle. "At least, I ought to. You're Bradish Jones, +Jr., one of the owner's sons." + +"That's right," says young Mr. Jones. "And I know you. You're the son of +old Tuttle, who used to be foreman of the machine shop when I was doing +my apprentice work. Thought this little trick of yours was a secret, +didn't you? But I heard about it. Lucky for you I did, too. I'm in the +market. I don't care a hoot what the Captain says, either. I want a +flyer, and I'm ready to take a chance on yours. What do you want for +it?" + +"Why," says Tuttle, "I don't believe I want to sell." + +"What's that?" snaps Bradish. "Come, now! Don't try to bluff me! I'll +admit I'm in a hurry. These Curtiss people have been holding me off for +a month, and I want to begin flying right away. So name your price. How +much?" + +But Tuttle, he only shakes his head. + +"Oh, yes, you will," says Bradish. "Why, you've hardly a dollar to your +name. You can't afford to own a flyer, even if you did build it. You +know you can't. Now show me what it cost you, and I'll give you a +thousand for your work and a hundred a week until I learn to manage the +thing. Is it a go?" + +"No!" says Tuttle, sharp and quick, them big eyes of his fairly blazin'. +"This is my machine, and I'm going to fly it. I don't care how much +money you've got. You've taken a sudden whim that you'd like to fly. +It's been the one dream of my life. You've had your yachts and your +racing cars. I've never had anything but hard work. My father wore +himself out in your stinking old factory. I nearly did the same. But +you can't rob me of this. You sha'n't, that's all!" + +And for a minute them two stood there givin' each other the assault and +batt'ry stare, without sayin' a word. A queer lookin' pair they made, +too; this Bradish gent, big and beefy and prosperous, and Tink Tuttle, +his greasy old coat hangin' loose on his skinny shoulders, and lookin' +like he was on his way from the accident ward to the coroner's office. + +"Five thousand cash, then," growls Mr. Jones. + +"Not if you said fifty!" Tink comes back at him. + +"Bah!" says Bradish. "Why, I could have you and your machine thrown out +in the road this minute. But I'll give you twenty-four hours to think it +over. Remember, to-morrow night at six I'll be here with the money. Then +it will be either sell or go. Come, Captain," and with that they pikes +out. + +"Say, Tink," says I, "you got him comin', all right, and if you don't +get that five thousand you're no good." + +"I know I'm no good," says Tuttle. "That's why I don't want his money." + +"But see here, Tink," says I. "You ain't goin' to turn down an offer +like that, are you?" + +"I am," says he, "and I'll tell you why. It's because I know I'm no good +and never would be any good, even if I could live, which I can't. Oh, I +don't need any doctor to tell me how much longer I've got. They gave me +only three months over a year ago. I knew better. I knew I should hold +out until I finished my flyer. Father didn't have anything like that to +keep on for; so he went quicker. He didn't want to go, either. And it +was awful to watch him, Torchy, just awful! But I'm not going to finish +that way. No, not now," and he walks up to the machine and runs his +hand loving along one of the smooth planes. + +"How's that?" says I. "What are you drivin' at, Tink?" + +"I can't tell you how I shall do it exactly," says he; "for I'm not +sure. But I mean to go up once; way, way up, out over the ocean just at +sunrise. Won't that be fine, eh? Just think! Sailing off up there into +the blue; up, and up, and up; higher than anyone has ever dared to go +before, higher and higher, until your gasoline gives out and you can't +go any more!" + +"Yes; but what then?" says I, beginnin' to feel some chilly along the +spine. + +"Why, that's enough, isn't it?" says he. "Anyway, it's all I ask. I'll +call it all quits then." + +"Ah, say, cut out the tragedy!" says I. "You give me the creeps, talkin' +that rot! What you want to do is to go up for a short sail if you can, +forget to try any Hamilton stunts, and then beat it back to collect that +five thousand while the collectin's good. Say, when do you try her +again?" + +"At daylight to-morrow morning," says he. + +"Gee!" says I. "I've got a notion to stick around and watch how you come +out." + +"No, don't," says he. "I--I'll let you know. Yes, honest I will. +Goodnight and--good-by." He kept his word as well as he could, too. The +postmark on the card was six A.M.; but I guess it must have been dropped +in the box earlier than that. All it says is: + + Twenty gallons in the tank, and I'm off at four o'clock. I shall go + straight out to sea and then up, up. I've never been much good; but + I mean to finish in style. T. T. + +Now, what would you say to a batty proposition like that? I couldn't +tell whether it was a bluff, or what. And I waits four days before I had +the nerve to go and see. + +Sister says she ain't seen him since last Monday. And there was no flyer +in the shed. Nobody around the place knew what had become of it, either. + +Well, it's been two weeks since I got that postal. What do I think? Say, +honest, I don't dare. But at night, when I'm tryin' to get to sleep, I +can see Tink, sittin' in between all them wires and things, with the +wheel in his hand, and them big eyes of his gazin' down calm and +satisfied, down, down, down, and him ready to take that one last dip to +the finish. And, say, about then I pull the sheets up over my eyes and +shiver. + +"Piddie," says I, "you got more sense than you look to have. Anyway, you +know when to sidestep the nutty ones, don't you?" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +GETTING HERMES ON THE BOUNCE + + +Anybody might of thought, to see me sittin' there in the Ellins lib'ry, +leanin' back luxurious in a big red leather chair lookin' over the +latest magazines, that I'd been promoted from head office boy to heir +apparent or something like that. I expect some kids would have stood on +one leg in the front hall and held their breath; but why not make +yourself to home when you get the chance? I knew the boss was takin' his +time goin' through all them papers I'd brought up, and that when he +finished he'd send down word if there was any instructions to go back. + +That's how I come to get the benefit of all this mushy conversation that +begins to drift out from the next room. First off I couldn't make out +whether it was some one havin' a tooth plugged, or if it was a case of a +mouse bein' loose at a tea party. Course, the squeals and giggles I +could place as comin' from Miss Marjorie Ellins. Maybe you remember +about Mr. Robert's heavyweight young sister that wanted to play Juliet +once? + +But who the other party was I didn't have an idea, except that from the +"you-alls" she was usin' I knew she must hail from somewhere south of +Baltimore. + +Anyway, they seemed to be too much excited to sit down while they +talked, and the first thing I knew they'd drifted into the lib'ry, their +arms twined around each other in a reg'lar schoolgirl clinch, and the +conversation just bubblin' out of 'em free. + +Miss Marjorie was all got up classy in pink and white, and she sure does +look like a wide, corn fed Venus. The other is a slim, willowy young +lady with a lot of home grown blond hair, a cute chin dimple, and a pair +of big dark eyes with a natural rovin' disposition. And she's hobble +skirted to the point where her feet was about as much use as if they'd +been tied in a bag. + +It was some kind of a long winded story she was tellin' very +confidential, with Marjorie supplyin' the exclamation points. + +"Really, now, was he, Mildred?" says Marjorie. + +"'Deed and 'deedy, he was!" says Mildred. "Positively the handsomest man +I ever saw! I thought I could forget him; but I couldn't, Madge, I +couldn't! And only think, he is coming this very night, and not a soul +knows but just us two!" + +"Excuse me," says I; "but I'm Number Three." + +"Oh, oh!" they both squeals at once. + +"Who--who's that?" whispers Mildred. + +"Why it's only Torchy, from Papa's office," says Marjorie. "And oh, +Mildred! He is the very one to help us! You will now, won't you, Torchy? +Come, that's a dear!" + +"Please do, Torchy!" says Mildred, snugglin' up on the other side and +pattin' my red hair soothin'. + +"Ah, say, reverse English on the tootsy business!" says I. "This ain't +any heart-throb matinee. G'wan!" + +"Why, Torchy!" says Marjorie, real coaxin' "I thought we were such good +friends!" + +"Well, I'm willin' to let it go that far," says I; "but don't try to +ring in any folksy strangers. I'm here on business for the firm." + +Just then too down comes the maid sayin' there wa'n't anything to go +back; so I starts to beat it. + +I didn't get far, though, with a hundred and ninety pound young lady +blockin' the doorway. + +"Torchy, you must help us!" says Marjorie. "There isn't anyone else we +can ask. And you're always doing such clever things for Papa and Brother +Bob!" + +Say, it was a puffy lot of hot air she hands out; but I admit that after +two or three more speeches like that, and with her promisin' to square +anything Piddie might have to say about not comin' back, she had me +goin'. + +"Well, what's the proposition?" says I. + +"Let's tell him all, so he will understand just what he's to do," +suggests Marjorie. + +And, say, you should have heard them two, with me pinned in between 'em +on the couch, givin' me the tale in a sort of chorus, both talkin' to +once and beginnin' at diff'rent ends. + +"It's such a romance!" squeals Marjorie. + +"You see, he's coming to-night," says Mildred, "and nobody knows." + +"Yes, I got that all down," says I; "but what's the first part? Who is +he and where's he from?" + +Well, it's some yarn, all right! Seems that Mildred was a boardin' +school chum of Marjorie's who'd come up from Atlanta to spend the summer +with friends in Newport. As a wind-up to the season they'd taken her on +a yachtin' trip up the coast. Such a poky old trip, too! Nobody aboard +but old married folks that played bridge all the time, and one bald +headed bachelor who couldn't sit out in the moonlight with her unless he +was wrapped up in a steamer rug. + +So what was a girl with eyes like Mildred's to do, anyway? She was bein' +bored to death, when, as luck would have it, something went wrong with +the propeller shaft. The yacht was 'way up off the coast of Maine at the +time, and the nearest place where it was safe to anchor was in the lee +of a barren, dinky little island. And they stays there three whole days, +while the crew tinkers things up below and the folks yawn their heads +off. + +All but Millie. She got so desp'rate she rowed ashore all by herself. +Accordin' to her description, that must have been a perfectly punk +little island. It was all rock, except in a few spots where there was +some scrub bushes and mangy grass. Plunk in the middle was an old shack +of a house surrounded by lobster pots and racks of codfish spread out to +dry, and she says it was the smelliest scenery she'd ever got real close +to. + +But Mildred was sore on the yacht and all the stupid folks on it; so she +wanders out to windward of the worst smells, plants herself on the +flattest rock she can find, and prepares to read. That's her pose when +she looks up and discovers this male party with the sun kissed locks and +the dreamy eyes standin' there gazin' at her curious. + +"It wasn't Adonis that I called him," says Mildred. "Who was that +stunning old Greek that we had the bust of in the school library, +Madge?" + +"Hermes?" says Marjorie. + +"That's it!" says Mildred. "He was a perfect Hermes; only his curly hair +was all sun bleached, and his face was tanned a lovely brown, and he had +big, broad shoulders, and--and he was smoking a pipe." + +"And about his eyes!" prompts Marjorie. + +"Oh, they were perfectly stunning," says she, "real sea blue." + +Well, anybody that ever read a midsummer fiction number could have +supplied the next chapters. Here's the lovely city girl, the noble +browed but unsuspectin' native, golden summer days, and no competition. +Why, with a catchy title and a few mushy pictures it would make a lovely +contribution to one of the leadin' thirty-five-centers, just as it +stood. And Mildred knew her cue, all right. She trains them front row +eyes of hers on him, opens up with a few lines of lively chatter, and +inside of half an hour she has him sittin' picturesque at her feet, +callin' him Hermes of the Lobster Pots, and otherwise workin' the siren +spell. + +"You must have flirted horribly with him," says Marjorie, sighin' deep +and admirin'. + +"What else could one do?" asks Mildred. "And it was such fun! I could +get him to say hardly anything about himself; but he was a charming +listener. He would sit and gaze at me in the most soulful, appreciative +way. Poor chap!" + +He must have had her guessin' some at that; for she wa'n't dead sure +whether he was a real native or not until the boss of the island shows +up. He's a hump shouldered, leather faced, bushy browed old barnacle, +with a Down East dialect that it was a dream to listen to, and it was +only when Mildred heard Hermes call him Uncle Jerry that she could +believe the two was any relation. Uncle Jerry didn't interfere, though +He let 'em moon around on the rocks without disturbin' the game, and I +judge from Millie's report that she wa'n't missin' any tricks. + +Yet she's right there with the heartless behavior when the time comes, +sailin' away with a gay laugh and leavin' her blue eyed young lobster +man to yearn and mourn there on his smelly little island. Anyway, that's +how she had it doped out. + +And it wa'n't until weeks later, when she'd had her snapshots of him +developed and printed, and got to summin' up the details in this case of +Victim B-23, that she discovers how a few of her own heartstrings has +been strained. Somehow she couldn't seem to tear them three August days +completely off the calendar; and when the other chappies come buzzin' +around, and she had a chance to frame 'em up alongside of this fish +island hero, there wa'n't but one answer. It was Hermes for hers, every +day in the week! + +There he was, though, out on that mussy rock; and here she was, visitin' +in New York, leadin' the giddy life, and gettin' her gowns ready for the +Horse Show. If Millie had passed out the heartaches casual along her +former trails, here was where she gets at least one of 'em back on the +rebound. + +You can guess how bad an attack she had when she crosses all the new +Reggie boys off her string and cooks up this scheme of sendin' for +Hermes to come to her. Her excuse is that she wants Uncle Jerry to have +the trip of his life by coming to the great city; but incident'lly she +urges him to bring his blue eyed nephew along, and the check she sends +is big enough to cover expenses for both. Bein' one of the impulsive +kind, she does it the minute the notion strikes her; and two days later +comes this postal from Uncle Jerry, sayin' how he was much obliged, and +him and his nevvy was takin' the boat for Bosting and expected to fetch +up in New York sometime next afternoon by train. + +"Which is now," says Mildred. "But of course I can't go to the Grand +Central to meet him." + +"Why not?" says I. "Why balk at a little thing like that when you've +been doin' so well?" + +"Oh, but, Torchy," chimes in Marjorie, "you know you could do it so much +better!" + +And what with both of them coaxin', and stuffin' expense money into my +pockets, the next thing I know I'm on my way down to where the Boston +trains come in, and am campin' outside the gate. I nearly wore my eyes +out, too, sizin' up the first trainload, and after an hour's wait I was +gettin' dizzy keepin' track of the second lot, when all of a sudden I +spots this old chap with the thick underbrush over his eyes and the sole +leather complexion. + +"Oh, you Uncle Jerry!" I sings out, takin' a chance and pushin' through +the crowd with my hand out. + +"Wall, how be ye?" says he, real hearty. "Don't remember seein' you +afore; but I s'pose it's all right." + +"Sure it is, old scout," says I. "If you're Uncle Jerry, I'm Miss +Mildred's reception committee; but where's the nephew?" + +"That's him," says he, jerkin' his thumb at a big, overgrown, tow haired +yawp that's trailin' along in the rear luggin' a canvas valise. + +"You don't mean to tell me that's Hermes?" says I. + +"I dun'no 'bout any Hermes," says he; "but this is my sister's boy Jake, +the only nephew I got, and, bein' as how Miss Mildred asked so special, +I brought him along." + +Course, there's no accountin' for tastes, specially in a romantic young +lady like her; but, if this was her idea of livin' Greek statuary, she +sure was easy pleased. Why, of all the rough necked Rubes! He's one of +these loose jawed, open mouthed, lop sided youths that walks like he was +afraid of steppin' on his own feet, and looks about as much alive as a +tin rabbit that can wiggle its ears when you pull a string. His hair and +complexion was accordin' to specifications, I admit, and his eyes were +as blue as a new set of lunch counter crockery; and if he was all Uncle +Jerry could show in the nephew line, then he must be it. + +"All right," says I. "It ain't me that's pickin' him. Now fall in line +right behind me, and we'll work out where he won't get run down by +baggage trucks or be mistaken by excursionists for a spray of autumn +leaves." + +"Young lady didn't come down to the train, hey?" says Uncle Jerry. + +"No, it makes her kind of nervous to see the cars come in," says I. +"You're due to meet her this evenin', Uncle, you and Hermes." + +You see, accordin' to the plan, I was to stow the pair to some hotel, +see that they was fed, keep 'em busy durin' the early part of the +evenin', and round 'em up at a big society crush where Marjorie knew +the folks well enough so she could ask favors. If Mildred had 'em come +where she was visitin', there'd be no end of questions asked; but if she +sort of ran across 'em by accident at a place where there was a crowd, +and could have a few words with Hermes in some quiet corner, nobody +would be the wiser. + +It was this last part of the programme I had in mind as I was sizin' up +Jake's travelin' costume. And, say, how is it up there in the opodeldoc +zone that they can get these high-water pant legs to fit so much like +lengths of stovepipe? They was kind of a bilious brown and cut gen'rous +in the seat; but, as far as real comic relief went, they wa'n't in it +with the cute little short tailed cutaway that he sported above 'em. +Honest, that coat was enough to make an eccentric song and dance artist +green in the eyes! And you can believe me when I say I didn't lose any +time in scootin' 'em down Fourth-ave. to a dollar a day house patronized +by some of our swellest Texas buyers. My next move is to make a report +over the 'phone. + +"Yep, I got 'em both under lock and key," says I to Marjorie. "Trouble +to pick em out? Ah, it was a pipe! Specimens like that ain't so common +anyone could get mixed if they knew what day to look for 'em. Yes, the +nephew's along, all right. His real name is Jake. Well, Hermes if you +insist. But, say, ask Miss Mildred if she wants him delivered in the +original package, or should I hire some open face clothes for him." + +The decision is that Hermes must come in a dress suit, and if he ain't +got any with him Marjorie will send down one of Mr. Robert's old ones. + +"Oh, I'm just dying to see him in evening clothes!" gushes Mildred over +the wire. "I know he'll be perfectly splendid!" + +"Maybe," says I. "Only don't forget the collar buttons and studs for the +dress shirt." + +Say, I won't dwell on the gay time I had tryin' to keep that pair out of +sight until after dinner. Honest, if I'd been drivin' the monkey cage in +a circus parade I'd felt a lot better; for every fresh gink that pipes +off that vaudeville costume of Jake's has to have his say about it. At +the hash house where I steers 'em up against a twenty-five-cent course +dinner all the girl waiters got to gigglin' like they'd never seen a +freak before. + +It wouldn't have been so bad with just Uncle Jerry, for he's wearin' an +old black whipcord that would pass in the dark, and, outside the rubber +collar and the plated watch chain looped across his vest, he didn't have +the crossroads tag on him very plain; but Jake might as well have had +cowbells tied to him. Maybe I wa'n't some relieved too when we got back +to the hotel and found this outfit that the girls had scraped together +and sent down. + +"Now we'll fix you up for the theater and high society, Jake," says I. +"By rights you ought to have some of that neck hemp sheared off; but I +don't dare let a barber loose at you, for fear Mildred wouldn't know you +after he got through. She raved a lot about that hair of yours, Jake." + +"You go on now, Smarty!" says Jaky boy, grinnin' expansive. "Think I'm +goin' to wear duds like them?" + +"You do if you appear out again with me," says I. "So peel the butternut +regalia and lemme see if I can harness you up in these." + +"Hee-haw!" remarks Uncle Jerry. "Let him fix you up real harnsome, +Jake." + +Maybe that's what I did; but I wouldn't want to swear to it. Anyway, I +got him into the dress shirt by main strength. That was the first +struggle. Then, while Uncle Jerry held him gaspin' and groanin' on the +floor, I buttoned the high collar on and fastened the white tie. Next we +ended him up on his feet and pulled on the display vest and the long +tailed coat. + +"Ug-g-gh! It chokes somethin' awful!" says Jake, gettin' purple faced +and panicky. + +"Ah, close that pie gangway of yours and breathe natural for a minute!" +says I. "There, you're feelin' better already. Come, pull them knobby +wrists back up into your sleeves. This ain't no swimmin' lesson, you +know. Say, you wear a dress suit like it was so much tin armor. What's +the matter with you, anyway!" + +"I--I don't know," says Jake, tryin' to stretch his head up like a +turkey. "I don't like this." + +"You look it," says I. "But think who's goin' to see you in it later! +First off, though, you're goin' to a show with me. Come on, now; maybe +you'll get used to bein' dressed up by eleven o'clock." + +"'Leven o'clock!" says Uncle Jerry. "Look here, Son, I ain't in the +habit of stayin' up all night, remember. I'll be droppin' off to sleep +for sartin'." + +He don't, though. All through the play, which has been a two years' +scream for Broadway, he sat as solemn as if he was on a coroner's jury +in the presence of the remains. Play actin' was new to Uncle Jerry; but +he wa'n't going to give himself away, and he was just as wide awake as +anybody in the house. + +With Jake it was diff'rent. I expect them washed out blue eyes of his +had taken in so many new scenes since mornin' that they couldn't absorb +any more. Anyway, he gets drowsy before the curtain goes up, and after +he's twisted his neck until he's got it collar broken he settles back +for a comf'table snooze. He looks so calm and peaceful I didn't have the +heart to disturb him, and I only jabbed my elbows in his ribs when he +got to tunin' up the nose music too loud. Besides, I was hopin' a little +nap of two or three hours might leave him some refreshed and in better +shape for exhibitin' to Miss Mildred. For the more I saw of Jake, the +less I could understand how a real live one like Millie could stand for +three days of him, even if she did, discover him on a desert island. And +as for ravin' about him afterwards--well, you never can tell, can you? + +After the play it took Uncle Jerry shakin' on one side and me on the +other to bring Jake back to life from his woodsawin' act. + +"Ah, quit it and give the orchestra a chance!" says I. "And keep them +elbows down! Don't try to stretch here; wait until you get back to the +open fields for that. Yes, it's all over, and you're about to butt into +society; so for Heaven's sake come out of the trance!" + +Not havin' a stretcher handy, we drags him out to the curb, and I blows +some more of my expense account against a taxi, which lands us safe and +sound at this Fifth-ave. number up in the 70's. "Guests of Miss Marjorie +Ellins," was to be the password, and the flunky in satin pants at the +door seems to have been well posted. + +"Yes, sir; right this way, sir," says he, wavin' us down the hall and +shootin' us into a little conservatory nook. "The gentlemen from Maine +are to wait here, and you are to meet Miss Ellins at the foot of the +grand staircase. She will be down in a moment, sir." + +"I get you," says I, and, after cautionin' Jake to keep on his feet +until I came back, I slips out and posts myself behind a potted palm +where I could watch the early arrivals comin' down from the cloakrooms. + +It wa'n't a long wait; for pretty soon down floats Mildred and Marjorie, +all got up in flossy party dresses and fairly quiverin' with excitement. + +"Oh, you dear boy!" gushes Millie. "And he is really here, is he? My +splendid Hermes! Tell me, what did he have to say about it all?" + +"Who, Jake?" says I. "Mostly he was beefin' about the way his neck ached +from the collar." + +"Isn't that just like a man!" says Marjorie. + +"I don't care," says Mildred. "I am just crazy to see him once more. I +want to look into his eyes and----" + +"Then step lively," says I, "before they get glued up for good. Down +this way. Here you are, in there among the palms! See, there's Uncle +Jerry rubberin' around!" + +"Oh, yes!" squeals Millie, clappin' her hands. "Dear old Uncle Jerry! +But--but, Torchy, where is--er--his nephew?" + +"Eh?" says I. "Why, there on the bench, doin' the yawn act!" + +"Wha-a-a-at!" gasps Millie, steppin' in for a closer look. + +"Straight goods," says I. "That's Hermes the lobster picker." + +"That!" says Mildred, shrinkin' back. "Never!" + +"Huh!" says I. "I told him you wouldn't know him if he didn't keep that +face cavity of his closed. He's been doin' that since eight o'clock. But +he's the real article, serial number guaranteed by Uncle Jerry." + +"No, no!" squeals Mildred, covering her face with her hands and backin' +away. "There's been some dreadful mistake! That isn't my Hermes. He +wasn't at all like that, I tell you, not at all!" + +Well, we was grouped there in the hall holdin' our foolish debate, when +this strange gent strolls by huntin' for some place to light up his +cigarette. And just as one of us mentions Hermes again I notices him +turn and prick up his ears. Next thing I knew, he's stepped over and is +lookin' kind of smilin' and expectant at Mildred. + +"I beg pardon if I'm wrong," says he; "but isn't this the--er--ah--the +young lady whom I had the pleasure of----" + +But that's enough for Millie, just hearin' his voice. Down comes her +hands off her face. "Oh, I knew it! I knew it!" she squeals. "Hermes!" + +And, say, I don't know how that old Greek looked; but if he had the +build and lines of this chap he sure was some ornamental. Anyway, the +one we had with us would have been a medal winner in any kind of +clothes. Also he had the light wavy hair and the dark blue eyes of +Millie's description, with some of the vacation tan left on his cheeks. + +Marjorie's the next to be heard from. + +"Why, Mr. Brooke Hartley!" says she, stickin' out her hand. + +"By Jove!" says he. "Bob Ellins' little sister, eh? Hello, Marjorie!" + +"Then--then----" gasps Mildred, lookin' from one to the other kind of +dazed, "then you aren't a lobster man, after all?" + +"Nothing so useful as that, I'm afraid," says Hartley. + +"But why were you there on that island?" she insists. + +"Well," says he, "hay fever was my chief excuse. I pretend to paint +marines, you know, and that's another; but really I suppose I was just +being lazy and enjoying the society of Uncle Jerry." + +"But he isn't your uncle, truly?" says Mildred. + +"Well," says Hartley, "it's a relationship I share with most of the +summer people on that section of the Maine coast." + +Then a light seemed to break on Mildred. She blushes to her eartips and +hides her face in her hands once more. "Oh, oh!" she groans. "And I +called you Hermes!" + +"You did," says he. "And nothing ever tickled my vanity half so much. +I've lived on that for the last two months. Please don't take it back!" + +"I--I won't," says Millie, lettin' loose one of them rovin' glances at +him sort of shy and fetchin'. + +And, say, all tinted up that way, you could hardly blame him for +grabbin' both her hands. Not knowin' what might happen next, I proceeds +to break in. + +"In the meantime," says I, "what'll you have done with this perfectly +good nephew we've got on our hands back there on the bench?" + +"That one!" says Millie. "Oh, I never want to see him again! Tell him to +go away and--and go to bed." + +"That'll be welcome news for Jaky, all right," says I. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +WHEN MISS VEE THREW THE DARE + + +Say, I guess I might as well tell it right out; for, from all I hear +about myself, my dome must have a glass top that puts all the inside +works on exhibition. There's Zenobia, for instance, who's my +half-step-adopted aunt, as you might say. Now, she ain't one to sleuth +around, or cross-examine, or anything like that; but what she's missed +of this little affair that I ain't breathed a word of to anybody is +more'n I've got the nerve to ask. + +Course, it was her put that corkin' silver frame on Vee's picture in the +first place. Just found it on my bureau, you know, and, without pumpin' +me for any account of who and why, goes and unbelts reckless for the +sterling decoration. A perfectly nice old girl, Zenobia is, if you ask +me. More'n a year ago that was, and there hasn't been a word passed +about that photo since. + +Yes, it's been on the bureau all the time. Why not? When a young lady +friend of yours is dragged off to Europe by her aunt, and sends you a +stunnin' picture of herself for you to remember her by, you don't turn +it face to the wall or chuck it in the ashcan, do you? Maybe two years +it would be, she said, before she came back. It ain't so long to look +over your shoulder at; but when you come to try squintin' ahead that far +it's diff'rent. I tried it and gave it up. A whole lot can happen in two +years; so what was the use? Besides, look who she is, and then think of +all I ain't! + +Couldn't help seein' the picture there night and mornin', though, could +I? Nothin' mushy about glancin' casual at it now and then, was there? +You know I ain't got any too many friends,--not so many I has to have a +waitin' list,--and outside of Zenobia and Aunt Martha, and here and +there one of the lady typewriters at the office that throws me a smile +on and off, they're mostly men. And as for fam'ly, mother, or father, or +sisters, or brothers, or real aunts--well, you know how I'm fixed. I'm +the whole fam'ly myself. + +So you see, when I looks at Miss Vee there, and thinks how nice she was +to me them two times when we met by accident,--once at the dance where I +was subbin' in the cloakroom, and again at the tea where I'd been sent +to trail Mr. Robert--well, even if she hadn't been such a queen, I don't +think I'd forgot her right away. Course, though, as for figurin' out +why she ever noticed me at all, that's a myst'ry I had to pass up. + +Must have been soon after she went away that I begun sizin' up some +critical the gen'ral style and get up of the party whose hair I was +combin' and whose face I was washin' more or less reg'lar. Startin' with +the collar, I discovered that mine gen'rally had saw edges, gaped in the +middle, and got some soiled about the third day. From then on I've been +particular about havin' a close front collar and puttin' on a fresh one +every mornin', whether I need it or not. Next I got wise to the fact +that one tie wouldn't last more'n six months without showin' signs of +wear, and it wa'n't long before I had quite a collection hangin' over +the gasjet. Up to then I didn't have the tooth powder habit very strong; +but it's chronic with me now. See the result? + +I didn't stop to give myself reasons for gettin' so finicky; but the one +main fact loomin' up ahead seemed to be that some day or other Miss Vee +would be comin' back, and that maybe I might be on hand to sort +of--well, you know how you'll frame things up? I was to be vice +president of the Corrugated by that time, most likely, and they'd be +sendin' me abroad to look up important matters. That's how it was goin' +to happen that I'd find out where Vee was stayin'. Not that I'd think of +buttin' in on her and the aunt. Not much! Just remember I'd seen Aunty! + +No, I was to be on the steamer, leanin' over the rail careless, when +they came aboard to go home. I was to be costumed all in gray. I don't +know just why; but it looks kind of distinguished, specially if you've +got gray hair. Not that I could count on my ruddy thatch frostin' up +much in a couple of years; but somehow nothing but gray seemed to fill +the bill. I'd planned on gettin' one of them gray tweed suits such as +Mr. Robert wears back from London, and a long gray ulster that'd make me +look tall, and a gray cloth hat to match, and gray gloves. Get the +picture? + +Well, there I am by the rail, lookin' sort of distinguished and bored +and all that, when up comes Miss Vee and Aunty. All I could think of Vee +wearin' was that pink silk affair she had on at the dance, which +wouldn't be exactly what a young lady'd start out on an ocean trip with, +would it? + +She'd be some jarred at seein' me, it's likely; but I'd lift the gray +lid real dignified, throw back the ulster so she'd get the full effect +of the tweed suit, and shoot off some remark about how "one always meets +one's most chawming friends when one travels." Then I'd be presented to +the aunt; and after that was over, why it would be just a romp down the +home stretch, with yours truly all the entry in sight. Simply a case of +me and Vee promenadin' the deck by moonlight for hours and hours, and +gettin' to be real old friends. + +But pipe dreams like that don't often come true, do they? I ain't got so +far as ownin' a pair of gray gloves, and not a word has been said about +makin' me vice president, when along comes this foreign picture +postcard, showin' the Boss de Bologna on one side, and on the other this +scribbled message: + + We sail for home on the 10th. Rah! Rah! Count Schlegelhessen is + coming over with us. He's a dear. V. A. H. + +Jolted! Say, I was up and down so many times durin' the next few hours +I'd most meet myself comin' and goin'. Miss Vee was on her way over! I'd +bounce at that thought, and get all kind of warmed up inside. Count +Schutzenfest is coming with her, and he's a dear! Bang! I'd strike +bottom again, with a chilly feelin' under my vest. + +Wa'n't anything more'n I might have looked for, of course. Aunty's one +of the kind that would pick out a Count for Miss Vee, and there was +plenty of Counts over there to be picked; but somehow I couldn't picture +Vee goin' wild over one of them foreign ginks. It was clear she had, +though. There it was on the postcard, "He's a dear!" + +"Huh!" thinks I. "Most of 'em are dear--at any price." + +It wa'n't for hours, either, that I simmers down enough for the thought +to strike me that I didn't have any special license to hold a court of +inquiry over whether Miss Vee was comin' back with a Count or not. After +that I had time to debate with myself whether I ought just to forgive +and forget, goin' through life cold and sad; or if I should hide my +busted heart the best way I could and pretend I didn't care. + +Was there any use in my goin' down to the pier and standin' in the +background to watch her come ashore with her dear Count? I could see +myself! Oh, yes, I had it all doped out along them lines! As Robert +Mantell would put it over, "She has went out of muh life for-r-r-rever." +Ah yes! I could have stood for anything but one of them sausage Counts. + +So I stows her picture away in the bottom bureau drawer, burns the +postcard, and dodges Zenobia's eye when she looks at me curious. It was +all over. Yet I knew to an hour when her steamer would dock, and the +mornin' of the day it was due I rolls out of the feathers at six A.M. +Just as natural as could be too, I gets out the new safety razor I'd had +hid away for a couple of months past, and inside of fifteen minutes I'd +had my first shave. Does that get by them keen eyes of Zenobia! Not for +a minute! + +"Ah!" says she, pattin' me sort of casual on one cheek as she comes down +to breakfast. + +That's all; but she not only takes in the shave, but the best blue serge +suit I've put on, and the birthday tie, and the Sunday shoes. I only +grins sheepish and slides out as soon as I can. + +You see, accordin' to my plans, I wouldn't have gone near that steamer +for any sum you could name. That being the case, it was odd I should +call up the pier and find out if the boat was on time at Quarantine. +Also it was some strange the way I opened up on Piddie. + +"Say, Mr. Piddie," says I, "any prospects of an outside run for me +to-day?" + +"Not in the least," says he. "I suppose, though, you would like a chance +to waste some of the company's time on the street?" + +"Me?" says I. "Why, I'd hate it. I was only afraid I'd have to go, with +all this inside work to be done." + +"Humph!" says he. "You needn't fear. I shall see that nothing of the +sort happens." + +"Ah, you're a bird, you are!" says I. + +"Perhaps," says Piddie. + +"Then climb a tree and twitter," says I; for it made me grouchy to think +I'd let a bonehead like him get a rise out of me. + +The more I chewed it over, though, the stronger I was for breakin' loose +about dockin' time. Maybe I didn't want to go to the pier; but if he was +bent on throwin' the gate on me, that was another proposition. I got +sorer and sorer and I was on the point of chuckin' the job at Piddie's +head and walkin' out on my own hook, when who should come stormin' in, +scowlin' and grumblin' to himself, but Mr. Robert. And he had a worse +attack than I did. + +"Torchy," says he, wheelin' around halfway to his office, "ring up Pier +Umpty-nine and find out when that blasted steamer is due." + +"The Kaiser boat?" says I. "She'll dock about two-forty-five." + +"Eh?" says he, some startled. "Now, how the----Never mind, though. Sure +about the time, are you?" + +"Yep," says I. + +"Dash it all!" says he. "That's Marjorie, though! Any word from the +Consolidated Bridge people yet?" + +"Not yet," says I, and slam goes his door. + +Took me three minutes by the clock to dope out the combination too, +which shows how gummed up my gears was. But when I'd fitted them two +remarks together, about Marjorie and the bridge people, and had +remembered the cablegram from Sister Marjorie sayin' how their party'd +been broken up on account of sickness and she was comin' home +alone--why, it was all like readin' it off a bulletin. Marjorie's +arrivin' durin' business hours was likely to mess up the schedule. +Course, if the bridge concern didn't send word---- + +I'd got to that point, when in drifts my old A. D. T. runnin' mate, +Hunch Leary, draggin' his feet behind him and chewin' gum industrious. +Now Hunch don't look like a tempter. He's plain homely, that's all. But +comin' just as he did, with Piddie over there glarin' at me +suspicious--well, I just had to do it. + +"Sure I got blanks on me?" says Hunch. "Wot then?" + +Right under Piddie's nose he fixes it up too, and waits while I takes +the phony message in to Mr. Robert. It wa'n't such a raw one, either; +not as if it had sent him off to wait at some hotel. "Will try to get +around about two-thirty Trimble," was all it said. And how did we know +Trimble wouldn't try, anyway? + +"That settles it," says Mr. Robert, crumplin' the yellow sheet. "Torchy, +you must do the family honors." + +"Do which?" says I, with business of great surprise. + +"Meet my sister Marjorie, see that she gets through the customs without +landing in jail, and take her home in a taxi. Think you're equal to it, +eh?" says he. + +"I could make a stab," says I. + +"I'll risk that much," says he. + +And before there's any chance for a revise I've marched by Piddie with +my tongue out and am pikin' towards the North River with a pier pass in +one pocket and expense money in another, specially commissioned to meet +the very steamer that's bringin' in Miss Vee and her Count. All of which +shows how curious things will coincide if you use your bean a little to +help 'em along. + +Well, you know how it is waitin' in a push of people for a steamer. +Everybody's excited and anxious and keyed up, ready to jump at every +whistle, and stretchin' their necks for a peek down the river. It's as +catchin' as the baseball fever when you're in a mob watchin' the scores +posted. I finds myself actin' just as eager as any, and me only doin' +messenger work. + +Finally the boat shows up; but instead of sailin' in graceful and +prompt, she shuts off steam and lays to out in the middle of the river, +about as lifeless as a storage warehouse afloat, while a dozen or so +dinky tugs begin pushin' and pullin' to get her somewhere near the pier. +Then folks start makin' wild guesses as to which is their friends. + +"There's Uncle Fred, Willie!" squeals a fat woman next to me, proddin' +me vigorous in the ribs. + +"Not mine, ma'am," says I. + +"Oh, excuse me," says she. "Why, there's Willie, over there. Hey, +Willie! See Uncle Fred?" + +It was that way all around me, and me not even doin' the wave act. After +awhile though, I spots Marjorie. There was no doubt about it being her; +for she looms up among that crowd along the rail like a prize Florida +orange in a basket of lemons. It's plain Marjorie ain't lost any weight +by her trip abroad, and she looks more like a corn fed Juliet than ever. + +As she wa'n't expectin' me, but was huntin' for Brother Robert, I didn't +see the sense in shoutin'. I went on lookin' over the rest of the +passengers, sort of bracin' myself for any discovery I might make. Would +they show up arm in arm, or with their heads close together, or how? + +I'd looked the boat over from bow to stern and back again about three +times before I happens to take another glance at Marjorie. And there, +almost hid by one side of her, was a young lady in a white sailor hat +with some straw colored hair showin' under the wide brim, and a pair of +gray eyes that I couldn't mistake anywhere. It was Vee, all right; just +as slim and graceful and classy as ever, with the same independent tilt +to her chin, and the same Mayflower pink showin' in her cheeks. + +And, say, I want to tell you that about then I was glad I came! It +didn't make any difference if there was half a dozen Counts, and a Duke +and what not besides; just seein' her once more, even if I didn't get a +chance to put over a word, was worth while. And right there I makes up +my mind that, Count or no Count, I'm goin' to push to the front. + +"Oh, you Miss Vee!" I megaphones through my hands, just as enthusiastic +as anybody on the pier. + +About the third call catches her ear. She sort of starts and gazes at +the crowd kind of puzzled. There's such a mob, though, she don't pick me +out. I could see her turn to Marjorie and say something, and then I gets +wise to the fact that the four-eyed gent with the bristly hair and the +half gray set of shavin' brush mustaches, standin' next to Marjorie, was +one of their party. Miss Vee leans over and passes along some remark to +him, and he shrugs his shoulders and says something that makes 'em both +laugh. + +"If that's the Count," thinks I, "he's a punk specimen." + +A couple of minutes later the boat comes alongside and the passengers +break away from the rail to get in line for the gangplank. As I'm there +to welcome Miss Marjorie Ellins, I has to post myself near the E +section, and inside of fifteen minutes she's all through havin' her +suitcase and steamer trunk pawed over, and leavin' the hold baggage to +be claimed later, we streams out to where I had a cab waitin'. + +"Is it all aboard, Miss Marjorie?" says I. + +"Not yet," says she. "You see, I've asked Vee to come home with me for +dinner--the girl I met on the steamer. You don't mind waiting, do you?" + +Did I? Say, nobody would suspect it, I guess, by the grin I had on when +she and Aunty and the four-eyed party comes trailin' out. + +"Say, Miss Marjorie," says I, "is that Count Schutzenbund?" + +"Schlegelhessen," says Marjorie, "and he's a perfect----" + +"Yes, I've heard he was," says I. "Little antique, though, ain't he?" + +"Why, he isn't forty!" says Marjorie. "And he's just too----" + +There wa'n't time for any more bouquets, though; for the trio was too +close. Must have been some of a surprise for Vee to see me waitin' +there, and for a bit she don't seem to make out just who it is. That +only lasts a second, though. Then them gray eyes of hers lights up, and +them thin lips curls into a smile, and she holds out both hands in that +quick way of hers. + +"Why, it's Torchy, isn't it?" says she, half laughin'. + +"Uh-huh," says I, lettin' the grin spread wider. "Can't shake the name +or the hair." + +"Never try," says she. "Look, Aunty, here's Torchy!" + +"Torchy?" says the wide old girl, inspectin' me doubtful through her +lorgnette. "Why, Verona, I don't remember----" + +"Oh, yes, you do, Aunty," says Miss Vee. "Anyway, I've told you about +him, and it's so jolly to have some one to meet us. Thank you, Torchy. +Now let's see, Marjorie, how do we divide up? Aunty goes to her +hotel--and--and where do you go, Count?" + +"Me, I am--what you call--perplex," says the Count, and he sure looked +it. "But where the young ladies go, there I will follow. _Hein?_" + +He shrugs his shoulders again and puts on such a comical face that it's +no wonder the girls giggled. And that one act maps out the Count for me. +He's just one of them middle aged cut-ups that's amusin' to have around, +if the sessions ain't too frequent. Follow the young ladies, would he? +Say, there was only three inside seats to my taxi, and I hadn't planned +on ridin' with the driver. + +"Lemme fix that for you, Count," says I. "Hey, Cabby!" and I whistles up +a second taxi. "What's the number, ma'am?" I asks of Aunty. "Oh, +Perzazzer hotel. Get that, Mr. Shuffer? Here you are, Count, right in +here!" + +"But is it that--er--the young ladies, you see," he protests. "I haf +bromise myself the bleasure to----" + +"Yes, that'll be all right too," says I. "They'll do the followin', +though, about a block behind. In you go, now!" and I shoves him +alongside of Aunty, shuts the door, and gives the startin' signal. + +Maybe it was a nervy thing, shuntin' the Count off like that, and +Marjorie seems sort of disappointed and dazed to find he ain't comin' +with us, but by the twinkle in Miss Vee's eyes I guessed I hadn't +overplayed my part. Anyway, we had a nice chatty ride on the way up, +with Marjorie doin' most of the chattin'. Looked like that was going to +be about as far as I'd figure too, for there wa'n't a chance of my +gettin' a word in edgewise; but when we fetched up in front of the +Ellins' house Miss Vee breaks in with delay orders. + +"No, Marjorie," says she; "you first. Run in and see if it's all right; +and if there isn't a dinner party on, or a houseful of guests, I'll +come. No, I shall wait until you do." + +Course, she didn't plan it that way; but it gives me about six minutes +that was all to the good. + +"You didn't mind my sidetrackin' the Count, eh?" says I. + +"It was lovely--and perfectly absurd!" says Vee. "You know he bores +Aunty to death, and Aunty bores him. He had planned on meeting +Marjorie's mother, too." + +"Then I mussed things up, didn't I?" says I. + +"I believe you did it purposely, you wretch!" says she, shakin' a finger +at me. + +"Who wouldn't?" says I. "See what I get by it!" + +"Silly!" says she. "I've a mind to rumple those red curls." + +"Go on," says I, takin' my hat off. "They'd wiggle for joy." + +"Then I'll do nothing of the kind," says she. "You haven't even said you +were glad to see me." + +"I'm keepin' it a dead secret," says I. "What happened to Europe; was it +on the fritz?" + +"Poky," says she. "And they found out I was no musical genius, after +all. Aunty's disgusted with me." + +"She ought to take something for her taste," says I. + +"Oh!" says she, tiltin' her head on one side. "Then you still approve of +me?" + +"That's the only motto on my wall," says I, "only I put it stronger." + +"Silly!" says she once more. + +And then--well, I was watchin' the pink spread up her cheeks, and was +sort of gazin' into them big gray eyes, and gen'rally takin' one of them +long, lingerin' looks; and we was both leanin' back not so very far +apart, with the slides of the cab shuttin' everything else out--and then +all of a sudden I heard her sort of whisper "Well?"--and--and--Ah, say! +With a pair of cherry ripes as close as that, what else was there to do? + +"Why, Torchy!" says she, jumpin' away. "What made you dare----Quick, +now, here comes Marjorie. Over on the front seat! And--and perhaps I +shall see you again sometime." + +"Your eyesight'll be bad if you don't, Vee," says I. "Good-by." + +Just before the Ellins' front door closed behind her I caught the wave +of a handkerchief; so I guess she can't be so awful mad. Ride back to +the office? Say, I paid off the taxi and floated down Fifth-ave. as +light as if it was paved with gas balloons. + +"Huh!" grunts Mr. Robert, after I'd made my report. "Brought home a +steamer friend, did she? Who did you say it was?" + +"Well, between you and me," says I, "it's Vee. You remember--the one at +the girls' boardin' school tea party when----" + +"Eh?" says he. "Ah, that one? Then it wasn't--er--exactly a hardship for +you to meet this particular steamer, eh, Torchy?" + +"Do I look it?" says I. + +And Mr. Robert he winks back; for, as I happen to know, he's been there +himself. It's that friendly wink though, that makes me remember puttin' +up that game on him with the fake message, and somehow I felt cheap and +mean. Here he was, treatin' me white and square, and I'd been handin' +him a piece of fresh bunk. + +"Mr. Robert," says I, standin' pigeontoed and flushin' up some, "you +remember that message from the bridge people--Trimble, it was signed?" + +"Oh, yes," says he. "He came, all right, about a quarter to three." + +"Gee!" says I, and walks out. + +For when things start comin' your way in clusters like that, what's the +use tryin' to duck? + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +EDGAR RICE BURROUGH'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +TARZAN THE UNTAMED + +Tells of Tarzan's return to the life of the ape-man in his search for +vengeance on those who took from him his wife and home. + + +JUNGLE TALES OF TARZAN + +Records the many wonderful exploits by which Tarzan proves his right to +ape kingship. + + +A PRINCESS OF MARS + +Forty-three million miles from the earth--a succession of the weirdest +and most astounding adventures in fiction. John Carter, American, finds +himself on the planet Mars, battling for a beautiful woman, with the +Green Men of Mars, terrible creatures fifteen feet high, mounted on +horses like dragons. + + +THE GODS OF MARS + +Continuing John Carter's adventures on the Planet Mars, in which he does +battle against the ferocious "plant men," creatures whose mighty tails +swished their victims to instant death, and defies Issus, the terrible +Goddess of Death, whom all Mars worships and reveres. + + +THE WARLORD OF MARS + +Old acquaintances, made in the two other stories, reappear, Tars Tarkas, +Tardos Mors and others. There is a happy ending to the story in the +union of the Warlord, the title conferred upon John Carter, with Dejah +Thoris. + + +THUVIA, MAID OF MARS + +The fourth volume of the series. The story centers around the adventures +of Carthoris, the son of John Carter and Thuvia, daughter of a Martian +Emperor. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD'S STORIES OF ADVENTURE + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +THE RIVER'S END + +A story of the Royal Mounted Police. + + +THE GOLDEN SNARE + +Thrilling adventures in the Far Northland. + + +NOMADS OF THE NORTH + +The story of a bear-cub and a dog. + + +KAZAN + +The tale of a "quarter-strain wolf and three-quarters husky" torn +between the call of the human and his wild mate. + + +BAREE, SON OF KAZAN + +The story of the son of the blind Grey Wolf and the gallant part he +played in the lives of a man and a woman. + + +THE COURAGE OF CAPTAIN PLUM + +The story of the King of Beaver Island, a Mormon colony, and his battle +with Captain Plum. + + +THE DANGER TRAIL + +A tale of love, Indian vengeance, and a mystery of the North. + + +THE HUNTED WOMAN + +A tale of a great fight in the "valley of gold" for a woman. + + +THE FLOWER OF THE NORTH + +The story of Fort o' God, where the wild flavor of the wilderness is +blended with the courtly atmosphere of France. + + +THE GRIZZLY KING + +The story of Thor, the big grizzly. + + +ISOBEL + +A love story of the Far North. + + +THE WOLF HUNTERS + +A thrilling tale of adventure in the Canadian wilderness. + + +THE GOLD HUNTERS + +The story of adventure in the Hudson Bay wilds. + + +THE COURAGE OF MARGE O'DOONE + +Filled with exciting incidents in the land of strong men and women. + + +BACK TO GOD'S COUNTRY + +A thrilling story of the Far North. The great Photoplay was made from +this book. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Torchy, by Sewell Ford + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TORCHY *** + +***** This file should be named 20626-8.txt or 20626-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/6/2/20626/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/20626-8.zip b/20626-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4b56aad --- /dev/null +++ b/20626-8.zip diff --git a/20626-h.zip b/20626-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1f7c09f --- /dev/null +++ b/20626-h.zip diff --git a/20626-h/20626-h.htm b/20626-h/20626-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cda48ca --- /dev/null +++ b/20626-h/20626-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8936 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Torchy, by Sewell Ford. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + /*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ + <!-- + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center; clear: both;} + a {text-decoration: none;} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + .pagenum {right: 1%; font-size: x-small; background-color: inherit; color: gray; + text-indent: 0em; text-align: right; position: absolute; + border: 1px solid silver; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; + font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;} + .blockquot {margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + /* horizontal rules present in text */ + hr.full {width: 100%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + hr.major {width: 75%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + hr.minor {width: 30%; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + /* title block present in text */ + td.pr {padding-right: 10px; vertical-align: top;} + p.titleblock {margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent: 0; text-align: center;} + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + .caption {font-size: 80%;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Torchy, by Sewell Ford + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Torchy + +Author: Sewell Ford + +Illustrator: George Brehm + +Release Date: February 19, 2007 [EBook #20626] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TORCHY *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="illus-001" id="illus-001"></a> +<img src="images/illus-fpc.jpg" alt="I FOUND MYSELF LOOKING SQUARE INTO THEM BIG GRAY EYES. (Frontispiece)" title="" width="400" height="587" /><br /> +<span class="caption">I FOUND MYSELF LOOKING SQUARE INTO THEM BIG GRAY EYES. (Frontispiece)</span> +</div> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<table width="400" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="" border="1"><tr><td> +<p class="titleblock" style="margin-top: 20px; font-size: 220%; margin-bottom: 30px;">TORCHY</p> +<p class="titleblock" style="margin-top: 0px; font-size: 100%; margin-bottom: 5px;">BY</p> +<p class="titleblock" style="margin-top: 0px; font-size: 140%; margin-bottom: 20px;">SEWELL FORD</p> +<p class="titleblock" style="margin-top: 0px; font-size: 80%; margin-bottom: 0px;">AUTHOR OF</p> +<p class="titleblock" style="margin-top: 0px; font-size: 100%; margin-bottom: 80px; font-variant: small-caps;">TRYING OUT TORCHY, Etc.</p> +<p class="titleblock" style="margin-top: 0px; font-size: 100%; margin-bottom: 0px;">FRONTISPIECE BY</p> +<p class="titleblock" style="margin-top: 0px; font-size: 120%; margin-bottom: 40px;">GEORGE BREHM</p> +<p class="titleblock"><img src="images/illus-emb.png" alt="" width="95" height="31" /></p> +<p class="titleblock" style="margin-top: 40px; font-size: 100%; margin-bottom: 0px; letter-spacing: 2px;">NEW YORK</p> +<p class="titleblock" style="margin-top: 0px; font-size: 140%; margin-bottom: 0px; letter-spacing: 2px;">GROSSET & DUNLAP</p> +<p class="titleblock" style="margin-top: 0px; font-size: 100%; margin-bottom: 20px; letter-spacing: 2px;">PUBLISHERS</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p style="font-size:smaller" class="center">Made in the United States of America</p> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<p class="center">Copyright, 1909, 1910, by<br /> +SEWELL FORD</p> +<hr style="width: 10%;" /> +<p class="center">COPYRIGHT, 1911, by<br /> +EDWARD J. CLODE</p> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<table width="400" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="" border="0"><tr><td> +<p class="titleblock" style="margin-top: 0px; font-size: 80%; margin-bottom: 0px;">TO MY</p> +<p class="titleblock" style="margin-top: 0px; font-size: 80%; margin-bottom: 5px;">W. A. C.</p> +<p class="titleblock" style="margin-top: 5px; font-size: 80%; margin-bottom: 0px;">AT WHOSE SUGGESTION THIS</p> +<p class="titleblock" style="margin-top: 0px; font-size: 80%; margin-bottom: 0px;">CHRONICLE OF THE DOINGS OF TORCHY</p> +<p class="titleblock" style="margin-top: 0px; font-size: 80%; margin-bottom: 0px;">CAME TO BE MADE</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<h2><a name="Contents" id="Contents"></a>Contents</h2> +<div class="smcap"> +<table border="0" width="500" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<col style="width:20%;" /> +<col style="width:70%;" /> +<col style="width:10%;" /> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right"><span style="font-size: 80%">CHAPTER</span></td> + <td align="left"></td> + <td align="right"><span style="font-size: 80%">PAGE</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">I</td> + <td align="left">GETTING IN WITH THE GLORY BE</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">II</td> + <td align="left">A JOLT FOR PIDDIE</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">18</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">III</td> + <td align="left">MEETING UP WITH THE GREAT SKID</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">34</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">IV</td> + <td align="left">FROSTING THE PROFESS</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">51</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">V</td> + <td align="left">WHERE MILDRED GOT NEXT</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">67</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">VI</td> + <td align="left">SHUNTING BROTHER BILL</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">83</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">VII</td> + <td align="left">KEEPING TABS ON PIDDIE</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">100</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">VIII</td> + <td align="left">A WHIRL WITH KAZEDKY</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">117</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">IX</td> + <td align="left">DOWN THE BUMPS WITH CLIFFY</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">132</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">X</td> + <td align="left">BACKING OUT OF A FLUFF RIOT</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">148</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XI</td> + <td align="left">RUNG IN WITH THE GOLD SPOONERS</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">162</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XII</td> + <td align="left">LANDING ON A SIDE STREET</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">177</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XIII</td> + <td align="left">FIRST AID FOR THE MAIN STEM</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">193</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XIV</td> + <td align="left">IN ON THE OOLONG</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">209</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XV</td> + <td align="left">BATTING IT UP TO TORCHY</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">226</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XVI</td> + <td align="left">THROWING THE LINE TO SKID</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">241</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XVII</td> + <td align="left">TOUCHING ON TINK TUTTLE</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">258</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XVIII</td> + <td align="left">GETTING HERMES ON THE BOUNCE</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">275</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XIX</td> + <td align="left">WHEN MISS VEE THREW THE DARE</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">294</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +</div> +<hr class='major' /> + +<h1>TORCHY</h1> + +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">1</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2><h3>GETTING IN WITH THE GLORY BE</h3> +</div> + +<p>Sure, I was carryin' the banner. But say, I ain't one of them kids that +gets callouses on the hands doin' it. When I'm handed the fresh air on +payday, I don't choke to death over it. I goes out and rustles for +another job. And I takes my pick, too. Why not? It's just as easy.</p> + +<p>This time I gets a bug that the new Octopus Buildin' might have been put +up special for me. Anyway, it looked good from the outside, and I blows +in through the plate glass merry go round. The arcade was all to the +butterscotch, everything handy, from an A. D. T. stand to Turkish baths +in the basement.</p> + +<p>"Got any express elevators?" says I to the starter guy.</p> + +<p>"Think of buying the buildin', sonny?" says he.</p> + +<p>"There'd be room for you on the sidewalk if I did," says I. "But say, if +you can tear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">2</a></span> your eyes off the candy counter queen long enough, tell me +who's got a sign out this mornin'."</p> + +<p>"They're going to elect a second vice-president of the Interurban +to-day. Would that suit you?" says he, twistin' up his lip whisker and +lookin' cute.</p> + +<p>"Maybe," says I; "but I'd take a portfolio as head office boy if I knew +where to butt in."</p> + +<p>"Then chase up to 2146," says he. "You'll find 'em waitin' for you with +a net. Here's your car. Up!" and before I knows it I has done the +skyrocket act up to floor twenty-one.</p> + +<p>Well say, you wouldn't have thought so many kids read the want ads. and +had the courage to tackle an early breakfast. The corridor was full of +'em, all sizes, all kinds. It looked like recess time at a boys' orphan +asylum, and with me against the field I stood to be a sure loser. I +hadn't no more'n climbed out before they starts to throw the josh my +way.</p> + +<p>"Hey, Reddy, get in line! The foot for yours, Peachblow!" they yells at +me.</p> + +<p>And then I comes back. "Ah, flag it!" says I. "Do I look like I belonged +in your class? Brush by, you three-dollar pikers, and give a salaried +man a show!"</p> + +<p>With that I makes a quick rush at 2146 and gets through the door before +they has time to make a howl. The letterin' on the ground<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">3</a></span> glass was +what got me. It said as how this was the home office of the Glory Be +Mining Company, and there was a string of high-toned names as long as +your arm. But the minute I sizes up the inside exhibit I wasn't so +anxious. I was lookin' for about a thousand feet of floor space; but all +I could see was a couple of six by nines, includin' a clothes closet and +a corner washbowl. There was a grand aggregation of two as an office +force. One was a young lady key pounder, with enough hair piled on top +of her head to stuff a mattress. The other was a long faced young feller +with an ostrich neck and a voice that sounded like a squeaky door.</p> + +<p>"Go outside!" says he, wavin' his hands and puttin' on a weary look. +"Mr. Pepper can't see any of you until he has finished with the mail. +Now run along."</p> + +<p>"I can't," says I; "my feet won't let me. Is that the Pepper box in +there?"</p> + +<p>The door was open a foot or two; so I steps up to take a peek at the +main squeeze. And say, the minute I sees him I knew he'd do. He wa'n't +one of these dried up whiskered freaks, nor he wa'n't any human hog, +with no neck and three chins. He was the kind of a gent you see comin' +out of them swell cafés, and he looked like a winner, Mr. Belmont Pepper +did. His breakfast seemed to be settin' as well as his coat collar, and +you could tell with one eye<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">4</a></span> that he wouldn't come snoopin' around early +in the day, nor hang around the shop after five. Pepper has his heels up +on the rolltop, burnin' a real Havana. That's the kind of a boss I +likes. I lays out to connect, too.</p> + +<p>"Say," says I to the long faced duck, "you hold your breath a minute and +I'll be back!"</p> + +<p>Then I steps outside, yanks the "Boy Wanted" sign off the nail, and says +to the crowd good and brisk, just as though I come direct from +headquarters:</p> + +<p>"It's all over, kids, and unless you're waitin' to have a group picture +taken you'd better hit the elevator."</p> + +<p>Wow! There was call for another sudden move just then. I was lookin' for +that, though, and by the time the first two of 'em struck the door I was +on the other side with the key turned. Riot? Well say, you'd thought I'd +pinched the only job in New York! They kicked on the door and yelled +through the transom and got themselves all worked up.</p> + +<p>The lady key pounder grabs hold of both sides of her table and almost +swallows her tuttifrutti, the ostrich necked chap turns pea green, and +Mr. Pepper swings his door open and sings out, real cheerful:</p> + +<p>"Mr. Sweetwater, can't you get yourself mobbed without being so noisy +about it? What's up, anyway?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">5</a></span></p> + +<p>But Sweetwater wasn't a lightnin' calculator. He stands there with his +mouth open, gawpin' at me, and tryin' to figure out what's broke loose; +so I pushes to the front and helps him out.</p> + +<p>"There's a bunch of also rans out there, Mr. Pepper," says I, "that +don't know when to fade. They're just grouchy because I've swiped the +job."</p> + +<p>I was lookin' for him to sit up at that; but he don't. "What makes you +think that you've got it!" says he.</p> + +<p>"'Cause I'm in and they're out," says I. "Anyway, they're a lot of +dopes, and a man like you wants a live one around. That's me. Where do I +begin?" And I chucks the sign into a waste basket and hangs my cap on a +hook.</p> + +<p>Now, that ain't any system you can follow reg'lar. I don't often do it +that way, 'cause I ain't any fonder of bein' thrown through a door than +the next one. But this was a long shot and I was willin' to run the +risk. That fat headed starter knew he was steerin' me up against a mob; +so I was just achin' to squeeze the lemon in his eye by makin' good.</p> + +<p>For awhile, though, I couldn't tell whether I was up in a balloon or let +in on the ground floor. Mr. Pepper was givin' me the search warrant +look-over, and I see he's one of these gents that you can't jar easy. I +hadn't rushed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">6</a></span> him off his feet by my through the center play. There was +still plenty of chance of my gettin' the low tackle.</p> + +<p>"If I might ask," says he, smooth as a silk lid, "what is your name?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, w'at's the use?" says I, duckin' my head. "Look at that hair! You +might's well begin callin' me Torchy; you'd come to it."</p> + +<p>He didn't grin nor nothin'; but only I see his eyes wrinkle a little at +the corners. "Very well, Torchy," says he. "I suppose you have your +references?"</p> + +<p>"Nah, I ain't," says I. "But if you're stuck on such things I can get +'em. There's a feller down on Ann-st. that'll write beauts for a quarter +a throw."</p> + +<p>"So?" says he. "Then we'll pass that point. Why did you leave your last +place?"</p> + +<p>"By request," says I. "The stiff gives me the fire. He said I was too +fresh."</p> + +<p>"He was mistaken, I suppose," says Mr. Pepper. "You're not fresh, are +you?"</p> + +<p>"Well say, I ain't no last year's limed egg," says I. "If you're lookin' +for somethin' that's been in the brine all winter, you'd better put the +hook in again."</p> + +<p>He rubs his chin at that. "Do you like hard work?" says he.</p> + +<p>"Think I'd be chasin' up an office boy snap, if I did?" says I.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">7</a></span></p> + +<p>He takes a minute or so to let that soak in, knockin' his cigar ashes +off on the rug in that careless way a man that ain't married does, and +then he springs another.</p> + +<p>"I presume that if you were left alone in the office occasionally," says +he, "you could learn to run the business?"</p> + +<p>"Nix, not!" says I. "When I plays myself for a confidential manager I +wants to pull down more than four per. Givin' book agents the quick back +up and runnin' errands is my strong points. For tips on the market and +such as that I charges overtime."</p> + +<p>Course, I'd figured it was all off by then, seein' as how I hadn't rung +the bell at any crack. That's why I was so free with the hot air. Mr. +Pepper, he squints at me good and hard, and then pushes the call button.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Sweetwater," says he, "this young man's name is Torchy. I've +persuaded him to assist us in running the affairs of the Glory Be Mining +Company. Put him on the payroll at five a week, and then induce that +mass meeting in the corridor to adjourn."</p> + +<p>"Say," says I, "does that mean I'm picked?"</p> + +<p>"You're the chosen one," says he.</p> + +<p>"Gee!" says I. "You had me guessin', though! But you ain't drawn any +blank. I'll shinny on your side, Mr. Pepper, as long's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">8</a></span> you'll let +me—and that's no gust of wind, either."</p> + +<p>And say, inside of three days I'd got the minin' business down to a +science. Course it was a cinch. All I has to do is fold bunches of +circulars, stick stamps on the envelopes, and lug 'em up to the general +P. O. once a day. That, and chasin' out after a dollar's worth of cigars +now and then for Mr. Pepper, and keepin' Sweetie jollied along, didn't +make me round shouldered.</p> + +<p>Sweetie was cut out for the undertakin' business, by rights. He took +things hard, he did. Every tick of the clock was a solemn moment for +him, and me gettin' a stamp on crooked was a case that called for a +heart to heart talk. He used to show me the books he was keepin', and +the writin' was as reg'lar as if it'd been done on a job press.</p> + +<p>"You're a wonder, you are, Sweetie," says I; "but some day your hand is +going to joggle, and there'll be a blot on them pages, and then you'll +die of heart disease."</p> + +<p>Miss Allen, the typewriter fairy, was a good deal of a frost. She was +one of the kind that would blow her lunch money on havin' her hair done +like some actress, and worry through the week on an apple and two pieces +of fudge at noon. I never had much use for her. She called me just Boy, +as though I wa'n't hardly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">9</a></span> human at all. She'd sit and pat that hair of +hers by the hour, feelin' to see if all the diff'rent waves and bunches +was still there. It was a work of art, all right; but it didn't leave +her time to think of much else. I used to get her wild by askin' how the +six other sisters was comin' on these days.</p> + +<p>We didn't have any great rush of customers in the office. About twice a +day some one would stray in; but gen'rally they was lookin' for other +parties, and we didn't take in money enough over the counter to pay the +towel bill. It had me worried some, until I tumbles that the Glory Be +was a mail order snap.</p> + +<p>All them circulars we sent out told about the mine. And say, after I'd +read one of 'em I didn't see how it was we didn't have a crowd throwin' +money at us. It was good readin', too, almost as excitin' as a nickel +lib'ry. I'd never been right next to a gold mine before, and it got me +bug eyed just thinkin' about it.</p> + +<p>Why, this mine of ours was one that the Injuns had kept hid for years +and years, killin' off every white man that stuck his nose into the same +county. But after awhile a feller by the name of Dakota Dan turned +Injun, got himself adopted by the tribe, and monkeyed around until he +found the mine. It near blinded him the first squint he got of them big +chunks of gold. The Injuns caught him at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">10</a></span> it and finished the business +with hot irons. Then they roasted him over a fire some and turned him +loose to enjoy himself. He was tougher'n a motorman, though. He didn't +die for years after that; but he never said nothin' about the gold mine +until he was nearly all in. Then he told his oldest boy the tale and +gave him a map of the place, makin' him swear he'd never go near it. The +boy stuck to it, too. He grew up and kept a grocery store, and it wa'n't +until after he'd died of lockjaw from runnin' a rusty nail in his hand +and the widow had sold out the store to a Swede that the map showed up. +The Swede swapped the map to a soap drummer for half a dozen cakes of +scented shaving sticks, and the drummer goes explorin'.</p> + +<p>He had a soap drummer's luck. He didn't find any Injuns left. Most of +'em had died off and the rest had joined Wild West shows. The gold mine +was there, though, with chunks of solid gold lyin' around as big as +peach baskets. Mr. Drummer looks until his eyes ache, and then he hikes +himself back East to get up a comp'ny to work the mine. He'd just made +plans to build a solid gold mansion on Fifth-ave. and hire John D. +Rockefeller for a butler, when he strays into one of these Gospel +missions and gets religion so hard that he can't shake it. Then he sees +how selfish it would be to keep all that gold for himself.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">11</a></span> "But how'll +I divvy it?" says he. "And who with?"</p> + +<p>Then he decides that he'll divide with ministers, because they'll use it +best. So he gets up this Glory Be Mining Company, and hires Mr. Pepper +to sell the stock at twenty-five cents a share to all the preachers in +the country.</p> + +<p>Blamed if it wa'n't straight goods! I looked on the letters we sent out, +and every last one of 'em was to ministers. Talk about your easy money! +This was like pickin' it off the bushes. Mr. Pepper shows 'em how they +can put in fifty or a hundred dollars and in three or four years be +pullin' out their thousands in dividends.</p> + +<p>You'd thought they'd came a runnin' at a chance like that, wouldn't you? +There we was givin' 'em a private hunch on a proposition that was all +velvet. But say, only about one in ten ever hands us a comeback. It was +enough to make a man turn the hose on his grandmother.</p> + +<p>Course, a few of 'em did loosen up and send on real money. I used to +stand around and pipe off the boss while he shucked the mail, and I +could tell whether it was fat or lean by the time it took him to eat +lunch. The days when I was sent out to cash five or six money orders, +and soak away a bunch of checks, he'd call a cab at twelve-thirty and +wouldn't come back until near four; but when there wa'n't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">12</a></span> much doin' +he'd send out for a tray and put in the afternoon dictatin' names and +addresses to Miss Allen.</p> + +<p>Then there come a slack spell that lasted for a couple of weeks, and we +didn't get hardly any mail at all, except from some crank out in +Illinois that had splurged on a whole ten dollars' worth of shares, and +wrote in about every other day wantin' to know when the dividends was +goin' to begin comin' his way. I heard Miss Allen talkin' it over with +Sweetie.</p> + +<p>It was along about then that this duck from the post-office buildin' +showed up. He comes gumshoein' around one noon hour, while I was all by +my lonesome, and he asks a whole lot of questions that I'd forgot the +answer to. I was tellin' the boss about him that night around closin' up +time.</p> + +<p>"I sized him up for one of them cheap skates from the Marshal's office," +says I. "I didn't know what his game was and I wa'n't goin' to give up +all I knew to him; so I tells him to call around to-morrow and you'll +load him up with all the information his nut can hold. Was that right?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Pepper seems to be mighty int'rested for awhile; but then he grins, +pats me on the shoulder, and says: "That was just right, Torchy, exactly +right. I couldn't have done it better myself."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">13</a></span></p> + +<p>But half an hour later, after Miss Allen has stuck her gum on the +paperweight and skipped, and Sweetwater has slid out too, and just as I +was gettin' ready to call it a day, Mr. Pepper calls me in on the rug.</p> + +<p>"Torchy," says he, "during the brief period that we have been associated +in business I have found your services very valuable and your society +very cheering. In other words, Torchy, you're all right."</p> + +<p>"There's a pair of us, then," says I. "You're as good as they make them, +Mr. Pepper."</p> + +<p>"Thanks, Torchy," says he, "thanks." Then he looks out of the window for +a minute before he asks how I'd like a two-weeks' vacation with pay.</p> + +<p>"Well," says I, "seein' as how Coney's froze up, and Palm Beach don't +agree with my health, I'd just as soon put them two weeks in storage +until July."</p> + +<p>"I see," says he; "but the fact is, Torchy, I've had a sudden call to go +West."</p> + +<p>"Out to the Glory Be mine?" says I.</p> + +<p>"You've guessed it," says he. "And I am taking this opportunity for +releasing Sweetwater and Miss Allen."</p> + +<p>"They ain't much use, anyway," says I. "But you wouldn't shut up the +shop for fair, would you? Don't you want some one on hand<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">14</a></span> to answer +fool questions, or steer cranks off like that post-office guy that's +comin' to-morrow? Unless you think I'd hook the rolltop or pinch the +letterpress, you'd better leave me sittin' on the lid."</p> + +<p>Well, sir, he seemed to take to that notion, and the next thing I knows +I'm tellin him about my scheme of wantin' to save up enough dough to pay +for a little bunch of them Glory Be stocks.</p> + +<p>"It's a shame to waste all that good money on people that don't know a +cinch when it's passed out to 'em," says I, "and I've been thinkin' that +if I hung to the business long enough maybe I'd have a show to buy in."</p> + +<p>Say, you couldn't guess what Mr. Pepper up and does then. He opens the +safe, counts out a hundred shares of Glory Be common, and fills out the +transfer to me right on the spot.</p> + +<p>"Now, Torchy," says he, "it will cost you five weeks' salary to pay for +these; but if I raise you a dollar a week and take it out a little at a +time you'll never miss it. Anyway, you're a shareholder from now on."</p> + +<p>Did you ever get rich all of a sudden, like that! You feel it first up +and down the small of your back, and then it goes to your knees. I +couldn't say a blamed word that was sensible. I don't know just what I +did say, and I never come to until after Mr. Pepper'd finished up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">15</a></span> and +gone, leavin' me with two-weeks' pay in my pocket, and a big envelope +full of them Glory Be shares, all printed in gold and purple ink, with a +picture of Dakota Dan in the middle.</p> + +<p>I couldn't eat a bite of supper that night, and I puts in the evenin' +readin' over them pamphlets we'd been sendin' out until I knew every +word of it by heart. I'll bet I got up and hid them stocks in a dozen +diff'rent places before mornin', and an hour before bankin' time I was +sittin' on the steps of the Treasury Trust concern, waitin' to hire one +of them steel pigeon-holes down in the vaults. After I'd got the +envelope stowed away and tied the key around my neck with a string, I +goes back to the office. Sweetie and Miss Allen was there, with their +hammers goin'. They'd found their blue tickets and their week's pay and +was just clearin' out.</p> + +<p>"I'd been planning to make a change for the last two weeks," says Miss +Allen. "I was looking for something like this."</p> + +<p>"Me too," says Sweetie. "It's rough on Torchy, though."</p> + +<p>"Say, don't you waste any sympathy on me," says I, "and don't let off +any more knocks at Mr. Pepper. I won't stand for it!"</p> + +<p>With that they snickers and does a slow exit. That leaves me runnin' the +gold minin' business<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">16</a></span> single handed; but me bein' one of the firm, as +you might say, it was all right. I'd always had a notion that I'd be a +plute some day; but honest, I wa'n't expectin' it so sudden. I was just +tryin' to get used to it, when the door opens and in drifts that guy +from the Marshal's office.</p> + +<p>"Where's Mr. Belmont Pepper?" says he.</p> + +<p>"Well," says I, "the last time I saw him he was headed west."</p> + +<p>"Skipped out!" says the gent, doin' the foiled villyun stunt with his +face.</p> + +<p>"Skipped nothin'," says I. "Mr. Pepper's gone out to look after the +mine."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he's gone to the mine, has he?" says the duck. "See here, kid, I'm +a United States Deputy Marshal. Don't you try to tell me any fairy +stories, or you'll pull down trouble. We want your Mr. Pepper, and we +want him bad! He's a crook."</p> + +<p>Well say, it was a hot argument we had. He tries to tell me that this +minin' business is all a bunko game, and that there's a paper out for +the boss. Then he camps down in the private office and says he'll wait +until Mr. Pepper shows up. He makes a stab at it, too, and a nice long +wait he has. I stuck it out for two weeks with him, tryin' to beat it +into his head that the Glory Be mine was a real gilt edged proposition. +I'd have been there yet, only they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">17</a></span> comes and lugs off all the desks and +things and makes me give up the keys.</p> + +<p>Say, it was a tough deal, all right. It was some jay that stirred up all +the muss, howlin' for his coin that he thought he'd lost. But look at +the hole I'm in, after bein' so brash to Mr. Pepper about stayin' on the +lid, and him lettin' me write my own valuation ticket! How do I square +it with him when he comes back and finds I've stood around and seen him +closed out?</p> + +<p>Old Velvet Foot, the deputy, says if the boss comes back at all he'll be +wearin' a diff'rent face and flaggin' under another name. But I know +better. He's as square as a pavin' block. If he wa'n't, why was he +distributin' Glory Be stocks among fool outsiders, instead of keepin' it +in the fam'ly?</p> + +<p>"Ah, brush your belfry!" says I. "Your mind needs chloride of lime on +it."</p> + +<p>But say, shareholder or not, I've got to plug the market for somethin' +that'll pass with the landlady. I've been livin' on crullers and coffee +for two days now, and that starter guy says if I don't quit hangin' +around the arcade he'll have me pinched. I've wrote out a note to leave +for Mr. Pepper, and I guess it's up to me to frisk another job.</p> + +<p>You don't know where they want a near-plute as temp'rary office boy, do +you?</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">18</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2><h3>A JOLT FOR PIDDIE</h3> +</div> + +<p>It's a case of "comin' up, up" with me. Sure as ever! Ain't I got stock +in a gold mine? And now I'm in with the Corrugated Trust. Why, say, two +moves more and I'll be first vice-president. There's only his door, and +the general manager's, and then me.</p> + +<p>I'm behind the brass rail, next to the spring water. When you have the +front to push through the plate glass, you see me first. If I likes your +looks, and your card reads right, maybe I gives you a peek at Mr. +Piddie. Anyone that gets past Piddie's a bird. He's the Inside Brother, +Keeper of the Seal, Watch on the Rhine, and a lot more. He draws down +salary for bein' confidential secretary to the G. M.; but Con. Sec. +don't half cover it. He keeps the run of everything, from what the last +quarterly dividend was down to how many tubs of pins is used by the +office force every month.</p> + +<p>I'd never made good with Piddie in a month of Yom Kippurs if it hadn't +been for Old Heavyweight, the main squeeze. Piddie had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">19</a></span> ten of us lined +up for the elimination test, and was puttin' us through the catechism +and the civil service, when in pads Mr. Ellins—you know, Hickory +Ellins. Ever see our V. P.? Say, he uses up cloth enough in his vest to +make me a whole suit.</p> + +<p>He's a ripe old sport, with a complexion like an Easter egg, and a pair +o' blinks that'd look a hole through a chilled steel vault. He runs us +over without losin' step, sticks out a finger as he goes by, and says +over his shoulder, "Piddie, take that one!"</p> + +<p>Me, I was in range. Piddie made a bluff at goin' on with the third +degree business; but the other entries begins to edge for the door. I +was the one best bet; so what was the use? See what it is to have a +thirty-two candle power thatch? He couldn't have missed me, less'n he'd +been color blind. There's worse things can happen to you than red hair, +all right.</p> + +<p>Piddie was sore on me from the start, though. He'd made up his mind to +tag a nice little mommer's boy, with a tow colored top and a girly +voice. Them's the kind that forgets to bring back change and always has +stamps to sell. Oh, I sized up Piddie for a two by four right at the get +away; but I've been keepin' him jollied along just for the fun of it.</p> + +<p>"J. Hemmingway Piddie" is the way he has it printed. Think of wastin' +all them letters,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">20</a></span> when just plain Piddie is as good as seein' a strip +of pingpong pictures of him! He's mostly up and down, Piddie is, like +he'd been pulled out of a bundle of laths, and he's got one of these +inquisitive noses that's sharp enough to file bills on.</p> + +<p>Refined conversation is Piddie's strong hold. It bubbles out of him like +steam out of the oatmeal kettle. Sounds that way, too. You know these +mush eaters, with their, "Ah, I'm su-ah, quite su-ah, doncher know"? +He's got that kind of lingo down to an art. I'll bet he could talk it in +his sleep. I've heard 'em before; but I never looked to hold a sit. +under one.</p> + +<p>It's a privilege, though, bein' so close to Piddie. If I don't forget +all the things he tells me, and follows 'em, I'll be made over new in a +month more. He begins with my name. Torchy don't fit right with him. It +might do for some places he didn't mention, but not for the home offices +of the Corrugated Trust.</p> + +<p>"Maybe you'd like Reginald better!" says I.</p> + +<p>"But—er—aw—is that your baptismal name, my boy?" says he.</p> + +<p>"Nix," says I. "I'm no Baptist. And, anyway, I couldn't give up my real +name, cause I'm travelin' incog., and me noble relatives would be +shocked if they knew I was really workin'. You can call me Torchy, or +Reginald,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">21</a></span> whichever you think of first, and if you be careful to say it +real nice maybe I'll come."</p> + +<p>Every time I throws a jolt like that into J. Hemmingway, he looks kind +of stunned and goes off to chew it over. But he gets even all right. +Sometimes he'll take a whole forenoon to dig up somethin' he thinks is +goin' to give me the double cross.</p> + +<p>Most of his spare time, though, he puts in tellin' me about how I'm to +behave when Mr. Robert comes back. For the first few days I had an idea +Mr. Robert was the pulley that carried the big belt, and that when he +stopped there was a general shut down. I got nervous watchin' for him. +Then I rounds up the fact that he's Bob Ellins, who cuts more ice in the +society columns than he does in the Wall Street notes.</p> + +<p>Piddie has him down for a little tin god, all right, and that wa'n't +such a fool move of Piddie's, either. Some day Hickory Ellins will have +to quit and take the hot baths regular, and then Mr. Robert will get +acquainted with an eight o'clock breakfast. See where Piddie comes in? +He's takin' out insurance on his job. He needs it bad enough. If I ever +get to think as much of a job as Piddie does of his, I'll have some one +nail me to the office chair.</p> + +<p>Rule No. 1 on my card was never to let anyone through the brass gate +unless they belonged<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">22</a></span> inside or had a special permit. Piddie wants to +know if I've ever had any experience with that kind of work.</p> + +<p>"Say, where do you think I've been!" says I. "Why, I did that trick for +six months, shuntin' dopes away from the Sunday editor's door, and there +was times when nothin' but a club would keep some of 'em out. Back to +the bridge, Piddie! When I'm on the gate it's just as good as though +you'd set the time lock."</p> + +<p>Well, I'd been there over one payday and halfway to the next, when one +mornin' about ten-thirty the door comes open with a bang, and in steps a +husky young gent, swingin' one of these dinky, leather-covered canes, +and lookin' like money from the mint. He didn't make any play to draw a +card, same's they generally does; but steers straight for the brass +gate, full tilt. I never says a word; but just as he reaches over to +spring the catch and break in, I shoves my foot out and blocks it at the +bottom, bringin' him up all standin'.</p> + +<p>"Say, this ain't no ferryhouse," says I.</p> + +<p>"Hello!" says he. "A new one, eh?"</p> + +<p>"I ain't any Fourth-ave. antique," says I; "but I'm over seven. Was you +wantin' to see anyone special?"</p> + +<p>He seems to think that's a joke. "Why," says he, "I am Mr. Ellins."</p> + +<p>"G'wan!" says I. "You ain't half of him."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">23</a></span></p> + +<p>That reaches his funnybone, too. "You're perfectly right, young man," +says he; "but I happen to be his son. Now are you satisfied?"</p> + +<p>"Nope," says I. "That bluff don't go either. If you was Mr. Robert I'd +have been struck by lightnin' long 'fore this. You've got one more +guess."</p> + +<p>Just then I hears a gurgle, like some one's bein' choked with a chicken +bone, and I squints around behind. There was Piddie, lookin' like the +buildin' was fallin' down and tryin' to uncork some remarks.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Piddie!" says the gent. "Perhaps you will introduce me to your new +sentry and give me the password."</p> + +<p>Well, Piddie did. He almost got on his hands and knees doin' it. And +say, blamed if the duck wa'n't Mr. Robert, after all!</p> + +<p>"Gee!" says I, "that was a bad break."</p> + +<p>That didn't soothe Piddie, though. He used up the best part of an hour +tryin' to tell me what an awful thing I'd gone and done.</p> + +<p>"This ends you, young man!" he says. "You're as good as discharged this +very moment."</p> + +<p>"Is that all?" says I. "Why, by the way you've been takin' on I figured +on nothin' less than sudden death. But if it's only bein' fired, don't +you worry. I've had that happen to me so often that I get uneasy without +it. If I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">24</a></span> should wear a stripe for every time the can's been tied to me, +my sleeves would look like a couple of barber's poles. Cheer up, Piddie! +Maybe they'll let you pick out somethin' that suits you better next +time."</p> + +<p>He couldn't get over it, though. Along about lunch time he comes out to +me, as solemn as though he's servin' a warrant for homicide, and says +that Mr. Robert will attend to my case now.</p> + +<p>"Piddie," says I, givin' him the partin' grip, "you've been a true +friend of mine. When you hear me hit the asphalt, send out for a +chocolate ice cream soda and drown your sorrow."</p> + +<p>Then I turns down a page in "Old Sleuth's Revenge" and goes to the +slaughter.</p> + +<p>Mr. Robert has just talked about three cylinders full of answers to the +letters that's piled up while he's been gone, and as the girl goes out +with the records he whirls around in the mahogany easy-chair and takes a +good long look at me.</p> + +<p>"If it comes as hard as all that," says I, "I'll write out my +resignation."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Piddie's been talking to you, I suppose?" says he.</p> + +<p>"He's done everything but say mass over me," says I.</p> + +<p>"Piddie is a good deal of an——" then he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">25</a></span> pulls up. "Where the deuce +did he find you?"</p> + +<p>"It wasn't him found me," says I; "it was a case of me findin' him; but +if it hadn't been for your old man's buttin' in, that's all the good it +would have done me."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" says he. "That explains the mystery. By the way, son, what do they +call you?"</p> + +<p>"Guess," says I, and runs me fingers through it. "Just Torchy, and it +suits me as well as Percival or Montgomery."</p> + +<p>"Torchy is certainly descriptive," says he. "How long have you been +doing office work?"</p> + +<p>"Ever since I could lift a waste basket," says I.</p> + +<p>"Are you ambitious?" says he.</p> + +<p>"Sure!" says I. "I'm waitin' for some bank president to adopt me."</p> + +<p>"You came in here expecting to be discharged, I presume?" says he.</p> + +<p>"What, me?" says I. "Nah! I thought you was goin' to ask me over to the +Caffy Martang for lunch."</p> + +<p>For a minute or so after that he looks me straight in the eye, and I +gives him the same. And say, for the kind, he ain't so worse. Course, I +wouldn't swap him for Mr. Belmont Pepper, who's the only boss I ever had +that I calls the real thing; but Mr. Robert would get a ratin' +anywhere.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">26</a></span></p> + +<p>"Torchy," says he after a bit, "I'm inclined to think that you'll do. +Have a chair."</p> + +<p>"Don't I get the blue ticket, then?" says I.</p> + +<p>"No," says he, "not until you do something worse than obey orders. +Besides you're the cheekiest youth that has ever graced the offices of +the Corrugated Trust, and once in awhile we have use for just such a +quality. For instance, I am tempted to send you on a very important +errand of my own. Wait a moment while I think it over."</p> + +<p>"Time out!" says I.</p> + +<p>Well say, I didn't know what was comin', he took so long makin' up his +mind. But Mr. Robert ain't one of the kind to go off half cocked. He's +got somethin' on his shoulders besides tailor's paddin', and when he +sets the wheels to movin' you can gamble that he's gettin' somewhere. +After awhile he slaps his knee and says:</p> + +<p>"No, there isn't another person around the place who would know how to +go about it. Torchy, I'm going to try you out!"</p> + +<p>It wasn't anything like I'd ever been up against before. He hands me an +express receipt and says he wants me to go over to Jersey City and get +what that calls for without landin' in jail.</p> + +<p>"You'll see a bundle done up in burlap somewhere around the express +office," says he,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">27</a></span> "a big bundle. It looks like a side of veal; but it +isn't. It's a deer, one that I shot four days ago up north. Torchy, did +you know that it was illegal to shoot deer during certain months of the +year?"</p> + +<p>"You can be pinched for shootin' craps any time," says I.</p> + +<p>"Really?" says he.</p> + +<p>Then he goes on with his tale, givin' me all the partic'lars, so I +wouldn't make any batty moves. And say, they can think up some queer +stunts, hangin' around the club of an afternoon and lookin' out at +Fifth-ave. through the small end of a glass. This was one of them real +clubby dreams. It started by Mr. Robert countin' himself in on a debate +that he didn't know the beginning of.</p> + +<p>"When they asked me if I could do it, I said, 'Of course I can,'" says +he, "and then I asked what it was."</p> + +<p>The bunch had been gassin' about an old gun hangin' over the fireplace. +It was one of these old-timers, like they tell about Daniel Boone's +havin', in the Nickel Libr'ies, the kind you load with a stove poker. +Flintlocks—that's it! They was wonderin' if there was anyone left that +could take a relic like that out in the woods and hit anything besides +the atmosphere. And the first thing Mr. Robert knows he has been joshed +into bettin' a hatful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">28</a></span> of yellowbacks that he can take old Injun killer +out and bring back enough deer meat to feed the crowd—and him knowin' +no more about that sort of act than a one-legged man does about skatin'! +They gives him two weeks to do it in.</p> + +<p>That wa'n't the worst of it, though, accordin' to him. They passes the +word around until everyone that knows him is on the broad grin. The joke +is handed across billiard tables between shots, and is circulated around +the boxes at the opera. It's the best ever; for Mr. Robert has never +hunted anything livelier than a Welsh rabbit, after the show.</p> + +<p>He's a boy that likes to make good, though. He never makes a brag; but +he boxes up that old shootin' iron and drops out of sight. 'Way up in +the woods somewhere he digs up an old b'gosh artist that was brought up +with one of them guns in his hand, and he takes a private course. After +he's used up a keg of powder shootin' at tin cans they start out to find +where the deers roost. They find 'em, too. Mr. Robert is so rattled that +he misses the one he aims at; but he bores a tunnel through another in +the next lot.</p> + +<p>Course, he thinks he's got a cinch then. He hustles to the nearest flag +station and spends eight dollars sendin' telegrams to the bunch, +invitin' 'em to a venison feed at the club. Then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">29</a></span> he has his game sewed +up neat in meal bags and expressed to John Doe, Jersey City. See how +cute he was? He'd heard about the game laws by that time; so he lays his +plans to duck any trouble. But he hadn't counted on that gang tippin' +off the Jersey game wardens, nor on their trailin' the baggage and +express bundles with huntin' dogs.</p> + +<p>"The dogs had smelled it out just as I came in to claim it," says he; +"so all I could do was to keep my mouth closed, standing around and +looking foolish until I got tired and came away. And that, Torchy, is +the situation up to the present moment. My venison is under guard over +in Jersey City, and if it isn't delivered at the club by six o'clock +to-night I shall not only lose my bet, but have my life made miserable +from cheap jokes for months to come. It occurred to me that if your wits +were as bright as the hair that covers them, you might be able to help +me out. What do you think?"</p> + +<p>"Chee!" says I, scratchin' me bonfire, "I guess I'm down the coal chute. +I've rescued locked-in typewriter girls from fire escapes, and lied the +boss out of a family row; but I never tried my hand at kidnappin' enough +meat for a dinner party. How about buyin' off the game sleuth?"</p> + +<p>"He has been bought by the other side," says<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">30</a></span> Mr. Robert. "He wouldn't +dare to sell them out."</p> + +<p>Well, I thunk some more thinks just as punky as that, and then we +settles it that I'm to hike over and take a squint, anyway. I gets him +to give me a line on what kind of a looker the warden was, and he throws +me a couple of tens for campaign expenses. I was just stowin' away the +green stuff as I goes through the outside office, and Piddie's eyebrows +go up.</p> + +<p>"They're goin' to let me finish out the week," says I. "Ain't they the +gentle things?"</p> + +<p>Then I skips out for the 23d-st. boat, leavin' Piddie with his mouth +open, and Mr. Robert wrapped up with the idea that, some way or other, +I'm goin' to talk that game cop into a dope dream and rescue the roast.</p> + +<p>But, say, I didn't need to look twice at that snoozer to see that no +line of hot air I had in stock would soften him up. He had an undershot +jaw, a pair of eyes that saw both sides of the street at once, and a +head like a choppin' block. He was sittin' right alongside of that +burlap bundle, waitin' to spring his tin badge on some one.</p> + +<p>"Do they send such things as that through without cratin'?" says I to a +guy behind the chicken wire, jerkin' me thumb at Mr. Sleuth. "What's the +label on him?"</p> + +<p>"That's Mr. Hinkey Tolliver, special officer,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">31</a></span> says he. "Better look +out or he'll break a hand grenade on that still alarm of yours."</p> + +<p>"Ah, back to the blotter!" says I. "Who gave you any license to make +funny cracks on my Mrs. Leslie Carter disguise?"</p> + +<p>We swapped a few more like that, while I sizes up Hinkey, tryin' to map +out a way to brace him. But it was a losin' proposition. He has one of +them eyes nailed to what I wanted to take away and the other trained on +the door, and you could tell by the way he held his jaw that nothin' +short of an earthquake would jar him loose.</p> + +<p>It was too much for me. If it hadn't been that Mr. Robert had put it up +to me so flat, I'd have quit then. But I couldn't lay down with just a +look; so I takes a turn around into the passenger waitin' room, battin' +my head for a new line.</p> + +<p>I guess it was kind of second sight that steers me over into the corner +where there is an A. D. T. branch. I wa'n't lookin' for anyone I knew, +seein' it's been so long since I wore the cap; but who should I pipe +off, sittin' on the call bench, but Hunch Leary! And, say, between the +time I'd give him the nod to come out, and his askin' how it was I'd +shook the red stripe, I'd framed up the whole scheme. First I goes over +to the girl under the blue bell and rings up Mr. Robert.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">32</a></span></p> + +<p>"Hello," says I, "this is Torchy."</p> + +<p>"Good!" says he. "Have you got it?"</p> + +<p>"Got nothin'!" says I. "You must think I'm a writ of habeas corpus. I +want to know who was the gent that most likely tipped off your warden +friend."</p> + +<p>When I'd got that I asks the time of the next uptown boat, and makes a +deal with one of them ferry hawks to back his chariot up near the +express office door and be ready to make a swift move for the gangplank.</p> + +<p>Then me and Hunchy fakes up this little billy ducks to Mr. Hinkey +Tolliver, tellin' him to chase to the nearest 'phone and call up the +gent that Mr. Robert had put me wise to.</p> + +<p>It was worse'n playin' a three-ball combination for the side pocket, and +I holds my breath while Hunch pokes his book at him and waits to see if +there's any answer. Tolliver, he reads it over two or three times, first +with one eye and then the other. One minute I thought he was goin', and +the next he settles back like he'd made up his mind to balk. He squints +at the burlap package, and then at the message, and all of a sudden he +makes a break for the 'phone.</p> + +<p>He hadn't begun movin' before I was up to the window with my receipt, +callin' for 'em to get a hustle on, as Mr. Doe had run out of veal and +had to have it in a hurry. Ever try<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">33</a></span> to poke up one of them box +jugglers? They took their time about it—and me lookin' for trouble +every tick of the clock! But I got an O. K. on it after awhile, and for +a quarter I hired a wagon helper to drag the bundle out and chuck it +into the hansom. Then I climbs in and we made the boat just as the bell +rang. She was pullin' out of the slip when Tolliver rushes out about as +calm as a bulldog chasin' a tramp.</p> + +<p>"Say," says the driver, climbin' down to take a look at the baggage, +"who you got sewed in the sack!"</p> + +<p>"Get on your perch!" says I. "Ain't you makin' extra money on this? And +when you fetch up at the club, do it like you was used to stoppin' at +such places."</p> + +<p>It was a great ride that me and the deer meat had across town and up +Fifth-ave. I'd stopped once to put Mr. Robert next; so he was waitin' +for me out in front of the club, wearin' a grin that was better'n a +breakfast food ad.</p> + +<p>But that wa'n't anything to the look on Piddie when Mr. Robert shows up +next mornin' and pats me on the back like I was one of his old Hasty +Puddin' chums.</p> + +<p>"Piddie," says I, "look what it is to be born handsome and lucky, all in +one throw!"</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">34</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2><h3>MEETING UP WITH THE GREAT SKID</h3> +</div> + +<p>Next time you nabs me writin' a form sheet on any unknown, you can hang +out the waste paper sign and send me to the scows. Look at the mess I +makes of this here Mallory business! Why, first off I has him billed for +a Percy boy that had strayed into the general office from the drygoods +district. He had a filin' job in the bond room, and when he drew his +envelope on Saturdays it must have set the Corrugated Trust back for as +much as twelve D.</p> + +<p>Course, I didn't pay no attention to him, until one noon I finds him in +the next chair at the dairy lunch. He's got his mug of half white and +half black, and his two corned beef splits, with plenty of mustard, and +he's just squarin' off for a foodfest, when I squats down with two hunks +of pie and all the cheese I could get at one grab.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Algy!" says I. "Where's the charlotte russe and the cup of tea?"</p> + +<p>"Beg pardon," says he; "were you speaking to me?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">35</a></span></p> + +<p>"Sure," says I. "You didn't think I was makin' that crack at the +armchair, did you? Maybe we ain't been introduced; but we're on the same +payroll."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," says he, "I remember now. You're the—the——"</p> + +<p>"Go on, say it," says I. "I don't mind if it is red, and I lets anybody +call me Torchy that wants to, even Willies."</p> + +<p>"Well, now, that's nice of you," says he, sidetrackin' a bite to look me +over. Then he grins.</p> + +<p>Say, it was that open face movement that made me suspicious maybe he +wa'n't one of the Algernon kind, after all. But he had most of the +points, from the puff tie to the way he spoke. It wa'n't the hot potato +dialect Piddie uses; but it leaned that way. If he'd been a real Willie +boy, though, he'd gone up in the air, and maybe I'd got slapped on the +wrist. His springin' that grin was a hunch for me to hold the decision.</p> + +<p>"How long you been keepin' Corrugated stocks from goin' below par?" says +I.</p> + +<p>That stuns him for a minute, and then a light breaks. He throws another +grin. "Oh, about a year," he says.</p> + +<p>"Chee!" says I. "And they ain't put you on the board of directors yet?"</p> + +<p>"I've managed to keep off so far," says he.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">36</a></span></p> + +<p>"Get a lift every quarter, though, I suppose?" says I.</p> + +<p>"I'm getting the same salary I began with, if that's what you mean," +says he, tacklin' another sandwich that had got past the meat +inspectors.</p> + +<p>"Yours must be fatter'n most of the Saturday prize packages they hand +out in the general office, or you wouldn't have kept satisfied so long," +says I.</p> + +<p>He thinks that over for awhile, like it was a new proposition, and then +he says, quiet and easy, "I'm not at all sure, you see, that I am +satisfied."</p> + +<p>"Why not chuck it then and make another grab?" says I. "It's good luck +sometimes to shake the bag."</p> + +<p>He swings his shoulders up at that,—and say, he's got a good pair, all +right!—but he don't say a word.</p> + +<p>"Ain't married the job, have you?" says I. "Or have you lost your +nerve?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it's a lack of nerve, as you suggest," says he, more as if he +was talkin' to himself than anything else.</p> + +<p>"Don't think you could connect with another, eh?" says I.</p> + +<p>He shakes his head. "I'm not exactly proud of the fact," says he; "but I +don't mind telling you in confidence that it required the combined<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">37</a></span> +efforts of my entire family and all my friends to get me into this job."</p> + +<p>"Honest?" says I. "Chee! They picked a pippin for you, didn't they?"</p> + +<p>"It's a star," says he.</p> + +<p>"So's a swift kick from the bottom of a well," says I.</p> + +<p>With that I shakes off the pie crumbs and takes a chase up around the +Flatiron, to watch the kids collectin' cigar coupons and take a look at +the folks from the goshfry-mighty belt shiverin' in the rubberneck +buggies. Say, I never feel quite so much to home in this burg as when I +watch them jays from the one-night stands payin' their coin to see +things that I shut my eyes on every day.</p> + +<p>When I gets back on the gate I tries to figure out this Mallory gent; +but I can't place him. He's no Willie, and he's no dope, I can see that. +With his age and general get-up, though, he ought to be pullin' out +fifty or so a week. What's he been at all this time?</p> + +<p>I was just curious enough to stroll over and take a look at him. He has +his coat off, pluggin' away on the job and doin' the kind of work that I +could learn to play with any time I had a day off. Not that I'm lookin' +for it. Bein' head office boy suits me down to the ground. That's bein' +somethin', even if they do pay you off with a five and a one. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">38</a></span> if +you're a live one you'll get tipped as much more. And you don't have +cold chills up the spine every time the boss lugs down an after +breakfast grouch.</p> + +<p>Course, a duck like Mallory can't get in any such game; so he's got to +dig away at the filin' case and wear his last summer's suit until +Christmas. Diggin' and keepin' quiet seemed to be his only play. Just as +though he'd ever win any medals by the way he stacked papers away in +little pasteboard boxes!</p> + +<p>He wins somethin' else, though. One day the general manager rushes into +Mallory's corner after somethin' he wanted in a hurry, and by the time +he'd found it he'd pied things from one end of the coop to the other. +Mallory was just tryin' to straighten out the mess, when along comes +Piddie, with that pointed nose of his in front. Piddie don't ask any +questions; he throws a fit. Why, he had Mallory on the carpet for forty +minutes by the clock, givin' him the grand roast, and the only time +Mallory opens up to tell him how it was he shuts him off with a, "That +is sufficient, Mr. Mallory! I am here to get results, not excuses. Is +that quite clear?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," says Mallory.</p> + +<p>Say, but he did it well! He looks that peanut headed snipe straight in +the eye all the time after that and takes what's comin' to him without<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">39</a></span> +turnin' a hair. It was "Yes, Mr. Piddie," and "No, Mr. Piddie"; but +nothin' else. And the cooler and politer he was, the wilder Piddie got. +When I hears him tell Mallory that another such break will cost him his +job, I was achin' to throw the letterpress at him and break him in two. +I couldn't hardly wait for Mallory to shut the door before I let loose.</p> + +<p>"Say, Piddie," says I, "if you don't think you'll sleep easy to-night +unless you give some one the bounce, why not fire me? Go on, now; I'll +make out a case for you. Tell 'em I said you howled around like a pup +with a sore ear."</p> + +<p>Piddie turns white and gives me the glassy eye—that's all. I couldn't +tease a fire out of him with a box of matches.</p> + +<p>But that didn't make up for the way he'd roughed Mallory. I was still +sore over it at closin' time; so I lays for Mallory and asks him why he +didn't risk the job and take a crack at Piddie's jaw.</p> + +<p>He just laughs. "Oh," says he, "I couldn't pay him that compliment."</p> + +<p>Was that a joke, yes? Blamed if I could tell. Anyway, it wa'n't sense. +And there's where I had the front to put it straight up to Mallory about +his bein' stranded in a place where he had to take such pin jabbin' as +that.</p> + +<p>"Say," says I, "is it hard luck, or a late start, or what?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">40</a></span></p> + +<p>"I fancy a late start would cover it," says he.</p> + +<p>"Not college?" says I.</p> + +<p>"That's it," says he.</p> + +<p>"Aw, fudge!" says I. "Honest, I didn't take you for one of them rah-rah +boys. Well, if it's that ails you, you're up against it. I don't wonder +you had to be jammed into a job with a flyin' wedge. Chee!"</p> + +<p>I was sorry for him, though. Maybe it was somethin' he couldn't duck. +Some of 'em I've known of couldn't. Oh, I've seen bunches of 'em, just +turned out. Didn't we have more'n a dozen unloaded on us when me and Mr. +Marshall was gettin' out the Sunday edition? And we didn't do a thing to +'em, either!</p> + +<p>But it's a tough deal, after puttin' in all that time dodgin' the fool +killer at some one else's expense, to be chucked into the grub game with +nothin' but a lot of siss-boom yells for experience. I wouldn't have +believed Mallory was that sort. Nice young feller, too. Never slung any +of his Greek at me, nor flashed his college pins. Seemed to kind of like +chinnin' to me at lunch; so I let him. You know how you'll get to +gassin' and tellin' each other the story of your life. I lets out about +Belmont Pepper and the minin' stocks he gave me, and Mallory drops hints +about mother and sister, that was livin' off in Washington or somewhere +with a brother<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">41</a></span> that was in better luck. Mallory, he was doin' the hall +bedroom act, livin' on that twelve per and keepin' out of sight of +everyone he'd ever known until he'd made good. Guess he found it kind of +a lonesome deal.</p> + +<p>Once when I was extra flush I offers to blow him to a fam'ly circle seat +at "The Bandit Queen"; but he says he thinks he'd better not go.</p> + +<p>"Plannin' to have a spin in your new car?" says I.</p> + +<p>"Hardly," says he.</p> + +<p>"Well, how do you put in your off time, anyway?" says I.</p> + +<p>And say, whatcher think? His programme is to light up the gas stove +reg'lar after dinner and fill his head full of truck out of the trade +monthlies and Wall Street columns, postin' himself on Corrugated +business.</p> + +<p>"Gettin' ready to give the old man a few private tips?" says I.</p> + +<p>"Not until he asks for them," says he.</p> + +<p>"Then you've got lots of time," says I. "But it's a punk way of enjoyin' +yourself."</p> + +<p>Maybe it was thinkin' about what a dead slow time he was havin' that +gives me the cue to stir up that lovely mess, or perhaps it was because +the thing was sprung on me so unexpected. It come one day when I was +busy drawin' pictures of Piddie on the blotter. I hears a giggle,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">42</a></span> and +squints up to see a pair that looked as if they'd just broke away from +an afternoon tea. He was a husky youth in a frock coat, with a face like +a full moon and a voice that didn't call for any megaphone. The other +was a her, and she was a bundle of tuttifrutti, the kind you see +floatin' by in sixty horsepowers, all veils and furs and eyes.</p> + +<p>"Hello, sonny," says he, swingin' up to the brass gate, wearin' a +four-inch grin. "Where's the Great Skid?"</p> + +<p>"Give it up," says I. "Have you tried the Zoo?"</p> + +<p>"He-haw!" says he, with the stops all out and a forced draft on. "That's +a good one, that is! But we haven't much time and we're looking for +Skid. Where do you keep him?"</p> + +<p>"Say," says I, "we've got a lot of freaks on tap; but we're just out of +Skids. Anything else do?"</p> + +<p>Then she comes to the front. "Don't be such a silly, Dicky!" says she. +"It isn't likely they call him that here. Tell the young man it's Bert +Mallory we wish to see."</p> + +<p>"You're right, Sis, right as usual," says Dick. "It's Mallory we're +looking for."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" says I. "Mister Mallory?"</p> + +<p>"There now, Dicky!" says she, pokin' him with her elbow and touchin' off +another giggle. "Didn't I tell you?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">43</a></span></p> + +<p>"He-haw!" says Dicky. "Mister Mallory, of course."</p> + +<p>But I didn't feel he-hawy a bit; for it was up to me to tow Mallory's +swell college chum and his sister in where the boy was jugglin' the file +cases. And them lookin' for him to be sittin' in a swing chair with his +name painted big on the door! That was when I dug up my fool thought.</p> + +<p>"Cards!" says I. "I'll see if Mr. Mallory's got through consultin' with +the general manager."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" gurgles Sis. "Doesn't that sound business like, though? I suppose +Skid—er—Mr. Mallory is quite a busy man, isn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Busy," says I. "Say, you don't think he has all of us around here to +play marbles, do you, miss?"</p> + +<p>Sis, she gets mighty int'rested at that. "He's a very important man now, +isn't he?" says she.</p> + +<p>"Chee, yes!" says I. "He's I-double-it around here."</p> + +<p>"Isn't that fine?" says Sis. "But I hope he can see us."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll fix that all right," says I.</p> + +<p>With that I slides through two doors and into Mr. Robert's room. He's +still out to lunch, of course, it bein' only about two o'clock; so I +unlocks the corridor door that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">44</a></span> he don't use and skips across into the +general offices.</p> + +<p>"Say," says I to Mallory, "you're wanted in the boss's office. No, not +the old man's; Mr. Robert's. Skin into your coat and come along."</p> + +<p>Never fazes him a bit. He just hunches his shoulders, knocks the dust +off his hands, and trots after. When I gets him in there I tells him to +wait a minute, and then I goes out through the right way and lugs in +Dicky and sister.</p> + +<p>Was it a surprise party? Well, say! Dicky lets out a roar, makes a +plunge for him, hammers him on the back, works the pump handle, and +talks a blue streak.</p> + +<p>"Well, Skiddy, old man, here we are!" says he. "Thought you'd given us +the shake for good, eh? But we heard you'd gone in with the +Corrugated,—saw Blicky in Venice and he told us,—so when we came +ashore we wired father to hold the car over one train for us while we +hunted you up. Sis wouldn't let me come unless she could too. Here, Sis, +it's your turn. Blaze ahead now and give the boy what you said you +would. I'll turn my back."</p> + +<p>I didn't, though. Was there any hangin' off about Sis? Not so you'd +notice it. She just steps up and makes a grab for Mallory and——Aw, +say! One like that must be good for chapped lips. If I'm ever handed one +of them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">45</a></span> kind I won't wash it off for a month. It tickles Dicky most to +death.</p> + +<p>"He-haw!" says he, so's the window panes rattle. "She said she'd do it. +And she did, didn't she, eh, Skid?"</p> + +<p>Mallory couldn't prove an alibi. He was the worst rattled man I ever +see, and as for blushin'—he got up a color like the lady heroine in a +biff-bang drama. He acted as though he didn't know whether he was +loopin' the loops or having a dream that was too good to be true. Once +or twice he tried to unloosen some remarks; but Sis and Dicky was both +talkin' to once and he never got a show. They was tellin' him how glad +they was to see him again, and what a great man he was, and how Sis was +comin' back to town next month for the rest of the season, and all +that—when right in the middle of it the door opens and in comes Mr. +Robert.</p> + +<p>Say, I felt like a noon extra in a bunch of six o'clock editions. I'd +balled things up lovely, I had! Why, the only times a general office +hand ever gets a chance to stand on the Persian rug in the boss's office +is just before he gets the run or is boosted into a five-figure salary. +And here I has a twelve-dollar man usin' it like a public reception +hall! It was what was goin' to happen to Mallory that gave me the +shivers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">46</a></span></p> + +<p>"Torchy," says Mr. Robert, "what's all this?"</p> + +<p>"S-s-sh!" says I. "It's Old Home Day, and the lady is handin' out +choc'late creams. Wait up; maybe it'll be your turn next."</p> + +<p>"But, see here, I don't understand," says he. "Who are these persons, +and why——"</p> + +<p>"Ah, say!" says I. "Ain't you got any sportin' blood? Besides, I don't +know the answer myself."</p> + +<p>I could of kept that up just about one more round before I'd fell +through a crack; but just as Mr. Robert was framin' up another conundrum +Dicky turns around and spots him.</p> + +<p>"Why, hello, Bob!" yells Dicky, as gentle as if he was hailin' someone +across Broadway. "By Jove, though, I forgot all about you being in the +Corrugated too! But of course you are. Sis and I just ran in a minute to +look up Skid. Good old Skid! Great boy, eh, Bob?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Robert takes a look over by the window at Mallory, who wasn't seein' +a thing but Sis and wasn't hearin' anything but what she was sayin'—and +she was sayin' a lot.</p> + +<p>"Is—is that Skid?" says Mr. Robert.</p> + +<p>"Oh, come along now, Bob," says Dicky, pokin' him in the vest playful. +"You don't mean to say you don't know Skid Mallory, the Great Skid, best +quarterback we ever turned out, the one that went through Harvard for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">47</a></span> +forty-five yards, and that with a broken ankle? Don't know Skid? Why, +say!"</p> + +<p>"I take it all back," says Mr. Robert. "Of course I know him; but not so +well as you do, Dicky. I wasn't one of the coaches, you know, and I +haven't kept the run of the team for the last year or two. But I'm glad +to see the Great Skid. How the deuce does he happen to be up here, +though?"</p> + +<p>"He-haw!" says Dicky. "That's rich, that is? Shows how much you know of +Corrugated affairs, Bob. Why, man alive, Skid's one of the chaps that's +runnin' your old gent's trust. This is his office you're in now."</p> + +<p>"Really!" says Mr. Robert. He takes another look at Mallory, who's deaf +and dumb and blind to everything but Sis, and then he turns for a good +hard look at me.</p> + +<p>I grins kind of foolish and nods. Then I jumps behind Dicky and begins +to wigwag over his shoulder for Mr. Robert to keep it up. I didn't know +whether he would or not. I wa'n't sure but what he'd think I'd turned +batty, by the motions I was goin' through; but he's a sport, Mr. Robert +is. He didn't know what was on the card; but he takes a chance.</p> + +<p>So Dicky waltzes him over to the pair by the window, and makes Mr. +Robert and Mallory acquainted, and jollies 'em both, and all three of +'em talk football to Mallory, who blushes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">48</a></span> worse than ever and don't +know which way to turn. They keep that up until Dicky pulls out his +watch, grabs Sis by the arm, and hollers that they've got to make a +break for the Washington Limited. Sis is shakin' good-by with both of +'em at once, when she thinks of somethin' funny.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Robert!" says she. "I want to know which of you is who here, +don't you know. Is it you that works for Skid, or Skid that works for +you?"</p> + +<p>"Chee!" thinks I. "That upsets the soup kettle."</p> + +<p>Mr. Robert looks at Mallory, and Mallory looks at him. There was no +breakin' away; for she has hold of a hand apiece. Both of 'em makes a +start; but Mr. Robert gets the floor. "Why," says he, "I guess we're +both working for the Corrugated, only one of us works a little harder +than the other."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" says Sis, givin' Mallory a smile that was worth payin' money to +see. "I thought so."</p> + +<p>The next minute they makes a dash for an elevator goin' down, and that +part of it was over. We'd worked the bluff all the way through, and Sis +has lugged off the idea that Mallory was at the top of the bunch.</p> + +<p>But there was Mr. Robert, waitin' to talk Dutch to us.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">49</a></span></p> + +<p>Mallory he starts in to say that he's sorry for seemin' so cheeky; but +that's about all he can say.</p> + +<p>"Ah, cheese it!" says I, buttin' in. "What do you know about it? It was +me put up the game, and if Mr. Robert had loafed another half an hour at +the club like he usually does, there wouldn't have been any mix up. Say, +you leave this to me."</p> + +<p>Mallory didn't want to leave it like that; but Mr. Robert was holdin' +the door open for him, so he couldn't do anything else. When we had it +all to ourselves, the boss ranges me up in front of him for the court of +inquiry session.</p> + +<p>"Well?" says he, real solemn.</p> + +<p>I takes all that in and gives him the wink. "Say," says I, "didn't I +have my nerve with me, though?"</p> + +<p>He kind of blinks at that; but it don't fetch him.</p> + +<p>"Who's Dicky, your whisperin' friend?" says I.</p> + +<p>"Nobody much," says he. "His father's a Senator."</p> + +<p>"Well, say, now," says I, "you didn't want me to chase a Senator's son +and a real swell girl like Sis off into a place like the general office +reception room, did you! And wouldn't it have been a nice break if I'd +let out that we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">50</a></span> was smotherin' the Great Skid under a twelve-dollar +job?"</p> + +<p>"Was that why you had the impudence to appropriate my office?" says he.</p> + +<p>"That was part of it," says I.</p> + +<p>And that gives me an openin' to tell him the whole tale about Mallory, +from the hall bedroom act to the way he'd been postin' himself.</p> + +<p>"You think he's a valuable man, do you?" says Mr. Robert.</p> + +<p>"Valuable!" says I. "Why, he's all the goods. What if he did learn to +talk Greek once? He's forgettin' it, ain't he? And look at the way he +stands up to trouble! Don't that show there's good stuff in him?"</p> + +<p>"Well," says he, "what would you suggest?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, say!" says I. "Couldn't you give a guess? Why, if I was you I'd fix +it so that when Sis comes back to town she wouldn't find him on no kid's +job. I'd give him a show to get his name painted on a door somewhere."</p> + +<p>"Torchy," says he, punchin' the button for his secretary, "I shouldn't +wonder if we did."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">51</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2><h3>FROSTING THE PROFESS</h3> +</div> + +<p>Chee! but I'm gettin' to be useful! Course, I don't figure out no awful +slump in Corrugated stocks if I should get pettish some day and tell 'em +they'd got to find a new office boy. That ain't the kind of shredded +thought I'm feedin' on. I fit into a lot of places besides the chair +behind the brass gate. Why, I have to put on a sub. three or four times +a week, while I'm spreadin' myself out all over the lot.</p> + +<p>It all come of their makin' me special messenger to the boss; for since +old Mr. Ellins has been laid up with toothache in his knee joints +they've been chasin' me up to the Fift'-ave. ranch, with mail, and blank +bonds to be signed, and such truck. And that's how I came to get so +thick with Marjorie.</p> + +<p>I was waitin' in the front hall, pipin' off the gorgerifousness, when +some one pushes in through the draperies L. U. E. and I'm discovered. +And, say, she was a magnum, all right! You know the sort of pippins they +pick out to hang up by a string in the fruit store<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">52</a></span> window? Well, that +was her style. Big? She'd fit close in a Morris chair! And she didn't +look more'n eighteen or nineteen, either. For all her width, she was +built on good lines, and if she'd been divided up right there'd been +enough for a pair of as good lookers as you'd want to see.</p> + +<p>"O-o-o-o!" says she as she comes in. "See who's here!"</p> + +<p>I never says a word, but just twists my toes around the chair legs and +looks into my hat. Not that I'm any afraid of girls; but I wa'n't +feelin' so much to home there as I do in some places, and I didn't want +to make any break. But she wouldn't let it go at that.</p> + +<p>"O-o-o-o!" says she again, and as I squints up at her I sees the reg-lar +cut-up looks just bubblin' out.</p> + +<p>"G'wan!" says I. "I ain't no curiosity."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is Torchy then, isn't it?" says she.</p> + +<p>"You don't think this is a wig I'm wearin', do you?" says I. That's what +I got to expect with hair like mine. The minute my description's given +out everybody's on.</p> + +<p>She giggles and says that Brother Robert's been telling her about me. +"I'm Marjorie, you know," says she.</p> + +<p>"Well," says I, lookin' her over careful, "you'll do."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">53</a></span></p> + +<p>I meant it. Mr. Robert's only fair sized; but old man Ellins is a whale, +and I was thinkin' of him when I said that Marjorie was up to +specifications. She seems to think I've handed out a lump of +butterscotch, though, and we gets real chatty.</p> + +<p>I don't know what kind of fairy yarns Mr. Robert's been tearin' off at +home about me; but from the start she treats me like I was one of the +fam'ly. And Marjorie was just as nice as she was heavy. She didn't try +to carry any dog; but just blazes ahead and spiels out the talk. I get +next to the fact that she's just home from one of them swell boardin' +schools, where they pump French and music into young lady plutesses at a +dollar a minute, and throw in lessons on how to say "Home, François!" to +the chaffeur. This was some kind of a vacation Marjorie was havin', and +she was doin' her best to make every hour count.</p> + +<p>Knowin' all that helped me to keep from bein' so much jarred by her next +move. It was a couple of days after, on a Wednesday, and we'd got real +well acquainted, when Marjorie spots me as I was headin' back for the +office after leavin' some things for the boss.</p> + +<p>"Torchy," says she, "where's Robert? What was he doing when you left?"</p> + +<p>"Give it up," says I. "And, anyway, I ain't supposed to know."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">54</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'll bet you do, though," says she. "Couldn't you guess?"</p> + +<p>"If I did," says I, "I'd guess that he'd just made a run of ten or +twelve and was pushin' up the buttons on the string."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what that means," says she.</p> + +<p>"Well," says I, "it means that maybe he's playin' billiards at the +club."</p> + +<p>"Oh, darn!" says she, real wicked.</p> + +<p>It turns out that Brother Robert has said he'd take sister to the +matinée that afternoon, and the date has got clean by him. She wants to +go the worst way, too. Mother wasn't handy, Aunty May had the icebag on +her head, and there wasn't anyone else within reach. Accordin' to the +rules, there'd got to be some one.</p> + +<p>"Torchy," says she, "I don't see why you couldn't take me, as well as +anyone else."</p> + +<p>"Thanks," says I, "but I don't want to earn my release that way. I've +got 'em trained down to the office so they'll stand for a lot; but me +ringin' in a matinée durin' business hours would sure break the spell."</p> + +<p>"Oh, pshaw!" says she. "I can fix that part of it," and off she goes, up +to see puppah.</p> + +<p>If she'd come back and said the old man was havin' a fit on the floor, I +wouldn't have been any surprised. But, say, Marjorie must have a pull +accordin' to her weight; for inside<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">55</a></span> of four minutes she comes skippin' +down the front stairs, makin' the gas globes rattle and jigglin' the +pictures on the wall.</p> + +<p>"It's all right," says she. "Father says you're to telephone Mr. Piddie +that you won't be back, and then you're to see that I get to the theater +and home again without being kidnapped. I'll be ready in ten minutes."</p> + +<p>It was a shame, though, that I missed seein' Piddie when he got the +word. All I could hear was a gasp, like he'd been butted just above the +belt, and then he hung up the receiver. I expect I'll send him to the +nerve repair shop some day.</p> + +<p>But you should have seen me and Marjorie sittin' on the broadcloth +cushions and bein' carted down to the theater. I swelled up all I could; +but at that I wa'n't much more'n a dot on the landscape. There's times +when I feel real chesty and can hear my feet make a noise when I walk; +but this wa'n't one of 'em. And when it came to paradin' down the middle +row after the usher, with Marjorie puffin' behind, I felt like one of +them dinky little river tugs towin' a floatin' grain elevator. I was +lookin' for the house to let loose a "Ha-ha!" It didn't, though. They +expect most anything to drift into them afternoon shows.</p> + +<p>"Say, Miss Ellins," says I, after she'd squeezed herself into her place, +pinned her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">56</a></span> feather lid up in front of her, and opened the choc'late +creams, "I've been in such a dream I didn't look at the outside boards +or get a programme. What's doin'—variety or a tumpy-tump show?"</p> + +<p>"Why," says she, "this is Shakespeare's 'Romeo and Juliet.'"</p> + +<p>"Z-z-z-zing!" says I. "Stung again! Who unloaded the tickets on you?"</p> + +<p>What d'ye think, though? She'd picked this show out all by herself, put +up real money for it—and that with two Injun drammers runnin' right on +Broadway! Said she'd seen the same thing half a dozen times before, too. +Aw, say! I couldn't get next to any such batty move as that. And when I +thought how this was my first plunge into a two-dollar chair, it made me +sore.</p> + +<p>"Wake me up when it's all over," says I, and settles back for a real +rest.</p> + +<p>There's where I hung out the wrong number. That wa'n't any dope drammer +at all. Course, Shakespeare don't know how to ring in burnin' flat +houses, or mill explosions, or any real thrillers like that; but there's +somethin' doin' in his pieces. There was in this one, anyway. It was +quite some time before I got any glimmer of what it was all about; but +before the first act was over I was sittin' up, all right.</p> + +<p>"What do you think of her?" says Marjorie.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">57</a></span></p> + +<p>"The one with the Maxine Elliott eyes and the gushy voice?" says I. "Oh, +I don't call her such a much; but if Romeo wants her as bad as he says +he does, I hope it won't be a case of 'My pa won't let me.' But, say, +what for did they kill off the only real live one they had, that Mr. +Cuteo? Say, he was all to the good, and it was a shame to have him +punctured so quick!"</p> + +<p>The parts I liked, though, wa'n't the ones that Marjorie got herself +worked up over. It was the balcony scene she'd come for. When they got +to that she grips the seat in front and glues her eyes on them two that +was swappin' the long, lingerin' breakaway tackles, and every once in +awhile she heaves up a sigh like cuttin' out an airbrake.</p> + +<p>After it was all over, and most everybody that counted had swallowed +knockout drops, Marjorie gives me a sidelight on what's been runnin' +through her head.</p> + +<p>"I could do that," says she. "I just know I could!"</p> + +<p>"Do what?" says I.</p> + +<p>"Why, Juliet's part. I've been studying it for months, ever since our +class gave it at school. They wouldn't give me a part then; but just you +wait! I'll show them!"</p> + +<p>"You're joshin'," says I.</p> + +<p>Honest, I didn't think she meant it. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">58</a></span> didn't say any more about it, +and all the way home she was as quiet as a bale of hay.</p> + +<p>That was the last I see of Marjorie for near a week. Then, one afternoon +as I was goin' through Tinpan Alley on an errand, I sees the Ellins +carriage pull up, and out she comes.</p> + +<p>Now, say, I knew in a minute that wa'n't any place for Marjorie. The +buildin' she goes into is one of them old five-story brownstones, where +they sell wigs in the basement, costumes on the first floor, have a +theatrical agency on the second, and give voice culture and such stuff +above. Among the other signs was one that read, "School of Dramatic Art, +Room 9, Fifth Floor."</p> + +<p>"Chee!" says I. "You don't suppose Marjorie's got it that bad, do you?"</p> + +<p>First off I thinks I'll chase along and forget I'd seen anything at all. +Then I thinks of what Mr. Robert would say if he knew, and I stops. +Sure, I hadn't been called to play any Buttinsky part; but somehow I +didn't feel right about stayin' out, so the first thing I knows I'm +trailin' up the stairs. There wa'n't any need to do the sleuth act after +Marjorie got started. Anyone on the floor could have heard it; for she +was spoutin' the Juliet lines like a carriage caller, and whenever she +made a rush to the footlights the floor beams creaked. It was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">59</a></span> enough to +drag a laugh out of a hearse driver. And guess what the guy was tellin' +her!</p> + +<p>"Great!" says he. "You're almost as good as Mary Anderson was at her +best, and as for Marlowe, she can't touch you. Excellent, that last +speech! What fire, what expression, what talent! Why, young woman, all +you need is a Broadway production to sweep 'em off their feet! I'll +arrange it for you. It means money, of course; but after the first +cost—fame, nothing but fame!"</p> + +<p>Now, how was that for a hot-air blast? Wouldn't that make a short ice +crop if you let it loose up the Hudson?</p> + +<p>But it wa'n't what he said, so much as how he was sayin' it, that got me +int'rested. There's some voices you don't have to hear but once to +remember a lifetime, an this was one of that kind. It was one of these +husky baritones, like what does the coonsongs for the punky records they +put into the music boxes at the penny arcades. That was as near as I +could map it for a minute or so while I was tryin' to throw up the +picture of the man behind the voice. And, then it hits me—Professor +Booth McCallum!</p> + +<p>Oh, skincho, what a front! Why, when I was on the Sunday editor's door +the professor used to show up reg'lar with some new scheme for winnin' +space. Talk about your self-acting press agents! He had the bunch shoved +to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">60</a></span> curb. All he had to bank on was a ten-minute turn at a 14th-st. +continuous house, fillin' in between the trained pig and the strong +lady; but he wanted as much type set about himself as if he'd been Dave +Warfield.</p> + +<p>When he couldn't get next to anybody else, he used to give me the +earache tellin' of the times when he played stock in one of Daly's road +comp'nies, and how he had to quit because John Drew was jealous of him. +Then he'd leave his stuff with me and I'd promise to sneak it into the +dramatic notes the first time I found the forms unlocked.</p> + +<p>And to think of a hamfatter like McCallum, who's come back from Buffalo +on a brake beam so often that he always sleeps with one arm crooked +around the bedpost, havin' the nerve to call himself a school of +dramatic art! Course, I didn't think Marjorie was so easy as to fall for +a fake like that. She must be stringin' him.</p> + +<p>But the minute I see her come out I knew she'd swallowed the hook. I'd +dropped back into the far end of the hall, where it was dark; but as she +walks under the skylight I sees the pleased look on her face, like she +was havin' a view of her lithographs on all the gold frames in the +subway. I waits until McCallum shuts himself in to throw bouquets at his +picture in the glass, and then I slips down just in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">61</a></span> time to catch +Marjorie as she's climbin' into the carriage.</p> + +<p>"Is this the lady that's entered for the heavyweight Juliet +championship?" says I, tryin' to break the news to her gentle.</p> + +<p>It shook her up a good deal, just the same. Her face gets the color of +an auction flag, and she jounces down on the seat in a way that makes +the springs flat out like bed slats.</p> + +<p>"Why, Torchy!" says she. "Where did you come from, and what do you +mean?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I've taken out a butt-in license," says I. "I'm on, Miss Ellins. I +wa'n't invited to the rehearsal; but I was there."</p> + +<p>"Listening outside?" says she.</p> + +<p>"Uh-huh," says I.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Torchy!" says she. "Did you hear how lovely the professor talked of +the way I did it?"</p> + +<p>"About your havin' Julia Marlowe sewed in a sack? Sure thing," says I.</p> + +<p>"But you mustn't tell anyone," says she.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't want the job," says I. "I can draw a diagram of the riot +there'll be when mommer and popper get the bulletin."</p> + +<p>"I don't care," says Marjorie. "They never want me to do anything. It's +always, 'Oh, Marjorie, you're too big.' In summer I can't go bathing +because they say I'm a sight in a bathing suit, and in winter they won't +let me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">62</a></span> skate because they're afraid I'll break through. The boys won't +dance with me, and the girls shut me out of basketball. But Professor +McCallum has been perfectly dear. He said right away that I wasn't a bit +too stout to be an actress. I'm not, either! Why, I weigh less than two +hundred, with my jacket off; honest, I do! He liked my voice, too. And +this was only my third lesson. Anyway, I'd just love to play Juliet, and +I mean to do it!"</p> + +<p>Well, say, that was a proposition to give you a headache. I couldn't go +runnin' to Mr. Robert or the boss with any tales about Miss Marjorie. +That ain't what I'm on the payroll for. But I couldn't let McCallum play +a friend of mine for a good thing; so I just opens up on him.</p> + +<p>"Why," says I, "he's a never was. Maybe he used to carry a spear, or +play double-up parts on the haymow circuit; but that's about all. He's a +common, everyday, free lunch frisker, Mac is. I used to know all about +him when I was in the newspaper business; so this is a straight steer. +He's just tollin' you along because he's had a dream that if he gets you +real stuck on yourself you'll come across with two or three thousand for +expenses and will be too tender-hearted to squeal afterwards. That's his +game, and all you've got to do to queer it is to send him ten and say +the folks object."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">63</a></span></p> + +<p>That's about the way I put it, drawin' it as strong as I knew how. Does +Marjorie see the point and heave up any thanks about my bein' her true +friend? Not her! She calls me impid'nt and says she's got a good mind to +box my ears right there. So it was up to me to calm her down.</p> + +<p>"All right, Miss Marjorie," says I. "If I've said anything I can't +prove, I'll take it back; but if you'll follow me upstairs again for a +minute, and wait outside in the hall, I'll have a little talk with the +professor that'll settle it one way or the other."</p> + +<p>No, she wouldn't do it, and she didn't want me ever to speak to her +again. I was too fresh, I was!</p> + +<p>"Then I guess I'll have to send Mr. Robert up to engage seats for that +Juliet stab of yours," says I, makin' a play to move off.</p> + +<p>It was a bluff; but it fetched her. She was willin' to do 'most anything +if I wouldn't tell Brother Robert; so back we goes up to the acting +school on the top floor. I left her leanin' up against the wall, right +near the open transom, and makes a break for McCallum.</p> + +<p>He was right there, too. He's one of these short-legged, ham-faced gents +that's almost as tall when he's sittin' down as when he's standin' up. A +neck that takes a No. 18 turn-down collar goes with that. He has his +hands in his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">64</a></span> pockets, an Egyptian joss-stick in his mouth, and he's +straddlin' up and down, as satisfied with himself as if he'd just cashed +a ticket on the right horse.</p> + +<p>"Hello, profess!" says I. "I spots your name on the sign; so I takes the +foot elevator up to see how you're comin' on."</p> + +<p>"Quite right, son," says he, "quite right."</p> + +<p>He didn't need any whizz plane then to beat the Curtiss record. He was +soarin', soarin,' and too busy with it to take much notice of me.</p> + +<p>"You ain't been round to the office lately," says I, lettin' on I was +still with the paper.</p> + +<p>"No, son," says he; "but you can inform your dramatic man down there +that if he wants an important piece of news he'd better come and see +me," and with that he taps his chest like he was stunnin' the gallery.</p> + +<p>"Thought you looked like happy days, professor," says I. "What's it +like? You ain't been takin' on any swell pupils, have you?"</p> + +<p>"Haven't I, though?" says he, stickin' his thumbs in his vest pockets +and comin' up on his toes as if he was goin' to crow. "Haven't I?"</p> + +<p>"Say, Mac," says I confidential, "that wasn't her I saw drivin' off in +the private buggy as I come in, was it—the wide one?"</p> + +<p>"That was her," says he, "the new Juliet."</p> + +<p>"Juliet!" says I. "Aw, you're kiddin'!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">65</a></span> Honest, professor, do Juliets +come as heavy as that?"</p> + +<p>Then he winks. I could see he was just bustin' to let it out to some +one, and here was his chance. "Son," says he, "when young ladies have +the price to pay for such luxuries as the cultivation of a dramatic +talent that doesn't exist, size doesn't count. I've coached a Hamlet +with lop ears and a pug nose, a Lady of Lyons that had a face you could +chop wood with, and I guess I'm not going to draw the line at a Juliet +whose father is president of a trust, even if she is something of a baby +elephant!"</p> + +<p>I heard the wall crack at that, and I suspected Marjorie'd got a shock.</p> + +<p>"Can she act any?" says I.</p> + +<p>"Act!" says he. "It's enough to make the angels weep to see her try. +Imagine, my boy, a one hundred and thirty-pound Romeo trying to hug his +way around a two hundred and fifty-pound Juliet! Why, we'd have to prop +up the balcony with a structural iron pillar and——"</p> + +<p>It was too bad to have the flow stopped, for he was enjoyin' himself; +but just then the door was jerked open and in rushes Marjorie, her eyes +blazin', her face white, and so mad she couldn't speak. As she looms up +in the door, lookin' bigger'n ever, she was diggin' somethin' out of her +handbag, somethin' shiny. It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">66</a></span> wa'n't anything but a silver purse; but +the professor must have thought it was somethin' else, for he gives only +one look. Then he throws up both hands, hollers "Don't shoot, don't +shoot!" and makes a dive under a desk in the corner. The hole under that +desk wa'n't built for divin' through; so McCallum wedges himself in +there like a cork in a bottle, wavin' his legs in the air, and callin' +for help.</p> + +<p>"There!" says Marjorie, throwin' some bills on the floor. "That's for +what I owe you, you horrid old fraud! Baby elephant, am I? Oh, you +wretch!" With that she goes out and bangs the door behind her.</p> + +<p>It was all me and the cornet artist next door could do to separate +McCallum from the desk, and even when we worked him loose he didn't want +to come out. When we'd got him into a chair, and he'd felt himself all +over careful, he says to me:</p> + +<p>"Torchy, how—how many times did she shoot?"</p> + +<p>And when I gets back to the office Mr. Robert wants to know why I didn't +let 'em know I was goin' all the way to Washington after them stamps.</p> + +<p>"Chee!" says I, "but you're gettin' restless! Maybe you think I oughter +travel by pneumatic tube? Huh!"</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">67</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2><h3>WHERE MILDRED GOT NEXT</h3> +</div> + +<p>There's nothin' wins out surer in this town of New York than puttin' up +a good front. If you've got the fur coat and the goggles on your cap, +you can walk or ride on a transfer, and folks'll take it as a cinch that +your bubble's back in the garage bein' fitted with a new set of +hundred-dollar tires. Why, just the smell of benzin on a suit you've had +out to the cleaners will give 'em the dream, if you throw your chest out +right.</p> + +<p>Look at the way Mildred has us goin'. Maybe you don't know about +Mildred. Say, I'll bet if you met up with her on Fift'-ave. you'd hold +your breath till she got by and wonder whether she was a Vanderbilt or +one of the Goulds! But she floats into the Corrugated Trust offices more +or less reg'lar every day, just the same, and does her little stunt on +the typewriter at so much per. Honest, when I sees her sailin' in +mornin's, with all her swell drygoods on, I'm just as liable as not to +half break my neck openin' the door for her. That's what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">68</a></span> I did the +first time I saw her, when I was new on the gate.</p> + +<p>"This way, lady," says I, and when she pikes right by and heads for the +cloakroom I almost has a fit.</p> + +<p>Maybe there's some hot ones down around Broad-st. that drives to +business in cabs and pounds the keys durin' office hours; but for a +genuine, mercerized near silk we stand ready to back Mildred against the +field. She'd have an expert guessin', Mildred would. "Miss Morgan" is +the way she figures on the payroll; but that never sounded rich enough +for me.</p> + +<p>It was the first week I was there that I begun to get a line on Mildred. +One day the old man calls me in and hands me a letter that's been put on +his desk for him to sign. He was plum color, Old Hickory was, so mad he +could have chewed a file.</p> + +<p>"Boy," says he, "take this into the main office, find out who M. M. is, +and bring her in here. Anybody that can spell in that fashion I want to +take a good look at."</p> + +<p>Think of the shock I gets when Piddie tells me them letters stand for +Mildred Morgan.</p> + +<p>"Lady," says I, "I hates to say it, but the boss is waitin' to hand out +a call-down to you. Don't you go to gettin' scared stiff, though; for the +first cussword he lets go of I'll chuck a chair at him."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">69</a></span></p> + +<p>The smile I gets for that would have been worth half a dozen jobs. I was +lookin' for her to go white and begin bitin' her upper lip, like they +usually does; but she ain't that kind—not on your nameplate! She just +peels off the sleeve protectors, sets her side combs in firm, gives her +face a dab or so with the rabbit's foot, and starts along after me, with +that new antelope walk of hers, as easy and pleased as if she'd been +asked to come to the front and pour tea.</p> + +<p>And she's got the costume the part calls for, mind you! They're the only +clothes of the kind I ever see wore into this buildin'. I couldn't say +what they was made of; but I know they're the button-up-the-back style, +and that they stick to her as if they'd been put on by a paper-hanger. I +guess you'd call Mildred a 1911 model. Anyway, she seems to bulge in the +right places; though how anyone so long-waisted as that can get +themselves into such a rig without callin' for help is somethin' I +passes up.</p> + +<p>Well, I tows her into the boss's office, feelin' as mean as a welsher. +The old man has settled back in his chair, a cigar pointin' out of one +corner of his mouth, and a letter in one fist. While I'm gone he's run +across another, worse than the first, by the marks he's made on it, and +he's got to the point where a thermometer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">70</a></span> slipped down the back of his +neck would go off like a cap pistol.</p> + +<p>"See here!" says he, growlin' it out grouchy, without lookin' up. "I'd +like to have you run your eye over that, and then tell me where in +thunder you learned to spell such s-u-t-c-h!"</p> + +<p>"Why," says she, "I always spell it that way; don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Don't I!" roars the old man. "Do you take me for a——"</p> + +<p>Then he looks up. Well, say, you talk about your fadin' sunsets! Nothin' +I ever see beat the way the boss lost his crushed raspb'rry face tint +and bleached out salmon pink. "Why—why—er—are you sure this is some +of your work, young woman?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, indeed," says she, kind of gurgly and aristocratic and as sweet +as pie, "that's mine. But you've made so many horrid marks on it that I +shall have to do it all over again."</p> + +<p>"Yes," says he, "I'm afraid that's so. But we have a way here, you know, +of spelling explicit with a C instead of an S."</p> + +<p>"Ruhlly?" says she. "How odd!"</p> + +<p>"It's one of our fads, too," goes on the old man, "not to spell +Corrugated g-a-i-t-e-d. We've simplified it by leaving out the I. Of +course, we don't expect you to learn all these things at once; but pick +'em up as fast as you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">71</a></span> can. That—that's all. Thank you very much, +Miss—er——What's the name?"</p> + +<p>"Morgan," says she, "Mildred Morgan."</p> + +<p>"Ah," says the boss, "very much obliged, Mil—er—Miss Morgan," and +before I could get to the door he has hopped up and opened it for her.</p> + +<p>Then he turns around and sees me standin' there grinnin'. "Torchy," says +he, "are there any more like that around the shop?"</p> + +<p>"None that I ever saw," says I.</p> + +<p>"Thank Heaven!" says he. "Send in one of the other kind."</p> + +<p>"Want a real ripe one?" says I.</p> + +<p>He does. And say, we got plenty of them. I picks out one with washed-out +eyes, front teeth that sticks out, and no shape to speak of. She could +make the typewriter do a double shuffle, though, and there couldn't +anybody around the place sling out words faster'n she could take 'em +down on her pad, or any she couldn't spell right the first crack. The +old man fixes it that she's to go over Mildred's work with an ink eraser +before it comes to him.</p> + +<p>If Mildred knew about it, she never let on. Nothin' much bothered her. +She'd come sailin' in any old time durin' the forenoon, lookin' as +han'some as a florist's window and actin' as if she never heard of such +a thing as a time clock. Piddie tackles her only once.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">72</a></span></p> + +<p>"Miss Morgan," says he, "business begins here at nine o'clock promptly."</p> + +<p>"How absurd!" says Mildred, and Piddie don't get over the shock for an +hour.</p> + +<p>About the second week all hands took a vote that Mildred wa'n't much of +a success as a typewriter artist and that she ought to be fired. The old +man put it up to Mr. Robert, and Mr. Robert shoves it back at him. Then +they both loaded it onto Piddie and cleared out. When they come back +they asks him if he's done it.</p> + +<p>"Well," says he, colorin' up, "not exactly."</p> + +<p>Come to make him own up, he'd gone at the job so easy and had been so +polite about it that Miss Morgan has time to head him off with a strike +for more pay, and before he can back out he's promised to see what can +be done.</p> + +<p>"Couldn't you talk to her, Mr. Ellins?" says he.</p> + +<p>"Great Scott, no!" says the boss. "Tell her she's raised, and let it go +at that."</p> + +<p>For awhile, though, Mildred cost the firm a lot more money than her +salary, if you reckon up as worth anything the time a lot of two-by-four +ink-slingers spent makin' goo-goo eyes at her. It was a losin' game all +around. Mildred didn't seem to be pinin' for any such honors, and after +they got well acquainted with the fact that she wouldn't stand for lunch +invites, or bids to the theater, and didn't want to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">73</a></span> be walked home with +by a perfect gent, they let up on that foolishness. It leaves 'em dizzy, +though. There's pinheads on our gen'ral office staff who believes they +never missed breakin' a heart before, and they can't figure out just +what's the matter with the combination.</p> + +<p>There was others, too, that couldn't place Mildred, until some one hints +that maybe she's a sure enough swell whose folks had gone broke, and +that she's picked out a typewriter job as a sort of trapdoor that would +let her down out of sight and keep the meal ticket renewed.</p> + +<p>After that Mildred is as much of a myst'ry as why folks live in +Brooklyn. We was all wise to the main proposition, though, and it was +funny to hear 'em all sayin' that they'd known it right along. Kind of +set us up some, too, havin' a real ex-ice cutter like her right on the +floor with us. All the other key pounders, that had been givin' her the +stary eye at first, flops around and uses the sugar shaker. There wasn't +anything they wouldn't do for her, and they takes turns holdin' her +jacket, so's to get a peek at the trademark on the inside of the collar.</p> + +<p>But Piddie is the most pleased of any. He thinks he's right to home +among carriage folks, and every time she comes near he bows and scrapes +and begins to shoot off the "Aw, I'm suah's" and the "Don'tcher know's," +until<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">74</a></span> you'd think he was talkin' through a mouthful of hot breakfast +food.</p> + +<p>"Chee!" says I to him. "You act like you thought this was a five o'clock +tea."</p> + +<p>"I trust," says he, "I know a lady when I see one, and that I know how +to treat her too."</p> + +<p>"That's so," says I. "Too bad you wa'n't on the stage, Piddie, in one of +them 'Me lu'd, the carriage waits' parts."</p> + +<p>That gives me a cue, and the next time she sends me for supplies I says +to him, "Mr. Piddie," says I, "the Lady Mildred presents her compliments +and says she wants a new paste brush."</p> + +<p>Gets him wild, that does; so I sticks to it. The others hears it and +picks it up too, and she wa'n't called anything but Lady Mildred from +that on. First thing I knew I'd said it to her face; but she never so +much as looks surprised. You'd thought she'd been called Lady Mildred +all her life.</p> + +<p>"Who knows?" says Piddie. "Perhaps she has."</p> + +<p>Honest, we was makin' up all kinds of pipe dreams about her, and +believin' 'em as we went along. There was no findin' out from her what +was so and what she wa'n't. She never gets real chummy with anyone; but +keeps us jollied along about so much. It was dead easy. All she had to +do was to throw a smile our way, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">75</a></span> we was tickled for a week. Wasn't +anyone around the place needed so much waitin' on as her; but no one +ever minds. Gen'rally there was two or three on the jump for her, and +others willin' to be.</p> + +<p>Course, that don't include Mr. Robert. He seems to think Lady Mildred +was some kind of a joke; but, then, I expect he sees so many stunners +like her every night, knockin' around at dinner parties and such, that +he gets tired lookin' at 'em. I'd been carryin' it against him, though, +and maybe that's what put it into my nut to get so gay with Louie.</p> + +<p>Louie's the gent in the leather leggin's and north-pole outfit that +comes around after Mr. Robert every night with the machine. Say, it's a +reg'lar rollin' bay window, that car of Mr. Robert's! I wouldn't mind +havin' one of that kind taggin' around after me. But if I was pickin' a +shover I'd pass Louie by. He wears his nose too high in the air and is +too friendly with himself to suit me. There's a lot of them honk-honk +boys just like him; but he's the only one I ever has a chance to get +real confidential with. It's like this:</p> + +<p>Mr. Robert says to me, "Torchy, if I'm not back by five o'clock, you may +tell Louie when he comes that he needn't wait."</p> + +<p>"Sure thing," says I.</p> + +<p>Then, when Mr. Robert don't show up at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">76</a></span> closin' time, I chases down to +the curb and sings out, "Hey, Frenchy, you tip huntin' ex-waiter! It's +back to the garage for yours! And say! After you've run your old coal +cart into the shed you can go let yourself out as a sign for a fur +store. Ah, that's right. Nothin' doin' here. Skidoo!"</p> + +<p>Always makes me feel better after I've handed Louie one like that—his +ears turns such a lovely pink, specially when there's a crowd around. +When I has time to chew it over I can think up some beauts. But this +night I was goin' to tell you about I didn't have any warnin' at all. +Mr. Robert was right in the middle of a heart-to-heart talk with a +Pittsburg man, when five o'clock comes and the word is sent up that +Louie has came.</p> + +<p>"Tell him to come back in about half an hour," says Mr. Robert to me.</p> + +<p>"Repeat at five-thirt'," says I, sliding out for the elevator.</p> + +<p>It was an elegant afternoon,—for pneumonia,—slush and rain and ice-box +zephyrs gallopin' up and down the street. Louie didn't look as though he +was enjoyin' it any too much, for all his furs. I was just turnin' up my +collar for a dash across the sidewalk and back, when out comes Lady +Mildred in a raincoat that was a dream and carryin' a silver-handled +umbrella such as you don't find on the bargain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">77</a></span> counters. And then I +gets my funny thought.</p> + +<p>"Carriage for you, miss," says I, grabbin' the rain tent and hoistin' +it. "Right this way, miss."</p> + +<p>Say, she's a dead game sport, Mildred is. Never stopped to ask any fool +questions; but prances right out to the car, just as though she'd +expected it to be there.</p> + +<p>"Take the lady home, and be back after Mr. Robert in half an hour, +Louie," says I, jerkin' open the door and handin' her in.</p> + +<p>It was about then that I almost had heart failure. Stowed away in the +further corner, as comf'table as if he was at the club, was Benny. I +forget what the rest of his name is; Mr. Robert never calls him anything +but Benny. They're chums from way back,—travel in the same push, live +on the same block, and has the same ideas about killin' time. But that's +as far as the twin description goes. Benny looks and acts about as much +like Mr. Robert as a cream puff looks like a ham sandwich. All Benny +ever does is put on more fat and grow more cushions on the back of his +neck. He's about five foot three, both ways, one of these rolypoly boys, +with dimples all over him, pink and white cheeks, and baby-blue eyes. +Oh, he's cute, Benny is; but the bashfullest forty-four fat that ever +carried a cane, a reg'lar Mr. Shy Ann kind of a duck. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">78</a></span> has a lisp +when he talks too, and that makes him seem cuter'n ever.</p> + +<p>About twice a week he drifts up to the brass gate and says to me, "Thay, +thonny, whereth Bob?" Makes my mouth pucker up like I'd been suckin' a +lemon, just to hear him. And if he sees one of the girls lookin' +sideways at him he'll dodge behind a post.</p> + +<p>There he was, though, and there was Mildred pilin' in alongside of him. +She didn't give any sign of backin' out, and it was too late for me to +hedge; so I ups and does the honors.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Benny," says I, "Miss Morgan."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I—I thay," splutters Benny, makin' a move to bolt, "perhapth I'd +better——"</p> + +<p>"Forget it!" says I, slammin' the door. "Ding, ding, Louie! Get a move +on! If you don't fetch back here by five-thirt' you lose your job. See?"</p> + +<p>Frenchy didn't need any urgin', though, and he has the wheels goin' +round in no time at all. I watched the car for a couple of blocks and +didn't see anything of Benny jumpin' out of the window; so I reckons +that he's too scared to make the break. I had a picture of him, +squeezin' himself up against the side of the tonneau, lookin' at his +thumbs, and turnin' all kinds of colors.</p> + +<p>"If it don't give him apoplexy, maybe it'll do him good," thinks I.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">79</a></span></p> + +<p>It was funny while it lasted; but when I thinks of what Mr. Robert'll +say when the tale is doped out to him. I has a chill. First off I +thought I'd go up and write out my resignation; but then I remembers how +long it is since I've had the sport of bein' fired, and I makes up my +mind to see the thing through.</p> + +<p>I was lookin' to be called up on the carpet first thing next mornin', +but it don't come. Mr. Robert never says a word all day long, nor the +next, and by that time the thing was gettin' on my nerves. Then Benny +bobs up, as usual. I has my eye peeled from the minute he opens the +door. He don't look warlike or anything; but you never can tell about +these fat men, so when he hits the gate I dodges behind the water +cooler.</p> + +<p>"Wha—w'ath the matter, thonny?" says he.</p> + +<p>"G'wan!" says I.</p> + +<p>"Ithn't Bob in?" says he.</p> + +<p>"Go on in and tell Mr. Robert, if you want to," says I; "but don't look +for any openin' to sit on me. No pancake act for mine!"</p> + +<p>He just grins at that; but goes on into the office without makin' a +single pass at me. Course, I was sure the riot act was due inside of an +hour. But never a word. Nor Mildred don't have anything to say, either. +It was like waitin' for a blast that don't go off.</p> + +<p>Things went on that way for a couple of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">80</a></span> weeks, and I was forgettin' +about it, when Piddie tells me one mornin' that Mildred's up and quit +and nobody knows why. About an hour after that Mr. Robert sends for me.</p> + +<p>"Torchy," says he, "I'm tracing out a mystery, and as you seem to know +about everything that's going on, I'm going to ask you to help me out."</p> + +<p>"Ah, say," says I, "w'at's the use stringin' out the agony? Benny's +squealed, ain't he?"</p> + +<p>"No," says Mr. Robert. "That's the point. Benny hasn't. All I've been +able to get out of him is that a short time ago he met a very charming +young woman—in my car."</p> + +<p>"That's right," says I. "It was me put her in."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" says Mr. Robert. "Now we're getting somewhere."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you've hit the trail," says I.</p> + +<p>"Well," says he, "who was she?"</p> + +<p>"Why," says I, "the Lady Mildred."</p> + +<p>"Whe-e-e-ew!" says Mr. Robert, through his front teeth. "Not the one +that spells such with a T?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, chee!" says I. "What's the odds how she spells, so long as she's +got Lillian Russell in the back row? I didn't know your fat friend was +in the car, anyway, and I thinks Frenchy might as well be cartin' her +home in the rain as blockin' traffic on some side street. So I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">81</a></span> just +loads her in and gives Louie the word. She never knew but what you had +sense enough to do it yourself. Course, it was a fresh play for me to +make; but I'll stand for it, and if Benny's feelin's was hurt, or yours +was, you got an elegant show to take it out on me. Come on! Get out the +can and the string!"</p> + +<p>But you can't hustle Mr. Robert along that way. When he gets his +programme laid out there ain't any use to try any broad jumps. He wants +to know all about Mildred, who she is, where she comes from, and what's +her class.</p> + +<p>"You can take it from me," says I, "that she's a star. She's been up in +the top bunch too, I guess; anyone can see that. But so long as she's +jumped the job, where's the sense in lookin' up her pedigree now?"</p> + +<p>"Well," says Mr. Robert, "I am still more or less interested. You see, +she and Benny are to be married next month."</p> + +<p>"Honest?" says I.</p> + +<p>"I have it from Benny himself," says he.</p> + +<p>"Did Benny tell you how he worked up the nerve to make such a swift job +of it?" says I.</p> + +<p>He hadn't. Near as I could make out, Benny hadn't told much of anything.</p> + +<p>"Well," says I, "he's picked a winner, ain't he?"</p> + +<p>"That," says Mr. Robert, "is something I mean to find out."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">82</a></span></p> + +<p>And say, if you ever see that jaw of Mr. Robert's, you'll know he did. +And she wa'n't an Astor or a Gould in disguise. She was just plain Miss +Morgan, that had come on with her mother from Kansas City, or Omaha, or +somewhere out there; put in six or eight months in a swell dressmaker's +shop; learned how to make herself the kind of clothes that look like +ready money; shuffled off her corn-belt accent; and then broke into the +typewritin' game while she waited for somethin' better to turn up.</p> + +<p>"And Benny was it, wa'n't he?" says I to Mr. Robert.</p> + +<p>"With your help, Torchy," says he, "it appears that he was."</p> + +<p>"Well," says I, "he needed the push, all right, didn't he!"</p> + +<p>Fired? Me? Ah, quit your kiddin'! Why, they're tickled to death now, all +of 'em. They're beginnin' to find out that Mildred's quite a girl, even +if she ain't got a lot of fat-wad folks back of her.</p> + +<p>And say, w'atcher think! Benny comes around here the other day wearin' a +broad grin, lugs me out to his tailor's to have me taped for a whole +outfit of glad rags, and says I've got to be one of the ushers at the +weddin'. Wouldn't that sting you?</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">83</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2><h3>SHUNTING BROTHER BILL</h3> +</div> + +<p>Don't talk to me about weddin's! Sure, I've been mixed up in one. Maybe +there was orange blossoms and so on; but all that's handed me is a bunch +of lemon buds. Not that I'm carryin' any grouch. I might have known +better'n to butt into any such doin's. Long as I stick to bein' head +office boy, I knows who's what, and what's which, and anyone that thinks +they can give me the double cross is welcome to a try; but when it comes +to sittin' in at a wilt-thou fest I'm a reg'lar Cousin Zeke from the +red-mitten belt.</p> + +<p>Maybe I wouldn't have done so bad, though, if it hadn't been for Aunt +Laura. And say, mark it up on the bulletin right here, she ain't my +aunt! She's Benny's. I was tellin' you how I loaded Mildred, our lady +typewriter that was, into Mr. Robert's car alongside of Bashful Benny, +and what came of it, wa'n't I! And how Benny's so grateful that he says +I've got to be one of the ushers?</p> + +<p>Well, it was all goin' lovely, and the gen'ral<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">84</a></span> office force has chipped +in and bought 'em a swell weddin' present, and Benny's tailor has built +me a pair of striped pants and a John Drew coat, and Mr. Mallory's been +coachin' me how to act when I chase the folks into their seats, and +Piddie's been loadin' me up with polite conversation to fire off +whenever I gets a show, and everything's as gay around the shop as +though the directors had voted an extra dividend—when I'm stacked up +against Aunt Laura and it begins to cloud in the west.</p> + +<p>Aunt Laura is all Benny can show up for a fam'ly, and after you got to +know her you couldn't blame him for wantin' to start in on a new deal. +She's one of them narrow-eyed old girls that can look through a keyhole +without turnin' her head, and can dig up more suspicions in a minute +than most folks would in a month. I'll bet if the angel Gabriel should +show up and send in his card she'd make him prove who he was by playin' +the horn.</p> + +<p>It was a cinch she didn't mistake me for no angel, when Mr. Robert sends +me up there to do an errand for Benny. I wa'n't callin' for no aunts, +anyway, but just leavin' a note for Wilson—that's Benny's man—when +this sharp-nosed old party comes rubberin' into the front hall.</p> + +<p>"Marie," says she to the girl, "what boy is this? Where did he come +from? Who does<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">85</a></span> he want to see? Don't you dare leave him alone for a +minute!"</p> + +<p>That last touch gets me in the short ribs. "Ah, say," says I, "do I look +like a hallrack artist?"</p> + +<p>"That'll do, young man!" says she. "You may not be as bad as you look; +but I have my doubts."</p> + +<p>"Same to you, ma'am, and many of 'em," says I.</p> + +<p>"Mercy!" says she. "What impertinence!"</p> + +<p>"Please, ma'am," says the girl, "Mr. Ellins sent him up, and I——"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" says the old one. Then she gives me another look. "Boy," says she, +"what's your name!"</p> + +<p>"Torehy," says I. "Ain't it a snug fit?"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" says she again, and with the soft pedal on. "You're Torchy, are +you?"</p> + +<p>"There ain't any gettin' away from a name like that," says I.</p> + +<p>"Why," says she, doin' her best to call up a smile, "what a bright young +man you are!"</p> + +<p>"Specially on top," says I, throwin' a wink at Marie.</p> + +<p>"Ye-es," says Aunt Laura, "I always did think that copper-red shade of +hair was real pretty. Come right in, Torchy, while Marie gets you some +cake and a cup of tea."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">86</a></span></p> + +<p>"I ain't turnin' the shoulder to any cake," says I; "but you can cut out +the tea."</p> + +<p>Well, say, inside of three minutes from the start I'm planted comf'table +in one of the libr'y chairs, eatin' frosted cake with both hands, while +Marie's off hustlin' up lemonade and fancy crackers.</p> + +<p>Course, it was somethin' of a shock, such a quick shift as that. I ain't +got a glimmer as to what Aunt Laura's end of the game was; but so long +as the home-made pastry holds out I was as good as nailed to the spot. +She seems to get a heap of satisfaction watchin' me eat, almost as much +as though she was feedin' ground glass to her best enemy. You've seen +that kind, that you can stand well enough until they begin to grin at +you. Aunt Laura's bluff at smilin' was enough to make a cat get its back +up, and you could tell she didn't really mean it, as well as if she'd +said, "Now I'm goin' to give you an imitation of somebody that's +pleased."</p> + +<p>And all the time she was dealin' out a line of talk that was as smooth +as wet asphalt. Most of it was hot air that she said Benny'd been givin' +to her about me, and how sweet Mildred thought I was.</p> + +<p>That should have been my cue; but I was too busy with the cake.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">87</a></span></p> + +<p>"Miss Morgan is such a dear girl, isn't she?" says Aunt Laura.</p> + +<p>"Uh-huh," says I, pokin' in some frostin' that had lodged on the +outside.</p> + +<p>"You are quite well acquainted with her, aren't you?" says she.</p> + +<p>"Um-m-m-m," says I.</p> + +<p>"Let's see," goes on Aunt Laura, "what is it she did at the office!"</p> + +<p>"Chickety-click, ding-g-g!" says I, makin' motions with my fingers.</p> + +<p>"Oh, typewriting!" says she. "But I suppose she was very skillful at +it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, she was a bird!" says I.</p> + +<p>See what was happenin'? I was bein' pumped. It was more'n that too. +Everything I knew about Mildred, and a lot I guessed at, was emptied out +of me like she was usin' one of these vacuum cleaners on my head. When I +gets to telling about the place out West where Mildred lived before she +and her maw hit New York, Aunt Laura jumps up.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know some people who lived there once," says she. "I wonder if +any of them knew Miss Morgan?"</p> + +<p>With that she picks up the desk 'phone and gives a call. Did they know +any Miss Morgans out there? Yes, Mildred Morgan. Really! A brother too? +How interesting! Who was he, and what was he doing last? What! In the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">88</a></span> +State penitentiary! That was enough for Aunt Laura. She hangs up the +receiver and says to me:</p> + +<p>"Boy, when you get back to the office tell Mr. Robert I want to see him. +Come, you'd better be going now."</p> + +<p>It was a case of "Here's your hat—what's your hurry!"</p> + +<p>"Say," says I, "don't you go to swallowin' any tale about the Lady +Mildred havin' a brother that's a crook. There's lots of Morgans besides +her and J. P."</p> + +<p>But all Aunt Laura does is hold the door open for me; so I beats it, +feelin' about as chipper as though I'd been turnin' State's evidence. +The more I thinks of it, the cheaper I feels. Here I'd been playin' +myself for Mr. Foxy Cute, and had let an old lemon squeezer like Aunt +Laura wring me dry!</p> + +<p>Just what she's got up her sleeve about the penitentiary business, I +didn't know; but I wa'n't long in findin' out. Next day there was all +kinds of a row. Aunt Laura has looked up the invitation list for the +weddin', and, sure enough, among the also rans was a Mr. William Morgan, +with a State penitentiary address. With that, and what she'd heard over +the 'phone, Aunt Laura makes out a strong case. Was she goin' to stand +by and see her only nephew marry into a family of jailbirds? Not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">89</a></span> if she +could help it! So she calls in Mr. Robert and puts the layout before +him.</p> + +<p>It looks like a bad mess, with Mildred on the toboggan; for Mr. Robert +has said he'd see what could be done. He don't promise anything; but +Benny's always been such a willin' performer that he guesses maybe he +can talk him out of wantin' to get married. He didn't know Benny, +though. These short, fat, dimpled boys are just the ones to fool you, +and when it came to tellin' Benny about Brother Bill, that was doin' +time, Benny works his lips at high speed sayin' that he don't believe +it.</p> + +<p>"Anyway," says Benny, "it ithn't Bill I'm marrying. I don't give a cuth +for him. I'd juth ath thoon marry Mildred if her whole doothed family +wath in jail."</p> + +<p>"That settles it, Benny," says Mr. Robert. "If that's the way you feel. +I'll stand by you."</p> + +<p>Maybe Aunt Laura wa'n't wild, though, when she finds she can't block the +game. I was handlin' the office switchboard the afternoon she calls Mr. +Robert up to give him the rake-over, and the old girl warms up the wires +until she near has the lightnin' arresters out of business. It comes out +too that she's sore on Benny's bein' married because she sees the finish +of her steady job as boss of the house on the avenue. She can't queer +Mr. Robert though.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">90</a></span></p> + +<p>"Benny seems to have a clear idea as to just whom he wants to marry," +says he, "and that's enough for me. If Miss Morgan has a brother in the +penitentiary, and Benny doesn't mind, I'm sure I don't. I've known lots +of fellows who wished their brothers-in-law were in the same place. +Anyway, he'll not trouble us by showing up at the wedding, even if she +did send him an invitation."</p> + +<p>That's the kind of a sport Mr. Robert is. He's dead game, and when +you've got him for a friend you'll know who to send for if you should +ever get run in. So we goes along gettin' ready for the weddin' same's +if nothin's happened. It's billed for a church hitch; but there ain't +been any advertisin' done, so they don't expect any crowd. Look when +they has it too—right at lunch time!</p> + +<p>"Chee!" says I to Mr. Robert, who's running the thing, "you must be +playin' for a frost. Now if you'd hire one of them Third-ave. halls and +band, you might give 'em somethin' of a send-off; but it'll be hard to +tell this racket from one of these noonday prayin' bees they has down in +the wholesale crock'ry district."</p> + +<p>Mr. Robert says that Benny bein' so bashful, and Mildred not knowin' +many folks on East, they wanted to make it as quiet as they could.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">91</a></span></p> + +<p>"It'll have a pantomime show beat to death on quiet," says I. "Put me on +the door, will you, so's I can keep awake joshin' the sidewalk cop?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Robert says he thinks that'll be a good place for me, as they ain't +goin' to let anyone in without a ticket and I'm used to shuntin' cranks. +But say, I'm so rattled when I get inside of that suit they sent around +for me to wear that I don't know whether I'm goin' up or comin' down. +Honest, that coat made me feel like I was wearin' a dress. I didn't mind +the striped pants,—they was all to the good,—but them skirts flappin' +around my knees was the limit.</p> + +<p>Think I had the face to spring that outfit on the folks at the boardin' +house? Never in a year! Why, some of them Lizzie girls rangin' the block +would have guyed me out of the borough. I just folds the thing inside +out over my arm, like it was some one's overcoat I was takin' around to +have a button shifted, and when I gets to the church I slides up into +the gallery and makes a quick change. Mr. Robert looks me over and says +no one would guess it was me.</p> + +<p>"I'm hopin' they don't," says I.</p> + +<p>But as soon as the carriages begun comin' and I gets busy callin' for +the seat checks, I forgets how I looks and stops huntin' for some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">92</a></span> place +to stow my hands. It was a cinch job. There was only a few lady butt-ins +that had strayed over from the shoppin' district and smelled out a free +show.</p> + +<p>"We're intimate friends of the bride," says a pair of 'em; "but we've +forgotten our tickets."</p> + +<p>"That's good, but musty. Butt out, please," says I.</p> + +<p>Chee! but I ain't used up so much politeness since I can remember! It +was wearin' them clothes did it, I guess.</p> + +<p>Well, I was gettin' to feel real gay, for most everyone that was due was +inside, and I hadn't made any breaks to speak of, and it was near time +for the Lady Mildred to be floatin' in, when I pipes off a tall, +husky-lookin' gent, with a funny black lid and an umbrella tucked under +one arm, gawpin' up at the sign on the church.</p> + +<p>"Tourist from Punk Hollow lookin' for the Flatiron Buildin'," says I to +myself; but the next minute he comes meanderin' up the steps, fishin' a +card out of his pocket. You can bet I plants myself in the door and +calls for credentials!</p> + +<p>But, say, he had the goods. There was the ticket, all right, with the +name wrote on it, and it didn't need but one squint at the pasteboard +for me to break into a cold<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">93</a></span> sweat. It wa'n't anybody else but Mr. +William Morgan!</p> + +<p>"Say," says I, as hoarse as a huckster, "are you Brother Bill?"</p> + +<p>"Why," says he, kind of surprised, but not half so stunned as I thought +he'd be,—"why, I suppose I am."</p> + +<p>You wouldn't have guessed it. Not that he didn't look the brother part; +for he did. He went Mildred two or three inches better in height, and he +had snappy black eyes and black hair like hers. The points that goes +with a striped suit and the lock step was missin', though. But how you +goin' to tell, in these times when our toniest fatwads is sittin' around +the mahogany votin' to raise the price of chewin' gum to-day, and +gettin' a free haircut to-morrow? There wa'n't any time for me to stand +there guessin' whether he'd been pardoned, or had slid down the rain +pipe. Somethin' had to be done, and done quick.</p> + +<p>"Dodge in here and wait a minute," says I. "There's some word been left +for you."</p> + +<p>With that I sneaks down the side aisle and into the little cloakroom, +where Mr. Robert was keepin' Benny's mind off'n what was comin' to him +by makin' him count the geranium leaves in the carpet.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Robert," says I, luggin' him off to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">94</a></span> one side, "you want to give up +predictin' the future. Bill's come!"</p> + +<p>"What Bill?" says he.</p> + +<p>"The one from the rock pile, Brother Bill," says I.</p> + +<p>"That's lovely!" says he.</p> + +<p>"It's all of that," says I.</p> + +<p>"I hope he's not wearing his uniform still," says Mr. Robert.</p> + +<p>"Not on the outside," says I. "He looks like he'd pinched a minister's +Monday suit somewhere. But it ain't the way he looks that's worryin' me; +it's what he's liable to do any minute to put the show on the blink."</p> + +<p>"That's so, Torchy," says he. "Can't we get him out of the way somehow?"</p> + +<p>"It's a tough proposition," says I; "but if you'll put on a sub for me +at the door, and give me leave to make any play that I happens to think +of, I'll tackle it."</p> + +<p>"Good!" says Mr. Robert. "And I'll make it worth a hundred to you to +keep him away from here until it's all over."</p> + +<p>"I'm on the job," says I.</p> + +<p>As I skips back I grabs my hat out from under a rear seat and makes +straight for Brother Bill. "Come on," says I. "She's waitin' for you +now. We've got just half an hour to do it in."</p> + +<p>Bill, he looks sort of jarred and reluctant;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">95</a></span> but I has him by the arm +and is chasin' him down the steps before he can ask any dippy questions. +First off I thought of runnin' him up the avenue until he's clean +winded; but I see by the way he strikes out that it would take more +lungs than I've got to do that.</p> + +<p>There was a lot of weddin' cabs and such waitin' round the corner, +though; so I steers him into the first one that has the apron up, jumps +in after him, shoves up the door in the roof, and sings out:</p> + +<p>"Beat it! This ain't any dream carnival you're hired for!"</p> + +<p>"What number?" says the bone thumper.</p> + +<p>For about two shakes I was up against it, and then the only place I +could think of was Benny's house; so I give him that, and off we goes.</p> + +<p>"But I say, young man," says Brother Bill, "I came on to go to the +wedding."</p> + +<p>"Sure," says I; "that'll be all right too. Didn't I tell you there was +some word left for you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," says he, "I believe you did. Also you said something about her +waiting——"</p> + +<p>"Right again," says I. "She'll be tickled to death to see you too."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but the wedding?" says he.</p> + +<p>"That'll be there when we get<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">96</a></span> back—maybe," says I. "You came on kind +of unexpected, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," says he. "I didn't think I could get away at first; but I managed +it."</p> + +<p>"How'd you get out?" says I. "Was it a clean quit, or a little +vacation?"</p> + +<p>"Why—er—why," says he,—"yes, it was a—er—little vacation, as you +say."</p> + +<p>"Chee!" thinks I. "The nerve of him! Wonder if he sawed the bars, or +sneaked out in a packin' case?" But, say, I couldn't put it to him +straight. When I gets these bashful fits on I ain't any use.</p> + +<p>"How long you been in?" says I.</p> + +<p>"In?" says he. "Oh, I see! About five years."</p> + +<p>"Honest?" says I.</p> + +<p>Then I had another modest spell that won't let me ask him whether he'd +been put away for givin' rebates, or grabbin' for graft. I knew it must +have been somethin' respectable like that. Anyone could see he wa'n't +one of your strong arms or till friskers.</p> + +<p>I was just wishin' I knew how to work the force pump like Aunt Laura, +when we pulls up at the horse block, and it was up to me to think of +some new move.</p> + +<p>"She's here, is she?" says Mr. William.</p> + +<p>"You bet!" says I, wondering who he thought I meant. And then I gets +that funny<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">97</a></span> feelin' I gen'rally has when I takes the high jump. "Come +on," says I. "We'll give her a surprise."</p> + +<p>It wa'n't anything else. I knew she'd be to home, 'cause I'd heard she +was too grouchy to go to the weddin' or have anything to do with it; so +when Marie let us in I throws a tall bluff and says for her to tell Aunt +Laura I've brought some one she wants to see very partic'lar.</p> + +<p>"Why," says Mr. Morgan, "there's been some mistake, hasn't there! I know +no such person. Why should she wish to see me?"</p> + +<p>"Sh-h-h-h!" says I. "Maybe she'll feed you frosted cake. It's one of her +tricks."</p> + +<p>She didn't, though. She looked about as smilin' as a dill pickle when +she showed up, and she opened the ball by askin' what I meant, bringin' +strangers there.</p> + +<p>"Well," says I, "you've been askin' a lot about him lately; so I thought +I'd lug him around. This is Brother Bill."</p> + +<p>"What!" says she, squealin' it out like I'd said the house was afire. +"Not the brother of that—that Morgan girl?"</p> + +<p>"Ask him," says I. "You're a star at that."</p> + +<p>Then I takes a peek at Bill. And say, I was almost sorry I'd done it. +For a party that'd just broke jail, he could stand the least I ever<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">98</a></span> +saw. He looks as mixed up and helpless as a lady that's took a seat in +the smokin' car by mistake. I'd have helped him out then if I could have +thought how. It was too late, though, and Aunt Laura was no quitter.</p> + +<p>"How long is it," says she, jerkin' her head back and throwin' a look +out of her narrow eyes that must have gone clear through him, "since you +got out of the State penitentiary?"</p> + +<p>"Why—why—er—er——" begins Brother Bill.</p> + +<p>Then he has the biggest stroke of luck that ever came his way; for Marie +pushes in with the silver plate and a card on it.</p> + +<p>"Thank goodness!" says Aunt Laura, lookin' at the card. "The very person +I need! Ask Dr. Wackhorn to step in here."</p> + +<p>I thought he must be a germ chaser; but it was just a minister, a solid, +prosperous lookin' old gent, with white billboards and a meat safe on +him like a ten-dollar Teddy bear. He looks at Brother Bill, and Bill +looks at him.</p> + +<p>"Why, my dear William!" sings out the Doc, rushin' over with the glad +hand out.</p> + +<p>In two minutes it's all over. Dr. Wackhorn has introduced Bill as his +ex-assistant, who's gone West and got himself a job as chaplain in a +State prison, and Aunt Laura loses her breath tryin' to apologize to +both of 'em at once. Think of that! We'd been playin' him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">99</a></span> for all kinds +of a crook, and here he was a sure enough minister!</p> + +<p>Well, I gets him back to the church just in time for the last curtain, +so he can see what a stunner Mildred was in her canopy-top outfit. He's +all right, Brother Bill is. Never gives me any call-down for shuntin' +him off the way I did and makin' him miss most of the show. As I says to +him afterward:</p> + +<p>"Bill," says I, "that was one on me. But we did throw the hook into Aunt +Laura some! What?"</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">100</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2><h3>KEEPING TABS ON PIDDIE</h3> +</div> + +<p>Say, I thought I knew Piddie. If anybody'd asked me to pick a party for +the Honest John act from among the crowd we got around the Corrugated +Trust here, I'd made J. Hemmingway Piddie my one best bet. He's been +with the concern ever since Old Hickory Ellins flim-flammed his partners +out of their share of the business and took out a New Jersey chartered +permit that allowed him to practice grand larceny.</p> + +<p>If Piddie hadn't been a pinhead, he'd had his name on the board of +directors years ago. But there ain't no use tryin' to make parlor +comp'ny out of kitchen help; so Piddie's just trailed along, bein' as +useful as he knew how, and workin' up from ten a week to one fifty a +month, just as satisfied as if he was gettin' his per cent. of the +profits.</p> + +<p>What he does around the shop wouldn't turn anyone gray-headed; but he +makes the most of it. He swells up more over orderin' a few office +supplies than Mr. Robert would about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">101</a></span> signin' a million-dollar contract, +and the way he keeps watch of the towels and soap and spring water you'd +think our stock was fallin' below par, 'stead of payin' nine per cent, +on common. Gen'rally Piddie don't handle anything but petty cash; but +once in awhile, when no one else is handy, they chuck something big his +way, and he never lets up until everyone knows all about it. You can +tell how chesty he feels, just by his strut.</p> + +<p>Well, there'd been a big rush on, and they was usin' Piddie more or less +frequent, so I was gettin' used to his makin' a noise like a balloon, +when one mornin' he come turkeyin' out to the brass gate and says to me:</p> + +<p>"Torchy, call up 0079 Broad and get the opening on Blitzen."</p> + +<p>"Sure," says I. "And if it touches seven-eighths don't you want to +unload a couple of thousand shares?"</p> + +<p>"When I have any further orders," says he, puffin' out his face, "you +will get them!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, slush!" says I. "Don't play so rough, Piddie."</p> + +<p>I was onto him, all right. I've seen these hot-air plungers before. They +follow up a stock for weeks, and buy and sell in six figures, and reckon +up how they've hit the market for great chunks—but it's all under their +lids. You can't spend pipe dreams, if you win; and if you lose,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">102</a></span> it +don't shrink the size of your really truly roll. It's almost as +satisfyin' as walkin by the back door of a bakery when you're hungry. +That kind of game is about Piddie's size, too. All it calls for is +plenty of imagination, and he's got that by the bale. I was kind of glad +to see him enjoyin' himself so innocent, and now and then I'd help along +the excitement.</p> + +<p>"Heard about how Morgan's tryin' to get hold of Blitzen?" I'd say, and +Piddie would prick up his ears like a fox-terrier sightin' a rat.</p> + +<p>"Who told you?" Piddie'd ask.</p> + +<p>"Why," I'd say, "I got it straight from a delicatessen man that lives on +the same block with a man that runs a hot dog cart in John-st. Don't +want anything closer'n that, do you!"</p> + +<p>Then Piddie'd look kind of foolish, and go off and call down some one +good and hard, just to relieve his feelin's.</p> + +<p>First thing I knew, though, Piddie was havin' star-chamber sessions with +a seedy-lookin' piker that wore an actor's overcoat and a brunette +collar that looked like it had been wished onto his neck about last +Thanksgivin'. They'd get together in a corner of the reception room and +whisper away for half an hour on a stretch. If it hadn't been Piddie, +I'd put it down for a hard-luck tale with a swift touch for a curtain; +but no one that ever took a second<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">103</a></span> look at Piddie would ever waste +their time tryin' a touch on him. So I guessed the gent was a bucketshop +tout who was tryin' to interest Piddie in some kind of a deal.</p> + +<p>Still, I couldn't get any picture of Piddie takin' a chance with real +money. It wa'n't until I seen him walkin' around stary-eyed one day, and +gettin' nervous by the minute, that I could believe he's really been +rung in. He was goin' through all the motions, though, of a man that's +shoved everything, win or lose, on the red, and it was a circus to keep +tabs on him. He makes a bluff at bein' awful busy with the billbook; but +he couldn't stay at the desk more'n three minutes at a spell. Inside of +an hour I counted four times that he washed his hands and six drinks of +water that he had.</p> + +<p>"You'll be damp enough to need wringin' out, if you keep that up," says +I.</p> + +<p>"Keep what up?" says he. Honest, he was so rattled he didn't know +whether he was usin' the roller towel or runnin' over the ticker tape. +Half an hour before lunchtime he skips out and leaves word with me that +maybe he'll be back late.</p> + +<p>"All right," says I. "If the boss calls for you I'll tell him he'll have +to shut down the shop until you blow in again."</p> + +<p>Maybe you've seen symptoms like that in a hired man. It gen'rally means +that there's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">104</a></span> somethin' doin' in ponies or margins, and that next payday +is goin' to seem a long ways off. If I'd been asked to give a guess, I +should have put it as about two hundred bucks that Piddie had thrown +into the market. Anyway, it wa'n't enough to knock the props out of +call-money quotations; so I was lettin' Piddie do all the worryin'.</p> + +<p>He didn't show back at twelve-thirty, nor at twelve-forty-five. Some one +else did, though. She was a nice little lady, one of the smooth-haired, +big-eyed kind, as soft talkin' and as gentle actin' as the heroine in +"No Weddin' Cake for Her'n," just before she gets to the weepy scenes. +You could see by the punky mill'nery and the last season's drygoods that +she'd just drifted in from Mortgagehurst, New Jersey. The little snoozer +she has by the hand was a cute one, though. When he gets a glimpse of my +sunset top piece he sings out:</p> + +<p>"O-o-o-o, mama! Burny, burn!"</p> + +<p>"Why, Hemmingway!" says she. "I am surprised. Naughty, naughty!"</p> + +<p>"Don't worry, lady," says I. "The kid's got it dead right—it's one of +them kind."</p> + +<p>Then I wets my finger and shows him how it'll go "S-z-z!" when I touch +it off. That gets a laugh out of little Hemmingway, and in a minute +we're all good friends.</p> + +<p>She's Mrs. Piddie, of course, and she's a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">105</a></span> brick. Say, how is it these +two-by-fours can pull out such good ones so often? Why, if she'd been +got up accordin' to this year's models, and could have thrown the front +she ought to, she'd have been fit for a first-tier box at the grand +op'ra.</p> + +<p>"Chee!" thinks I. "Did she pick Piddie in the dark?"</p> + +<p>She'd come in to drag him out shoppin' and hypnotize him into loosenin' +up. It was a case of gettin' things for little Hemmingway.</p> + +<p>"Me, I go have new s'oes, an' new coat wif pockets too," says he.</p> + +<p>Say, they wins me, kids like that do. There's some I ain't got any use +for, the kind brought up in hotels and boardin' houses that learn to +play to the gallery before they can feed themselves, and others I could +name; but clean, grinnin' youngsters, with big eyes that take in +everything, they're good to have around. And, little Hemmy was a star. I +got so int'rested showin' him things in the office that I clean forgot +about Piddie and what he was up to.</p> + +<p>"He will be back soon, won't he?" says Mrs. Piddie.</p> + +<p>Now if you give me time I can slick up an answer so it'll sound like the +truth and mean something else; but as an offhand liar I'm a frost. +Somehow I always has to swaller somethin' before I can push out a cold +dope. Course,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">106</a></span> I knew he'd got to be back before long; but I see right +off that this wa'n't any day for a fam'ly reunion. Piddle wa'n't goin' +to be any too sociable by dinner time that night, 'less'n he'd hit up +the bucketshop, which the chances was against. So it was my turn to make +a foxy play.</p> + +<p>"He's due here before long, that's a fact," says I, "but there's no +tellin'. You see, there's a big deal on, and Mr. Piddie's gone downtown, +and——"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" says Mrs. Piddle, her eyes shinin'. "Then he has some important +business engagement?"</p> + +<p>You couldn't help seein' how she had it framed up,—the whole Corrugated +Trust and half of Wall Street holdin' its breath while hubby, J. +Hemmingway Piddie, Esq., worked his giant intellect for the good of the +country.</p> + +<p>"That's it," says I. "I couldn't say pos'tive that he'd be as late as +four o'clock; but——"</p> + +<p>"Oh! then we'll not wait," says she, "Come, Hemmingway, we must go +home."</p> + +<p>"Don't I det my new s'oes?" says Hemmy.</p> + +<p>There was a proposition for you! The kid was runnin' true to form and +stickin' to the main line. No side issues for him! Pop might be a big +man, and all that; but his size didn't cut much ice alongside of the +new-shoes prospect.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">107</a></span> Things was beginnin' to look squally, and Mrs. +Piddie's mouth corners was saggin' some, when I has a thought.</p> + +<p>"Hold on," says I. "Maybe he's left a note or something for you."</p> + +<p>See what it is to have a little wad stowed away in the southwest corner +of your jeans? I slips through into the main office, gets one of the +typewriter girls to address an envelope to Mrs. Piddie, jams a sawbuck +into it, and comes out smilin'.</p> + +<p>"Maybe this'll do as well as Pop himself," says I. "Feels like it had +long green in it," and the last I heard of little Hemmy he was tellin' +the elevator man about the "new s'oes" that was comin' to him.</p> + +<p>"It's a fool way to lend out coin," thinks I; "but what's the diff? That +kid's got his hopes set on bein' shod to-day, and Piddie's bound to make +good sometime."</p> + +<p>Piddie didn't look it, though, when he drifts in about one-thirty. If +he'd had a load on his mind earlier in the day, he'd got somethin' more +now. Just sittin' at the desk doin' nothin made the dew come out on his +noble brow like it was the middle of August. He was too much of a wreck +to stand any joshin'; so I let him alone, not even tellin' him about the +fam'ly visit.</p> + +<p>The first thing I knows he comes over to me,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">108</a></span> his jaw set firmer'n I +ever see it shut before, and a kind of shifty look in his eyes. He hands +me a letter and a package.</p> + +<p>"Torchy," says he, "take these down to that address just as soon as you +can. You've got to go quick. Understand?"</p> + +<p>"Fourth speed, advanced spark, that's me!" says I, grabbin' my hat and +coat. "Free track for the Piddie special! Honk, honk!" and I jams him up +against the letterpress as I makes a rush for the door.</p> + +<p>When I gets into the subway I sizes up the stuff I'm carryin'. Well say, +it ain't often I gets real curious; but this was one of them times. I +started in by rollin' a pencil under the envelope flap while the gum was +moist. Not that I'd made up my mind to rubber; but just so's I could if +I took the notion. And, sure enough, I got the notion, or it got me.</p> + +<p>Chee! I near slid off the rattan seat when I reads that note. Guess I +must have sat there, starin' bug-eyed and lookin' batty, from 14th to +Wall. Do you know what that mush-head of a Piddie was at? He was givin' +an order to bolster up Blitzen by buyin' up to a hundred thousand +shares, and in the package was a bunch of gilt-edged securities to cover +the margins.</p> + +<p>Now wouldn't that jiggle the grapes on sister's new lid? Piddie, a +narrow-gauge,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">109</a></span> dime-pinchin' ink-slinger, doin' the bull act like he was +a sooty plute from Pittsburg! That's what comes of swallowin' the +get-rich-fast bug.</p> + +<p>Well, when I gets out at the Street I didn't have any programme planned. +First I strolls down to the number on the letter and takes a look at the +buildin'. That was enough. There was some good names on the hall +directory; but most of 'em was little, two-room, fly-by-night firms, +with a party 'phone for a private wire and a mail-order list bought +off'm patent medicine concerns. The people Piddie was doin' business +with was that kind.</p> + +<p>Next I takes a walk around into Broad-st., where the mounted cops keep +the big-wind bunch roped in so's they can't break loose and pinch the +doorknobs off the Subtreasury. The ear-muff brigade was lettin' +themselves out in fine style, tradin' in Ground Hog bonds, Hoboken gas, +Moonshine preferred, and a whole lot of other ten-cent shares, as +earnest as if they was under cover and biddin' on Standard Oil firsts.</p> + +<p>While I was lookin' 'em over, wonderin' what to do next, I spots Abey +Winowski on the fringe of the push. And say, it wa'n't so long ago that +Abey was wearin' sky-blue pants and a Postal shield, trottin' out with +messages from District Ten. But here he is, with a checked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">110</a></span> ulster and a +five-dollar hat, writin' figures on a pad.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Motzie!" says I. "How long since they lets the likes of you +inside the ropes?"</p> + +<p>"Hello, Torchy!" says he. "Got any orders?"</p> + +<p>"I'm lined with 'em," says I. "What's good?"</p> + +<p>"Blitzen," says he. "It's on the seesaw; but'll fetch fifty."</p> + +<p>"Ain't it a wildcat?" says I.</p> + +<p>"Just from the menagerie," says he. "Goin' to take a dollar flyer?"</p> + +<p>"Guess I'll see what my brokers has to say first," says I.</p> + +<p>With that I goes around to a little joint I knows of, where they has a +board for unlisted stocks, and I sets back and watches the curves +Blitzen was makin'. First she'd jump four or five points, and then she'd +settle back heavy. The Curb was playin' tag with it; that was all, so +far as I could see. Nice lot of Hungry Jakes to feed with +int'rest-bearin' securities!</p> + +<p>About fifteen minutes before the market closed I quit and moseyed along +uptown, just killin' time and tryin' to figure out what ought to be +done. Course, I didn't have any idea of playin' private detective and +showin' Piddie up to Mr. Robert,—that's out of my line,—but I didn't +like the scheme of just chuckin' the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">111</a></span> bonds back at him and let him get +away with any bluff about my interferin' with something I didn't +understand at all. Besides, if the returns showed that he'd have won on +the deal, what was to hinder his tryin' the same trick again next time +he got the chance? That wouldn't been a fair shake for the firm.</p> + +<p>Say, I worked my thinker overtime that trip; but I couldn't dig up a +thing that was worth savin' from the scrap basket, and when I strolled +into the office just about closin' time I wa'n't any nearer to knowin' +what to do than when I started.</p> + +<p>Most everyone had left when I pushes through the gate and takes a peek +into Piddie's office. He was there. And, say, for a speakin' likeness of +a dropped egg that's hit the floor instead of the toast, he was it! He's +slumped all over the desk, with his head in his hands, and his hair all +mussed up, and his shoulders lopped. I always suspicioned he was built +out with pneumatic pads, and blew himself up in the mornin' before he +buttoned on the four-inch collar that kept his chin up; but I did'nt +guess he had a rubber backbone. It was a case of fush with Piddie. He +was all in. What I could see of his face had about as much color to it +as a sheet of blottin' paper.</p> + +<p>Layin' on the floor was a map of the whole disaster. It was a Wall +Street extra, with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">112</a></span> scarehead story of how Blitzen had kept 'em +guessin' all day and then, in the last quarter of an hour of tradin', +had gone bumpin' the bumps from twenty-eight down to almost nothin' at +all. I didn't stop to read the whole thing; but I read enough to find +out that Blitzen had gone soarin' on a false alarm, and that when the +facts was give out right the balloon had took fire. And there was +Piddie, still fallin'!</p> + +<p>"Hello," says I. "You look like a boned ham that's in need of the acid +bath and sawdust stuffin'. What's queered you so sudden?"</p> + +<p>He jumps and tries to pull himself together when he first hears me; but +after he finds who it is he goes to pieces again and flops back in the +chair groanin'.</p> + +<p>"Is it new mown hay of the lungs, or too many griddle cakes on the +stomach?" says I.</p> + +<p>But he only gasps and groans some more. Maybe I should of felt sorry for +him; but, knowin' the sort of sprung kneed near crook he was, I didn't. +He was scared mostly, and he was doin' all the sympathizin' for himself +that was needed. All of a sudden he braces up and looks at his watch.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you didn't get there in time?" says he.</p> + +<p>"With the letter and package?" says I. "Watcher take me for? Think I got +mucilage on my shoes? I was there on time, all right."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">113</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, mercy!" says he. "Torchy, I'm a ruined man."</p> + +<p>"You look it," says I; "but cheer up. You never was much account anyway; +so there's no great harm done."</p> + +<p>Then he begins to blubber, and leak brine, and take on like a woman with +a sick headache. "It wasn't my fault," says he. "I was led into it. +Torchy, tell them I was led into it! You'll believe that, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Cert," says I. "I'll make affidavit I seen 'em snap the ring in your +nose. But what's it all about?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's something awful that's happened to me," he wails. "It's too +terrible to talk about. You'll know to-morrow. I sha'n't be alive then, +Torchy."</p> + +<p>"Ain't swallowed a buttonhook, have you?" says I.</p> + +<p>Next he begins throwin' a fit about what's goin' to become of the missus +and the kid. Say, I've been in at two or three acts like this before, +and I gen'rally notice that at about such a stage they play that card, +the wife and kid. Your real tough citizen don't, nor your real +gent,—they shuts their mouths and takes what's comin' to 'em,—but Mr. +Weakback has a sudden rush of mem'ry about the folks at home, and +squeals like a pup with his tail shut in the door.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">114</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ah, say," says I, "cut it out! You ought to move up to Harlem and learn +to pound the pipes. You're a healthy plunger, you are, sneakin' bonds +out of the safe to stack up against a crooked game, and then playin' the +baby act when you lose out! Come now, ain't that the awful thing that's +happened to you?"</p> + +<p>He couldn't have opened up freer if he'd been put through the third +degree. I gets the story of his life then, with a handkerchief +accomp'niment,—all about the house he's tryin' to buy through the +buildin' loan, and the second-hand bubble he wants to splurge on 'cause +the neighbors have got 'em, and how he was tipped off to this sure thing +in Blitzen by a party that had always been a friend of his but couldn't +get hold of the stuff to turn the trick himself. He put in all the fine +points, even to the way he came to have a chance at the safe.</p> + +<p>"If I could only put them back!" says he, sighin'.</p> + +<p>"What then?" says I. "Next time I s'pose you'd swipe the whole series, +wouldn't you?"</p> + +<p>If you could have heard him tell how good he'd be you'd think practicin' +a little crooked work now and then was the only sure way to learn how to +keep straight.</p> + +<p>"Piddie," says I, "I don't want to hurt your feelin's, but you act to me +like a weak sister.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">115</a></span> If I was to do what the case calls for, this thing +ought to go to the boss."</p> + +<p>"Please don't, Torchy! Please don't!" says he, scrabblin' down on his +hands and knees.</p> + +<p>"Nix on that!" says I. "This is no carpet-layin' bee. I'm no squealer, +anyway; besides, I had a little interview with Mrs. Piddie and the kid +this noon, and after seein' them I can't rub it in like you deserve. +What I've seen and heard I'm goin' to forget. Now sit up straight while +I break the news to you gentle. I went down there to-day, just as you +told me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," he groans, squirmin'.</p> + +<p>"But I didn't like the looks of the joint; so I didn't dump the bonds. +There they are. Now see they get back where you found 'em!"</p> + +<p>Talk about your hallelujah praise meetin's! Piddie was havin' one, all +by himself—when the inside door opens and Mr. Roberts steps out of his +office.</p> + +<p>"I'll take care of those bonds, Mr. Piddie," says he.</p> + +<p>Chee! what a stunner! Mr. Robert had been in there all the time, writin' +private letters, and had took in the whole business.</p> + +<p>Did he give Piddie the fire on the spot? Nah! Mr. Robert carries around +a frigid portico; but he's got a warm spot inside. He says he's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">116</a></span> mighty +sorry to hear how near Piddie'd come to goin' wrong; but he's glad it +turned out the way it did, and if Piddie'll say how much they rung him +in for on Blitzen he'll be happy to make good right there.</p> + +<p>And how much do you guess? A pair of double X's! He'd worried himself +near sick, worked himself up desp'rate, and had finished by doin' +something that stood to get him put away for ten or fifteen years—all +for forty bucks!</p> + +<p>"Piddie," says I, "for a tinhorn, you're a wonder! But, say, when you +get home to-night tell that kid of yours I want to see them new shoes of +his before he gets the toes all stubbed out."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">117</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2><h3>A WHIRL WITH KAZEDKY</h3> +</div> + +<p>Chee! W'atcher think? I ain't read an "Old Sleut'" for more'n a week, +and there's two murder myst'ries runnin' in the sportin' extras that I'm +way behind on. You wouldn't guess it in a month, but I'm takin' a fall +out of the knowledge game. Mr. Mallory says I'm part in the sixt' grade +and part in the eight'.</p> + +<p>"I believe it," says I; "my nut feels that way."</p> + +<p>Honest, I'm stowin' away so much that I never knew before that I'm +thinkin' of wearin' a leather strap around my head, same's these strong +boys wears 'em on their wrists.</p> + +<p>"Ah! w'at's the use?" says I. "Nobody's ever goin' to ask me what's four +per cent of thoity thousand plunks, an' if I had that much I wouldn't +farm it out for less'n six, anyway. And I don't see where this De Soto +comes in. Sounds like he might have played first base for the Beanies; +but he's been dead too long for that. What odds does it make if I don't +know the capital of Nevada? I ain't lookin' for no divorce, am I?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">118</a></span></p> + +<p>But there's no shakin' Mallory off. He's dug up a lot of kid school +books for me, and I got 'em stowed away in the desk here, like this was +P. S. 46, 'stead of the front office of the Corrugated Trust. And when I +ain't takin' cards into the main squeezes, or answerin' fool questions +over the 'phone, or chasin' out on errands for Piddie, I'm swallowin' +chunks of information about the times when G. Wash. was buildin' forts +in Harlem and makin' good for a continuous in front of the Subtreasury.</p> + +<p>Course, it's a clean waste of time. Suppose I gets the run next week, +could I win another head office boy job by spielin' off a mess of guff +about a lot of dead ones? Nit, never! But Mallory's got the bug that +it'll all come in handy to me sometime, and I'm doin' it just to keep +him satisfied. We get together most every night in his room, and I has +to cough up what I've got next to durin' the day. And say, when I've +been soldierin', and try to run in a stiff bluff instead of the real +goods, he looks as disappointed as if I'd done something real low down. +So gen'rally I hits up the books when there's nothin' else doin'.</p> + +<p>Mr. Robert's on. He comes in one mornin' and pipes off the 'rithmetic. +"What's this, Torchy?" says he. "Studying?"</p> + +<p>"Yep," says I. "When I went through Columbia College there wa'n't +anybody there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">119</a></span> but the janitor; so I'm takin' a postprandial whirl at +this number dope, and it's fierce."</p> + +<p>"Whose idea?" says he.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Mallory's," says I. "But I've laid it out flat to him that I draws +the line at Greek. I'd never want to talk like them 23d-st. flower +peddlers, not in a thousand years!"</p> + +<p>Didn't tell you, did I, about Mallory's doin' the skyrocket act? After +Mr. Robert gets next to the fact that Mallory's a two seasons' old +football hero from his old college he yanks him out of that +twelve-dollar-a-week filin' job and makes him a salaried gent, inside of +two days.</p> + +<p>"Which is something I owe chiefly to you, Torchy," says Mallory.</p> + +<p>"Honk, honk!" says I. "Them's the kind of ideas that will get you run in +for reckless thinkin'. You was winnin' all that when you did that sprint +for goal your friend Dicky was tellin' about the other day. Now all you +got to do is get up on your toes and make one or two touchdowns for old +Corrugated."</p> + +<p>"I know," says he; "but I'm afraid that in this game I'm outclassed."</p> + +<p>Honest, he was scared stiff; but he didn't let anyone but me see it. +Even a little thing like goin' down to Wall Street and lookin' up some +securities gets him rattled. He hadn't been gone more'n an' hour 'fore +he calls me up on the 'phone and says some broker's clerk has<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">120</a></span> asked him +if our concern don't want to bid on P. O. privileges at seven-eighths. +"What are P. O. privileges?" says Mallory.</p> + +<p>"Oh, tush!" says I. "And you let 'em hand you such a burry one? P. O. +privileges is the right to lick stamps at the gen'ral post-office, and +it's a gag them curb shysters has wore to a frazzle. You go back and +tell that fresh paper-chewer we're only buyin' options on July snow +removals preferred."</p> + +<p>That's what comes of foolin' around at college. Mallory comes back +lookin' like some one had sold him a billboard seat to a free window +show.</p> + +<p>But that was nothin' to the down-and-out slump I found him in next +night, when I goes around for my writin' lesson and so on.</p> + +<p>"Is it the <i>spino comeandgetus</i>," says I, "or has Miss Tuttifrutti sent +back your Christmas card?"</p> + +<p>"It's worse than either," says he, with his chin on the top button of +his vest. "I guess I'm what you would call a false alarm, Torchy. I've +been tried out and haven't made good."</p> + +<p>"G'wan!" says I. "Everyone gets a lemon now and then. Some tries to +swaller it whole, and chokes to death; others mixes 'em up with eggs and +things, and knocks out a pie, with meringue on top. Draw us a map of how +you fell off the scaffold."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">121</a></span></p> + +<p>Well, I jollied the hard luck tale out of him. It was a case of sendin' +a boy with a pushcart to bring home a grand piano. The Old Man had done +it. He's kind of sore on the way Mr. Robert lugged Mallory in by the +hair, 'cause I heard him growlin' somethin' about makin' a kindergarten +out of the Corrugated; so he springs this on him. He calls for Mallory +and tells him there's a Russian gent down to the Waldorf that's come +over to place a big Gover'ment contract.</p> + +<p>"We've got to have a slice of that," says he. "Just you run down and get +it for us." Like that, offhand, as if it was somethin' you could do +anytime between lunch and one-thirty.</p> + +<p>Near as I could make out, Mallory goes for it in his polite, standoff, +after-you way, and the closest he gets to Russky is a minute with a +cocky secretary that says his Excellency is very sorry, but he'll be too +busy to see him this trip—maybe next time, about 1912, he'll have an +hour off.</p> + +<p>"And then you backs up the alley?" says I.</p> + +<p>"There was nothing else for me to do," says Mallory. "He went off +without giving me another chance."</p> + +<p>"Say," says I, "if I had all your parlor manners, I'd organize an +English holdin' comp'ny for 'em, so's not to be jacked up for bein' a +monopoly. Why didn't you give him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">122</a></span> the low tackle and sit on his head +until he promised to behave? Was that the only try you made?"</p> + +<p>"No, I sent up my card twice after that," says he, "and it came back. So +I've flunked. I think I'd better go down in the morning and resign."</p> + +<p>Now wouldn't that rust you?</p> + +<p>"Then here goes the books," says I, chuckin' 'em into the corner. "If +doin' the knowledge stunt leaves you with a backbone like a piece of +boiled spaghetti, I'm through."</p> + +<p>That makes Mallory sit up as if I'd jabbed him with a pin. "Do I seem +that way to you?" says he.</p> + +<p>"You don't think you're givin' any weight-liftin' exhibition, do you?" +says I.</p> + +<p>He lets that trickle through for a minute or so, and then he comes back +to life. "Torchy," says he, "you're right. I'm acting like a quitter. +But I don't mean to let go just yet. Hanged if I don't try to see that +man to-night, now, as quick as I can get down there! He's got to see me, +by Jove!"</p> + +<p>"There's more sense to that than anything else you've said in a week," +says I. "Wish I could be there to hold your hat."</p> + +<p>"Why not?" says he. "Come on. I may need fresh inspiration."</p> + +<p>"Whatever I gives you'll be fresh, all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">123</a></span> right," says I; "but if I was +you, and was goin' to butt into any Fifth-ave. hotel along about +dinner-time, I'd wear the regalia. Yours ain't in on a ticket, is it?"</p> + +<p>It wa'n't. Mallory had to go clear to the bottom of the trunk after it; +but when he'd shook out the wrinkles and got himself inside the view was +worth while. After he's blown up his op'ra hat and got out his stick you +couldn't tell him from a three times winner.</p> + +<p>"Chee!" says I. "You've got Silent Smith tied to a post. If you acts +like you look, you don't need me."</p> + +<p>He wouldn't have it that way, though. I'd got to go along and be ready +to give him any points I thought of. We goes in a cab, too, in over the +rubber mats to the carriage door, just like we'd come to hire the royal +suite.</p> + +<p>"The Baron Kazedky," says Mallory, shovin' his card across at the near +plute behind the desk.</p> + +<p>Then the cold wave begun comin' our way. Mister Baron was out. Nobody +knew where he'd gone. He hadn't left any word. And he didn't receive +callers after four P.M., anyway. Mallory was gettin' his breath after +stoppin' them body blows, when I pushes in.</p> + +<p>"Say, Sir Wally," says I, leanin' over towards the clerk and speakin' +confidential, "lemme give you somethin' from the inside.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">124</a></span> If Kazedky +misses seein' Mr. Mallory to-night, you'll be called up to-morrow to +hear some Russian language that'll take all the crimp out of that Robert +Mantell bang of yours. Now ring up one of them bench-warmers and show us +the Baron!"</p> + +<p>But, say, you might's well try bluffin' your way through the fire lines +on a brass trunk check, "You'll find the manager's office two doors to +the left, gentlemen," says he.</p> + +<p>"Much obliged for nothin'," says I.</p> + +<p>Course, there wa'n't any use registerin' a kick. Orders is orders, and +we was on the wrong side of the fence. Mallory and I takes a turn +through the corridors and past the main dinin'-room, where they keeps an +orchestra playin' so's the got-rich-quick folks won't hear each other +eat their soup.</p> + +<p>We was tryin' to think up a new move. I was for goin' out somewhere and +callin' for the Baron over the 'phone; but Mallory's got his jaw set now +and says he don't mean to leave until he has some kind of satisfaction. +He's kind of slow takin' hold; but when he gets his teeth in he's a +stayer.</p> + +<p>We knocks around half an hour, and nothin' happens. Then, just as we was +pushin' through the mob into the Palm Room I runs into Whitey Buck. You +know about Whitey, don't you? Well, you've seen his name printed across +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">125</a></span> top of the sportin' page that he runs. And say, Whitey's the smooth +boy, all right! Him and me used to do some great old joshin' when I was +on the Sunday editor's door.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Whitey!" says I. "Who you been workin' for a swell feed now?"</p> + +<p>"That you, Torchy?" says he. "Why, I took your head for an exit light. +How's tricks?"</p> + +<p>"On the blink," says I. "We're up against a freeze out, Mr. Mallory and +me. You know Mallory, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"What, Skid Mallory?" says he, takin' another look. "What a pipe! Why, +say, old man, I want you the worst way. Got to hash up a full-page +sympose knockin' reformed football, and if you'll take off a +thousand-word opinion I'll blow you to anything on the bill of fare. +Come on in here to a table while we chew it over. Torchy, grab a garçon. +Sizzlin' sisters! but I'm glad to root you out, Skid!"</p> + +<p>He was all of that; but it didn't mean anything more'n that Whitey sees +an easy column comin' his way.</p> + +<p>Mr. Mallory wa'n't so glad. "Sorry," says he, "but whatever football +reputation I ever had I'm trying to live down."</p> + +<p>"What!" says Whitey. "Trying to make folks forget the nerviest +quarterback that ever pranced down the turf with eleven men after<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">126</a></span> him? +Don't you do it. Besides, you can't. Why, that run of yours through the +Reds has been immortalized in a whole library of kid story books, and +they're still grinding 'em out!"</p> + +<p>Mallory turns the color of the candleshades and shakes his head. "You +print any such rot as that about me," says he, "and I'll come down and +wreck the office. I'm out of all that now, and into something that has +opened my eyes to what sort of useless individual I am. Behold, Whitey, +one of the unfit!"</p> + +<p>Then Whitey wants to know all about it.</p> + +<p>"It's nothing much," says Mallory, "only I've been sent out to do +business with a Russian Baron, and I'm such a chump I can't even get +within speaking distance of him."</p> + +<p>"What Baron?" says Whitey. "Not Kazedky?"</p> + +<p>"That's the identical one," says Mallory. "Don't happen to know him, do +you?"</p> + +<p>"I sure do," says Whitey. "Didn't he and I have a heart to heart session +when that sporty Russian Prince was over here and got himself pinched at +a prizefight? Kazedky was secretary of the legation then, and it was +through me he got the story muffled."</p> + +<p>"Wish you could find out where he is now," says Mallory.</p> + +<p>"Don't have to," says Whitey; "I know.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">127</a></span> He's up in private dining-room +No. 9. Been captured by a gang of Chamber of Commerce men, who are +feeding him ruddy duck and terrapin and ten-dollar champagne. He's got a +lot of steel contracts up his sleeve, you know, and——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," says Mallory; "but how can I get to see him?"</p> + +<p>"Who are you with?" says Whitey.</p> + +<p>"Corrugated Trust," says Mallory.</p> + +<p>"Wow!" says Whitey, them skim-milk eyes of his gettin' big. "They +wouldn't let you within a mile of him if they knew. But say, suppose I +could lug him outside, would I get that football story?"</p> + +<p>"You would," says Mallory.</p> + +<p>"By to-morrow noon?" says he.</p> + +<p>"Before morning, if you'll stay at the office until I get through here," +says Mallory.</p> + +<p>"Good!" says Whitey. "Come on! I'll snake him out of there if I have to +drag him by the collar. But he's a fussy old freak, and I don't +guarantee he'll stay more than a minute."</p> + +<p>"That's enough," says Mallory. "He can talk French, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with English?" says Whitey. "Now let's see what kind +of hot air I'll give him."</p> + +<p>Whitey didn't say what it was he thinks up;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">128</a></span> but he was grinnin' all +over his face when he leaves us outside of No. 9 and goes in where the +corks was poppin'. It must have been a happy thought, though; for it +wa'n't long before he comes out, towin' a dried-up little old runt with +a full set of face lambrequins and a gold dog license hung round his +neck from a red ribbon. He had his napkin in one hand and half a dinner +roll in the other; so it didn't look like he meant to make any long +stop. He was actin' kind of dazed, too, like he hadn't got somethin' +clear in his mind, and he hung back as if he was expectin' some one to +hand out a bomb. But Whitey rushes him right up to Mallory.</p> + +<p>"Here's the chap, Baron!" says he. "I couldn't let you go back to Russia +without shaking hands with the greatest quarterback America ever +produced. Mr. Mallory, Baron Kazedky," and then he winks at Mallory, +much as to say, "Now jump in!"</p> + +<p>And say, Mallory was Johnny on the spot. He grabs Kazedky's flipper like +it was a life preserver.</p> + +<p>"I—I—really, gentlemen, there's some mistake," says the Baron. "A +quarter what, did you say?"</p> + +<p>"Oh," says Mallory, "that's some of Mr. Buck's tomfoolery—football +term, you know."</p> + +<p>"But I am not interested in football," says<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">129</a></span> the Baron, tryin' to back +towards the door, "not in the least."</p> + +<p>"Me either," says Mallory, gettin' a new grip on him. "What I want to +talk to you about is steel. Now, I represent the Corrugated Trust, and +we——"</p> + +<p>Well say, the old man himself couldn't have reeled it off better'n +Mallory. Why, he had it as letter perfect as a panhandler does his tale +about bein' in the hospital six weeks and havin' four hungry kids at +home. I only hears the start of it; for as soon as he got well under way +Mallory starts for the other end of the corridor, skatin' the little old +Baron along with him like he was a Third-ave. clothing store dummy that +was bein' hauled in at closin'-up time.</p> + +<p>Whitey didn't even wait for the overture. The minute he hands Kazedky +over he fades towards the elevator. There's nothin' for me to do but +wait; so I picks out a red velvet chair and camps down on it to watch +the promenade. That's what it was, too; for Mallory acts like he'd +forgot everything he ever knew except that he's got to talk steel into +the Baron. I guess it was steel he was talkin'! Every time he passes me +I hear him ringin' in Corrugated, and drop forged, and a lot of things +like that.</p> + +<p>Mallory has a right-arm hook on Kazedky<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">130</a></span> and is makin' motions with his +left hand. Bein' so tall, he has to lean over to pump his speech into +the old fellow's ear; but every now and then he gets excited and, 'stead +of bendin' himself, he lifts the Baron clear off his feet.</p> + +<p>About the third lap some of the gents from the private dinin'-room pokes +their heads out to see what's happened to the guest of the evenin'. They +saw, all right! They must have been suspicious, too; for they were +lookin' anxious, and begun signaling him to break away.</p> + +<p>The Baron didn't have no time for watchin' signals just then. He was +busy tryin' to keep his feet on the floor. First I knew there was a +whole gang at the door watchin' 'em, and they was talkin' over makin' a +rush for the Baron and rescuin' him, I guess, when Mallory leans him up +against the wall, hauls out a pad and a fountain pen, and hands the +things to Kazedky. The Baron drapes bis napkin over one arm, stuffs the +piece of roll into his mouth, and scribbles off somethin'.</p> + +<p>When he's done that Mallory pockets the pad, leads the Baron back to his +friends, shakes hands with him, motions to me, and pikes for the +elevator. The last glimpse I has of Kazedky, he's bein' pulled into the +private dinin'-room, with that half a roll stickin' out of his face like +a bung in a beer keg.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">131</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, Torchy," says Mallory to me, as the car starts down, "I got it!"</p> + +<p>"Got what!" says I.</p> + +<p>"Why, the contract," says he.</p> + +<p>"Chee!" says I. "Is that all? I thought you was pullin' one of his back +teeth."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">132</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2><h3>DOWN THE BUMPS WITH CLIFFY</h3> +</div> + +<p>Say, if you read in the papers to-morrow about how the Chicago Limited +was run on a siding and a riot call wired back to the nearest Chief of +Police, you needn't do any guessin' as to what's happened. It'll be a +cinch that Clifford's gettin' in his fine work; for the last I saw of +him he was headed West, and where he is there's trouble.</p> + +<p>But you mustn't tear off the notion that Clifford's a Mr. Lush, that +goes and gets himself all lit up like a birthday cake and then begins to +mix it. That ain't his line. He's one of the camel brand. The nearest he +ever gets to red liquor is when he takes bottled grape juice for a +spring tonic; but for all that he can keep the cops busier'n any thirsty +man I ever saw.</p> + +<p>First glimpse I gets of him was when I looks up from the desk and sees +him tryin' to find a break in the brass rail. And say, there wa'n't any +doubt about his havin' come in from beyond where they make up the milk +trains. Not that he wears any R. Glue costume. From the nose pinchers, +white tie, and black cutaway I might<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">133</a></span> have sized him up as a cross +between a travelin' corn doctor and a returned missionary; but the ear +muffs and the umbrella and the black felt lid with the four-inch brim +put him in the tourist class. He was one of your skimpy, loose-jointed +parties, with a turkey neck that had a lump in front and wa'n't on good +terms with the back of his coat collar. Two of his front teeth was set +on a bias, givin' him one of these squirrel mouths that keeps you +thinkin' he's just goin' to bite into an apple.</p> + +<p>I watched him a minute or so without sayin' anything, while he was +pawin' around for the gate sort of absent minded, and when I thinks it's +about time to wake him up I sings out:</p> + +<p>"Say, Profess, you're on the right side of the fence now; let it go at +that."</p> + +<p>"Ah—er—I beg pardon," says he.</p> + +<p>"Well," says I, "that's a good start."</p> + +<p>"I—er—I beg——" says he.</p> + +<p>"You've covered that ground," says I. "Take a new lead."</p> + +<p>That seems to rattle him more'n ever. He hangs his umbrella over one +arm, peels off a brown woolen mitt, and fishes a card out of his inside +pocket. "This is the—ah—Corrugated Trust Building, is it not?" says +he.</p> + +<p>"It is, yes," says I; "but the place where you cash in your scalper's +book ticket is down on the third floor."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">134</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh!" says he. "Thank you very much," and he starts to trot out. He has +his hand on the knob, when a new thought comes to him. He tiptoes back +to the gate, pries off one of the ear muffs, and leans over real +confidential. "I didn't quite understand," says he. "Did you say Cousin +Robert's was the third door?"</p> + +<p>"Chee!" says I. "Willie, take off the other one, so you can get a good +healthy circulation through the belfry."</p> + +<p>The words seemed to daze him some; but he tumbled to my motions and +unstoppered his south ear.</p> + +<p>"Now," says I, "what's this about your Cousin Bob? Where'd you lose +him?"</p> + +<p>Watcher think, though? I gets it out of him that he's come all the way +from Bubble Creek, Michigan, and is lookin' for Mr. Robert Ellins. With +that I lets him through, plants him in a chair, and goes in to the boss.</p> + +<p>"Say," says I to Mr. Robert, "there's a guy, outside that's just floated +in from the breakfast food belt and is callin' for Cousin Robert. Here's +his card."</p> + +<p>"Why, that must be Clifford!" says he.</p> + +<p>"Then it's true, is it, the cousin business?" says I.</p> + +<p>"Certainly it is, Torchy," says he. "Why not?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">135</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, nothin'," says I. "I wouldn't have thought it, though."</p> + +<p>"It isn't at all necessary," says Mr. Robert. "Bring him in at once."</p> + +<p>"I guess I can spare him," says I. Then I goes back and taps Cousin +Clifford on the shoulder. "Cliffy," says I, "you're subp@oelig;ned. Push +through two doors and then make yourself right to home."</p> + +<p>Course anyone's liable to have a freak cousin or so knockin' round in +the background, and I s'pose it was a star play of Mr. Robert's, givin' +the glad hand to this one; but if I'd found Clifford hangin' on my +fam'ly tree I'd have felt like gettin' out the prunin' saw.</p> + +<p>Maybe Mr. Robert was a little miffy because I hadn't been a mind reader +and played Clifford for a favorite from the start. Anyway, he jumps +right in to feature him, lugs him off to the club for lunch, and does +the honors joyous, just as though this was something he'd been lookin' +forward to for months.</p> + +<p>I was beginnin' to think I'd made a wrong guess on Clifford, and the +awful thought that maybe for once I'd talked too gay was just tricklin' +through my thatch, when we gets our first bulletin. Cliffy was due back +to the office about four-thirty, havin' gone off by his lonesome after +lunch; but at a quarter of five he don't show up. It was near closin' +time when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">136</a></span> Mr. Robert gets a 'phone call, and by the worried look I knew +something was up.</p> + +<p>"Yes," says he, "this is Robert Ellins. Yes, I know such a person. +That's right—Clifford. He's my cousin. No, is that so? Why, there must +be some mistake. Oh, there must be! I'll come up and explain. Yes, I'll +sign the bail bond."</p> + +<p>He didn't have a word to say when he turns around and catches me +grinnin'; but grabs his hat and coat and pikes for the green lights.</p> + +<p>There wa'n't any call for me to do any rubberin' next day, or ask any +questions. It was all in the mornin' papers: how a batty gent who looked +like a disguised second story worker had collected a crowd and blocked +traffic on Fifth Avenue by standin' on the curb in front of one of the +Vanderbilt houses and drawin' plans of it on a pad.</p> + +<p>Course, he got run in as a suspect, and I guess Mr. Robert had his +troubles showin' the desk sergeant that Clifford wa'n't a Western crook +who was layin' pipes for a little jimmy work. Cliffy's architect tale +wouldn't have got him off in a month, and if it hadn't been that Mr. +Robert taps the front of his head they'd had Clifford down to +Mulberry-st. and put his thumb print in the collection.</p> + +<p>He was givin' it to 'em straight, though. Architectin' was what Cliffy +was aimin' at.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">137</a></span> He'd been studying that sort of thing out in Michigan, +and now he was makin' a tour to see how it was done in other places, +meanin' to polish off with a few months abroad. Then, after he'd got +himself well soaked in ideas, maybe he'd go back to Bubble Creek, rent +an office over the bank, and begin drawin' front elevations of iron +foundries and double tenements.</p> + +<p>That's what comes of havin' rich aunts and uncles in the fam'ly, and +duckin' real work while you wait for notice from the Surrogate to come +on and take your share. It wa'n't a case of hustle with Clifford. I +suspicioned that his bein' an architect was more or less of a fad; but +he was makin' the most of it, there was no discountin' that. He'd laid +out a week to put in seein' how New York was built, high spots and low, +and he went at it like he was workin' by the piece.</p> + +<p>Now, say, there ain't no special harm in goin' around town gawpin' at +lib'ries and office buildin's and churches. 'Most anyone could have done +it without bumpin' into trouble; but not Cliffy. It was wonderful how he +dug up ructions—and him the mildest lookin' four-eyed gent ever let +loose. And green! Say, what sort of a flag station is Bubble Creek, +anyway?</p> + +<p>Askin' fool questions was Cliffy's specialty. You see, he'd made out a +list of buildin's he thought he wanted to take a look at; but he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">138</a></span> hadn't +stopped to put down the street numbers or anything. And when he wants +information does he hunt up a directory or a cop? Oh, no! He holds up +anyone that's handy, from a white wings dodgin' trucks in the middle of +Madison Square, to a Wall Street broker rushin' from 'Change out to a +directors' meetin'. He seems to think anybody he meets knows all about +New York, and has time to take him by the hand and lead him right where +he wants to go, whether it's the new Custom House down town, or Grant's +Tomb up on the drive. Throw downs don't discourage him any, either. Two +minutes after he's been told to go chase himself he'll butt right in +somewhere else and call for directions.</p> + +<p>The worst of it was that he couldn't remember what he was told for +more'n three minutes on a stretch. We found out these little tricks of +Clifford's after he'd been makin' the office his headquarters for a +couple of days.</p> + +<p>First mornin' we started him out early for the Battery, to size up the +Bowling Green Buildin' and the Aquarium. About noon he limps in with his +hat all dirt and ashes up and down his back. From the description he +gives we figure out that he's been somewhere up on Washington Heights +and has got into an argument with a janitor that didn't like being rung +up from the basement and asked how far it was to Whitehall-st.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">139</a></span></p> + +<p>Well, we fixes him up, writes out all the partic'lars of his route on a +card, and gives him a fresh send-off. It wa'n't more'n half an hour +afterwards that I was out on an errand, and as I cut through 22d-st. +back of the Flatiron I sees a crowd. Course, I pushes in to find out +what was holdin' up all the carriages and bubbles that has to switch +through there goin' north. Somehow I had a feelin' that it might be +Clifford. And it was!</p> + +<p>He was in the middle of the ring, hoppin' around lively and wavin' that +umbrella of his like a sword. The other party was the pilot of a hansom +cab that had climbed down off his perch and was layin' on with his whip.</p> + +<p>I hated to disturb that muss; for I had an idea Cliffy was gettin' about +what was comin' to him, and the crowd was enjoyin' it to the limit. But +I see a couple of traffic cops comin' over from Broadway; so I breaks +through, grabs Clifford by the arm, and chases him down the avenue, +breathin' some hard but not much hurt.</p> + +<p>"Chee!" says I, "but you're a wonder! Was you tryin' to buy an +eight-mile cab ride for a quarter?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no," says he. "I merely stopped the man to ask him where the +nearest subway station was, and before I knew it he became angry. I'm +sure I didn't know——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">140</a></span></p> + +<p>"That's the trouble with you, Cliffy," says I, "and if you don't get +over it you'll be hurt bad. Where's that card we made out for you?"</p> + +<p>"I—I must have lost that," says he.</p> + +<p>"What you need is a guide and an accident policy," says I. "Better let +me tow you back to the office, and you can talk it over with Mr. +Robert."</p> + +<p>He was willin'. He'd had enough for one day, anyhow.</p> + +<p>By mornin' Mr. Robert has lost some of his joy over Cousin Clifford's +visit. Come to find out, he'd never seen him before, and hadn't heard +much about him, either. "Torchy," says he, "I shall be rather busy +to-day; so I am going to put Cousin Clifford in your care."</p> + +<p>"Ah, say!" says I. "Hand me an easier one. I couldn't keep him straight +less'n I had him on a rope and led him around."</p> + +<p>"Well, do that, then," says he, "anyway you choose. You may take the day +off, show him the buildings he wants to see, keep him out of trouble, +and don't leave him until you have him safe inside my house to-night. +I'll make it right with you."</p> + +<p>"Seein' it's you," says I, "I'll give it a whirl. But if Clifford wants +to travel around town with me he's got to shake the ear pads."</p> + +<p>Mr. Robert says he'll give him his instructions, and all that; but when +it came to springin'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">141</a></span> the programme on Clifford he runs on a snag. +Somewhere back of them squirrel teeth and under the soft hat there was a +streak of mule. Cliffy balks at the whole business. He's a whole lot +obliged, but he really don't care for comp'ny. Goin' around alone and +not havin' his thoughts sidetracked by some one taggin' along is what he +likes better'n anything else. He's always done it in Bubble Creek and +never got into any trouble before—that is, none to speak of. But he'll +promise to cut out janitors and cab drivers.</p> + +<p>As for the ear muffs, he couldn't think of partin' with them. For years +he's been puttin' them on the first of December and wearin' 'em until +the last of March, and he'd feel lost without 'em, just the same as he +would without the umbrella. Yes, he knew it wa'n't common; but that +didn't bother him at all.</p> + +<p>Right there I gets a new line on Clifford. He's one of these guys that +throws a bluff at bein' modest; but when you scratch him deep you gets +next to the fact that he's dead sure he's a genius and is anxious to +prove it by the way he wears his clothes. There's a lot of that kind +that shows themselves off every night at the fifty-cent table d'hôte +places; but I never knew any of 'em ever came in from so far west as +Bubble Creek.</p> + +<p>Mr. Robert wa'n't on, though. He still<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">142</a></span> freezes to the notion that +Cousin Clifford's just a well-meanin', corn-fed innocent; so before he +turns him loose again he gives him a lot of good advice about not +gettin' tangled up with strangers. Cliffy smiles kind of condescendin' +and tells Mr. Robert he needn't worry a bit.</p> + +<p>With that off he goes; but every time the telephone rings that forenoon +me and Mr. Robert gets nervous. We don't hear a word from him, though, +and by three o'clock we're hopin' for the best.</p> + +<p>Then Aunt Julie shows up. She's a large, elegant old girl, all got up in +Persian lamb and a fur hat with seven kinds of sealin' wax fruit on it. +She's just in from Palm Beach, and she's heard that Brother Henry's boy +is here on a visit.</p> + +<p>"He was such a cute little dear when he was a baby!" says she.</p> + +<p>"He's changed," says Mr. Robert.</p> + +<p>"Of course," says Aunt Julie. "I do want to see if he's grown up to look +like Henry, as I said he would, or like his mother. Where is he now, +Robert?"</p> + +<p>"Heaven only knows!" says he. "It would suit me best if he was on his +way back to Michigan."</p> + +<p>"Why, Robert!" says Aunt Julie. "And Clifford the only cousin you have +in the world!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">143</a></span></p> + +<p>"One is quite enough," says he.</p> + +<p>That gives her another jolt, and she starts to lay out Mr. Robert good, +for givin' the frosty paw to a relation that had come so far to see him. +"I shall stay right here," says she, "until that poor, neglected young +man returns, and then I shall try to make up for your heartless +treatment."</p> + +<p>Aunt Julie didn't have a long wait. She hadn't more'n got herself +settled, when the elevator stops at our floor and there breaks loose all +kinds of a riot in the hall. There was a great jabberin' and foot +scufflin', and I could hear Dennis, that juggles the lever, forkin' out +the assault 'n' batt'ry language in a brogue that sounded like rippin' a +sheet.</p> + +<p>"What's up now?" says Mr. Robert, pokin' his head out.</p> + +<p>"Two to one that's Clifford!" says I.</p> + +<p>There wa'n't any time to get a bet down, though; for just then the door +slams open and we gets a view of things. Oh, it was Cliffy, all right! +He was comin' in backwards, tryin' to wave off the gang that was +follerin' him.</p> + +<p>"Go away!" says he, pushin' at the nearest of 'em. "Please go away!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, it's you should be goin' away, ye shark-faced baboon, ye!" says +Dennis, hoppin' up and down in the door of the car. "You an' yer Polack +friends may walk down, or jump out the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">144</a></span> winder; but divvle a ride do yez +get in this illyvator again. Do ye mind that, now?"</p> + +<p>You couldn't blame him; for the bunch wa'n't fit for the ash hoist. They +were Zinskis, about twenty of 'em, countin' women and kids. You didn't +have to look at the tin trunks and roped bundles to know that they'd +just finished ten days in the steerage. You could tell that by the +bouquet. They didn't carry their perfume with 'em. It went on ahead, and +they follered, backin' Cliffy clear in until he fetched up against the +gate, and then jammin' in around him close. Chee! but they was a punky +lot! They had jack lantern faces and garlic breaths, and they looked to +know about as much as so many cigar store Injuns.</p> + +<p>"Did you have your pick, Cliffy," says I, "or was this a job lot you got +cheap?"</p> + +<p>"Clifford," says Mr. Robert, "what in thunder is the meaning of this +performance of yours?"</p> + +<p>But Clifford just keeps on tryin' to work his elbows clear and looks +dazed. "I don't know," says Cliffy, "truly I don't, Cousin Robert. +They've been following me for an hour, and I've had an awful time."</p> + +<p>"Maybe you've been makin' a noise like a wienerwurst," says I.</p> + +<p>About that time Aunt Julie comes paddin' out. "Did I hear some one say +Clifford?" says she.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">145</a></span></p> + +<p>"You did," says Mr. Robert. "There he is, the one with the ear muffs. I +haven't found out who the others are yet."</p> + +<p>"Phe-e-e-ew!" says she, takin' one sniff, and with that she grabs out +her scent bottle and runs back, slammin' the door behind her.</p> + +<p>"Cliffy," says I, "you don't seem to be makin' much of a hit with your +Ellis Island bunch."</p> + +<p>"What I want to know," says Mr. Robert, "is what this is all about!"</p> + +<p>But Clifford didn't have the key. All he knew was that when he started +to leave the subway train they had tagged after, and that since then he +hadn't been able to shake 'em. Once he'd jumped on a Broadway car; but +they'd all piled in too, and the conductor had made him shell out a +nickel for every last one. Another time he'd dodged through one of them +revolvin' doors into a hotel, and four of 'em had got wedged in so tight +it took half a dozen porters to get 'em out; but the house detective had +spotted Clifford for the head of the procession and held him by the +collar until he could chuck him out to join his friends.</p> + +<p>"It was simply awful!" says he, throwin' up his hands.</p> + +<p>And then I notices the rattan cane. After that it was all clear. +"Where'd you cop the stick, Cliffy?" says I.</p> + +<p>"Stick!" says he. "Why, bless me! I must<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">146</a></span> have taken this instead of my +umbrella. It belongs to that gentleman who sat next to me in the subway +train. You see he was leaning back taking a nap in the corner, and I was +trying to talk to him, and when I left I suppose I took his cane by +mistake."</p> + +<p>"Well," says I, "the Zinskis goes with the cane."</p> + +<p>It's a fact, too. Most all them immigrant runners carries rattans when +they're herdin' gangs of imported pick artists around to the railroad +stations. It's kind of a badge and helps the bunch to keep track of +their leader. Most likely them Zinskis had had their eyes glued to that +cane for hours, knowin' that it was leadin' 'em to a job somewheres, and +they wa'n't goin' to let it get away.</p> + +<p>"Gimme it," says I; "I'll show you how it works."</p> + +<p>Sure enough, soon's I took it and started for the door the whole push +quits eatin' cheese and bread out of their pockets and falls in right +after me.</p> + +<p>"Fine!" says Mr. Robert, grabbin' my hat and chuckin' it after me. "Go +on, Torchy! Keep going!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, say!" says I. "I ain't subbin' for Cliffy. This is his gang."</p> + +<p>But Mr. Robert only grins and motions me to be on my way. "If you come +back here before<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">147</a></span> to-morrow morning," says he, "I'll discharge you on +the spot."</p> + +<p>Now wouldn't that bump you?</p> + +<p>"All right," says I: "but this'll cost Cliffy just twenty."</p> + +<p>"I'll pay it," says Mr. Robert.</p> + +<p>"It's a whizz," says I, wavin' the cane. "Come on, you Sneezowskis! I'll +show you where the one fifty per grows on bushes."</p> + +<p>What did I do with 'em? Ah, say, it was a cinch! I runs 'em down seven +flights of stairs, marches 'em three blocks up town, and then rushes up +to a big stiff in a green and gold uniform that's hired to stand outside +a flower shop and open carriage doors. He and me had some words a couple +of months ago, because I butted him in the belt when I was in a hurry +once.</p> + +<p>"Here," says I, rushin' up and jammin' the cane into his hand, "hold +that till I come back!" and before he has time to pipe off the bunch of +Polackers that's come to a parade rest around us, I makes a dive in +amongst the cars and beats it down Broadway.</p> + +<p>Nah, I don't know what becomes of him, or the Zinskis either. All I know +is that I'm twenty to the good, and that Cousin Clifford's been shipped +back to Bubble Creek, glad to get out of New York alive. But, as I says +to Mr. Robert, "What do you look for from a guy that buttons his ears up +in flannel?"</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">148</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2><h3>BACKING OUT OF A FLUFF RIOT</h3> +</div> + +<p>They will turn up, won't they? Here I was only yesterday noontime +loafin' through the arcade, when who should I get the hail from but +Hunch Leary, with a bookful of rush messages and his cap down over his +ears.</p> + +<p>Now I ain't sayin' he's the toughest lookin' A. D. T. that ever sat on a +call bench, for maybe I've seen worse; but with his bent-in nose, and +his pop eyes, and that undershot jaw—well, he ain't one you'd send in +to quiet a cryin' baby. Hunch didn't pose for that picture of the sweet +youth on the blue signs outside the district offices. They don't pick +him out for these theater-escort snaps, either.</p> + +<p>Which shows how far you can go on looks, anyway; for, if I was going to +trust my safety-vault key with anyone, it would be Hunch. Not that +they'll ever use him to decorate any stained-glass window; but I never +look for him to land on the rock pile.</p> + +<p>Course, I don't see much of Hunch and the rest these days; but it ain't +a case of dodgin'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">149</a></span> old friends on my part, so me and him hangs up +against a radiator in the main corridor and talks it over. I wants to +know if Stiff Miller is still manager down at No. 11 branch, and who's +wearin' the red stripe yet; while Hunch he puts over a few polite +quizzes as to how I'm gettin' on with the Corrugated people.</p> + +<p>We hadn't been gassin' but five minutes or so, and there's ten more due +on the clock before lunch hour is over, when I looks up to see our Mr. +Piddie going by and givin' me the frown. I knew what that meant. It's +another call-down. He has plenty of time to work up his case; for I takes +the limit and don't hang up my hat until the life-insurance chimes has +done their one-o'clock stunt. And I'm hardly settled behind the brass +gate before Piddie is down on me with the old mushy-mouthed reproof.</p> + +<p>"One is known," says he, "by the company one keeps."</p> + +<p>"I'm no New Theater manager," says I. "What's the answer?"</p> + +<p>"I observed you loitering in the lower corridor," says he. "That is +all."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" says I. "You seen me conversin' with Mr. Leary, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Leary!" says Piddie, raisin' his eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"Well, Hunch, then," says I. "Tryin' to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">150</a></span> get up a grouch because you +wa'n't introduced? Don't take it hard. He's kind of exclusive, Mr. Leary +is."</p> + +<p>Piddie swallows that throat pippin of his two or three times before he +can get a grip on his feelings enough to go on with the lesson of the +day. "I merely wish to remark," says he, "that evil communications +corrupt good manners."</p> + +<p>"How about court Judges, then," says I, "and these slum missionaries'? +G'wan, Piddie! Back to the copybook with your mottoes! I'm a mixer, I +am! Would I be chinnin' here with you if I wa'n't?"</p> + +<p>He sighs, Piddie does, and struts away to freeze the soul of some new +lady typist by looking over her shoulder. As an act of charity, they +ought to let Piddie fire me about once a month. He'll die of grief if he +don't get the chance sometime.</p> + +<p>And blamed if he don't come near gettin' his heart's desire before the +day was over!</p> + +<p>It all begins about three o'clock, when Piddie comes turkeyin' out of +the telephone booth all swelled up with importance and signals me to +come on the carpet.</p> + +<p>"Torchy," says he, "I presume you know where the Metropolitan Building +is?"</p> + +<p>"They ain't moved it since lunchtime, have they?" says I.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">151</a></span></p> + +<p>"That will do!" says he. "Now listen very carefully."</p> + +<p>You'd thought from his preamble that I was going to be sent up to +regulate the clock, or see if the tower was still plumb; but all it +simmers down to is that I'm to take a leather document case, hunt up Mr. +Ellins, who's attendin' a directors' meetin' over there, and deliver +some papers that he's forgot to have his private secretary lug along.</p> + +<p>"And kindly refrain," he tacks on at the last, "from stopping to talk +with any suspicious characters on the way."</p> + +<p>"Say, Piddie," says I, "if I was you I'd have that printed on a card. +Some day you're going to forget to rub that in."</p> + +<p>Well, I hustles across the square, locates Old Hickory, and delivers the +goods without droppin' 'em down a manhole or doin' any of the other +awful things that Piddie would have warned me against if he'd had more +time. I tucks the empty case under my arm and was for makin' a record +trip back, just to surprise Piddie; but while I'm waitin' for that +flossy lever juggler on the express elevator to answer my red-light +signal I hears this riot break loose on the floor below.</p> + +<p>And say, I wa'n't missin' any lively disturbance like that; for it +listens like a mob scene from one of them French guillotine plays.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">152</a></span> +Mostly it's female voices that floats up, and they was all tuned to the +saw-filin' pitch. A pasty-faced young gent wearin' a green eye-shade and +an office coat comes beatin' it up the marble steps, and I fires a +question at him on the fly.</p> + +<p>"Is it a gen'ral rough-house number," says I, "or have the suffragettes +broke loose again?"</p> + +<p>"You're welcome to find out for yourself," he pants, dashin' up another +flight.</p> + +<p>"Thanks for the invite," says I. "Guess I will."</p> + +<p>And, say, talk about your mass plays around a shirtwaist bargain +counter! Why, the corridor was full of 'em, all tryin' to rush the door +of 1,323 at once. For a guess I should say that half the manicure +artists, lady demonstrators, and cloak models between 14th and 34th was +on the spot. Oh, they was a swell bunch, with more fur turbans and Marie +Antoinette ringlets on view than you could see collected anywhere +outside of Murray's!</p> + +<p>They was sayin' things, too! I couldn't catch anything but odd words +here and there; but the gen'ral drift of their remarks seems to be that +someone has welshed on 'em. First off I thought it must be one of these +skirt bucket-shops that has been closed out by the renting agent; but +then I gets a look at the sign on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">153</a></span> the door and sees that it's the +Peruvian Investment Company, which sounds like one of them common twenty +per cent. a month games.</p> + +<p>And it's a case of lockout, with the lady customers ragin' on the +outside, and nobody knows what's takin' place behind the ground glass. +That wa'n't excitin' enough to lure me from a steady job for long, +though, unless some one was goin' to do more'n look desp'rate and talk +spiteful.</p> + +<p>"Ah, why not smash something?" I sings out. "Didn't any lady think to +bring a brick in her vanity bag?"</p> + +<p>A couple turns around and glares at me; but it encourages one to begin +hammerin' on the glass with her near-gold purse, and just as I'm about +to leave this turns the trick. The door swings open all of a sudden, and +there stands a tall, well-built gent, with a green felt hat pushed back +on his head, a five-inch cigar juttin' out of one corner of his mouth, +and his thumbs stuck in the pockets of a sporty striped vest. On account +of the curly brown Vandyke, he's kind of a foreign-lookin' party; but +someway them smilin', wide-open eyes of his has a sort of familiar look.</p> + +<p>For a high pressure storm center he seems mighty placid. As he throws +open the door he steps back into the middle of the room, rests one elbow +against the rail of a wired-in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">154</a></span> cashier's coop, and removes the cheroot +so he can spring a comfortin' smile on the crowd. It's a brainy play. +The rush line stops like it has gone up against a bridge pier, and then +spreads out in a half-circle.</p> + +<p>"Well, ladies," says he, "what can we do for you to-day?"</p> + +<p>Do I know who it is then? Well, do I! Maybe it has been months since +I've heard the voice, and maybe he does wear a set of face herbage that +I'd never seen before; but I ain't one to forget the only real A-1 +classy boss I ever had; not that soon, anyway. It's Mr. Belmont Pepper, +as sure as I've got a Titian thatch on my skull!</p> + +<p>Do I linger? That's what! Why, I've been waitin' for him to show up +again like a hired girl waits for Thursday afternoon. It's Mr. Pepper, +all right; but it looks like he's been let in bad, for after one or two +gasps in chorus that bunch of lady grouches gets their second wind and +closes in on him with a whoop.</p> + +<p>"Where's my dividends? I want to draw out my money! Say, you give me +back my eighteen dollars, or I'll——You'll try your bunko game on me, +will you? Hey! I've been waiting since noon to catch you, you——"</p> + +<p>My! but they did have their hammers out! They called him everything that +a lady could, and a few names that wa'n't so ladylike as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">155</a></span> they might +have been. They shook things at him, and promised to do him all sorts of +damage, from bringin' lawsuits to scratchin' his eyes out.</p> + +<p>Mr. Pepper, though, he goes on smokin' and smilin', now and then +throwin' in a shoulder shrug just to hint that there wa'n't any use in +his tryin' to get in a word until they was all through. He almost acts +like he enjoyed being mobbed; but of course he knew better'n to choke +off a lot of women before they'd had their say out. He just let 'em jaw +along and get it out of their systems. Fin'lly he raises his hand, takes +off the green lid, and bows graceful.</p> + +<p>"Ladies," says he, "I fully sympathize with your impatience—fully."</p> + +<p>"You look it, I don't think!" sings out a big blonde, shakin' her willow +plumes energetic.</p> + +<p>Mr. Pepper throws her a smile and spiels ahead. "You will be pleased to +hear, however," says he, "that the board of directors, on the strength +of cabled advices from our general manager in Peru, has just voted an +extra dividend of ten per cent."</p> + +<p>"When do we get it? Show us some money!" howls the kickers.</p> + +<p>"I have been requested to announce," goes on Mr. Pepper, "that payments +from this office<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">156</a></span> will be resumed promptly at noon—on the first day of +next month."</p> + +<p>Does that satisfy 'em? Not so you'd notice it. A bigger squawk than ever +goes up, and the jam around Mr. Pepper begins to look like rush hour at +the Hudson Terminal. They starts clawin' at his elbows, and grabbin' his +coat, and when I notices one wild-eyed brunette reachin' for a hatpin I +knew it was a case of me to the rescue or sendin' in an ambulance call.</p> + +<p>Not that I had any notion what ought to be done in a case like this. I +couldn't throw him a rope or shove out a plank; I ain't any expert woman +trainer, either; but can I stand there with my mouth open and see an old +friend get the hooks thrown into him by a class in hysterics? Not when +the hookee happens to be one that once set me up as a stockholder in a +gold mine. So I lets flicker with the first fool idea that comes into my +head.</p> + +<p>"Gangway!" I shouts out, wedgin' my way in among 'em and usin' my +elbows. "Gangway for the bank messenger! Ah, don't shove, girls; he +ain't the only man left in New York. One side for the real money +bringer! One side now!" And by holdin' the leather case high up where +they could all see it, and hittin' the line like Coy does when it's +three downs with ten yards to go, I manages to get through without +losin' many coat buttons.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">157</a></span></p> + +<p>"Here you are, sir," says I, shovin' the case out to Mr. Pepper and +givin' him the knowin' look. "City National. Cashier wants a receipt."</p> + +<p>Does he need a diagram and a card of instructions? Trust Belmont Pepper! +"Ah, this way," says he. "Pardon me a moment, ladies, only a moment. +This way, young man." And almost before they know what has happened him +and me are behind the partition with the gate locked.</p> + +<p>"Let's see," says he, lookin' me over kind of puzzled, +"it's—er—Torchy, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"There's the proof," says I, liftin' the cover off my danger signal.</p> + +<p>"I might have known," says he, "that no one else could have put up so +good a bluff on the spur of the——"</p> + +<p>"Now that's all right, Mr. Pepper," says I; "but the bluff won't hold +'em long. What you want to do is get busy and make a noise like +hundred-dollar bills. I don't know what the trouble is; but it looks +like the genuine goods to me."</p> + +<p>"Diagnosis correct," says he. "I'm boxed. Now if they were only men, I +could——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, sure!" says I. "But a bunch of nutty fluffs is diff'rent. They +never know what they want or why they want it. Say, ain't you got +another exit?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">158</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. Pepper shakes his head. "No, son," says he; "but don't you worry +about me. Your strategy thus far has been excellent; but I don't want +you to get mixed up in this mess. Skip, Torchy, while the skipping is +easy."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Pepper," says I, "do I look like a quitter? I ain't forgot what you +did about givin' me them Glory Be stocks, either, and I'm goin' to hang +around here until this little private cyclone of yours blows over."</p> + +<p>Mr. Pepper he looks at me a minute in that calm way of his, and then he +shrugs his shoulders. "All right," says he.</p> + +<p>Then we listens to the buzz outside. Some was explainin' to others how a +bushel of money had just come in from the City National Bank, and some +was insistin' that it was just a north-pole fake. It's a free-for-all +debate with all rules in the discard. Then we hears one voice that's +louder than the others calling out for a committee.</p> + +<p>"We must organize!" she says. "Let's organize for action!"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" observes Mr. Pepper. "Now for feminine tactics! That looks +better."</p> + +<p>A couple of minutes more and they've concluded to adjourn to the +corridor. When they're all out and I can hear 'em down at the further +end, I gives him the tip.</p> + +<p>"Now's your chance!" says I. "Up one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">159</a></span> flight and you can get an express +elevator. I'll show you."</p> + +<p>Mr. Pepper don't like the idea, though, of doin' the gumshoe sneak. He +hates to run away from any kind of a fight, specially a lot of women. He +don't run, either; but after awhile he consents to walk out, and we +strolls towards the steps dignified and easy.</p> + +<p>It looked like a clean get-away for a minute, too; but I hadn't counted +on their leavin' a picket to watch the elevator. She sees us and gives +the alarm; so by the time we're up to the next floor the whole mob is +after us, lettin' out the war cries as if it was a case of kidnappin'.</p> + +<p>They struck the upper corridor just as I've got my finger on the button, +and in the front ranks they're pushin' along the gray uniformed special +cop that they've rung up from the first floor. Also who should step out +into the midst of the riot but Old Hickory Ellins, just leavin' the +directors' meeting. He goes purple-faced and bug-eyed, but before I can +dodge out of sight of course he spots me. And that's the very minute +when a couple of lady avengers points me and Mr. Pepper out to the cop +and the pinch business is about to begin.</p> + +<p>"Why, what's all the row about, Torchy?" says he. "And who is that with +you?" He gets answers from the anvil chorus.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">160</a></span></p> + +<p>"That's the swindler!" they shouts. "That's Prentice Owens! He's the one +that took our money, and the boy is one of the gang! Nab 'em, Mr. +Officer, please nab 'em!"</p> + +<p>"G'wan, you're a lot of flossy kikes!" I throws back at 'em.</p> + +<p>"Torchy," says Mr. Ellins, "have you been up to any swindling game?"</p> + +<p>"Honest, I ain't, Mr. Ellins," says I.</p> + +<p>"I am inclined to believe that," says he; "but what about the other +person? Is he a friend of yours?"</p> + +<p>"Sure," says I. "And he's on the level too."</p> + +<p>"He's Prentice Owens, is he?" says he.</p> + +<p>"Nah," says I. "He's Mr. Belmont Pepper, he is, president of the Glory +Be Mining Company. Why, I used to work for him! That aggregation of +female dopes is full of prunes. Mr. Pepper's no crook."</p> + +<p>"Hum!" says Old Hickory, rubbin' his chin. "A case of mistaken identity, +eh? Officer, you know me, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Ellins," says the special, jerkin' off his cap, "oh, yes, +sir."</p> + +<p>"Then drive these deluded women downstairs and tell them their mistake," +says Old Hickory. "Come, Mr. Pepper. Come, Torchy. In with you!"</p> + +<p>And inside of two shakes we're shootin'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">161</a></span> down a one hundred and fifty +foot shaft with no stops until the ground floor. Not until we gets +outside and Mr. Ellins jumps into his cab does Mr. Pepper say a word.</p> + +<p>"Torchy," says he, "you're the real thing in the friendship line. I will +admit that appearances are somewhat against me, but——"</p> + +<p>"Ah, say!" I breaks in. "Don't I know you, Mr. Pepper? Do I have to see +any books to know that you're playin' a straight game? It was a matter +of needin' a little time, wa'n't it, and bein' rushed off your feet when +you didn't expect the move? I could guess that much from the start. All +I want to ask is, how's the mine gettin' on, the Glory Be, you know?"</p> + +<p>He looks at his feet for a second or so and kind of flushes. Then he +straightens up, looks me level between the eyes, and reaches out a hand +to give me the brotherhood grip.</p> + +<p>"Torchy," says he, "there is a mine, and the last I heard it was still +there. Anyway, I'm dropping the investment business right here, and I'm +going out to see what our property looks like. I'll let you know." With +that he whirls and dashes off across the avenue.</p> + +<p>"How is it," says Piddie when I gets back, "that it takes you an hour +and a quarter to go four blocks?"</p> + +<p>"Hookworms, Piddie," says I, "hookworms. I had a sudden attack."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">162</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2><h3>RUNG IN WITH THE GOLD SPOONERS</h3> +</div> + +<p>On the level now, what's a he Cinderella? And if your boss called you a +name like that, would you resign, or throw out your chest and strike for +a raise? But, then, maybe it was only some of Mr. Robert's fancy +joshin'. Anyway, I'd stand in line waitin' for a thing like that to +happen again.</p> + +<p>The way it begun was when I runs across this new girl in the filin' room +and finds her snifflin' over one of the index cases. She's bitin' her +lips to keep from doing it and she's red way up behind her ears; so I +knows she's more mad than sorry. I could guess what's happened; for I'd +just seen Piddie come out of there looking satisfied and important.</p> + +<p>"Hello, sis!" says I. "Weepin' over your job so soon?"</p> + +<p>"Shut up!" says she.</p> + +<p>"Why, how pettish!" says I. "What was Piddie callin' you down for?"</p> + +<p>"What's that to you?" says she. "Who are you, anyway?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">163</a></span></p> + +<p>"Me?" says I. "Why, I'm the Corrugated's gen'ral grouch dispeller. I'm +the official little ray of sunshine. See?" and I bobs my head so she can +get a good view of my red thatch.</p> + +<p>"Huh!" says she; but she can't help lettin' out a grin, so I sees the +cure has begun.</p> + +<p>"Don't you mind Piddie," says I. "He don't dare tie the can to you +without reportin' higher up. He likes to make a noise like a watchdog, +that's all. Next time you give him the merry chuckle."</p> + +<p>And, honest, I'd done the same if she'd been wall-eyed and +toggle-jointed, just for the sake of blockin' off his little game.</p> + +<p>It wa'n't until a couple of days later, when she shoots over a casual +flashlight look as I'm strollin' past, that I takes any partic'lar +notice of what a Daisy Maizie she is. There's more or less class to her +lines, all right, not to mention a pair of rollin' brown eyes. Course, I +sends back the roguish wink, and by the end of the week we was callin' +each other by our pet names.</p> + +<p>Not that I'm entered reg'lar as a Percy boy, or that I takes this so +serious as to miss any meals; but you know how it is. And what if she +was a few years older? She seems to like it when I sing out, "Oh, you +Theresa!" at her, and once she mussed up my hair when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">164</a></span> there wa'n't +anybody lookin'. In fact, I was almost to the point of thinkin' that I'd +been picked as somebody's honey boy when this Izzy Budheimer shows up as +a late entry.</p> + +<p>Izzy, he's a third assistant in the stock department, and on twelve a +week he sports one of those striped green overcoats and a plush hat with +the bow behind. Maybe he wouldn't be listed as a home destroyer; but he +has a flossy way with him and he goes around a lot. About the second +week I sees him and the new girl gettin' chummier and chummier, and, +while she still has a jolly for me now and then, I knows I'm only a side +issue. That's what hurt most. So what fool play must I make but go and +plunge on a sixty-cent box of mixed choc'lates for her!</p> + +<p>As luck would have it, Mr. Robert spots me comin' out of the 23d-st. +candy shop with the package under my arm. You wouldn't think he'd notice +a little clew like that, or pick me up on it; but he does.</p> + +<p>"How now, Torchy?" says he. "Sweets to the sweet, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Uh-huh," says I, and I guess I colors up some.</p> + +<p>"What is the fair one's name?" says he.</p> + +<p>"Tessie," says I.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" says he. "Thus were they ever named: Tessie, Juliet, and Helen of +Troy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">165</a></span> They're all one. My envious sympathy, Torchy, and may the gods be +kind!"</p> + +<p>Which is only the brand of hot air Mr. Robert blows off whenever he has +a good lunch under his vest and nothin' heavy on his mind. It don't mean +anything at all.</p> + +<p>"Troy!" says I. "Can it! This ain't for no up-State laundry hand. She +comes from Eighth-ave."</p> + +<p>Well, I stows the box away until closin' time, and then waits around the +upper corridor for Tessie to show up. Izzy, he spots me and proceeds to +improve the time by givin' me an earache about what an important party +he is, how he expects to be jumped a notch soon, and about how much he +makes nights on the outside, followin' up some checkroom snap or other.</p> + +<p>"That's fine!" says I. "But won't you be late gettin' over to +Grand-st.?"</p> + +<p>Izzy was still explainin' how long it was since his folks moved to the +West Side, and what swell things they had in the parlor, when Tessie +floats out with her new spring lid and princess walkin' suit on. I'm +just shovin' out the peace offerin' and gettin' ready to hand over my +smoothest josh, when she brushes past like I was part of the wall +decoration, squeals, "Oh, Mr. Budheimer!" and begins showin' Izzy some +tickets for the grand annual benefit ball of the Shirtwaist Makers' +Union, and tellin'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">166</a></span> him how she was sellin' 'em for her sister, and what +a grand time it was goin' to be.</p> + +<p>"How much?" says Izzy, tryin' hard to choke it back, but losin' the +struggle.</p> + +<p>"Seventy-five for a double ticket," says Tessie. "That's the kind you +want."</p> + +<p>"Maybe I would yet, if I could get a partner," says he.</p> + +<p>"Ain't that an awful sad case?" says Tessie. "Nobody's teased me very +hard, either."</p> + +<p>"You'll go with me, yes?" says Izzy.</p> + +<p>"It's awful sudden," says she; "but a chance is a chance. Don't send a +cab; the folks in the block might think I was putting on."</p> + +<p>And me? Why, I don't show on the chart at all! Right under my nose she +does it, and don't even give me a sideways glance.</p> + +<p>"Pooh!" says I. "Pooh, pooh!"</p> + +<p>"What a cute little fellah!" says Tessie to him as they crowds into the +elevator with the rest of the push.</p> + +<p>"Say," says I, making a jump for the grating, "you don't need to——"</p> + +<p>"Next car!" sings out the Johnny Flip, slammin' the door. Now wa'n't +that rubbin' it in?</p> + +<p>"Coises!" says I. "Deep coises!" and walks down eleven flights with a +temperature that would have got me condemned by any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">167</a></span> boiler inspector in +the business. The candy? That goes to one of the pie-faced maids where I +lives.</p> + +<p>The nerve of that Izzy, though! In the mornin' he comes around just like +nothin' had happened and wants to know if I'll sub. for him on his +evenin' job the night he goes to the ball. To show I don't carry any +grouch, I says I will; but he offers only half-pay and makes me agree to +split the tips with him.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't afford it, at that," says he, "only this is a kid session +and the graft will be light."</p> + +<p>It's this checkroom work of his, you know, at one of them swell +Fifth-ave. joints where they have an extra night force on call for +coming-out parties and dinner dances and the like. So, while him and +Tessie is enjoyin' themselves with the lady shirtwaist makers, I'm +standin' behind the counter wearin' a braided jacket, givin' out check +coupons, and stowin' away hats and top-coats for Master Reginald and +other buddin' sports of the younger set. Seems this is the final blowout +of Miss Somebody's afternoon dancin' class, and no one was allowed +inside unless Father had his name printed in bright red ink in the +social register.</p> + +<p>A hot lot of young gold spooners they was too; some of 'em not as old as +me by a couple of years, and swellin' around in dinky Tuxes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">168</a></span> and white +kids. One of 'em even hands me in a silver-headed cane.</p> + +<p>"Careful of that stick, my man," says he.</p> + +<p>"Oh, sure!" says I. "Puppah'd be wild if anything happened to it, +wouldn't he?"</p> + +<p>And you should have heard the talk they had as they loafs around the +cloakroom between the numbers,—all about the awful things they did at +prep school, how they bunked the masters, and smuggled brandied peaches +up to their rooms, and rough-housed durin' mornin' prayers. Almost made +your blood run cold—not.</p> + +<p>When they got to discussin' the girls, though, and sayin' how such a one +was a "jolly sort," and others was "bloomin' rotters," it made me +seasick and it was a relief when they took to whisperin' things I +couldn't hear about the chaperons. After intermission they come sneakin' +in by twos and threes to hit up their cigarettes.</p> + +<p>It was about eleven-thirty and there was four or five of 'em in the +cloakroom, puffin' away languid like real clubmen, when in drifts a +young lady all in pink silk and gold net and hails one of the wicked +bunch.</p> + +<p>"Bobby," says she, "you ought to be ashamed of yourself!"</p> + +<p>"Run on now, Vee," says he. "Told you when I asked you to come that I +wasn't a dancing man, y'know."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">169</a></span></p> + +<p>"Fudge!" says she, stampin' her foot. "You think it's smart to take that +pose, don't you? Well, you wait!"</p> + +<p>And, say, you talk about your haughty beauts! Why, she was a little the +silkiest young queen I ever had a real close view of,—the slimmest feet +and ankles, reg'lar cameo-cut face all tinted up natural like a bunch of +sweet peas, and a lot of straw-colored hair as fine as cobwebs. She was +a thoroughbred stunner, this Miss Vee was, and mad all over.</p> + +<p>"I haven't been on the floor for four numbers," she goes on. "You just +wait!"</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't be cad enough to peach on us for smokin', would you?" says +Bobby.</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't I, though!" says she.</p> + +<p>That starts a stampede. All but Bobby chucks away their cigarettes and +beats it back to the ballroom. He turns sulky, though.</p> + +<p>"Tell ahead," says he. "Who cares? And let's see you get any more +dances!"</p> + +<p>He's a pasty-faced, weak-jawed youth with a chronic scowl and a sullen +look in his eyes. I should say he was sixteen maybe, and the young lady +a year older. She grips her fan hard and stands there starin' at him. +I'm so much int'rested in the case that the first thing I know I've +butted in with advice.</p> + +<p>"Ah, be nice, Claude!" says I. "Dance with the young lady. I would if I +was you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">170</a></span></p> + +<p>And you can't guess how fussy a little remark like that gets Bobby boy. +He almost swallows his cigarette from the jar he gets, being spoken to +by a common cloakroom checker. First off he jumps up and stalks over to +me real majestic and threatenin'.</p> + +<p>"You—you——How dare you?" he splutters out.</p> + +<p>"There, there!" says I. "Don't get bristle-spined over it. I wa'n't +offerin' any deadly insult, and if it makes you feel as bad as all that +I'll take it back."</p> + +<p>"I—I'll have you dismissed!" he growls.</p> + +<p>"Can't do it, Bobby," says I. "I'm no reg'lar tip-chaser. I'm here +incog.—doing it for a lark, y'know. Back to your corner, now! There's a +lady present."</p> + +<p>He glares at me for a minute or so, and then turns on the queen in pink. +"I hope you're satisfied, Vee," says he. "You would come in here, +though! I can't help it if the attendants are insolent to you."</p> + +<p>"Pooh!" says Miss Vee. "The young man was only taking my part."</p> + +<p>"So?" sneers Bobbie. "I congratulate you on your new champion."</p> + +<p>"He acts more like a gentleman than you do, at any rate!" she fires back +at him.</p> + +<p>"Does he?" says Bobby. "Then why don't you get him for a partner?"</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 509px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="illus-002" id="illus-002"></a> +<img src="images/illus-170.jpg" alt=""G'WAN!" SAYS I, "IT'S A FAIR SWAP."" title="" width="509" height="400" /><br /> +<span class="caption">"G'WAN!" SAYS I, "IT'S A FAIR SWAP."</span> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">171</a></span>"If +you don't ask me for this next waltz, I will," says she, tossin' up +her chin.</p> + +<p>"What a bluff!" says Bobby. "Well, Miss Vee, I'm not going to ask you. +Now!"</p> + +<p>Say, it was gettin' more or less personal by that time, and I was +wonderin' just how the young lady was goin' to back out of the +proposition that had been put up to her, when the first thing I know +she's marchin' straight over to where I was.</p> + +<p>"Will you give me this next waltz?" says she.</p> + +<p>"Say," I gasps, "do you mean it?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly I do," says she. "You can dance, can't you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," says I; "but I can do an East Side spiel."</p> + +<p>"Good!" says she. "I know how to do that too. Come on."</p> + +<p>"In a minute," says I. "Just hold on until I borrow the young +gentleman's evenin' coat."</p> + +<p>"Wha—what's that?" snorts Bobby.</p> + +<p>"You can be usin' mine for a smokin' jacket," says I. "Peel it off now, +and let the fancy vest come along too!"</p> + +<p>"I—I won't do it!" says Bobbie.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, you will," says I, "or else you and me will be mixed up in a +rumpus that'll bring the chaperons and special cops in here<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">172</a></span> on the +run," and with that I proceeds to shed the braided coat and my black +vest.</p> + +<p>"You're insulting!" says Bobby, gettin' wild-eyed.</p> + +<p>"G'wan!" says I. "It's a fair swap. I'll leave it to the young lady."</p> + +<p>And when I'd sized her up for a thoroughbred I hadn't made any wild +guess. There's a twinkle under them long eyelashes that's as good as a +go-ahead signal.</p> + +<p>"Of course," says she. "It was you who suggested him as a partner, +anyway. And hurry, Bobby, there goes the waltz!"</p> + +<p>"I—I——" he begins.</p> + +<p>"Ah, shuck 'em!" says I, startin' for him hasty.</p> + +<p>I expects it was the prospects of gettin' rung into a rough and tumble, +and having to explain to mother, that changed Bobby's mind so sudden. At +any rate, inside of a minute more I'm wearin' the pearl-gray waistcoat +and the silk-faced tuxedo, and out I sails onto the shiny floor of the +green and gold ballroom with somebody's pink-costumed heiress hangin' to +my left arm.</p> + +<p>"One-two-three; one-two-three——Now!" says she, countin' out the time +so I shouldn't make any false start.</p> + +<p>But, say, I didn't need that. Course, I'm no cotillion leader, and about +all the dancin' I ever<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">173</a></span> done was at chowder parties or in the Coney +Island halls; but who couldn't keep step to a tune like "Yip-I-Addy" +played by a twelve-piece goulash orchestra, specially with such a +crackerjack partner as Miss Vee was?</p> + +<p>Could we spiel together? Why, say, we just floats along over the waxed +maple boards like a pair of summer butterflies, pivotin' first one way +and then the other, dodgin' in and out among the couples, and givin' an +exhibition that had any other performance on the floor lookin' like a +cripples' parade.</p> + +<p>First it got into my heels, and then it goes to my head. I didn't know +whether I was waltzin', or havin' a joy ride with some biplane shuffer. +I wa'n't sayin' a word in the way of language; but Miss Vee keeps up a +string of chatter and giggles that's enough for both. You'd thought to +see us, I expect, that we was carryin' on a real, rapid-fire, smart-set +dialogue, when all the while it was only her tellin' me how the +diff'rent parties was actin' when they first spotted her on the floor +with a ringer, and how the chaperons were squintin' at us through their +lorgnettes, tryin' to make out who I was. And the greatest shock I ever +had was when the music stopped and I fell about a mile down through rosy +clouds.</p> + +<p>"Wait!" says Miss Vee, squeezin' my arm. "There'll be an encore. My +aunt's over there,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">174</a></span> and she's just wild; but it doesn't matter."</p> + +<p>"You're a good sport," says I, joinin' in the hand-clappin' to jog the +orchestra into givin' us a repeat.</p> + +<p>And just as they starts up the tune again I happens to glance up into +the little visitors' balcony at the end of the ballroom. Who do you +guess I sees watchin' us bug-eyed and open-mouthed? Why, Izzy Budheimer +and Miss Tessie! See? They've broke away from the lady shirtwaisters +durin' the supper hour so Izzy can give his new girl a glimpse of what a +real swell dance is like. Maybe he planned on stoppin' in at the +cloakroom too, and seein' if I was holdin' down the job proper.</p> + +<p>Anyway, I can't blame him for doin' the open-face act when he discovers +me out on the floor with the belle of the ball. But all I has time to do +is send him up the chilly stare, and away we go again into another +one-two-three dream—me and Miss Vee.</p> + +<p>"I don't care what becomes of me," she hums over my shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Me either," says I.</p> + +<p>"Silly boy!" says she. "What's your name?"</p> + +<p>"Just Torchy," says I, "after my hair."</p> + +<p>"I think curly red hair is cute," says she.</p> + +<p>"I could go hoarse sayin' things like that about you," says I.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">175</a></span></p> + +<p>Maybe it was lucky, too, that this second installment was short, or I +might have gone clean mushy; for the way she could look at me out of +them big gray eyes of hers was—well, it was the real thing in thrills. +The wind-up came just as we gets around near the cloakroom door and we +stops.</p> + +<p>"It was awfully good of you," says she.</p> + +<p>"Gee!" says I. "Why, I could wear out all my old shoes doin' that, and +if ever you need——"</p> + +<p>"S-s-sh!" says she. "Here comes my aunt!"</p> + +<p>Not waitin' for any further diagram of the situation, I makes a dash +into the cloakroom, where I finds Izzy Budheimer gazin' puzzled at +Bobby, who's sittin' tilted back in his shirt sleeves with the braided +coat slung on the floor.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Torchy!" begins Izzy. "What the——"</p> + +<p>"On the job, Izzy, if you want to save it!" says I, wigglin' out of +Master Bobby's expensive clothes and chuckin' 'em at him.</p> + +<p>"But why—what——" says Izzy, tryin' again.</p> + +<p>"Don't stop to ask fool questions of a busy society man," says I; "but +jump into your uniform, get in your coop there, and prepare to put the +timelock on your conversation works. In about a minute there'll be a +delegation of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">176</a></span> old hens in here lookin' for a mysterious young gent with +incendiary hair who has disappeared. Your cue is to look innocent and +not know anything about it. See? If there's any explainin' to be done, +let Bobby do it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say!" groans Bobby, jumpin' up, and by the time I've struck the +bottom stair on my way out he's grabbed his overcoat and is beatin' it +down to find his carriage.</p> + +<p>How Miss Vee squared it with Aunty is a puzzle I never expect to find +out the answer to; but I'll risk her. She's a pink queen, she is, and +after that one waltz with her I can look cold-eyed at a row of Tessie +girls stretchin' from here to the Battery!</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">177</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2><h3>LANDING ON A SIDE STREET</h3> +</div> + +<p>It was a little matter between me and Mother Sykes that starts me off to +hunt a new boardin' place. Lovely old girl, Mother Sykes is, one of the +kind that calls everybody "Deary" and collects in advance every Saturday +night. She's got one of them inquisitive landlady noses that looks like +it was made for pryin' up trunk covers and pokin' into bureau drawers.</p> + +<p>That don't bother me any, though. It's only when I misses my swell +outfit, the one Benny had built for me to wear at his weddin', that I +gets sore. Course, she'd only borrowed it for Pa Sykes to wear on a +Sunday afternoon call, him bein' a little runt of a gent, with watery +eyes and a red nose, that never does anything on his own hook. And if he +hadn't denied it so brassy I shouldn't have called him down so hard, +right in the front hall with half the roomers listenin'.</p> + +<p>"Dreamed it, eh, did I?" says I. "Well, listen here, Sykesy! Next time I +has an optical illusion of you paradin' out in any of my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">178</a></span> uniform, +there'll be doin's before the Sergeant!"</p> + +<p>Then Mother Sykes rushes up from the kitchen and saves the fam'ly honor +by throwin' an indignation fit. I don't know how long it lasted; but she +was gettin' purple clear up under her false front when I slid out the +door and left her at it. Next day I noticed the sign hung up; but I +didn't know which sky parlor was vacant until I strolls in at +five-fifteen Friday night and finds my things out in the hall and a new +lodger in my room.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well," says I, "what's a sudden move now and then to a free lance +like me?"</p> + +<p>And as there ain't anybody in sight to register my fond farewells with, +I gathers up my suitcase and laundry bag, chucks the latchkey on the +stand in the front hall, and beats it. Not until I'm three blocks away +does I remember that all the cash I've got in my clothes is three +quarters and a dime, which comes of my listenin' to Mallory's advice +about soakin' my roll away in a bloomin' savings bank.</p> + +<p>"Looks like I'd spend the night in a Mills hotel," says I, "unless I +find Mallory and make a touch."</p> + +<p>It was chasin' him up that fetches me over on the West Side and through +one of them nice, respectable, private-house blocks just below 14th-st. +You know the kind, that begin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">179</a></span> at Fifth-ave. with a double-breasted old +brownstone, and end at Sixth with a delicatessen shop.</p> + +<p>Well, I was moseyin' along quiet and peaceful, wonderin' how long since +anything ever really happened in that partic'lar section, when all of a +sudden I feels about a cupful of cold water strike me in the back of the +neck.</p> + +<p>"Wow!" says I. "Who's playin' me for a goat now?"</p> + +<p>With that I turns and inspects the windows of the house I'd just passed, +knowin' it must be some kid gettin' gay with the passersby. There's no +signs of any cut-up concealed behind the lace curtains, though, and none +of the sashes was raised. If it hadn't been for the way things had been +comin' criss-cross at me, I suppose I'd wiped off my collar and gone +along, lettin' it pass as a joke; but I wa'n't feelin' very mirthful +just then. I'm ready to follow up anything in the trouble line; so I +steps into the area, drops my baggage, shins up over the side of the +front steps, and flattens myself against the off side of the vestibule +door. Then I waits.</p> + +<p>It ain't more'n a minute before I hears the door openin' cautious, and +all I has to do is shove my foot out and throw my weight against the +knob. Somebody lets out a howl of surprise, and in another minute I'm +inside, facin'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">180</a></span> a twelve-year-old kid armed with a green tin squirt gun. +He's one of these aristocratic-lookin' youngsters, with silky light +hair, big dark eyes, and a sulky mouth. Also he's had somethin' of a +scare thrown into him by being caught so unexpected; but some of his +nerve is still left.</p> + +<p>"You—you get out of here!" he snarls.</p> + +<p>"Not until you've had a dose of what you handed me, sonny," says I. +"Give it up now, Reggie boy!"</p> + +<p>"I won't!" says he. "I—I'll have you thrown out!"</p> + +<p>"You will, eh?" says I, makin' a rush for him.</p> + +<p>"O-o-o-oh, Aunty, Aunty!" he squeals, dashin' down the hall.</p> + +<p>Now, say, the way I was feelin' then, I'd have gone up against a whole +fam'ly, big brothers included; so a little thing like a call for Aunty +don't stop me at all. As he turns into the room on the left I'm only a +jump behind, and all that fetches me up is when he does a dive behind an +old lady in a big leather chair. She's a wide, heavy old party, with a +dinky white cap on her white hair, and kind of a resigned, patient look +on her face. Someway, she acts like she was more or less used to +surprises like this; for she don't seem much excited.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">181</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, Hadley!" she remarks. "Whatever is the matter now?"</p> + +<p>"He—he chased me into the house!" whines Master Hadley from behind the +chair.</p> + +<p>"Did you?" says the old girl.</p> + +<p>"Sure," says I. "He's too blamed fresh!"</p> + +<p>"There, there!" says she. "You mustn't speak that way of Hadley. He is +only a little boy, you know."</p> + +<p>"Yes'm," says I.</p> + +<p>"And he was only indulging in innocent play," she goes on. "Come, +Hadley, untie me now. Please, Hadley!"</p> + +<p>Say, I hadn't noticed it before, but the old girl is roped solid, feet +and arms, to the chair legs, and it's clear that when nobody was goin' +by for little Hadley to shoot at he'd been usin' Aunty for a target. The +damp spots on the wall behind the chair and one or two on her dress +showed that.</p> + +<p>"I won't, unless you'll call Maggie and have her throw him out!" growls +Hadley.</p> + +<p>"Oh, come, Hadley, be a good boy!" coaxes Aunty.</p> + +<p>"Sha'n't!" says Hadley. "And next time I'll shoot ink at you."</p> + +<p>"Now, Hadley!" protests Aunty.</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, lady," says I, "but it looks to me like there was something +comin' to Hadley that I ought to tend to. This ain't on my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">182</a></span> account, +either, but yours. Now watch. Hi, freshy!" and I makes another dash for +him.</p> + +<p>Well, he knows the lay of the land better'n I do, and he's quick on the +dodge, so we has a lively time of it for a couple of minutes, him +throwin' chairs in my way and hurdlin' sofas, Aunty beggin' us to quit +and callin' for Maggie, and me keepin' right on the job. But at last I +got him cornered. He makes a desp'rate duck and tries to butt me; but I +catches his head under my arm and down he goes on the rug. I'd just +yanked the squirt gun out of his hand and was emptyin' it down the back +of his neck, with him hollerin' blue murder, and Aunty strugglin' to get +loose, when the front door opens and in walks a couple of ladies, one +old and the other young.</p> + +<p>And, say, you talk about your excitin' tableaux! In about two shakes +there's all kinds of excitement; for it seems one of the new arrivals is +Hadley's mommer, and she proceeds to join the riot.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my darling boy! My darling!" she sings out. "What is happening! He +is being killed! Oh, he is being killed!"</p> + +<p>"G'wan!" says I, gettin' up and exhibitin' the squirt gun. "I was only +handin' him some of the same sport he's been dealin' out to others. +It'll do him good."</p> + +<p>"You—you young scoundrel!" says mommer.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">183</a></span> Then, turnin' to the old lady +who came in with her, she gasps out, "Zenobia, telephone for the +police!"</p> + +<p>It's the real thing, too, and no flossy bluff about the lady's grouch. +She's a swell, haughty-lookin' party, and she acts like she was used to +havin' her own way about things. So the prospects begin to look squally. +Not that I'm one to curl up and shiver at sight of a cop. Give me plenty +of room to do the hotfoot act, and I don't mind guyin' any of them +pavement-pounders; but with me shut up in a house where I hadn't been +invited in, and a bunch of excited females as witnesses against me, it's +a diff'rent proposition. This was no time to weaken, though.</p> + +<p>"Go ahead," says I. "Double six-O-four-two Gramercy; that's the green +light number for this district. And Uncle Patrick'll be glad to see you. +Tell him you got charges to make on his nephew. That'll tickle him to +death. Maybe I'll have something to say when we all get there, too."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" says Hadley's mother.</p> + +<p>"Counter complaint, that's all," says I. "Your little darling soaked me +first."</p> + +<p>"It—it isn't true!" says she. "I don't believe it!"</p> + +<p>And here Zenobia comes in with the soothin'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">184</a></span> advice. She's another +whitehaired old lady, lookin' something like the one in the chair, only +not so bulky and with more ginger about her. "Now, Sally," says she, +"let's not talk of calling in the police over a trifle. Hadley doesn't +appear to be hurt, and possibly he was somewhat at fault."</p> + +<p>"The idea!" says Sally. "Why, I saw this young ruffian pommeling him. +And look! Martha is bound in her chair. He's a burglar!"</p> + +<p>Oh, they had a great debate amongst 'em, Aunt Martha fin'lly admittin' +it was just a little prank of Hadley's, her being roped down; but she +was sure I had tried to murder him, just for nothing at all. Hadley says +so too. In fact, he tells seven diff'rent yarns in as many minutes, each +one makin' me out worse than the last.</p> + +<p>"There!" says his mother. "Now, Zenobia, will you send for an officer?"</p> + +<p>Nope, Zenobia wouldn't; anyway, not until she had more facts to go on. +She don't deny that maybe I'm kind of a suspicious-lookin' character, +and says it ain't been explained what I was doin' in there holdin' +little Hadley on the rug; but she don't want to ring up the cops unless +it's a clear case.</p> + +<p>"You know, my dear," she winds up with, "Hadley is quite apt to get into +trouble."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">185</a></span></p> + +<p>"Zenobia Preble!" snorts Sally, her eyes blazin'. "And he your own flesh +and blood! Come, precious, mother will take you home, and you shall +never, never come to this house again!"</p> + +<p>"There, Sally," begins Zenobia, "don't fly into a——"</p> + +<p>"When my husband's mother chooses to insult me in her own home," says +Sally, "I hope I have spirit enough to resent it!"</p> + +<p>Say, she had that and some left over. Inside of two minutes she's +hustled little Hadley into his things, and out they sails to her +carriage, leavin' the makin's of a first-class fam'ly row all prepared.</p> + +<p>In the meantime Zenobia is tyin' Aunt Martha loose, and I'm standin' +around waitin' to see what's goin' to happen to me next. Course, I +expects the third degree; but she begins with Martha.</p> + +<p>"Now what mischief was Hadley up to this time?" she asks.</p> + +<p>And Martha sticks to it that it was nothing at all. He merely found that +old plant-sprayer and discovered that by unscrewing the nozzle it made a +fine squirt gun. To be sure, she had asked him not to use the water from +the goldfish globe; but he just would. Also he'd insisted on locking all +the servants downstairs,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">186</a></span> and when she tried to amuse him in other ways +he'd tied her to the chair.</p> + +<p>But it was just Hadley's innocent fun. He hadn't harmed anyone, even if +he did squirt a little water on the postman and a delivery boy. She had +not minded it herself, and no one had been rude to him until I'd come +chasing in and handled him so rough. That was an outrage, and Martha +thought I ought to get a life sentence for it.</p> + +<p>"Humph!" says Zenobia, turnin' to me. "Now, young man, what have you got +to say?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, what's the use?" says I. "You've got the whole story now. I'd do +the same again."</p> + +<p>"Relying on the fact that your uncle is a police captain?" says she.</p> + +<p>"Nah," says I. "That was hot air."</p> + +<p>"There, Zenobia!" says Martha. "I told you he was a bad boy."</p> + +<p>"Are you?" says Zenobia.</p> + +<p>"Well," says I, "that all depends on how you size me up. I ain't in the +crook class, nor I don't wear any Sunday-school medals, either."</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" says she.</p> + +<p>"Why, just Torchy," says I. "See—torch, Torchy," and I points to my +sunset coiffure.</p> + +<p>"But who are your parents?" she goes on.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">187</a></span></p> + +<p>"Don't own any," says I. "I'm a double orphan and rustlin' for myself."</p> + +<p>"Where do you live?" says she.</p> + +<p>"Why," says I, "I don't live anywhere just now. I'm movin'; but I don't +know where to."</p> + +<p>"I suppose that is either impudence or epigram," says she; "but never +mind. Perhaps you will tell me where you work?"</p> + +<p>"I don't work at all," says I. "I'm head office boy for the Corrugated +Trust, and it's a cinch job."</p> + +<p>"Indeed!" says she. "The Corrugated Trust? Let me see, who is at the +head of that concern?"</p> + +<p>"Say," says I, "you don't mean you never heard of Old Hickory Ellins or +Mr. Robert, do you?"</p> + +<p>She kind of smiles at that; but dodges makin' any answer.</p> + +<p>"Well," says I, "do I get pinched, or just given the run? Either way, +I've got some baggage down by the area door that ought to be looked +after."</p> + +<p>"Why, certainly, I will have it——" then she stops and looks me over +sort of shrewd. "Suppose," she starts in again, "you go and get it +yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Sure!" says I, and it ain't until I'm outside that I sees this is just +her way of tryin'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">188</a></span> me out; for I has a fine chance to beat it. "Nix!" +thinks I. "I might as well see this thing through and get a decision." +So back I goes with the suitcase and laundry bag. She hadn't even +followed me to the door.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" says she, lookin' up. "You weren't afraid to come back, then. +Why?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I guess it was because I banked on your givin' me a square deal," +says I.</p> + +<p>That gets a grin out of her. "Thank you very much for the compliment," +says she. "I may say that the inquisition is over. However, I should +like to have you remain a little longer, if you care to. Won't you leave +your things in the hall there? Your hat and overcoat too."</p> + +<p>"Zenobia," says Martha, wakin' up, "surely you are not going to——"</p> + +<p>"Precisely," says Zenobia. "I am going to ask him to stay for dinner +with us. Will you?"</p> + +<p>"Yep!" says I. "I never let any free eats get by me."</p> + +<p>"But," gasps Martha, "you don't know who he is?"</p> + +<p>"Neither does he know us," says Zenobia. "Torchy, I am Mrs. Zenobia +Preble. This is my sister, Miss Martha Hadley. She is very good, I am +very wicked, and we are both women of mature years. You will probably +find our society rather dull; but the dinner is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">189</a></span> likely to be fairly +good. Besides, I am feeling somewhat indebted to you."</p> + +<p>"It's a go," says I, "if I can have a chance to wash up first."</p> + +<p>"Of course," says she. Then she gives me a key and directions how to +find a certain door on the third floor. "My son's quarters," she goes +on, "that I have kept just as he left them twenty years ago. I shall +expect you to make yourself quite at home there."</p> + +<p>Do I? Why, say, it's a bach joint such as you might dream about: two +rooms and bath across the front of the house, guns and swords and such +knickknacks on the walls, a desk, a lot of books, and even a bathrobe +and slippers laid out. Say, while I was scrubbin' off some of the +inkstains and smoothin' down my hair with the silver-backed brushes I +felt like a young blood gettin' ready for a party.</p> + +<p>Then after awhile I strolls down to the lib'ry and makes myself to home +some more. It's a comf'table place, with lots of big easy-chairs, nice +pictures on the wall, and no end of bookshelves. The old ladies has +cleared out, not even lockin' up any of the curios or sendin' a maid to +watch me.</p> + +<p>And when it comes to the feed—why, say, it's a reg'lar course dinner, +such as you'd put up a dollar for at any of these high-class table dotty +ranches. Funny old china they had too,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">190</a></span> and a big silver coffeepot right +on the table. The only bad break I makes is just at the start, when I +dives into the soup without noticin' that Aunt Martha has her head down +and is mumblin' something about bein' thankful.</p> + +<p>"Never mind," says Mrs. Preble. "We aren't included in this, anyway."</p> + +<p>That begins the talk. I ain't put through the wringer, you understand, +but just follows Zenobia while she goes from one thing to another, +givin' her opinions of 'em and now and then callin' for mine. We got +real chatty too, and once in awhile she stops to laugh real hearty, +though I couldn't see where I'd got off any crack at all.</p> + +<p>Near as I can make out, Zenobia is a lively old girl for her age. She's +seen all the best Broadway shows, knows what's goin' on in town, and +reads the papers reg'lar. Also it comes out that she don't follow the +kind of programme you generally look for antiques to stick to. She ain't +got any use for churches, charity institutions, society, or the +suffragettes. All of which seems to shock Sister Martha, who don't say +much, but only shudders now and then.</p> + +<p>"You see, Torchy," says Zenobia, droppin' two lumps into her demitasse, +"I am an unbeliever. I don't even believe in growing old. When I hear of +other persons who have come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">191</a></span> to disbelieve in established things, no +matter what, I send for them and find out all about it across the dinner +table. We discuss art, religion, politics, goodness knows what. We +denounce things, from the existing social order, to the tariff on +stockings. My sister, who believes in everything as it is, usually takes +a nap and snores."</p> + +<p>"Zenobia!" says Martha.</p> + +<p>"Oh, not in a disturbing way," says Zenobia. "And I'm sure I almost do +the same whenever your friend the rector is here. Torchy, have you ever +been talked to about your soul?"</p> + +<p>"Once when I drifted into a mission a guy sprung that on me," says I.</p> + +<p>"Yes?" says Zenobia. "What then?"</p> + +<p>"I told him to go chase himself," says I.</p> + +<p>Hearty chuckles from Zenobia, while Sister Martha turns pale and gasps.</p> + +<p>Next thing I know I'm tellin' Mrs. Preble about my fallin' out with +Mother Sykes, and how I guess I'd better be pikin' up to engage a +thirty-cent room until I can draw on my reserve and locate a new +boardin' place.</p> + +<p>And, say, what do you guess that conversation leads up to? Well, it +struck me all in a heap at the time, though I didn't let on; but I +couldn't figure out the answer until I'd had a talk with Mr. Robert next +day.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">192</a></span></p> + +<p>"Say, Mr. Robert," says I. "You don't happen to know an old party by the +name of Zenobia Preble, do you?"</p> + +<p>"I do," says he. "It isn't exactly an accident, either. She is a cousin +of my father."</p> + +<p>"Gee!" says I. "Cousin to the old—to the boss! Wh-e-ew!"</p> + +<p>"Rather an original old lady, Zenobia," says Mr. Robert. "And I +understand, from a talk I had with her over the 'phone early last +evening, that she was arbitrating the case of a young man who was in +some danger of arrest in her home. How did it come out, Torchy?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, say, you're on, ain't you?" says I. "Well, it was a verdict for the +defense, because I promised to do it again if I ever got the chance."</p> + +<p>Mr. Robert grins. "That grandson of hers is certainly a holy terror," +says he. "You and Zenobia parted friends, then?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet," says I. "We ain't parted at all. I'm stayin' as a trial +boarder."</p> + +<p>"What!" says he, sittin' up. "Oh, I see. An experiment in practical +sociology, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Maybe that's it," says I. "Anyway, it depends on whether or not I can +stand Aunt Martha."</p> + +<p>And when I leaves Mr. Robert he still has his mouth open.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">193</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2><h3>FIRST AID FOR THE MAIN STEM</h3> +</div> + +<p>Well, I ain't been adopted yet; but it's the next thing to it. Me and +Zenobia are gettin' to understand each other better every day. And, say, +for a ripe old party, she's younger in her mind than lots of folks I +know who ain't lived half so long. Maybe she did do her first travelin' +up and down Broadway in a horse stage; but that ain't the way she wants +to cover the ground now. What do you think she springs at the dinner +table the other night? Says she's goin' to the next aviation meet and +hire some one to take her up for an aëroplane ride.</p> + +<p>"Why, Zenobia!" says Sister Martha, so shocked her white frizzes almost +stand up and wiggle.</p> + +<p>That's Martha's cue, all right. She don't seem to get used to Zenobia's +ways, although they've been livin' together all these years. A genuine, +consistent antique, Sister Martha is, who still likes to talk about the +time when Horace Greeley ran for President. Accordin' to her +conversation the last real sensation that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">194</a></span> came her way was when she +went over to Brooklyn and heard Henry Ward Beecher preach.</p> + +<p>But even Martha ain't no worse when you get to know her. She's a +harmless, well meanin' old soul, and I'm 'most beginnin' to believe +she's pretty near as pious as she thinks she is. Anyway, it ain't any +Sunday pose with her. She lugs her religion right through the week, +holidays and all, and spreads it around even. I got it straight from +Zenobia that Martha's even begun ringin' me into her goodnight prayers, +along with the cook and the President.</p> + +<p>Also Martha has started in on what she calls my moral trainin', which +she dopes out as havin' been neglected somethin' shameful. Whenever +Zenobia ain't around to interrupt, I get a Jonah story, or a Sampson and +Delilah hair cuttin' yarn pumped into me, and if there ain't any cogs +missin' in her scheme I ought to be buddin' a soul before long.</p> + +<p>"Torchy," says she real solemn the other night, "I hope you do not use +profane language. Do you?"</p> + +<p>"Well," says I, "when I was on the Sunday editor's door I did used to +think I could put over a few gingery ones; but since I've been with the +Corrugated Trust I've kind of got out of practice."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" says she, beamin'. "That is good,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">195</a></span> very good! Your associations +are better; is that it?"</p> + +<p>"Mainly it's on account of Mr. Ellins," says I. "Maybe you never +happened to hear him; but, say, you ought to be there some mornin' when +he limps in with the gout in both feet and a hang-over grouch from the +day before! Cuss! Why, after listenin' to him grow real enthusiastic +once, I got discouraged. What's the use? thinks I."</p> + +<p>Well, someway that gives Martha an awful jolt; for maybe you remember my +tellin' how it turns out that her and Zenobia are second cousins to Old +Hickory. She says how she's pained and mortified beyond words to learn +that Mr. Ellins should allow his employees to hear him use such +language.</p> + +<p>"Ah, that's all right," says I. "As long as it ain't fired at 'em, +nobody feels bad. Mostly they grins, except now and then a new lady +typewriter who squirms and turns pale. He don't whisper when he's +cussin', Mr. Ellins don't."</p> + +<p>"Shocking!" says Sister Martha. "Does—does he do this often?"</p> + +<p>"It all depends on how he's feelin'," says I; "but for the past week or +ten days he's been at it pretty reg'lar. I expect he's been havin' a +worse siege than usual."</p> + +<p>Oh, me and Martha had a real heart to heart<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">196</a></span> talk that night, and when I +fin'lly goes up to my top floor suite I leaves her fannin' herself and +gaspin' for breath. But she'd asked for facts, and I'd handed 'em over. +How was I to guess what was goin' to be the follow up on that?</p> + +<p>Not expectin' anything more'n instructions about some errand or other, I +ain't any disturbed when Piddie comes up to the gate desk right after +lunch next day, lookin' as stern and solemn as if he'd been sent to read +a warrant.</p> + +<p>"Boy," says he, "Mr. Ellins, senior, wishes to see you in his private +office!"</p> + +<p>"Well, that ain't surprisin', is it, Piddie?" says I. "You don't suppose +we can talk over big affairs like ours out here, do you? Keep your ear +off the keyhole, too!" And with that I goes in chipper and cheerful.</p> + +<p>The minute I gets through the last door, though, I feels the frost in +the air. Mr. Ellins, he lets me wait long enough for the chill to strike +in, while he signs a basketful of letters. Then he swings around in his +swivel chair and proceeds to size me up through them gunmetal gray eyes +of his. Say, it was like standin' in front of a searchlight and under a +cold shower, all at once.</p> + +<p>"So, young man!" says he. "You have been hearing me swear, eh?"</p> + +<p>That's enough for me. Just from that I can<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">197</a></span> sketch the whole plot. And +it don't take me a month to figure out the line of talk I'm goin' to +use. What's the sense in playin' for time when your blue ticket's all +made out.</p> + +<p>"Heard you?" says I. "Think I wear my ears full of putty?"</p> + +<p>"Huh!" he grunts. "And do I understand that you disapprove of my +profanity?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, who's been fillin' you up?" says I. "Why, you're an artist at it."</p> + +<p>"Thanks," says he. "And I suppose you felt it your duty to inform my +relatives of the fact? Very thoughtful of you, I'm sure."</p> + +<p>"Don't mention it," says I.</p> + +<p>"You—you're an impertinent young whelp!" says he, his cheeks gettin' +purple and puffy.</p> + +<p>"Ah, don't mind the frills," says I. "Get out the can. I'm fired, ain't +I?"</p> + +<p>"No!" he shouts, bangin' his fist down on the desk. "At least, not until +I get through with you. What I want to know is why in blue belted blazes +you did it!"</p> + +<p>"Well," says I, "first off I guess it just naturally slipped out; then, +when I saw what a hit I was makin' with Martha—why, I expect I sort of +enjoyed givin' her the details."</p> + +<p>Somehow, that seems to graze his funnybone, and he has a struggle to +keep a grin out of his mouth corners. "Humph!" says he. "I—I'd<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">198</a></span> like to +have seen her then. So you went on to describe the general state of my +health, did you?"</p> + +<p>"It was you we was chattin' about," says I.</p> + +<p>"Fascinating topic, I've no doubt," he growls; "but I hardly appreciate +the attention. Understand?"</p> + +<p>"That's breakin' on me gradual," says I.</p> + +<p>"Fortunately for you, though," he goes on, "you didn't attempt to lie +out of it. By the way, why didn't you?"</p> + +<p>"And her just after givin' you the whole game over the 'phone?" says I. +"Ah, say!"</p> + +<p>"Young man," says he, shootin' over the quizzin' gaze, "either you are +too blickety blinked fresh to keep, or else you're too keen to lose; +hanged if I know which! But—er—well, I'll take a chance. You may go +out and report to Mr. Piddie for duty."</p> + +<p>"It'll near break his heart," says I.</p> + +<p>It does, too. I expect from what he'd heard in the private office that +he was figurin' on handin' me my hat as I was shot out and remarkin' +that he knew all along it was comin' to me. Then there'd be a rollcall +of new office boys, with him pickin' out one more to his taste than me. +But no such luck for him.</p> + +<p>"Cheer up, Piddie," says I. "I'll have the warden send you an invitation +when they fin'lly get me right."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">199</a></span></p> + +<p>Course, I don't make any squeal at the house about my narrow escape; for +I knew Martha only meant it for the best. Next day Mr. Ellins don't show +up at the office at all, and that evenin' Martha is better posted on his +condition than I am. She's been busy on the wire again, this time +locatin' him at home.</p> + +<p>"My poor cousin," says she, "is in a wretched state. He has been +overworking, I fear, and seems to be a nervous wreck. That will account, +I have no doubt, for his recent lapses into profanity. He feels rather +ashamed of himself; but perhaps I should make allowances. What he needs +is rest and quiet. Luckily, I happened to know just the place for him +and was able to persuade him to go there at once. He started this +afternoon."</p> + +<p>It's called the Wesley Restorium, Martha says, and is run by an old +friend of hers who used to be a missionary doctor in China. He's an +awfully good man, and she's sure he'll help Mr. Ellins a lot. Besides, +his place is only about fifty miles off, over in North Jersey; so Mr. +Ellins could make the run easy in his limousine.</p> + +<p>Well, that leaves only Mr. Robert, Piddie, and me to manage the +Corrugated, and we was all bearin' up under the load well enough except +Piddie; when along about two o'clock there's a long distance call from +the Main Stem, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">200</a></span> a few minutes later Mr. Robert sends out for me.</p> + +<p>"Torchy," says he, "you seem to be elected. The governor wants you."</p> + +<p>"Me?" says I.</p> + +<p>"Yes," says Mr. Robert. "I don't exactly understand why. He is at a +sanatorium, you know, and we had arranged to send up his private +secretary with the important mail this afternoon; but he says he wants +you. Says you're responsible for his being there—whatever that means."</p> + +<p>"I'm on," says I. "When do I start?"</p> + +<p>There's a train at three-thirty-four; so that gives me time to chase +around to the house after a grip, then back to the office to gather up a +bundle of late letters, and pike for Jersey City. And at that it's five +o'clock before I'm landed at a little flag station umpteen miles beyond +nowhere. My! but the north end of Jersey has some up and down to it, +though! From what I'd heard I thought the State was all meadows; but +here I am carted in a four-horse bus up the side of a hill that's twice +as tall as the Metropolitan tower.</p> + +<p>Say, I never saw so much country spread out all at once before—nothing +but hills and trees, and no signs of houses anywhere. Made me so blamed +lonesome lookin' at it that I had to shut my eyes for a spell. And when +we gets to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">201</a></span> top there's a big shack like a new set of car barns, +with hundreds of windows, and big wide veranda all around. It looks as +homy and cheerful as the Art Museum. The lawn is full of rocks and +stumps, and the few little flowerbeds that have been laid out looked +lost and homesick.</p> + +<p>Pacin' up and down the verandas, like animals in a cage, was about fifty +people, and over at one end, all by himself, looms up Old Hickory, +lookin' big and ugly and disgusted with life.</p> + +<p>"Well!" he growls. "So you got here, eh? Hope you like it as well as I +do. Bring that mail inside."</p> + +<p>While he's more or less grouchy, he don't act any more like a nervous +wreck than usual. I take it that he was some tired when he got up here +night before; but that he cut out dinner and turned in for a good +twelve-hour snooze instead. Then he's had a quiet day, and I judge he +was a lot better already.</p> + +<p>He's just got well into his letters, when an attendant guy in a white +duck uniform steps in and taps him on the shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Well?" says Old Hickory.</p> + +<p>"Vesper service is beginning in the chapel, sir," says the gent.</p> + +<p>"Let it begin, then," says Mr. Ellins.</p> + +<p>"But," says the gent, "it is usual for guests to——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">202</a></span></p> + +<p>"It isn't for me!" snaps Mr. Ellins. "You get out!"</p> + +<p>And the gent got out.</p> + +<p>We could hear 'em singin' hymns and so on for half an hour; but Mr. +Ellins keeps right on goin' through his mail and makin' notes on the +envelops until six o'clock, when a big gong rings.</p> + +<p>"Thank heaven! Dinner!" says he. "Come on, Torchy; I'm hungry enough to +eat a bale of hay!" Then he's hardly got into his chair in the dinin' +room before he's snapping his fingers for a waiter. "Hey!" he sings out. +"Bring me a dry Martini right away, and a pint of Château Yquem with the +fish."</p> + +<p>"Excuse me," says the waiter, "but there isn't anything like that on the +bill of fare. If it's something to drink you want, you can order +buttermilk, which is extra."</p> + +<p>"Buttermilk!" snorts Old Hickory. "Say, where's the proprietor? Send him +over here!"</p> + +<p>He didn't have to call him twice; for the boss of the Restorium had +heard the row and was glidin' our way as fast as his rubber heels would +let him. He's a short legged, pop eyed, red faced party, wearin' cute +white side whiskers, a black Prince Albert, and a minister's necktie.</p> + +<p>"Gently, gently," says he, pattin' the air<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">203</a></span> with his hands and puckering +his mouth. "Remember to speak softly in the dining room."</p> + +<p>"All right, Doc," says Mr. Ellins; "but I want a cocktail."</p> + +<p>"Tut, tut, brother!" says the Doc, liftin' a warnin' finger and raisin' +his eyebrows. "No intoxicating liquors served here, you know. Now a +glass of nice buttermilk is just what——"</p> + +<p>"Bah! Buttermilk!" snorts Hickory. "Think I come from a dairy?"</p> + +<p>The Doc does his best to soothe him down and fin'lly persuades him to +tackle his mutton broth without the Martini. It's a good enough feed; +but kind of plain, about what you'd get in one of these Eighth-ave. +joints, four courses for thirty-five cents. Mr. Ellins gets left again +when he calls for a demitasse after the tapioca pudding. Nothing doing +in the coffee line.</p> + +<p>"Huh!" he grunts. "I suppose I may smoke, eh?"</p> + +<p>"On the north veranda, from seven until eight-fifteen," says the waiter.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll be—blistered!" says Old Hickory.</p> + +<p>While he's burnin' a couple of black perfectos out on the smoke +reservation, I roams around the Restorium. It's furnished neat and +simple, with lots of varnished woodwork and a few framed railroad photos +on the walls. In the parlor was four or five groups of women<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">204</a></span> in rockin' +chairs, talkin' low and doin' fancy-work. Most of the men were tiptoein' +up and down the veranda. They was a stoop shouldered, dyspeptic lookin' +lot. Down in the basement in a place labeled "Recreation Room," a couple +of checker games was in progress, and four gents was shovin' weights up +and down the shuffleboard. Yes, it was a perfectly good place to be +quiet in. I could guess why Hickory Ellins had begun to show signs of +bein' restless. By eight o'clock he comes marchin' in and up to the +office desk.</p> + +<p>"Where's the billiard room?" says he.</p> + +<p>"There is no billiard room, brother," says the Doc, steppin' to the +front. "Here we have eliminated all of those things that might disturb +our beautiful peace and quiet."</p> + +<p>"Have, eh?" grunts Hickory. "Then where can I find three others to make +up a bridge game?"</p> + +<p>"Card playing," says the Doc, putting his thumb and forefingers +together, "is not allowed in the Restorium."</p> + +<p>"Sorrowing sisters by the sea!" remarks Mr. Ellins. "No billiards! No +cards! Say, what the merry Mithridates do you think I'm going to do with +myself from now until twelve o'clock, eh?"</p> + +<p>"By referring to the rules of this establishment, Mr. Ellins," says the +Doc, speakin' cold<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">205</a></span> and reprovin', "you will see that the general +retiring hour is fixed at nine-thirty. At nine-forty-five the gas is all +turned off."</p> + +<p>"What!" roars Hickory. "Think you're going to put me to bed at +nine-thirty?"</p> + +<p>"You are at liberty to sit up in the dark, if you choose," the Doc comes +back at him. "Any guest who is dissatisfied with the manner in which the +Restorium is conducted has the option of leaving."</p> + +<p>"Well, say!" says Mr. Ellins, thumpin' the desk earnest, "I am +dissatisfied! Buttermilk and vesper services! Huh! Do you suppose I've +paid two weeks in advance for such a dose? Where's your 'phone?"</p> + +<p>With that he calls up New York, gets his chauffeur on the wire, and +orders him to have the car here first thing in the morning, even if he +has to start before light.</p> + +<p>"And what is more," says Mr. Ellins, walkin' back to the Doc, "I propose +to buy the rest of this hill and open a real live hotel as close to your +place as I can put it. There'll be something going on in it all the +time, if I have to make everything free, and you can bet your last +dollar the wine list will have something besides buttermilk on it! +There'll be billiard tables, bowling alleys, a dance hall, and a brass +band playing all night. I'll fix your beautiful peace and quiet for +you!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">206</a></span></p> + +<p>The Doc, he smiles a kind of sanctified smile and points to the clock. +"In just forty-five minutes," says he, "the lights go out."</p> + +<p>That's all the satisfaction Mr. Ellins gets, too; so he takes me in tow +and we beat it 'steen times around the verandas, him stating his +opinions of restoriums in general, Cousin Martha in partic'lar, and now +and then shootin' a sarcastic remark at me. But when he sees the other +victims begin sneakin' off one by one he growls out:</p> + +<p>"Well, son, I suppose they'll be locking us out if we don't follow suit. +Get the keys to our rooms."</p> + +<p>First off I thought I could have a great snooze; but it's such a blamed +quiet place that I found myself wide awake, with my ear strained to see +if I couldn't hear something. After an hour or so of that, I gets up and +sits by the open window; but as there ain't any moon or any street +lights, it's like starin' down a coalhole.</p> + +<p>I was wondering if the country was always as black as that at night, and +what would happen to anyone that strayed out into it, when all of a +sudden I hears a window raised, and way down in the basement under the +dining room I sees a bright light shinin' out. "Hello!" thinks I. "Some +of the help must be bustin' the rules and regulations."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">207</a></span></p> + +<p>By leanin' out and rubberin' I could look down into the room. And, say, +the shock almost tumbled me out. For there's the Doc sittin' in his +shirtsleeves with four other gents around a green topped table decorated +with stacks of chips. The Doc is just dealin', and before the shade is +pulled down again I had time to see him reach under the lower deck and +haul up a decanter that might have been full of cold tea.</p> + +<p>Well, say, I don't do a thing but hustle into my clothes and chase down +the corridor to Mr. Ellins' room. Is he int'rested in the tale? He's all +of that.</p> + +<p>"Torchy," says he, "if you can lead me down to that game, I—I'll +forgive you. Perhaps I'll do better than that."</p> + +<p>I used up half a box of matches findin' the way; but at last we located +the light comin' through the transom.</p> + +<p>"Good work!" he whispers. "Now you go back to bed and enjoy a long +night's rest."</p> + +<p>Sure I did—not. I wouldn't have missed hearin' that exchange of happy +greetin's for a farm. And the way the Doc chokes up and splutters tryin' +to explain things was somethin' lovely. He was gettin' himself as +twisted as a pretzel, when Old Hickory breaks in.</p> + +<p>"That's all right, Doc," says he. "Innocent little relaxation. I +understand perfectly. Now, what's the ante?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">208</a></span></p> + +<p>Well, after that the conversation wasn't so excitin'; nothing but, "I'll +take three cards," or "Raise you two more blues." So I sneaks back and +falls into the hay once more.</p> + +<p>At breakfast Mr. Ellins shows up more smilin' and chipper than I'd ever +seen him anywhere before. He puts away three soft boiled eggs, a couple +of lamb chops, and two cups of coffee made special for him. The Doc he +follows us out to the limousine.</p> + +<p>"Sorry to have you go so soon, Mr. Ellins," says he, rubbin' one hand +over the other, "very sorry indeed, sir. And—er—about those memoranda +from my assistants. I will see that they are redeemed, you know."</p> + +<p>"Those I O U's?" says Mr. Ellins. "Oh, you tell the boys I tore 'em up. +Yours, too, Doctor. I had my fun out of the game. So long."</p> + +<p>And for the next four miles Old Hickory don't do much but gaze out on +the landscape and chuckle.</p> + +<p>"Was that a bluff about buildin' that hotel?" says I after awhile.</p> + +<p>"Well," says Mr. Ellins, "not exactly; but I think I shall present the +Restorium with a pipe organ instead."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">209</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2><h3>IN ON THE OOLONG</h3> +</div> + +<p>Course it was a cinch; but Piddie ain't got done wonderin' yet how I did +it. I can tell that by the puzzled way he has of lookin' me over when he +thinks I ain't noticin'.</p> + +<p>You see, we'd been havin' a quiet week at the Corrugated. This fine +spell of weather has braced Old Hickory up until he almost forgets how +he's cast himself for the great grouch collector. Things must have been +runnin' smooth, too; for he can even read about the Return from Elba +plans without chuckin' the mornin' paper into the waste basket and +gettin' purple behind the ears.</p> + +<p>Then, all of a sudden here the other afternoon, Piddie comes trottin' +out of the private office all flustered up and begins pawin' excited +through the big bond safe. He's hardly got started at that before there +comes three rings on the buzzer for him, and he trots back to see what +the old man wants now. Next there are hurry calls for the general +auditor and the head of the contract department, and before Mr. Ellins<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">210</a></span> +gets through he's had every chief in the shop up on the carpet and put +'em through the third degree. Way out by my gate I could hear him layin' +down the law to 'em, and they comes out lookin' wild and worried.</p> + +<p>Which don't get me excited any at all. I worked in the newspaper office +too long and saw too many Sunday editions go to press for that. So when +I hears him yell for me I don't jump over the desk and get goose flesh +up the back. I keeps right on snappin' rubber bands at the spring water +bottle until he's shouted a couple more times. Then I winks at the row +of lady typists and strolls in, calm and easy.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir?" says I.</p> + +<p>"See here, boy!" says he. "Do you happen by any chance to know where +that son of mine might be found at this moment?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Robert?" says I. "Nix."</p> + +<p>"No, of course you don't!" says Old Hickory, glarin' at me. "No one +around this precious asylum for undeveloped cerebellums seems to know +anything they ought to. Bah!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," says I.</p> + +<p>"Don't grin at me that way!" he snaps. "Get out! No, stay where you are! +If you don't know where Robert is, where do you think he might be +found?"</p> + +<p>"Tried any of his clubs?" says I.</p> + +<p>He had, all of 'em. Also he'd had him paged<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">211</a></span> through four hotel grill +rooms and called up three brokers' offices.</p> + +<p>"Well, if he ain't havin' a late lunch, or playin' billiards, or +watchin' the stock board, I give it up," says I. "Maybe you've noticed +that Mr. Robert ain't been in many afternoons lately."</p> + +<p>"Huh! Perhaps I haven't, though!" grunts Old Hickory. "But this time it +is important that he should be here. Young man, you seem to have less +wool on your wits than most of the office force; so I am going to +confide to you that unless we find Robert before four-thirty o'clock +this afternoon the Corrugated Trust Company will lose a lot of money."</p> + +<p>"Oh, if it's a case of savin' the next dividend," says I, "I'll take +another think. I expect you asked for him at the house?"</p> + +<p>"He was there at one-fifteen and left twenty minutes later," says Mr. +Ellins.</p> + +<p>"Yes; but what kind of clothes was he wearin'?" says I.</p> + +<p>"Clothes!" snorts out Old Hickory. "What the blithering——"</p> + +<p>"Lemme ask his man," says I, grabbin' the desk 'phone. "Plaza—yes, +Plaza, double O double three sixty-one. Sure! You got it. Say, Mr. +Ellins, that butler of yours don't burn the carpet movin' fast, does he? +He must——Hello! I want to talk to Walters. Ah, never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">212</a></span> mind who I am, +switch him on!" And inside of two minutes I have the report. "Frock coat +and silk lid," says I. "See? Society date."</p> + +<p>"Huh!" says the old man. "That settles it. He's tagging around after +that young lady violinist again. Might have guessed; for since she's +come back from Paris he has taken about as much interest in business as +a cat does in astronomy. But to-morrow morning we'll——"</p> + +<p>"Say," I breaks in, "if it's a case of young lady, why not locate her +and then scout for Mr. Robert in the neighborhood? That ought to be +easy."</p> + +<p>"Think so?" says he. "Well, young man, you have my permission to tackle +the job. Her name is Inez Webster. I don't know where she lives, or with +whom she's staying; but she's somewhere in New York. Now, how will you +begin?"</p> + +<p>"By rubberin' at Mr. Robert's date pad," says I.</p> + +<p>"Good!" says Old Hickory. "No one else thought of that," and he leads +the way in and unlocks Mr. Robert's rolltop. "Now what do those +scratches mean?"</p> + +<p>"I. W. 2:15," says I, readin' it off. "The arrow points to Inez. He must +be with her now."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">213</a></span></p> + +<p>"Wherever that is!" growls Mr. Ellins. "Go on."</p> + +<p>"Say, lemme think a minute," says I, slippin' into the swing chair and +doin' the Sherlock gaze at the desk.</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly!" says he, snappy and sarcastic. "Take a nap over it! +Plenty of time!" and with that he pads back into his office and slams +the door.</p> + +<p>Now I didn't like pawin' through the pigeon-holes or drawers; but when I +happens to glance at the waste basket I feels more at home. In a jiffy I +has it dumped on the rug. There was an empty cigarette box, the usual +collection of circulars, a dozen torn business letters, and so on. It +looked like a hopeless hunt, too, until I runs across this invitation +card announcin' that the Misses Pulsifer will be at home from +two-fifteen until five-thirty. There's a Fort Washington Road address, +and down in one corner it says "music." Also to-day's the day.</p> + +<p>"Whoop!" says I, stowin' away the card. "Me for the Misses Pulsifers' on +a long shot. Hey, Mr. Ellins!" I shouts, stickin' my head in the door. +"Can I draw two bones for expense money? I'm on the trail."</p> + +<p>"The blazes you are!" says he.</p> + +<p>"Yep," says I. "Mebbe it's a false scent; but if I find him what's the +message?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">214</a></span></p> + +<p>"Just ask Robert," says he, "if it has occurred to him that those P. K. +& Q. contract copies have got to be filed with the bonding company this +afternoon. That's all."</p> + +<p>"Right!" says I. "P. K. & Q. contracts. I'm off."</p> + +<p>Ever get as far up into the northwest corner of the island as Fort +Washington Road? Then you know how many blocks it is from the nearest +subway station. Not havin' time for a half-hour stroll, I takes a +Broadway express, jumps it at 157th, hunts up a taxi, and turns down the +red flag.</p> + +<p>"Now don't try zigzaggin' around to roll up mileage," says I to the +shuffer; "but beat it straight there."</p> + +<p>Some swell places up in that neck of Manhattan, what? Why, some of them +folks has so much back yard they keep their own cow. When we rolls in +through a pair of big stone gates I begin to suspect that the Misses +Pulsifers was lady plutes for fair, and the size of the house had me +stunned.</p> + +<p>"I'm swell lookin' front door comp'ny, I am," thinks I, handin' over a +dollar thirty to the taxi pirate and paradin' in across the red carpet. +"Now what is it I tell the butler when he pushes out his tray?"</p> + +<p>All the guard they has on the door, though, is a French maid, and when +she starts to look<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">215</a></span> me over suspicious I shoves the invitation card at +her.</p> + +<p>"Say, Marie," says I, "where's the doin's?"</p> + +<p>"Pardon?" says she. "What you wish?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, where do they keep the music?" says I.</p> + +<p>"Ze musicale?" says she. "It is commence. S-s-s-sh!" and she points down +the hallway.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I was afraid I'd be late," says I. "Glad they didn't wait. I'll +sneak into a back seat."</p> + +<p>Did I? Well, say, I didn't know what I was runnin' into; for as I pushes +through some draperies I finds myself on the side lines of the biggest +herd of girls I ever saw collected in one room before. Why, there was +rows and rows of 'em, all in white dresses, and the minute I steps in +about two hundred pairs of eyes revolves my way.</p> + +<p>Talk about jumpin' into the limelight! I felt like I'd wandered out on +the stage while the big scene was goin' on. Then comes the giggles, and +business with the elbows of passin' the nudge along. They all forgets +what's doin' up on the platform by the piano and pays strict attention +to me. Blush? Say, I'll bet my ears ain't got back their reg'lar color +yet!</p> + +<p>Seemed like my feet was stuck to the floor, too. Maybe it was an hour I +stood there, and maybe it was only a minute; but at last I takes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">216</a></span> one +wild look around over that girl convention and then I backs out. I'd +seen him, though. Way over by an open window on the other side was Mr. +Robert, one of the four men in that whole crowd. So out the front door I +rushes and then tiptoes around the veranda until I came to him.</p> + +<p>And he wa'n't gazin' around watchin' for casual butters-in. Not Mr. +Robert! All he's seein' is the slim young lady standin' up on the +platform with the violin tucked under her chin. You couldn't blame him +much, either; for, while I ain't any judge of the sort of music she was +teasin' out of the strings, I'll say this much: The way she was doin' it +was well worth watchin'. The swing of that elbow of hers, and the +Isadora Duncan sway of her shoulders as she hits the high notes sure did +have some class to it. He's so busy followin' her motions that he don't +even know when I leans in within six inches of him and whispers. So I +has to give him the gentle prod.</p> + +<p>"Eh!" says he, whirlin' around. "Why, what the—Torchy!"</p> + +<p>"Uh-huh," says I. "Crawl out backwards, can't you?"</p> + +<p>"Wha—what's that!" says he, whisperin' sort of husky.</p> + +<p>"You got to do it," says I. "I was sent up special to get you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">217</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, what's the matter?" says he.</p> + +<p>"P. K. & Q. contracts," says I. "Did you file 'em yet?"</p> + +<p>"By Jove, no!" he groans under his breath. "I—I forgot."</p> + +<p>"Then it's a case of beat it," says I.</p> + +<p>"But—but I can't!" says Mr. Robert. "I can't possibly leave now, right +in the middle of——"</p> + +<p>"That's so," says I. "She's lookin' this way now. But where'd you stow +the contracts? Remember that, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course," says he. "Third left hand drawer of my desk, in a +document box."</p> + +<p>"'S enough!" says I. "I'll 'phone down and tell 'em. They'll fix it up. +Don't move; she's lookin' your way again."</p> + +<p>"Wait!" says he, behind his hand. "I must see you before you go back, +after the concert is over. Wait for me in the garden."</p> + +<p>"In the garden, Maud, it is," says I, and with that I slides back to the +front entrance and gets Marie to lead me to the 'phone booth.</p> + +<p>Well, I'd got the joint all sized up now. It's one of these swell +boardin' schools for girls, where they take piano lessons and are +exposed to French and the German measles. And, now my knees has quit +wabblin' and I was safe out of the hall, I was almost glad I'd come up +and give the young ladies such a treat. I couldn't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">218</a></span> help admirin' Mr. +Robert's nerve, though; for he must have known what he was lettin' +himself in for when he follows Inez up there. But when they get it that +bad there's no tellin' how reckless they'll be.</p> + +<p>If it had been all the same to Mr. Robert, my next move would have been +to get away from the spot as quick as my feet would let me; but so long +as he'd assigned me a waiting part that's what it had to be. With +Marie's help I finds the garden out at the back of the house and makes +myself comf'table on a rustic seat. It's a flossy garden scene, all +right, with winding paths, and flowerbeds, and cute little summer +houses, and all sorts of bushes in bloom. Now and then I could hear +music driftin' out, and when a piece was through the hand clappin' would +commence, like a shower on a tin roof.</p> + +<p>Say, it had sittin' behind the brass rail in the office beat to a froth, +and I was enjoyin' it, lazy and comf'table, with my feet up on the bench +and my head back; when all at once there's a big spasm of applause, the +doors openin' on the back veranda are swung open, everybody starts +chatterin' together, there's a swish and a rustle and a clatter of high +heels; and the next thing I knew the whole blamed garden was full of +'em.</p> + +<p>Girls! Say, all the fifty-seven varieties was represented,—tall ones, +short ones, thin ones,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">219</a></span> plump ones, and plain fatties. There was +aristocratic brunettes, and dimpled blondes, and every shade between. +They ranged from fourteen up, and they sported all kinds of hair +dressin', from double pleated braids to the latest thing in turban +swirls. And there was little Willie, hemmed in by a twelve-foot wall on +three sides and solid squads of girls on the fourth!</p> + +<p>First they began sailin' by in groups of twos and threes and fours, all +givin' me the goo-goo stare and snickerin'. Honest, you'd thought I was +some kind of a humorous curiosity, specially exhibited for the occasion. +Ain't they the limit, though? And the whispered remarks they passed! +"Why, Madge! Aren't you just killing! Whose brother did you say you +thought——Yes, and so curly, too!"</p> + +<p>I try to forget that red thatch of mine most of the time; but this was +no place to practice bein' absent minded. It didn't seem to make any +diff'rence whether I put my hat on or left it off, they were wise to the +ruddy hair. All I could do was to squeeze myself into one corner of the +seat and pretend not to notice 'em. What I wanted most was to stand up +and holler for Mr. Robert. Why in blazes didn't he show up, anyway?</p> + +<p>I'd been enjoyin' this gen'ral inspection stunt for four or five +minutes, when maids begun circulatin'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">220</a></span> among the mob with trays of +sandwiches and plates of chicken salad, and every last one of 'em +stopped at my station.</p> + +<p>"No, thanks," says I. Think I wanted to give a food destroyin' +performance before an audience like that? I was just wavin' away the +fourth offer of picnic grub when I hears a little squeal come from a +bunch of new recruits, and when I looks up to see what's happening +now—well, you'd never guess. It's Miss Vee! You know, the pink and +white queen I was tellin' you about meetin' at the swell dancin' class +where I subbed for Izzie in the cloakroom and was invited out to join +the merry throng.</p> + +<p>She ain't got the ballroom costume on, of course; but I'd know them big +gray eyes and that straw colored hair and that sweet pea complexion in +any disguise. For a second she stands there gazin' at me sort of +surprised and puzzled, like she didn't know whether to give me the nod +or just put up her chin and sail by. If I could I'd looked the other +way, so's to give her a chance to duck recognizin' me; but I couldn't do +anything but stare back. And the next thing I knew she's comin' straight +for me.</p> + +<p>"Why, Torchy!" says she, sort of purry and confidential. "You!" And +blamed if she wa'n't holdin' out both hands.</p> + +<p>Well, say, you can't imagine what a diff'rence that makes to me. It was +like fallin' off<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">221</a></span> a roof and landin' in a hammock. What did I care for +that push of young lady fluffs then?</p> + +<p>"Sure thing, it's me," says I, grabbin' the hands before she could +change her mind. "Say, have a seat, won't you, Miss Vee?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, then you haven't forgotten?" says she.</p> + +<p>"Me? Forget?" says I. "Say, Miss Vee, I'll keep right on rememberin' +that spiel we had together until breathin' goes out of fashion—and then +some! Gee! but I'm glad you happened along!"</p> + +<p>"But how is it," says she, "that you——"</p> + +<p>"Special commission," says I. "I'm waitin' here for Mr. Robert Ellins."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" says she. "And have you had some salad and sandwiches?"</p> + +<p>"No; but I'm ready for 'em now," says I. "That is, if——Say, you don't +mind doin' this, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Why should I?" says she.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well," says I, "you see I ain't—well, I'm kind of outclassed here, +and I didn't know but some of the other girls might——"</p> + +<p>"Let them dare!" says Miss Vee, straightenin' up and glancin' around +haughty. My! but she's a thoroughbred! There was one group standin' a +little way off watchin' us; but that look of Miss Vee's scattered 'em as +though<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">222</a></span> she'd turned the hose on them. Next minute she was smilin' +again. "You see," she goes on, sittin' close, "I'm not much afraid."</p> + +<p>"You're a hummer, you are!" says I, lookin' her over approvin'.</p> + +<p>"There, there!" says she. "I see that you must have something to eat +right away. Here, Hortense! There! Now you'll have a cup of tea, won't +you?"</p> + +<p>"Anything you pass out goes with me," says I, "even to tea."</p> + +<p>It was my first offense in the oolong line, and, honest, I couldn't tell +now how it tasted; but I knew all about how Vee handles a cup and +saucer, though, and the way she has of lookin' at you over the rim. Say, +she's the only girl I ever knew who could talk more'n a minute to a +feller without the aid of giggles. There's some sense to what she has to +say, too, and all the way you can tell whether she's joshin' or not is +by watchin' her eyes. And me, I wa'n't losin' any tricks.</p> + +<p>She tells me all about how she's been to school here ever since she was +a little girl. Seems she's as shy on parents as I am; but she has an +aunt that she lives with between school terms. This is her finishin' +year, and as soon as the final doin's are over she and Aunty are due to +sail for Europe.</p> + +<p>"Coming back in September?" says I.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">223</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, no indeed!" says she. "Perhaps not for two years."</p> + +<p>"Gee!" says I.</p> + +<p>"Well?" says she, and I finds myself lookin' square into them big gray +eyes of hers.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing," says I; "only—only it sounds a long ways off. And, say, +you don't happen to have a spare photo, do you, maybe one taken in that +dress you wore the night of the ball?"</p> + +<p>"Silly!" says she. "But suppose I have?"</p> + +<p>"Why," says I,—"why, I thought—well, say, it wouldn't do any harm to +leave my new address, would it! That's the number, care of Mrs. Zenobia +Preble."</p> + +<p>"Zenobia!" says she. "Why, I know who she is. Do you live with——"</p> + +<p>"I'm half adopted already," says I. "Bully old girl, ain't she? And say, +Miss Vee——"</p> + +<p>It was just about then I had the feelin' that some one was tryin' to +butt in on this two-part dialogue of ours, and as I looks up, sure +enough there's Mr. Robert, with his eyes wide and his mouth half open, +watchin' us.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's all over," says I. "Mr. Robert's waitin' for me. Good luck +and—and——Oh, what's the use? Give my regards to Europe, will you? +Good-by!" And with that we shakes hands and I breaks away.</p> + +<p>"I don't wish to seem curious," says Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">224</a></span> Robert, as we walks out to his +cab, "but—er—is this something recent?"</p> + +<p>"Not very," says I. "We've met before."</p> + +<p>"Then allow me," says he, "to congratulate you on your good taste."</p> + +<p>"Thanks!" says I. "Same to you; and I ain't got so much on you at that, +eh?"</p> + +<p>We drops the subject there; but Mr. Robert seems so pleased over +something or other that we'd gone twenty blocks before he remembers what +brought me up.</p> + +<p>"Oh, by the way," says he, "I suppose there'll be no end of row about my +forgetting to send down those contracts. The Governor was wild, wasn't +he?"</p> + +<p>"He was wild, all right," says I, "without knowin' whether you'd forgot +'em or not."</p> + +<p>"But when you 'phoned him," says Mr. Robert, "of course he——"</p> + +<p>"Ah, say!" says I. "Do I look like a trouble hunter? I 'phoned +Piddie—told him to sneak 'em out, send 'em down, and keep his mouth +shut. All you got to do is act innocent."</p> + +<p>Never mind the hot air Mr. Robert passes out after that. What tickles me +most is the package that came for me yesterday by messenger. I finds it +on my plate at dinner time; so both the old ladies was on hand when I +opens it.</p> + +<p>"Why, Torchy!" says Aunt Martha, lookin'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">225</a></span> at me shocked and scandalized. +"A young lady's picture!"</p> + +<p>"Yep," says I. "Ain't she a dream, though?"</p> + +<p>And, say, Martha'd been lecturin' me yet if it hadn't been for Zenobia +breakin' in.</p> + +<p>"Do remember, Martha," says she, "that you were not always sixty-three +years old, and that once——Why, bless me! This must be Alicia Vernon's +child. Is there a name on the back? There is! Verona Ashton Hemmingway, +heiress to all that is left of poor Dick's fortune. She's a beauty, just +like her mother."</p> + +<p>"She's all of that," says I.</p> + +<p>It didn't make any diff'rence to Aunt Martha who she was, though. She +didn't think it right for young ladies to give away their pictures to +young men. She was for askin' me how long I'd known Miss Vee, and——</p> + +<p>"There, now, Martha," said Zenobia, "suppose we don't."</p> + +<p>That's how it is I can guess who it was blew themselves for a corkin' +big silver frame, and put Vee's picture in it, and stood it on my +bureau. Course, Vee's on her way to foreign parts now, and there's no +tellin' when she's comin' back. Besides, there ain't anything in it, +anyway. But somehow that picture in the silver frame seems to help +some.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">226</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2><h3>BATTING IT UP TO TORCHY</h3> +</div> + +<p>Nobody had to point him out to me. I hadn't been holdin' down the chair +behind the brass gate more'n two days before I knew who was the living +joke on the Corrugated Trust Company's force. It's Uncle Dudley, of +course.</p> + +<p>And, say, my coppin' that out don't go to prove I'm a Mr. Cute. Any +mush-head could have picked him after one glimpse of the old vintage +Prince Albert, the back number silk lid, and the white Chaunceys he +wears on each side of his face. That get-up would be good for a quiet +smile even over in Canarsie; but when you come to plant it in the midst +of such a sporty aggregation as the Corrugated carries on the +payroll—why, you've got the comic chuckles comin' over fast.</p> + +<p>"Say, Piddie," says I the second morning, after watchin' it blow in, +"who's the seed, eh?"</p> + +<p>"That?" says Piddie. "Oh, that's old Dudley."</p> + +<p>"Does he wear the uniform reg'lar," says I, "or is he celebratin' some +anniversary?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">227</a></span></p> + +<p>And Piddie almost allows himself to grin as he explains how that's the +same costume Dudley has come down to work in every day for the last +fifteen years.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's a flossy outfit, all right," says I. "What is he, one of the +directors?"</p> + +<p>No, he wa'n't. He's some sort of subassistant auditor with a salary of +eighteen per. You know the kind—one of these deadwood specimens that +stand a show of gettin' the prunin' hook every time there's a shake-up. +Most every office has a few of 'em, hangin on like last year's oak +leaves in the park; but it ain't often they can qualify as comic +supplements.</p> + +<p>Not that Uncle Dudley tries to be humorous. He's the quietest, meekest +old relic you ever saw, slidin' in soft and easy with his hat off, and +walkin' almost as though he had his shoes in his hand. But the faded +umbrella under one arm and the big buttonhole bouquet he always wears +puts him in the joke book class without takin' the face lambrequins into +account at all.</p> + +<p>Can I let all that get by me without passin' out some josh? You can see +me, can't you? Never mind all the bright and cunnin' remarks I sprung on +Uncle Dudley now; but for awhile there I made a point of puttin' over +something fresh every day. Why, it was a cinch!</p> + +<p>All the comeback I ever got out of him,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">228</a></span> though, was that batty old +smile of his, kind of sad and gentle, as if I was remindin' him of times +gone by. And there ain't a lot of satisfaction in that, you know. Now, I +can chuck the giddy persiflage at Piddie day in and day out, and enjoy +doin' it, because it always gets him so wild. Also there's more or less +thrill to slippin' the gay retort across to Old Hickory Ellins now and +then, because there's a giddy chance of gettin' fired for it. But to rub +it into a non-resister like Uncle Dudley—well, what's the use?</p> + +<p>So after awhile I cut it out altogether, leavin' him for such amateur +cut-ups as Izzy Budheimer and Flannel Haggerty to practice on. Then +little by little me and old Dudley got more or less chummy, what with me +steerin' him around to my fav'rite dairy lunch joint and all that. And, +say, we must have been a great pair, sittin' side by side in the +armchairs, puttin' away sweitzer sandwiches and mugs of chickory blend; +him in his tall lid, and with his quiet, old timy manners, and me—well, +I guess you get the tableau.</p> + +<p>I used to like hearin' him talk, he uses such a soothin', genteel brand +of conversation; nothing fancy, you know, but plain, straightaway goods. +Mostly he tells me about his son, who's livin' out in California +somewhere and is just branchin' out in the cement block buildin' +business.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">229</a></span> Son is messin' in politics more or less too; mixin' it up +with the machine, and gettin' the short end of the returns every trip. +But it's on account of this reform stunt of his that the old gent seems +to be so proud of him, not appearin' to care whether he ever got elected +to anything or not.</p> + +<p>He don't say so much about the married daughter that he lives with over +in Jersey; but I don't think much about that until after I've let him +tow me over to dinner once and met Son in Law Bennett. He's a flashy +proposition, this young Mr. Bennett is, havin' an interest in a curb +brokerage firm that rents window space on Broad-st. and has desk room +down on William. Let him tell it, though, and, providin' some of his +deals go through, he's goin' to have Morgan squealin' for help before +the year is out.</p> + +<p>And I find that at home Uncle Dudley is rated somewhere between the +fam'ly cat and the front doormat. Mr. Bennett don't exactly gag the old +man and lock him in the cellar. He ignores him when he can, and when he +has to notice him he makes it plain that he's standin' the disgrace as +well as he can.</p> + +<p>"So you came over with the old sport, did you?" says Bennett to me. +"Batty old duffer, eh? That comes of being a dead one for so long. +Manages to hang on with the Corrugated,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">230</a></span> though, don't he? He'd better, +too! I'm not running any old folks' home here."</p> + +<p>But it wa'n't to show off how he stood with his son in law that Uncle +Dudley had lugged me along. He'd got so used to bein' dealt out for a +twospot that he didn't seem to mind. He didn't claim to be anything more +even at the office.</p> + +<p>It's his flower garden, out back of the house, that Uncle Dudley had got +me 'way out there to see; and, while I ain't any expert on that line of +displays, I should say this posy patch of his had some class to it. +Anyway, seein' it, and findin' out how he rolls off the mattress at +sunrise every mornin' to tend it, lets me in for a new view of him. It's +this little garden patch and the son out West that makes life worth +livin' for him, in spite of Son in Law Bennett.</p> + +<p>"Say, Dudley," says I, "why don't you work a combination of the two; go +out where you can raise roses all winter, if the dope these railroad +ads. sling out is straight, and be with your son too?"</p> + +<p>"I—I can't do that, just yet," says he, sort of hesitatin'. "You see, +he hasn't seen me for twelve years, and since then I have—er—well, +I've been slipping backward. He doesn't know what a failure I've made of +life, and if I gave up here and went on to him—why——"</p> + +<p>"I'm on," says I. "He'd spot you for one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">231</a></span> of the down-and-outers. But +you do get it rubbed in here good and plenty, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"From Bennett?" says he. "Oh, he is right, I suppose. He knows how +useless I am. But we cannot all succeed, can we? Some of us must stay at +the bottom and prop the ladder."</p> + +<p>One thing about Uncle Dudley, he had no whine comin'. He takes it all +meek and cheerful, and so far as I could make out he's most as useful +around the office as a lot of others that gets chesty whenever they +think what would happen to the concern if they should be sick for a +week. Anyway, there's frequent calls for old Dudley to straighten out +this or that; but somehow he never seems to get credit for bein' much +more than a sort of a walkin' copybook that remembers what other people +don't want to lumber up their valuable brains with. Maybe it's the white +mud guards, or his habit of lettin' anyone boss him around, that keeps +him down.</p> + +<p>And I expect things would have gone on that way, until he either dropped +out or got the blue envelope some payday, if it hadn't been for this lid +liftin' business up at Albany. Course, you've read how they uncovered +first one lot of grafters and then another, and fin'lly, with that last +swipe of the muck rake, got the Corrugated rung into the mess? And, say, +anyone would think, from some of the papers, that we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">232</a></span> was all a bunch of +crooks down here, spendin' our time feedin' wads of hundred-dollar bills +to the yellow dog. Maybe it don't stir up Mr. Robert some thorough, +though!</p> + +<p>"Why," I heard him say to the old man, "it's a beastly outrage, that's +what it is! All the fellows at the club are chaffing me about it, you +know. And besides it's disturbing business frightfully. Look at the +tumble our shares took yesterday! I say, Governor, we must send out a +denial."</p> + +<p>"Huh!" growls Old Hickory. "Who cares a blinkety blanked blank what they +say we did? Let 'em prove it!"</p> + +<p>Then the next day them checks was sprung on the investigatin' committee, +and it looked as though they'd made out their case against the +Corrugated. Perhaps there wa'n't doin's on the seventeenth floor that +mornin'! Clear out where I sat I could hear the boss callin' for first +one man and then another, and Piddie is turkeyin' in and out so excited +he don't know whether he's on duty or runnin' bases. Once, when he stops +to lean against the spring-water bottle and wipe his dewy brow, I slips +up behind and taps him quick on the shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Ye-e-e-es, sir!" says he, before he sees who it is.</p> + +<p>"Never mind, Piddie," says I. "I was goin' to ask you 'Guilty or not +guilty?' But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">233</a></span> what's the use? Anyone can see it was you that did it."</p> + +<p>"You—you impudent young sauce box!" he begins. "How dare you——"</p> + +<p>"Ah, save that for the subpœna server," says I. "He'll be in here +after you in a minute. And, say, my guess is that you'll get about ten +years on the rockpile."</p> + +<p>When the special directors' meetin' gets under way, though, and the big +guns of the Corrugated law force got on the job, there was less noise +and more electricity in the air. Honest, with all that tiptoein' and +whisperin' and serious looks bein' passed around, I didn't even have the +gall to guy one of the new typewriter girls. Kind of gets on your +nerves, a thing of that kind does, and if a squad of reserves had +marched in and pinched the whole outfit, I shouldn't have been so much +surprised.</p> + +<p>Right in the midst of it too there comes my three rings on the buzzer, +and in I sneaks where they're holdin' the inquest. Say, they're all +sittin' around the big mahogany directors' table, with the old man at +the head, lookin' black and ugly, and grippin' a half smoked cigar butt +between his teeth. I could see at a glance they hadn't thrown any scare +into him yet. He was just beginning to fight, that's all.</p> + +<p>"Boy," says he, "bring in Dudley."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," says I.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">234</a></span></p> + +<p>But, say, my heels dragged some as I went out. Course I didn't know what +they wanted of the old boy; but it didn't look to be such a wild guess +that they'd picked him to play the goat part. I finds him perched up on +his stool, calm and serene, workin' away on the ledgers as industrious +as if nothin' special was goin' on.</p> + +<p>"Dudley," says I, "are you feelin' strong?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Torchy," says he, "I am feeling about as usual, thank you."</p> + +<p>"Well, brace yourself then," says I; "for there's rough goin' ahead. +You're wanted in on the carpet."</p> + +<p>"Me?" says he. "Mr. Ellins wants me?"</p> + +<p>"Uh-huh," says I, "him and the rest of 'em. But don't let 'em put any +spell on you. It's your cue now to forget the meek and lowly business. I +know you ain't strong for bluffin' through a game; but for the love of +soup put up a front to-day!"</p> + +<p>Dudley, he only smiles and shakes his head. Then off he toddles, wearin' +his old ink-stained office coat and even keepin' on the green eye-shade.</p> + +<p>Well, I don't know how long they had him on the grill; but it couldn't +have been more'n half an hour, for along about three o'clock I strolls +into the audit department, and there's old Dudley back on his perch +writin' away again.</p> + +<p>"Say, are you it?" says I.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 638px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="illus-003" id="illus-003"></a> +<img src="images/illus-234.jpg" alt="WE MUST HAVE BEEN A GREAT PAIR." title="" width="638" height="400" /><br /> +<span class="caption">WE MUST HAVE BEEN A GREAT PAIR.</span> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">235</a></span>"Why, +how is that?" says he.</p> + +<p>"Did they tie anything to you?" says I. "You know—con you into takin' +the blame, or anything like that?"</p> + +<p>"Blame for what?" says he. "I don't believe I understand. But nothing of +the sort was mentioned. I was merely given some instructions about my +work."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" says I. "That's all, eh? And you've gone right at it, have you?"</p> + +<p>"No," says he. "The fact is, Torchy, I am writing out my resignation."</p> + +<p>"What! Quittin'?" says I. "Say, don't you see what a hole that puts you +in? Why, it makes you the goat for fair! If you do that you'll need bail +inside of forty-eight hours—and you won't get it. Look here, Dudley, +take my advice and tear that up."</p> + +<p>"But I can't, Torchy," says he, "really, I can't."</p> + +<p>"Why not?" says I. "You've got a couple of hands, ain't you? And what'll +you do for another job if you chuck this one? Say, why in blazes are you +so anxious to take your chances between Sing Sing and the bread line?"</p> + +<p>He's there with the explanation, all right, and here's the way it +stands: Uncle Dudley has been called on because his partic'lar +double-entry trick is to keep the run of the private accounts. All they +want him to do is to take<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">236</a></span> descriptions of a couple of checks, dig up +the stubs, and juggle his books so the record will fit in with a nice +new set of transactions that's just been invented for the purpose.</p> + +<p>"But what checks?" says I. "The five thousand plunkers to Mutt & Mudd?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes," says he. "How did you know?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, how did I——Say, Dudley, ain't you been readin' the papers +lately?" says I.</p> + +<p>Would you believe it? He don't know any more about what's in the air +than a museum mummy knows of Lobster Square. This little private cyclone +that's been turnin' the office upside down ain't so much as ruffled his +whiskers. Checks are checks to him, and these special trouble makers +don't give him any chills up the back at all. He's been told, though, to +use the acid bottle on his books and write in a new version.</p> + +<p>"Well, why not do it?" says I. "What's that to you?"</p> + +<p>"Why, don't you see," says he, "it would be making a false entry, +and—I—I——Well, I've never done such a thing in my life, Torchy, and +I can't begin now."</p> + +<p>And, say, what do you know about that, eh? Just a piece of phony +bookkeepin' that he don't even have to put his name to, his job gone if +he don't follow orders, and him almost to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">237</a></span> the age limit anyway, with +Son in Law Bennett ready to shove him on the street the minute he gets +the sack!</p> + +<p>"Do you mean it?" says I.</p> + +<p>He puts his signature to the resignation and hands it over for me to +read.</p> + +<p>"Say, Dudley," says I, lookin' him up and down, "this listens to me like +a bughouse play of yours; but I got to admit that you do it sporty. +There's no ocher streak in you."</p> + +<p>"I hoped you would understand," says he. "In the circumstances, it was +all I could do, you see."</p> + +<p>"What I see plainer'n anything else," says I, "is that if this goes +through your career is bugged to the limit. When do you want this handed +in?"</p> + +<p>"As soon as possible," says he. "I suppose I ought to resign at once."</p> + +<p>"Resign!" says I. "You'll be lucky if the old man don't have you chucked +through the window. Better be waitin' down in the lower corridor when I +spring this on Mr. Ellins."</p> + +<p>Nothin' of that kind for Uncle Dudley, though. He starts straightenin' +up his desk as I goes out, as calm as though he was house cleanin' for a +vacation.</p> + +<p>And while I'm tryin' to make up my mind how to deliver this document to +the main stem and duck an ambulance ride afterwards, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">238</a></span> directors' +meetin' breaks up. So I finds Old Hickory alone in his private office +and slips it casual on the pad in front of him.</p> + +<p>"Here, what's this?" he snorts, callin' me back as he opens up the +sheet. "Eh? Dudley! Resigns, does he! What, that dried up, goat faced, +custard brained, old——Say, boy; ask him what the grizzly grindstones +he means by——"</p> + +<p>"I did," says I, "and, if you want to know, he's quittin' because he's +too straight to cook up the books the way you told him."</p> + +<p>"Cook up the books!" gasps Old Hickory, gettin' raspb'ry tinted in the +face and displayin' neck veins like a truck horse. "He's been welshing, +has he? Perhaps he'd like to turn State's witness? Well, by the great +sizzling skyrockets, if that's his trick, I'll give him enough of——"</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, Mr. Ellins," I breaks in, "but you're slippin' your clutch. +Tricks! Why, he ain't even wise to what you want him to do it for. All +he knows is that it's crooked, and he renigs on a general proposition. +And, say, when a man's as straight as that, with the workhouse starin' +him in the face, he's too valuable to lose, ain't he?"</p> + +<p>"Wha-a-at?" gurgles Old Hickory.</p> + +<p>"Besides," says I, hurryin' the words to get 'em all out before any +violent scene breaks<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">239</a></span> loose, "knowin' all he does about them Mutt & Mudd +checks, and with what he don't know about the case, it wouldn't be +hardly safe to have him roamin' the streets, would it? Now I leave it to +you."</p> + +<p>Say, I was lookin' Old Hickory right in the eye, ready to dodge the +inkstand or anything else, while I was puttin' that over, and for a +minute I thought it was comin' sure. But while he can get as hot under +the collar as anyone I ever saw, and twice as quick, he don't go clear +off his nut any of the time.</p> + +<p>"Young man," says he, calmin' down and motionin' me to a chair, "as +usual, you seem to be more or less well informed on this matter +yourself. Now let's have the rest of it."</p> + +<p>And just like that, all of a sudden, it's batted up to me. So I lets it +come, with all the details about Uncle Dudley's frosty home life, and +the reformer son out West that still thinks father is makin' good. He +sits there and listens to every word too. Not that he comes in with the +sympathetic sigh, or shows signs of being troubled by mist in the eye +corners. He just throws in an occasional grunt now and then and drums +his fat finger-tips on the chair arm.</p> + +<p>"Huh!" says he. "Babes and sucklings! But I've had worse advice that has +cost me a lot more. Well, I suppose an old fool like that is dangerous +to have drifting around. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">240</a></span> I don't want him here just now, either. +Um-m-m! Where did you say this son of his lived?"</p> + +<p>"Just out of Los Angeles," says I.</p> + +<p>"All right," says Old Hickory. "Tell him he goes west Tuesday as +traveling auditor to our second vice president. He'll bring up at Los +Angeles about the middle of the month—and about that time it may happen +that he'll be retired on full pay. But I'll keep this resignation, as a +curiosity."</p> + +<p>Now don't ask me to describe how old Dudley takes it; for when he gets +the full partic'lars of the decision it near keels him over. And what +part of it do you say tickles him most? That the books don't have to be +juggled!</p> + +<p>"It wasn't like Mr. Ellins to countenance an act of that sort, not in +the least," says he, "and I am very glad that he has changed his mind."</p> + +<p>"Say, Dudley," says I, "you're a wonder, you are."</p> + +<p>And it was all I could do to keep from askin' him if he thought he owned +the only bottle of ink eradicator there was in New York.</p> + +<p>Do I know who did fix up them entries? Well, by the nervous motions of a +certain party next mornin', I could give a guess.</p> + +<p>"Piddie," says I, "if they ever get you on the stand, you want to wear +interferin' pads between your knees, so they won't hear the bones +rattle."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">241</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2><h3>THROWING THE LINE TO SKID</h3> +</div> + +<p>Say, this is twice I've been let in wrong on Skid Mallory. Remember him, +don't you? Well, he's our young college hick that I helped steer up +against Baron Kazedky when he landed that big armor plate order. Did +they make Skid a junior partner for that, or paint his name on a private +office door? Not so you'd notice it. Maybe they was afraid a sudden +boost like that would make him dizzy. But they promotes him to the sales +department and adds ten to his pay envelope. I was most as tickled over +it as Mallory was, too.</p> + +<p>"Didn't I tell you?" says I. "You're a comer, you are! Why, I expect in +ten or a dozen years more you'll be sharin' in the semi-annuals and +ridin' down to the office in a taxi."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I may, Torchy—in ten or a dozen years," says he, kind of slow +and sober.</p> + +<p>I could guess what he was thinking of then. It was the girl, that sweet +young thing that Brother Dick towed in here along last winter,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">242</a></span> some +Senator's daughter that Skid had got chummy with when he was doin' his +great quarterback act and havin' his picture printed in the sportin' +extras.</p> + +<p>"How's that affair comin' on?" says I; for I ain't heard him mention her +in quite some time.</p> + +<p>"It's all off," says he, shruggin' them wide shoulders of his. "That is, +there never was anything in it, you know, to begin with."</p> + +<p>"Oh, there wa'n't, eh?" says I. "Forgot all about that picture you used +to carry around in the little leather case, have you?"</p> + +<p>Skid, he flushes up a bit at that, and one hand goes up to his left +inside pocket. Then he laughs foolish. "It isn't I who have forgotten," +says he.</p> + +<p>"Oh-ho!" says I. "Well, I wouldn't have thought her the kind to shift +sudden, when she seemed so——"</p> + +<p>But Mallory gives me the choke off sign, and as we walks up Broadway he +gradually opens up more and more on the subject until I've got a fair +map of the situation. Seems that Sis ain't exactly set him adrift +without warnin'. He'd sort of helped cut the cable himself. She'd begun +by writin' to him every week, tellin' him all about the lively season +she was havin' in Washington, and how much fun she was gettin' out of +life. She even put in descriptions of her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">243</a></span> new dresses, and some of her +dance orders, and now and then a bridge score, or a hand painted place +card from some dinner she'd been to.</p> + +<p>And Skid, thinkin' it all over in the luxury of his nine by ten boudoir, +got to wonderin' what attractions along that line he could hold out to a +young lady that was used to blowin' in more for one new spring lid than +he could earn in a couple of weeks.</p> + +<p>"And orchids are her favorite flowers!" says he. "Ever buy any orchids, +Torchy?"</p> + +<p>"Not guilty," says I; "but they ain't so high, are they, that you +couldn't splurge on a bunch now and then? What's the tariff on 'em, +anyway?"</p> + +<p>"At times you can get real nice ones for a dollar apiece," says he.</p> + +<p>"Phe-e-e-ew!" says I. "She has got swell tastes."</p> + +<p>"It isn't her fault," says he. "She's never known anything different."</p> + +<p>So what does Skid do but slow up on the correspondence, skippin' an +answer here and there, and coverin' only two pages when he did write. +For one thing, he didn't have so much to tell as she did. I knew that; +for I'd seen more or less of Mallory durin' the last few months, and I +knew he was playin' his cards close to his vest.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">244</a></span></p> + +<p>Not that he was givin' any real lifelike miser imitation; but he didn't +indulge in high priced café luncheons on Saturdays, like most of the +bunch; he'd scratched his entry at the college club; and he was soakin' +away his little surplus as fast as he got his fingers on it.</p> + +<p>Course, that programme meant sendin' regrets to most of the invites he +got, and spendin' his evenin's where it didn't cost much to get in or +out. One frivolous way he had of killin' time was by teachin' 'rithmetic +to a class of new landed Zinskis at a settlement house over on the East +Side.</p> + +<p>"Ah, what's the use?" I used to tell him. "They'd learn to do compound +interest on their fingers in a month, anyway, and the first thing you +know you'll be payin' rent to some of 'em."</p> + +<p>But he was pretty level headed about most things, I will say that for +Mallory, specially the way he sized up this girl business. Seems at last +she got the idea he was grouchy at her about something; and when he +didn't deny, or come to the front with any reason—why, she just quit +sendin' the billy ducks.</p> + +<p>"So you're never going to see her any more, eh?" says I.</p> + +<p>"Well," says he, "I supposed until within an hour or so ago that I never +should. And then——Well, she's here, Torchy; came yesterday,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">245</a></span> and I +presume she expects to see me to-night."</p> + +<p>"That's encouragin', anyway," says I.</p> + +<p>But Mallory don't seem so much cheered up. It turns out that Sis is +spendin' a few days with friends here, waitin' for the rest of the +fam'ly to come on and sail for Europe. They're givin' a farewell dinner +dance for her, and Skid is on the list.</p> + +<p>The trouble is he can't make up his mind whether to go or stay away. One +minute he's dead sure he won't, and the next minute he admits he don't +see what harm there would be in takin' one last look.</p> + +<p>"But, then," says Mallory, "what good would that do?"</p> + +<p>"I know," says I. "There's a young lady friend of mine on the other side +too. Say, Mallory, I guess we belong in the lobster class."</p> + +<p>And when we splits up on the corner Skid has decided against the party +proposition, and goes off towards his boardin' house with his chin down +on his collar and his heels draggin'.</p> + +<p>So I wa'n't prepared for the joyous smile and the frock coat regalia +that Mallory wears when he blows into the office about ten-forty-five +next forenoon. He's sportin' a spray of lilies of the valley in his +lapel, and swingin' his silver topped stick, and by the look on his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">246</a></span> +face you'd think he was hearin' the birdies sing in the treetops.</p> + +<p>"Tra-la-la, tra-la-lee!" says I, throwin' open the brass gate for him. +"Is it a special holiday, or what?"</p> + +<p>"It's a very special one," says he, thumpin' me on the back and +whisperin' husky in my ear. "Torchy, I'm married!"</p> + +<p>"Wha-a-at!" I splutters. "Who to? When?"</p> + +<p>"To Sis," says he, "half an hour ago."</p> + +<p>"Eh?" says I. "Mean to say you've been and eloped with the Senator's +daughter?"</p> + +<p>"Eloped!" says he, as though he'd never heard the word before. "Why, +no—er—that is, we just went out and—and——"</p> + +<p>Oh, no, they hadn't eloped! They'd merely slid out of the ballroom about +three A.M., after dancin' seventeen waltzes together, snuggled into a +hansom cab, and rode around the park until daylight talkin' it over. +Then she'd slipped back into the house, got into her travelin' dress +while he was off changin' his clothes, met again at eight o'clock, +chased down to City Hall after a license, and then dragged a young +rector away from his boiled eggs and toast to splice 'em.</p> + +<p>But Skid didn't call that elopin'. Why, Sis had left word with the +butler to tell her friends all about it, and the first thing they did +after<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">247</a></span> it was over was to send a forty-word collect telegram to papa. +And Mallory, he'd just dropped around to arrange with Old Hickory for a +little vacation before they beat it for Atlantic City.</p> + +<p>"So that ain't elopin', eh?" says I. "I expect you'd call that a +sixty-yard run on a forward pass, or something like that? Well, the old +man's inside. Luck to you."</p> + +<p>Mallory wa'n't on the carpet long, and when he comes out I asks how he +made back.</p> + +<p>"Oh, bully!" says he. "I'm to have ten days."</p> + +<p>"With or without?" says I.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I forgot to ask," says he.</p> + +<p>Little things like bein' on the payroll or not wa'n't botherin' him +then. He gives me a bone crushin' grip and swings out to the elevator in +a rush; for he's been away from Sis nearly half an hour now.</p> + +<p>Exceptin' a picture postcard or two, showin' the iron pier and a bathin' +scene, I didn't hear from Mr. and Mrs. Mallory for more'n a week. And +then one afternoon I gets a 'phone message from Skid, saying that +they're all settled in a little flat up on Washington Heights and +they'll be pleased to have me come up to dinner.</p> + +<p>"It's our very first dinner, you know," says<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">248</a></span> he, "and Sis is going to +get it all by herself. I suggested that we try the first one on you."</p> + +<p>"That don't scare me any," says I. "I've lived on sinkers and pie too +long to duck amateur cookin'. I'll be there."</p> + +<p>I was on the grin all the afternoon too, thinkin' of the joshes I was +goin' to hand him. At three minutes of closing time I was all ready to +sneak out, with one eye on the clock and the other on Piddie, when in +blows a ruby faced, thick waisted gent with partly gray hair, a +heavyweight jaw, and a keen pair of twinklin' gray eyes. He looks +prosperous and important, and he proceeds to act right to home.</p> + +<p>"Boy," says he, pushin' through the gate, "is this the general office of +the Corrugated Trust Company?"</p> + +<p>"Yep," says I. "That's what it says on the door."</p> + +<p>"There is employed here, I understand," he goes on, "a young man by the +name of Mallory."</p> + +<p>Say, I was wide awake at that. "Mallory?" says I. "I can find out. Did +you want to see him on business?"</p> + +<p>"It is a personal matter," says he. "Is he here?"</p> + +<p>"Now, let's not rush this," says I. "My orders is to find out——"</p> + +<p>"Very well," says the gent, "there is my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">249</a></span> card. And perhaps I should +mention that I have the honor—er—I suppose, to be his father in law."</p> + +<p>Say, and here I was, up against the Senator himself. Course it was my +cue to shrivel up and do the low salaam; but all I can think of at the +minute is to look him over and grin.</p> + +<p>"Gee!" says I. "Then you're on his trail, eh?"</p> + +<p>Maybe it was the grin fetched him; for them square mouth corners +flickers a little and he don't throw any fit. "Evidently you are +somewhat familiar with the circumstances," says he. "May I ask if you +are sufficiently favored with the confidence of my new son in law to +know where he and my—er—his wife happen, to be just now?"</p> + +<p>"I admit it," says I; "but if you're thinkin' of springin' any hammer +music on Skid, you can look for another party, for you won't get it out +of me in a thousand years!"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" says he. "I see Young Lochinvar has at least one champion. Allow +me to state that my intentions are pacific. My wife and I merely wish, +before sailing, to pay a formal call on our daughter and her new +husband. Now if you could give me their address——"</p> + +<p>"Why, say, Senator," says I, "if you ain't lookin' to start anything, I +can do better. I'm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">250</a></span> going right up there myself this minute, and if +Mrs.——"</p> + +<p>"She is waiting downstairs in the cab," says he. "Nothing would suit us +better."</p> + +<p>And, say, maybe it wa'n't just what I should have done, but blamed if I +could see how to dodge it when it's up to me that way. So it's me +climbin' up on the front seat with the driver of a fancy hotel taxi, +papa and mamma behind, and off rolls the surprise party.</p> + +<p>Well, you know them cut rate apartment houses, with a flossy reception +room, all marble slabs and burlap panels and no elevator. The West +Indian at the telephone exchange says we'll find the Mallorys on the top +floor back to the left. That meant four flights to climb, which might +account for the lack of conversation on the way up. Mallory, with his +coat off, his cuffs rolled back, and his face steamed up, answers the +ring himself.</p> + +<p>"Ah, that you, Torchy?" says he. "We were just wondering if you +would——Why—er—ah——" and as he gets sight of the old couple out in +the dark hall he breaks off sudden.</p> + +<p>"It's all right," says I. "He's promised to give the peace sign. You +know the Senator, don't you, Skid?"</p> + +<p>"The Senator!" he gasps out.</p> + +<p>"I believe I once had the pleasure of seeing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">251</a></span> Mr. Mallory," says the old +boy, comin' to the front graceful. "Hope you will pardon the intrusion; +but——"</p> + +<p>Just then, though, Sis appears from the kitchen, her face all pink and +white, and her sleeves pushed up past the dimples in her elbows. Under a +thirty-nine-cent blue and white checked apron she's wearin' a lace party +dress that was a dream. It's an odd combination; but most anything would +look well on a little queen like her. She takes one look at Skid, +another at the Senator, and then behind the old man she spies Mother.</p> + +<p>Well, it's just a squeal from one, and a sigh from the other, and then +they've made a rush to the center that wedges us all into that little +three-foot hall like it was the platform of a subway car, and before +anything more can be said they've gone to a fond clinch, each pattin' +the other on the back and passin' appropriate remarks.</p> + +<p>Somehow, I guess the Senator hadn't quite figured on this part of the +programme. I expect his plan was to be real polite and formal, stay only +long enough to let the young people know he could stand it if they +could, and then back out dignified.</p> + +<p>Whatever Mother might have meant to do when she started, it was all off +from the minute Sis let out that squeal. And no sooner had we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">252</a></span> got +ourselves untangled and edged sideways into the cute little parlor, than +Mother announces how she means to stay right here until it's time to +start for the steamer. Did some one say dinner! Good! She'll stay to +dinner, then.</p> + +<p>At that Sis looks at Skid and Skid he looks at Sis. There was some real +worry exchanged in them looks too; but young Mrs. Mallory ain't one to +be stumped as easy as that.</p> + +<p>"Oh, goody!" says she, clappin' her hands. "But, Mother, what is it you +do to make dumplings puff out after you've dropped them in the lamb +stew?"</p> + +<p>"Dumplings! Lamb stew!" says Mother. "Gracious! Don't ask me, child. I +haven't made any for years. Doesn't your cook know?"</p> + +<p>"She doesn't," says Sis. "I am the cook, Mother."</p> + +<p>Well, that was only the beginning of the revelations; for while Sis and +Mother was strugglin' with the receipt book, the Senator was makin' a +tour of inspection around the apartment. It didn't take him so long, +either.</p> + +<p>"Ahem!" says he to Mallory. "Very cozy, indeed; but—er—not exactly +spacious."</p> + +<p>"Four rooms and bath," says Mallory.</p> + +<p>"Was—er—that the bathtub in there?" says the Senator, jerkin' his +thumb at the bathroot<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">253</a></span> door. "I fancied it might be—er—a pudding dish. +Might I inquire what rent you pay for—er—all this?"</p> + +<p>"Forty a month, sir," says Mallory.</p> + +<p>"Ah! Economy, I see. Good way to begin," says he. "And if it is not too +personal a question, your present salary is——"</p> + +<p>"I'm getting twenty-five a week," says Skid, lookin' him straight +between the eyes.</p> + +<p>"Then you have a private income, I presume?" says the Senator.</p> + +<p>"Well," says Mallory, "my aunt in Boston sends me fifty dollars every +Christmas and advises me to invest my savings in Government bonds."</p> + +<p>At that the Senator drops into a chair and whistles. "But—but how do +you expect," he goes on, "to—to——Pardon me, but I am getting +interested. I should like to know what was your exact financial standing +when you had the imp—er—when you married my daughter?"</p> + +<p>He gets it, down to the last nickel. Skid begins with what he had in the +bank when they starts for Atlantic City, shows the hole that trip made +in his funds, produces the receipts for furniture, and announces that, +after punglin' up a month's rent, there's something over seven dollars +left in the treasury.</p> + +<p>"Huh!" grunts the Senator. "Hence the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">254</a></span> lamb stew, eh? I don't wonder! So +you and Sis have undertaken to live in a forty-dollar apartment on a +twenty-five-dollar salary, have you?"</p> + +<p>"That's what it looks like, sir," says Mallory.</p> + +<p>"And who is the financial genius that is to manage this enterprise?" +says he.</p> + +<p>"Why," says Skid, "Mrs. Mallory, I suppose. We have agreed that she +should."</p> + +<p>"Sis, eh?" says the Senator, smilin' kind of grim. "Well, you have my +best wishes for your success."</p> + +<p>Skid he flushes some behind the ears; but he only bows and says he's +much obliged. You couldn't blame him for feelin' cut up, either; for +it's all clear how the Senator has doped out an appeal for help within +thirty days, and is willin' to wait for the call. I'm no shark on the +cost of livin' myself; but even I could figure out a deficit. There's a +call to dinner just then, though, and we all gathers round the stew.</p> + +<p>Anyway, it was meant for a lamb stew. The potatoes was some hard, the +gravy was so thin you'd thought it had been put in from the tea kettle +as an afterthought, and the dumplin's hadn't the puffin' out charm +worked on 'em for a cent. But the sliced carrots was kind of tasty and +went all right with the baker's bread if you left off the bargain +butter. Sis she tried<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">255</a></span> to laugh at it all; but her eyes got kind of dewy +at the corners.</p> + +<p>"Never mind, dear," says Mother. "I'll telegraph for our old Martha to +come on and cook for you."</p> + +<p>"Why, certainly," says the Senator. "She could sleep on the fire escape, +you know."</p> + +<p>And say, that last comic jab of his, and the effect it had on Mr. and +Mrs. Mallory, kind of got under my skin. I got to thinkin' hard and +fast, and inside of five minutes I stumbles onto an idea.</p> + +<p>"Excuse me," says I to Skid; "but I guess I'll be on my way. I just +thought of a date I ought to keep."</p> + +<p>And where do you expect I brings up? At the Ellins' mansion, down on the +avenue. First time I'd ever been there out of office hours; but the maid +says Mr. Ellins is takin' his coffee in the lib'ry and she'd see if he'd +let me in. Ah, sure he did, and we gets right down to cases.</p> + +<p>"Remember how that assistant general manager stiff of yours fell down on +that public lands deal when you sent him to Washington last month?" says +I.</p> + +<p>Old Hickory chokes some on a swallow of black coffee he's just hoisted +in; but he recovers enough to nod.</p> + +<p>"Does he get the run?" says I.</p> + +<p>"I neglected consulting you about it,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">256</a></span> Torchy," says he; "but his +resignation has been called for."</p> + +<p>"Filled the job yet?" says I.</p> + +<p>"Fortunately, no," says he, and I knew by the way he squints that he +thought he was bein' mighty humorous. "Possibly you could recommend his +successor?"</p> + +<p>"Yep, I could," says I. "Would it help any to have some one who was son +in law to a Senator?"</p> + +<p>"That," says Old Hickory, "would depend somewhat on which Senator was +his father in law."</p> + +<p>"Well," says I, "there's his card."</p> + +<p>"Eh?" says he, readin' the name. "Why—who——"</p> + +<p>"Mallory," says I. "You know—hitched last week. He's got the old boy up +there to dinner now. Maybe he'll be taken on as the Senator's secretary +if you don't jump in quick. He's a hustler, Mallory is. Remember how he +skinned that big order out of Kazedky? And as an A. G. M. he'd be a +winner. Well, does he get it?"</p> + +<p>"Young man," says Old Hickory, catchin' his breath, "if my mental +machinery worked at the high pressure speed yours does, I could——But I +am not noted for being slow. I've done things in a hurry before. I can +yet. Torchy, he does get it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">257</a></span></p> + +<p>"When?" says I.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow morning," says he. "I'll start him at five thousand."</p> + +<p>"Whoop!" says I. "Say, you're a sport! I'll go up and deliver the glad +news. Guess he needs it now as much as he ever will."</p> + +<p>And, say, you should have seen the change of heart that comes over the +Senator when he heard the bulletin. "Mallory, my boy," says he, +"congratulations. And by the way, just remove that—er—imitation lamb +stew. Then we'll all go down to some good hotel and have a real +dinner."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">258</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2><h3>TOUCHING ON TINK TUTTLE</h3> +</div> + +<p>"On your way, now, on your way!" says I; gazin' haughty over the brass +gate. "No window cleanin' done here durin' office hours!"</p> + +<p>"But," says the specimen on the other side, "I—I didn't come to clean +the windows."</p> + +<p>"Eh?" says I, sizin' up the blue flannel shirt, the old leather belt, +and other marks of them pail and sponge artists. "Well, we don't want +any sash cords put in, or wirin' fixed, or any kind of jobbin' done +until after five. That's General Order No. 1. See?"</p> + +<p>He nods in kind of a lifeless, unexcited way; but he don't make any +motions towards beatin' it. "I—I—the fact is," he begins, "I wish to +see some one connected with the Corrugated Trust Company."</p> + +<p>"You've had your wish," says I. "I'm Exhibit A. For a profile view of me +step around to the left. Anything more?"</p> + +<p>He don't get peeved at this, nor he don't grin. He just keeps on bein' +serious and calm. "If<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">259</a></span> you don't mind," says he, "I should like to see +one of the higher officials."</p> + +<p>"Say, that's almost neat enough to win out," says I. "One of the higher +officials, eh? How would the president suit you?"</p> + +<p>"If I might see him, I'd like it," says he.</p> + +<p>"Wha-a-a-at!" says I.</p> + +<p>Honest, the nerve that's wasted on some folks is a shame. I had to sit +up and give him the Old Sleuth stare at that. He's between twenty-five +and thirty, for a guess; and, say, whatever he might have been once, +he's a wreck now,—long, thin face, with the cheekbones almost stickin' +through, slumped in shoulders, bony hands, and a three months' crop of +mud colored hair stringin' damp over his ears and brushin' his coat +collar. Why, he looked more like he ought to be sittin' around the +waitin' room of some charity hospital, than tryin' to butt in on the +time of one of the busiest men in New York.</p> + +<p>"It's a matter that ought to go before the president," says he, "and if +he isn't busy I'd like very much to——"</p> + +<p>"Say, old scout," says I, "you got about as much chance of bein' let in +to see Mr. Ellins as I have of passin' for a brunette! So let's come +down to cases. Now what's it all about?"</p> + +<p>He ain't makin' any secret of it. He wants the concern to make him a bid +on an option he holds on some coal and iron lands. Almost<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">260</a></span> comes to life +tellin' me about that option, and for the first time I notice what big, +bright, deep sunk eyes he's got.</p> + +<p>"Oh, a thing of that kind would have to go through reg'lar," says I. +"Wait; I'll call Mr. Piddie. He'll fix you up."</p> + +<p>Does he? Well, that's what Piddie's supposed to be there for; but he +don't any more'n glance at the flannel shirt before he begins to swell +up and frown and look disgusted. "No, no, go away!" says he. "I've no +time to talk to you, none at all."</p> + +<p>"But," says the object, "I haven't had a chance to tell you——"</p> + +<p>"Get out—you!" snaps Piddie, turnin' on his heel and struttin' off.</p> + +<p>It ain't the way he talks to parties wearin' imported Panamas and +sportin' walkin' sticks; but, then, most of us has our little fads that +way. What stirred me up, though, was the rough way he did it, and the +hopeless sag to the wreck's chin after he's heard the decision.</p> + +<p>"Sweet disposition he's got, eh?" says I. "But don't take him too +serious. He ain't the final word in this shop, and there's nobody gets +next to the big wheeze oftener durin' the day than yours truly. Maybe I +could get that option of yours passed on. Got the document with you?"</p> + +<p>He had and hands it over. With that he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">261</a></span> drops onto the reception room +settee and says he'll wait.</p> + +<p>"Better not," says I; "for it might be quite a spell before I gets the +right chance. We'll do this reg'lar, by mail. Now what's the name?"</p> + +<p>"Tuttle," says he, "Tinkham J. Tuttle."</p> + +<p>"They call you Tink for short, don't they?" says I, and he admits that +they do. "All right," I goes on. "Now the address, Tink. Jersey, eh? +Well, it's likely you'll hear from Mr. Ellins before the week's out. But +don't get your hopes up; for he turns down enough propositions to fill a +waste basket every day. Express elevator at No. 5. So long," and I +chokes off Mr. Tuttle's vote of thanks by wavin' him out the door.</p> + +<p>It's well along in the afternoon before I sees an openin' to drop this +option in front of Old Hickory, grabbin' a minute when his desk is +fairly clear, and slammin' it down just as though it had been sent in +through Piddie.</p> + +<p>"Delivered on," says I. "Wants rush answer by mail."</p> + +<p>"Huh!" grunts Old Hickory, lightin' up a fresh Cassadora.</p> + +<p>That's all I expected to hear of the transaction; so about an hour +later, when Piddie comes out lookin' solemn and says I'm to report to +Mr. Ellins, I don't know what's up.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">262</a></span></p> + +<p>"Is it a first degree charge, Piddie," says I, "or only for +manslaughter?"</p> + +<p>"I presume Mr. Ellins will discover what you have done," says he.</p> + +<p>"Well, hope for the worst, Piddie," says I. "Here goes!"</p> + +<p>And the minute I sees what Old Hickory has in front of him, I'm wise.</p> + +<p>"Torchy," says he, givin' me the steely glitter out of them cold storage +eyes of his, "Mr. Piddie seems to know nothing about this Michigan +option."</p> + +<p>"If he admits that much," says I, "it must be so. It's a record, +though."</p> + +<p>"What I want to know," goes on Mr. Ellins, "is how in blue belted blazes +it got here. You brought it in, didn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yep," says I. "It was this way, Mr. Ellins: Piddie had it put up to him +and wouldn't even hang it on the hook; but the guy that brings it looked +so mournful that I butts in and takes a chance on passin' it along to +you on my own hook."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you did, eh?" he snorts.</p> + +<p>"Sure," says I. "I got to do the fresh act once in a while, ain't I? +Course, if you want a dead one on the gate, I can hand in my portfolio; +but I thought all you had to do with punk options like this was to toss +'em in the basket and then have 'em fired back at——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">263</a></span></p> + +<p>"Fire nothing back!" says Mr. Ellins. "Why, you lucky young rascal, +we've been trying to get hold of this very property for eight months! +And Piddie! Bah! Of all the pin-headed, jelly brained——"</p> + +<p>"Second the motion," says I, springin' the joyous grin.</p> + +<p>"That will do," says Old Hickory, catchin' himself up. "Just you forget +Mr. Piddie and listen to me. Know this Tuttle person by sight, don't +you?"</p> + +<p>"Couldn't forget him," says I. "Want him on the carpet?"</p> + +<p>"I do," says he. "Have him here at ten-thirty to-morrow morning. But +find him to-night, and see that you don't open your head about this +business to anyone else."</p> + +<p>"I get you," says I, doin' the West Point salute. "It's me to trail and +shut up Tuttle. He'll be here, if I have to bring him in an ambulance."</p> + +<p>That's why I jumps out before closin' time and mingles with the Jersey +commuters in a lovely hot ride across the meadows. It's a scrubby +station where I gets off, too; one of these fact'ry settlements where +the whole population answers the seven o'clock whistle every mornin'. +There's a brick barracks half a mile long, where they make sewin' +machines or something, and snuggled close up around it is hundreds<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">264</a></span> of +these four-fam'ly wooden tenements, gettin' the full benefit of the soft +coal smoke and makin' it easy for the hands to pike home for a noon +dinner. Say, you talk about the East Side double deckers; but they're +brownstone fronts compared to some of these corporation shacks across +the meadows!</p> + +<p>Seventeen dirty kids led me to the number Tuttle gave me, and in the +right hand first floor kitchen I finds a red faced woman in a faded blue +wrapper fryin' salt pork and cabbage.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Tinkham Tuttle?" says I, holdin' my breath.</p> + +<p>"No," says she, glancin' suspicious over her shoulder. "I'm his sister."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" says I. "Is Tink around?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know whether he is or not, and don't care!" says she.</p> + +<p>"Much obliged," says I; "but I ain't come to collect for anything. +Couldn't you give a guess?"</p> + +<p>"If I did," says she, "I'd say he was over to the factory yard. That's +where he stays most of the time."</p> + +<p>It's half-past five; but the fact'ry's runnin' full blast, and I has to +jolly a timekeeper and the yard boss before I locates my man. Fin'lly, +though, they point out a big storage shed in one corner of the coal +cinder desert they has fenced in so careful. The wide double doors to +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">265</a></span> shed are shut; but after I've hammered for a while one of 'em is +slid back a few inches and Tuttle peeks out.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" he gasps. "You! Say, are they going to take it? Are they?"</p> + +<p>"Them's the indications," says I, "providin' it's all O. K. and your +price is right."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll make the price low enough," says he. "I'll sell out for two +thousand, and it ought to be worth twice that. But two is all I need."</p> + +<p>"Eh?" says I. "What kind of finance do you call that? Say, Tuttle, you +know you can't work any 'phony deal on the Corrugated. Better give me +the straight goods and save trouble."</p> + +<p>"I will," says he. "Come in, won't you!"</p> + +<p>With that he leads the way through the dark shed to a sort of workshop +at the back, where there's a window. There's a tool bench, a little hand +forge with an old coffee pot and a fryin' pan on it, and a cot bed not +ten feet away.</p> + +<p>"Campin' out here?" says I.</p> + +<p>"I'm not supposed to," says he; "but the yard superintendent lets me. +This is where I've lived and worked for nearly two years, and until you +came a minute ago it was where I expected to end. But now it's +different."</p> + +<p>"It is?" says I. "How's that?"</p> + +<p>Which is Tink Tuttle's cue to open up on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">266</a></span> story of his life. It's a +soggy, unexcitin' yarn, most of it. As I'd kind of guessed by the way he +talked, he wa'n't just an ordinary fact'ry hand. He'd been through some +high class scientific school up in Massachusetts, where he'd lived +before his father lost his grip. Seems the old man was a crackerjack +boss machinist; but he got to monkeyin' with fool inventions, drifted +from place to place, got to be a lunger, and finally passed in. The last +four years in the fact'ry here had finished him. Tink had worked there, +too, and his sister had married one of the hands.</p> + +<p>"It's the graveyard of the Tuttle family, this place is, I suppose," +says Tink. "It got father, and it has almost got me. Some folks can +breathe brass filings and carbon dioxid and thrive on it; but we can't. +So I gave up and hid myself away in here to work out one of my silly +dreams. Last spring I caught a bad cold, and Sister sent me West. There +we have an uncle. She thought the change of climate might help my cough. +It didn't do a bit of good; but it was out there that I picked up this +option. That was when I saw a chance of making my dream come true. You +saw what I've been building, didn't you, as we came through?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't notice," says I. "What is it, anyway?"</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 576px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="illus-004" id="illus-004"></a> +<img src="images/illus-266.jpg" alt=""TUT, TUT," SAYS THE BOSS OF THE RESTORIUM." title="" width="576" height="400" /><br /> +<span class="caption">"TUT, TUT," SAYS THE BOSS OF THE RESTORIUM.</span> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">267</a></span>"Wait +until I light the lantern," says Tuttle. "Now come. This way. +Don't hit your head on those wings. There!"</p> + +<p>And, say, it's a wonder I could walk right by a thing of that kind +without gettin' next, even if it was kind of dark. But all I needs now +is one glimpse of the outlines.</p> + +<p>"Oho!" says I. "A flyer! Say, every bughouse in the country is at work +on one of them."</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," says he. "I may be as big a fool as any of them, too; +but I think I know what I'm doing. At any rate, I've put my last dollar +into it. That's why my sister is so——Well, she thinks I am——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I suspicioned she was some sore on you," says I. "But what sort of +a flyer is this, double or single winger?"</p> + +<p>"It's a biplane," says Tuttle, "on the Farnham type, only an improved +model."</p> + +<p>"Of course it's improved," says I. "Tried her out yet!"</p> + +<p>"Hardly," says he. "I couldn't buy an engine, you see. That's what I've +been waiting for. Say, you really think the Corrugated will take that +option, do you? If they only would!"</p> + +<p>"You must be in a hurry to break your neck," says I.</p> + +<p>Before I left, though, he'd shown me all over the thing, explained how +it was goin' to work,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">268</a></span> and did his best to get me as excited as he was. +Also I makes him give me the full details of how he come to get this +option, and I advises him if he does manage to cash it in for two +thousand, to take an ax to his flying machine and hike out for some lung +preservin' climate where he'll have a chance to shake that cough.</p> + +<p>"Thanks," says he, grippin' my hand and chokin' up. "You—you've been +mighty good to me. I'll remember it."</p> + +<p>Course, I gives Mr. Ellins the whole tale in the mornin', about Tuttle +and his bum air pumps, and his batty scheme of buildin' the flyer; but +all that interests Old Hickory is the option and the price.</p> + +<p>"Good work, Torchy," says he. "I've wired our Western agents to +investigate, and if they report an O. K., Tuttle shall have his two +thousand to do what he likes with."</p> + +<p>It must have been two weeks later, and I'd almost forgot the case, when +one mornin' I gets a note from Tinkham J., askin' me to come over to the +shed as quick as I could. Well, I didn't know whether he was havin' a +final spasm or not; but it seemed like I ought to go, so that night I +does. I finds him waitin' for me at the yard gate. He don't look any +worse than usual, either.</p> + +<p>"Well," says I, "didn't the deal go through?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">269</a></span></p> + +<p>"It did," says he, pattin' me on the back. "Thanks to you, it did. The +check came two days later, and I've spent it all."</p> + +<p>"What!" says I. "You don't mean to say you blew all that in on an engine +for that blamed——"</p> + +<p>"All but a few dollars that I put into oil and gasoline," says he. "But +the machine is all hooked up, Torchy, and it works. Do you hear that? It +works! I've been up!"</p> + +<p>"Up?" says I.</p> + +<p>"Not far," says he; "but enough to know what I can do. Started right +here from the yard, just at daylight, and landed here again. I've told +no one else, you know. Come in and see how smooth the engine works."</p> + +<p>And it was just while he was gettin' ready to start the wheels that +these two strangers butts in on us. One is a husky, red faced, swell +dressed young sport, and the other is a tall, swivel eyed, middle aged +gent dressed in khaki. They walks around the machine without payin' any +attention to me or Tuttle.</p> + +<p>"Well, what do you think of it, Captain?" says the young sport after a +while.</p> + +<p>The Captain, he shakes his head. "I can't tell positively," says he; +"but these planes seem to me to be set entirely wrong. I never saw +deflectors worked on that principle before,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">270</a></span> either. The theory may be +good; but in a practical test——"</p> + +<p>"They say he's made flight, though," breaks in the young sport. "The +night watchman saw him. Hey! You're the chap that built this aëroplane, +aren't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," says Tuttle.</p> + +<p>"And didn't you make a flight?" he wants to know.</p> + +<p>"A short one," says Tuttle.</p> + +<p>"That's enough for me," says the sport. "Say, you know who I am, don't +you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," says Tuttle. "At least, I ought to. You're Bradish Jones, +Jr., one of the owner's sons."</p> + +<p>"That's right," says young Mr. Jones. "And I know you. You're the son of +old Tuttle, who used to be foreman of the machine shop when I was doing +my apprentice work. Thought this little trick of yours was a secret, +didn't you? But I heard about it. Lucky for you I did, too. I'm in the +market. I don't care a hoot what the Captain says, either. I want a +flyer, and I'm ready to take a chance on yours. What do you want for +it?"</p> + +<p>"Why," says Tuttle, "I don't believe I want to sell."</p> + +<p>"What's that?" snaps Bradish. "Come, now! Don't try to bluff me! I'll +admit I'm in a hurry. These Curtiss people have been holding<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">271</a></span> me off for +a month, and I want to begin flying right away. So name your price. How +much?"</p> + +<p>But Tuttle, he only shakes his head.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, you will," says Bradish. "Why, you've hardly a dollar to your +name. You can't afford to own a flyer, even if you did build it. You +know you can't. Now show me what it cost you, and I'll give you a +thousand for your work and a hundred a week until I learn to manage the +thing. Is it a go?"</p> + +<p>"No!" says Tuttle, sharp and quick, them big eyes of his fairly blazin'. +"This is my machine, and I'm going to fly it. I don't care how much +money you've got. You've taken a sudden whim that you'd like to fly. +It's been the one dream of my life. You've had your yachts and your +racing cars. I've never had anything but hard work. My father wore +himself out in your stinking old factory. I nearly did the same. But +you can't rob me of this. You sha'n't, that's all!"</p> + +<p>And for a minute them two stood there givin' each other the assault and +batt'ry stare, without sayin' a word. A queer lookin' pair they made, +too; this Bradish gent, big and beefy and prosperous, and Tink Tuttle, +his greasy old coat hangin' loose on his skinny shoulders, and lookin' +like he was on his way from the accident ward to the coroner's office.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">272</a></span></p> + +<p>"Five thousand cash, then," growls Mr. Jones.</p> + +<p>"Not if you said fifty!" Tink comes back at him.</p> + +<p>"Bah!" says Bradish. "Why, I could have you and your machine thrown out +in the road this minute. But I'll give you twenty-four hours to think it +over. Remember, to-morrow night at six I'll be here with the money. Then +it will be either sell or go. Come, Captain," and with that they pikes +out.</p> + +<p>"Say, Tink," says I, "you got him comin', all right, and if you don't +get that five thousand you're no good."</p> + +<p>"I know I'm no good," says Tuttle. "That's why I don't want his money."</p> + +<p>"But see here, Tink," says I. "You ain't goin' to turn down an offer +like that, are you?"</p> + +<p>"I am," says he, "and I'll tell you why. It's because I know I'm no good +and never would be any good, even if I could live, which I can't. Oh, I +don't need any doctor to tell me how much longer I've got. They gave me +only three months over a year ago. I knew better. I knew I should hold +out until I finished my flyer. Father didn't have anything like that to +keep on for; so he went quicker. He didn't want to go, either. And it +was awful to watch him, Torchy, just awful! But I'm not going to finish +that way. No, not now," and he walks<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">273</a></span> up to the machine and runs his +hand loving along one of the smooth planes.</p> + +<p>"How's that?" says I. "What are you drivin' at, Tink?"</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you how I shall do it exactly," says he; "for I'm not +sure. But I mean to go up once; way, way up, out over the ocean just at +sunrise. Won't that be fine, eh? Just think! Sailing off up there into +the blue; up, and up, and up; higher than anyone has ever dared to go +before, higher and higher, until your gasoline gives out and you can't +go any more!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but what then?" says I, beginnin' to feel some chilly along the +spine.</p> + +<p>"Why, that's enough, isn't it?" says he. "Anyway, it's all I ask. I'll +call it all quits then."</p> + +<p>"Ah, say, cut out the tragedy!" says I. "You give me the creeps, talkin' +that rot! What you want to do is to go up for a short sail if you can, +forget to try any Hamilton stunts, and then beat it back to collect that +five thousand while the collectin's good. Say, when do you try her +again?"</p> + +<p>"At daylight to-morrow morning," says he.</p> + +<p>"Gee!" says I. "I've got a notion to stick around and watch how you come +out."</p> + +<p>"No, don't," says he. "I—I'll let you know. Yes, honest I will. +Goodnight and—good-by."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">274</a></span> He kept his word as well as he could, too. The +postmark on the card was six A.M.; but I guess it must have been dropped +in the box earlier than that. All it says is:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Twenty gallons in the tank, and I'm off at four o'clock. I shall go +straight out to sea and then up, up. I've never been much good; but +I mean to finish in style. T. T. </p></div> + +<p>Now, what would you say to a batty proposition like that? I couldn't +tell whether it was a bluff, or what. And I waits four days before I had +the nerve to go and see.</p> + +<p>Sister says she ain't seen him since last Monday. And there was no flyer +in the shed. Nobody around the place knew what had become of it, either.</p> + +<p>Well, it's been two weeks since I got that postal. What do I think? Say, +honest, I don't dare. But at night, when I'm tryin' to get to sleep, I +can see Tink, sittin' in between all them wires and things, with the +wheel in his hand, and them big eyes of his gazin' down calm and +satisfied, down, down, down, and him ready to take that one last dip to +the finish. And, say, about then I pull the sheets up over my eyes and +shiver.</p> + +<p>"Piddie," says I, "you got more sense than you look to have. Anyway, you +know when to sidestep the nutty ones, don't you?"</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">275</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2><h3>GETTING HERMES ON THE BOUNCE</h3> +</div> + +<p>Anybody might of thought, to see me sittin' there in the Ellins lib'ry, +leanin' back luxurious in a big red leather chair lookin' over the +latest magazines, that I'd been promoted from head office boy to heir +apparent or something like that. I expect some kids would have stood on +one leg in the front hall and held their breath; but why not make +yourself to home when you get the chance? I knew the boss was takin' his +time goin' through all them papers I'd brought up, and that when he +finished he'd send down word if there was any instructions to go back.</p> + +<p>That's how I come to get the benefit of all this mushy conversation that +begins to drift out from the next room. First off I couldn't make out +whether it was some one havin' a tooth plugged, or if it was a case of a +mouse bein' loose at a tea party. Course, the squeals and giggles I +could place as comin' from Miss Marjorie Ellins. Maybe you remember +about Mr. Robert's heavyweight young sister that wanted to play Juliet +once?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">276</a></span></p> + +<p>But who the other party was I didn't have an idea, except that from the +"you-alls" she was usin' I knew she must hail from somewhere south of +Baltimore.</p> + +<p>Anyway, they seemed to be too much excited to sit down while they +talked, and the first thing I knew they'd drifted into the lib'ry, their +arms twined around each other in a reg'lar schoolgirl clinch, and the +conversation just bubblin' out of 'em free.</p> + +<p>Miss Marjorie was all got up classy in pink and white, and she sure does +look like a wide, corn fed Venus. The other is a slim, willowy young +lady with a lot of home grown blond hair, a cute chin dimple, and a pair +of big dark eyes with a natural rovin' disposition. And she's hobble +skirted to the point where her feet was about as much use as if they'd +been tied in a bag.</p> + +<p>It was some kind of a long winded story she was tellin' very +confidential, with Marjorie supplyin' the exclamation points.</p> + +<p>"Really, now, was he, Mildred?" says Marjorie.</p> + +<p>"'Deed and 'deedy, he was!" says Mildred. "Positively the handsomest man +I ever saw! I thought I could forget him; but I couldn't, Madge, I +couldn't! And only think, he is coming this very night, and not a soul +knows but just us two!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">277</a></span></p> + +<p>"Excuse me," says I; "but I'm Number Three."</p> + +<p>"Oh, oh!" they both squeals at once.</p> + +<p>"Who—who's that?" whispers Mildred.</p> + +<p>"Why it's only Torchy, from Papa's office," says Marjorie. "And oh, +Mildred! He is the very one to help us! You will now, won't you, Torchy? +Come, that's a dear!"</p> + +<p>"Please do, Torchy!" says Mildred, snugglin' up on the other side and +pattin' my red hair soothin'.</p> + +<p>"Ah, say, reverse English on the tootsy business!" says I. "This ain't +any heart-throb matinee. G'wan!"</p> + +<p>"Why, Torchy!" says Marjorie, real coaxin' "I thought we were such good +friends!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm willin' to let it go that far," says I; "but don't try to +ring in any folksy strangers. I'm here on business for the firm."</p> + +<p>Just then too down comes the maid sayin' there wa'n't anything to go +back; so I starts to beat it.</p> + +<p>I didn't get far, though, with a hundred and ninety pound young lady +blockin' the doorway.</p> + +<p>"Torchy, you must help us!" says Marjorie. "There isn't anyone else we +can ask. And you're always doing such clever things for Papa and Brother +Bob!"</p> + +<p>Say, it was a puffy lot of hot air she hands out; but I admit that after +two or three more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">278</a></span> speeches like that, and with her promisin' to square +anything Piddie might have to say about not comin' back, she had me +goin'.</p> + +<p>"Well, what's the proposition?" says I.</p> + +<p>"Let's tell him all, so he will understand just what he's to do," +suggests Marjorie.</p> + +<p>And, say, you should have heard them two, with me pinned in between 'em +on the couch, givin' me the tale in a sort of chorus, both talkin' to +once and beginnin' at diff'rent ends.</p> + +<p>"It's such a romance!" squeals Marjorie.</p> + +<p>"You see, he's coming to-night," says Mildred, "and nobody knows."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I got that all down," says I; "but what's the first part? Who is +he and where's he from?"</p> + +<p>Well, it's some yarn, all right! Seems that Mildred was a boardin' +school chum of Marjorie's who'd come up from Atlanta to spend the summer +with friends in Newport. As a wind-up to the season they'd taken her on +a yachtin' trip up the coast. Such a poky old trip, too! Nobody aboard +but old married folks that played bridge all the time, and one bald +headed bachelor who couldn't sit out in the moonlight with her unless he +was wrapped up in a steamer rug.</p> + +<p>So what was a girl with eyes like Mildred's to do, anyway? She was bein' +bored to death,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">279</a></span> when, as luck would have it, something went wrong with +the propeller shaft. The yacht was 'way up off the coast of Maine at the +time, and the nearest place where it was safe to anchor was in the lee +of a barren, dinky little island. And they stays there three whole days, +while the crew tinkers things up below and the folks yawn their heads +off.</p> + +<p>All but Millie. She got so desp'rate she rowed ashore all by herself. +Accordin' to her description, that must have been a perfectly punk +little island. It was all rock, except in a few spots where there was +some scrub bushes and mangy grass. Plunk in the middle was an old shack +of a house surrounded by lobster pots and racks of codfish spread out to +dry, and she says it was the smelliest scenery she'd ever got real close +to.</p> + +<p>But Mildred was sore on the yacht and all the stupid folks on it; so she +wanders out to windward of the worst smells, plants herself on the +flattest rock she can find, and prepares to read. That's her pose when +she looks up and discovers this male party with the sun kissed locks and +the dreamy eyes standin' there gazin' at her curious.</p> + +<p>"It wasn't Adonis that I called him," says Mildred. "Who was that +stunning old Greek that we had the bust of in the school library, +Madge?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">280</a></span></p> + +<p>"Hermes?" says Marjorie.</p> + +<p>"That's it!" says Mildred. "He was a perfect Hermes; only his curly hair +was all sun bleached, and his face was tanned a lovely brown, and he had +big, broad shoulders, and—and he was smoking a pipe."</p> + +<p>"And about his eyes!" prompts Marjorie.</p> + +<p>"Oh, they were perfectly stunning," says she, "real sea blue."</p> + +<p>Well, anybody that ever read a midsummer fiction number could have +supplied the next chapters. Here's the lovely city girl, the noble +browed but unsuspectin' native, golden summer days, and no competition. +Why, with a catchy title and a few mushy pictures it would make a lovely +contribution to one of the leadin' thirty-five-centers, just as it +stood. And Mildred knew her cue, all right. She trains them front row +eyes of hers on him, opens up with a few lines of lively chatter, and +inside of half an hour she has him sittin' picturesque at her feet, +callin' him Hermes of the Lobster Pots, and otherwise workin' the siren +spell.</p> + +<p>"You must have flirted horribly with him," says Marjorie, sighin' deep +and admirin'.</p> + +<p>"What else could one do?" asks Mildred. "And it was such fun! I could +get him to say hardly anything about himself; but he was a charming +listener. He would sit and gaze at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">281</a></span> me in the most soulful, appreciative +way. Poor chap!"</p> + +<p>He must have had her guessin' some at that; for she wa'n't dead sure +whether he was a real native or not until the boss of the island shows +up. He's a hump shouldered, leather faced, bushy browed old barnacle, +with a Down East dialect that it was a dream to listen to, and it was +only when Mildred heard Hermes call him Uncle Jerry that she could +believe the two was any relation. Uncle Jerry didn't interfere, though +He let 'em moon around on the rocks without disturbin' the game, and I +judge from Millie's report that she wa'n't missin' any tricks.</p> + +<p>Yet she's right there with the heartless behavior when the time comes, +sailin' away with a gay laugh and leavin' her blue eyed young lobster +man to yearn and mourn there on his smelly little island. Anyway, that's +how she had it doped out.</p> + +<p>And it wa'n't until weeks later, when she'd had her snapshots of him +developed and printed, and got to summin' up the details in this case of +Victim B-23, that she discovers how a few of her own heartstrings has +been strained. Somehow she couldn't seem to tear them three August days +completely off the calendar; and when the other chappies come buzzin' +around, and she had a chance to frame 'em up alongside<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">282</a></span> of this fish +island hero, there wa'n't but one answer. It was Hermes for hers, every +day in the week!</p> + +<p>There he was, though, out on that mussy rock; and here she was, visitin' +in New York, leadin' the giddy life, and gettin' her gowns ready for the +Horse Show. If Millie had passed out the heartaches casual along her +former trails, here was where she gets at least one of 'em back on the +rebound.</p> + +<p>You can guess how bad an attack she had when she crosses all the new +Reggie boys off her string and cooks up this scheme of sendin' for +Hermes to come to her. Her excuse is that she wants Uncle Jerry to have +the trip of his life by coming to the great city; but incident'lly she +urges him to bring his blue eyed nephew along, and the check she sends +is big enough to cover expenses for both. Bein' one of the impulsive +kind, she does it the minute the notion strikes her; and two days later +comes this postal from Uncle Jerry, sayin' how he was much obliged, and +him and his nevvy was takin' the boat for Bosting and expected to fetch +up in New York sometime next afternoon by train.</p> + +<p>"Which is now," says Mildred. "But of course I can't go to the Grand +Central to meet him."</p> + +<p>"Why not?" says I. "Why balk at a little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">283</a></span> thing like that when you've +been doin' so well?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but, Torchy," chimes in Marjorie, "you know you could do it so much +better!"</p> + +<p>And what with both of them coaxin', and stuffin' expense money into my +pockets, the next thing I know I'm on my way down to where the Boston +trains come in, and am campin' outside the gate. I nearly wore my eyes +out, too, sizin' up the first trainload, and after an hour's wait I was +gettin' dizzy keepin' track of the second lot, when all of a sudden I +spots this old chap with the thick underbrush over his eyes and the sole +leather complexion.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you Uncle Jerry!" I sings out, takin' a chance and pushin' through +the crowd with my hand out.</p> + +<p>"Wall, how be ye?" says he, real hearty. "Don't remember seein' you +afore; but I s'pose it's all right."</p> + +<p>"Sure it is, old scout," says I. "If you're Uncle Jerry, I'm Miss +Mildred's reception committee; but where's the nephew?"</p> + +<p>"That's him," says he, jerkin' his thumb at a big, overgrown, tow haired +yawp that's trailin' along in the rear luggin' a canvas valise.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to tell me that's Hermes?" says I.</p> + +<p>"I dun'no 'bout any Hermes," says he; "but this is my sister's boy Jake, +the only nephew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">284</a></span> I got, and, bein' as how Miss Mildred asked so special, +I brought him along."</p> + +<p>Course, there's no accountin' for tastes, specially in a romantic young +lady like her; but, if this was her idea of livin' Greek statuary, she +sure was easy pleased. Why, of all the rough necked Rubes! He's one of +these loose jawed, open mouthed, lop sided youths that walks like he was +afraid of steppin' on his own feet, and looks about as much alive as a +tin rabbit that can wiggle its ears when you pull a string. His hair and +complexion was accordin' to specifications, I admit, and his eyes were +as blue as a new set of lunch counter crockery; and if he was all Uncle +Jerry could show in the nephew line, then he must be it.</p> + +<p>"All right," says I. "It ain't me that's pickin' him. Now fall in line +right behind me, and we'll work out where he won't get run down by +baggage trucks or be mistaken by excursionists for a spray of autumn +leaves."</p> + +<p>"Young lady didn't come down to the train, hey?" says Uncle Jerry.</p> + +<p>"No, it makes her kind of nervous to see the cars come in," says I. +"You're due to meet her this evenin', Uncle, you and Hermes."</p> + +<p>You see, accordin' to the plan, I was to stow the pair to some hotel, +see that they was fed, keep 'em busy durin' the early part of the +evenin', and round 'em up at a big society<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">285</a></span> crush where Marjorie knew +the folks well enough so she could ask favors. If Mildred had 'em come +where she was visitin', there'd be no end of questions asked; but if she +sort of ran across 'em by accident at a place where there was a crowd, +and could have a few words with Hermes in some quiet corner, nobody +would be the wiser.</p> + +<p>It was this last part of the programme I had in mind as I was sizin' up +Jake's travelin' costume. And, say, how is it up there in the opodeldoc +zone that they can get these high-water pant legs to fit so much like +lengths of stovepipe? They was kind of a bilious brown and cut gen'rous +in the seat; but, as far as real comic relief went, they wa'n't in it +with the cute little short tailed cutaway that he sported above 'em. +Honest, that coat was enough to make an eccentric song and dance artist +green in the eyes! And you can believe me when I say I didn't lose any +time in scootin' 'em down Fourth-ave. to a dollar a day house patronized +by some of our swellest Texas buyers. My next move is to make a report +over the 'phone.</p> + +<p>"Yep, I got 'em both under lock and key," says I to Marjorie. "Trouble +to pick em out? Ah, it was a pipe! Specimens like that ain't so common +anyone could get mixed if they knew what day to look for 'em. Yes, the +nephew's along, all right. His real name is Jake. Well,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">286</a></span> Hermes if you +insist. But, say, ask Miss Mildred if she wants him delivered in the +original package, or should I hire some open face clothes for him."</p> + +<p>The decision is that Hermes must come in a dress suit, and if he ain't +got any with him Marjorie will send down one of Mr. Robert's old ones.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm just dying to see him in evening clothes!" gushes Mildred over +the wire. "I know he'll be perfectly splendid!"</p> + +<p>"Maybe," says I. "Only don't forget the collar buttons and studs for the +dress shirt."</p> + +<p>Say, I won't dwell on the gay time I had tryin' to keep that pair out of +sight until after dinner. Honest, if I'd been drivin' the monkey cage in +a circus parade I'd felt a lot better; for every fresh gink that pipes +off that vaudeville costume of Jake's has to have his say about it. At +the hash house where I steers 'em up against a twenty-five-cent course +dinner all the girl waiters got to gigglin' like they'd never seen a +freak before.</p> + +<p>It wouldn't have been so bad with just Uncle Jerry, for he's wearin' an +old black whipcord that would pass in the dark, and, outside the rubber +collar and the plated watch chain looped across his vest, he didn't have +the crossroads tag on him very plain; but Jake might as well have had +cowbells tied to him. Maybe I wa'n't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">287</a></span> some relieved too when we got back +to the hotel and found this outfit that the girls had scraped together +and sent down.</p> + +<p>"Now we'll fix you up for the theater and high society, Jake," says I. +"By rights you ought to have some of that neck hemp sheared off; but I +don't dare let a barber loose at you, for fear Mildred wouldn't know you +after he got through. She raved a lot about that hair of yours, Jake."</p> + +<p>"You go on now, Smarty!" says Jaky boy, grinnin' expansive. "Think I'm +goin' to wear duds like them?"</p> + +<p>"You do if you appear out again with me," says I. "So peel the butternut +regalia and lemme see if I can harness you up in these."</p> + +<p>"Hee-haw!" remarks Uncle Jerry. "Let him fix you up real harnsome, +Jake."</p> + +<p>Maybe that's what I did; but I wouldn't want to swear to it. Anyway, I +got him into the dress shirt by main strength. That was the first +struggle. Then, while Uncle Jerry held him gaspin' and groanin' on the +floor, I buttoned the high collar on and fastened the white tie. Next we +ended him up on his feet and pulled on the display vest and the long +tailed coat.</p> + +<p>"Ug-g-gh! It chokes somethin' awful!" says Jake, gettin' purple faced +and panicky.</p> + +<p>"Ah, close that pie gangway of yours and breathe natural for a minute!" +says I.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">288</a></span> "There, you're feelin' better already. Come, pull them knobby +wrists back up into your sleeves. This ain't no swimmin' lesson, you +know. Say, you wear a dress suit like it was so much tin armor. What's +the matter with you, anyway!"</p> + +<p>"I—I don't know," says Jake, tryin' to stretch his head up like a +turkey. "I don't like this."</p> + +<p>"You look it," says I. "But think who's goin' to see you in it later! +First off, though, you're goin' to a show with me. Come on, now; maybe +you'll get used to bein' dressed up by eleven o'clock."</p> + +<p>"'Leven o'clock!" says Uncle Jerry. "Look here, Son, I ain't in the +habit of stayin' up all night, remember. I'll be droppin' off to sleep +for sartin'."</p> + +<p>He don't, though. All through the play, which has been a two years' +scream for Broadway, he sat as solemn as if he was on a coroner's jury +in the presence of the remains. Play actin' was new to Uncle Jerry; but +he wa'n't going to give himself away, and he was just as wide awake as +anybody in the house.</p> + +<p>With Jake it was diff'rent. I expect them washed out blue eyes of his +had taken in so many new scenes since mornin' that they couldn't absorb +any more. Anyway, he gets drowsy before the curtain goes up, and after<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">289</a></span> +he's twisted his neck until he's got it collar broken he settles back +for a comf'table snooze. He looks so calm and peaceful I didn't have the +heart to disturb him, and I only jabbed my elbows in his ribs when he +got to tunin' up the nose music too loud. Besides, I was hopin' a little +nap of two or three hours might leave him some refreshed and in better +shape for exhibitin' to Miss Mildred. For the more I saw of Jake, the +less I could understand how a real live one like Millie could stand for +three days of him, even if she did, discover him on a desert island. And +as for ravin' about him afterwards—well, you never can tell, can you?</p> + +<p>After the play it took Uncle Jerry shakin' on one side and me on the +other to bring Jake back to life from his woodsawin' act.</p> + +<p>"Ah, quit it and give the orchestra a chance!" says I. "And keep them +elbows down! Don't try to stretch here; wait until you get back to the +open fields for that. Yes, it's all over, and you're about to butt into +society; so for Heaven's sake come out of the trance!"</p> + +<p>Not havin' a stretcher handy, we drags him out to the curb, and I blows +some more of my expense account against a taxi, which lands us safe and +sound at this Fifth-ave. number up in the 70's. "Guests of Miss Marjorie +Ellins," was to be the password, and the flunky in satin pants at the +door seems to have been well posted.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">290</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; right this way, sir," says he, wavin' us down the hall and +shootin' us into a little conservatory nook. "The gentlemen from Maine +are to wait here, and you are to meet Miss Ellins at the foot of the +grand staircase. She will be down in a moment, sir."</p> + +<p>"I get you," says I, and, after cautionin' Jake to keep on his feet +until I came back, I slips out and posts myself behind a potted palm +where I could watch the early arrivals comin' down from the cloakrooms.</p> + +<p>It wa'n't a long wait; for pretty soon down floats Mildred and Marjorie, +all got up in flossy party dresses and fairly quiverin' with excitement.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you dear boy!" gushes Millie. "And he is really here, is he? My +splendid Hermes! Tell me, what did he have to say about it all?"</p> + +<p>"Who, Jake?" says I. "Mostly he was beefin' about the way his neck ached +from the collar."</p> + +<p>"Isn't that just like a man!" says Marjorie.</p> + +<p>"I don't care," says Mildred. "I am just crazy to see him once more. I +want to look into his eyes and——"</p> + +<p>"Then step lively," says I, "before they get glued up for good. Down +this way. Here you are, in there among the palms! See, there's Uncle +Jerry rubberin' around!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">291</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" squeals Millie, clappin' her hands. "Dear old Uncle Jerry! +But—but, Torchy, where is—er—his nephew?"</p> + +<p>"Eh?" says I. "Why, there on the bench, doin' the yawn act!"</p> + +<p>"Wha-a-a-at!" gasps Millie, steppin' in for a closer look.</p> + +<p>"Straight goods," says I. "That's Hermes the lobster picker."</p> + +<p>"That!" says Mildred, shrinkin' back. "Never!"</p> + +<p>"Huh!" says I. "I told him you wouldn't know him if he didn't keep that +face cavity of his closed. He's been doin' that since eight o'clock. But +he's the real article, serial number guaranteed by Uncle Jerry."</p> + +<p>"No, no!" squeals Mildred, covering her face with her hands and backin' +away. "There's been some dreadful mistake! That isn't my Hermes. He +wasn't at all like that, I tell you, not at all!"</p> + +<p>Well, we was grouped there in the hall holdin' our foolish debate, when +this strange gent strolls by huntin' for some place to light up his +cigarette. And just as one of us mentions Hermes again I notices him +turn and prick up his ears. Next thing I knew, he's stepped over and is +lookin' kind of smilin' and expectant at Mildred.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">292</a></span></p> + +<p>"I beg pardon if I'm wrong," says he; "but isn't this the—er—ah—the +young lady whom I had the pleasure of——"</p> + +<p>But that's enough for Millie, just hearin' his voice. Down comes her +hands off her face. "Oh, I knew it! I knew it!" she squeals. "Hermes!"</p> + +<p>And, say, I don't know how that old Greek looked; but if he had the +build and lines of this chap he sure was some ornamental. Anyway, the +one we had with us would have been a medal winner in any kind of +clothes. Also he had the light wavy hair and the dark blue eyes of +Millie's description, with some of the vacation tan left on his cheeks.</p> + +<p>Marjorie's the next to be heard from.</p> + +<p>"Why, Mr. Brooke Hartley!" says she, stickin' out her hand.</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" says he. "Bob Ellins' little sister, eh? Hello, Marjorie!"</p> + +<p>"Then—then——" gasps Mildred, lookin' from one to the other kind of +dazed, "then you aren't a lobster man, after all?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing so useful as that, I'm afraid," says Hartley.</p> + +<p>"But why were you there on that island?" she insists.</p> + +<p>"Well," says he, "hay fever was my chief excuse. I pretend to paint +marines, you know, and that's another; but really I suppose I was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">293</a></span> just +being lazy and enjoying the society of Uncle Jerry."</p> + +<p>"But he isn't your uncle, truly?" says Mildred.</p> + +<p>"Well," says Hartley, "it's a relationship I share with most of the +summer people on that section of the Maine coast."</p> + +<p>Then a light seemed to break on Mildred. She blushes to her eartips and +hides her face in her hands once more. "Oh, oh!" she groans. "And I +called you Hermes!"</p> + +<p>"You did," says he. "And nothing ever tickled my vanity half so much. +I've lived on that for the last two months. Please don't take it back!"</p> + +<p>"I—I won't," says Millie, lettin' loose one of them rovin' glances at +him sort of shy and fetchin'.</p> + +<p>And, say, all tinted up that way, you could hardly blame him for +grabbin' both her hands. Not knowin' what might happen next, I proceeds +to break in.</p> + +<p>"In the meantime," says I, "what'll you have done with this perfectly +good nephew we've got on our hands back there on the bench?"</p> + +<p>"That one!" says Millie. "Oh, I never want to see him again! Tell him to +go away and—and go to bed."</p> + +<p>"That'll be welcome news for Jaky, all right," says I.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">294</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2><h3>WHEN MISS VEE THREW THE DARE</h3> +</div> + +<p>Say, I guess I might as well tell it right out; for, from all I hear +about myself, my dome must have a glass top that puts all the inside +works on exhibition. There's Zenobia, for instance, who's my +half-step-adopted aunt, as you might say. Now, she ain't one to sleuth +around, or cross-examine, or anything like that; but what she's missed +of this little affair that I ain't breathed a word of to anybody is +more'n I've got the nerve to ask.</p> + +<p>Course, it was her put that corkin' silver frame on Vee's picture in the +first place. Just found it on my bureau, you know, and, without pumpin' +me for any account of who and why, goes and unbelts reckless for the +sterling decoration. A perfectly nice old girl, Zenobia is, if you ask +me. More'n a year ago that was, and there hasn't been a word passed +about that photo since.</p> + +<p>Yes, it's been on the bureau all the time. Why not? When a young lady +friend of yours is dragged off to Europe by her aunt, and sends<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">295</a></span> you a +stunnin' picture of herself for you to remember her by, you don't turn +it face to the wall or chuck it in the ashcan, do you? Maybe two years +it would be, she said, before she came back. It ain't so long to look +over your shoulder at; but when you come to try squintin' ahead that far +it's diff'rent. I tried it and gave it up. A whole lot can happen in two +years; so what was the use? Besides, look who she is, and then think of +all I ain't!</p> + +<p>Couldn't help seein' the picture there night and mornin', though, could +I? Nothin' mushy about glancin' casual at it now and then, was there? +You know I ain't got any too many friends,—not so many I has to have a +waitin' list,—and outside of Zenobia and Aunt Martha, and here and +there one of the lady typewriters at the office that throws me a smile +on and off, they're mostly men. And as for fam'ly, mother, or father, or +sisters, or brothers, or real aunts—well, you know how I'm fixed. I'm +the whole fam'ly myself.</p> + +<p>So you see, when I looks at Miss Vee there, and thinks how nice she was +to me them two times when we met by accident,—once at the dance where I +was subbin' in the cloakroom, and again at the tea where I'd been sent +to trail Mr. Robert—well, even if she hadn't been such a queen, I don't +think I'd forgot her right away. Course, though, as for figurin' out +why<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">296</a></span> she ever noticed me at all, that's a myst'ry I had to pass up.</p> + +<p>Must have been soon after she went away that I begun sizin' up some +critical the gen'ral style and get up of the party whose hair I was +combin' and whose face I was washin' more or less reg'lar. Startin' with +the collar, I discovered that mine gen'rally had saw edges, gaped in the +middle, and got some soiled about the third day. From then on I've been +particular about havin' a close front collar and puttin' on a fresh one +every mornin', whether I need it or not. Next I got wise to the fact +that one tie wouldn't last more'n six months without showin' signs of +wear, and it wa'n't long before I had quite a collection hangin' over +the gasjet. Up to then I didn't have the tooth powder habit very strong; +but it's chronic with me now. See the result?</p> + +<p>I didn't stop to give myself reasons for gettin' so finicky; but the one +main fact loomin' up ahead seemed to be that some day or other Miss Vee +would be comin' back, and that maybe I might be on hand to sort +of—well, you know how you'll frame things up? I was to be vice +president of the Corrugated by that time, most likely, and they'd be +sendin' me abroad to look up important matters. That's how it was goin' +to happen that I'd find out where Vee was stayin'. Not that I'd think of +buttin' in on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">297</a></span> her and the aunt. Not much! Just remember I'd seen Aunty!</p> + +<p>No, I was to be on the steamer, leanin' over the rail careless, when +they came aboard to go home. I was to be costumed all in gray. I don't +know just why; but it looks kind of distinguished, specially if you've +got gray hair. Not that I could count on my ruddy thatch frostin' up +much in a couple of years; but somehow nothing but gray seemed to fill +the bill. I'd planned on gettin' one of them gray tweed suits such as +Mr. Robert wears back from London, and a long gray ulster that'd make me +look tall, and a gray cloth hat to match, and gray gloves. Get the +picture?</p> + +<p>Well, there I am by the rail, lookin' sort of distinguished and bored +and all that, when up comes Miss Vee and Aunty. All I could think of Vee +wearin' was that pink silk affair she had on at the dance, which +wouldn't be exactly what a young lady'd start out on an ocean trip with, +would it?</p> + +<p>She'd be some jarred at seein' me, it's likely; but I'd lift the gray +lid real dignified, throw back the ulster so she'd get the full effect +of the tweed suit, and shoot off some remark about how "one always meets +one's most chawming friends when one travels." Then I'd be presented to +the aunt; and after that was over, why it would be just a romp down the +home stretch,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">298</a></span> with yours truly all the entry in sight. Simply a case of +me and Vee promenadin' the deck by moonlight for hours and hours, and +gettin' to be real old friends.</p> + +<p>But pipe dreams like that don't often come true, do they? I ain't got so +far as ownin' a pair of gray gloves, and not a word has been said about +makin' me vice president, when along comes this foreign picture +postcard, showin' the Boss de Bologna on one side, and on the other this +scribbled message:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>We sail for home on the 10th. Rah! Rah! Count Schlegelhessen is +coming over with us. He's a dear. V. A. H. </p></div> + +<p>Jolted! Say, I was up and down so many times durin' the next few hours +I'd most meet myself comin' and goin'. Miss Vee was on her way over! I'd +bounce at that thought, and get all kind of warmed up inside. Count +Schutzenfest is coming with her, and he's a dear! Bang! I'd strike +bottom again, with a chilly feelin' under my vest.</p> + +<p>Wa'n't anything more'n I might have looked for, of course. Aunty's one +of the kind that would pick out a Count for Miss Vee, and there was +plenty of Counts over there to be picked; but somehow I couldn't picture +Vee goin' wild over one of them foreign ginks. It was clear she had, +though. There it was on the postcard, "He's a dear!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">299</a></span></p> + +<p>"Huh!" thinks I. "Most of 'em are dear—at any price."</p> + +<p>It wa'n't for hours, either, that I simmers down enough for the thought +to strike me that I didn't have any special license to hold a court of +inquiry over whether Miss Vee was comin' back with a Count or not. After +that I had time to debate with myself whether I ought just to forgive +and forget, goin' through life cold and sad; or if I should hide my +busted heart the best way I could and pretend I didn't care.</p> + +<p>Was there any use in my goin' down to the pier and standin' in the +background to watch her come ashore with her dear Count? I could see +myself! Oh, yes, I had it all doped out along them lines! As Robert +Mantell would put it over, "She has went out of muh life for-r-r-rever." +Ah yes! I could have stood for anything but one of them sausage Counts.</p> + +<p>So I stows her picture away in the bottom bureau drawer, burns the +postcard, and dodges Zenobia's eye when she looks at me curious. It was +all over. Yet I knew to an hour when her steamer would dock, and the +mornin' of the day it was due I rolls out of the feathers at six A.M. +Just as natural as could be too, I gets out the new safety razor I'd had +hid away for a couple of months past, and inside of fifteen minutes I'd +had my first shave. Does that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">300</a></span> get by them keen eyes of Zenobia! Not for +a minute!</p> + +<p>"Ah!" says she, pattin' me sort of casual on one cheek as she comes down +to breakfast.</p> + +<p>That's all; but she not only takes in the shave, but the best blue serge +suit I've put on, and the birthday tie, and the Sunday shoes. I only +grins sheepish and slides out as soon as I can.</p> + +<p>You see, accordin' to my plans, I wouldn't have gone near that steamer +for any sum you could name. That being the case, it was odd I should +call up the pier and find out if the boat was on time at Quarantine. +Also it was some strange the way I opened up on Piddie.</p> + +<p>"Say, Mr. Piddie," says I, "any prospects of an outside run for me +to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Not in the least," says he. "I suppose, though, you would like a chance +to waste some of the company's time on the street?"</p> + +<p>"Me?" says I. "Why, I'd hate it. I was only afraid I'd have to go, with +all this inside work to be done."</p> + +<p>"Humph!" says he. "You needn't fear. I shall see that nothing of the +sort happens."</p> + +<p>"Ah, you're a bird, you are!" says I.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," says Piddie.</p> + +<p>"Then climb a tree and twitter," says I; for it made me grouchy to think +I'd let a bonehead like him get a rise out of me.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">301</a></span></p> + +<p>The more I chewed it over, though, the stronger I was for breakin' loose +about dockin' time. Maybe I didn't want to go to the pier; but if he was +bent on throwin' the gate on me, that was another proposition. I got +sorer and sorer and I was on the point of chuckin' the job at Piddie's +head and walkin' out on my own hook, when who should come stormin' in, +scowlin' and grumblin' to himself, but Mr. Robert. And he had a worse +attack than I did.</p> + +<p>"Torchy," says he, wheelin' around halfway to his office, "ring up Pier +Umpty-nine and find out when that blasted steamer is due."</p> + +<p>"The Kaiser boat?" says I. "She'll dock about two-forty-five."</p> + +<p>"Eh?" says he, some startled. "Now, how the——Never mind, though. Sure +about the time, are you?"</p> + +<p>"Yep," says I.</p> + +<p>"Dash it all!" says he. "That's Marjorie, though! Any word from the +Consolidated Bridge people yet?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet," says I, and slam goes his door.</p> + +<p>Took me three minutes by the clock to dope out the combination too, +which shows how gummed up my gears was. But when I'd fitted them two +remarks together, about Marjorie and the bridge people, and had +remembered the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">302</a></span> cablegram from Sister Marjorie sayin' how their party'd +been broken up on account of sickness and she was comin' home +alone—why, it was all like readin' it off a bulletin. Marjorie's +arrivin' durin' business hours was likely to mess up the schedule. +Course, if the bridge concern didn't send word——</p> + +<p>I'd got to that point, when in drifts my old A. D. T. runnin' mate, +Hunch Leary, draggin' his feet behind him and chewin' gum industrious. +Now Hunch don't look like a tempter. He's plain homely, that's all. But +comin' just as he did, with Piddie over there glarin' at me +suspicious—well, I just had to do it.</p> + +<p>"Sure I got blanks on me?" says Hunch. "Wot then?"</p> + +<p>Right under Piddie's nose he fixes it up too, and waits while I takes +the phony message in to Mr. Robert. It wa'n't such a raw one, either; +not as if it had sent him off to wait at some hotel. "Will try to get +around about two-thirty Trimble," was all it said. And how did we know +Trimble wouldn't try, anyway?</p> + +<p>"That settles it," says Mr. Robert, crumplin' the yellow sheet. "Torchy, +you must do the family honors."</p> + +<p>"Do which?" says I, with business of great surprise.</p> + +<p>"Meet my sister Marjorie, see that she gets through the customs without +landing in jail,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">303</a></span> and take her home in a taxi. Think you're equal to it, +eh?" says he.</p> + +<p>"I could make a stab," says I.</p> + +<p>"I'll risk that much," says he.</p> + +<p>And before there's any chance for a revise I've marched by Piddie with +my tongue out and am pikin' towards the North River with a pier pass in +one pocket and expense money in another, specially commissioned to meet +the very steamer that's bringin' in Miss Vee and her Count. All of which +shows how curious things will coincide if you use your bean a little to +help 'em along.</p> + +<p>Well, you know how it is waitin' in a push of people for a steamer. +Everybody's excited and anxious and keyed up, ready to jump at every +whistle, and stretchin' their necks for a peek down the river. It's as +catchin' as the baseball fever when you're in a mob watchin' the scores +posted. I finds myself actin' just as eager as any, and me only doin' +messenger work.</p> + +<p>Finally the boat shows up; but instead of sailin' in graceful and +prompt, she shuts off steam and lays to out in the middle of the river, +about as lifeless as a storage warehouse afloat, while a dozen or so +dinky tugs begin pushin' and pullin' to get her somewhere near the pier. +Then folks start makin' wild guesses as to which is their friends.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">304</a></span></p> + +<p>"There's Uncle Fred, Willie!" squeals a fat woman next to me, proddin' +me vigorous in the ribs.</p> + +<p>"Not mine, ma'am," says I.</p> + +<p>"Oh, excuse me," says she. "Why, there's Willie, over there. Hey, +Willie! See Uncle Fred?"</p> + +<p>It was that way all around me, and me not even doin' the wave act. After +awhile though, I spots Marjorie. There was no doubt about it being her; +for she looms up among that crowd along the rail like a prize Florida +orange in a basket of lemons. It's plain Marjorie ain't lost any weight +by her trip abroad, and she looks more like a corn fed Juliet than ever.</p> + +<p>As she wa'n't expectin' me, but was huntin' for Brother Robert, I didn't +see the sense in shoutin'. I went on lookin' over the rest of the +passengers, sort of bracin' myself for any discovery I might make. Would +they show up arm in arm, or with their heads close together, or how?</p> + +<p>I'd looked the boat over from bow to stern and back again about three +times before I happens to take another glance at Marjorie. And there, +almost hid by one side of her, was a young lady in a white sailor hat +with some straw colored hair showin' under the wide brim, and a pair of +gray eyes that I couldn't mistake anywhere. It was Vee, all right; just<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">305</a></span> +as slim and graceful and classy as ever, with the same independent tilt +to her chin, and the same Mayflower pink showin' in her cheeks.</p> + +<p>And, say, I want to tell you that about then I was glad I came! It +didn't make any difference if there was half a dozen Counts, and a Duke +and what not besides; just seein' her once more, even if I didn't get a +chance to put over a word, was worth while. And right there I makes up +my mind that, Count or no Count, I'm goin' to push to the front.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you Miss Vee!" I megaphones through my hands, just as enthusiastic +as anybody on the pier.</p> + +<p>About the third call catches her ear. She sort of starts and gazes at +the crowd kind of puzzled. There's such a mob, though, she don't pick me +out. I could see her turn to Marjorie and say something, and then I gets +wise to the fact that the four-eyed gent with the bristly hair and the +half gray set of shavin' brush mustaches, standin' next to Marjorie, was +one of their party. Miss Vee leans over and passes along some remark to +him, and he shrugs his shoulders and says something that makes 'em both +laugh.</p> + +<p>"If that's the Count," thinks I, "he's a punk specimen."</p> + +<p>A couple of minutes later the boat comes alongside and the passengers +break away from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">306</a></span> the rail to get in line for the gangplank. As I'm there +to welcome Miss Marjorie Ellins, I has to post myself near the E +section, and inside of fifteen minutes she's all through havin' her +suitcase and steamer trunk pawed over, and leavin' the hold baggage to +be claimed later, we streams out to where I had a cab waitin'.</p> + +<p>"Is it all aboard, Miss Marjorie?" says I.</p> + +<p>"Not yet," says she. "You see, I've asked Vee to come home with me for +dinner—the girl I met on the steamer. You don't mind waiting, do you?"</p> + +<p>Did I? Say, nobody would suspect it, I guess, by the grin I had on when +she and Aunty and the four-eyed party comes trailin' out.</p> + +<p>"Say, Miss Marjorie," says I, "is that Count Schutzenbund?"</p> + +<p>"Schlegelhessen," says Marjorie, "and he's a perfect——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I've heard he was," says I. "Little antique, though, ain't he?"</p> + +<p>"Why, he isn't forty!" says Marjorie. "And he's just too——"</p> + +<p>There wa'n't time for any more bouquets, though; for the trio was too +close. Must have been some of a surprise for Vee to see me waitin' +there, and for a bit she don't seem to make out just who it is. That +only lasts a second, though. Then them gray eyes of hers lights up, and +them thin lips curls into a smile,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">307</a></span> and she holds out both hands in that +quick way of hers.</p> + +<p>"Why, it's Torchy, isn't it?" says she, half laughin'.</p> + +<p>"Uh-huh," says I, lettin' the grin spread wider. "Can't shake the name +or the hair."</p> + +<p>"Never try," says she. "Look, Aunty, here's Torchy!"</p> + +<p>"Torchy?" says the wide old girl, inspectin' me doubtful through her +lorgnette. "Why, Verona, I don't remember——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, you do, Aunty," says Miss Vee. "Anyway, I've told you about +him, and it's so jolly to have some one to meet us. Thank you, Torchy. +Now let's see, Marjorie, how do we divide up? Aunty goes to her +hotel—and—and where do you go, Count?"</p> + +<p>"Me, I am—what you call—perplex," says the Count, and he sure looked +it. "But where the young ladies go, there I will follow. <i>Hein?</i>"</p> + +<p>He shrugs his shoulders again and puts on such a comical face that it's +no wonder the girls giggled. And that one act maps out the Count for me. +He's just one of them middle aged cut-ups that's amusin' to have around, +if the sessions ain't too frequent. Follow the young ladies, would he? +Say, there was only three inside seats to my taxi, and I hadn't planned +on ridin' with the driver.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">308</a></span></p> + +<p>"Lemme fix that for you, Count," says I. "Hey, Cabby!" and I whistles up +a second taxi. "What's the number, ma'am?" I asks of Aunty. "Oh, +Perzazzer hotel. Get that, Mr. Shuffer? Here you are, Count, right in +here!"</p> + +<p>"But is it that—er—the young ladies, you see," he protests. "I haf +bromise myself the bleasure to——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, that'll be all right too," says I. "They'll do the followin', +though, about a block behind. In you go, now!" and I shoves him +alongside of Aunty, shuts the door, and gives the startin' signal.</p> + +<p>Maybe it was a nervy thing, shuntin' the Count off like that, and +Marjorie seems sort of disappointed and dazed to find he ain't comin' +with us, but by the twinkle in Miss Vee's eyes I guessed I hadn't +overplayed my part. Anyway, we had a nice chatty ride on the way up, +with Marjorie doin' most of the chattin'. Looked like that was going to +be about as far as I'd figure too, for there wa'n't a chance of my +gettin' a word in edgewise; but when we fetched up in front of the +Ellins' house Miss Vee breaks in with delay orders.</p> + +<p>"No, Marjorie," says she; "you first. Run in and see if it's all right; +and if there isn't a dinner party on, or a houseful of guests, I'll +come. No, I shall wait until you do."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">309</a></span></p> + +<p>Course, she didn't plan it that way; but it gives me about six minutes +that was all to the good.</p> + +<p>"You didn't mind my sidetrackin' the Count, eh?" says I.</p> + +<p>"It was lovely—and perfectly absurd!" says Vee. "You know he bores +Aunty to death, and Aunty bores him. He had planned on meeting +Marjorie's mother, too."</p> + +<p>"Then I mussed things up, didn't I?" says I.</p> + +<p>"I believe you did it purposely, you wretch!" says she, shakin' a finger +at me.</p> + +<p>"Who wouldn't?" says I. "See what I get by it!"</p> + +<p>"Silly!" says she. "I've a mind to rumple those red curls."</p> + +<p>"Go on," says I, takin' my hat off. "They'd wiggle for joy."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll do nothing of the kind," says she. "You haven't even said you +were glad to see me."</p> + +<p>"I'm keepin' it a dead secret," says I. "What happened to Europe; was it +on the fritz?"</p> + +<p>"Poky," says she. "And they found out I was no musical genius, after +all. Aunty's disgusted with me."</p> + +<p>"She ought to take something for her taste," says I.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">310</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh!" says she, tiltin' her head on one side. "Then you still approve of +me?"</p> + +<p>"That's the only motto on my wall," says I, "only I put it stronger."</p> + +<p>"Silly!" says she once more.</p> + +<p>And then—well, I was watchin' the pink spread up her cheeks, and was +sort of gazin' into them big gray eyes, and gen'rally takin' one of them +long, lingerin' looks; and we was both leanin' back not so very far +apart, with the slides of the cab shuttin' everything else out—and then +all of a sudden I heard her sort of whisper "Well?"—and—and—Ah, say! +With a pair of cherry ripes as close as that, what else was there to do?</p> + +<p>"Why, Torchy!" says she, jumpin' away. "What made you dare——Quick, +now, here comes Marjorie. Over on the front seat! And—and perhaps I +shall see you again sometime."</p> + +<p>"Your eyesight'll be bad if you don't, Vee," says I. "Good-by."</p> + +<p>Just before the Ellins' front door closed behind her I caught the wave +of a handkerchief; so I guess she can't be so awful mad. Ride back to +the office? Say, I paid off the taxi and floated down Fifth-ave. as +light as if it was paved with gas balloons.</p> + +<p>"Huh!" grunts Mr. Robert, after I'd made<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">311</a></span> my report. "Brought home a +steamer friend, did she? Who did you say it was?"</p> + +<p>"Well, between you and me," says I, "it's Vee. You remember—the one at +the girls' boardin' school tea party when——"</p> + +<p>"Eh?" says he. "Ah, that one? Then it wasn't—er—exactly a hardship for +you to meet this particular steamer, eh, Torchy?"</p> + +<p>"Do I look it?" says I.</p> + +<p>And Mr. Robert he winks back; for, as I happen to know, he's been there +himself. It's that friendly wink though, that makes me remember puttin' +up that game on him with the fake message, and somehow I felt cheap and +mean. Here he was, treatin' me white and square, and I'd been handin' +him a piece of fresh bunk.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Robert," says I, standin' pigeontoed and flushin' up some, "you +remember that message from the bridge people—Trimble, it was signed?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," says he. "He came, all right, about a quarter to three."</p> + +<p>"Gee!" says I, and walks out.</p> + +<p>For when things start comin' your way in clusters like that, what's the +use tryin' to duck?</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>EDGAR RICE BURROUGH'S NOVELS</h2> +<p style="text-align: center; font-family:sans-serif; font-size:75%">May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.</p> + +<p style="text-decoration: underline; font-size:110%">TARZAN THE UNTAMED</p> + +<p>Tells of Tarzan's return to the life of the ape-man in his search for +vengeance on those who took from him his wife and home.</p> + +<p style="text-decoration: underline; font-size:110%">JUNGLE TALES OF TARZAN</p> + +<p>Records the many wonderful exploits by which Tarzan proves his right to +ape kingship.</p> + +<p style="text-decoration: underline; font-size:110%">A PRINCESS OF MARS</p> + +<p>Forty-three million miles from the earth—a succession of the weirdest +and most astounding adventures in fiction. John Carter, American, finds +himself on the planet Mars, battling for a beautiful woman, with the +Green Men of Mars, terrible creatures fifteen feet high, mounted on +horses like dragons.</p> + +<p style="text-decoration: underline; font-size:110%">THE GODS OF MARS</p> + +<p>Continuing John Carter's adventures on the Planet Mars, in which he does +battle against the ferocious "plant men," creatures whose mighty tails +swished their victims to instant death, and defies Issus, the terrible +Goddess of Death, whom all Mars worships and reveres.</p> + +<p style="text-decoration: underline; font-size:110%">THE WARLORD OF MARS</p> + +<p>Old acquaintances, made in the two other stories, reappear, Tars Tarkas, +Tardos Mors and others. There is a happy ending to the story in the +union of the Warlord, the title conferred upon John Carter, with Dejah +Thoris.</p> + +<p style="text-decoration: underline; font-size:110%">THUVIA, MAID OF MARS</p> + +<p>The fourth volume of the series. The story centers around the adventures +of Carthoris, the son of John Carter and Thuvia, daughter of a Martian +Emperor.</p> + +<p class="center smcap">GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK</p> + +<hr class='full' /> + +<h2>JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD'S STORIES OF ADVENTURE</h2> + +<p style="text-align: center; font-family:sans-serif; font-size:75%">May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.</p> + +<p style="text-decoration: underline; font-size:110%">THE RIVER'S END</p> + +<p>A story of the Royal Mounted Police.</p> + +<p style="text-decoration: underline; font-size:110%">THE GOLDEN SNARE</p> + +<p>Thrilling adventures in the Far Northland.</p> + +<p style="text-decoration: underline; font-size:110%">NOMADS OF THE NORTH</p> + +<p>The story of a bear-cub and a dog.</p> + +<p style="text-decoration: underline; font-size:110%">KAZAN</p> + +<p>The tale of a "quarter-strain wolf and three-quarters husky" torn +between the call of the human and his wild mate.</p> + +<p style="text-decoration: underline; font-size:110%">BAREE, SON OF KAZAN</p> + +<p>The story of the son of the blind Grey Wolf and the gallant part he +played in the lives of a man and a woman.</p> + +<p style="text-decoration: underline; font-size:110%">THE COURAGE OF CAPTAIN PLUM</p> + +<p>The story of the King of Beaver Island, a Mormon colony, and his battle +with Captain Plum.</p> + +<p style="text-decoration: underline; font-size:110%">THE DANGER TRAIL</p> + +<p>A tale of love, Indian vengeance, and a mystery of the North.</p> + +<p style="text-decoration: underline; font-size:110%">THE HUNTED WOMAN</p> + +<p>A tale of a great fight in the "valley of gold" for a woman.</p> + +<p style="text-decoration: underline; font-size:110%">THE FLOWER OF THE NORTH</p> + +<p>The story of Fort o' God, where the wild flavor of the wilderness is +blended with the courtly atmosphere of France.</p> + +<p style="text-decoration: underline; font-size:110%">THE GRIZZLY KING</p> + +<p>The story of Thor, the big grizzly.</p> + +<p style="text-decoration: underline; font-size:110%">ISOBEL</p> + +<p>A love story of the Far North.</p> + +<p style="text-decoration: underline; font-size:110%">THE WOLF HUNTERS</p> + +<p>A thrilling tale of adventure in the Canadian wilderness.</p> + +<p style="text-decoration: underline; font-size:110%">THE GOLD HUNTERS</p> + +<p>The story of adventure in the Hudson Bay wilds.</p> + +<p style="text-decoration: underline; font-size:110%">THE COURAGE OF MARGE O'DOONE</p> + +<p>Filled with exciting incidents in the land of strong men and women.</p> + +<p style="text-decoration: underline; font-size:110%">BACK TO GOD'S COUNTRY</p> + +<p>A thrilling story of the Far North. The great Photoplay was made from +this book.</p> + +<p class="center smcap">Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Torchy, by Sewell Ford + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TORCHY *** + +***** This file should be named 20626-h.htm or 20626-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/6/2/20626/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Torchy + +Author: Sewell Ford + +Illustrator: George Brehm + +Release Date: February 19, 2007 [EBook #20626] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TORCHY *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +[Illustration: I FOUND MYSELF LOOKING SQUARE INTO THEM BIG GRAY EYES. +(Frontispiece)] + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +TORCHY +BY +SEWELL FORD + +AUTHOR OF +TRYING OUT TORCHY, ETC. + +FRONTISPIECE BY +GEORGE BREHM + +NEW YORK +GROSSET & DUNLAP +PUBLISHERS + +Made in the United States of America + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +Copyright, 1909, 1910, by +SEWELL FORD + +COPYRIGHT, 1911, by +EDWARD J. CLODE + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +TO MY +TRULY USEFUL AND GENIAL FRIEND + +W. A. C. + +AT WHOSE SUGGESTION THIS +CHRONICLE OF THE DOINGS OF TORCHY +CAME TO BE MADE + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +CONTENTS + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I. Getting in with the Glory Be 1 + II. A Jolt for Piddie 18 + III. Meeting up with the Great Skid 34 + IV. Frosting the Profess 51 + V. Where Mildred Got Next 67 + VI. Shunting Brother Bill 83 + VII. Keeping Tabs on Piddie 100 + VIII. A Whirl with Kazedky 117 + IX. Down the Bumps with Cliffy 132 + X. Backing out of a Fluff Riot 148 + XI. Rung in with the Gold Spooners 162 + XII. Landing on a Side Street 177 + XIII. First Aid for the Main Stem 193 + XIV. In on the Oolong 209 + XV. Batting it up to Torchy 226 + XVI. Throwing the Line to Skid 241 + XVII. Touching on Tink Tuttle 258 + XVIII. Getting Hermes on the Bounce 275 + XIX. When Miss Vee Threw the Dare 294 + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + + + + +TORCHY + +CHAPTER I + +GETTING IN WITH THE GLORY BE + + +Sure, I was carryin' the banner. But say, I ain't one of them kids that +gets callouses on the hands doin' it. When I'm handed the fresh air on +payday, I don't choke to death over it. I goes out and rustles for +another job. And I takes my pick, too. Why not? It's just as easy. + +This time I gets a bug that the new Octopus Buildin' might have been put +up special for me. Anyway, it looked good from the outside, and I blows +in through the plate glass merry go round. The arcade was all to the +butterscotch, everything handy, from an A. D. T. stand to Turkish baths +in the basement. + +"Got any express elevators?" says I to the starter guy. + +"Think of buying the buildin', sonny?" says he. + +"There'd be room for you on the sidewalk if I did," says I. "But say, if +you can tear your eyes off the candy counter queen long enough, tell me +who's got a sign out this mornin'." + +"They're going to elect a second vice-president of the Interurban +to-day. Would that suit you?" says he, twistin' up his lip whisker and +lookin' cute. + +"Maybe," says I; "but I'd take a portfolio as head office boy if I knew +where to butt in." + +"Then chase up to 2146," says he. "You'll find 'em waitin' for you with +a net. Here's your car. Up!" and before I knows it I has done the +skyrocket act up to floor twenty-one. + +Well say, you wouldn't have thought so many kids read the want ads. and +had the courage to tackle an early breakfast. The corridor was full of +'em, all sizes, all kinds. It looked like recess time at a boys' orphan +asylum, and with me against the field I stood to be a sure loser. I +hadn't no more'n climbed out before they starts to throw the josh my +way. + +"Hey, Reddy, get in line! The foot for yours, Peachblow!" they yells at +me. + +And then I comes back. "Ah, flag it!" says I. "Do I look like I belonged +in your class? Brush by, you three-dollar pikers, and give a salaried +man a show!" + +With that I makes a quick rush at 2146 and gets through the door before +they has time to make a howl. The letterin' on the ground glass was +what got me. It said as how this was the home office of the Glory Be +Mining Company, and there was a string of high-toned names as long as +your arm. But the minute I sizes up the inside exhibit I wasn't so +anxious. I was lookin' for about a thousand feet of floor space; but all +I could see was a couple of six by nines, includin' a clothes closet and +a corner washbowl. There was a grand aggregation of two as an office +force. One was a young lady key pounder, with enough hair piled on top +of her head to stuff a mattress. The other was a long faced young feller +with an ostrich neck and a voice that sounded like a squeaky door. + +"Go outside!" says he, wavin' his hands and puttin' on a weary look. +"Mr. Pepper can't see any of you until he has finished with the mail. +Now run along." + +"I can't," says I; "my feet won't let me. Is that the Pepper box in +there?" + +The door was open a foot or two; so I steps up to take a peek at the +main squeeze. And say, the minute I sees him I knew he'd do. He wa'n't +one of these dried up whiskered freaks, nor he wa'n't any human hog, +with no neck and three chins. He was the kind of a gent you see comin' +out of them swell cafes, and he looked like a winner, Mr. Belmont Pepper +did. His breakfast seemed to be settin' as well as his coat collar, and +you could tell with one eye that he wouldn't come snoopin' around early +in the day, nor hang around the shop after five. Pepper has his heels up +on the rolltop, burnin' a real Havana. That's the kind of a boss I +likes. I lays out to connect, too. + +"Say," says I to the long faced duck, "you hold your breath a minute and +I'll be back!" + +Then I steps outside, yanks the "Boy Wanted" sign off the nail, and says +to the crowd good and brisk, just as though I come direct from +headquarters: + +"It's all over, kids, and unless you're waitin' to have a group picture +taken you'd better hit the elevator." + +Wow! There was call for another sudden move just then. I was lookin' for +that, though, and by the time the first two of 'em struck the door I was +on the other side with the key turned. Riot? Well say, you'd thought I'd +pinched the only job in New York! They kicked on the door and yelled +through the transom and got themselves all worked up. + +The lady key pounder grabs hold of both sides of her table and almost +swallows her tuttifrutti, the ostrich necked chap turns pea green, and +Mr. Pepper swings his door open and sings out, real cheerful: + +"Mr. Sweetwater, can't you get yourself mobbed without being so noisy +about it? What's up, anyway?" + +But Sweetwater wasn't a lightnin' calculator. He stands there with his +mouth open, gawpin' at me, and tryin' to figure out what's broke loose; +so I pushes to the front and helps him out. + +"There's a bunch of also rans out there, Mr. Pepper," says I, "that +don't know when to fade. They're just grouchy because I've swiped the +job." + +I was lookin' for him to sit up at that; but he don't. "What makes you +think that you've got it!" says he. + +"'Cause I'm in and they're out," says I. "Anyway, they're a lot of +dopes, and a man like you wants a live one around. That's me. Where do I +begin?" And I chucks the sign into a waste basket and hangs my cap on a +hook. + +Now, that ain't any system you can follow reg'lar. I don't often do it +that way, 'cause I ain't any fonder of bein' thrown through a door than +the next one. But this was a long shot and I was willin' to run the +risk. That fat headed starter knew he was steerin' me up against a mob; +so I was just achin' to squeeze the lemon in his eye by makin' good. + +For awhile, though, I couldn't tell whether I was up in a balloon or let +in on the ground floor. Mr. Pepper was givin' me the search warrant +look-over, and I see he's one of these gents that you can't jar easy. I +hadn't rushed him off his feet by my through the center play. There was +still plenty of chance of my gettin' the low tackle. + +"If I might ask," says he, smooth as a silk lid, "what is your name?" + +"Ah, w'at's the use?" says I, duckin' my head. "Look at that hair! You +might's well begin callin' me Torchy; you'd come to it." + +He didn't grin nor nothin'; but only I see his eyes wrinkle a little at +the corners. "Very well, Torchy," says he. "I suppose you have your +references?" + +"Nah, I ain't," says I. "But if you're stuck on such things I can get +'em. There's a feller down on Ann-st. that'll write beauts for a quarter +a throw." + +"So?" says he. "Then we'll pass that point. Why did you leave your last +place?" + +"By request," says I. "The stiff gives me the fire. He said I was too +fresh." + +"He was mistaken, I suppose," says Mr. Pepper. "You're not fresh, are +you?" + +"Well say, I ain't no last year's limed egg," says I. "If you're lookin' +for somethin' that's been in the brine all winter, you'd better put the +hook in again." + +He rubs his chin at that. "Do you like hard work?" says he. + +"Think I'd be chasin' up an office boy snap, if I did?" says I. + +He takes a minute or so to let that soak in, knockin' his cigar ashes +off on the rug in that careless way a man that ain't married does, and +then he springs another. + +"I presume that if you were left alone in the office occasionally," says +he, "you could learn to run the business?" + +"Nix, not!" says I. "When I plays myself for a confidential manager I +wants to pull down more than four per. Givin' book agents the quick back +up and runnin' errands is my strong points. For tips on the market and +such as that I charges overtime." + +Course, I'd figured it was all off by then, seein' as how I hadn't rung +the bell at any crack. That's why I was so free with the hot air. Mr. +Pepper, he squints at me good and hard, and then pushes the call button. + +"Mr. Sweetwater," says he, "this young man's name is Torchy. I've +persuaded him to assist us in running the affairs of the Glory Be Mining +Company. Put him on the payroll at five a week, and then induce that +mass meeting in the corridor to adjourn." + +"Say," says I, "does that mean I'm picked?" + +"You're the chosen one," says he. + +"Gee!" says I. "You had me guessin', though! But you ain't drawn any +blank. I'll shinny on your side, Mr. Pepper, as long's you'll let +me--and that's no gust of wind, either." + +And say, inside of three days I'd got the minin' business down to a +science. Course it was a cinch. All I has to do is fold bunches of +circulars, stick stamps on the envelopes, and lug 'em up to the general +P. O. once a day. That, and chasin' out after a dollar's worth of cigars +now and then for Mr. Pepper, and keepin' Sweetie jollied along, didn't +make me round shouldered. + +Sweetie was cut out for the undertakin' business, by rights. He took +things hard, he did. Every tick of the clock was a solemn moment for +him, and me gettin' a stamp on crooked was a case that called for a +heart to heart talk. He used to show me the books he was keepin', and +the writin' was as reg'lar as if it'd been done on a job press. + +"You're a wonder, you are, Sweetie," says I; "but some day your hand is +going to joggle, and there'll be a blot on them pages, and then you'll +die of heart disease." + +Miss Allen, the typewriter fairy, was a good deal of a frost. She was +one of the kind that would blow her lunch money on havin' her hair done +like some actress, and worry through the week on an apple and two pieces +of fudge at noon. I never had much use for her. She called me just Boy, +as though I wa'n't hardly human at all. She'd sit and pat that hair of +hers by the hour, feelin' to see if all the diff'rent waves and bunches +was still there. It was a work of art, all right; but it didn't leave +her time to think of much else. I used to get her wild by askin' how the +six other sisters was comin' on these days. + +We didn't have any great rush of customers in the office. About twice a +day some one would stray in; but gen'rally they was lookin' for other +parties, and we didn't take in money enough over the counter to pay the +towel bill. It had me worried some, until I tumbles that the Glory Be +was a mail order snap. + +All them circulars we sent out told about the mine. And say, after I'd +read one of 'em I didn't see how it was we didn't have a crowd throwin' +money at us. It was good readin', too, almost as excitin' as a nickel +lib'ry. I'd never been right next to a gold mine before, and it got me +bug eyed just thinkin' about it. + +Why, this mine of ours was one that the Injuns had kept hid for years +and years, killin' off every white man that stuck his nose into the same +county. But after awhile a feller by the name of Dakota Dan turned +Injun, got himself adopted by the tribe, and monkeyed around until he +found the mine. It near blinded him the first squint he got of them big +chunks of gold. The Injuns caught him at it and finished the business +with hot irons. Then they roasted him over a fire some and turned him +loose to enjoy himself. He was tougher'n a motorman, though. He didn't +die for years after that; but he never said nothin' about the gold mine +until he was nearly all in. Then he told his oldest boy the tale and +gave him a map of the place, makin' him swear he'd never go near it. The +boy stuck to it, too. He grew up and kept a grocery store, and it wa'n't +until after he'd died of lockjaw from runnin' a rusty nail in his hand +and the widow had sold out the store to a Swede that the map showed up. +The Swede swapped the map to a soap drummer for half a dozen cakes of +scented shaving sticks, and the drummer goes explorin'. + +He had a soap drummer's luck. He didn't find any Injuns left. Most of +'em had died off and the rest had joined Wild West shows. The gold mine +was there, though, with chunks of solid gold lyin' around as big as +peach baskets. Mr. Drummer looks until his eyes ache, and then he hikes +himself back East to get up a comp'ny to work the mine. He'd just made +plans to build a solid gold mansion on Fifth-ave. and hire John D. +Rockefeller for a butler, when he strays into one of these Gospel +missions and gets religion so hard that he can't shake it. Then he sees +how selfish it would be to keep all that gold for himself. "But how'll +I divvy it?" says he. "And who with?" + +Then he decides that he'll divide with ministers, because they'll use it +best. So he gets up this Glory Be Mining Company, and hires Mr. Pepper +to sell the stock at twenty-five cents a share to all the preachers in +the country. + +Blamed if it wa'n't straight goods! I looked on the letters we sent out, +and every last one of 'em was to ministers. Talk about your easy money! +This was like pickin' it off the bushes. Mr. Pepper shows 'em how they +can put in fifty or a hundred dollars and in three or four years be +pullin' out their thousands in dividends. + +You'd thought they'd came a runnin' at a chance like that, wouldn't you? +There we was givin' 'em a private hunch on a proposition that was all +velvet. But say, only about one in ten ever hands us a comeback. It was +enough to make a man turn the hose on his grandmother. + +Course, a few of 'em did loosen up and send on real money. I used to +stand around and pipe off the boss while he shucked the mail, and I +could tell whether it was fat or lean by the time it took him to eat +lunch. The days when I was sent out to cash five or six money orders, +and soak away a bunch of checks, he'd call a cab at twelve-thirty and +wouldn't come back until near four; but when there wa'n't much doin' +he'd send out for a tray and put in the afternoon dictatin' names and +addresses to Miss Allen. + +Then there come a slack spell that lasted for a couple of weeks, and we +didn't get hardly any mail at all, except from some crank out in +Illinois that had splurged on a whole ten dollars' worth of shares, and +wrote in about every other day wantin' to know when the dividends was +goin' to begin comin' his way. I heard Miss Allen talkin' it over with +Sweetie. + +It was along about then that this duck from the post-office buildin' +showed up. He comes gumshoein' around one noon hour, while I was all by +my lonesome, and he asks a whole lot of questions that I'd forgot the +answer to. I was tellin' the boss about him that night around closin' up +time. + +"I sized him up for one of them cheap skates from the Marshal's office," +says I. "I didn't know what his game was and I wa'n't goin' to give up +all I knew to him; so I tells him to call around to-morrow and you'll +load him up with all the information his nut can hold. Was that right?" + +Mr. Pepper seems to be mighty int'rested for awhile; but then he grins, +pats me on the shoulder, and says: "That was just right, Torchy, exactly +right. I couldn't have done it better myself." + +But half an hour later, after Miss Allen has stuck her gum on the +paperweight and skipped, and Sweetwater has slid out too, and just as I +was gettin' ready to call it a day, Mr. Pepper calls me in on the rug. + +"Torchy," says he, "during the brief period that we have been associated +in business I have found your services very valuable and your society +very cheering. In other words, Torchy, you're all right." + +"There's a pair of us, then," says I. "You're as good as they make them, +Mr. Pepper." + +"Thanks, Torchy," says he, "thanks." Then he looks out of the window for +a minute before he asks how I'd like a two-weeks' vacation with pay. + +"Well," says I, "seein' as how Coney's froze up, and Palm Beach don't +agree with my health, I'd just as soon put them two weeks in storage +until July." + +"I see," says he; "but the fact is, Torchy, I've had a sudden call to go +West." + +"Out to the Glory Be mine?" says I. + +"You've guessed it," says he. "And I am taking this opportunity for +releasing Sweetwater and Miss Allen." + +"They ain't much use, anyway," says I. "But you wouldn't shut up the +shop for fair, would you? Don't you want some one on hand to answer +fool questions, or steer cranks off like that post-office guy that's +comin' to-morrow? Unless you think I'd hook the rolltop or pinch the +letterpress, you'd better leave me sittin' on the lid." + +Well, sir, he seemed to take to that notion, and the next thing I knows +I'm tellin him about my scheme of wantin' to save up enough dough to pay +for a little bunch of them Glory Be stocks. + +"It's a shame to waste all that good money on people that don't know a +cinch when it's passed out to 'em," says I, "and I've been thinkin' that +if I hung to the business long enough maybe I'd have a show to buy in." + +Say, you couldn't guess what Mr. Pepper up and does then. He opens the +safe, counts out a hundred shares of Glory Be common, and fills out the +transfer to me right on the spot. + +"Now, Torchy," says he, "it will cost you five weeks' salary to pay for +these; but if I raise you a dollar a week and take it out a little at a +time you'll never miss it. Anyway, you're a shareholder from now on." + +Did you ever get rich all of a sudden, like that! You feel it first up +and down the small of your back, and then it goes to your knees. I +couldn't say a blamed word that was sensible. I don't know just what I +did say, and I never come to until after Mr. Pepper'd finished up and +gone, leavin' me with two-weeks' pay in my pocket, and a big envelope +full of them Glory Be shares, all printed in gold and purple ink, with a +picture of Dakota Dan in the middle. + +I couldn't eat a bite of supper that night, and I puts in the evenin' +readin' over them pamphlets we'd been sendin' out until I knew every +word of it by heart. I'll bet I got up and hid them stocks in a dozen +diff'rent places before mornin', and an hour before bankin' time I was +sittin' on the steps of the Treasury Trust concern, waitin' to hire one +of them steel pigeon-holes down in the vaults. After I'd got the +envelope stowed away and tied the key around my neck with a string, I +goes back to the office. Sweetie and Miss Allen was there, with their +hammers goin'. They'd found their blue tickets and their week's pay and +was just clearin' out. + +"I'd been planning to make a change for the last two weeks," says Miss +Allen. "I was looking for something like this." + +"Me too," says Sweetie. "It's rough on Torchy, though." + +"Say, don't you waste any sympathy on me," says I, "and don't let off +any more knocks at Mr. Pepper. I won't stand for it!" + +With that they snickers and does a slow exit. That leaves me runnin' the +gold minin' business single handed; but me bein' one of the firm, as +you might say, it was all right. I'd always had a notion that I'd be a +plute some day; but honest, I wa'n't expectin' it so sudden. I was just +tryin' to get used to it, when the door opens and in drifts that guy +from the Marshal's office. + +"Where's Mr. Belmont Pepper?" says he. + +"Well," says I, "the last time I saw him he was headed west." + +"Skipped out!" says the gent, doin' the foiled villyun stunt with his +face. + +"Skipped nothin'," says I. "Mr. Pepper's gone out to look after the +mine." + +"Oh, he's gone to the mine, has he?" says the duck. "See here, kid, I'm +a United States Deputy Marshal. Don't you try to tell me any fairy +stories, or you'll pull down trouble. We want your Mr. Pepper, and we +want him bad! He's a crook." + +Well say, it was a hot argument we had. He tries to tell me that this +minin' business is all a bunko game, and that there's a paper out for +the boss. Then he camps down in the private office and says he'll wait +until Mr. Pepper shows up. He makes a stab at it, too, and a nice long +wait he has. I stuck it out for two weeks with him, tryin' to beat it +into his head that the Glory Be mine was a real gilt edged proposition. +I'd have been there yet, only they comes and lugs off all the desks and +things and makes me give up the keys. + +Say, it was a tough deal, all right. It was some jay that stirred up all +the muss, howlin' for his coin that he thought he'd lost. But look at +the hole I'm in, after bein' so brash to Mr. Pepper about stayin' on the +lid, and him lettin' me write my own valuation ticket! How do I square +it with him when he comes back and finds I've stood around and seen him +closed out? + +Old Velvet Foot, the deputy, says if the boss comes back at all he'll be +wearin' a diff'rent face and flaggin' under another name. But I know +better. He's as square as a pavin' block. If he wa'n't, why was he +distributin' Glory Be stocks among fool outsiders, instead of keepin' it +in the fam'ly? + +"Ah, brush your belfry!" says I. "Your mind needs chloride of lime on +it." + +But say, shareholder or not, I've got to plug the market for somethin' +that'll pass with the landlady. I've been livin' on crullers and coffee +for two days now, and that starter guy says if I don't quit hangin' +around the arcade he'll have me pinched. I've wrote out a note to leave +for Mr. Pepper, and I guess it's up to me to frisk another job. + +You don't know where they want a near-plute as temp'rary office boy, do +you? + + + + +CHAPTER II + +A JOLT FOR PIDDIE + + +It's a case of "comin' up, up" with me. Sure as ever! Ain't I got stock +in a gold mine? And now I'm in with the Corrugated Trust. Why, say, two +moves more and I'll be first vice-president. There's only his door, and +the general manager's, and then me. + +I'm behind the brass rail, next to the spring water. When you have the +front to push through the plate glass, you see me first. If I likes your +looks, and your card reads right, maybe I gives you a peek at Mr. +Piddie. Anyone that gets past Piddie's a bird. He's the Inside Brother, +Keeper of the Seal, Watch on the Rhine, and a lot more. He draws down +salary for bein' confidential secretary to the G. M.; but Con. Sec. +don't half cover it. He keeps the run of everything, from what the last +quarterly dividend was down to how many tubs of pins is used by the +office force every month. + +I'd never made good with Piddie in a month of Yom Kippurs if it hadn't +been for Old Heavyweight, the main squeeze. Piddie had ten of us lined +up for the elimination test, and was puttin' us through the catechism +and the civil service, when in pads Mr. Ellins--you know, Hickory +Ellins. Ever see our V. P.? Say, he uses up cloth enough in his vest to +make me a whole suit. + +He's a ripe old sport, with a complexion like an Easter egg, and a pair +o' blinks that'd look a hole through a chilled steel vault. He runs us +over without losin' step, sticks out a finger as he goes by, and says +over his shoulder, "Piddie, take that one!" + +Me, I was in range. Piddie made a bluff at goin' on with the third +degree business; but the other entries begins to edge for the door. I +was the one best bet; so what was the use? See what it is to have a +thirty-two candle power thatch? He couldn't have missed me, less'n he'd +been color blind. There's worse things can happen to you than red hair, +all right. + +Piddie was sore on me from the start, though. He'd made up his mind to +tag a nice little mommer's boy, with a tow colored top and a girly +voice. Them's the kind that forgets to bring back change and always has +stamps to sell. Oh, I sized up Piddie for a two by four right at the get +away; but I've been keepin' him jollied along just for the fun of it. + +"J. Hemmingway Piddie" is the way he has it printed. Think of wastin' +all them letters, when just plain Piddie is as good as seein' a strip +of pingpong pictures of him! He's mostly up and down, Piddie is, like +he'd been pulled out of a bundle of laths, and he's got one of these +inquisitive noses that's sharp enough to file bills on. + +Refined conversation is Piddie's strong hold. It bubbles out of him like +steam out of the oatmeal kettle. Sounds that way, too. You know these +mush eaters, with their, "Ah, I'm su-ah, quite su-ah, doncher know"? +He's got that kind of lingo down to an art. I'll bet he could talk it in +his sleep. I've heard 'em before; but I never looked to hold a sit. +under one. + +It's a privilege, though, bein' so close to Piddie. If I don't forget +all the things he tells me, and follows 'em, I'll be made over new in a +month more. He begins with my name. Torchy don't fit right with him. It +might do for some places he didn't mention, but not for the home offices +of the Corrugated Trust. + +"Maybe you'd like Reginald better!" says I. + +"But--er--aw--is that your baptismal name, my boy?" says he. + +"Nix," says I. "I'm no Baptist. And, anyway, I couldn't give up my real +name, cause I'm travelin' incog., and me noble relatives would be +shocked if they knew I was really workin'. You can call me Torchy, or +Reginald, whichever you think of first, and if you be careful to say it +real nice maybe I'll come." + +Every time I throws a jolt like that into J. Hemmingway, he looks kind +of stunned and goes off to chew it over. But he gets even all right. +Sometimes he'll take a whole forenoon to dig up somethin' he thinks is +goin' to give me the double cross. + +Most of his spare time, though, he puts in tellin' me about how I'm to +behave when Mr. Robert comes back. For the first few days I had an idea +Mr. Robert was the pulley that carried the big belt, and that when he +stopped there was a general shut down. I got nervous watchin' for him. +Then I rounds up the fact that he's Bob Ellins, who cuts more ice in the +society columns than he does in the Wall Street notes. + +Piddie has him down for a little tin god, all right, and that wa'n't +such a fool move of Piddie's, either. Some day Hickory Ellins will have +to quit and take the hot baths regular, and then Mr. Robert will get +acquainted with an eight o'clock breakfast. See where Piddie comes in? +He's takin' out insurance on his job. He needs it bad enough. If I ever +get to think as much of a job as Piddie does of his, I'll have some one +nail me to the office chair. + +Rule No. 1 on my card was never to let anyone through the brass gate +unless they belonged inside or had a special permit. Piddie wants to +know if I've ever had any experience with that kind of work. + +"Say, where do you think I've been!" says I. "Why, I did that trick for +six months, shuntin' dopes away from the Sunday editor's door, and there +was times when nothin' but a club would keep some of 'em out. Back to +the bridge, Piddie! When I'm on the gate it's just as good as though +you'd set the time lock." + +Well, I'd been there over one payday and halfway to the next, when one +mornin' about ten-thirty the door comes open with a bang, and in steps a +husky young gent, swingin' one of these dinky, leather-covered canes, +and lookin' like money from the mint. He didn't make any play to draw a +card, same's they generally does; but steers straight for the brass +gate, full tilt. I never says a word; but just as he reaches over to +spring the catch and break in, I shoves my foot out and blocks it at the +bottom, bringin' him up all standin'. + +"Say, this ain't no ferryhouse," says I. + +"Hello!" says he. "A new one, eh?" + +"I ain't any Fourth-ave. antique," says I; "but I'm over seven. Was you +wantin' to see anyone special?" + +He seems to think that's a joke. "Why," says he, "I am Mr. Ellins." + +"G'wan!" says I. "You ain't half of him." + +That reaches his funnybone, too. "You're perfectly right, young man," +says he; "but I happen to be his son. Now are you satisfied?" + +"Nope," says I. "That bluff don't go either. If you was Mr. Robert I'd +have been struck by lightnin' long 'fore this. You've got one more +guess." + +Just then I hears a gurgle, like some one's bein' choked with a chicken +bone, and I squints around behind. There was Piddie, lookin' like the +buildin' was fallin' down and tryin' to uncork some remarks. + +"Ah, Piddie!" says the gent. "Perhaps you will introduce me to your new +sentry and give me the password." + +Well, Piddie did. He almost got on his hands and knees doin' it. And +say, blamed if the duck wa'n't Mr. Robert, after all! + +"Gee!" says I, "that was a bad break." + +That didn't soothe Piddie, though. He used up the best part of an hour +tryin' to tell me what an awful thing I'd gone and done. + +"This ends you, young man!" he says. "You're as good as discharged this +very moment." + +"Is that all?" says I. "Why, by the way you've been takin' on I figured +on nothin' less than sudden death. But if it's only bein' fired, don't +you worry. I've had that happen to me so often that I get uneasy without +it. If I should wear a stripe for every time the can's been tied to me, +my sleeves would look like a couple of barber's poles. Cheer up, Piddie! +Maybe they'll let you pick out somethin' that suits you better next +time." + +He couldn't get over it, though. Along about lunch time he comes out to +me, as solemn as though he's servin' a warrant for homicide, and says +that Mr. Robert will attend to my case now. + +"Piddie," says I, givin' him the partin' grip, "you've been a true +friend of mine. When you hear me hit the asphalt, send out for a +chocolate ice cream soda and drown your sorrow." + +Then I turns down a page in "Old Sleuth's Revenge" and goes to the +slaughter. + +Mr. Robert has just talked about three cylinders full of answers to the +letters that's piled up while he's been gone, and as the girl goes out +with the records he whirls around in the mahogany easy-chair and takes a +good long look at me. + +"If it comes as hard as all that," says I, "I'll write out my +resignation." + +"Mr. Piddie's been talking to you, I suppose?" says he. + +"He's done everything but say mass over me," says I. + +"Piddie is a good deal of an----" then he pulls up. "Where the deuce +did he find you?" + +"It wasn't him found me," says I; "it was a case of me findin' him; but +if it hadn't been for your old man's buttin' in, that's all the good it +would have done me." + +"Ah!" says he. "That explains the mystery. By the way, son, what do they +call you?" + +"Guess," says I, and runs me fingers through it. "Just Torchy, and it +suits me as well as Percival or Montgomery." + +"Torchy is certainly descriptive," says he. "How long have you been +doing office work?" + +"Ever since I could lift a waste basket," says I. + +"Are you ambitious?" says he. + +"Sure!" says I. "I'm waitin' for some bank president to adopt me." + +"You came in here expecting to be discharged, I presume?" says he. + +"What, me?" says I. "Nah! I thought you was goin' to ask me over to the +Caffy Martang for lunch." + +For a minute or so after that he looks me straight in the eye, and I +gives him the same. And say, for the kind, he ain't so worse. Course, I +wouldn't swap him for Mr. Belmont Pepper, who's the only boss I ever had +that I calls the real thing; but Mr. Robert would get a ratin' +anywhere. + +"Torchy," says he after a bit, "I'm inclined to think that you'll do. +Have a chair." + +"Don't I get the blue ticket, then?" says I. + +"No," says he, "not until you do something worse than obey orders. +Besides you're the cheekiest youth that has ever graced the offices of +the Corrugated Trust, and once in awhile we have use for just such a +quality. For instance, I am tempted to send you on a very important +errand of my own. Wait a moment while I think it over." + +"Time out!" says I. + +Well say, I didn't know what was comin', he took so long makin' up his +mind. But Mr. Robert ain't one of the kind to go off half cocked. He's +got somethin' on his shoulders besides tailor's paddin', and when he +sets the wheels to movin' you can gamble that he's gettin' somewhere. +After awhile he slaps his knee and says: + +"No, there isn't another person around the place who would know how to +go about it. Torchy, I'm going to try you out!" + +It wasn't anything like I'd ever been up against before. He hands me an +express receipt and says he wants me to go over to Jersey City and get +what that calls for without landin' in jail. + +"You'll see a bundle done up in burlap somewhere around the express +office," says he, "a big bundle. It looks like a side of veal; but it +isn't. It's a deer, one that I shot four days ago up north. Torchy, did +you know that it was illegal to shoot deer during certain months of the +year?" + +"You can be pinched for shootin' craps any time," says I. + +"Really?" says he. + +Then he goes on with his tale, givin' me all the partic'lars, so I +wouldn't make any batty moves. And say, they can think up some queer +stunts, hangin' around the club of an afternoon and lookin' out at +Fifth-ave. through the small end of a glass. This was one of them real +clubby dreams. It started by Mr. Robert countin' himself in on a debate +that he didn't know the beginning of. + +"When they asked me if I could do it, I said, 'Of course I can,'" says +he, "and then I asked what it was." + +The bunch had been gassin' about an old gun hangin' over the fireplace. +It was one of these old-timers, like they tell about Daniel Boone's +havin', in the Nickel Libr'ies, the kind you load with a stove poker. +Flintlocks--that's it! They was wonderin' if there was anyone left that +could take a relic like that out in the woods and hit anything besides +the atmosphere. And the first thing Mr. Robert knows he has been joshed +into bettin' a hatful of yellowbacks that he can take old Injun killer +out and bring back enough deer meat to feed the crowd--and him knowin' +no more about that sort of act than a one-legged man does about skatin'! +They gives him two weeks to do it in. + +That wa'n't the worst of it, though, accordin' to him. They passes the +word around until everyone that knows him is on the broad grin. The joke +is handed across billiard tables between shots, and is circulated around +the boxes at the opera. It's the best ever; for Mr. Robert has never +hunted anything livelier than a Welsh rabbit, after the show. + +He's a boy that likes to make good, though. He never makes a brag; but +he boxes up that old shootin' iron and drops out of sight. 'Way up in +the woods somewhere he digs up an old b'gosh artist that was brought up +with one of them guns in his hand, and he takes a private course. After +he's used up a keg of powder shootin' at tin cans they start out to find +where the deers roost. They find 'em, too. Mr. Robert is so rattled that +he misses the one he aims at; but he bores a tunnel through another in +the next lot. + +Course, he thinks he's got a cinch then. He hustles to the nearest flag +station and spends eight dollars sendin' telegrams to the bunch, +invitin' 'em to a venison feed at the club. Then he has his game sewed +up neat in meal bags and expressed to John Doe, Jersey City. See how +cute he was? He'd heard about the game laws by that time; so he lays his +plans to duck any trouble. But he hadn't counted on that gang tippin' +off the Jersey game wardens, nor on their trailin' the baggage and +express bundles with huntin' dogs. + +"The dogs had smelled it out just as I came in to claim it," says he; +"so all I could do was to keep my mouth closed, standing around and +looking foolish until I got tired and came away. And that, Torchy, is +the situation up to the present moment. My venison is under guard over +in Jersey City, and if it isn't delivered at the club by six o'clock +to-night I shall not only lose my bet, but have my life made miserable +from cheap jokes for months to come. It occurred to me that if your wits +were as bright as the hair that covers them, you might be able to help +me out. What do you think?" + +"Chee!" says I, scratchin' me bonfire, "I guess I'm down the coal chute. +I've rescued locked-in typewriter girls from fire escapes, and lied the +boss out of a family row; but I never tried my hand at kidnappin' enough +meat for a dinner party. How about buyin' off the game sleuth?" + +"He has been bought by the other side," says Mr. Robert. "He wouldn't +dare to sell them out." + +Well, I thunk some more thinks just as punky as that, and then we +settles it that I'm to hike over and take a squint, anyway. I gets him +to give me a line on what kind of a looker the warden was, and he throws +me a couple of tens for campaign expenses. I was just stowin' away the +green stuff as I goes through the outside office, and Piddie's eyebrows +go up. + +"They're goin' to let me finish out the week," says I. "Ain't they the +gentle things?" + +Then I skips out for the 23d-st. boat, leavin' Piddie with his mouth +open, and Mr. Robert wrapped up with the idea that, some way or other, +I'm goin' to talk that game cop into a dope dream and rescue the roast. + +But, say, I didn't need to look twice at that snoozer to see that no +line of hot air I had in stock would soften him up. He had an undershot +jaw, a pair of eyes that saw both sides of the street at once, and a +head like a choppin' block. He was sittin' right alongside of that +burlap bundle, waitin' to spring his tin badge on some one. + +"Do they send such things as that through without cratin'?" says I to a +guy behind the chicken wire, jerkin' me thumb at Mr. Sleuth. "What's the +label on him?" + +"That's Mr. Hinkey Tolliver, special officer," says he. "Better look +out or he'll break a hand grenade on that still alarm of yours." + +"Ah, back to the blotter!" says I. "Who gave you any license to make +funny cracks on my Mrs. Leslie Carter disguise?" + +We swapped a few more like that, while I sizes up Hinkey, tryin' to map +out a way to brace him. But it was a losin' proposition. He has one of +them eyes nailed to what I wanted to take away and the other trained on +the door, and you could tell by the way he held his jaw that nothin' +short of an earthquake would jar him loose. + +It was too much for me. If it hadn't been that Mr. Robert had put it up +to me so flat, I'd have quit then. But I couldn't lay down with just a +look; so I takes a turn around into the passenger waitin' room, battin' +my head for a new line. + +I guess it was kind of second sight that steers me over into the corner +where there is an A. D. T. branch. I wa'n't lookin' for anyone I knew, +seein' it's been so long since I wore the cap; but who should I pipe +off, sittin' on the call bench, but Hunch Leary! And, say, between the +time I'd give him the nod to come out, and his askin' how it was I'd +shook the red stripe, I'd framed up the whole scheme. First I goes over +to the girl under the blue bell and rings up Mr. Robert. + +"Hello," says I, "this is Torchy." + +"Good!" says he. "Have you got it?" + +"Got nothin'!" says I. "You must think I'm a writ of habeas corpus. I +want to know who was the gent that most likely tipped off your warden +friend." + +When I'd got that I asks the time of the next uptown boat, and makes a +deal with one of them ferry hawks to back his chariot up near the +express office door and be ready to make a swift move for the gangplank. + +Then me and Hunchy fakes up this little billy ducks to Mr. Hinkey +Tolliver, tellin' him to chase to the nearest 'phone and call up the +gent that Mr. Robert had put me wise to. + +It was worse'n playin' a three-ball combination for the side pocket, and +I holds my breath while Hunch pokes his book at him and waits to see if +there's any answer. Tolliver, he reads it over two or three times, first +with one eye and then the other. One minute I thought he was goin', and +the next he settles back like he'd made up his mind to balk. He squints +at the burlap package, and then at the message, and all of a sudden he +makes a break for the 'phone. + +He hadn't begun movin' before I was up to the window with my receipt, +callin' for 'em to get a hustle on, as Mr. Doe had run out of veal and +had to have it in a hurry. Ever try to poke up one of them box +jugglers? They took their time about it--and me lookin' for trouble +every tick of the clock! But I got an O. K. on it after awhile, and for +a quarter I hired a wagon helper to drag the bundle out and chuck it +into the hansom. Then I climbs in and we made the boat just as the bell +rang. She was pullin' out of the slip when Tolliver rushes out about as +calm as a bulldog chasin' a tramp. + +"Say," says the driver, climbin' down to take a look at the baggage, +"who you got sewed in the sack!" + +"Get on your perch!" says I. "Ain't you makin' extra money on this? And +when you fetch up at the club, do it like you was used to stoppin' at +such places." + +It was a great ride that me and the deer meat had across town and up +Fifth-ave. I'd stopped once to put Mr. Robert next; so he was waitin' +for me out in front of the club, wearin' a grin that was better'n a +breakfast food ad. + +But that wa'n't anything to the look on Piddie when Mr. Robert shows up +next mornin' and pats me on the back like I was one of his old Hasty +Puddin' chums. + +"Piddie," says I, "look what it is to be born handsome and lucky, all in +one throw!" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +MEETING UP WITH THE GREAT SKID + + +Next time you nabs me writin' a form sheet on any unknown, you can hang +out the waste paper sign and send me to the scows. Look at the mess I +makes of this here Mallory business! Why, first off I has him billed for +a Percy boy that had strayed into the general office from the drygoods +district. He had a filin' job in the bond room, and when he drew his +envelope on Saturdays it must have set the Corrugated Trust back for as +much as twelve D. + +Course, I didn't pay no attention to him, until one noon I finds him in +the next chair at the dairy lunch. He's got his mug of half white and +half black, and his two corned beef splits, with plenty of mustard, and +he's just squarin' off for a foodfest, when I squats down with two hunks +of pie and all the cheese I could get at one grab. + +"Hello, Algy!" says I. "Where's the charlotte russe and the cup of tea?" + +"Beg pardon," says he; "were you speaking to me?" + +"Sure," says I. "You didn't think I was makin' that crack at the +armchair, did you? Maybe we ain't been introduced; but we're on the same +payroll." + +"Oh, yes," says he, "I remember now. You're the--the----" + +"Go on, say it," says I. "I don't mind if it is red, and I lets anybody +call me Torchy that wants to, even Willies." + +"Well, now, that's nice of you," says he, sidetrackin' a bite to look me +over. Then he grins. + +Say, it was that open face movement that made me suspicious maybe he +wa'n't one of the Algernon kind, after all. But he had most of the +points, from the puff tie to the way he spoke. It wa'n't the hot potato +dialect Piddie uses; but it leaned that way. If he'd been a real Willie +boy, though, he'd gone up in the air, and maybe I'd got slapped on the +wrist. His springin' that grin was a hunch for me to hold the decision. + +"How long you been keepin' Corrugated stocks from goin' below par?" says +I. + +That stuns him for a minute, and then a light breaks. He throws another +grin. "Oh, about a year," he says. + +"Chee!" says I. "And they ain't put you on the board of directors yet?" + +"I've managed to keep off so far," says he. + +"Get a lift every quarter, though, I suppose?" says I. + +"I'm getting the same salary I began with, if that's what you mean," +says he, tacklin' another sandwich that had got past the meat +inspectors. + +"Yours must be fatter'n most of the Saturday prize packages they hand +out in the general office, or you wouldn't have kept satisfied so long," +says I. + +He thinks that over for awhile, like it was a new proposition, and then +he says, quiet and easy, "I'm not at all sure, you see, that I am +satisfied." + +"Why not chuck it then and make another grab?" says I. "It's good luck +sometimes to shake the bag." + +He swings his shoulders up at that,--and say, he's got a good pair, all +right!--but he don't say a word. + +"Ain't married the job, have you?" says I. "Or have you lost your +nerve?" + +"Perhaps it's a lack of nerve, as you suggest," says he, more as if he +was talkin' to himself than anything else. + +"Don't think you could connect with another, eh?" says I. + +He shakes his head. "I'm not exactly proud of the fact," says he; "but I +don't mind telling you in confidence that it required the combined +efforts of my entire family and all my friends to get me into this job." + +"Honest?" says I. "Chee! They picked a pippin for you, didn't they?" + +"It's a star," says he. + +"So's a swift kick from the bottom of a well," says I. + +With that I shakes off the pie crumbs and takes a chase up around the +Flatiron, to watch the kids collectin' cigar coupons and take a look at +the folks from the goshfry-mighty belt shiverin' in the rubberneck +buggies. Say, I never feel quite so much to home in this burg as when I +watch them jays from the one-night stands payin' their coin to see +things that I shut my eyes on every day. + +When I gets back on the gate I tries to figure out this Mallory gent; +but I can't place him. He's no Willie, and he's no dope, I can see that. +With his age and general get-up, though, he ought to be pullin' out +fifty or so a week. What's he been at all this time? + +I was just curious enough to stroll over and take a look at him. He has +his coat off, pluggin' away on the job and doin' the kind of work that I +could learn to play with any time I had a day off. Not that I'm lookin' +for it. Bein' head office boy suits me down to the ground. That's bein' +somethin', even if they do pay you off with a five and a one. But if +you're a live one you'll get tipped as much more. And you don't have +cold chills up the spine every time the boss lugs down an after +breakfast grouch. + +Course, a duck like Mallory can't get in any such game; so he's got to +dig away at the filin' case and wear his last summer's suit until +Christmas. Diggin' and keepin' quiet seemed to be his only play. Just as +though he'd ever win any medals by the way he stacked papers away in +little pasteboard boxes! + +He wins somethin' else, though. One day the general manager rushes into +Mallory's corner after somethin' he wanted in a hurry, and by the time +he'd found it he'd pied things from one end of the coop to the other. +Mallory was just tryin' to straighten out the mess, when along comes +Piddie, with that pointed nose of his in front. Piddie don't ask any +questions; he throws a fit. Why, he had Mallory on the carpet for forty +minutes by the clock, givin' him the grand roast, and the only time +Mallory opens up to tell him how it was he shuts him off with a, "That +is sufficient, Mr. Mallory! I am here to get results, not excuses. Is +that quite clear?" + +"Yes, sir," says Mallory. + +Say, but he did it well! He looks that peanut headed snipe straight in +the eye all the time after that and takes what's comin' to him without +turnin' a hair. It was "Yes, Mr. Piddie," and "No, Mr. Piddie"; but +nothin' else. And the cooler and politer he was, the wilder Piddie got. +When I hears him tell Mallory that another such break will cost him his +job, I was achin' to throw the letterpress at him and break him in two. +I couldn't hardly wait for Mallory to shut the door before I let loose. + +"Say, Piddie," says I, "if you don't think you'll sleep easy to-night +unless you give some one the bounce, why not fire me? Go on, now; I'll +make out a case for you. Tell 'em I said you howled around like a pup +with a sore ear." + +Piddie turns white and gives me the glassy eye--that's all. I couldn't +tease a fire out of him with a box of matches. + +But that didn't make up for the way he'd roughed Mallory. I was still +sore over it at closin' time; so I lays for Mallory and asks him why he +didn't risk the job and take a crack at Piddie's jaw. + +He just laughs. "Oh," says he, "I couldn't pay him that compliment." + +Was that a joke, yes? Blamed if I could tell. Anyway, it wa'n't sense. +And there's where I had the front to put it straight up to Mallory about +his bein' stranded in a place where he had to take such pin jabbin' as +that. + +"Say," says I, "is it hard luck, or a late start, or what?" + +"I fancy a late start would cover it," says he. + +"Not college?" says I. + +"That's it," says he. + +"Aw, fudge!" says I. "Honest, I didn't take you for one of them rah-rah +boys. Well, if it's that ails you, you're up against it. I don't wonder +you had to be jammed into a job with a flyin' wedge. Chee!" + +I was sorry for him, though. Maybe it was somethin' he couldn't duck. +Some of 'em I've known of couldn't. Oh, I've seen bunches of 'em, just +turned out. Didn't we have more'n a dozen unloaded on us when me and Mr. +Marshall was gettin' out the Sunday edition? And we didn't do a thing to +'em, either! + +But it's a tough deal, after puttin' in all that time dodgin' the fool +killer at some one else's expense, to be chucked into the grub game with +nothin' but a lot of siss-boom yells for experience. I wouldn't have +believed Mallory was that sort. Nice young feller, too. Never slung any +of his Greek at me, nor flashed his college pins. Seemed to kind of like +chinnin' to me at lunch; so I let him. You know how you'll get to +gassin' and tellin' each other the story of your life. I lets out about +Belmont Pepper and the minin' stocks he gave me, and Mallory drops hints +about mother and sister, that was livin' off in Washington or somewhere +with a brother that was in better luck. Mallory, he was doin' the hall +bedroom act, livin' on that twelve per and keepin' out of sight of +everyone he'd ever known until he'd made good. Guess he found it kind of +a lonesome deal. + +Once when I was extra flush I offers to blow him to a fam'ly circle seat +at "The Bandit Queen"; but he says he thinks he'd better not go. + +"Plannin' to have a spin in your new car?" says I. + +"Hardly," says he. + +"Well, how do you put in your off time, anyway?" says I. + +And say, whatcher think? His programme is to light up the gas stove +reg'lar after dinner and fill his head full of truck out of the trade +monthlies and Wall Street columns, postin' himself on Corrugated +business. + +"Gettin' ready to give the old man a few private tips?" says I. + +"Not until he asks for them," says he. + +"Then you've got lots of time," says I. "But it's a punk way of enjoyin' +yourself." + +Maybe it was thinkin' about what a dead slow time he was havin' that +gives me the cue to stir up that lovely mess, or perhaps it was because +the thing was sprung on me so unexpected. It come one day when I was +busy drawin' pictures of Piddie on the blotter. I hears a giggle, and +squints up to see a pair that looked as if they'd just broke away from +an afternoon tea. He was a husky youth in a frock coat, with a face like +a full moon and a voice that didn't call for any megaphone. The other +was a her, and she was a bundle of tuttifrutti, the kind you see +floatin' by in sixty horsepowers, all veils and furs and eyes. + +"Hello, sonny," says he, swingin' up to the brass gate, wearin' a +four-inch grin. "Where's the Great Skid?" + +"Give it up," says I. "Have you tried the Zoo?" + +"He-haw!" says he, with the stops all out and a forced draft on. "That's +a good one, that is! But we haven't much time and we're looking for +Skid. Where do you keep him?" + +"Say," says I, "we've got a lot of freaks on tap; but we're just out of +Skids. Anything else do?" + +Then she comes to the front. "Don't be such a silly, Dicky!" says she. +"It isn't likely they call him that here. Tell the young man it's Bert +Mallory we wish to see." + +"You're right, Sis, right as usual," says Dick. "It's Mallory we're +looking for." + +"Oh!" says I. "Mister Mallory?" + +"There now, Dicky!" says she, pokin' him with her elbow and touchin' off +another giggle. "Didn't I tell you?" + +"He-haw!" says Dicky. "Mister Mallory, of course." + +But I didn't feel he-hawy a bit; for it was up to me to tow Mallory's +swell college chum and his sister in where the boy was jugglin' the file +cases. And them lookin' for him to be sittin' in a swing chair with his +name painted big on the door! That was when I dug up my fool thought. + +"Cards!" says I. "I'll see if Mr. Mallory's got through consultin' with +the general manager." + +"Oh!" gurgles Sis. "Doesn't that sound business like, though? I suppose +Skid--er--Mr. Mallory is quite a busy man, isn't he?" + +"Busy," says I. "Say, you don't think he has all of us around here to +play marbles, do you, miss?" + +Sis, she gets mighty int'rested at that. "He's a very important man now, +isn't he?" says she. + +"Chee, yes!" says I. "He's I-double-it around here." + +"Isn't that fine?" says Sis. "But I hope he can see us." + +"Oh, I'll fix that all right," says I. + +With that I slides through two doors and into Mr. Robert's room. He's +still out to lunch, of course, it bein' only about two o'clock; so I +unlocks the corridor door that he don't use and skips across into the +general offices. + +"Say," says I to Mallory, "you're wanted in the boss's office. No, not +the old man's; Mr. Robert's. Skin into your coat and come along." + +Never fazes him a bit. He just hunches his shoulders, knocks the dust +off his hands, and trots after. When I gets him in there I tells him to +wait a minute, and then I goes out through the right way and lugs in +Dicky and sister. + +Was it a surprise party? Well, say! Dicky lets out a roar, makes a +plunge for him, hammers him on the back, works the pump handle, and +talks a blue streak. + +"Well, Skiddy, old man, here we are!" says he. "Thought you'd given us +the shake for good, eh? But we heard you'd gone in with the +Corrugated,--saw Blicky in Venice and he told us,--so when we came +ashore we wired father to hold the car over one train for us while we +hunted you up. Sis wouldn't let me come unless she could too. Here, Sis, +it's your turn. Blaze ahead now and give the boy what you said you +would. I'll turn my back." + +I didn't, though. Was there any hangin' off about Sis? Not so you'd +notice it. She just steps up and makes a grab for Mallory and----Aw, +say! One like that must be good for chapped lips. If I'm ever handed one +of them kind I won't wash it off for a month. It tickles Dicky most to +death. + +"He-haw!" says he, so's the window panes rattle. "She said she'd do it. +And she did, didn't she, eh, Skid?" + +Mallory couldn't prove an alibi. He was the worst rattled man I ever +see, and as for blushin'--he got up a color like the lady heroine in a +biff-bang drama. He acted as though he didn't know whether he was +loopin' the loops or having a dream that was too good to be true. Once +or twice he tried to unloosen some remarks; but Sis and Dicky was both +talkin' to once and he never got a show. They was tellin' him how glad +they was to see him again, and what a great man he was, and how Sis was +comin' back to town next month for the rest of the season, and all +that--when right in the middle of it the door opens and in comes Mr. +Robert. + +Say, I felt like a noon extra in a bunch of six o'clock editions. I'd +balled things up lovely, I had! Why, the only times a general office +hand ever gets a chance to stand on the Persian rug in the boss's office +is just before he gets the run or is boosted into a five-figure salary. +And here I has a twelve-dollar man usin' it like a public reception +hall! It was what was goin' to happen to Mallory that gave me the +shivers. + +"Torchy," says Mr. Robert, "what's all this?" + +"S-s-sh!" says I. "It's Old Home Day, and the lady is handin' out +choc'late creams. Wait up; maybe it'll be your turn next." + +"But, see here, I don't understand," says he. "Who are these persons, +and why----" + +"Ah, say!" says I. "Ain't you got any sportin' blood? Besides, I don't +know the answer myself." + +I could of kept that up just about one more round before I'd fell +through a crack; but just as Mr. Robert was framin' up another conundrum +Dicky turns around and spots him. + +"Why, hello, Bob!" yells Dicky, as gentle as if he was hailin' someone +across Broadway. "By Jove, though, I forgot all about you being in the +Corrugated too! But of course you are. Sis and I just ran in a minute to +look up Skid. Good old Skid! Great boy, eh, Bob?" + +Mr. Robert takes a look over by the window at Mallory, who wasn't seein' +a thing but Sis and wasn't hearin' anything but what she was sayin'--and +she was sayin' a lot. + +"Is--is that Skid?" says Mr. Robert. + +"Oh, come along now, Bob," says Dicky, pokin' him in the vest playful. +"You don't mean to say you don't know Skid Mallory, the Great Skid, best +quarterback we ever turned out, the one that went through Harvard for +forty-five yards, and that with a broken ankle? Don't know Skid? Why, +say!" + +"I take it all back," says Mr. Robert. "Of course I know him; but not so +well as you do, Dicky. I wasn't one of the coaches, you know, and I +haven't kept the run of the team for the last year or two. But I'm glad +to see the Great Skid. How the deuce does he happen to be up here, +though?" + +"He-haw!" says Dicky. "That's rich, that is? Shows how much you know of +Corrugated affairs, Bob. Why, man alive, Skid's one of the chaps that's +runnin' your old gent's trust. This is his office you're in now." + +"Really!" says Mr. Robert. He takes another look at Mallory, who's deaf +and dumb and blind to everything but Sis, and then he turns for a good +hard look at me. + +I grins kind of foolish and nods. Then I jumps behind Dicky and begins +to wigwag over his shoulder for Mr. Robert to keep it up. I didn't know +whether he would or not. I wa'n't sure but what he'd think I'd turned +batty, by the motions I was goin' through; but he's a sport, Mr. Robert +is. He didn't know what was on the card; but he takes a chance. + +So Dicky waltzes him over to the pair by the window, and makes Mr. +Robert and Mallory acquainted, and jollies 'em both, and all three of +'em talk football to Mallory, who blushes worse than ever and don't +know which way to turn. They keep that up until Dicky pulls out his +watch, grabs Sis by the arm, and hollers that they've got to make a +break for the Washington Limited. Sis is shakin' good-by with both of +'em at once, when she thinks of somethin' funny. + +"Oh, Mr. Robert!" says she. "I want to know which of you is who here, +don't you know. Is it you that works for Skid, or Skid that works for +you?" + +"Chee!" thinks I. "That upsets the soup kettle." + +Mr. Robert looks at Mallory, and Mallory looks at him. There was no +breakin' away; for she has hold of a hand apiece. Both of 'em makes a +start; but Mr. Robert gets the floor. "Why," says he, "I guess we're +both working for the Corrugated, only one of us works a little harder +than the other." + +"Ah!" says Sis, givin' Mallory a smile that was worth payin' money to +see. "I thought so." + +The next minute they makes a dash for an elevator goin' down, and that +part of it was over. We'd worked the bluff all the way through, and Sis +has lugged off the idea that Mallory was at the top of the bunch. + +But there was Mr. Robert, waitin' to talk Dutch to us. + +Mallory he starts in to say that he's sorry for seemin' so cheeky; but +that's about all he can say. + +"Ah, cheese it!" says I, buttin' in. "What do you know about it? It was +me put up the game, and if Mr. Robert had loafed another half an hour at +the club like he usually does, there wouldn't have been any mix up. Say, +you leave this to me." + +Mallory didn't want to leave it like that; but Mr. Robert was holdin' +the door open for him, so he couldn't do anything else. When we had it +all to ourselves, the boss ranges me up in front of him for the court of +inquiry session. + +"Well?" says he, real solemn. + +I takes all that in and gives him the wink. "Say," says I, "didn't I +have my nerve with me, though?" + +He kind of blinks at that; but it don't fetch him. + +"Who's Dicky, your whisperin' friend?" says I. + +"Nobody much," says he. "His father's a Senator." + +"Well, say, now," says I, "you didn't want me to chase a Senator's son +and a real swell girl like Sis off into a place like the general office +reception room, did you! And wouldn't it have been a nice break if I'd +let out that we was smotherin' the Great Skid under a twelve-dollar +job?" + +"Was that why you had the impudence to appropriate my office?" says he. + +"That was part of it," says I. + +And that gives me an openin' to tell him the whole tale about Mallory, +from the hall bedroom act to the way he'd been postin' himself. + +"You think he's a valuable man, do you?" says Mr. Robert. + +"Valuable!" says I. "Why, he's all the goods. What if he did learn to +talk Greek once? He's forgettin' it, ain't he? And look at the way he +stands up to trouble! Don't that show there's good stuff in him?" + +"Well," says he, "what would you suggest?" + +"Ah, say!" says I. "Couldn't you give a guess? Why, if I was you I'd fix +it so that when Sis comes back to town she wouldn't find him on no kid's +job. I'd give him a show to get his name painted on a door somewhere." + +"Torchy," says he, punchin' the button for his secretary, "I shouldn't +wonder if we did." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +FROSTING THE PROFESS + + +Chee! but I'm gettin' to be useful! Course, I don't figure out no awful +slump in Corrugated stocks if I should get pettish some day and tell 'em +they'd got to find a new office boy. That ain't the kind of shredded +thought I'm feedin' on. I fit into a lot of places besides the chair +behind the brass gate. Why, I have to put on a sub. three or four times +a week, while I'm spreadin' myself out all over the lot. + +It all come of their makin' me special messenger to the boss; for since +old Mr. Ellins has been laid up with toothache in his knee joints +they've been chasin' me up to the Fift'-ave. ranch, with mail, and blank +bonds to be signed, and such truck. And that's how I came to get so +thick with Marjorie. + +I was waitin' in the front hall, pipin' off the gorgerifousness, when +some one pushes in through the draperies L. U. E. and I'm discovered. +And, say, she was a magnum, all right! You know the sort of pippins they +pick out to hang up by a string in the fruit store window? Well, that +was her style. Big? She'd fit close in a Morris chair! And she didn't +look more'n eighteen or nineteen, either. For all her width, she was +built on good lines, and if she'd been divided up right there'd been +enough for a pair of as good lookers as you'd want to see. + +"O-o-o-o!" says she as she comes in. "See who's here!" + +I never says a word, but just twists my toes around the chair legs and +looks into my hat. Not that I'm any afraid of girls; but I wa'n't +feelin' so much to home there as I do in some places, and I didn't want +to make any break. But she wouldn't let it go at that. + +"O-o-o-o!" says she again, and as I squints up at her I sees the reg-lar +cut-up looks just bubblin' out. + +"G'wan!" says I. "I ain't no curiosity." + +"Oh, it is Torchy then, isn't it?" says she. + +"You don't think this is a wig I'm wearin', do you?" says I. That's what +I got to expect with hair like mine. The minute my description's given +out everybody's on. + +She giggles and says that Brother Robert's been telling her about me. +"I'm Marjorie, you know," says she. + +"Well," says I, lookin' her over careful, "you'll do." + +I meant it. Mr. Robert's only fair sized; but old man Ellins is a whale, +and I was thinkin' of him when I said that Marjorie was up to +specifications. She seems to think I've handed out a lump of +butterscotch, though, and we gets real chatty. + +I don't know what kind of fairy yarns Mr. Robert's been tearin' off at +home about me; but from the start she treats me like I was one of the +fam'ly. And Marjorie was just as nice as she was heavy. She didn't try +to carry any dog; but just blazes ahead and spiels out the talk. I get +next to the fact that she's just home from one of them swell boardin' +schools, where they pump French and music into young lady plutesses at a +dollar a minute, and throw in lessons on how to say "Home, Francois!" to +the chaffeur. This was some kind of a vacation Marjorie was havin', and +she was doin' her best to make every hour count. + +Knowin' all that helped me to keep from bein' so much jarred by her next +move. It was a couple of days after, on a Wednesday, and we'd got real +well acquainted, when Marjorie spots me as I was headin' back for the +office after leavin' some things for the boss. + +"Torchy," says she, "where's Robert? What was he doing when you left?" + +"Give it up," says I. "And, anyway, I ain't supposed to know." + +"I'll bet you do, though," says she. "Couldn't you guess?" + +"If I did," says I, "I'd guess that he'd just made a run of ten or +twelve and was pushin' up the buttons on the string." + +"I don't know what that means," says she. + +"Well," says I, "it means that maybe he's playin' billiards at the +club." + +"Oh, darn!" says she, real wicked. + +It turns out that Brother Robert has said he'd take sister to the +matinee that afternoon, and the date has got clean by him. She wants to +go the worst way, too. Mother wasn't handy, Aunty May had the icebag on +her head, and there wasn't anyone else within reach. Accordin' to the +rules, there'd got to be some one. + +"Torchy," says she, "I don't see why you couldn't take me, as well as +anyone else." + +"Thanks," says I, "but I don't want to earn my release that way. I've +got 'em trained down to the office so they'll stand for a lot; but me +ringin' in a matinee durin' business hours would sure break the spell." + +"Oh, pshaw!" says she. "I can fix that part of it," and off she goes, up +to see puppah. + +If she'd come back and said the old man was havin' a fit on the floor, I +wouldn't have been any surprised. But, say, Marjorie must have a pull +accordin' to her weight; for inside of four minutes she comes skippin' +down the front stairs, makin' the gas globes rattle and jigglin' the +pictures on the wall. + +"It's all right," says she. "Father says you're to telephone Mr. Piddie +that you won't be back, and then you're to see that I get to the theater +and home again without being kidnapped. I'll be ready in ten minutes." + +It was a shame, though, that I missed seein' Piddie when he got the +word. All I could hear was a gasp, like he'd been butted just above the +belt, and then he hung up the receiver. I expect I'll send him to the +nerve repair shop some day. + +But you should have seen me and Marjorie sittin' on the broadcloth +cushions and bein' carted down to the theater. I swelled up all I could; +but at that I wa'n't much more'n a dot on the landscape. There's times +when I feel real chesty and can hear my feet make a noise when I walk; +but this wa'n't one of 'em. And when it came to paradin' down the middle +row after the usher, with Marjorie puffin' behind, I felt like one of +them dinky little river tugs towin' a floatin' grain elevator. I was +lookin' for the house to let loose a "Ha-ha!" It didn't, though. They +expect most anything to drift into them afternoon shows. + +"Say, Miss Ellins," says I, after she'd squeezed herself into her place, +pinned her feather lid up in front of her, and opened the choc'late +creams, "I've been in such a dream I didn't look at the outside boards +or get a programme. What's doin'--variety or a tumpy-tump show?" + +"Why," says she, "this is Shakespeare's 'Romeo and Juliet.'" + +"Z-z-z-zing!" says I. "Stung again! Who unloaded the tickets on you?" + +What d'ye think, though? She'd picked this show out all by herself, put +up real money for it--and that with two Injun drammers runnin' right on +Broadway! Said she'd seen the same thing half a dozen times before, too. +Aw, say! I couldn't get next to any such batty move as that. And when I +thought how this was my first plunge into a two-dollar chair, it made me +sore. + +"Wake me up when it's all over," says I, and settles back for a real +rest. + +There's where I hung out the wrong number. That wa'n't any dope drammer +at all. Course, Shakespeare don't know how to ring in burnin' flat +houses, or mill explosions, or any real thrillers like that; but there's +somethin' doin' in his pieces. There was in this one, anyway. It was +quite some time before I got any glimmer of what it was all about; but +before the first act was over I was sittin' up, all right. + +"What do you think of her?" says Marjorie. + +"The one with the Maxine Elliott eyes and the gushy voice?" says I. "Oh, +I don't call her such a much; but if Romeo wants her as bad as he says +he does, I hope it won't be a case of 'My pa won't let me.' But, say, +what for did they kill off the only real live one they had, that Mr. +Cuteo? Say, he was all to the good, and it was a shame to have him +punctured so quick!" + +The parts I liked, though, wa'n't the ones that Marjorie got herself +worked up over. It was the balcony scene she'd come for. When they got +to that she grips the seat in front and glues her eyes on them two that +was swappin' the long, lingerin' breakaway tackles, and every once in +awhile she heaves up a sigh like cuttin' out an airbrake. + +After it was all over, and most everybody that counted had swallowed +knockout drops, Marjorie gives me a sidelight on what's been runnin' +through her head. + +"I could do that," says she. "I just know I could!" + +"Do what?" says I. + +"Why, Juliet's part. I've been studying it for months, ever since our +class gave it at school. They wouldn't give me a part then; but just you +wait! I'll show them!" + +"You're joshin'," says I. + +Honest, I didn't think she meant it. She didn't say any more about it, +and all the way home she was as quiet as a bale of hay. + +That was the last I see of Marjorie for near a week. Then, one afternoon +as I was goin' through Tinpan Alley on an errand, I sees the Ellins +carriage pull up, and out she comes. + +Now, say, I knew in a minute that wa'n't any place for Marjorie. The +buildin' she goes into is one of them old five-story brownstones, where +they sell wigs in the basement, costumes on the first floor, have a +theatrical agency on the second, and give voice culture and such stuff +above. Among the other signs was one that read, "School of Dramatic Art, +Room 9, Fifth Floor." + +"Chee!" says I. "You don't suppose Marjorie's got it that bad, do you?" + +First off I thinks I'll chase along and forget I'd seen anything at all. +Then I thinks of what Mr. Robert would say if he knew, and I stops. +Sure, I hadn't been called to play any Buttinsky part; but somehow I +didn't feel right about stayin' out, so the first thing I knows I'm +trailin' up the stairs. There wa'n't any need to do the sleuth act after +Marjorie got started. Anyone on the floor could have heard it; for she +was spoutin' the Juliet lines like a carriage caller, and whenever she +made a rush to the footlights the floor beams creaked. It was enough to +drag a laugh out of a hearse driver. And guess what the guy was tellin' +her! + +"Great!" says he. "You're almost as good as Mary Anderson was at her +best, and as for Marlowe, she can't touch you. Excellent, that last +speech! What fire, what expression, what talent! Why, young woman, all +you need is a Broadway production to sweep 'em off their feet! I'll +arrange it for you. It means money, of course; but after the first +cost--fame, nothing but fame!" + +Now, how was that for a hot-air blast? Wouldn't that make a short ice +crop if you let it loose up the Hudson? + +But it wa'n't what he said, so much as how he was sayin' it, that got me +int'rested. There's some voices you don't have to hear but once to +remember a lifetime, an this was one of that kind. It was one of these +husky baritones, like what does the coonsongs for the punky records they +put into the music boxes at the penny arcades. That was as near as I +could map it for a minute or so while I was tryin' to throw up the +picture of the man behind the voice. And, then it hits me--Professor +Booth McCallum! + +Oh, skincho, what a front! Why, when I was on the Sunday editor's door +the professor used to show up reg'lar with some new scheme for winnin' +space. Talk about your self-acting press agents! He had the bunch shoved +to the curb. All he had to bank on was a ten-minute turn at a 14th-st. +continuous house, fillin' in between the trained pig and the strong +lady; but he wanted as much type set about himself as if he'd been Dave +Warfield. + +When he couldn't get next to anybody else, he used to give me the +earache tellin' of the times when he played stock in one of Daly's road +comp'nies, and how he had to quit because John Drew was jealous of him. +Then he'd leave his stuff with me and I'd promise to sneak it into the +dramatic notes the first time I found the forms unlocked. + +And to think of a hamfatter like McCallum, who's come back from Buffalo +on a brake beam so often that he always sleeps with one arm crooked +around the bedpost, havin' the nerve to call himself a school of +dramatic art! Course, I didn't think Marjorie was so easy as to fall for +a fake like that. She must be stringin' him. + +But the minute I see her come out I knew she'd swallowed the hook. I'd +dropped back into the far end of the hall, where it was dark; but as she +walks under the skylight I sees the pleased look on her face, like she +was havin' a view of her lithographs on all the gold frames in the +subway. I waits until McCallum shuts himself in to throw bouquets at his +picture in the glass, and then I slips down just in time to catch +Marjorie as she's climbin' into the carriage. + +"Is this the lady that's entered for the heavyweight Juliet +championship?" says I, tryin' to break the news to her gentle. + +It shook her up a good deal, just the same. Her face gets the color of +an auction flag, and she jounces down on the seat in a way that makes +the springs flat out like bed slats. + +"Why, Torchy!" says she. "Where did you come from, and what do you +mean?" + +"Oh, I've taken out a butt-in license," says I. "I'm on, Miss Ellins. I +wa'n't invited to the rehearsal; but I was there." + +"Listening outside?" says she. + +"Uh-huh," says I. + +"Oh, Torchy!" says she. "Did you hear how lovely the professor talked of +the way I did it?" + +"About your havin' Julia Marlowe sewed in a sack? Sure thing," says I. + +"But you mustn't tell anyone," says she. + +"I wouldn't want the job," says I. "I can draw a diagram of the riot +there'll be when mommer and popper get the bulletin." + +"I don't care," says Marjorie. "They never want me to do anything. It's +always, 'Oh, Marjorie, you're too big.' In summer I can't go bathing +because they say I'm a sight in a bathing suit, and in winter they won't +let me skate because they're afraid I'll break through. The boys won't +dance with me, and the girls shut me out of basketball. But Professor +McCallum has been perfectly dear. He said right away that I wasn't a bit +too stout to be an actress. I'm not, either! Why, I weigh less than two +hundred, with my jacket off; honest, I do! He liked my voice, too. And +this was only my third lesson. Anyway, I'd just love to play Juliet, and +I mean to do it!" + +Well, say, that was a proposition to give you a headache. I couldn't go +runnin' to Mr. Robert or the boss with any tales about Miss Marjorie. +That ain't what I'm on the payroll for. But I couldn't let McCallum play +a friend of mine for a good thing; so I just opens up on him. + +"Why," says I, "he's a never was. Maybe he used to carry a spear, or +play double-up parts on the haymow circuit; but that's about all. He's a +common, everyday, free lunch frisker, Mac is. I used to know all about +him when I was in the newspaper business; so this is a straight steer. +He's just tollin' you along because he's had a dream that if he gets you +real stuck on yourself you'll come across with two or three thousand for +expenses and will be too tender-hearted to squeal afterwards. That's his +game, and all you've got to do to queer it is to send him ten and say +the folks object." + +That's about the way I put it, drawin' it as strong as I knew how. Does +Marjorie see the point and heave up any thanks about my bein' her true +friend? Not her! She calls me impid'nt and says she's got a good mind to +box my ears right there. So it was up to me to calm her down. + +"All right, Miss Marjorie," says I. "If I've said anything I can't +prove, I'll take it back; but if you'll follow me upstairs again for a +minute, and wait outside in the hall, I'll have a little talk with the +professor that'll settle it one way or the other." + +No, she wouldn't do it, and she didn't want me ever to speak to her +again. I was too fresh, I was! + +"Then I guess I'll have to send Mr. Robert up to engage seats for that +Juliet stab of yours," says I, makin' a play to move off. + +It was a bluff; but it fetched her. She was willin' to do 'most anything +if I wouldn't tell Brother Robert; so back we goes up to the acting +school on the top floor. I left her leanin' up against the wall, right +near the open transom, and makes a break for McCallum. + +He was right there, too. He's one of these short-legged, ham-faced gents +that's almost as tall when he's sittin' down as when he's standin' up. A +neck that takes a No. 18 turn-down collar goes with that. He has his +hands in his pockets, an Egyptian joss-stick in his mouth, and he's +straddlin' up and down, as satisfied with himself as if he'd just cashed +a ticket on the right horse. + +"Hello, profess!" says I. "I spots your name on the sign; so I takes the +foot elevator up to see how you're comin' on." + +"Quite right, son," says he, "quite right." + +He didn't need any whizz plane then to beat the Curtiss record. He was +soarin', soarin,' and too busy with it to take much notice of me. + +"You ain't been round to the office lately," says I, lettin' on I was +still with the paper. + +"No, son," says he; "but you can inform your dramatic man down there +that if he wants an important piece of news he'd better come and see +me," and with that he taps his chest like he was stunnin' the gallery. + +"Thought you looked like happy days, professor," says I. "What's it +like? You ain't been takin' on any swell pupils, have you?" + +"Haven't I, though?" says he, stickin' his thumbs in his vest pockets +and comin' up on his toes as if he was goin' to crow. "Haven't I?" + +"Say, Mac," says I confidential, "that wasn't her I saw drivin' off in +the private buggy as I come in, was it--the wide one?" + +"That was her," says he, "the new Juliet." + +"Juliet!" says I. "Aw, you're kiddin'! Honest, professor, do Juliets +come as heavy as that?" + +Then he winks. I could see he was just bustin' to let it out to some +one, and here was his chance. "Son," says he, "when young ladies have +the price to pay for such luxuries as the cultivation of a dramatic +talent that doesn't exist, size doesn't count. I've coached a Hamlet +with lop ears and a pug nose, a Lady of Lyons that had a face you could +chop wood with, and I guess I'm not going to draw the line at a Juliet +whose father is president of a trust, even if she is something of a baby +elephant!" + +I heard the wall crack at that, and I suspected Marjorie'd got a shock. + +"Can she act any?" says I. + +"Act!" says he. "It's enough to make the angels weep to see her try. +Imagine, my boy, a one hundred and thirty-pound Romeo trying to hug his +way around a two hundred and fifty-pound Juliet! Why, we'd have to prop +up the balcony with a structural iron pillar and----" + +It was too bad to have the flow stopped, for he was enjoyin' himself; +but just then the door was jerked open and in rushes Marjorie, her eyes +blazin', her face white, and so mad she couldn't speak. As she looms up +in the door, lookin' bigger'n ever, she was diggin' somethin' out of her +handbag, somethin' shiny. It wa'n't anything but a silver purse; but +the professor must have thought it was somethin' else, for he gives only +one look. Then he throws up both hands, hollers "Don't shoot, don't +shoot!" and makes a dive under a desk in the corner. The hole under that +desk wa'n't built for divin' through; so McCallum wedges himself in +there like a cork in a bottle, wavin' his legs in the air, and callin' +for help. + +"There!" says Marjorie, throwin' some bills on the floor. "That's for +what I owe you, you horrid old fraud! Baby elephant, am I? Oh, you +wretch!" With that she goes out and bangs the door behind her. + +It was all me and the cornet artist next door could do to separate +McCallum from the desk, and even when we worked him loose he didn't want +to come out. When we'd got him into a chair, and he'd felt himself all +over careful, he says to me: + +"Torchy, how--how many times did she shoot?" + +And when I gets back to the office Mr. Robert wants to know why I didn't +let 'em know I was goin' all the way to Washington after them stamps. + +"Chee!" says I, "but you're gettin' restless! Maybe you think I oughter +travel by pneumatic tube? Huh!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +WHERE MILDRED GOT NEXT + + +There's nothin' wins out surer in this town of New York than puttin' up +a good front. If you've got the fur coat and the goggles on your cap, +you can walk or ride on a transfer, and folks'll take it as a cinch that +your bubble's back in the garage bein' fitted with a new set of +hundred-dollar tires. Why, just the smell of benzine on a suit you've had +out to the cleaners will give 'em the dream, if you throw your chest out +right. + +Look at the way Mildred has us goin'. Maybe you don't know about +Mildred. Say, I'll bet if you met up with her on Fift'-ave. you'd hold +your breath till she got by and wonder whether she was a Vanderbilt or +one of the Goulds! But she floats into the Corrugated Trust offices more +or less reg'lar every day, just the same, and does her little stunt on +the typewriter at so much per. Honest, when I sees her sailin' in +mornin's, with all her swell drygoods on, I'm just as liable as not to +half break my neck openin' the door for her. That's what I did the +first time I saw her, when I was new on the gate. + +"This way, lady," says I, and when she pikes right by and heads for the +cloakroom I almost has a fit. + +Maybe there's some hot ones down around Broad-st. that drives to +business in cabs and pounds the keys durin' office hours; but for a +genuine, mercerized near silk we stand ready to back Mildred against the +field. She'd have an expert guessin', Mildred would. "Miss Morgan" is +the way she figures on the payroll; but that never sounded rich enough +for me. + +It was the first week I was there that I begun to get a line on Mildred. +One day the old man calls me in and hands me a letter that's been put on +his desk for him to sign. He was plum color, Old Hickory was, so mad he +could have chewed a file. + +"Boy," says he, "take this into the main office, find out who M. M. is, +and bring her in here. Anybody that can spell in that fashion I want to +take a good look at." + +Think of the shock I gets when Piddie tells me them letters stand for +Mildred Morgan. + +"Lady," says I, "I hates to say it, but the boss is waitin' to hand out +a call-down to you. Don't you go to gettin' scared stiff, though; for the +first cussword he lets go of I'll chuck a chair at him." + +The smile I gets for that would have been worth half a dozen jobs. I was +lookin' for her to go white and begin bitin' her upper lip, like they +usually does; but she ain't that kind--not on your nameplate! She just +peels off the sleeve protectors, sets her side combs in firm, gives her +face a dab or so with the rabbit's foot, and starts along after me, with +that new antelope walk of hers, as easy and pleased as if she'd been +asked to come to the front and pour tea. + +And she's got the costume the part calls for, mind you! They're the only +clothes of the kind I ever see wore into this buildin'. I couldn't say +what they was made of; but I know they're the button-up-the-back style, +and that they stick to her as if they'd been put on by a paper-hanger. I +guess you'd call Mildred a 1911 model. Anyway, she seems to bulge in the +right places; though how anyone so long-waisted as that can get +themselves into such a rig without callin' for help is somethin' I +passes up. + +Well, I tows her into the boss's office, feelin' as mean as a welsher. +The old man has settled back in his chair, a cigar pointin' out of one +corner of his mouth, and a letter in one fist. While I'm gone he's run +across another, worse than the first, by the marks he's made on it, and +he's got to the point where a thermometer slipped down the back of his +neck would go off like a cap pistol. + +"See here!" says he, growlin' it out grouchy, without lookin' up. "I'd +like to have you run your eye over that, and then tell me where in +thunder you learned to spell such s-u-t-c-h!" + +"Why," says she, "I always spell it that way; don't you?" + +"Don't I!" roars the old man. "Do you take me for a----" + +Then he looks up. Well, say, you talk about your fadin' sunsets! Nothin' +I ever see beat the way the boss lost his crushed raspb'rry face tint +and bleached out salmon pink. "Why--why--er--are you sure this is some +of your work, young woman?" + +"Oh yes, indeed," says she, kind of gurgly and aristocratic and as sweet +as pie, "that's mine. But you've made so many horrid marks on it that I +shall have to do it all over again." + +"Yes," says he, "I'm afraid that's so. But we have a way here, you know, +of spelling explicit with a C instead of an S." + +"Ruhlly?" says she. "How odd!" + +"It's one of our fads, too," goes on the old man, "not to spell +Corrugated g-a-i-t-e-d. We've simplified it by leaving out the I. Of +course, we don't expect you to learn all these things at once; but pick +'em up as fast as you can. That--that's all. Thank you very much, +Miss--er----What's the name?" + +"Morgan," says she, "Mildred Morgan." + +"Ah," says the boss, "very much obliged, Mil--er--Miss Morgan," and +before I could get to the door he has hopped up and opened it for her. + +Then he turns around and sees me standin' there grinnin'. "Torchy," says +he, "are there any more like that around the shop?" + +"None that I ever saw," says I. + +"Thank Heaven!" says he. "Send in one of the other kind." + +"Want a real ripe one?" says I. + +He does. And say, we got plenty of them. I picks out one with washed-out +eyes, front teeth that sticks out, and no shape to speak of. She could +make the typewriter do a double shuffle, though, and there couldn't +anybody around the place sling out words faster'n she could take 'em +down on her pad, or any she couldn't spell right the first crack. The +old man fixes it that she's to go over Mildred's work with an ink eraser +before it comes to him. + +If Mildred knew about it, she never let on. Nothin' much bothered her. +She'd come sailin' in any old time durin' the forenoon, lookin' as +han'some as a florist's window and actin' as if she never heard of such +a thing as a time clock. Piddie tackles her only once. + +"Miss Morgan," says he, "business begins here at nine o'clock promptly." + +"How absurd!" says Mildred, and Piddie don't get over the shock for an +hour. + +About the second week all hands took a vote that Mildred wa'n't much of +a success as a typewriter artist and that she ought to be fired. The old +man put it up to Mr. Robert, and Mr. Robert shoves it back at him. Then +they both loaded it onto Piddie and cleared out. When they come back +they asks him if he's done it. + +"Well," says he, colorin' up, "not exactly." + +Come to make him own up, he'd gone at the job so easy and had been so +polite about it that Miss Morgan has time to head him off with a strike +for more pay, and before he can back out he's promised to see what can +be done. + +"Couldn't you talk to her, Mr. Ellins?" says he. + +"Great Scott, no!" says the boss. "Tell her she's raised, and let it go +at that." + +For awhile, though, Mildred cost the firm a lot more money than her +salary, if you reckon up as worth anything the time a lot of two-by-four +ink-slingers spent makin' goo-goo eyes at her. It was a losin' game all +around. Mildred didn't seem to be pinin' for any such honors, and after +they got well acquainted with the fact that she wouldn't stand for lunch +invites, or bids to the theater, and didn't want to be walked home with +by a perfect gent, they let up on that foolishness. It leaves 'em dizzy, +though. There's pinheads on our gen'ral office staff who believes they +never missed breakin' a heart before, and they can't figure out just +what's the matter with the combination. + +There was others, too, that couldn't place Mildred, until some one hints +that maybe she's a sure enough swell whose folks had gone broke, and +that she's picked out a typewriter job as a sort of trapdoor that would +let her down out of sight and keep the meal ticket renewed. + +After that Mildred is as much of a myst'ry as why folks live in +Brooklyn. We was all wise to the main proposition, though, and it was +funny to hear 'em all sayin' that they'd known it right along. Kind of +set us up some, too, havin' a real ex-ice cutter like her right on the +floor with us. All the other key pounders, that had been givin' her the +stary eye at first, flops around and uses the sugar shaker. There wasn't +anything they wouldn't do for her, and they takes turns holdin' her +jacket, so's to get a peek at the trademark on the inside of the collar. + +But Piddie is the most pleased of any. He thinks he's right to home +among carriage folks, and every time she comes near he bows and scrapes +and begins to shoot off the "Aw, I'm suah's" and the "Don'tcher know's," +until you'd think he was talkin' through a mouthful of hot breakfast +food. + +"Chee!" says I to him. "You act like you thought this was a five o'clock +tea." + +"I trust," says he, "I know a lady when I see one, and that I know how +to treat her too." + +"That's so," says I. "Too bad you wa'n't on the stage, Piddie, in one of +them 'Me lu'd, the carriage waits' parts." + +That gives me a cue, and the next time she sends me for supplies I says +to him, "Mr. Piddie," says I, "the Lady Mildred presents her compliments +and says she wants a new paste brush." + +Gets him wild, that does; so I sticks to it. The others hears it and +picks it up too, and she wa'n't called anything but Lady Mildred from +that on. First thing I knew I'd said it to her face; but she never so +much as looks surprised. You'd thought she'd been called Lady Mildred +all her life. + +"Who knows?" says Piddie. "Perhaps she has." + +Honest, we was makin' up all kinds of pipe dreams about her, and +believin' 'em as we went along. There was no findin' out from her what +was so and what she wa'n't. She never gets real chummy with anyone; but +keeps us jollied along about so much. It was dead easy. All she had to +do was to throw a smile our way, and we was tickled for a week. Wasn't +anyone around the place needed so much waitin' on as her; but no one +ever minds. Gen'rally there was two or three on the jump for her, and +others willin' to be. + +Course, that don't include Mr. Robert. He seems to think Lady Mildred +was some kind of a joke; but, then, I expect he sees so many stunners +like her every night, knockin' around at dinner parties and such, that +he gets tired lookin' at 'em. I'd been carryin' it against him, though, +and maybe that's what put it into my nut to get so gay with Louie. + +Louie's the gent in the leather leggin's and north-pole outfit that +comes around after Mr. Robert every night with the machine. Say, it's a +reg'lar rollin' bay window, that car of Mr. Robert's! I wouldn't mind +havin' one of that kind taggin' around after me. But if I was pickin' a +shover I'd pass Louie by. He wears his nose too high in the air and is +too friendly with himself to suit me. There's a lot of them honk-honk +boys just like him; but he's the only one I ever has a chance to get +real confidential with. It's like this: + +Mr. Robert says to me, "Torchy, if I'm not back by five o'clock, you may +tell Louie when he comes that he needn't wait." + +"Sure thing," says I. + +Then, when Mr. Robert don't show up at closin' time, I chases down to +the curb and sings out, "Hey, Frenchy, you tip huntin' ex-waiter! It's +back to the garage for yours! And say! After you've run your old coal +cart into the shed you can go let yourself out as a sign for a fur +store. Ah, that's right. Nothin' doin' here. Skidoo!" + +Always makes me feel better after I've handed Louie one like that--his +ears turns such a lovely pink, specially when there's a crowd around. +When I has time to chew it over I can think up some beauts. But this +night I was goin' to tell you about I didn't have any warnin' at all. +Mr. Robert was right in the middle of a heart-to-heart talk with a +Pittsburg man, when five o'clock comes and the word is sent up that +Louie has came. + +"Tell him to come back in about half an hour," says Mr. Robert to me. + +"Repeat at five-thirt'," says I, sliding out for the elevator. + +It was an elegant afternoon,--for pneumonia,--slush and rain and ice-box +zephyrs gallopin' up and down the street. Louie didn't look as though he +was enjoyin' it any too much, for all his furs. I was just turnin' up my +collar for a dash across the sidewalk and back, when out comes Lady +Mildred in a raincoat that was a dream and carryin' a silver-handled +umbrella such as you don't find on the bargain counters. And then I +gets my funny thought. + +"Carriage for you, miss," says I, grabbin' the rain tent and hoistin' +it. "Right this way, miss." + +Say, she's a dead game sport, Mildred is. Never stopped to ask any fool +questions; but prances right out to the car, just as though she'd +expected it to be there. + +"Take the lady home, and be back after Mr. Robert in half an hour, +Louie," says I, jerkin' open the door and handin' her in. + +It was about then that I almost had heart failure. Stowed away in the +further corner, as comf'table as if he was at the club, was Benny. I +forget what the rest of his name is; Mr. Robert never calls him anything +but Benny. They're chums from way back,--travel in the same push, live +on the same block, and has the same ideas about killin' time. But that's +as far as the twin description goes. Benny looks and acts about as much +like Mr. Robert as a cream puff looks like a ham sandwich. All Benny +ever does is put on more fat and grow more cushions on the back of his +neck. He's about five foot three, both ways, one of these rolypoly boys, +with dimples all over him, pink and white cheeks, and baby-blue eyes. +Oh, he's cute, Benny is; but the bashfullest forty-four fat that ever +carried a cane, a reg'lar Mr. Shy Ann kind of a duck. He has a lisp +when he talks too, and that makes him seem cuter'n ever. + +About twice a week he drifts up to the brass gate and says to me, "Thay, +thonny, whereth Bob?" Makes my mouth pucker up like I'd been suckin' a +lemon, just to hear him. And if he sees one of the girls lookin' +sideways at him he'll dodge behind a post. + +There he was, though, and there was Mildred pilin' in alongside of him. +She didn't give any sign of backin' out, and it was too late for me to +hedge; so I ups and does the honors. + +"Mr. Benny," says I, "Miss Morgan." + +"Oh, I--I thay," splutters Benny, makin' a move to bolt, "perhapth I'd +better----" + +"Forget it!" says I, slammin' the door. "Ding, ding, Louie! Get a move +on! If you don't fetch back here by five-thirt' you lose your job. See?" + +Frenchy didn't need any urgin', though, and he has the wheels goin' +round in no time at all. I watched the car for a couple of blocks and +didn't see anything of Benny jumpin' out of the window; so I reckons +that he's too scared to make the break. I had a picture of him, +squeezin' himself up against the side of the tonneau, lookin' at his +thumbs, and turnin' all kinds of colors. + +"If it don't give him apoplexy, maybe it'll do him good," thinks I. + +It was funny while it lasted; but when I thinks of what Mr. Robert'll +say when the tale is doped out to him. I has a chill. First off I +thought I'd go up and write out my resignation; but then I remembers how +long it is since I've had the sport of bein' fired, and I makes up my +mind to see the thing through. + +I was lookin' to be called up on the carpet first thing next mornin', +but it don't come. Mr. Robert never says a word all day long, nor the +next, and by that time the thing was gettin' on my nerves. Then Benny +bobs up, as usual. I has my eye peeled from the minute he opens the +door. He don't look warlike or anything; but you never can tell about +these fat men, so when he hits the gate I dodges behind the water +cooler. + +"Wha--w'ath the matter, thonny?" says he. + +"G'wan!" says I. + +"Ithn't Bob in?" says he. + +"Go on in and tell Mr. Robert, if you want to," says I; "but don't look +for any openin' to sit on me. No pancake act for mine!" + +He just grins at that; but goes on into the office without makin' a +single pass at me. Course, I was sure the riot act was due inside of an +hour. But never a word. Nor Mildred don't have anything to say, either. +It was like waitin' for a blast that don't go off. + +Things went on that way for a couple of weeks, and I was forgettin' +about it, when Piddie tells me one mornin' that Mildred's up and quit +and nobody knows why. About an hour after that Mr. Robert sends for me. + +"Torchy," says he, "I'm tracing out a mystery, and as you seem to know +about everything that's going on, I'm going to ask you to help me out." + +"Ah, say," says I, "w'at's the use stringin' out the agony? Benny's +squealed, ain't he?" + +"No," says Mr. Robert. "That's the point. Benny hasn't. All I've been +able to get out of him is that a short time ago he met a very charming +young woman--in my car." + +"That's right," says I. "It was me put her in." + +"Ah!" says Mr. Robert. "Now we're getting somewhere." + +"Oh, you've hit the trail," says I. + +"Well," says he, "who was she?" + +"Why," says I, "the Lady Mildred." + +"Whe-e-e-ew!" says Mr. Robert, through his front teeth. "Not the one +that spells such with a T?" + +"Ah, chee!" says I. "What's the odds how she spells, so long as she's +got Lillian Russell in the back row? I didn't know your fat friend was +in the car, anyway, and I thinks Frenchy might as well be cartin' her +home in the rain as blockin' traffic on some side street. So I just +loads her in and gives Louie the word. She never knew but what you had +sense enough to do it yourself. Course, it was a fresh play for me to +make; but I'll stand for it, and if Benny's feelin's was hurt, or yours +was, you got an elegant show to take it out on me. Come on! Get out the +can and the string!" + +But you can't hustle Mr. Robert along that way. When he gets his +programme laid out there ain't any use to try any broad jumps. He wants +to know all about Mildred, who she is, where she comes from, and what's +her class. + +"You can take it from me," says I, "that she's a star. She's been up in +the top bunch too, I guess; anyone can see that. But so long as she's +jumped the job, where's the sense in lookin' up her pedigree now?" + +"Well," says Mr. Robert, "I am still more or less interested. You see, +she and Benny are to be married next month." + +"Honest?" says I. + +"I have it from Benny himself," says he. + +"Did Benny tell you how he worked up the nerve to make such a swift job +of it?" says I. + +He hadn't. Near as I could make out, Benny hadn't told much of anything. + +"Well," says I, "he's picked a winner, ain't he?" + +"That," says Mr. Robert, "is something I mean to find out." + +And say, if you ever see that jaw of Mr. Robert's, you'll know he did. +And she wa'n't an Astor or a Gould in disguise. She was just plain Miss +Morgan, that had come on with her mother from Kansas City, or Omaha, or +somewhere out there; put in six or eight months in a swell dressmaker's +shop; learned how to make herself the kind of clothes that look like +ready money; shuffled off her corn-belt accent; and then broke into the +typewritin' game while she waited for somethin' better to turn up. + +"And Benny was it, wa'n't he?" says I to Mr. Robert. + +"With your help, Torchy," says he, "it appears that he was." + +"Well," says I, "he needed the push, all right, didn't he!" + +Fired? Me? Ah, quit your kiddin'! Why, they're tickled to death now, all +of 'em. They're beginnin' to find out that Mildred's quite a girl, even +if she ain't got a lot of fat-wad folks back of her. + +And say, w'atcher think! Benny comes around here the other day wearin' a +broad grin, lugs me out to his tailor's to have me taped for a whole +outfit of glad rags, and says I've got to be one of the ushers at the +weddin'. Wouldn't that sting you? + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +SHUNTING BROTHER BILL + + +Don't talk to me about weddin's! Sure, I've been mixed up in one. Maybe +there was orange blossoms and so on; but all that's handed me is a bunch +of lemon buds. Not that I'm carryin' any grouch. I might have known +better'n to butt into any such doin's. Long as I stick to bein' head +office boy, I knows who's what, and what's which, and anyone that thinks +they can give me the double cross is welcome to a try; but when it comes +to sittin' in at a wilt-thou fest I'm a reg'lar Cousin Zeke from the +red-mitten belt. + +Maybe I wouldn't have done so bad, though, if it hadn't been for Aunt +Laura. And say, mark it up on the bulletin right here, she ain't my +aunt! She's Benny's. I was tellin' you how I loaded Mildred, our lady +typewriter that was, into Mr. Robert's car alongside of Bashful Benny, +and what came of it, wa'n't I! And how Benny's so grateful that he says +I've got to be one of the ushers? + +Well, it was all goin' lovely, and the gen'ral office force has chipped +in and bought 'em a swell weddin' present, and Benny's tailor has built +me a pair of striped pants and a John Drew coat, and Mr. Mallory's been +coachin' me how to act when I chase the folks into their seats, and +Piddie's been loadin' me up with polite conversation to fire off +whenever I gets a show, and everything's as gay around the shop as +though the directors had voted an extra dividend--when I'm stacked up +against Aunt Laura and it begins to cloud in the west. + +Aunt Laura is all Benny can show up for a fam'ly, and after you got to +know her you couldn't blame him for wantin' to start in on a new deal. +She's one of them narrow-eyed old girls that can look through a keyhole +without turnin' her head, and can dig up more suspicions in a minute +than most folks would in a month. I'll bet if the angel Gabriel should +show up and send in his card she'd make him prove who he was by playin' +the horn. + +It was a cinch she didn't mistake me for no angel, when Mr. Robert sends +me up there to do an errand for Benny. I wa'n't callin' for no aunts, +anyway, but just leavin' a note for Wilson--that's Benny's man--when +this sharp-nosed old party comes rubberin' into the front hall. + +"Marie," says she to the girl, "what boy is this? Where did he come +from? Who does he want to see? Don't you dare leave him alone for a +minute!" + +That last touch gets me in the short ribs. "Ah, say," says I, "do I look +like a hallrack artist?" + +"That'll do, young man!" says she. "You may not be as bad as you look; +but I have my doubts." + +"Same to you, ma'am, and many of 'em," says I. + +"Mercy!" says she. "What impertinence!" + + +"Please, ma'am," says the girl, "Mr. Ellins sent him up, and I----" + +"Oh!" says the old one. Then she gives me another look. "Boy," says she, +"what's your name!" + +"Torehy," says I. "Ain't it a snug fit?" + +"Oh!" says she again, and with the soft pedal on. "You're Torchy, are +you?" + +"There ain't any gettin' away from a name like that," says I. + +"Why," says she, doin' her best to call up a smile, "what a bright young +man you are!" + +"Specially on top," says I, throwin' a wink at Marie. + +"Ye-es," says Aunt Laura, "I always did think that copper-red shade of +hair was real pretty. Come right in, Torchy, while Marie gets you some +cake and a cup of tea." + +"I ain't turnin' the shoulder to any cake," says I; "but you can cut out +the tea." + +Well, say, inside of three minutes from the start I'm planted comf'table +in one of the libr'y chairs, eatin' frosted cake with both hands, while +Marie's off hustlin' up lemonade and fancy crackers. + +Course, it was somethin' of a shock, such a quick shift as that. I ain't +got a glimmer as to what Aunt Laura's end of the game was; but so long +as the home-made pastry holds out I was as good as nailed to the spot. +She seems to get a heap of satisfaction watchin' me eat, almost as much +as though she was feedin' ground glass to her best enemy. You've seen +that kind, that you can stand well enough until they begin to grin at +you. Aunt Laura's bluff at smilin' was enough to make a cat get its back +up, and you could tell she didn't really mean it, as well as if she'd +said, "Now I'm goin' to give you an imitation of somebody that's +pleased." + +And all the time she was dealin' out a line of talk that was as smooth +as wet asphalt. Most of it was hot air that she said Benny'd been givin' +to her about me, and how sweet Mildred thought I was. + +That should have been my cue; but I was too busy with the cake. + +"Miss Morgan is such a dear girl, isn't she?" says Aunt Laura. + +"Uh-huh," says I, pokin' in some frostin' that had lodged on the +outside. + +"You are quite well acquainted with her, aren't you?" says she. + +"Um-m-m-m," says I. + +"Let's see," goes on Aunt Laura, "what is it she did at the office!" + +"Chickety-click, ding-g-g!" says I, makin' motions with my fingers. + +"Oh, typewriting!" says she. "But I suppose she was very skillful at +it?" + +"Oh, she was a bird!" says I. + +See what was happenin'? I was bein' pumped. It was more'n that too. +Everything I knew about Mildred, and a lot I guessed at, was emptied out +of me like she was usin' one of these vacuum cleaners on my head. When I +gets to telling about the place out West where Mildred lived before she +and her maw hit New York, Aunt Laura jumps up. + +"Oh, I know some people who lived there once," says she. "I wonder if +any of them knew Miss Morgan?" + +With that she picks up the desk 'phone and gives a call. Did they know +any Miss Morgans out there? Yes, Mildred Morgan. Really! A brother too? +How interesting! Who was he, and what was he doing last? What! In the +State penitentiary! That was enough for Aunt Laura. She hangs up the +receiver and says to me: + +"Boy, when you get back to the office tell Mr. Robert I want to see him. +Come, you'd better be going now." + +It was a case of "Here's your hat--what's your hurry!" + +"Say," says I, "don't you go to swallowin' any tale about the Lady +Mildred havin' a brother that's a crook. There's lots of Morgans besides +her and J. P." + +But all Aunt Laura does is hold the door open for me; so I beats it, +feelin' about as chipper as though I'd been turnin' State's evidence. +The more I thinks of it, the cheaper I feels. Here I'd been playin' +myself for Mr. Foxy Cute, and had let an old lemon squeezer like Aunt +Laura wring me dry! + +Just what she's got up her sleeve about the penitentiary business, I +didn't know; but I wa'n't long in findin' out. Next day there was all +kinds of a row. Aunt Laura has looked up the invitation list for the +weddin', and, sure enough, among the also rans was a Mr. William Morgan, +with a State penitentiary address. With that, and what she'd heard over +the 'phone, Aunt Laura makes out a strong case. Was she goin' to stand +by and see her only nephew marry into a family of jailbirds? Not if she +could help it! So she calls in Mr. Robert and puts the layout before +him. + +It looks like a bad mess, with Mildred on the toboggan; for Mr. Robert +has said he'd see what could be done. He don't promise anything; but +Benny's always been such a willin' performer that he guesses maybe he +can talk him out of wantin' to get married. He didn't know Benny, +though. These short, fat, dimpled boys are just the ones to fool you, +and when it came to tellin' Benny about Brother Bill, that was doin' +time, Benny works his lips at high speed sayin' that he don't believe +it. + +"Anyway," says Benny, "it ithn't Bill I'm marrying. I don't give a cuth +for him. I'd juth ath thoon marry Mildred if her whole doothed family +wath in jail." + +"That settles it, Benny," says Mr. Robert. "If that's the way you feel. +I'll stand by you." + +Maybe Aunt Laura wa'n't wild, though, when she finds she can't block the +game. I was handlin' the office switchboard the afternoon she calls Mr. +Robert up to give him the rake-over, and the old girl warms up the wires +until she near has the lightnin' arresters out of business. It comes out +too that she's sore on Benny's bein' married because she sees the finish +of her steady job as boss of the house on the avenue. She can't queer +Mr. Robert though. + +"Benny seems to have a clear idea as to just whom he wants to marry," +says he, "and that's enough for me. If Miss Morgan has a brother in the +penitentiary, and Benny doesn't mind, I'm sure I don't. I've known lots +of fellows who wished their brothers-in-law were in the same place. +Anyway, he'll not trouble us by showing up at the wedding, even if she +did send him an invitation." + +That's the kind of a sport Mr. Robert is. He's dead game, and when +you've got him for a friend you'll know who to send for if you should +ever get run in. So we goes along gettin' ready for the weddin' same's +if nothin's happened. It's billed for a church hitch; but there ain't +been any advertisin' done, so they don't expect any crowd. Look when +they has it too--right at lunch time! + +"Chee!" says I to Mr. Robert, who's running the thing, "you must be +playin' for a frost. Now if you'd hire one of them Third-ave. halls and +band, you might give 'em somethin' of a send-off; but it'll be hard to +tell this racket from one of these noonday prayin' bees they has down in +the wholesale crock'ry district." + +Mr. Robert says that Benny bein' so bashful, and Mildred not knowin' +many folks on East, they wanted to make it as quiet as they could. + +"It'll have a pantomime show beat to death on quiet," says I. "Put me on +the door, will you, so's I can keep awake joshin' the sidewalk cop?" + +Mr. Robert says he thinks that'll be a good place for me, as they ain't +goin' to let anyone in without a ticket and I'm used to shuntin' cranks. +But say, I'm so rattled when I get inside of that suit they sent around +for me to wear that I don't know whether I'm goin' up or comin' down. +Honest, that coat made me feel like I was wearin' a dress. I didn't mind +the striped pants,--they was all to the good,--but them skirts flappin' +around my knees was the limit. + +Think I had the face to spring that outfit on the folks at the boardin' +house? Never in a year! Why, some of them Lizzie girls rangin' the block +would have guyed me out of the borough. I just folds the thing inside +out over my arm, like it was some one's overcoat I was takin' around to +have a button shifted, and when I gets to the church I slides up into +the gallery and makes a quick change. Mr. Robert looks me over and says +no one would guess it was me. + +"I'm hopin' they don't," says I. + +But as soon as the carriages begun comin' and I gets busy callin' for +the seat checks, I forgets how I looks and stops huntin' for some place +to stow my hands. It was a cinch job. There was only a few lady butt-ins +that had strayed over from the shoppin' district and smelled out a free +show. + +"We're intimate friends of the bride," says a pair of 'em; "but we've +forgotten our tickets." + +"That's good, but musty. Butt out, please," says I. + +Chee! but I ain't used up so much politeness since I can remember! It +was wearin' them clothes did it, I guess. + +Well, I was gettin' to feel real gay, for most everyone that was due was +inside, and I hadn't made any breaks to speak of, and it was near time +for the Lady Mildred to be floatin' in, when I pipes off a tall, +husky-lookin' gent, with a funny black lid and an umbrella tucked under +one arm, gawpin' up at the sign on the church. + +"Tourist from Punk Hollow lookin' for the Flatiron Buildin'," says I to +myself; but the next minute he comes meanderin' up the steps, fishin' a +card out of his pocket. You can bet I plants myself in the door and +calls for credentials! + +But, say, he had the goods. There was the ticket, all right, with the +name wrote on it, and it didn't need but one squint at the pasteboard +for me to break into a cold sweat. It wa'n't anybody else but Mr. +William Morgan! + +"Say," says I, as hoarse as a huckster, "are you Brother Bill?" + +"Why," says he, kind of surprised, but not half so stunned as I thought +he'd be,--"why, I suppose I am." + +You wouldn't have guessed it. Not that he didn't look the brother part; +for he did. He went Mildred two or three inches better in height, and he +had snappy black eyes and black hair like hers. The points that goes +with a striped suit and the lock step was missin', though. But how you +goin' to tell, in these times when our toniest fatwads is sittin' around +the mahogany votin' to raise the price of chewin' gum to-day, and +gettin' a free haircut to-morrow? There wa'n't any time for me to stand +there guessin' whether he'd been pardoned, or had slid down the rain +pipe. Somethin' had to be done, and done quick. + +"Dodge in here and wait a minute," says I. "There's some word been left +for you." + +With that I sneaks down the side aisle and into the little cloakroom, +where Mr. Robert was keepin' Benny's mind off'n what was comin' to him +by makin' him count the geranium leaves in the carpet. + +"Mr. Robert," says I, luggin' him off to one side, "you want to give up +predictin' the future. Bill's come!" + +"What Bill?" says he. + +"The one from the rock pile, Brother Bill," says I. + +"That's lovely!" says he. + +"It's all of that," says I. + +"I hope he's not wearing his uniform still," says Mr. Robert. + +"Not on the outside," says I. "He looks like he'd pinched a minister's +Monday suit somewhere. But it ain't the way he looks that's worryin' me; +it's what he's liable to do any minute to put the show on the blink." + +"That's so, Torchy," says he. "Can't we get him out of the way somehow?" + +"It's a tough proposition," says I; "but if you'll put on a sub for me +at the door, and give me leave to make any play that I happens to think +of, I'll tackle it." + +"Good!" says Mr. Robert. "And I'll make it worth a hundred to you to +keep him away from here until it's all over." + +"I'm on the job," says I. + +As I skips back I grabs my hat out from under a rear seat and makes +straight for Brother Bill. "Come on," says I. "She's waitin' for you +now. We've got just half an hour to do it in." + +Bill, he looks sort of jarred and reluctant; but I has him by the arm +and is chasin' him down the steps before he can ask any dippy questions. +First off I thought of runnin' him up the avenue until he's clean +winded; but I see by the way he strikes out that it would take more +lungs than I've got to do that. + +There was a lot of weddin' cabs and such waitin' round the corner, +though; so I steers him into the first one that has the apron up, jumps +in after him, shoves up the door in the roof, and sings out: + +"Beat it! This ain't any dream carnival you're hired for!" + +"What number?" says the bone thumper. + +For about two shakes I was up against it, and then the only place I +could think of was Benny's house; so I give him that, and off we goes. + +"But I say, young man," says Brother Bill, "I came on to go to the +wedding." + +"Sure," says I; "that'll be all right too. Didn't I tell you there was +some word left for you?" + +"Yes," says he, "I believe you did. Also you said something about her +waiting----" + +"Right again," says I. "She'll be tickled to death to see you too." + +"Yes; but the wedding?" says he. + +"That'll be there when we get back--maybe," says I. "You came on kind +of unexpected, eh?" + +"Yes," says he. "I didn't think I could get away at first; but I managed +it." + +"How'd you get out?" says I. "Was it a clean quit, or a little +vacation?" + +"Why--er--why," says he,--"yes, it was a--er--little vacation, as you +say." + +"Chee!" thinks I. "The nerve of him! Wonder if he sawed the bars, or +sneaked out in a packin' case?" But, say, I couldn't put it to him +straight. When I gets these bashful fits on I ain't any use. + +"How long you been in?" says I. + +"In?" says he. "Oh, I see! About five years." + +"Honest?" says I. + +Then I had another modest spell that won't let me ask him whether he'd +been put away for givin' rebates, or grabbin' for graft. I knew it must +have been somethin' respectable like that. Anyone could see he wa'n't +one of your strong arms or till friskers. + +I was just wishin' I knew how to work the force pump like Aunt Laura, +when we pulls up at the horse block, and it was up to me to think of +some new move. + +"She's here, is she?" says Mr. William. + +"You bet!" says I, wondering who he thought I meant. And then I gets +that funny feelin' I gen'rally has when I takes the high jump. "Come +on," says I. "We'll give her a surprise." + +It wa'n't anything else. I knew she'd be to home, 'cause I'd heard she +was too grouchy to go to the weddin' or have anything to do with it; so +when Marie let us in I throws a tall bluff and says for her to tell Aunt +Laura I've brought some one she wants to see very partic'lar. + +"Why," says Mr. Morgan, "there's been some mistake, hasn't there! I know +no such person. Why should she wish to see me?" + +"Sh-h-h-h!" says I. "Maybe she'll feed you frosted cake. It's one of her +tricks." + +She didn't, though. She looked about as smilin' as a dill pickle when +she showed up, and she opened the ball by askin' what I meant, bringin' +strangers there. + +"Well," says I, "you've been askin' a lot about him lately; so I thought +I'd lug him around. This is Brother Bill." + +"What!" says she, squealin' it out like I'd said the house was afire. +"Not the brother of that--that Morgan girl?" + +"Ask him," says I. "You're a star at that." + +Then I takes a peek at Bill. And say, I was almost sorry I'd done it. +For a party that'd just broke jail, he could stand the least I ever +saw. He looks as mixed up and helpless as a lady that's took a seat in +the smokin' car by mistake. I'd have helped him out then if I could have +thought how. It was too late, though, and Aunt Laura was no quitter. + +"How long is it," says she, jerkin' her head back and throwin' a look +out of her narrow eyes that must have gone clear through him, "since you +got out of the State penitentiary?" + +"Why--why--er--er----" begins Brother Bill. + +Then he has the biggest stroke of luck that ever came his way; for Marie +pushes in with the silver plate and a card on it. + +"Thank goodness!" says Aunt Laura, lookin' at the card. "The very person +I need! Ask Dr. Wackhorn to step in here." + +I thought he must be a germ chaser; but it was just a minister, a solid, +prosperous lookin' old gent, with white billboards and a meat safe on +him like a ten-dollar Teddy bear. He looks at Brother Bill, and Bill +looks at him. + +"Why, my dear William!" sings out the Doc, rushin' over with the glad +hand out. + +In two minutes it's all over. Dr. Wackhorn has introduced Bill as his +ex-assistant, who's gone West and got himself a job as chaplain in a +State prison, and Aunt Laura loses her breath tryin' to apologize to +both of 'em at once. Think of that! We'd been playin' him for all kinds +of a crook, and here he was a sure enough minister! + +Well, I gets him back to the church just in time for the last curtain, +so he can see what a stunner Mildred was in her canopy-top outfit. He's +all right, Brother Bill is. Never gives me any call-down for shuntin' +him off the way I did and makin' him miss most of the show. As I says to +him afterward: + +"Bill," says I, "that was one on me. But we did throw the hook into Aunt +Laura some! What?" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +KEEPING TABS ON PIDDIE + + +Say, I thought I knew Piddie. If anybody'd asked me to pick a party for +the Honest John act from among the crowd we got around the Corrugated +Trust here, I'd made J. Hemmingway Piddie my one best bet. He's been +with the concern ever since Old Hickory Ellins flim-flammed his partners +out of their share of the business and took out a New Jersey chartered +permit that allowed him to practice grand larceny. + +If Piddie hadn't been a pinhead, he'd had his name on the board of +directors years ago. But there ain't no use tryin' to make parlor +comp'ny out of kitchen help; so Piddie's just trailed along, bein' as +useful as he knew how, and workin' up from ten a week to one fifty a +month, just as satisfied as if he was gettin' his per cent. of the +profits. + +What he does around the shop wouldn't turn anyone gray-headed; but he +makes the most of it. He swells up more over orderin' a few office +supplies than Mr. Robert would about signin' a million-dollar contract, +and the way he keeps watch of the towels and soap and spring water you'd +think our stock was fallin' below par, 'stead of payin' nine per cent, +on common. Gen'rally Piddie don't handle anything but petty cash; but +once in awhile, when no one else is handy, they chuck something big his +way, and he never lets up until everyone knows all about it. You can +tell how chesty he feels, just by his strut. + +Well, there'd been a big rush on, and they was usin' Piddie more or less +frequent, so I was gettin' used to his makin' a noise like a balloon, +when one mornin' he come turkeyin' out to the brass gate and says to me: + +"Torchy, call up 0079 Broad and get the opening on Blitzen." + +"Sure," says I. "And if it touches seven-eighths don't you want to +unload a couple of thousand shares?" + +"When I have any further orders," says he, puffin' out his face, "you +will get them!" + +"Oh, slush!" says I. "Don't play so rough, Piddie." + +I was onto him, all right. I've seen these hot-air plungers before. They +follow up a stock for weeks, and buy and sell in six figures, and reckon +up how they've hit the market for great chunks--but it's all under their +lids. You can't spend pipe dreams, if you win; and if you lose, it +don't shrink the size of your really truly roll. It's almost as +satisfyin' as walkin by the back door of a bakery when you're hungry. +That kind of game is about Piddie's size, too. All it calls for is +plenty of imagination, and he's got that by the bale. I was kind of glad +to see him enjoyin' himself so innocent, and now and then I'd help along +the excitement. + +"Heard about how Morgan's tryin' to get hold of Blitzen?" I'd say, and +Piddie would prick up his ears like a fox-terrier sightin' a rat. + +"Who told you?" Piddie'd ask. + +"Why," I'd say, "I got it straight from a delicatessen man that lives on +the same block with a man that runs a hot dog cart in John-st. Don't +want anything closer'n that, do you!" + +Then Piddie'd look kind of foolish, and go off and call down some one +good and hard, just to relieve his feelin's. + +First thing I knew, though, Piddie was havin' star-chamber sessions with +a seedy-lookin' piker that wore an actor's overcoat and a brunette +collar that looked like it had been wished onto his neck about last +Thanksgivin'. They'd get together in a corner of the reception room and +whisper away for half an hour on a stretch. If it hadn't been Piddie, +I'd put it down for a hard-luck tale with a swift touch for a curtain; +but no one that ever took a second look at Piddie would ever waste +their time tryin' a touch on him. So I guessed the gent was a bucketshop +tout who was tryin' to interest Piddie in some kind of a deal. + +Still, I couldn't get any picture of Piddie takin' a chance with real +money. It wa'n't until I seen him walkin' around stary-eyed one day, and +gettin' nervous by the minute, that I could believe he's really been +rung in. He was goin' through all the motions, though, of a man that's +shoved everything, win or lose, on the red, and it was a circus to keep +tabs on him. He makes a bluff at bein' awful busy with the billbook; but +he couldn't stay at the desk more'n three minutes at a spell. Inside of +an hour I counted four times that he washed his hands and six drinks of +water that he had. + +"You'll be damp enough to need wringin' out, if you keep that up," says +I. + +"Keep what up?" says he. Honest, he was so rattled he didn't know +whether he was usin' the roller towel or runnin' over the ticker tape. +Half an hour before lunchtime he skips out and leaves word with me that +maybe he'll be back late. + +"All right," says I. "If the boss calls for you I'll tell him he'll have +to shut down the shop until you blow in again." + +Maybe you've seen symptoms like that in a hired man. It gen'rally means +that there's somethin' doin' in ponies or margins, and that next payday +is goin' to seem a long ways off. If I'd been asked to give a guess, I +should have put it as about two hundred bucks that Piddie had thrown +into the market. Anyway, it wa'n't enough to knock the props out of +call-money quotations; so I was lettin' Piddie do all the worryin'. + +He didn't show back at twelve-thirty, nor at twelve-forty-five. Some one +else did, though. She was a nice little lady, one of the smooth-haired, +big-eyed kind, as soft talkin' and as gentle actin' as the heroine in +"No Weddin' Cake for Her'n," just before she gets to the weepy scenes. +You could see by the punky mill'nery and the last season's drygoods that +she'd just drifted in from Mortgagehurst, New Jersey. The little snoozer +she has by the hand was a cute one, though. When he gets a glimpse of my +sunset top piece he sings out: + +"O-o-o-o, mama! Burny, burn!" + +"Why, Hemmingway!" says she. "I am surprised. Naughty, naughty!" + +"Don't worry, lady," says I. "The kid's got it dead right--it's one of +them kind." + +Then I wets my finger and shows him how it'll go "S-z-z!" when I touch +it off. That gets a laugh out of little Hemmingway, and in a minute +we're all good friends. + +She's Mrs. Piddie, of course, and she's a brick. Say, how is it these +two-by-fours can pull out such good ones so often? Why, if she'd been +got up accordin' to this year's models, and could have thrown the front +she ought to, she'd have been fit for a first-tier box at the grand +op'ra. + +"Chee!" thinks I. "Did she pick Piddie in the dark?" + +She'd come in to drag him out shoppin' and hypnotize him into loosenin' +up. It was a case of gettin' things for little Hemmingway. + +"Me, I go have new s'oes, an' new coat wif pockets too," says he. + +Say, they wins me, kids like that do. There's some I ain't got any use +for, the kind brought up in hotels and boardin' houses that learn to +play to the gallery before they can feed themselves, and others I could +name; but clean, grinnin' youngsters, with big eyes that take in +everything, they're good to have around. And, little Hemmy was a star. I +got so int'rested showin' him things in the office that I clean forgot +about Piddie and what he was up to. + +"He will be back soon, won't he?" says Mrs. Piddie. + +Now if you give me time I can slick up an answer so it'll sound like the +truth and mean something else; but as an offhand liar I'm a frost. +Somehow I always has to swaller somethin' before I can push out a cold +dope. Course, I knew he'd got to be back before long; but I see right +off that this wa'n't any day for a fam'ly reunion. Piddle wa'n't goin' +to be any too sociable by dinner time that night, 'less'n he'd hit up +the bucketshop, which the chances was against. So it was my turn to make +a foxy play. + +"He's due here before long, that's a fact," says I, "but there's no +tellin'. You see, there's a big deal on, and Mr. Piddie's gone downtown, +and----" + +"Oh!" says Mrs. Piddle, her eyes shinin'. "Then he has some important +business engagement?" + +You couldn't help seein' how she had it framed up,--the whole Corrugated +Trust and half of Wall Street holdin' its breath while hubby, J. +Hemmingway Piddie, Esq., worked his giant intellect for the good of the +country. + +"That's it," says I. "I couldn't say pos'tive that he'd be as late as +four o'clock; but----" + +"Oh! then we'll not wait," says she, "Come, Hemmingway, we must go +home." + +"Don't I det my new s'oes?" says Hemmy. + +There was a proposition for you! The kid was runnin' true to form and +stickin' to the main line. No side issues for him! Pop might be a big +man, and all that; but his size didn't cut much ice alongside of the +new-shoes prospect. Things was beginnin' to look squally, and Mrs. +Piddie's mouth corners was saggin' some, when I has a thought. + +"Hold on," says I. "Maybe he's left a note or something for you." + +See what it is to have a little wad stowed away in the southwest corner +of your jeans? I slips through into the main office, gets one of the +typewriter girls to address an envelope to Mrs. Piddie, jams a sawbuck +into it, and comes out smilin'. + +"Maybe this'll do as well as Pop himself," says I. "Feels like it had +long green in it," and the last I heard of little Hemmy he was tellin' +the elevator man about the "new s'oes" that was comin' to him. + +"It's a fool way to lend out coin," thinks I; "but what's the diff? That +kid's got his hopes set on bein' shod to-day, and Piddie's bound to make +good sometime." + +Piddie didn't look it, though, when he drifts in about one-thirty. If +he'd had a load on his mind earlier in the day, he'd got somethin' more +now. Just sittin' at the desk doin' nothin made the dew come out on his +noble brow like it was the middle of August. He was too much of a wreck +to stand any joshin'; so I let him alone, not even tellin' him about the +fam'ly visit. + +The first thing I knows he comes over to me, his jaw set firmer'n I +ever see it shut before, and a kind of shifty look in his eyes. He hands +me a letter and a package. + +"Torchy," says he, "take these down to that address just as soon as you +can. You've got to go quick. Understand?" + +"Fourth speed, advanced spark, that's me!" says I, grabbin' my hat and +coat. "Free track for the Piddie special! Honk, honk!" and I jams him up +against the letterpress as I makes a rush for the door. + +When I gets into the subway I sizes up the stuff I'm carryin'. Well say, +it ain't often I gets real curious; but this was one of them times. I +started in by rollin' a pencil under the envelope flap while the gum was +moist. Not that I'd made up my mind to rubber; but just so's I could if +I took the notion. And, sure enough, I got the notion, or it got me. + +Chee! I near slid off the rattan seat when I reads that note. Guess I +must have sat there, starin' bug-eyed and lookin' batty, from 14th to +Wall. Do you know what that mush-head of a Piddie was at? He was givin' +an order to bolster up Blitzen by buyin' up to a hundred thousand +shares, and in the package was a bunch of gilt-edged securities to cover +the margins. + +Now wouldn't that jiggle the grapes on sister's new lid? Piddie, a +narrow-gauge, dime-pinchin' ink-slinger, doin' the bull act like he was +a sooty plute from Pittsburg! That's what comes of swallowin' the +get-rich-fast bug. + +Well, when I gets out at the Street I didn't have any programme planned. +First I strolls down to the number on the letter and takes a look at the +buildin'. That was enough. There was some good names on the hall +directory; but most of 'em was little, two-room, fly-by-night firms, +with a party 'phone for a private wire and a mail-order list bought +off'm patent medicine concerns. The people Piddie was doin' business +with was that kind. + +Next I takes a walk around into Broad-st., where the mounted cops keep +the big-wind bunch roped in so's they can't break loose and pinch the +doorknobs off the Subtreasury. The ear-muff brigade was lettin' +themselves out in fine style, tradin' in Ground Hog bonds, Hoboken gas, +Moonshine preferred, and a whole lot of other ten-cent shares, as +earnest as if they was under cover and biddin' on Standard Oil firsts. + +While I was lookin' 'em over, wonderin' what to do next, I spots Abey +Winowski on the fringe of the push. And say, it wa'n't so long ago that +Abey was wearin' sky-blue pants and a Postal shield, trottin' out with +messages from District Ten. But here he is, with a checked ulster and a +five-dollar hat, writin' figures on a pad. + +"Hello, Motzie!" says I. "How long since they lets the likes of you +inside the ropes?" + +"Hello, Torchy!" says he. "Got any orders?" + +"I'm lined with 'em," says I. "What's good?" + +"Blitzen," says he. "It's on the seesaw; but'll fetch fifty." + +"Ain't it a wildcat?" says I. + +"Just from the menagerie," says he. "Goin' to take a dollar flyer?" + +"Guess I'll see what my brokers has to say first," says I. + +With that I goes around to a little joint I knows of, where they has a +board for unlisted stocks, and I sets back and watches the curves +Blitzen was makin'. First she'd jump four or five points, and then she'd +settle back heavy. The Curb was playin' tag with it; that was all, so +far as I could see. Nice lot of Hungry Jakes to feed with +int'rest-bearin' securities! + +About fifteen minutes before the market closed I quit and moseyed along +uptown, just killin' time and tryin' to figure out what ought to be +done. Course, I didn't have any idea of playin' private detective and +showin' Piddie up to Mr. Robert,--that's out of my line,--but I didn't +like the scheme of just chuckin' the bonds back at him and let him get +away with any bluff about my interferin' with something I didn't +understand at all. Besides, if the returns showed that he'd have won on +the deal, what was to hinder his tryin' the same trick again next time +he got the chance? That wouldn't been a fair shake for the firm. + +Say, I worked my thinker overtime that trip; but I couldn't dig up a +thing that was worth savin' from the scrap basket, and when I strolled +into the office just about closin' time I wa'n't any nearer to knowin' +what to do than when I started. + +Most everyone had left when I pushes through the gate and takes a peek +into Piddie's office. He was there. And, say, for a speakin' likeness of +a dropped egg that's hit the floor instead of the toast, he was it! He's +slumped all over the desk, with his head in his hands, and his hair all +mussed up, and his shoulders lopped. I always suspicioned he was built +out with pneumatic pads, and blew himself up in the mornin' before he +buttoned on the four-inch collar that kept his chin up; but I did'nt +guess he had a rubber backbone. It was a case of fush with Piddie. He +was all in. What I could see of his face had about as much color to it +as a sheet of blottin' paper. + +Layin' on the floor was a map of the whole disaster. It was a Wall +Street extra, with a scarehead story of how Blitzen had kept 'em +guessin' all day and then, in the last quarter of an hour of tradin', +had gone bumpin' the bumps from twenty-eight down to almost nothin' at +all. I didn't stop to read the whole thing; but I read enough to find +out that Blitzen had gone soarin' on a false alarm, and that when the +facts was give out right the balloon had took fire. And there was +Piddie, still fallin'! + +"Hello," says I. "You look like a boned ham that's in need of the acid +bath and sawdust stuffin'. What's queered you so sudden?" + +He jumps and tries to pull himself together when he first hears me; but +after he finds who it is he goes to pieces again and flops back in the +chair groanin'. + +"Is it new mown hay of the lungs, or too many griddle cakes on the +stomach?" says I. + +But he only gasps and groans some more. Maybe I should of felt sorry for +him; but, knowin' the sort of sprung kneed near crook he was, I didn't. +He was scared mostly, and he was doin' all the sympathizin' for himself +that was needed. All of a sudden he braces up and looks at his watch. + +"Perhaps you didn't get there in time?" says he. + +"With the letter and package?" says I. "Watcher take me for? Think I got +mucilage on my shoes? I was there on time, all right." + +"Oh, mercy!" says he. "Torchy, I'm a ruined man." + +"You look it," says I; "but cheer up. You never was much account anyway; +so there's no great harm done." + +Then he begins to blubber, and leak brine, and take on like a woman with +a sick headache. "It wasn't my fault," says he. "I was led into it. +Torchy, tell them I was led into it! You'll believe that, won't you?" + +"Cert," says I. "I'll make affidavit I seen 'em snap the ring in your +nose. But what's it all about?" + +"Oh, it's something awful that's happened to me," he wails. "It's too +terrible to talk about. You'll know to-morrow. I sha'n't be alive then, +Torchy." + +"Ain't swallowed a buttonhook, have you?" says I. + +Next he begins throwin' a fit about what's goin' to become of the missus +and the kid. Say, I've been in at two or three acts like this before, +and I gen'rally notice that at about such a stage they play that card, +the wife and kid. Your real tough citizen don't, nor your real +gent,--they shuts their mouths and takes what's comin' to 'em,--but Mr. +Weakback has a sudden rush of mem'ry about the folks at home, and +squeals like a pup with his tail shut in the door. + +"Ah, say," says I, "cut it out! You ought to move up to Harlem and learn +to pound the pipes. You're a healthy plunger, you are, sneakin' bonds +out of the safe to stack up against a crooked game, and then playin' the +baby act when you lose out! Come now, ain't that the awful thing that's +happened to you?" + +He couldn't have opened up freer if he'd been put through the third +degree. I gets the story of his life then, with a handkerchief +accomp'niment,--all about the house he's tryin' to buy through the +buildin' loan, and the second-hand bubble he wants to splurge on 'cause +the neighbors have got 'em, and how he was tipped off to this sure thing +in Blitzen by a party that had always been a friend of his but couldn't +get hold of the stuff to turn the trick himself. He put in all the fine +points, even to the way he came to have a chance at the safe. + +"If I could only put them back!" says he, sighin'. + +"What then?" says I. "Next time I s'pose you'd swipe the whole series, +wouldn't you?" + +If you could have heard him tell how good he'd be you'd think practicin' +a little crooked work now and then was the only sure way to learn how to +keep straight. + +"Piddie," says I, "I don't want to hurt your feelin's, but you act to me +like a weak sister. If I was to do what the case calls for, this thing +ought to go to the boss." + +"Please don't, Torchy! Please don't!" says he, scrabblin' down on his +hands and knees. + +"Nix on that!" says I. "This is no carpet-layin' bee. I'm no squealer, +anyway; besides, I had a little interview with Mrs. Piddie and the kid +this noon, and after seein' them I can't rub it in like you deserve. +What I've seen and heard I'm goin' to forget. Now sit up straight while +I break the news to you gentle. I went down there to-day, just as you +told me." + +"Yes, I know," he groans, squirmin'. + +"But I didn't like the looks of the joint; so I didn't dump the bonds. +There they are. Now see they get back where you found 'em!" + +Talk about your hallelujah praise meetin's! Piddie was havin' one, all +by himself--when the inside door opens and Mr. Roberts steps out of his +office. + +"I'll take care of those bonds, Mr. Piddie," says he. + +Chee! what a stunner! Mr. Robert had been in there all the time, writin' +private letters, and had took in the whole business. + +Did he give Piddie the fire on the spot? Nah! Mr. Robert carries around +a frigid portico; but he's got a warm spot inside. He says he's mighty +sorry to hear how near Piddie'd come to goin' wrong; but he's glad it +turned out the way it did, and if Piddie'll say how much they rung him +in for on Blitzen he'll be happy to make good right there. + +And how much do you guess? A pair of double X's! He'd worried himself +near sick, worked himself up desp'rate, and had finished by doin' +something that stood to get him put away for ten or fifteen years--all +for forty bucks! + +"Piddie," says I, "for a tinhorn, you're a wonder! But, say, when you +get home to-night tell that kid of yours I want to see them new shoes of +his before he gets the toes all stubbed out." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +A WHIRL WITH KAZEDKY + + +Chee! W'atcher think? I ain't read an "Old Sleut'" for more'n a week, +and there's two murder myst'ries runnin' in the sportin' extras that I'm +way behind on. You wouldn't guess it in a month, but I'm takin' a fall +out of the knowledge game. Mr. Mallory says I'm part in the sixt' grade +and part in the eight'. + +"I believe it," says I; "my nut feels that way." + +Honest, I'm stowin' away so much that I never knew before that I'm +thinkin' of wearin' a leather strap around my head, same's these strong +boys wears 'em on their wrists. + +"Ah! w'at's the use?" says I. "Nobody's ever goin' to ask me what's four +per cent of thoity thousand plunks, an' if I had that much I wouldn't +farm it out for less'n six, anyway. And I don't see where this De Soto +comes in. Sounds like he might have played first base for the Beanies; +but he's been dead too long for that. What odds does it make if I don't +know the capital of Nevada? I ain't lookin' for no divorce, am I?" + +But there's no shakin' Mallory off. He's dug up a lot of kid school +books for me, and I got 'em stowed away in the desk here, like this was +P. S. 46, 'stead of the front office of the Corrugated Trust. And when I +ain't takin' cards into the main squeezes, or answerin' fool questions +over the 'phone, or chasin' out on errands for Piddie, I'm swallowin' +chunks of information about the times when G. Wash. was buildin' forts +in Harlem and makin' good for a continuous in front of the Subtreasury. + +Course, it's a clean waste of time. Suppose I gets the run next week, +could I win another head office boy job by spielin' off a mess of guff +about a lot of dead ones? Nit, never! But Mallory's got the bug that +it'll all come in handy to me sometime, and I'm doin' it just to keep +him satisfied. We get together most every night in his room, and I has +to cough up what I've got next to durin' the day. And say, when I've +been soldierin', and try to run in a stiff bluff instead of the real +goods, he looks as disappointed as if I'd done something real low down. +So gen'rally I hits up the books when there's nothin' else doin'. + +Mr. Robert's on. He comes in one mornin' and pipes off the 'rithmetic. +"What's this, Torchy?" says he. "Studying?" + +"Yep," says I. "When I went through Columbia College there wa'n't +anybody there but the janitor; so I'm takin' a postprandial whirl at +this number dope, and it's fierce." + +"Whose idea?" says he. + +"Mr. Mallory's," says I. "But I've laid it out flat to him that I draws +the line at Greek. I'd never want to talk like them 23d-st. flower +peddlers, not in a thousand years!" + +Didn't tell you, did I, about Mallory's doin' the skyrocket act? After +Mr. Robert gets next to the fact that Mallory's a two seasons' old +football hero from his old college he yanks him out of that +twelve-dollar-a-week filin' job and makes him a salaried gent, inside of +two days. + +"Which is something I owe chiefly to you, Torchy," says Mallory. + +"Honk, honk!" says I. "Them's the kind of ideas that will get you run in +for reckless thinkin'. You was winnin' all that when you did that sprint +for goal your friend Dicky was tellin' about the other day. Now all you +got to do is get up on your toes and make one or two touchdowns for old +Corrugated." + +"I know," says he; "but I'm afraid that in this game I'm outclassed." + +Honest, he was scared stiff; but he didn't let anyone but me see it. +Even a little thing like goin' down to Wall Street and lookin' up some +securities gets him rattled. He hadn't been gone more'n an' hour 'fore +he calls me up on the 'phone and says some broker's clerk has asked him +if our concern don't want to bid on P. O. privileges at seven-eighths. +"What are P. O. privileges?" says Mallory. + +"Oh, tush!" says I. "And you let 'em hand you such a burry one? P. O. +privileges is the right to lick stamps at the gen'ral post-office, and +it's a gag them curb shysters has wore to a frazzle. You go back and +tell that fresh paper-chewer we're only buyin' options on July snow +removals preferred." + +That's what comes of foolin' around at college. Mallory comes back +lookin' like some one had sold him a billboard seat to a free window +show. + +But that was nothin' to the down-and-out slump I found him in next +night, when I goes around for my writin' lesson and so on. + +"Is it the _spino comeandgetus_," says I, "or has Miss Tuttifrutti +sent back your Christmas card?" + +"It's worse than either," says he, with his chin on the top button of +his vest. "I guess I'm what you would call a false alarm, Torchy. I've +been tried out and haven't made good." + +"G'wan!" says I. "Everyone gets a lemon now and then. Some tries to +swaller it whole, and chokes to death; others mixes 'em up with eggs and +things, and knocks out a pie, with meringue on top. Draw us a map of how +you fell off the scaffold." + +Well, I jollied the hard luck tale out of him. It was a case of sendin' +a boy with a pushcart to bring home a grand piano. The Old Man had done +it. He's kind of sore on the way Mr. Robert lugged Mallory in by the +hair, 'cause I heard him growlin' somethin' about makin' a kindergarten +out of the Corrugated; so he springs this on him. He calls for Mallory +and tells him there's a Russian gent down to the Waldorf that's come +over to place a big Gover'ment contract. + +"We've got to have a slice of that," says he. "Just you run down and get +it for us." Like that, offhand, as if it was somethin' you could do +anytime between lunch and one-thirty. + +Near as I could make out, Mallory goes for it in his polite, standoff, +after-you way, and the closest he gets to Russky is a minute with a +cocky secretary that says his Excellency is very sorry, but he'll be too +busy to see him this trip--maybe next time, about 1912, he'll have an +hour off. + +"And then you backs up the alley?" says I. + +"There was nothing else for me to do," says Mallory. "He went off +without giving me another chance." + +"Say," says I, "if I had all your parlor manners, I'd organize an +English holdin' comp'ny for 'em, so's not to be jacked up for bein' a +monopoly. Why didn't you give him the low tackle and sit on his head +until he promised to behave? Was that the only try you made?" + +"No, I sent up my card twice after that," says he, "and it came back. So +I've flunked. I think I'd better go down in the morning and resign." + +Now wouldn't that rust you? + +"Then here goes the books," says I, chuckin' 'em into the corner. "If +doin' the knowledge stunt leaves you with a backbone like a piece of +boiled spaghetti, I'm through." + +That makes Mallory sit up as if I'd jabbed him with a pin. "Do I seem +that way to you?" says he. + +"You don't think you're givin' any weight-liftin' exhibition, do you?" +says I. + +He lets that trickle through for a minute or so, and then he comes back +to life. "Torchy," says he, "you're right. I'm acting like a quitter. +But I don't mean to let go just yet. Hanged if I don't try to see that +man to-night, now, as quick as I can get down there! He's got to see me, +by Jove!" + +"There's more sense to that than anything else you've said in a week," +says I. "Wish I could be there to hold your hat." + +"Why not?" says he. "Come on. I may need fresh inspiration." + +"Whatever I gives you'll be fresh, all right," says I; "but if I was +you, and was goin' to butt into any Fifth-ave. hotel along about +dinner-time, I'd wear the regalia. Yours ain't in on a ticket, is it?" + +It wa'n't. Mallory had to go clear to the bottom of the trunk after it; +but when he'd shook out the wrinkles and got himself inside the view was +worth while. After he's blown up his op'ra hat and got out his stick you +couldn't tell him from a three times winner. + +"Chee!" says I. "You've got Silent Smith tied to a post. If you acts +like you look, you don't need me." + +He wouldn't have it that way, though. I'd got to go along and be ready +to give him any points I thought of. We goes in a cab, too, in over the +rubber mats to the carriage door, just like we'd come to hire the royal +suite. + +"The Baron Kazedky," says Mallory, shovin' his card across at the near +plute behind the desk. + +Then the cold wave begun comin' our way. Mister Baron was out. Nobody +knew where he'd gone. He hadn't left any word. And he didn't receive +callers after four P.M., anyway. Mallory was gettin' his breath after +stoppin' them body blows, when I pushes in. + +"Say, Sir Wally," says I, leanin' over towards the clerk and speakin' +confidential, "lemme give you somethin' from the inside. If Kazedky +misses seein' Mr. Mallory to-night, you'll be called up to-morrow to +hear some Russian language that'll take all the crimp out of that Robert +Mantell bang of yours. Now ring up one of them bench-warmers and show us +the Baron!" + +But, say, you might's well try bluffin' your way through the fire lines +on a brass trunk check, "You'll find the manager's office two doors to +the left, gentlemen," says he. + +"Much obliged for nothin'," says I. + +Course, there wa'n't any use registerin' a kick. Orders is orders, and +we was on the wrong side of the fence. Mallory and I takes a turn +through the corridors and past the main dinin'-room, where they keeps an +orchestra playin' so's the got-rich-quick folks won't hear each other +eat their soup. + +We was tryin' to think up a new move. I was for goin' out somewhere and +callin' for the Baron over the 'phone; but Mallory's got his jaw set now +and says he don't mean to leave until he has some kind of satisfaction. +He's kind of slow takin' hold; but when he gets his teeth in he's a +stayer. + +We knocks around half an hour, and nothin' happens. Then, just as we was +pushin' through the mob into the Palm Room I runs into Whitey Buck. You +know about Whitey, don't you? Well, you've seen his name printed across +the top of the sportin' page that he runs. And say, Whitey's the smooth +boy, all right! Him and me used to do some great old joshin' when I was +on the Sunday editor's door. + +"Hello, Whitey!" says I. "Who you been workin' for a swell feed now?" + +"That you, Torchy?" says he. "Why, I took your head for an exit light. +How's tricks?" + +"On the blink," says I. "We're up against a freeze out, Mr. Mallory and +me. You know Mallory, don't you?" + +"What, Skid Mallory?" says he, takin' another look. "What a pipe! Why, +say, old man, I want you the worst way. Got to hash up a full-page +sympose knockin' reformed football, and if you'll take off a +thousand-word opinion I'll blow you to anything on the bill of fare. +Come on in here to a table while we chew it over. Torchy, grab a garcon. +Sizzlin' sisters! but I'm glad to root you out, Skid!" + +He was all of that; but it didn't mean anything more'n that Whitey sees +an easy column comin' his way. + +Mr. Mallory wa'n't so glad. "Sorry," says he, "but whatever football +reputation I ever had I'm trying to live down." + +"What!" says Whitey. "Trying to make folks forget the nerviest +quarterback that ever pranced down the turf with eleven men after him? +Don't you do it. Besides, you can't. Why, that run of yours through the +Reds has been immortalized in a whole library of kid story books, and +they're still grinding 'em out!" + +Mallory turns the color of the candleshades and shakes his head. "You +print any such rot as that about me," says he, "and I'll come down and +wreck the office. I'm out of all that now, and into something that has +opened my eyes to what sort of useless individual I am. Behold, Whitey, +one of the unfit!" + +Then Whitey wants to know all about it. + +"It's nothing much," says Mallory, "only I've been sent out to do +business with a Russian Baron, and I'm such a chump I can't even get +within speaking distance of him." + +"What Baron?" says Whitey. "Not Kazedky?" + +"That's the identical one," says Mallory. "Don't happen to know him, do +you?" + +"I sure do," says Whitey. "Didn't he and I have a heart to heart session +when that sporty Russian Prince was over here and got himself pinched at +a prizefight? Kazedky was secretary of the legation then, and it was +through me he got the story muffled." + +"Wish you could find out where he is now," says Mallory. + +"Don't have to," says Whitey; "I know. He's up in private dining-room +No. 9. Been captured by a gang of Chamber of Commerce men, who are +feeding him ruddy duck and terrapin and ten-dollar champagne. He's got a +lot of steel contracts up his sleeve, you know, and----" + +"Yes, I know," says Mallory; "but how can I get to see him?" + +"Who are you with?" says Whitey. + +"Corrugated Trust," says Mallory. + +"Wow!" says Whitey, them skim-milk eyes of his gettin' big. "They +wouldn't let you within a mile of him if they knew. But say, suppose I +could lug him outside, would I get that football story?" + +"You would," says Mallory. + +"By to-morrow noon?" says he. + +"Before morning, if you'll stay at the office until I get through here," +says Mallory. + +"Good!" says Whitey. "Come on! I'll snake him out of there if I have to +drag him by the collar. But he's a fussy old freak, and I don't +guarantee he'll stay more than a minute." + +"That's enough," says Mallory. "He can talk French, I suppose?" + +"What's the matter with English?" says Whitey. "Now let's see what kind +of hot air I'll give him." + +Whitey didn't say what it was he thinks up; but he was grinnin' all +over his face when he leaves us outside of No. 9 and goes in where the +corks was poppin'. It must have been a happy thought, though; for it +wa'n't long before he comes out, towin' a dried-up little old runt with +a full set of face lambrequins and a gold dog license hung round his +neck from a red ribbon. He had his napkin in one hand and half a dinner +roll in the other; so it didn't look like he meant to make any long +stop. He was actin' kind of dazed, too, like he hadn't got somethin' +clear in his mind, and he hung back as if he was expectin' some one to +hand out a bomb. But Whitey rushes him right up to Mallory. + +"Here's the chap, Baron!" says he. "I couldn't let you go back to Russia +without shaking hands with the greatest quarterback America ever +produced. Mr. Mallory, Baron Kazedky," and then he winks at Mallory, +much as to say, "Now jump in!" + +And say, Mallory was Johnny on the spot. He grabs Kazedky's flipper like +it was a life preserver. + +"I--I--really, gentlemen, there's some mistake," says the Baron. "A +quarter what, did you say?" + +"Oh," says Mallory, "that's some of Mr. Buck's tomfoolery--football +term, you know." + +"But I am not interested in football," says the Baron, tryin' to back +towards the door, "not in the least." + +"Me either," says Mallory, gettin' a new grip on him. "What I want to +talk to you about is steel. Now, I represent the Corrugated Trust, and +we----" + +Well say, the old man himself couldn't have reeled it off better'n +Mallory. Why, he had it as letter perfect as a panhandler does his tale +about bein' in the hospital six weeks and havin' four hungry kids at +home. I only hears the start of it; for as soon as he got well under way +Mallory starts for the other end of the corridor, skatin' the little old +Baron along with him like he was a Third-ave. clothing store dummy that +was bein' hauled in at closin'-up time. + +Whitey didn't even wait for the overture. The minute he hands Kazedky +over he fades towards the elevator. There's nothin' for me to do but +wait; so I picks out a red velvet chair and camps down on it to watch +the promenade. That's what it was, too; for Mallory acts like he'd +forgot everything he ever knew except that he's got to talk steel into +the Baron. I guess it was steel he was talkin'! Every time he passes me +I hear him ringin' in Corrugated, and drop forged, and a lot of things +like that. + +Mallory has a right-arm hook on Kazedky and is makin' motions with his +left hand. Bein' so tall, he has to lean over to pump his speech into +the old fellow's ear; but every now and then he gets excited and, 'stead +of bendin' himself, he lifts the Baron clear off his feet. + +About the third lap some of the gents from the private dinin'-room pokes +their heads out to see what's happened to the guest of the evenin'. They +saw, all right! They must have been suspicious, too; for they were +lookin' anxious, and begun signaling him to break away. + +The Baron didn't have no time for watchin' signals just then. He was +busy tryin' to keep his feet on the floor. First I knew there was a +whole gang at the door watchin' 'em, and they was talkin' over makin' a +rush for the Baron and rescuin' him, I guess, when Mallory leans him up +against the wall, hauls out a pad and a fountain pen, and hands the +things to Kazedky. The Baron drapes bis napkin over one arm, stuffs the +piece of roll into his mouth, and scribbles off somethin'. + +When he's done that Mallory pockets the pad, leads the Baron back to his +friends, shakes hands with him, motions to me, and pikes for the +elevator. The last glimpse I has of Kazedky, he's bein' pulled into the +private dinin'-room, with that half a roll stickin' out of his face like +a bung in a beer keg. + +"Well, Torchy," says Mallory to me, as the car starts down, "I got it!" + +"Got what!" says I. + +"Why, the contract," says he. + +"Chee!" says I. "Is that all? I thought you was pullin' one of his back +teeth." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +DOWN THE BUMPS WITH CLIFFY + + +Say, if you read in the papers to-morrow about how the Chicago Limited +was run on a siding and a riot call wired back to the nearest Chief of +Police, you needn't do any guessin' as to what's happened. It'll be a +cinch that Clifford's gettin' in his fine work; for the last I saw of +him he was headed West, and where he is there's trouble. + +But you mustn't tear off the notion that Clifford's a Mr. Lush, that +goes and gets himself all lit up like a birthday cake and then begins to +mix it. That ain't his line. He's one of the camel brand. The nearest he +ever gets to red liquor is when he takes bottled grape juice for a +spring tonic; but for all that he can keep the cops busier'n any thirsty +man I ever saw. + +First glimpse I gets of him was when I looks up from the desk and sees +him tryin' to find a break in the brass rail. And say, there wa'n't any +doubt about his havin' come in from beyond where they make up the milk +trains. Not that he wears any R. Glue costume. From the nose pinchers, +white tie, and black cutaway I might have sized him up as a cross +between a travelin' corn doctor and a returned missionary; but the ear +muffs and the umbrella and the black felt lid with the four-inch brim +put him in the tourist class. He was one of your skimpy, loose-jointed +parties, with a turkey neck that had a lump in front and wa'n't on good +terms with the back of his coat collar. Two of his front teeth was set +on a bias, givin' him one of these squirrel mouths that keeps you +thinkin' he's just goin' to bite into an apple. + +I watched him a minute or so without sayin' anything, while he was +pawin' around for the gate sort of absent minded, and when I thinks it's +about time to wake him up I sings out: + +"Say, Profess, you're on the right side of the fence now; let it go at +that." + +"Ah--er--I beg pardon," says he. + +"Well," says I, "that's a good start." + +"I--er--I beg----" says he. + +"You've covered that ground," says I. "Take a new lead." + +That seems to rattle him more'n ever. He hangs his umbrella over one +arm, peels off a brown woolen mitt, and fishes a card out of his inside +pocket. "This is the--ah--Corrugated Trust Building, is it not?" says +he. + +"It is, yes," says I; "but the place where you cash in your scalper's +book ticket is down on the third floor." + +"Oh!" says he. "Thank you very much," and he starts to trot out. He has +his hand on the knob, when a new thought comes to him. He tiptoes back +to the gate, pries off one of the ear muffs, and leans over real +confidential. "I didn't quite understand," says he. "Did you say Cousin +Robert's was the third door?" + +"Chee!" says I. "Willie, take off the other one, so you can get a good +healthy circulation through the belfry." + +The words seemed to daze him some; but he tumbled to my motions and +unstoppered his south ear. + +"Now," says I, "what's this about your Cousin Bob? Where'd you lose +him?" + +Watcher think, though? I gets it out of him that he's come all the way +from Bubble Creek, Michigan, and is lookin' for Mr. Robert Ellins. With +that I lets him through, plants him in a chair, and goes in to the boss. + +"Say," says I to Mr. Robert, "there's a guy, outside that's just floated +in from the breakfast food belt and is callin' for Cousin Robert. Here's +his card." + +"Why, that must be Clifford!" says he. + +"Then it's true, is it, the cousin business?" says I. + +"Certainly it is, Torchy," says he. "Why not?" + +"Oh, nothin'," says I. "I wouldn't have thought it, though." + +"It isn't at all necessary," says Mr. Robert. "Bring him in at once." + +"I guess I can spare him," says I. Then I goes back and taps Cousin +Clifford on the shoulder. "Cliffy," says I, "you're subpoened. Push +through two doors and then make yourself right to home." + +Course anyone's liable to have a freak cousin or so knockin' round in +the background, and I s'pose it was a star play of Mr. Robert's, givin' +the glad hand to this one; but if I'd found Clifford hangin' on my +fam'ly tree I'd have felt like gettin' out the prunin' saw. + +Maybe Mr. Robert was a little miffy because I hadn't been a mind reader +and played Clifford for a favorite from the start. Anyway, he jumps +right in to feature him, lugs him off to the club for lunch, and does +the honors joyous, just as though this was something he'd been lookin' +forward to for months. + +I was beginnin' to think I'd made a wrong guess on Clifford, and the +awful thought that maybe for once I'd talked too gay was just tricklin' +through my thatch, when we gets our first bulletin. Cliffy was due back +to the office about four-thirty, havin' gone off by his lonesome after +lunch; but at a quarter of five he don't show up. It was near closin' +time when Mr. Robert gets a 'phone call, and by the worried look I knew +something was up. + +"Yes," says he, "this is Robert Ellins. Yes, I know such a person. +That's right--Clifford. He's my cousin. No, is that so? Why, there must +be some mistake. Oh, there must be! I'll come up and explain. Yes, I'll +sign the bail bond." + +He didn't have a word to say when he turns around and catches me +grinnin'; but grabs his hat and coat and pikes for the green lights. + +There wa'n't any call for me to do any rubberin' next day, or ask any +questions. It was all in the mornin' papers: how a batty gent who looked +like a disguised second story worker had collected a crowd and blocked +traffic on Fifth Avenue by standin' on the curb in front of one of the +Vanderbilt houses and drawin' plans of it on a pad. + +Course, he got run in as a suspect, and I guess Mr. Robert had his +troubles showin' the desk sergeant that Clifford wa'n't a Western crook +who was layin' pipes for a little jimmy work. Cliffy's architect tale +wouldn't have got him off in a month, and if it hadn't been that Mr. +Robert taps the front of his head they'd had Clifford down to +Mulberry-st. and put his thumb print in the collection. + +He was givin' it to 'em straight, though. Architectin' was what Cliffy +was aimin' at. He'd been studying that sort of thing out in Michigan, +and now he was makin' a tour to see how it was done in other places, +meanin' to polish off with a few months abroad. Then, after he'd got +himself well soaked in ideas, maybe he'd go back to Bubble Creek, rent +an office over the bank, and begin drawin' front elevations of iron +foundries and double tenements. + +That's what comes of havin' rich aunts and uncles in the fam'ly, and +duckin' real work while you wait for notice from the Surrogate to come +on and take your share. It wa'n't a case of hustle with Clifford. I +suspicioned that his bein' an architect was more or less of a fad; but +he was makin' the most of it, there was no discountin' that. He'd laid +out a week to put in seein' how New York was built, high spots and low, +and he went at it like he was workin' by the piece. + +Now, say, there ain't no special harm in goin' around town gawpin' at +lib'ries and office buildin's and churches. 'Most anyone could have done +it without bumpin' into trouble; but not Cliffy. It was wonderful how he +dug up ructions--and him the mildest lookin' four-eyed gent ever let +loose. And green! Say, what sort of a flag station is Bubble Creek, +anyway? + +Askin' fool questions was Cliffy's specialty. You see, he'd made out a +list of buildin's he thought he wanted to take a look at; but he hadn't +stopped to put down the street numbers or anything. And when he wants +information does he hunt up a directory or a cop? Oh, no! He holds up +anyone that's handy, from a white wings dodgin' trucks in the middle of +Madison Square, to a Wall Street broker rushin' from 'Change out to a +directors' meetin'. He seems to think anybody he meets knows all about +New York, and has time to take him by the hand and lead him right where +he wants to go, whether it's the new Custom House down town, or Grant's +Tomb up on the drive. Throw downs don't discourage him any, either. Two +minutes after he's been told to go chase himself he'll butt right in +somewhere else and call for directions. + +The worst of it was that he couldn't remember what he was told for +more'n three minutes on a stretch. We found out these little tricks of +Clifford's after he'd been makin' the office his headquarters for a +couple of days. + +First mornin' we started him out early for the Battery, to size up the +Bowling Green Buildin' and the Aquarium. About noon he limps in with his +hat all dirt and ashes up and down his back. From the description he +gives we figure out that he's been somewhere up on Washington Heights +and has got into an argument with a janitor that didn't like being rung +up from the basement and asked how far it was to Whitehall-st. + +Well, we fixes him up, writes out all the partic'lars of his route on a +card, and gives him a fresh send-off. It wa'n't more'n half an hour +afterwards that I was out on an errand, and as I cut through 22d-st. +back of the Flatiron I sees a crowd. Course, I pushes in to find out +what was holdin' up all the carriages and bubbles that has to switch +through there goin' north. Somehow I had a feelin' that it might be +Clifford. And it was! + +He was in the middle of the ring, hoppin' around lively and wavin' that +umbrella of his like a sword. The other party was the pilot of a hansom +cab that had climbed down off his perch and was layin' on with his whip. + +I hated to disturb that muss; for I had an idea Cliffy was gettin' about +what was comin' to him, and the crowd was enjoyin' it to the limit. But +I see a couple of traffic cops comin' over from Broadway; so I breaks +through, grabs Clifford by the arm, and chases him down the avenue, +breathin' some hard but not much hurt. + +"Chee!" says I, "but you're a wonder! Was you tryin' to buy an +eight-mile cab ride for a quarter?" + +"Why, no," says he. "I merely stopped the man to ask him where the +nearest subway station was, and before I knew it he became angry. I'm +sure I didn't know----" + +"That's the trouble with you, Cliffy," says I, "and if you don't get +over it you'll be hurt bad. Where's that card we made out for you?" + +"I--I must have lost that," says he. + +"What you need is a guide and an accident policy," says I. "Better let +me tow you back to the office, and you can talk it over with Mr. +Robert." + +He was willin'. He'd had enough for one day, anyhow. + +By mornin' Mr. Robert has lost some of his joy over Cousin Clifford's +visit. Come to find out, he'd never seen him before, and hadn't heard +much about him, either. "Torchy," says he, "I shall be rather busy +to-day; so I am going to put Cousin Clifford in your care." + +"Ah, say!" says I. "Hand me an easier one. I couldn't keep him straight +less'n I had him on a rope and led him around." + +"Well, do that, then," says he, "anyway you choose. You may take the day +off, show him the buildings he wants to see, keep him out of trouble, +and don't leave him until you have him safe inside my house to-night. +I'll make it right with you." + +"Seein' it's you," says I, "I'll give it a whirl. But if Clifford wants +to travel around town with me he's got to shake the ear pads." + +Mr. Robert says he'll give him his instructions, and all that; but when +it came to springin' the programme on Clifford he runs on a snag. +Somewhere back of them squirrel teeth and under the soft hat there was a +streak of mule. Cliffy balks at the whole business. He's a whole lot +obliged, but he really don't care for comp'ny. Goin' around alone and +not havin' his thoughts sidetracked by some one taggin' along is what he +likes better'n anything else. He's always done it in Bubble Creek and +never got into any trouble before--that is, none to speak of. But he'll +promise to cut out janitors and cab drivers. + +As for the ear muffs, he couldn't think of partin' with them. For years +he's been puttin' them on the first of December and wearin' 'em until +the last of March, and he'd feel lost without 'em, just the same as he +would without the umbrella. Yes, he knew it wa'n't common; but that +didn't bother him at all. + +Right there I gets a new line on Clifford. He's one of these guys that +throws a bluff at bein' modest; but when you scratch him deep you gets +next to the fact that he's dead sure he's a genius and is anxious to +prove it by the way he wears his clothes. There's a lot of that kind +that shows themselves off every night at the fifty-cent table d'hote +places; but I never knew any of 'em ever came in from so far west as +Bubble Creek. + +Mr. Robert wa'n't on, though. He still freezes to the notion that +Cousin Clifford's just a well-meanin', corn-fed innocent; so before he +turns him loose again he gives him a lot of good advice about not +gettin' tangled up with strangers. Cliffy smiles kind of condescendin' +and tells Mr. Robert he needn't worry a bit. + +With that off he goes; but every time the telephone rings that forenoon +me and Mr. Robert gets nervous. We don't hear a word from him, though, +and by three o'clock we're hopin' for the best. + +Then Aunt Julie shows up. She's a large, elegant old girl, all got up in +Persian lamb and a fur hat with seven kinds of sealin' wax fruit on it. +She's just in from Palm Beach, and she's heard that Brother Henry's boy +is here on a visit. + +"He was such a cute little dear when he was a baby!" says she. + +"He's changed," says Mr. Robert. + +"Of course," says Aunt Julie. "I do want to see if he's grown up to look +like Henry, as I said he would, or like his mother. Where is he now, +Robert?" + +"Heaven only knows!" says he. "It would suit me best if he was on his +way back to Michigan." + +"Why, Robert!" says Aunt Julie. "And Clifford the only cousin you have +in the world!" + +"One is quite enough," says he. + +That gives her another jolt, and she starts to lay out Mr. Robert good, +for givin' the frosty paw to a relation that had come so far to see him. +"I shall stay right here," says she, "until that poor, neglected young +man returns, and then I shall try to make up for your heartless +treatment." + +Aunt Julie didn't have a long wait. She hadn't more'n got herself +settled, when the elevator stops at our floor and there breaks loose all +kinds of a riot in the hall. There was a great jabberin' and foot +scufflin', and I could hear Dennis, that juggles the lever, forkin' out +the assault 'n' batt'ry language in a brogue that sounded like rippin' a +sheet. + +"What's up now?" says Mr. Robert, pokin' his head out. + +"Two to one that's Clifford!" says I. + +There wa'n't any time to get a bet down, though; for just then the door +slams open and we gets a view of things. Oh, it was Cliffy, all right! +He was comin' in backwards, tryin' to wave off the gang that was +follerin' him. + +"Go away!" says he, pushin' at the nearest of 'em. "Please go away!" + +"Ah, it's you should be goin' away, ye shark-faced baboon, ye!" says +Dennis, hoppin' up and down in the door of the car. "You an' yer Polack +friends may walk down, or jump out the winder; but divvle a ride do yez +get in this illyvator again. Do ye mind that, now?" + +You couldn't blame him; for the bunch wa'n't fit for the ash hoist. They +were Zinskis, about twenty of 'em, countin' women and kids. You didn't +have to look at the tin trunks and roped bundles to know that they'd +just finished ten days in the steerage. You could tell that by the +bouquet. They didn't carry their perfume with 'em. It went on ahead, and +they follered, backin' Cliffy clear in until he fetched up against the +gate, and then jammin' in around him close. Chee! but they was a punky +lot! They had jack lantern faces and garlic breaths, and they looked to +know about as much as so many cigar store Injuns. + +"Did you have your pick, Cliffy," says I, "or was this a job lot you got +cheap?" + +"Clifford," says Mr. Robert, "what in thunder is the meaning of this +performance of yours?" + +But Clifford just keeps on tryin' to work his elbows clear and looks +dazed. "I don't know," says Cliffy, "truly I don't, Cousin Robert. +They've been following me for an hour, and I've had an awful time." + +"Maybe you've been makin' a noise like a wienerwurst," says I. + +About that time Aunt Julie comes paddin' out. "Did I hear some one say +Clifford?" says she. + +"You did," says Mr. Robert. "There he is, the one with the ear muffs. I +haven't found out who the others are yet." + +"Phe-e-e-ew!" says she, takin' one sniff, and with that she grabs out +her scent bottle and runs back, slammin' the door behind her. + +"Cliffy," says I, "you don't seem to be makin' much of a hit with your +Ellis Island bunch." + +"What I want to know," says Mr. Robert, "is what this is all about!" + +But Clifford didn't have the key. All he knew was that when he started +to leave the subway train they had tagged after, and that since then he +hadn't been able to shake 'em. Once he'd jumped on a Broadway car; but +they'd all piled in too, and the conductor had made him shell out a +nickel for every last one. Another time he'd dodged through one of them +revolvin' doors into a hotel, and four of 'em had got wedged in so tight +it took half a dozen porters to get 'em out; but the house detective had +spotted Clifford for the head of the procession and held him by the +collar until he could chuck him out to join his friends. + +"It was simply awful!" says he, throwin' up his hands. + +And then I notices the rattan cane. After that it was all clear. +"Where'd you cop the stick, Cliffy?" says I. + +"Stick!" says he. "Why, bless me! I must have taken this instead of my +umbrella. It belongs to that gentleman who sat next to me in the subway +train. You see he was leaning back taking a nap in the corner, and I was +trying to talk to him, and when I left I suppose I took his cane by +mistake." + +"Well," says I, "the Zinskis goes with the cane." + +It's a fact, too. Most all them immigrant runners carries rattans when +they're herdin' gangs of imported pick artists around to the railroad +stations. It's kind of a badge and helps the bunch to keep track of +their leader. Most likely them Zinskis had had their eyes glued to that +cane for hours, knowin' that it was leadin' 'em to a job somewheres, and +they wa'n't goin' to let it get away. + +"Gimme it," says I; "I'll show you how it works." + +Sure enough, soon's I took it and started for the door the whole push +quits eatin' cheese and bread out of their pockets and falls in right +after me. + +"Fine!" says Mr. Robert, grabbin' my hat and chuckin' it after me. "Go +on, Torchy! Keep going!" + +"Ah, say!" says I. "I ain't subbin' for Cliffy. This is his gang." + +But Mr. Robert only grins and motions me to be on my way. "If you come +back here before to-morrow morning," says he, "I'll discharge you on +the spot." + +Now wouldn't that bump you? + +"All right," says I: "but this'll cost Cliffy just twenty." + +"I'll pay it," says Mr. Robert. + +"It's a whizz," says I, wavin' the cane. "Come on, you Sneezowskis! I'll +show you where the one fifty per grows on bushes." + +What did I do with 'em? Ah, say, it was a cinch! I runs 'em down seven +flights of stairs, marches 'em three blocks up town, and then rushes up +to a big stiff in a green and gold uniform that's hired to stand outside +a flower shop and open carriage doors. He and me had some words a couple +of months ago, because I butted him in the belt when I was in a hurry +once. + +"Here," says I, rushin' up and jammin' the cane into his hand, "hold +that till I come back!" and before he has time to pipe off the bunch of +Polackers that's come to a parade rest around us, I makes a dive in +amongst the cars and beats it down Broadway. + +Nah, I don't know what becomes of him, or the Zinskis either. All I know +is that I'm twenty to the good, and that Cousin Clifford's been shipped +back to Bubble Creek, glad to get out of New York alive. But, as I says +to Mr. Robert, "What do you look for from a guy that buttons his ears up +in flannel?" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +BACKING OUT OF A FLUFF RIOT + + +They will turn up, won't they? Here I was only yesterday noontime +loafin' through the arcade, when who should I get the hail from but +Hunch Leary, with a bookful of rush messages and his cap down over his +ears. + +Now I ain't sayin' he's the toughest lookin' A. D. T. that ever sat on a +call bench, for maybe I've seen worse; but with his bent-in nose, and +his pop eyes, and that undershot jaw--well, he ain't one you'd send in +to quiet a cryin' baby. Hunch didn't pose for that picture of the sweet +youth on the blue signs outside the district offices. They don't pick +him out for these theater-escort snaps, either. + +Which shows how far you can go on looks, anyway; for, if I was going to +trust my safety-vault key with anyone, it would be Hunch. Not that +they'll ever use him to decorate any stained-glass window; but I never +look for him to land on the rock pile. + +Course, I don't see much of Hunch and the rest these days; but it ain't +a case of dodgin' old friends on my part, so me and him hangs up +against a radiator in the main corridor and talks it over. I wants to +know if Stiff Miller is still manager down at No. 11 branch, and who's +wearin' the red stripe yet; while Hunch he puts over a few polite +quizzes as to how I'm gettin' on with the Corrugated people. + +We hadn't been gassin' but five minutes or so, and there's ten more due +on the clock before lunch hour is over, when I looks up to see our Mr. +Piddie going by and givin' me the frown. I knew what that meant. It's +another call-down. He has plenty of time to work up his case; for I takes +the limit and don't hang up my hat until the life-insurance chimes has +done their one-o'clock stunt. And I'm hardly settled behind the brass +gate before Piddie is down on me with the old mushy-mouthed reproof. + +"One is known," says he, "by the company one keeps." + +"I'm no New Theater manager," says I. "What's the answer?" + +"I observed you loitering in the lower corridor," says he. "That is +all." + +"Oh!" says I. "You seen me conversin' with Mr. Leary, eh?" + +"Mr. Leary!" says Piddie, raisin' his eyebrows. + +"Well, Hunch, then," says I. "Tryin' to get up a grouch because you +wa'n't introduced? Don't take it hard. He's kind of exclusive, Mr. Leary +is." + +Piddie swallows that throat pippin of his two or three times before he +can get a grip on his feelings enough to go on with the lesson of the +day. "I merely wish to remark," says he, "that evil communications +corrupt good manners." + +"How about court Judges, then," says I, "and these slum missionaries'? +G'wan, Piddie! Back to the copybook with your mottoes! I'm a mixer, I +am! Would I be chinnin' here with you if I wa'n't?" + +He sighs, Piddie does, and struts away to freeze the soul of some new +lady typist by looking over her shoulder. As an act of charity, they +ought to let Piddie fire me about once a month. He'll die of grief if he +don't get the chance sometime. + +And blamed if he don't come near gettin' his heart's desire before the +day was over! + +It all begins about three o'clock, when Piddie comes turkeyin' out of +the telephone booth all swelled up with importance and signals me to +come on the carpet. + +"Torchy," says he, "I presume you know where the Metropolitan Building +is?" + +"They ain't moved it since lunchtime, have they?" says I. + +"That will do!" says he. "Now listen very carefully." + +You'd thought from his preamble that I was going to be sent up to +regulate the clock, or see if the tower was still plumb; but all it +simmers down to is that I'm to take a leather document case, hunt up Mr. +Ellins, who's attendin' a directors' meetin' over there, and deliver +some papers that he's forgot to have his private secretary lug along. + +"And kindly refrain," he tacks on at the last, "from stopping to talk +with any suspicious characters on the way." + +"Say, Piddie," says I, "if I was you I'd have that printed on a card. +Some day you're going to forget to rub that in." + +Well, I hustles across the square, locates Old Hickory, and delivers the +goods without droppin' 'em down a manhole or doin' any of the other +awful things that Piddie would have warned me against if he'd had more +time. I tucks the empty case under my arm and was for makin' a record +trip back, just to surprise Piddie; but while I'm waitin' for that +flossy lever juggler on the express elevator to answer my red-light +signal I hears this riot break loose on the floor below. + +And say, I wa'n't missin' any lively disturbance like that; for it +listens like a mob scene from one of them French guillotine plays. +Mostly it's female voices that floats up, and they was all tuned to the +saw-filin' pitch. A pasty-faced young gent wearin' a green eye-shade and +an office coat comes beatin' it up the marble steps, and I fires a +question at him on the fly. + +"Is it a gen'ral rough-house number," says I, "or have the suffragettes +broke loose again?" + +"You're welcome to find out for yourself," he pants, dashin' up another +flight. + +"Thanks for the invite," says I. "Guess I will." + +And, say, talk about your mass plays around a shirtwaist bargain +counter! Why, the corridor was full of 'em, all tryin' to rush the door +of 1,323 at once. For a guess I should say that half the manicure +artists, lady demonstrators, and cloak models between 14th and 34th was +on the spot. Oh, they was a swell bunch, with more fur turbans and Marie +Antoinette ringlets on view than you could see collected anywhere +outside of Murray's! + +They was sayin' things, too! I couldn't catch anything but odd words +here and there; but the gen'ral drift of their remarks seems to be that +someone has welshed on 'em. First off I thought it must be one of these +skirt bucket-shops that has been closed out by the renting agent; but +then I gets a look at the sign on the door and sees that it's the +Peruvian Investment Company, which sounds like one of them common twenty +per cent. a month games. + +And it's a case of lockout, with the lady customers ragin' on the +outside, and nobody knows what's takin' place behind the ground glass. +That wa'n't excitin' enough to lure me from a steady job for long, +though, unless some one was goin' to do more'n look desp'rate and talk +spiteful. + +"Ah, why not smash something?" I sings out. "Didn't any lady think to +bring a brick in her vanity bag?" + +A couple turns around and glares at me; but it encourages one to begin +hammerin' on the glass with her near-gold purse, and just as I'm about +to leave this turns the trick. The door swings open all of a sudden, and +there stands a tall, well-built gent, with a green felt hat pushed back +on his head, a five-inch cigar juttin' out of one corner of his mouth, +and his thumbs stuck in the pockets of a sporty striped vest. On account +of the curly brown Vandyke, he's kind of a foreign-lookin' party; but +someway them smilin', wide-open eyes of his has a sort of familiar look. + +For a high pressure storm center he seems mighty placid. As he throws +open the door he steps back into the middle of the room, rests one elbow +against the rail of a wired-in cashier's coop, and removes the cheroot +so he can spring a comfortin' smile on the crowd. It's a brainy play. +The rush line stops like it has gone up against a bridge pier, and then +spreads out in a half-circle. + +"Well, ladies," says he, "what can we do for you to-day?" + +Do I know who it is then? Well, do I! Maybe it has been months since +I've heard the voice, and maybe he does wear a set of face herbage that +I'd never seen before; but I ain't one to forget the only real A-1 +classy boss I ever had; not that soon, anyway. It's Mr. Belmont Pepper, +as sure as I've got a Titian thatch on my skull! + +Do I linger? That's what! Why, I've been waitin' for him to show up +again like a hired girl waits for Thursday afternoon. It's Mr. Pepper, +all right; but it looks like he's been let in bad, for after one or two +gasps in chorus that bunch of lady grouches gets their second wind and +closes in on him with a whoop. + +"Where's my dividends? I want to draw out my money! Say, you give me +back my eighteen dollars, or I'll----You'll try your bunko game on me, +will you? Hey! I've been waiting since noon to catch you, you----" + +My! but they did have their hammers out! They called him everything that +a lady could, and a few names that wa'n't so ladylike as they might +have been. They shook things at him, and promised to do him all sorts of +damage, from bringin' lawsuits to scratchin' his eyes out. + +Mr. Pepper, though, he goes on smokin' and smilin', now and then +throwin' in a shoulder shrug just to hint that there wa'n't any use in +his tryin' to get in a word until they was all through. He almost acts +like he enjoyed being mobbed; but of course he knew better'n to choke +off a lot of women before they'd had their say out. He just let 'em jaw +along and get it out of their systems. Fin'lly he raises his hand, takes +off the green lid, and bows graceful. + +"Ladies," says he, "I fully sympathize with your impatience--fully." + +"You look it, I don't think!" sings out a big blonde, shakin' her willow +plumes energetic. + +Mr. Pepper throws her a smile and spiels ahead. "You will be pleased to +hear, however," says he, "that the board of directors, on the strength +of cabled advices from our general manager in Peru, has just voted an +extra dividend of ten per cent." + +"When do we get it? Show us some money!" howls the kickers. + +"I have been requested to announce," goes on Mr. Pepper, "that payments +from this office will be resumed promptly at noon--on the first day of +next month." + +Does that satisfy 'em? Not so you'd notice it. A bigger squawk than ever +goes up, and the jam around Mr. Pepper begins to look like rush hour at +the Hudson Terminal. They starts clawin' at his elbows, and grabbin' his +coat, and when I notices one wild-eyed brunette reachin' for a hatpin I +knew it was a case of me to the rescue or sendin' in an ambulance call. + +Not that I had any notion what ought to be done in a case like this. I +couldn't throw him a rope or shove out a plank; I ain't any expert woman +trainer, either; but can I stand there with my mouth open and see an old +friend get the hooks thrown into him by a class in hysterics? Not when +the hookee happens to be one that once set me up as a stockholder in a +gold mine. So I lets flicker with the first fool idea that comes into my +head. + +"Gangway!" I shouts out, wedgin' my way in among 'em and usin' my +elbows. "Gangway for the bank messenger! Ah, don't shove, girls; he +ain't the only man left in New York. One side for the real money +bringer! One side now!" And by holdin' the leather case high up where +they could all see it, and hittin' the line like Coy does when it's +three downs with ten yards to go, I manages to get through without +losin' many coat buttons. + +"Here you are, sir," says I, shovin' the case out to Mr. Pepper and +givin' him the knowin' look. "City National. Cashier wants a receipt." + +Does he need a diagram and a card of instructions? Trust Belmont Pepper! +"Ah, this way," says he. "Pardon me a moment, ladies, only a moment. +This way, young man." And almost before they know what has happened him +and me are behind the partition with the gate locked. + +"Let's see," says he, lookin' me over kind of puzzled, +"it's--er--Torchy, isn't it?" + +"There's the proof," says I, liftin' the cover off my danger signal. + +"I might have known," says he, "that no one else could have put up so +good a bluff on the spur of the----" + +"Now that's all right, Mr. Pepper," says I; "but the bluff won't hold +'em long. What you want to do is get busy and make a noise like +hundred-dollar bills. I don't know what the trouble is; but it looks +like the genuine goods to me." + +"Diagnosis correct," says he. "I'm boxed. Now if they were only men, I +could----" + +"Oh, sure!" says I. "But a bunch of nutty fluffs is diff'rent. They +never know what they want or why they want it. Say, ain't you got +another exit?" + +Mr. Pepper shakes his head. "No, son," says he; "but don't you worry +about me. Your strategy thus far has been excellent; but I don't want +you to get mixed up in this mess. Skip, Torchy, while the skipping is +easy." + +"Mr. Pepper," says I, "do I look like a quitter? I ain't forgot what you +did about givin' me them Glory Be stocks, either, and I'm goin' to hang +around here until this little private cyclone of yours blows over." + +Mr. Pepper he looks at me a minute in that calm way of his, and then he +shrugs his shoulders. "All right," says he. + +Then we listens to the buzz outside. Some was explainin' to others how a +bushel of money had just come in from the City National Bank, and some +was insistin' that it was just a north-pole fake. It's a free-for-all +debate with all rules in the discard. Then we hears one voice that's +louder than the others calling out for a committee. + +"We must organize!" she says. "Let's organize for action!" + +"Ah!" observes Mr. Pepper. "Now for feminine tactics! That looks +better." + +A couple of minutes more and they've concluded to adjourn to the +corridor. When they're all out and I can hear 'em down at the further +end, I gives him the tip. + +"Now's your chance!" says I. "Up one flight and you can get an express +elevator. I'll show you." + +Mr. Pepper don't like the idea, though, of doin' the gumshoe sneak. He +hates to run away from any kind of a fight, specially a lot of women. He +don't run, either; but after awhile he consents to walk out, and we +strolls towards the steps dignified and easy. + +It looked like a clean get-away for a minute, too; but I hadn't counted +on their leavin' a picket to watch the elevator. She sees us and gives +the alarm; so by the time we're up to the next floor the whole mob is +after us, lettin' out the war cries as if it was a case of kidnappin'. + +They struck the upper corridor just as I've got my finger on the button, +and in the front ranks they're pushin' along the gray uniformed special +cop that they've rung up from the first floor. Also who should step out +into the midst of the riot but Old Hickory Ellins, just leavin' the +directors' meeting. He goes purple-faced and bug-eyed, but before I can +dodge out of sight of course he spots me. And that's the very minute +when a couple of lady avengers points me and Mr. Pepper out to the cop +and the pinch business is about to begin. + +"Why, what's all the row about, Torchy?" says he. "And who is that with +you?" He gets answers from the anvil chorus. + +"That's the swindler!" they shouts. "That's Prentice Owens! He's the one +that took our money, and the boy is one of the gang! Nab 'em, Mr. +Officer, please nab 'em!" + +"G'wan, you're a lot of flossy kikes!" I throws back at 'em. + +"Torchy," says Mr. Ellins, "have you been up to any swindling game?" + +"Honest, I ain't, Mr. Ellins," says I. + +"I am inclined to believe that," says he; "but what about the other +person? Is he a friend of yours?" + +"Sure," says I. "And he's on the level too." + +"He's Prentice Owens, is he?" says he. + +"Nah," says I. "He's Mr. Belmont Pepper, he is, president of the Glory +Be Mining Company. Why, I used to work for him! That aggregation of +female dopes is full of prunes. Mr. Pepper's no crook." + +"Hum!" says Old Hickory, rubbin' his chin. "A case of mistaken identity, +eh? Officer, you know me, I suppose?" + +"Yes, Mr. Ellins," says the special, jerkin' off his cap, "oh, yes, +sir." + +"Then drive these deluded women downstairs and tell them their mistake," +says Old Hickory. "Come, Mr. Pepper. Come, Torchy. In with you!" + +And inside of two shakes we're shootin' down a one hundred and fifty +foot shaft with no stops until the ground floor. Not until we gets +outside and Mr. Ellins jumps into his cab does Mr. Pepper say a word. + +"Torchy," says he, "you're the real thing in the friendship line. I will +admit that appearances are somewhat against me, but----" + +"Ah, say!" I breaks in. "Don't I know you, Mr. Pepper? Do I have to see +any books to know that you're playin' a straight game? It was a matter +of needin' a little time, wa'n't it, and bein' rushed off your feet when +you didn't expect the move? I could guess that much from the start. All +I want to ask is, how's the mine gettin' on, the Glory Be, you know?" + +He looks at his feet for a second or so and kind of flushes. Then he +straightens up, looks me level between the eyes, and reaches out a hand +to give me the brotherhood grip. + +"Torchy," says he, "there is a mine, and the last I heard it was still +there. Anyway, I'm dropping the investment business right here, and I'm +going out to see what our property looks like. I'll let you know." With +that he whirls and dashes off across the avenue. + +"How is it," says Piddie when I gets back, "that it takes you an hour +and a quarter to go four blocks?" + +"Hookworms, Piddie," says I, "hookworms. I had a sudden attack." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +RUNG IN WITH THE GOLD SPOONERS + + +On the level now, what's a he Cinderella? And if your boss called you a +name like that, would you resign, or throw out your chest and strike for +a raise? But, then, maybe it was only some of Mr. Robert's fancy +joshin'. Anyway, I'd stand in line waitin' for a thing like that to +happen again. + +The way it begun was when I runs across this new girl in the filin' room +and finds her snifflin' over one of the index cases. She's bitin' her +lips to keep from doing it and she's red way up behind her ears; so I +knows she's more mad than sorry. I could guess what's happened; for I'd +just seen Piddie come out of there looking satisfied and important. + +"Hello, sis!" says I. "Weepin' over your job so soon?" + +"Shut up!" says she. + +"Why, how pettish!" says I. "What was Piddie callin' you down for?" + +"What's that to you?" says she. "Who are you, anyway?" + +"Me?" says I. "Why, I'm the Corrugated's gen'ral grouch dispeller. I'm +the official little ray of sunshine. See?" and I bobs my head so she can +get a good view of my red thatch. + +"Huh!" says she; but she can't help lettin' out a grin, so I sees the +cure has begun. + +"Don't you mind Piddie," says I. "He don't dare tie the can to you +without reportin' higher up. He likes to make a noise like a watchdog, +that's all. Next time you give him the merry chuckle." + +And, honest, I'd done the same if she'd been wall-eyed and +toggle-jointed, just for the sake of blockin' off his little game. + +It wa'n't until a couple of days later, when she shoots over a casual +flashlight look as I'm strollin' past, that I takes any partic'lar +notice of what a Daisy Maizie she is. There's more or less class to her +lines, all right, not to mention a pair of rollin' brown eyes. Course, I +sends back the roguish wink, and by the end of the week we was callin' +each other by our pet names. + +Not that I'm entered reg'lar as a Percy boy, or that I takes this so +serious as to miss any meals; but you know how it is. And what if she +was a few years older? She seems to like it when I sing out, "Oh, you +Theresa!" at her, and once she mussed up my hair when there wa'n't +anybody lookin'. In fact, I was almost to the point of thinkin' that I'd +been picked as somebody's honey boy when this Izzy Budheimer shows up as +a late entry. + +Izzy, he's a third assistant in the stock department, and on twelve a +week he sports one of those striped green overcoats and a plush hat with +the bow behind. Maybe he wouldn't be listed as a home destroyer; but he +has a flossy way with him and he goes around a lot. About the second +week I sees him and the new girl gettin' chummier and chummier, and, +while she still has a jolly for me now and then, I knows I'm only a side +issue. That's what hurt most. So what fool play must I make but go and +plunge on a sixty-cent box of mixed choc'lates for her! + +As luck would have it, Mr. Robert spots me comin' out of the 23d-st. +candy shop with the package under my arm. You wouldn't think he'd notice +a little clew like that, or pick me up on it; but he does. + +"How now, Torchy?" says he. "Sweets to the sweet, eh?" + +"Uh-huh," says I, and I guess I colors up some. + +"What is the fair one's name?" says he. + +"Tessie," says I. + +"Ah!" says he. "Thus were they ever named: Tessie, Juliet, and Helen of +Troy. They're all one. My envious sympathy, Torchy, and may the gods be +kind!" + +Which is only the brand of hot air Mr. Robert blows off whenever he has +a good lunch under his vest and nothin' heavy on his mind. It don't mean +anything at all. + +"Troy!" says I. "Can it! This ain't for no up-State laundry hand. She +comes from Eighth-ave." + +Well, I stows the box away until closin' time, and then waits around the +upper corridor for Tessie to show up. Izzy, he spots me and proceeds to +improve the time by givin' me an earache about what an important party +he is, how he expects to be jumped a notch soon, and about how much he +makes nights on the outside, followin' up some checkroom snap or other. + +"That's fine!" says I. "But won't you be late gettin' over to +Grand-st.?" + +Izzy was still explainin' how long it was since his folks moved to the +West Side, and what swell things they had in the parlor, when Tessie +floats out with her new spring lid and princess walkin' suit on. I'm +just shovin' out the peace offerin' and gettin' ready to hand over my +smoothest josh, when she brushes past like I was part of the wall +decoration, squeals, "Oh, Mr. Budheimer!" and begins showin' Izzy some +tickets for the grand annual benefit ball of the Shirtwaist Makers' +Union, and tellin' him how she was sellin' 'em for her sister, and what +a grand time it was goin' to be. + +"How much?" says Izzy, tryin' hard to choke it back, but losin' the +struggle. + +"Seventy-five for a double ticket," says Tessie. "That's the kind you +want." + +"Maybe I would yet, if I could get a partner," says he. + +"Ain't that an awful sad case?" says Tessie. "Nobody's teased me very +hard, either." + +"You'll go with me, yes?" says Izzy. + +"It's awful sudden," says she; "but a chance is a chance. Don't send a +cab; the folks in the block might think I was putting on." + +And me? Why, I don't show on the chart at all! Right under my nose she +does it, and don't even give me a sideways glance. + +"Pooh!" says I. "Pooh, pooh!" + +"What a cute little fellah!" says Tessie to him as they crowds into the +elevator with the rest of the push. + +"Say," says I, making a jump for the grating, "you don't need to----" + +"Next car!" sings out the Johnny Flip, slammin' the door. Now wa'n't +that rubbin' it in? + +"Coises!" says I. "Deep coises!" and walks down eleven flights with a +temperature that would have got me condemned by any boiler inspector in +the business. The candy? That goes to one of the pie-faced maids where I +lives. + +The nerve of that Izzy, though! In the mornin' he comes around just like +nothin' had happened and wants to know if I'll sub. for him on his +evenin' job the night he goes to the ball. To show I don't carry any +grouch, I says I will; but he offers only half-pay and makes me agree to +split the tips with him. + +"I couldn't afford it, at that," says he, "only this is a kid session +and the graft will be light." + +It's this checkroom work of his, you know, at one of them swell +Fifth-ave. joints where they have an extra night force on call for +coming-out parties and dinner dances and the like. So, while him and +Tessie is enjoyin' themselves with the lady shirtwaist makers, I'm +standin' behind the counter wearin' a braided jacket, givin' out check +coupons, and stowin' away hats and top-coats for Master Reginald and +other buddin' sports of the younger set. Seems this is the final blowout +of Miss Somebody's afternoon dancin' class, and no one was allowed +inside unless Father had his name printed in bright red ink in the +social register. + +A hot lot of young gold spooners they was too; some of 'em not as old as +me by a couple of years, and swellin' around in dinky Tuxes and white +kids. One of 'em even hands me in a silver-headed cane. + +"Careful of that stick, my man," says he. + +"Oh, sure!" says I. "Puppah'd be wild if anything happened to it, +wouldn't he?" + +And you should have heard the talk they had as they loafs around the +cloakroom between the numbers,--all about the awful things they did at +prep school, how they bunked the masters, and smuggled brandied peaches +up to their rooms, and rough-housed durin' mornin' prayers. Almost made +your blood run cold--not. + +When they got to discussin' the girls, though, and sayin' how such a one +was a "jolly sort," and others was "bloomin' rotters," it made me +seasick and it was a relief when they took to whisperin' things I +couldn't hear about the chaperons. After intermission they come sneakin' +in by twos and threes to hit up their cigarettes. + +It was about eleven-thirty and there was four or five of 'em in the +cloakroom, puffin' away languid like real clubmen, when in drifts a +young lady all in pink silk and gold net and hails one of the wicked +bunch. + +"Bobby," says she, "you ought to be ashamed of yourself!" + +"Run on now, Vee," says he. "Told you when I asked you to come that I +wasn't a dancing man, y'know." + +"Fudge!" says she, stampin' her foot. "You think it's smart to take that +pose, don't you? Well, you wait!" + +And, say, you talk about your haughty beauts! Why, she was a little the +silkiest young queen I ever had a real close view of,--the slimmest feet +and ankles, reg'lar cameo-cut face all tinted up natural like a bunch of +sweet peas, and a lot of straw-colored hair as fine as cobwebs. She was +a thoroughbred stunner, this Miss Vee was, and mad all over. + +"I haven't been on the floor for four numbers," she goes on. "You just +wait!" + +"You wouldn't be cad enough to peach on us for smokin', would you?" says +Bobby. + +"Wouldn't I, though!" says she. + +That starts a stampede. All but Bobby chucks away their cigarettes and +beats it back to the ballroom. He turns sulky, though. + +"Tell ahead," says he. "Who cares? And let's see you get any more +dances!" + +He's a pasty-faced, weak-jawed youth with a chronic scowl and a sullen +look in his eyes. I should say he was sixteen maybe, and the young lady +a year older. She grips her fan hard and stands there starin' at him. +I'm so much int'rested in the case that the first thing I know I've +butted in with advice. + +"Ah, be nice, Claude!" says I. "Dance with the young lady. I would if I +was you." + +And you can't guess how fussy a little remark like that gets Bobby boy. +He almost swallows his cigarette from the jar he gets, being spoken to +by a common cloakroom checker. First off he jumps up and stalks over to +me real majestic and threatenin'. + +"You--you----How dare you?" he splutters out. + +"There, there!" says I. "Don't get bristle-spined over it. I wa'n't +offerin' any deadly insult, and if it makes you feel as bad as all that +I'll take it back." + +"I--I'll have you dismissed!" he growls. + +"Can't do it, Bobby," says I. "I'm no reg'lar tip-chaser. I'm here +incog.--doing it for a lark, y'know. Back to your corner, now! There's a +lady present." + +He glares at me for a minute or so, and then turns on the queen in pink. +"I hope you're satisfied, Vee," says he. "You would come in here, +though! I can't help it if the attendants are insolent to you." + +"Pooh!" says Miss Vee. "The young man was only taking my part." + +"So?" sneers Bobbie. "I congratulate you on your new champion." + +"He acts more like a gentleman than you do, at any rate!" she fires back +at him. + +"Does he?" says Bobby. "Then why don't you get him for a partner?" + +[Illustration: "G'WAN!" SAYS I, "IT'S A FAIR SWAP."] + +"If you don't ask me for this next waltz, I will," says she, tossin' up +her chin. + +"What a bluff!" says Bobby. "Well, Miss Vee, I'm not going to ask you. +Now!" + +Say, it was gettin' more or less personal by that time, and I was +wonderin' just how the young lady was goin' to back out of the +proposition that had been put up to her, when the first thing I know +she's marchin' straight over to where I was. + +"Will you give me this next waltz?" says she. + +"Say," I gasps, "do you mean it?" + +"Certainly I do," says she. "You can dance, can't you?" + +"I don't know," says I; "but I can do an East Side spiel." + +"Good!" says she. "I know how to do that too. Come on." + +"In a minute," says I. "Just hold on until I borrow the young +gentleman's evenin' coat." + +"Wha--what's that?" snorts Bobby. + +"You can be usin' mine for a smokin' jacket," says I. "Peel it off now, +and let the fancy vest come along too!" + +"I--I won't do it!" says Bobbie. + +"Oh, yes, you will," says I, "or else you and me will be mixed up in a +rumpus that'll bring the chaperons and special cops in here on the +run," and with that I proceeds to shed the braided coat and my black +vest. + +"You're insulting!" says Bobby, gettin' wild-eyed. + +"G'wan!" says I. "It's a fair swap. I'll leave it to the young lady." + +And when I'd sized her up for a thoroughbred I hadn't made any wild +guess. There's a twinkle under them long eyelashes that's as good as a +go-ahead signal. + +"Of course," says she. "It was you who suggested him as a partner, +anyway. And hurry, Bobby, there goes the waltz!" + +"I--I----" he begins. + +"Ah, shuck 'em!" says I, startin' for him hasty. + +I expects it was the prospects of gettin' rung into a rough and tumble, +and having to explain to mother, that changed Bobby's mind so sudden. At +any rate, inside of a minute more I'm wearin' the pearl-gray waistcoat +and the silk-faced tuxedo, and out I sails onto the shiny floor of the +green and gold ballroom with somebody's pink-costumed heiress hangin' to +my left arm. + +"One-two-three; one-two-three----Now!" says she, countin' out the time +so I shouldn't make any false start. + +But, say, I didn't need that. Course, I'm no cotillion leader, and about +all the dancin' I ever done was at chowder parties or in the Coney +Island halls; but who couldn't keep step to a tune like "Yip-I-Addy" +played by a twelve-piece goulash orchestra, specially with such a +crackerjack partner as Miss Vee was? + +Could we spiel together? Why, say, we just floats along over the waxed +maple boards like a pair of summer butterflies, pivotin' first one way +and then the other, dodgin' in and out among the couples, and givin' an +exhibition that had any other performance on the floor lookin' like a +cripples' parade. + +First it got into my heels, and then it goes to my head. I didn't know +whether I was waltzin', or havin' a joy ride with some biplane shuffer. +I wa'n't sayin' a word in the way of language; but Miss Vee keeps up a +string of chatter and giggles that's enough for both. You'd thought to +see us, I expect, that we was carryin' on a real, rapid-fire, smart-set +dialogue, when all the while it was only her tellin' me how the +diff'rent parties was actin' when they first spotted her on the floor +with a ringer, and how the chaperons were squintin' at us through their +lorgnettes, tryin' to make out who I was. And the greatest shock I ever +had was when the music stopped and I fell about a mile down through rosy +clouds. + +"Wait!" says Miss Vee, squeezin' my arm. "There'll be an encore. My +aunt's over there, and she's just wild; but it doesn't matter." + +"You're a good sport," says I, joinin' in the hand-clappin' to jog the +orchestra into givin' us a repeat. + +And just as they starts up the tune again I happens to glance up into +the little visitors' balcony at the end of the ballroom. Who do you +guess I sees watchin' us bug-eyed and open-mouthed? Why, Izzy Budheimer +and Miss Tessie! See? They've broke away from the lady shirtwaisters +durin' the supper hour so Izzy can give his new girl a glimpse of what a +real swell dance is like. Maybe he planned on stoppin' in at the +cloakroom too, and seein' if I was holdin' down the job proper. + +Anyway, I can't blame him for doin' the open-face act when he discovers +me out on the floor with the belle of the ball. But all I has time to do +is send him up the chilly stare, and away we go again into another +one-two-three dream--me and Miss Vee. + +"I don't care what becomes of me," she hums over my shoulder. + +"Me either," says I. + +"Silly boy!" says she. "What's your name?" + +"Just Torchy," says I, "after my hair." + +"I think curly red hair is cute," says she. + +"I could go hoarse sayin' things like that about you," says I. + +Maybe it was lucky, too, that this second installment was short, or I +might have gone clean mushy; for the way she could look at me out of +them big gray eyes of hers was--well, it was the real thing in thrills. +The wind-up came just as we gets around near the cloakroom door and we +stops. + +"It was awfully good of you," says she. + +"Gee!" says I. "Why, I could wear out all my old shoes doin' that, and +if ever you need----" + +"S-s-sh!" says she. "Here comes my aunt!" + +Not waitin' for any further diagram of the situation, I makes a dash +into the cloakroom, where I finds Izzy Budheimer gazin' puzzled at +Bobby, who's sittin' tilted back in his shirt sleeves with the braided +coat slung on the floor. + +"Look here, Torchy!" begins Izzy. "What the----" + +"On the job, Izzy, if you want to save it!" says I, wigglin' out of +Master Bobby's expensive clothes and chuckin' 'em at him. + +"But why--what----" says Izzy, tryin' again. + +"Don't stop to ask fool questions of a busy society man," says I; "but +jump into your uniform, get in your coop there, and prepare to put the +timelock on your conversation works. In about a minute there'll be a +delegation of old hens in here lookin' for a mysterious young gent with +incendiary hair who has disappeared. Your cue is to look innocent and +not know anything about it. See? If there's any explainin' to be done, +let Bobby do it." + +"Oh, I say!" groans Bobby, jumpin' up, and by the time I've struck the +bottom stair on my way out he's grabbed his overcoat and is beatin' it +down to find his carriage. + +How Miss Vee squared it with Aunty is a puzzle I never expect to find +out the answer to; but I'll risk her. She's a pink queen, she is, and +after that one waltz with her I can look cold-eyed at a row of Tessie +girls stretchin' from here to the Battery! + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +LANDING ON A SIDE STREET + + +It was a little matter between me and Mother Sykes that starts me off to +hunt a new boardin' place. Lovely old girl, Mother Sykes is, one of the +kind that calls everybody "Deary" and collects in advance every Saturday +night. She's got one of them inquisitive landlady noses that looks like +it was made for pryin' up trunk covers and pokin' into bureau drawers. + +That don't bother me any, though. It's only when I misses my swell +outfit, the one Benny had built for me to wear at his weddin', that I +gets sore. Course, she'd only borrowed it for Pa Sykes to wear on a +Sunday afternoon call, him bein' a little runt of a gent, with watery +eyes and a red nose, that never does anything on his own hook. And if he +hadn't denied it so brassy I shouldn't have called him down so hard, +right in the front hall with half the roomers listenin'. + +"Dreamed it, eh, did I?" says I. "Well, listen here, Sykesy! Next time I +has an optical illusion of you paradin' out in any of my uniform, +there'll be doin's before the Sergeant!" + +Then Mother Sykes rushes up from the kitchen and saves the fam'ly honor +by throwin' an indignation fit. I don't know how long it lasted; but she +was gettin' purple clear up under her false front when I slid out the +door and left her at it. Next day I noticed the sign hung up; but I +didn't know which sky parlor was vacant until I strolls in at +five-fifteen Friday night and finds my things out in the hall and a new +lodger in my room. + +"Oh, well," says I, "what's a sudden move now and then to a free lance +like me?" + +And as there ain't anybody in sight to register my fond farewells with, +I gathers up my suitcase and laundry bag, chucks the latchkey on the +stand in the front hall, and beats it. Not until I'm three blocks away +does I remember that all the cash I've got in my clothes is three +quarters and a dime, which comes of my listenin' to Mallory's advice +about soakin' my roll away in a bloomin' savings bank. + +"Looks like I'd spend the night in a Mills hotel," says I, "unless I +find Mallory and make a touch." + +It was chasin' him up that fetches me over on the West Side and through +one of them nice, respectable, private-house blocks just below 14th-st. +You know the kind, that begin at Fifth-ave. with a double-breasted old +brownstone, and end at Sixth with a delicatessen shop. + +Well, I was moseyin' along quiet and peaceful, wonderin' how long since +anything ever really happened in that partic'lar section, when all of a +sudden I feels about a cupful of cold water strike me in the back of the +neck. + +"Wow!" says I. "Who's playin' me for a goat now?" + +With that I turns and inspects the windows of the house I'd just passed, +knowin' it must be some kid gettin' gay with the passersby. There's no +signs of any cut-up concealed behind the lace curtains, though, and none +of the sashes was raised. If it hadn't been for the way things had been +comin' criss-cross at me, I suppose I'd wiped off my collar and gone +along, lettin' it pass as a joke; but I wa'n't feelin' very mirthful +just then. I'm ready to follow up anything in the trouble line; so I +steps into the area, drops my baggage, shins up over the side of the +front steps, and flattens myself against the off side of the vestibule +door. Then I waits. + +It ain't more'n a minute before I hears the door openin' cautious, and +all I has to do is shove my foot out and throw my weight against the +knob. Somebody lets out a howl of surprise, and in another minute I'm +inside, facin' a twelve-year-old kid armed with a green tin squirt gun. +He's one of these aristocratic-lookin' youngsters, with silky light +hair, big dark eyes, and a sulky mouth. Also he's had somethin' of a +scare thrown into him by being caught so unexpected; but some of his +nerve is still left. + +"You--you get out of here!" he snarls. + +"Not until you've had a dose of what you handed me, sonny," says I. +"Give it up now, Reggie boy!" + +"I won't!" says he. "I--I'll have you thrown out!" + +"You will, eh?" says I, makin' a rush for him. + +"O-o-o-oh, Aunty, Aunty!" he squeals, dashin' down the hall. + +Now, say, the way I was feelin' then, I'd have gone up against a whole +fam'ly, big brothers included; so a little thing like a call for Aunty +don't stop me at all. As he turns into the room on the left I'm only a +jump behind, and all that fetches me up is when he does a dive behind an +old lady in a big leather chair. She's a wide, heavy old party, with a +dinky white cap on her white hair, and kind of a resigned, patient look +on her face. Someway, she acts like she was more or less used to +surprises like this; for she don't seem much excited. + +"Why, Hadley!" she remarks. "Whatever is the matter now?" + +"He--he chased me into the house!" whines Master Hadley from behind the +chair. + +"Did you?" says the old girl. + +"Sure," says I. "He's too blamed fresh!" + +"There, there!" says she. "You mustn't speak that way of Hadley. He is +only a little boy, you know." + +"Yes'm," says I. + +"And he was only indulging in innocent play," she goes on. "Come, +Hadley, untie me now. Please, Hadley!" + +Say, I hadn't noticed it before, but the old girl is roped solid, feet +and arms, to the chair legs, and it's clear that when nobody was goin' +by for little Hadley to shoot at he'd been usin' Aunty for a target. The +damp spots on the wall behind the chair and one or two on her dress +showed that. + +"I won't, unless you'll call Maggie and have her throw him out!" growls +Hadley. + +"Oh, come, Hadley, be a good boy!" coaxes Aunty. + +"Sha'n't!" says Hadley. "And next time I'll shoot ink at you." + +"Now, Hadley!" protests Aunty. + +"Excuse me, lady," says I, "but it looks to me like there was something +comin' to Hadley that I ought to tend to. This ain't on my account, +either, but yours. Now watch. Hi, freshy!" and I makes another dash for +him. + +Well, he knows the lay of the land better'n I do, and he's quick on the +dodge, so we has a lively time of it for a couple of minutes, him +throwin' chairs in my way and hurdlin' sofas, Aunty beggin' us to quit +and callin' for Maggie, and me keepin' right on the job. But at last I +got him cornered. He makes a desp'rate duck and tries to butt me; but I +catches his head under my arm and down he goes on the rug. I'd just +yanked the squirt gun out of his hand and was emptyin' it down the back +of his neck, with him hollerin' blue murder, and Aunty strugglin' to get +loose, when the front door opens and in walks a couple of ladies, one +old and the other young. + +And, say, you talk about your excitin' tableaux! In about two shakes +there's all kinds of excitement; for it seems one of the new arrivals is +Hadley's mommer, and she proceeds to join the riot. + +"Oh, my darling boy! My darling!" she sings out. "What is happening! He +is being killed! Oh, he is being killed!" + +"G'wan!" says I, gettin' up and exhibitin' the squirt gun. "I was only +handin' him some of the same sport he's been dealin' out to others. +It'll do him good." + +"You--you young scoundrel!" says mommer. Then, turnin' to the old lady +who came in with her, she gasps out, "Zenobia, telephone for the +police!" + +It's the real thing, too, and no flossy bluff about the lady's grouch. +She's a swell, haughty-lookin' party, and she acts like she was used to +havin' her own way about things. So the prospects begin to look squally. +Not that I'm one to curl up and shiver at sight of a cop. Give me plenty +of room to do the hotfoot act, and I don't mind guyin' any of them +pavement-pounders; but with me shut up in a house where I hadn't been +invited in, and a bunch of excited females as witnesses against me, it's +a diff'rent proposition. This was no time to weaken, though. + +"Go ahead," says I. "Double six-O-four-two Gramercy; that's the green +light number for this district. And Uncle Patrick'll be glad to see you. +Tell him you got charges to make on his nephew. That'll tickle him to +death. Maybe I'll have something to say when we all get there, too." + +"What do you mean?" says Hadley's mother. + +"Counter complaint, that's all," says I. "Your little darling soaked me +first." + +"It--it isn't true!" says she. "I don't believe it!" + +And here Zenobia comes in with the soothin' advice. She's another +whitehaired old lady, lookin' something like the one in the chair, only +not so bulky and with more ginger about her. "Now, Sally," says she, +"let's not talk of calling in the police over a trifle. Hadley doesn't +appear to be hurt, and possibly he was somewhat at fault." + +"The idea!" says Sally. "Why, I saw this young ruffian pommeling him. +And look! Martha is bound in her chair. He's a burglar!" + +Oh, they had a great debate amongst 'em, Aunt Martha fin'lly admittin' +it was just a little prank of Hadley's, her being roped down; but she +was sure I had tried to murder him, just for nothing at all. Hadley says +so too. In fact, he tells seven diff'rent yarns in as many minutes, each +one makin' me out worse than the last. + +"There!" says his mother. "Now, Zenobia, will you send for an officer?" + +Nope, Zenobia wouldn't; anyway, not until she had more facts to go on. +She don't deny that maybe I'm kind of a suspicious-lookin' character, +and says it ain't been explained what I was doin' in there holdin' +little Hadley on the rug; but she don't want to ring up the cops unless +it's a clear case. + +"You know, my dear," she winds up with, "Hadley is quite apt to get into +trouble." + +"Zenobia Preble!" snorts Sally, her eyes blazin'. "And he your own flesh +and blood! Come, precious, mother will take you home, and you shall +never, never come to this house again!" + +"There, Sally," begins Zenobia, "don't fly into a----" + +"When my husband's mother chooses to insult me in her own home," says +Sally, "I hope I have spirit enough to resent it!" + +Say, she had that and some left over. Inside of two minutes she's +hustled little Hadley into his things, and out they sails to her +carriage, leavin' the makin's of a first-class fam'ly row all prepared. + +In the meantime Zenobia is tyin' Aunt Martha loose, and I'm standin' +around waitin' to see what's goin' to happen to me next. Course, I +expects the third degree; but she begins with Martha. + +"Now what mischief was Hadley up to this time?" she asks. + +And Martha sticks to it that it was nothing at all. He merely found that +old plant-sprayer and discovered that by unscrewing the nozzle it made a +fine squirt gun. To be sure, she had asked him not to use the water from +the goldfish globe; but he just would. Also he'd insisted on locking all +the servants downstairs, and when she tried to amuse him in other ways +he'd tied her to the chair. + +But it was just Hadley's innocent fun. He hadn't harmed anyone, even if +he did squirt a little water on the postman and a delivery boy. She had +not minded it herself, and no one had been rude to him until I'd come +chasing in and handled him so rough. That was an outrage, and Martha +thought I ought to get a life sentence for it. + +"Humph!" says Zenobia, turnin' to me. "Now, young man, what have you got +to say?" + +"Ah, what's the use?" says I. "You've got the whole story now. I'd do +the same again." + +"Relying on the fact that your uncle is a police captain?" says she. + +"Nah," says I. "That was hot air." + +"There, Zenobia!" says Martha. "I told you he was a bad boy." + +"Are you?" says Zenobia. + +"Well," says I, "that all depends on how you size me up. I ain't in the +crook class, nor I don't wear any Sunday-school medals, either." + +"Who are you?" says she. + +"Why, just Torchy," says I. "See--torch, Torchy," and I points to my +sunset coiffure. + +"But who are your parents?" she goes on. + +"Don't own any," says I. "I'm a double orphan and rustlin' for myself." + +"Where do you live?" says she. + +"Why," says I, "I don't live anywhere just now. I'm movin'; but I don't +know where to." + +"I suppose that is either impudence or epigram," says she; "but never +mind. Perhaps you will tell me where you work?" + +"I don't work at all," says I. "I'm head office boy for the Corrugated +Trust, and it's a cinch job." + +"Indeed!" says she. "The Corrugated Trust? Let me see, who is at the +head of that concern?" + +"Say," says I, "you don't mean you never heard of Old Hickory Ellins or +Mr. Robert, do you?" + +She kind of smiles at that; but dodges makin' any answer. + +"Well," says I, "do I get pinched, or just given the run? Either way, +I've got some baggage down by the area door that ought to be looked +after." + +"Why, certainly, I will have it----" then she stops and looks me over +sort of shrewd. "Suppose," she starts in again, "you go and get it +yourself?" + +"Sure!" says I, and it ain't until I'm outside that I sees this is just +her way of tryin' me out; for I has a fine chance to beat it. "Nix!" +thinks I. "I might as well see this thing through and get a decision." +So back I goes with the suitcase and laundry bag. She hadn't even +followed me to the door. + +"Ah!" says she, lookin' up. "You weren't afraid to come back, then. +Why?" + +"Oh, I guess it was because I banked on your givin' me a square deal," +says I. + +That gets a grin out of her. "Thank you very much for the compliment," +says she. "I may say that the inquisition is over. However, I should +like to have you remain a little longer, if you care to. Won't you leave +your things in the hall there? Your hat and overcoat too." + +"Zenobia," says Martha, wakin' up, "surely you are not going to----" + +"Precisely," says Zenobia. "I am going to ask him to stay for dinner +with us. Will you?" + +"Yep!" says I. "I never let any free eats get by me." + +"But," gasps Martha, "you don't know who he is?" + +"Neither does he know us," says Zenobia. "Torchy, I am Mrs. Zenobia +Preble. This is my sister, Miss Martha Hadley. She is very good, I am +very wicked, and we are both women of mature years. You will probably +find our society rather dull; but the dinner is likely to be fairly +good. Besides, I am feeling somewhat indebted to you." + +"It's a go," says I, "if I can have a chance to wash up first." + +"Of course," says she. Then she gives me a key and directions how to +find a certain door on the third floor. "My son's quarters," she goes +on, "that I have kept just as he left them twenty years ago. I shall +expect you to make yourself quite at home there." + +Do I? Why, say, it's a back joint such as you might dream about: two +rooms and bath across the front of the house, guns and swords and such +knickknacks on the walls, a desk, a lot of books, and even a bathrobe +and slippers laid out. Say, while I was scrubbin' off some of the +inkstains and smoothin' down my hair with the silver-backed brushes I +felt like a young blood gettin' ready for a party. + +Then after awhile I strolls down to the lib'ry and makes myself to home +some more. It's a comf'table place, with lots of big easy-chairs, nice +pictures on the wall, and no end of bookshelves. The old ladies has +cleared out, not even lockin' up any of the curios or sendin' a maid to +watch me. + +And when it comes to the feed--why, say, it's a reg'lar course dinner, +such as you'd put up a dollar for at any of these high-class table dotty +ranches. Funny old china they had too, and a big silver coffeepot right +on the table. The only bad break I makes is just at the start, when I +dives into the soup without noticin' that Aunt Martha has her head down +and is mumblin' something about bein' thankful. + +"Never mind," says Mrs. Preble. "We aren't included in this, anyway." + +That begins the talk. I ain't put through the wringer, you understand, +but just follows Zenobia while she goes from one thing to another, +givin' her opinions of 'em and now and then callin' for mine. We got +real chatty too, and once in awhile she stops to laugh real hearty, +though I couldn't see where I'd got off any crack at all. + +Near as I can make out, Zenobia is a lively old girl for her age. She's +seen all the best Broadway shows, knows what's goin' on in town, and +reads the papers reg'lar. Also it comes out that she don't follow the +kind of programme you generally look for antiques to stick to. She ain't +got any use for churches, charity institutions, society, or the +suffragettes. All of which seems to shock Sister Martha, who don't say +much, but only shudders now and then. + +"You see, Torchy," says Zenobia, droppin' two lumps into her demitasse, +"I am an unbeliever. I don't even believe in growing old. When I hear of +other persons who have come to disbelieve in established things, no +matter what, I send for them and find out all about it across the dinner +table. We discuss art, religion, politics, goodness knows what. We +denounce things, from the existing social order, to the tariff on +stockings. My sister, who believes in everything as it is, usually takes +a nap and snores." + +"Zenobia!" says Martha. + +"Oh, not in a disturbing way," says Zenobia. "And I'm sure I almost do +the same whenever your friend the rector is here. Torchy, have you ever +been talked to about your soul?" + +"Once when I drifted into a mission a guy sprung that on me," says I. + +"Yes?" says Zenobia. "What then?" + +"I told him to go chase himself," says I. + +Hearty chuckles from Zenobia, while Sister Martha turns pale and gasps. + +Next thing I know I'm tellin' Mrs. Preble about my fallin' out with +Mother Sykes, and how I guess I'd better be pikin' up to engage a +thirty-cent room until I can draw on my reserve and locate a new +boardin' place. + +And, say, what do you guess that conversation leads up to? Well, it +struck me all in a heap at the time, though I didn't let on; but I +couldn't figure out the answer until I'd had a talk with Mr. Robert next +day. + +"Say, Mr. Robert," says I. "You don't happen to know an old party by the +name of Zenobia Preble, do you?" + +"I do," says he. "It isn't exactly an accident, either. She is a cousin +of my father." + +"Gee!" says I. "Cousin to the old--to the boss! Wh-e-ew!" + +"Rather an original old lady, Zenobia," says Mr. Robert. "And I +understand, from a talk I had with her over the 'phone early last +evening, that she was arbitrating the case of a young man who was in +some danger of arrest in her home. How did it come out, Torchy?" + +"Ah, say, you're on, ain't you?" says I. "Well, it was a verdict for the +defense, because I promised to do it again if I ever got the chance." + +Mr. Robert grins. "That grandson of hers is certainly a holy terror," +says he. "You and Zenobia parted friends, then?" + +"Not yet," says I. "We ain't parted at all. I'm stayin' as a trial +boarder." + +"What!" says he, sittin' up. "Oh, I see. An experiment in practical +sociology, eh?" + +"Maybe that's it," says I. "Anyway, it depends on whether or not I can +stand Aunt Martha." + +And when I leaves Mr. Robert he still has his mouth open. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +FIRST AID FOR THE MAIN STEM + + +Well, I ain't been adopted yet; but it's the next thing to it. Me and +Zenobia are gettin' to understand each other better every day. And, say, +for a ripe old party, she's younger in her mind than lots of folks I +know who ain't lived half so long. Maybe she did do her first travelin' +up and down Broadway in a horse stage; but that ain't the way she wants +to cover the ground now. What do you think she springs at the dinner +table the other night? Says she's goin' to the next aviation meet and +hire some one to take her up for an aeroplane ride. + +"Why, Zenobia!" says Sister Martha, so shocked her white frizzes almost +stand up and wiggle. + +That's Martha's cue, all right. She don't seem to get used to Zenobia's +ways, although they've been livin' together all these years. A genuine, +consistent antique, Sister Martha is, who still likes to talk about the +time when Horace Greeley ran for President. Accordin' to her +conversation the last real sensation that came her way was when she +went over to Brooklyn and heard Henry Ward Beecher preach. + +But even Martha ain't no worse when you get to know her. She's a +harmless, well meanin' old soul, and I'm 'most beginnin' to believe +she's pretty near as pious as she thinks she is. Anyway, it ain't any +Sunday pose with her. She lugs her religion right through the week, +holidays and all, and spreads it around even. I got it straight from +Zenobia that Martha's even begun ringin' me into her goodnight prayers, +along with the cook and the President. + +Also Martha has started in on what she calls my moral trainin', which +she dopes out as havin' been neglected somethin' shameful. Whenever +Zenobia ain't around to interrupt, I get a Jonah story, or a Sampson and +Delilah hair cuttin' yarn pumped into me, and if there ain't any cogs +missin' in her scheme I ought to be buddin' a soul before long. + +"Torchy," says she real solemn the other night, "I hope you do not use +profane language. Do you?" + +"Well," says I, "when I was on the Sunday editor's door I did used to +think I could put over a few gingery ones; but since I've been with the +Corrugated Trust I've kind of got out of practice." + +"Ah!" says she, beamin'. "That is good, very good! Your associations +are better; is that it?" + +"Mainly it's on account of Mr. Ellins," says I. "Maybe you never +happened to hear him; but, say, you ought to be there some mornin' when +he limps in with the gout in both feet and a hang-over grouch from the +day before! Cuss! Why, after listenin' to him grow real enthusiastic +once, I got discouraged. What's the use? thinks I." + +Well, someway that gives Martha an awful jolt; for maybe you remember my +tellin' how it turns out that her and Zenobia are second cousins to Old +Hickory. She says how she's pained and mortified beyond words to learn +that Mr. Ellins should allow his employees to hear him use such +language. + +"Ah, that's all right," says I. "As long as it ain't fired at 'em, +nobody feels bad. Mostly they grins, except now and then a new lady +typewriter who squirms and turns pale. He don't whisper when he's +cussin', Mr. Ellins don't." + +"Shocking!" says Sister Martha. "Does--does he do this often?" + +"It all depends on how he's feelin'," says I; "but for the past week or +ten days he's been at it pretty reg'lar. I expect he's been havin' a +worse siege than usual." + +Oh, me and Martha had a real heart to heart talk that night, and when I +fin'lly goes up to my top floor suite I leaves her fannin' herself and +gaspin' for breath. But she'd asked for facts, and I'd handed 'em over. +How was I to guess what was goin' to be the follow up on that? + +Not expectin' anything more'n instructions about some errand or other, I +ain't any disturbed when Piddie comes up to the gate desk right after +lunch next day, lookin' as stern and solemn as if he'd been sent to read +a warrant. + +"Boy," says he, "Mr. Ellins, senior, wishes to see you in his private +office!" + +"Well, that ain't surprisin', is it, Piddie?" says I. "You don't suppose +we can talk over big affairs like ours out here, do you? Keep your ear +off the keyhole, too!" And with that I goes in chipper and cheerful. + +The minute I gets through the last door, though, I feels the frost in +the air. Mr. Ellins, he lets me wait long enough for the chill to strike +in, while he signs a basketful of letters. Then he swings around in his +swivel chair and proceeds to size me up through them gunmetal gray eyes +of his. Say, it was like standin' in front of a searchlight and under a +cold shower, all at once. + +"So, young man!" says he. "You have been hearing me swear, eh?" + +That's enough for me. Just from that I can sketch the whole plot. And +it don't take me a month to figure out the line of talk I'm goin' to +use. What's the sense in playin' for time when your blue ticket's all +made out. + +"Heard you?" says I. "Think I wear my ears full of putty?" + +"Huh!" he grunts. "And do I understand that you disapprove of my +profanity?" + +"Ah, who's been fillin' you up?" says I. "Why, you're an artist at it." + +"Thanks," says he. "And I suppose you felt it your duty to inform my +relatives of the fact? Very thoughtful of you, I'm sure." + +"Don't mention it," says I. + +"You--you're an impertinent young whelp!" says he, his cheeks gettin' +purple and puffy. + +"Ah, don't mind the frills," says I. "Get out the can. I'm fired, ain't +I?" + +"No!" he shouts, bangin' his fist down on the desk. "At least, not until +I get through with you. What I want to know is why in blue belted blazes +you did it!" + +"Well," says I, "first off I guess it just naturally slipped out; then, +when I saw what a hit I was makin' with Martha--why, I expect I sort of +enjoyed givin' her the details." + +Somehow, that seems to graze his funnybone, and he has a struggle to +keep a grin out of his mouth corners. "Humph!" says he. "I--I'd like to +have seen her then. So you went on to describe the general state of my +health, did you?" + +"It was you we was chattin' about," says I. + +"Fascinating topic, I've no doubt," he growls; "but I hardly appreciate +the attention. Understand?" + +"That's breakin' on me gradual," says I. + +"Fortunately for you, though," he goes on, "you didn't attempt to lie +out of it. By the way, why didn't you?" + +"And her just after givin' you the whole game over the 'phone?" says I. +"Ah, say!" + +"Young man," says he, shootin' over the quizzin' gaze, "either you are +too blickety blinked fresh to keep, or else you're too keen to lose; +hanged if I know which! But--er--well, I'll take a chance. You may go +out and report to Mr. Piddie for duty." + +"It'll near break his heart," says I. + +It does, too. I expect from what he'd heard in the private office that +he was figurin' on handin' me my hat as I was shot out and remarkin' +that he knew all along it was comin' to me. Then there'd be a rollcall +of new office boys, with him pickin' out one more to his taste than me. +But no such luck for him. + +"Cheer up, Piddie," says I. "I'll have the warden send you an invitation +when they fin'lly get me right." + +Course, I don't make any squeal at the house about my narrow escape; for +I knew Martha only meant it for the best. Next day Mr. Ellins don't show +up at the office at all, and that evenin' Martha is better posted on his +condition than I am. She's been busy on the wire again, this time +locatin' him at home. + +"My poor cousin," says she, "is in a wretched state. He has been +overworking, I fear, and seems to be a nervous wreck. That will account, +I have no doubt, for his recent lapses into profanity. He feels rather +ashamed of himself; but perhaps I should make allowances. What he needs +is rest and quiet. Luckily, I happened to know just the place for him +and was able to persuade him to go there at once. He started this +afternoon." + +It's called the Wesley Restorium, Martha says, and is run by an old +friend of hers who used to be a missionary doctor in China. He's an +awfully good man, and she's sure he'll help Mr. Ellins a lot. Besides, +his place is only about fifty miles off, over in North Jersey; so Mr. +Ellins could make the run easy in his limousine. + +Well, that leaves only Mr. Robert, Piddie, and me to manage the +Corrugated, and we was all bearin' up under the load well enough except +Piddie; when along about two o'clock there's a long distance call from +the Main Stem, and a few minutes later Mr. Robert sends out for me. + +"Torchy," says he, "you seem to be elected. The governor wants you." + +"Me?" says I. + +"Yes," says Mr. Robert. "I don't exactly understand why. He is at a +sanatorium, you know, and we had arranged to send up his private +secretary with the important mail this afternoon; but he says he wants +you. Says you're responsible for his being there--whatever that means." + +"I'm on," says I. "When do I start?" + +There's a train at three-thirty-four; so that gives me time to chase +around to the house after a grip, then back to the office to gather up a +bundle of late letters, and pike for Jersey City. And at that it's five +o'clock before I'm landed at a little flag station umpteen miles beyond +nowhere. My! but the north end of Jersey has some up and down to it, +though! From what I'd heard I thought the State was all meadows; but +here I am carted in a four-horse bus up the side of a hill that's twice +as tall as the Metropolitan tower. + +Say, I never saw so much country spread out all at once before--nothing +but hills and trees, and no signs of houses anywhere. Made me so blamed +lonesome lookin' at it that I had to shut my eyes for a spell. And when +we gets to the top there's a big shack like a new set of car barns, +with hundreds of windows, and big wide veranda all around. It looks as +homy and cheerful as the Art Museum. The lawn is full of rocks and +stumps, and the few little flowerbeds that have been laid out looked +lost and homesick. + +Pacin' up and down the verandas, like animals in a cage, was about fifty +people, and over at one end, all by himself, looms up Old Hickory, +lookin' big and ugly and disgusted with life. + +"Well!" he growls. "So you got here, eh? Hope you like it as well as I +do. Bring that mail inside." + +While he's more or less grouchy, he don't act any more like a nervous +wreck than usual. I take it that he was some tired when he got up here +night before; but that he cut out dinner and turned in for a good +twelve-hour snooze instead. Then he's had a quiet day, and I judge he +was a lot better already. + +He's just got well into his letters, when an attendant guy in a white +duck uniform steps in and taps him on the shoulder. + +"Well?" says Old Hickory. + +"Vesper service is beginning in the chapel, sir," says the gent. + +"Let it begin, then," says Mr. Ellins. + +"But," says the gent, "it is usual for guests to----" + +"It isn't for me!" snaps Mr. Ellins. "You get out!" + +And the gent got out. + +We could hear 'em singin' hymns and so on for half an hour; but Mr. +Ellins keeps right on goin' through his mail and makin' notes on the +envelops until six o'clock, when a big gong rings. + +"Thank heaven! Dinner!" says he. "Come on, Torchy; I'm hungry enough to +eat a bale of hay!" Then he's hardly got into his chair in the dinin' +room before he's snapping his fingers for a waiter. "Hey!" he sings out. +"Bring me a dry Martini right away, and a pint of Chateau Yquem with the +fish." + +"Excuse me," says the waiter, "but there isn't anything like that on the +bill of fare. If it's something to drink you want, you can order +buttermilk, which is extra." + +"Buttermilk!" snorts Old Hickory. "Say, where's the proprietor? Send him +over here!" + +He didn't have to call him twice; for the boss of the Restorium had +heard the row and was glidin' our way as fast as his rubber heels would +let him. He's a short legged, pop eyed, red faced party, wearin' cute +white side whiskers, a black Prince Albert, and a minister's necktie. + +"Gently, gently," says he, pattin' the air with his hands and puckering +his mouth. "Remember to speak softly in the dining room." + +"All right, Doc," says Mr. Ellins; "but I want a cocktail." + +"Tut, tut, brother!" says the Doc, liftin' a warnin' finger and raisin' +his eyebrows. "No intoxicating liquors served here, you know. Now a +glass of nice buttermilk is just what----" + +"Bah! Buttermilk!" snorts Hickory. "Think I come from a dairy?" + +The Doc does his best to soothe him down and fin'lly persuades him to +tackle his mutton broth without the Martini. It's a good enough feed; +but kind of plain, about what you'd get in one of these Eighth-ave. +joints, four courses for thirty-five cents. Mr. Ellins gets left again +when he calls for a demitasse after the tapioca pudding. Nothing doing +in the coffee line. + +"Huh!" he grunts. "I suppose I may smoke, eh?" + +"On the north veranda, from seven until eight-fifteen," says the waiter. + +"Well, I'll be--blistered!" says Old Hickory. + +While he's burnin' a couple of black perfectos out on the smoke +reservation, I roams around the Restorium. It's furnished neat and +simple, with lots of varnished woodwork and a few framed railroad photos +on the walls. In the parlor was four or five groups of women in rockin' +chairs, talkin' low and doin' fancy-work. Most of the men were tiptoein' +up and down the veranda. They was a stoop shouldered, dyspeptic lookin' +lot. Down in the basement in a place labeled "Recreation Room," a couple +of checker games was in progress, and four gents was shovin' weights up +and down the shuffleboard. Yes, it was a perfectly good place to be +quiet in. I could guess why Hickory Ellins had begun to show signs of +bein' restless. By eight o'clock he comes marchin' in and up to the +office desk. + +"Where's the billiard room?" says he. + +"There is no billiard room, brother," says the Doc, steppin' to the +front. "Here we have eliminated all of those things that might disturb +our beautiful peace and quiet." + +"Have, eh?" grunts Hickory. "Then where can I find three others to make +up a bridge game?" + +"Card playing," says the Doc, putting his thumb and forefingers +together, "is not allowed in the Restorium." + +"Sorrowing sisters by the sea!" remarks Mr. Ellins. "No billiards! No +cards! Say, what the merry Mithridates do you think I'm going to do with +myself from now until twelve o'clock, eh?" + +"By referring to the rules of this establishment, Mr. Ellins," says the +Doc, speakin' cold and reprovin', "you will see that the general +retiring hour is fixed at nine-thirty. At nine-forty-five the gas is all +turned off." + +"What!" roars Hickory. "Think you're going to put me to bed at +nine-thirty?" + +"You are at liberty to sit up in the dark, if you choose," the Doc comes +back at him. "Any guest who is dissatisfied with the manner in which the +Restorium is conducted has the option of leaving." + +"Well, say!" says Mr. Ellins, thumpin' the desk earnest, "I am +dissatisfied! Buttermilk and vesper services! Huh! Do you suppose I've +paid two weeks in advance for such a dose? Where's your 'phone?" + +With that he calls up New York, gets his chauffeur on the wire, and +orders him to have the car here first thing in the morning, even if he +has to start before light. + +"And what is more," says Mr. Ellins, walkin' back to the Doc, "I propose +to buy the rest of this hill and open a real live hotel as close to your +place as I can put it. There'll be something going on in it all the +time, if I have to make everything free, and you can bet your last +dollar the wine list will have something besides buttermilk on it! +There'll be billiard tables, bowling alleys, a dance hall, and a brass +band playing all night. I'll fix your beautiful peace and quiet for +you!" + +The Doc, he smiles a kind of sanctified smile and points to the clock. +"In just forty-five minutes," says he, "the lights go out." + +That's all the satisfaction Mr. Ellins gets, too; so he takes me in tow +and we beat it 'steen times around the verandas, him stating his +opinions of restoriums in general, Cousin Martha in partic'lar, and now +and then shootin' a sarcastic remark at me. But when he sees the other +victims begin sneakin' off one by one he growls out: + +"Well, son, I suppose they'll be locking us out if we don't follow suit. +Get the keys to our rooms." + +First off I thought I could have a great snooze; but it's such a blamed +quiet place that I found myself wide awake, with my ear strained to see +if I couldn't hear something. After an hour or so of that, I gets up and +sits by the open window; but as there ain't any moon or any street +lights, it's like starin' down a coalhole. + +I was wondering if the country was always as black as that at night, and +what would happen to anyone that strayed out into it, when all of a +sudden I hears a window raised, and way down in the basement under the +dining room I sees a bright light shinin' out. "Hello!" thinks I. "Some +of the help must be bustin' the rules and regulations." + +By leanin' out and rubberin' I could look down into the room. And, say, +the shock almost tumbled me out. For there's the Doc sittin' in his +shirtsleeves with four other gents around a green topped table decorated +with stacks of chips. The Doc is just dealin', and before the shade is +pulled down again I had time to see him reach under the lower deck and +haul up a decanter that might have been full of cold tea. + +Well, say, I don't do a thing but hustle into my clothes and chase down +the corridor to Mr. Ellins' room. Is he int'rested in the tale? He's all +of that. + +"Torchy," says he, "if you can lead me down to that game, I--I'll +forgive you. Perhaps I'll do better than that." + +I used up half a box of matches findin' the way; but at last we located +the light comin' through the transom. + +"Good work!" he whispers. "Now you go back to bed and enjoy a long +night's rest." + +Sure I did--not. I wouldn't have missed hearin' that exchange of happy +greetin's for a farm. And the way the Doc chokes up and splutters tryin' +to explain things was somethin' lovely. He was gettin' himself as +twisted as a pretzel, when Old Hickory breaks in. + +"That's all right, Doc," says he. "Innocent little relaxation. I +understand perfectly. Now, what's the ante?" + +Well, after that the conversation wasn't so excitin'; nothing but, "I'll +take three cards," or "Raise you two more blues." So I sneaks back and +falls into the hay once more. + +At breakfast Mr. Ellins shows up more smilin' and chipper than I'd ever +seen him anywhere before. He puts away three soft boiled eggs, a couple +of lamb chops, and two cups of coffee made special for him. The Doc he +follows us out to the limousine. + +"Sorry to have you go so soon, Mr. Ellins," says he, rubbin' one hand +over the other, "very sorry indeed, sir. And--er--about those memoranda +from my assistants. I will see that they are redeemed, you know." + +"Those I O U's?" says Mr. Ellins. "Oh, you tell the boys I tore 'em up. +Yours, too, Doctor. I had my fun out of the game. So long." + +And for the next four miles Old Hickory don't do much but gaze out on +the landscape and chuckle. + +"Was that a bluff about buildin' that hotel?" says I after awhile. + +"Well," says Mr. Ellins, "not exactly; but I think I shall present the +Restorium with a pipe organ instead." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +IN ON THE OOLONG + + +Course it was a cinch; but Piddie ain't got done wonderin' yet how I did +it. I can tell that by the puzzled way he has of lookin' me over when he +thinks I ain't noticin'. + +You see, we'd been havin' a quiet week at the Corrugated. This fine +spell of weather has braced Old Hickory up until he almost forgets how +he's cast himself for the great grouch collector. Things must have been +runnin' smooth, too; for he can even read about the Return from Elba +plans without chuckin' the mornin' paper into the waste basket and +gettin' purple behind the ears. + +Then, all of a sudden here the other afternoon, Piddie comes trottin' +out of the private office all flustered up and begins pawin' excited +through the big bond safe. He's hardly got started at that before there +comes three rings on the buzzer for him, and he trots back to see what +the old man wants now. Next there are hurry calls for the general +auditor and the head of the contract department, and before Mr. Ellins +gets through he's had every chief in the shop up on the carpet and put +'em through the third degree. Way out by my gate I could hear him layin' +down the law to 'em, and they comes out lookin' wild and worried. + +Which don't get me excited any at all. I worked in the newspaper office +too long and saw too many Sunday editions go to press for that. So when +I hears him yell for me I don't jump over the desk and get goose flesh +up the back. I keeps right on snappin' rubber bands at the spring water +bottle until he's shouted a couple more times. Then I winks at the row +of lady typists and strolls in, calm and easy. + +"Yes, sir?" says I. + +"See here, boy!" says he. "Do you happen by any chance to know where +that son of mine might be found at this moment?" + +"Mr. Robert?" says I. "Nix." + +"No, of course you don't!" says Old Hickory, glarin' at me. "No one +around this precious asylum for undeveloped cerebellums seems to know +anything they ought to. Bah!" + +"Yes, sir," says I. + +"Don't grin at me that way!" he snaps. "Get out! No, stay where you are! +If you don't know where Robert is, where do you think he might be +found?" + +"Tried any of his clubs?" says I. + +He had, all of 'em. Also he'd had him paged through four hotel grill +rooms and called up three brokers' offices. + +"Well, if he ain't havin' a late lunch, or playin' billiards, or +watchin' the stock board, I give it up," says I. "Maybe you've noticed +that Mr. Robert ain't been in many afternoons lately." + +"Huh! Perhaps I haven't, though!" grunts Old Hickory. "But this time it +is important that he should be here. Young man, you seem to have less +wool on your wits than most of the office force; so I am going to +confide to you that unless we find Robert before four-thirty o'clock +this afternoon the Corrugated Trust Company will lose a lot of money." + +"Oh, if it's a case of savin' the next dividend," says I, "I'll take +another think. I expect you asked for him at the house?" + +"He was there at one-fifteen and left twenty minutes later," says Mr. +Ellins. + +"Yes; but what kind of clothes was he wearin'?" says I. + +"Clothes!" snorts out Old Hickory. "What the blithering----" + +"Lemme ask his man," says I, grabbin' the desk 'phone. "Plaza--yes, +Plaza, double O double three sixty-one. Sure! You got it. Say, Mr. +Ellins, that butler of yours don't burn the carpet movin' fast, does he? +He must----Hello! I want to talk to Walters. Ah, never mind who I am, +switch him on!" And inside of two minutes I have the report. "Frock coat +and silk lid," says I. "See? Society date." + +"Huh!" says the old man. "That settles it. He's tagging around after +that young lady violinist again. Might have guessed; for since she's +come back from Paris he has taken about as much interest in business as +a cat does in astronomy. But to-morrow morning we'll----" + +"Say," I breaks in, "if it's a case of young lady, why not locate her +and then scout for Mr. Robert in the neighborhood? That ought to be +easy." + +"Think so?" says he. "Well, young man, you have my permission to tackle +the job. Her name is Inez Webster. I don't know where she lives, or with +whom she's staying; but she's somewhere in New York. Now, how will you +begin?" + +"By rubberin' at Mr. Robert's date pad," says I. + +"Good!" says Old Hickory. "No one else thought of that," and he leads +the way in and unlocks Mr. Robert's rolltop. "Now what do those +scratches mean?" + +"I. W. 2:15," says I, readin' it off. "The arrow points to Inez. He must +be with her now." + +"Wherever that is!" growls Mr. Ellins. "Go on." + +"Say, lemme think a minute," says I, slippin' into the swing chair and +doin' the Sherlock gaze at the desk. + +"Oh, certainly!" says he, snappy and sarcastic. "Take a nap over it! +Plenty of time!" and with that he pads back into his office and slams +the door. + +Now I didn't like pawin' through the pigeon-holes or drawers; but when I +happens to glance at the waste basket I feels more at home. In a jiffy I +has it dumped on the rug. There was an empty cigarette box, the usual +collection of circulars, a dozen torn business letters, and so on. It +looked like a hopeless hunt, too, until I runs across this invitation +card announcin' that the Misses Pulsifer will be at home from +two-fifteen until five-thirty. There's a Fort Washington Road address, +and down in one corner it says "music." Also to-day's the day. + +"Whoop!" says I, stowin' away the card. "Me for the Misses Pulsifers' on +a long shot. Hey, Mr. Ellins!" I shouts, stickin' my head in the door. +"Can I draw two bones for expense money? I'm on the trail." + +"The blazes you are!" says he. + +"Yep," says I. "Mebbe it's a false scent; but if I find him what's the +message?" + +"Just ask Robert," says he, "if it has occurred to him that those P. K. +& Q. contract copies have got to be filed with the bonding company this +afternoon. That's all." + +"Right!" says I. "P. K. & Q. contracts. I'm off." + +Ever get as far up into the northwest corner of the island as Fort +Washington Road? Then you know how many blocks it is from the nearest +subway station. Not havin' time for a half-hour stroll, I takes a +Broadway express, jumps it at 157th, hunts up a taxi, and turns down the +red flag. + +"Now don't try zigzaggin' around to roll up mileage," says I to the +shuffer; "but beat it straight there." + +Some swell places up in that neck of Manhattan, what? Why, some of them +folks has so much back yard they keep their own cow. When we rolls in +through a pair of big stone gates I begin to suspect that the Misses +Pulsifers was lady plutes for fair, and the size of the house had me +stunned. + +"I'm swell lookin' front door comp'ny, I am," thinks I, handin' over a +dollar thirty to the taxi pirate and paradin' in across the red carpet. +"Now what is it I tell the butler when he pushes out his tray?" + +All the guard they has on the door, though, is a French maid, and when +she starts to look me over suspicious I shoves the invitation card at +her. + +"Say, Marie," says I, "where's the doin's?" + +"Pardon?" says she. "What you wish?" + +"Ah, where do they keep the music?" says I. + +"Ze musicale?" says she. "It is commence. S-s-s-sh!" and she points down +the hallway. + +"Yes, I was afraid I'd be late," says I. "Glad they didn't wait. I'll +sneak into a back seat." + +Did I? Well, say, I didn't know what I was runnin' into; for as I pushes +through some draperies I finds myself on the side lines of the biggest +herd of girls I ever saw collected in one room before. Why, there was +rows and rows of 'em, all in white dresses, and the minute I steps in +about two hundred pairs of eyes revolves my way. + +Talk about jumpin' into the limelight! I felt like I'd wandered out on +the stage while the big scene was goin' on. Then comes the giggles, and +business with the elbows of passin' the nudge along. They all forgets +what's doin' up on the platform by the piano and pays strict attention +to me. Blush? Say, I'll bet my ears ain't got back their reg'lar color +yet! + +Seemed like my feet was stuck to the floor, too. Maybe it was an hour I +stood there, and maybe it was only a minute; but at last I takes one +wild look around over that girl convention and then I backs out. I'd +seen him, though. Way over by an open window on the other side was Mr. +Robert, one of the four men in that whole crowd. So out the front door I +rushes and then tiptoes around the veranda until I came to him. + +And he wa'n't gazin' around watchin' for casual butters-in. Not Mr. +Robert! All he's seein' is the slim young lady standin' up on the +platform with the violin tucked under her chin. You couldn't blame him +much, either; for, while I ain't any judge of the sort of music she was +teasin' out of the strings, I'll say this much: The way she was doin' it +was well worth watchin'. The swing of that elbow of hers, and the +Isadora Duncan sway of her shoulders as she hits the high notes sure did +have some class to it. He's so busy followin' her motions that he don't +even know when I leans in within six inches of him and whispers. So I +has to give him the gentle prod. + +"Eh!" says he, whirlin' around. "Why, what the--Torchy!" + +"Uh-huh," says I. "Crawl out backwards, can't you?" + +"Wha--what's that!" says he, whisperin' sort of husky. + +"You got to do it," says I. "I was sent up special to get you." + +"Why, what's the matter?" says he. + +"P. K. & Q. contracts," says I. "Did you file 'em yet?" + +"By Jove, no!" he groans under his breath. "I--I forgot." + +"Then it's a case of beat it," says I. + +"But--but I can't!" says Mr. Robert. "I can't possibly leave now, right +in the middle of----" + +"That's so," says I. "She's lookin' this way now. But where'd you stow +the contracts? Remember that, do you?" + +"Why, of course," says he. "Third left hand drawer of my desk, in a +document box." + +"'S enough!" says I. "I'll 'phone down and tell 'em. They'll fix it up. +Don't move; she's lookin' your way again." + +"Wait!" says he, behind his hand. "I must see you before you go back, +after the concert is over. Wait for me in the garden." + +"In the garden, Maud, it is," says I, and with that I slides back to the +front entrance and gets Marie to lead me to the 'phone booth. + +Well, I'd got the joint all sized up now. It's one of these swell +boardin' schools for girls, where they take piano lessons and are +exposed to French and the German measles. And, now my knees has quit +wabblin' and I was safe out of the hall, I was almost glad I'd come up +and give the young ladies such a treat. I couldn't help admirin' Mr. +Robert's nerve, though; for he must have known what he was lettin' +himself in for when he follows Inez up there. But when they get it that +bad there's no tellin' how reckless they'll be. + +If it had been all the same to Mr. Robert, my next move would have been +to get away from the spot as quick as my feet would let me; but so long +as he'd assigned me a waiting part that's what it had to be. With +Marie's help I finds the garden out at the back of the house and makes +myself comf'table on a rustic seat. It's a flossy garden scene, all +right, with winding paths, and flowerbeds, and cute little summer +houses, and all sorts of bushes in bloom. Now and then I could hear +music driftin' out, and when a piece was through the hand clappin' would +commence, like a shower on a tin roof. + +Say, it had sittin' behind the brass rail in the office beat to a froth, +and I was enjoyin' it, lazy and comf'table, with my feet up on the bench +and my head back; when all at once there's a big spasm of applause, the +doors openin' on the back veranda are swung open, everybody starts +chatterin' together, there's a swish and a rustle and a clatter of high +heels; and the next thing I knew the whole blamed garden was full of +'em. + +Girls! Say, all the fifty-seven varieties was represented,--tall ones, +short ones, thin ones, plump ones, and plain fatties. There was +aristocratic brunettes, and dimpled blondes, and every shade between. +They ranged from fourteen up, and they sported all kinds of hair +dressin', from double pleated braids to the latest thing in turban +swirls. And there was little Willie, hemmed in by a twelve-foot wall on +three sides and solid squads of girls on the fourth! + +First they began sailin' by in groups of twos and threes and fours, all +givin' me the goo-goo stare and snickerin'. Honest, you'd thought I was +some kind of a humorous curiosity, specially exhibited for the occasion. +Ain't they the limit, though? And the whispered remarks they passed! +"Why, Madge! Aren't you just killing! Whose brother did you say you +thought----Yes, and so curly, too!" + +I try to forget that red thatch of mine most of the time; but this was +no place to practice bein' absent minded. It didn't seem to make any +diff'rence whether I put my hat on or left it off, they were wise to the +ruddy hair. All I could do was to squeeze myself into one corner of the +seat and pretend not to notice 'em. What I wanted most was to stand up +and holler for Mr. Robert. Why in blazes didn't he show up, anyway? + +I'd been enjoyin' this gen'ral inspection stunt for four or five +minutes, when maids begun circulatin' among the mob with trays of +sandwiches and plates of chicken salad, and every last one of 'em +stopped at my station. + +"No, thanks," says I. Think I wanted to give a food destroyin' +performance before an audience like that? I was just wavin' away the +fourth offer of picnic grub when I hears a little squeal come from a +bunch of new recruits, and when I looks up to see what's happening +now--well, you'd never guess. It's Miss Vee! You know, the pink and +white queen I was tellin' you about meetin' at the swell dancin' class +where I subbed for Izzie in the cloakroom and was invited out to join +the merry throng. + +She ain't got the ballroom costume on, of course; but I'd know them big +gray eyes and that straw colored hair and that sweet pea complexion in +any disguise. For a second she stands there gazin' at me sort of +surprised and puzzled, like she didn't know whether to give me the nod +or just put up her chin and sail by. If I could I'd looked the other +way, so's to give her a chance to duck recognizin' me; but I couldn't do +anything but stare back. And the next thing I knew she's comin' straight +for me. + +"Why, Torchy!" says she, sort of purry and confidential. "You!" And +blamed if she wa'n't holdin' out both hands. + +Well, say, you can't imagine what a diff'rence that makes to me. It was +like fallin' off a roof and landin' in a hammock. What did I care for +that push of young lady fluffs then? + +"Sure thing, it's me," says I, grabbin' the hands before she could +change her mind. "Say, have a seat, won't you, Miss Vee?" + +"Oh, then you haven't forgotten?" says she. + +"Me? Forget?" says I. "Say, Miss Vee, I'll keep right on rememberin' +that spiel we had together until breathin' goes out of fashion--and then +some! Gee! but I'm glad you happened along!" + +"But how is it," says she, "that you----" + +"Special commission," says I. "I'm waitin' here for Mr. Robert Ellins." + +"Oh!" says she. "And have you had some salad and sandwiches?" + +"No; but I'm ready for 'em now," says I. "That is, if----Say, you don't +mind doin' this, do you?" + +"Why should I?" says she. + +"Oh, well," says I, "you see I ain't--well, I'm kind of outclassed here, +and I didn't know but some of the other girls might----" + +"Let them dare!" says Miss Vee, straightenin' up and glancin' around +haughty. My! but she's a thoroughbred! There was one group standin' a +little way off watchin' us; but that look of Miss Vee's scattered 'em as +though she'd turned the hose on them. Next minute she was smilin' +again. "You see," she goes on, sittin' close, "I'm not much afraid." + +"You're a hummer, you are!" says I, lookin' her over approvin'. + +"There, there!" says she. "I see that you must have something to eat +right away. Here, Hortense! There! Now you'll have a cup of tea, won't +you?" + +"Anything you pass out goes with me," says I, "even to tea." + +It was my first offense in the oolong line, and, honest, I couldn't tell +now how it tasted; but I knew all about how Vee handles a cup and +saucer, though, and the way she has of lookin' at you over the rim. Say, +she's the only girl I ever knew who could talk more'n a minute to a +feller without the aid of giggles. There's some sense to what she has to +say, too, and all the way you can tell whether she's joshin' or not is +by watchin' her eyes. And me, I wa'n't losin' any tricks. + +She tells me all about how she's been to school here ever since she was +a little girl. Seems she's as shy on parents as I am; but she has an +aunt that she lives with between school terms. This is her finishin' +year, and as soon as the final doin's are over she and Aunty are due to +sail for Europe. + +"Coming back in September?" says I. + +"Oh, no indeed!" says she. "Perhaps not for two years." + +"Gee!" says I. + +"Well?" says she, and I finds myself lookin' square into them big gray +eyes of hers. + +"Oh, nothing," says I; "only--only it sounds a long ways off. And, say, +you don't happen to have a spare photo, do you, maybe one taken in that +dress you wore the night of the ball?" + +"Silly!" says she. "But suppose I have?" + +"Why," says I,--"why, I thought--well, say, it wouldn't do any harm to +leave my new address, would it! That's the number, care of Mrs. Zenobia +Preble." + +"Zenobia!" says she. "Why, I know who she is. Do you live with----" + +"I'm half adopted already," says I. "Bully old girl, ain't she? And say, +Miss Vee----" + +It was just about then I had the feelin' that some one was tryin' to +butt in on this two-part dialogue of ours, and as I looks up, sure +enough there's Mr. Robert, with his eyes wide and his mouth half open, +watchin' us. + +"Well, it's all over," says I. "Mr. Robert's waitin' for me. Good luck +and--and----Oh, what's the use? Give my regards to Europe, will you? +Good-by!" And with that we shakes hands and I breaks away. + +"I don't wish to seem curious," says Mr. Robert, as we walks out to his +cab, "but--er--is this something recent?" + +"Not very," says I. "We've met before." + +"Then allow me," says he, "to congratulate you on your good taste." + +"Thanks!" says I. "Same to you; and I ain't got so much on you at that, +eh?" + +We drops the subject there; but Mr. Robert seems so pleased over +something or other that we'd gone twenty blocks before he remembers what +brought me up. + +"Oh, by the way," says he, "I suppose there'll be no end of row about my +forgetting to send down those contracts. The Governor was wild, wasn't +he?" + +"He was wild, all right," says I, "without knowin' whether you'd forgot +'em or not." + +"But when you 'phoned him," says Mr. Robert, "of course he----" + +"Ah, say!" says I. "Do I look like a trouble hunter? I 'phoned +Piddie--told him to sneak 'em out, send 'em down, and keep his mouth +shut. All you got to do is act innocent." + +Never mind the hot air Mr. Robert passes out after that. What tickles me +most is the package that came for me yesterday by messenger. I finds it +on my plate at dinner time; so both the old ladies was on hand when I +opens it. + +"Why, Torchy!" says Aunt Martha, lookin' at me shocked and scandalized. +"A young lady's picture!" + +"Yep," says I. "Ain't she a dream, though?" + +And, say, Martha'd been lecturin' me yet if it hadn't been for Zenobia +breakin' in. + +"Do remember, Martha," says she, "that you were not always sixty-three +years old, and that once----Why, bless me! This must be Alicia Vernon's +child. Is there a name on the back? There is! Verona Ashton Hemmingway, +heiress to all that is left of poor Dick's fortune. She's a beauty, just +like her mother." + +"She's all of that," says I. + +It didn't make any diff'rence to Aunt Martha who she was, though. She +didn't think it right for young ladies to give away their pictures to +young men. She was for askin' me how long I'd known Miss Vee, and---- + +"There, now, Martha," said Zenobia, "suppose we don't." + +That's how it is I can guess who it was blew themselves for a corkin' +big silver frame, and put Vee's picture in it, and stood it on my +bureau. Course, Vee's on her way to foreign parts now, and there's no +tellin' when she's comin' back. Besides, there ain't anything in it, +anyway. But somehow that picture in the silver frame seems to help +some. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +BATTING IT UP TO TORCHY + + +Nobody had to point him out to me. I hadn't been holdin' down the chair +behind the brass gate more'n two days before I knew who was the living +joke on the Corrugated Trust Company's force. It's Uncle Dudley, of +course. + +And, say, my coppin' that out don't go to prove I'm a Mr. Cute. Any +mush-head could have picked him after one glimpse of the old vintage +Prince Albert, the back number silk lid, and the white Chaunceys he +wears on each side of his face. That get-up would be good for a quiet +smile even over in Canarsie; but when you come to plant it in the midst +of such a sporty aggregation as the Corrugated carries on the +payroll--why, you've got the comic chuckles comin' over fast. + +"Say, Piddie," says I the second morning, after watchin' it blow in, +"who's the seed, eh?" + +"That?" says Piddie. "Oh, that's old Dudley." + +"Does he wear the uniform reg'lar," says I, "or is he celebratin' some +anniversary?" + +And Piddie almost allows himself to grin as he explains how that's the +same costume Dudley has come down to work in every day for the last +fifteen years. + +"Well, it's a flossy outfit, all right," says I. "What is he, one of the +directors?" + +No, he wa'n't. He's some sort of subassistant auditor with a salary of +eighteen per. You know the kind--one of these deadwood specimens that +stand a show of gettin' the prunin' hook every time there's a shake-up. +Most every office has a few of 'em, hangin on like last year's oak +leaves in the park; but it ain't often they can qualify as comic +supplements. + +Not that Uncle Dudley tries to be humorous. He's the quietest, meekest +old relic you ever saw, slidin' in soft and easy with his hat off, and +walkin' almost as though he had his shoes in his hand. But the faded +umbrella under one arm and the big buttonhole bouquet he always wears +puts him in the joke book class without takin' the face lambrequins into +account at all. + +Can I let all that get by me without passin' out some josh? You can see +me, can't you? Never mind all the bright and cunnin' remarks I sprung on +Uncle Dudley now; but for awhile there I made a point of puttin' over +something fresh every day. Why, it was a cinch! + +All the comeback I ever got out of him, though, was that batty old +smile of his, kind of sad and gentle, as if I was remindin' him of times +gone by. And there ain't a lot of satisfaction in that, you know. Now, I +can chuck the giddy persiflage at Piddie day in and day out, and enjoy +doin' it, because it always gets him so wild. Also there's more or less +thrill to slippin' the gay retort across to Old Hickory Ellins now and +then, because there's a giddy chance of gettin' fired for it. But to rub +it into a non-resister like Uncle Dudley--well, what's the use? + +So after awhile I cut it out altogether, leavin' him for such amateur +cut-ups as Izzy Budheimer and Flannel Haggerty to practice on. Then +little by little me and old Dudley got more or less chummy, what with me +steerin' him around to my fav'rite dairy lunch joint and all that. And, +say, we must have been a great pair, sittin' side by side in the +armchairs, puttin' away sweitzer sandwiches and mugs of chickory blend; +him in his tall lid, and with his quiet, old timy manners, and me--well, +I guess you get the tableau. + +I used to like hearin' him talk, he uses such a soothin', genteel brand +of conversation; nothing fancy, you know, but plain, straightaway goods. +Mostly he tells me about his son, who's livin' out in California +somewhere and is just branchin' out in the cement block buildin' +business. Son is messin' in politics more or less too; mixin' it up +with the machine, and gettin' the short end of the returns every trip. +But it's on account of this reform stunt of his that the old gent seems +to be so proud of him, not appearin' to care whether he ever got elected +to anything or not. + +He don't say so much about the married daughter that he lives with over +in Jersey; but I don't think much about that until after I've let him +tow me over to dinner once and met Son in Law Bennett. He's a flashy +proposition, this young Mr. Bennett is, havin' an interest in a curb +brokerage firm that rents window space on Broad-st. and has desk room +down on William. Let him tell it, though, and, providin' some of his +deals go through, he's goin' to have Morgan squealin' for help before +the year is out. + +And I find that at home Uncle Dudley is rated somewhere between the +fam'ly cat and the front doormat. Mr. Bennett don't exactly gag the old +man and lock him in the cellar. He ignores him when he can, and when he +has to notice him he makes it plain that he's standin' the disgrace as +well as he can. + +"So you came over with the old sport, did you?" says Bennett to me. +"Batty old duffer, eh? That comes of being a dead one for so long. +Manages to hang on with the Corrugated, though, don't he? He'd better, +too! I'm not running any old folks' home here." + +But it wa'n't to show off how he stood with his son in law that Uncle +Dudley had lugged me along. He'd got so used to bein' dealt out for a +twospot that he didn't seem to mind. He didn't claim to be anything more +even at the office. + +It's his flower garden, out back of the house, that Uncle Dudley had got +me 'way out there to see; and, while I ain't any expert on that line of +displays, I should say this posy patch of his had some class to it. +Anyway, seein' it, and findin' out how he rolls off the mattress at +sunrise every mornin' to tend it, lets me in for a new view of him. It's +this little garden patch and the son out West that makes life worth +livin' for him, in spite of Son in Law Bennett. + +"Say, Dudley," says I, "why don't you work a combination of the two; go +out where you can raise roses all winter, if the dope these railroad +ads. sling out is straight, and be with your son too?" + +"I--I can't do that, just yet," says he, sort of hesitatin'. "You see, +he hasn't seen me for twelve years, and since then I have--er--well, +I've been slipping backward. He doesn't know what a failure I've made of +life, and if I gave up here and went on to him--why----" + +"I'm on," says I. "He'd spot you for one of the down-and-outers. But +you do get it rubbed in here good and plenty, don't you?" + +"From Bennett?" says he. "Oh, he is right, I suppose. He knows how +useless I am. But we cannot all succeed, can we? Some of us must stay at +the bottom and prop the ladder." + +One thing about Uncle Dudley, he had no whine comin'. He takes it all +meek and cheerful, and so far as I could make out he's most as useful +around the office as a lot of others that gets chesty whenever they +think what would happen to the concern if they should be sick for a +week. Anyway, there's frequent calls for old Dudley to straighten out +this or that; but somehow he never seems to get credit for bein' much +more than a sort of a walkin' copybook that remembers what other people +don't want to lumber up their valuable brains with. Maybe it's the white +mud guards, or his habit of lettin' anyone boss him around, that keeps +him down. + +And I expect things would have gone on that way, until he either dropped +out or got the blue envelope some payday, if it hadn't been for this lid +liftin' business up at Albany. Course, you've read how they uncovered +first one lot of grafters and then another, and fin'lly, with that last +swipe of the muck rake, got the Corrugated rung into the mess? And, say, +anyone would think, from some of the papers, that we was all a bunch of +crooks down here, spendin' our time feedin' wads of hundred-dollar bills +to the yellow dog. Maybe it don't stir up Mr. Robert some thorough, +though! + +"Why," I heard him say to the old man, "it's a beastly outrage, that's +what it is! All the fellows at the club are chaffing me about it, you +know. And besides it's disturbing business frightfully. Look at the +tumble our shares took yesterday! I say, Governor, we must send out a +denial." + +"Huh!" growls Old Hickory. "Who cares a blinkety blanked blank what they +say we did? Let 'em prove it!" + +Then the next day them checks was sprung on the investigatin' committee, +and it looked as though they'd made out their case against the +Corrugated. Perhaps there wa'n't doin's on the seventeenth floor that +mornin'! Clear out where I sat I could hear the boss callin' for first +one man and then another, and Piddie is turkeyin' in and out so excited +he don't know whether he's on duty or runnin' bases. Once, when he stops +to lean against the spring-water bottle and wipe his dewy brow, I slips +up behind and taps him quick on the shoulder. + +"Ye-e-e-es, sir!" says he, before he sees who it is. + +"Never mind, Piddie," says I. "I was goin' to ask you 'Guilty or not +guilty?' But what's the use? Anyone can see it was you that did it." + +"You--you impudent young sauce box!" he begins. "How dare you----" + +"Ah, save that for the subpoena server," says I. "He'll be in here +after you in a minute. And, say, my guess is that you'll get about ten +years on the rockpile." + +When the special directors' meetin' gets under way, though, and the big +guns of the Corrugated law force got on the job, there was less noise +and more electricity in the air. Honest, with all that tiptoein' and +whisperin' and serious looks bein' passed around, I didn't even have the +gall to guy one of the new typewriter girls. Kind of gets on your +nerves, a thing of that kind does, and if a squad of reserves had +marched in and pinched the whole outfit, I shouldn't have been so much +surprised. + +Right in the midst of it too there comes my three rings on the buzzer, +and in I sneaks where they're holdin' the inquest. Say, they're all +sittin' around the big mahogany directors' table, with the old man at +the head, lookin' black and ugly, and grippin' a half smoked cigar butt +between his teeth. I could see at a glance they hadn't thrown any scare +into him yet. He was just beginning to fight, that's all. + +"Boy," says he, "bring in Dudley." + +"Yes, sir," says I. + +But, say, my heels dragged some as I went out. Course I didn't know what +they wanted of the old boy; but it didn't look to be such a wild guess +that they'd picked him to play the goat part. I finds him perched up on +his stool, calm and serene, workin' away on the ledgers as industrious +as if nothin' special was goin' on. + +"Dudley," says I, "are you feelin' strong?" + +"Why, Torchy," says he, "I am feeling about as usual, thank you." + +"Well, brace yourself then," says I; "for there's rough goin' ahead. +You're wanted in on the carpet." + +"Me?" says he. "Mr. Ellins wants me?" + +"Uh-huh," says I, "him and the rest of 'em. But don't let 'em put any +spell on you. It's your cue now to forget the meek and lowly business. I +know you ain't strong for bluffin' through a game; but for the love of +soup put up a front to-day!" + +Dudley, he only smiles and shakes his head. Then off he toddles, wearin' +his old ink-stained office coat and even keepin' on the green eye-shade. + +Well, I don't know how long they had him on the grill; but it couldn't +have been more'n half an hour, for along about three o'clock I strolls +into the audit department, and there's old Dudley back on his perch +writin' away again. + +"Say, are you it?" says I. + +[Illustration: WE MUST HAVE BEEN A GREAT PAIR.] + +"Why, how is that?" says he. + +"Did they tie anything to you?" says I. "You know--con you into takin' +the blame, or anything like that?" + +"Blame for what?" says he. "I don't believe I understand. But nothing of +the sort was mentioned. I was merely given some instructions about my +work." + +"Oh!" says I. "That's all, eh? And you've gone right at it, have you?" + +"No," says he. "The fact is, Torchy, I am writing out my resignation." + +"What! Quittin'?" says I. "Say, don't you see what a hole that puts you +in? Why, it makes you the goat for fair! If you do that you'll need bail +inside of forty-eight hours--and you won't get it. Look here, Dudley, +take my advice and tear that up." + +"But I can't, Torchy," says he, "really, I can't." + +"Why not?" says I. "You've got a couple of hands, ain't you? And what'll +you do for another job if you chuck this one? Say, why in blazes are you +so anxious to take your chances between Sing Sing and the bread line?" + +He's there with the explanation, all right, and here's the way it +stands: Uncle Dudley has been called on because his partic'lar +double-entry trick is to keep the run of the private accounts. All they +want him to do is to take descriptions of a couple of checks, dig up +the stubs, and juggle his books so the record will fit in with a nice +new set of transactions that's just been invented for the purpose. + +"But what checks?" says I. "The five thousand plunkers to Mutt & Mudd?" + +"Why, yes," says he. "How did you know?" + +"Ah, how did I----Say, Dudley, ain't you been readin' the papers +lately?" says I. + +Would you believe it? He don't know any more about what's in the air +than a museum mummy knows of Lobster Square. This little private cyclone +that's been turnin' the office upside down ain't so much as ruffled his +whiskers. Checks are checks to him, and these special trouble makers +don't give him any chills up the back at all. He's been told, though, to +use the acid bottle on his books and write in a new version. + +"Well, why not do it?" says I. "What's that to you?" + +"Why, don't you see," says he, "it would be making a false entry, +and--I--I----Well, I've never done such a thing in my life, Torchy, and +I can't begin now." + +And, say, what do you know about that, eh? Just a piece of phony +bookkeepin' that he don't even have to put his name to, his job gone if +he don't follow orders, and him almost to the age limit anyway, with +Son in Law Bennett ready to shove him on the street the minute he gets +the sack! + +"Do you mean it?" says I. + +He puts his signature to the resignation and hands it over for me to +read. + +"Say, Dudley," says I, lookin' him up and down, "this listens to me like +a bughouse play of yours; but I got to admit that you do it sporty. +There's no ocher streak in you." + +"I hoped you would understand," says he. "In the circumstances, it was +all I could do, you see." + +"What I see plainer'n anything else," says I, "is that if this goes +through your career is bugged to the limit. When do you want this handed +in?" + +"As soon as possible," says he. "I suppose I ought to resign at once." + +"Resign!" says I. "You'll be lucky if the old man don't have you chucked +through the window. Better be waitin' down in the lower corridor when I +spring this on Mr. Ellins." + +Nothin' of that kind for Uncle Dudley, though. He starts straightenin' +up his desk as I goes out, as calm as though he was house cleanin' for a +vacation. + +And while I'm tryin' to make up my mind how to deliver this document to +the main stem and duck an ambulance ride afterwards, the directors' +meetin' breaks up. So I finds Old Hickory alone in his private office +and slips it casual on the pad in front of him. + +"Here, what's this?" he snorts, callin' me back as he opens up the +sheet. "Eh? Dudley! Resigns, does he! What, that dried up, goat faced, +custard brained, old----Say, boy; ask him what the grizzly grindstones +he means by----" + +"I did," says I, "and, if you want to know, he's quittin' because he's +too straight to cook up the books the way you told him." + +"Cook up the books!" gasps Old Hickory, gettin' raspb'ry tinted in the +face and displayin' neck veins like a truck horse. "He's been welshing, +has he? Perhaps he'd like to turn State's witness? Well, by the great +sizzling skyrockets, if that's his trick, I'll give him enough of----" + +"Excuse me, Mr. Ellins," I breaks in, "but you're slippin' your clutch. +Tricks! Why, he ain't even wise to what you want him to do it for. All +he knows is that it's crooked, and he renigs on a general proposition. +And, say, when a man's as straight as that, with the workhouse starin' +him in the face, he's too valuable to lose, ain't he?" + +"Wha-a-at?" gurgles Old Hickory. + +"Besides," says I, hurryin' the words to get 'em all out before any +violent scene breaks loose, "knowin' all he does about them Mutt & Mudd +checks, and with what he don't know about the case, it wouldn't be +hardly safe to have him roamin' the streets, would it? Now I leave it to +you." + +Say, I was lookin' Old Hickory right in the eye, ready to dodge the +inkstand or anything else, while I was puttin' that over, and for a +minute I thought it was comin' sure. But while he can get as hot under +the collar as anyone I ever saw, and twice as quick, he don't go clear +off his nut any of the time. + +"Young man," says he, calmin' down and motionin' me to a chair, "as +usual, you seem to be more or less well informed on this matter +yourself. Now let's have the rest of it." + +And just like that, all of a sudden, it's batted up to me. So I lets it +come, with all the details about Uncle Dudley's frosty home life, and +the reformer son out West that still thinks father is makin' good. He +sits there and listens to every word too. Not that he comes in with the +sympathetic sigh, or shows signs of being troubled by mist in the eye +corners. He just throws in an occasional grunt now and then and drums +his fat finger-tips on the chair arm. + +"Huh!" says he. "Babes and sucklings! But I've had worse advice that has +cost me a lot more. Well, I suppose an old fool like that is dangerous +to have drifting around. But I don't want him here just now, either. +Um-m-m! Where did you say this son of his lived?" + +"Just out of Los Angeles," says I. + +"All right," says Old Hickory. "Tell him he goes west Tuesday as +traveling auditor to our second vice president. He'll bring up at Los +Angeles about the middle of the month--and about that time it may happen +that he'll be retired on full pay. But I'll keep this resignation, as a +curiosity." + +Now don't ask me to describe how old Dudley takes it; for when he gets +the full partic'lars of the decision it near keels him over. And what +part of it do you say tickles him most? That the books don't have to be +juggled! + +"It wasn't like Mr. Ellins to countenance an act of that sort, not in +the least," says he, "and I am very glad that he has changed his mind." + +"Say, Dudley," says I, "you're a wonder, you are." + +And it was all I could do to keep from askin' him if he thought he owned +the only bottle of ink eradicator there was in New York. + +Do I know who did fix up them entries? Well, by the nervous motions of a +certain party next mornin', I could give a guess. + +"Piddie," says I, "if they ever get you on the stand, you want to wear +interferin' pads between your knees, so they won't hear the bones +rattle." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THROWING THE LINE TO SKID + + +Say, this is twice I've been let in wrong on Skid Mallory. Remember him, +don't you? Well, he's our young college hick that I helped steer up +against Baron Kazedky when he landed that big armor plate order. Did +they make Skid a junior partner for that, or paint his name on a private +office door? Not so you'd notice it. Maybe they was afraid a sudden +boost like that would make him dizzy. But they promotes him to the sales +department and adds ten to his pay envelope. I was most as tickled over +it as Mallory was, too. + +"Didn't I tell you?" says I. "You're a comer, you are! Why, I expect in +ten or a dozen years more you'll be sharin' in the semi-annuals and +ridin' down to the office in a taxi." + +"Perhaps I may, Torchy--in ten or a dozen years," says he, kind of slow +and sober. + +I could guess what he was thinking of then. It was the girl, that sweet +young thing that Brother Dick towed in here along last winter, some +Senator's daughter that Skid had got chummy with when he was doin' his +great quarterback act and havin' his picture printed in the sportin' +extras. + +"How's that affair comin' on?" says I; for I ain't heard him mention her +in quite some time. + +"It's all off," says he, shruggin' them wide shoulders of his. "That is, +there never was anything in it, you know, to begin with." + +"Oh, there wa'n't, eh?" says I. "Forgot all about that picture you used +to carry around in the little leather case, have you?" + +Skid, he flushes up a bit at that, and one hand goes up to his left +inside pocket. Then he laughs foolish. "It isn't I who have forgotten," +says he. + +"Oh-ho!" says I. "Well, I wouldn't have thought her the kind to shift +sudden, when she seemed so----" + +But Mallory gives me the choke off sign, and as we walks up Broadway he +gradually opens up more and more on the subject until I've got a fair +map of the situation. Seems that Sis ain't exactly set him adrift +without warnin'. He'd sort of helped cut the cable himself. She'd begun +by writin' to him every week, tellin' him all about the lively season +she was havin' in Washington, and how much fun she was gettin' out of +life. She even put in descriptions of her new dresses, and some of her +dance orders, and now and then a bridge score, or a hand painted place +card from some dinner she'd been to. + +And Skid, thinkin' it all over in the luxury of his nine by ten boudoir, +got to wonderin' what attractions along that line he could hold out to a +young lady that was used to blowin' in more for one new spring lid than +he could earn in a couple of weeks. + +"And orchids are her favorite flowers!" says he. "Ever buy any orchids, +Torchy?" + +"Not guilty," says I; "but they ain't so high, are they, that you +couldn't splurge on a bunch now and then? What's the tariff on 'em, +anyway?" + +"At times you can get real nice ones for a dollar apiece," says he. + +"Phe-e-e-ew!" says I. "She has got swell tastes." + +"It isn't her fault," says he. "She's never known anything different." + +So what does Skid do but slow up on the correspondence, skippin' an +answer here and there, and coverin' only two pages when he did write. +For one thing, he didn't have so much to tell as she did. I knew that; +for I'd seen more or less of Mallory durin' the last few months, and I +knew he was playin' his cards close to his vest. + +Not that he was givin' any real lifelike miser imitation; but he didn't +indulge in high priced cafe luncheons on Saturdays, like most of the +bunch; he'd scratched his entry at the college club; and he was soakin' +away his little surplus as fast as he got his fingers on it. + +Course, that programme meant sendin' regrets to most of the invites he +got, and spendin' his evenin's where it didn't cost much to get in or +out. One frivolous way he had of killin' time was by teachin' 'rithmetic +to a class of new landed Zinskis at a settlement house over on the East +Side. + +"Ah, what's the use?" I used to tell him. "They'd learn to do compound +interest on their fingers in a month, anyway, and the first thing you +know you'll be payin' rent to some of 'em." + +But he was pretty level headed about most things, I will say that for +Mallory, specially the way he sized up this girl business. Seems at last +she got the idea he was grouchy at her about something; and when he +didn't deny, or come to the front with any reason--why, she just quit +sendin' the billy ducks. + +"So you're never going to see her any more, eh?" says I. + +"Well," says he, "I supposed until within an hour or so ago that I never +should. And then----Well, she's here, Torchy; came yesterday, and I +presume she expects to see me to-night." + +"That's encouragin', anyway," says I. + +But Mallory don't seem so much cheered up. It turns out that Sis is +spendin' a few days with friends here, waitin' for the rest of the +fam'ly to come on and sail for Europe. They're givin' a farewell dinner +dance for her, and Skid is on the list. + +The trouble is he can't make up his mind whether to go or stay away. One +minute he's dead sure he won't, and the next minute he admits he don't +see what harm there would be in takin' one last look. + +"But, then," says Mallory, "what good would that do?" + +"I know," says I. "There's a young lady friend of mine on the other side +too. Say, Mallory, I guess we belong in the lobster class." + +And when we splits up on the corner Skid has decided against the party +proposition, and goes off towards his boardin' house with his chin down +on his collar and his heels draggin'. + +So I wa'n't prepared for the joyous smile and the frock coat regalia +that Mallory wears when he blows into the office about ten-forty-five +next forenoon. He's sportin' a spray of lilies of the valley in his +lapel, and swingin' his silver topped stick, and by the look on his +face you'd think he was hearin' the birdies sing in the treetops. + +"Tra-la-la, tra-la-lee!" says I, throwin' open the brass gate for him. +"Is it a special holiday, or what?" + +"It's a very special one," says he, thumpin' me on the back and +whisperin' husky in my ear. "Torchy, I'm married!" + +"Wha-a-at!" I splutters. "Who to? When?" + +"To Sis," says he, "half an hour ago." + +"Eh?" says I. "Mean to say you've been and eloped with the Senator's +daughter?" + +"Eloped!" says he, as though he'd never heard the word before. "Why, +no--er--that is, we just went out and--and----" + +Oh, no, they hadn't eloped! They'd merely slid out of the ballroom about +three A.M., after dancin' seventeen waltzes together, snuggled into a +hansom cab, and rode around the park until daylight talkin' it over. +Then she'd slipped back into the house, got into her travelin' dress +while he was off changin' his clothes, met again at eight o'clock, +chased down to City Hall after a license, and then dragged a young +rector away from his boiled eggs and toast to splice 'em. + +But Skid didn't call that elopin'. Why, Sis had left word with the +butler to tell her friends all about it, and the first thing they did +after it was over was to send a forty-word collect telegram to papa. +And Mallory, he'd just dropped around to arrange with Old Hickory for a +little vacation before they beat it for Atlantic City. + +"So that ain't elopin', eh?" says I. "I expect you'd call that a +sixty-yard run on a forward pass, or something like that? Well, the old +man's inside. Luck to you." + +Mallory wa'n't on the carpet long, and when he comes out I asks how he +made back. + +"Oh, bully!" says he. "I'm to have ten days." + +"With or without?" says I. + +"Oh, I forgot to ask," says he. + +Little things like bein' on the payroll or not wa'n't botherin' him +then. He gives me a bone crushin' grip and swings out to the elevator in +a rush; for he's been away from Sis nearly half an hour now. + +Exceptin' a picture postcard or two, showin' the iron pier and a bathin' +scene, I didn't hear from Mr. and Mrs. Mallory for more'n a week. And +then one afternoon I gets a 'phone message from Skid, saying that +they're all settled in a little flat up on Washington Heights and +they'll be pleased to have me come up to dinner. + +"It's our very first dinner, you know," says he, "and Sis is going to +get it all by herself. I suggested that we try the first one on you." + +"That don't scare me any," says I. "I've lived on sinkers and pie too +long to duck amateur cookin'. I'll be there." + +I was on the grin all the afternoon too, thinkin' of the joshes I was +goin' to hand him. At three minutes of closing time I was all ready to +sneak out, with one eye on the clock and the other on Piddie, when in +blows a ruby faced, thick waisted gent with partly gray hair, a +heavyweight jaw, and a keen pair of twinklin' gray eyes. He looks +prosperous and important, and he proceeds to act right to home. + +"Boy," says he, pushin' through the gate, "is this the general office of +the Corrugated Trust Company?" + +"Yep," says I. "That's what it says on the door." + +"There is employed here, I understand," he goes on, "a young man by the +name of Mallory." + +Say, I was wide awake at that. "Mallory?" says I. "I can find out. Did +you want to see him on business?" + +"It is a personal matter," says he. "Is he here?" + +"Now, let's not rush this," says I. "My orders is to find out----" + +"Very well," says the gent, "there is my card. And perhaps I should +mention that I have the honor--er--I suppose, to be his father in law." + +Say, and here I was, up against the Senator himself. Course it was my +cue to shrivel up and do the low salaam; but all I can think of at the +minute is to look him over and grin. + +"Gee!" says I. "Then you're on his trail, eh?" + +Maybe it was the grin fetched him; for them square mouth corners +flickers a little and he don't throw any fit. "Evidently you are +somewhat familiar with the circumstances," says he. "May I ask if you +are sufficiently favored with the confidence of my new son in law to +know where he and my--er--his wife happen, to be just now?" + +"I admit it," says I; "but if you're thinkin' of springin' any hammer +music on Skid, you can look for another party, for you won't get it out +of me in a thousand years!" + +"Ah!" says he. "I see Young Lochinvar has at least one champion. Allow +me to state that my intentions are pacific. My wife and I merely wish, +before sailing, to pay a formal call on our daughter and her new +husband. Now if you could give me their address----" + +"Why, say, Senator," says I, "if you ain't lookin' to start anything, I +can do better. I'm going right up there myself this minute, and if +Mrs.----" + +"She is waiting downstairs in the cab," says he. "Nothing would suit us +better." + +And, say, maybe it wa'n't just what I should have done, but blamed if I +could see how to dodge it when it's up to me that way. So it's me +climbin' up on the front seat with the driver of a fancy hotel taxi, +papa and mamma behind, and off rolls the surprise party. + +Well, you know them cut rate apartment houses, with a flossy reception +room, all marble slabs and burlap panels and no elevator. The West +Indian at the telephone exchange says we'll find the Mallorys on the top +floor back to the left. That meant four flights to climb, which might +account for the lack of conversation on the way up. Mallory, with his +coat off, his cuffs rolled back, and his face steamed up, answers the +ring himself. + +"Ah, that you, Torchy?" says he. "We were just wondering if you +would----Why--er--ah----" and as he gets sight of the old couple out in +the dark hall he breaks off sudden. + +"It's all right," says I. "He's promised to give the peace sign. You +know the Senator, don't you, Skid?" + +"The Senator!" he gasps out. + +"I believe I once had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Mallory," says the old +boy, comin' to the front graceful. "Hope you will pardon the intrusion; +but----" + +Just then, though, Sis appears from the kitchen, her face all pink and +white, and her sleeves pushed up past the dimples in her elbows. Under a +thirty-nine-cent blue and white checked apron she's wearin' a lace party +dress that was a dream. It's an odd combination; but most anything would +look well on a little queen like her. She takes one look at Skid, +another at the Senator, and then behind the old man she spies Mother. + +Well, it's just a squeal from one, and a sigh from the other, and then +they've made a rush to the center that wedges us all into that little +three-foot hall like it was the platform of a subway car, and before +anything more can be said they've gone to a fond clinch, each pattin' +the other on the back and passin' appropriate remarks. + +Somehow, I guess the Senator hadn't quite figured on this part of the +programme. I expect his plan was to be real polite and formal, stay only +long enough to let the young people know he could stand it if they +could, and then back out dignified. + +Whatever Mother might have meant to do when she started, it was all off +from the minute Sis let out that squeal. And no sooner had we got +ourselves untangled and edged sideways into the cute little parlor, than +Mother announces how she means to stay right here until it's time to +start for the steamer. Did some one say dinner! Good! She'll stay to +dinner, then. + +At that Sis looks at Skid and Skid he looks at Sis. There was some real +worry exchanged in them looks too; but young Mrs. Mallory ain't one to +be stumped as easy as that. + +"Oh, goody!" says she, clappin' her hands. "But, Mother, what is it you +do to make dumplings puff out after you've dropped them in the lamb +stew?" + +"Dumplings! Lamb stew!" says Mother. "Gracious! Don't ask me, child. I +haven't made any for years. Doesn't your cook know?" + +"She doesn't," says Sis. "I am the cook, Mother." + +Well, that was only the beginning of the revelations; for while Sis and +Mother was strugglin' with the receipt book, the Senator was makin' a +tour of inspection around the apartment. It didn't take him so long, +either. + +"Ahem!" says he to Mallory. "Very cozy, indeed; but--er--not exactly +spacious." + +"Four rooms and bath," says Mallory. + +"Was--er--that the bathtub in there?" says the Senator, jerkin' his +thumb at the bathroot door. "I fancied it might be--er--a pudding dish. +Might I inquire what rent you pay for--er--all this?" + +"Forty a month, sir," says Mallory. + +"Ah! Economy, I see. Good way to begin," says he. "And if it is not too +personal a question, your present salary is----" + +"I'm getting twenty-five a week," says Skid, lookin' him straight +between the eyes. + +"Then you have a private income, I presume?" says the Senator. + +"Well," says Mallory, "my aunt in Boston sends me fifty dollars every +Christmas and advises me to invest my savings in Government bonds." + +At that the Senator drops into a chair and whistles. "But--but how do +you expect," he goes on, "to--to----Pardon me, but I am getting +interested. I should like to know what was your exact financial standing +when you had the imp--er--when you married my daughter?" + +He gets it, down to the last nickel. Skid begins with what he had in the +bank when they starts for Atlantic City, shows the hole that trip made +in his funds, produces the receipts for furniture, and announces that, +after punglin' up a month's rent, there's something over seven dollars +left in the treasury. + +"Huh!" grunts the Senator. "Hence the lamb stew, eh? I don't wonder! So +you and Sis have undertaken to live in a forty-dollar apartment on a +twenty-five-dollar salary, have you?" + +"That's what it looks like, sir," says Mallory. + +"And who is the financial genius that is to manage this enterprise?" +says he. + +"Why," says Skid, "Mrs. Mallory, I suppose. We have agreed that she +should." + +"Sis, eh?" says the Senator, smilin' kind of grim. "Well, you have my +best wishes for your success." + +Skid he flushes some behind the ears; but he only bows and says he's +much obliged. You couldn't blame him for feelin' cut up, either; for +it's all clear how the Senator has doped out an appeal for help within +thirty days, and is willin' to wait for the call. I'm no shark on the +cost of livin' myself; but even I could figure out a deficit. There's a +call to dinner just then, though, and we all gathers round the stew. + +Anyway, it was meant for a lamb stew. The potatoes was some hard, the +gravy was so thin you'd thought it had been put in from the tea kettle +as an afterthought, and the dumplin's hadn't the puffin' out charm +worked on 'em for a cent. But the sliced carrots was kind of tasty and +went all right with the baker's bread if you left off the bargain +butter. Sis she tried to laugh at it all; but her eyes got kind of dewy +at the corners. + +"Never mind, dear," says Mother. "I'll telegraph for our old Martha to +come on and cook for you." + +"Why, certainly," says the Senator. "She could sleep on the fire escape, +you know." + +And say, that last comic jab of his, and the effect it had on Mr. and +Mrs. Mallory, kind of got under my skin. I got to thinkin' hard and +fast, and inside of five minutes I stumbles onto an idea. + +"Excuse me," says I to Skid; "but I guess I'll be on my way. I just +thought of a date I ought to keep." + +And where do you expect I brings up? At the Ellins' mansion, down on the +avenue. First time I'd ever been there out of office hours; but the maid +says Mr. Ellins is takin' his coffee in the lib'ry and she'd see if he'd +let me in. Ah, sure he did, and we gets right down to cases. + +"Remember how that assistant general manager stiff of yours fell down on +that public lands deal when you sent him to Washington last month?" says +I. + +Old Hickory chokes some on a swallow of black coffee he's just hoisted +in; but he recovers enough to nod. + +"Does he get the run?" says I. + +"I neglected consulting you about it, Torchy," says he; "but his +resignation has been called for." + +"Filled the job yet?" says I. + +"Fortunately, no," says he, and I knew by the way he squints that he +thought he was bein' mighty humorous. "Possibly you could recommend his +successor?" + +"Yep, I could," says I. "Would it help any to have some one who was son +in law to a Senator?" + +"That," says Old Hickory, "would depend somewhat on which Senator was +his father in law." + +"Well," says I, "there's his card." + +"Eh?" says he, readin' the name. "Why--who----" + +"Mallory," says I. "You know--hitched last week. He's got the old boy up +there to dinner now. Maybe he'll be taken on as the Senator's secretary +if you don't jump in quick. He's a hustler, Mallory is. Remember how he +skinned that big order out of Kazedky? And as an A. G. M. he'd be a +winner. Well, does he get it?" + +"Young man," says Old Hickory, catchin' his breath, "if my mental +machinery worked at the high pressure speed yours does, I could----But I +am not noted for being slow. I've done things in a hurry before. I can +yet. Torchy, he does get it." + +"When?" says I. + +"To-morrow morning," says he. "I'll start him at five thousand." + +"Whoop!" says I. "Say, you're a sport! I'll go up and deliver the glad +news. Guess he needs it now as much as he ever will." + +And, say, you should have seen the change of heart that comes over the +Senator when he heard the bulletin. "Mallory, my boy," says he, +"congratulations. And by the way, just remove that--er--imitation lamb +stew. Then we'll all go down to some good hotel and have a real +dinner." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +TOUCHING ON TINK TUTTLE + + +"On your way, now, on your way!" says I; gazin' haughty over the brass +gate. "No window cleanin' done here durin' office hours!" + +"But," says the specimen on the other side, "I--I didn't come to clean +the windows." + +"Eh?" says I, sizin' up the blue flannel shirt, the old leather belt, +and other marks of them pail and sponge artists. "Well, we don't want +any sash cords put in, or wirin' fixed, or any kind of jobbin' done +until after five. That's General Order No. 1. See?" + +He nods in kind of a lifeless, unexcited way; but he don't make any +motions towards beatin' it. "I--I--the fact is," he begins, "I wish to +see some one connected with the Corrugated Trust Company." + +"You've had your wish," says I. "I'm Exhibit A. For a profile view of me +step around to the left. Anything more?" + +He don't get peeved at this, nor he don't grin. He just keeps on bein' +serious and calm. "If you don't mind," says he, "I should like to see +one of the higher officials." + +"Say, that's almost neat enough to win out," says I. "One of the higher +officials, eh? How would the president suit you?" + +"If I might see him, I'd like it," says he. + +"Wha-a-a-at!" says I. + +Honest, the nerve that's wasted on some folks is a shame. I had to sit +up and give him the Old Sleuth stare at that. He's between twenty-five +and thirty, for a guess; and, say, whatever he might have been once, +he's a wreck now,--long, thin face, with the cheekbones almost stickin' +through, slumped in shoulders, bony hands, and a three months' crop of +mud colored hair stringin' damp over his ears and brushin' his coat +collar. Why, he looked more like he ought to be sittin' around the +waitin' room of some charity hospital, than tryin' to butt in on the +time of one of the busiest men in New York. + +"It's a matter that ought to go before the president," says he, "and if +he isn't busy I'd like very much to----" + +"Say, old scout," says I, "you got about as much chance of bein' let in +to see Mr. Ellins as I have of passin' for a brunette! So let's come +down to cases. Now what's it all about?" + +He ain't makin' any secret of it. He wants the concern to make him a bid +on an option he holds on some coal and iron lands. Almost comes to life +tellin' me about that option, and for the first time I notice what big, +bright, deep sunk eyes he's got. + +"Oh, a thing of that kind would have to go through reg'lar," says I. +"Wait; I'll call Mr. Piddie. He'll fix you up." + +Does he? Well, that's what Piddie's supposed to be there for; but he +don't any more'n glance at the flannel shirt before he begins to swell +up and frown and look disgusted. "No, no, go away!" says he. "I've no +time to talk to you, none at all." + +"But," says the object, "I haven't had a chance to tell you----" + +"Get out--you!" snaps Piddie, turnin' on his heel and struttin' off. + +It ain't the way he talks to parties wearin' imported Panamas and +sportin' walkin' sticks; but, then, most of us has our little fads that +way. What stirred me up, though, was the rough way he did it, and the +hopeless sag to the wreck's chin after he's heard the decision. + +"Sweet disposition he's got, eh?" says I. "But don't take him too +serious. He ain't the final word in this shop, and there's nobody gets +next to the big wheeze oftener durin' the day than yours truly. Maybe I +could get that option of yours passed on. Got the document with you?" + +He had and hands it over. With that he drops onto the reception room +settee and says he'll wait. + +"Better not," says I; "for it might be quite a spell before I gets the +right chance. We'll do this reg'lar, by mail. Now what's the name?" + +"Tuttle," says he, "Tinkham J. Tuttle." + +"They call you Tink for short, don't they?" says I, and he admits that +they do. "All right," I goes on. "Now the address, Tink. Jersey, eh? +Well, it's likely you'll hear from Mr. Ellins before the week's out. But +don't get your hopes up; for he turns down enough propositions to fill a +waste basket every day. Express elevator at No. 5. So long," and I +chokes off Mr. Tuttle's vote of thanks by wavin' him out the door. + +It's well along in the afternoon before I sees an openin' to drop this +option in front of Old Hickory, grabbin' a minute when his desk is +fairly clear, and slammin' it down just as though it had been sent in +through Piddie. + +"Delivered on," says I. "Wants rush answer by mail." + +"Huh!" grunts Old Hickory, lightin' up a fresh Cassadora. + +That's all I expected to hear of the transaction; so about an hour +later, when Piddie comes out lookin' solemn and says I'm to report to +Mr. Ellins, I don't know what's up. + +"Is it a first degree charge, Piddie," says I, "or only for +manslaughter?" + +"I presume Mr. Ellins will discover what you have done," says he. + +"Well, hope for the worst, Piddie," says I. "Here goes!" + +And the minute I sees what Old Hickory has in front of him, I'm wise. + +"Torchy," says he, givin' me the steely glitter out of them cold storage +eyes of his, "Mr. Piddie seems to know nothing about this Michigan +option." + +"If he admits that much," says I, "it must be so. It's a record, +though." + +"What I want to know," goes on Mr. Ellins, "is how in blue belted blazes +it got here. You brought it in, didn't you?" + +"Yep," says I. "It was this way, Mr. Ellins: Piddie had it put up to him +and wouldn't even hang it on the hook; but the guy that brings it looked +so mournful that I butts in and takes a chance on passin' it along to +you on my own hook." + +"Oh, you did, eh?" he snorts. + +"Sure," says I. "I got to do the fresh act once in a while, ain't I? +Course, if you want a dead one on the gate, I can hand in my portfolio; +but I thought all you had to do with punk options like this was to toss +'em in the basket and then have 'em fired back at----" + +"Fire nothing back!" says Mr. Ellins. "Why, you lucky young rascal, +we've been trying to get hold of this very property for eight months! +And Piddie! Bah! Of all the pin-headed, jelly brained----" + +"Second the motion," says I, springin' the joyous grin. + +"That will do," says Old Hickory, catchin' himself up. "Just you forget +Mr. Piddie and listen to me. Know this Tuttle person by sight, don't +you?" + +"Couldn't forget him," says I. "Want him on the carpet?" + +"I do," says he. "Have him here at ten-thirty to-morrow morning. But +find him to-night, and see that you don't open your head about this +business to anyone else." + +"I get you," says I, doin' the West Point salute. "It's me to trail and +shut up Tuttle. He'll be here, if I have to bring him in an ambulance." + +That's why I jumps out before closin' time and mingles with the Jersey +commuters in a lovely hot ride across the meadows. It's a scrubby +station where I gets off, too; one of these fact'ry settlements where +the whole population answers the seven o'clock whistle every mornin'. +There's a brick barracks half a mile long, where they make sewin' +machines or something, and snuggled close up around it is hundreds of +these four-fam'ly wooden tenements, gettin' the full benefit of the soft +coal smoke and makin' it easy for the hands to pike home for a noon +dinner. Say, you talk about the East Side double deckers; but they're +brownstone fronts compared to some of these corporation shacks across +the meadows! + +Seventeen dirty kids led me to the number Tuttle gave me, and in the +right hand first floor kitchen I finds a red faced woman in a faded blue +wrapper fryin' salt pork and cabbage. + +"Mrs. Tinkham Tuttle?" says I, holdin' my breath. + +"No," says she, glancin' suspicious over her shoulder. "I'm his sister." + +"Oh!" says I. "Is Tink around?" + +"I don't know whether he is or not, and don't care!" says she. + +"Much obliged," says I; "but I ain't come to collect for anything. +Couldn't you give a guess?" + +"If I did," says she, "I'd say he was over to the factory yard. That's +where he stays most of the time." + +It's half-past five; but the fact'ry's runnin' full blast, and I has to +jolly a timekeeper and the yard boss before I locates my man. Fin'lly, +though, they point out a big storage shed in one corner of the coal +cinder desert they has fenced in so careful. The wide double doors to +the shed are shut; but after I've hammered for a while one of 'em is +slid back a few inches and Tuttle peeks out. + +"Oh!" he gasps. "You! Say, are they going to take it? Are they?" + +"Them's the indications," says I, "providin' it's all O. K. and your +price is right." + +"Oh, I'll make the price low enough," says he. "I'll sell out for two +thousand, and it ought to be worth twice that. But two is all I need." + +"Eh?" says I. "What kind of finance do you call that? Say, Tuttle, you +know you can't work any 'phony deal on the Corrugated. Better give me +the straight goods and save trouble." + +"I will," says he. "Come in, won't you!" + +With that he leads the way through the dark shed to a sort of workshop +at the back, where there's a window. There's a tool bench, a little hand +forge with an old coffee pot and a fryin' pan on it, and a cot bed not +ten feet away. + +"Campin' out here?" says I. + +"I'm not supposed to," says he; "but the yard superintendent lets me. +This is where I've lived and worked for nearly two years, and until you +came a minute ago it was where I expected to end. But now it's +different." + +"It is?" says I. "How's that?" + +Which is Tink Tuttle's cue to open up on the story of his life. It's a +soggy, unexcitin' yarn, most of it. As I'd kind of guessed by the way he +talked, he wa'n't just an ordinary fact'ry hand. He'd been through some +high class scientific school up in Massachusetts, where he'd lived +before his father lost his grip. Seems the old man was a crackerjack +boss machinist; but he got to monkeyin' with fool inventions, drifted +from place to place, got to be a lunger, and finally passed in. The last +four years in the fact'ry here had finished him. Tink had worked there, +too, and his sister had married one of the hands. + +"It's the graveyard of the Tuttle family, this place is, I suppose," +says Tink. "It got father, and it has almost got me. Some folks can +breathe brass filings and carbon dioxide and thrive on it; but we can't. +So I gave up and hid myself away in here to work out one of my silly +dreams. Last spring I caught a bad cold, and Sister sent me West. There +we have an uncle. She thought the change of climate might help my cough. +It didn't do a bit of good; but it was out there that I picked up this +option. That was when I saw a chance of making my dream come true. You +saw what I've been building, didn't you, as we came through?" + +"I didn't notice," says I. "What is it, anyway?" + +[Illustration: "TUT, TUT," SAYS THE BOSS OF THE RESTORIUM.] + +"Wait until I light the lantern," says Tuttle. "Now come. This way. +Don't hit your head on those wings. There!" + +And, say, it's a wonder I could walk right by a thing of that kind +without gettin' next, even if it was kind of dark. But all I needs now +is one glimpse of the outlines. + +"Oho!" says I. "A flyer! Say, every bughouse in the country is at work +on one of them." + +"I suppose so," says he. "I may be as big a fool as any of them, too; +but I think I know what I'm doing. At any rate, I've put my last dollar +into it. That's why my sister is so----Well, she thinks I am----" + +"Yes, I suspicioned she was some sore on you," says I. "But what sort of +a flyer is this, double or single winger?" + +"It's a biplane," says Tuttle, "on the Farnham type, only an improved +model." + +"Of course it's improved," says I. "Tried her out yet!" + +"Hardly," says he. "I couldn't buy an engine, you see. That's what I've +been waiting for. Say, you really think the Corrugated will take that +option, do you? If they only would!" + +"You must be in a hurry to break your neck," says I. + +Before I left, though, he'd shown me all over the thing, explained how +it was goin' to work, and did his best to get me as excited as he was. +Also I makes him give me the full details of how he come to get this +option, and I advises him if he does manage to cash it in for two +thousand, to take an ax to his flying machine and hike out for some lung +preservin' climate where he'll have a chance to shake that cough. + +"Thanks," says he, grippin' my hand and chokin' up. "You--you've been +mighty good to me. I'll remember it." + +Course, I gives Mr. Ellins the whole tale in the mornin', about Tuttle +and his bum air pumps, and his batty scheme of buildin' the flyer; but +all that interests Old Hickory is the option and the price. + +"Good work, Torchy," says he. "I've wired our Western agents to +investigate, and if they report an O. K., Tuttle shall have his two +thousand to do what he likes with." + +It must have been two weeks later, and I'd almost forgot the case, when +one mornin' I gets a note from Tinkham J., askin' me to come over to the +shed as quick as I could. Well, I didn't know whether he was havin' a +final spasm or not; but it seemed like I ought to go, so that night I +does. I finds him waitin' for me at the yard gate. He don't look any +worse than usual, either. + +"Well," says I, "didn't the deal go through?" + +"It did," says he, pattin' me on the back. "Thanks to you, it did. The +check came two days later, and I've spent it all." + +"What!" says I. "You don't mean to say you blew all that in on an engine +for that blamed----" + +"All but a few dollars that I put into oil and gasoline," says he. "But +the machine is all hooked up, Torchy, and it works. Do you hear that? It +works! I've been up!" + +"Up?" says I. + +"Not far," says he; "but enough to know what I can do. Started right +here from the yard, just at daylight, and landed here again. I've told +no one else, you know. Come in and see how smooth the engine works." + +And it was just while he was gettin' ready to start the wheels that +these two strangers butts in on us. One is a husky, red faced, swell +dressed young sport, and the other is a tall, swivel eyed, middle aged +gent dressed in khaki. They walks around the machine without payin' any +attention to me or Tuttle. + +"Well, what do you think of it, Captain?" says the young sport after a +while. + +The Captain, he shakes his head. "I can't tell positively," says he; +"but these planes seem to me to be set entirely wrong. I never saw +deflectors worked on that principle before, either. The theory may be +good; but in a practical test----" + +"They say he's made flight, though," breaks in the young sport. "The +night watchman saw him. Hey! You're the chap that built this aeroplane, +aren't you?" + +"Yes, sir," says Tuttle. + +"And didn't you make a flight?" he wants to know. + +"A short one," says Tuttle. + +"That's enough for me," says the sport. "Say, you know who I am, don't +you?" + +"Oh, yes," says Tuttle. "At least, I ought to. You're Bradish Jones, +Jr., one of the owner's sons." + +"That's right," says young Mr. Jones. "And I know you. You're the son of +old Tuttle, who used to be foreman of the machine shop when I was doing +my apprentice work. Thought this little trick of yours was a secret, +didn't you? But I heard about it. Lucky for you I did, too. I'm in the +market. I don't care a hoot what the Captain says, either. I want a +flyer, and I'm ready to take a chance on yours. What do you want for +it?" + +"Why," says Tuttle, "I don't believe I want to sell." + +"What's that?" snaps Bradish. "Come, now! Don't try to bluff me! I'll +admit I'm in a hurry. These Curtiss people have been holding me off for +a month, and I want to begin flying right away. So name your price. How +much?" + +But Tuttle, he only shakes his head. + +"Oh, yes, you will," says Bradish. "Why, you've hardly a dollar to your +name. You can't afford to own a flyer, even if you did build it. You +know you can't. Now show me what it cost you, and I'll give you a +thousand for your work and a hundred a week until I learn to manage the +thing. Is it a go?" + +"No!" says Tuttle, sharp and quick, them big eyes of his fairly blazin'. +"This is my machine, and I'm going to fly it. I don't care how much +money you've got. You've taken a sudden whim that you'd like to fly. +It's been the one dream of my life. You've had your yachts and your +racing cars. I've never had anything but hard work. My father wore +himself out in your stinking old factory. I nearly did the same. But +you can't rob me of this. You sha'n't, that's all!" + +And for a minute them two stood there givin' each other the assault and +batt'ry stare, without sayin' a word. A queer lookin' pair they made, +too; this Bradish gent, big and beefy and prosperous, and Tink Tuttle, +his greasy old coat hangin' loose on his skinny shoulders, and lookin' +like he was on his way from the accident ward to the coroner's office. + +"Five thousand cash, then," growls Mr. Jones. + +"Not if you said fifty!" Tink comes back at him. + +"Bah!" says Bradish. "Why, I could have you and your machine thrown out +in the road this minute. But I'll give you twenty-four hours to think it +over. Remember, to-morrow night at six I'll be here with the money. Then +it will be either sell or go. Come, Captain," and with that they pikes +out. + +"Say, Tink," says I, "you got him comin', all right, and if you don't +get that five thousand you're no good." + +"I know I'm no good," says Tuttle. "That's why I don't want his money." + +"But see here, Tink," says I. "You ain't goin' to turn down an offer +like that, are you?" + +"I am," says he, "and I'll tell you why. It's because I know I'm no good +and never would be any good, even if I could live, which I can't. Oh, I +don't need any doctor to tell me how much longer I've got. They gave me +only three months over a year ago. I knew better. I knew I should hold +out until I finished my flyer. Father didn't have anything like that to +keep on for; so he went quicker. He didn't want to go, either. And it +was awful to watch him, Torchy, just awful! But I'm not going to finish +that way. No, not now," and he walks up to the machine and runs his +hand loving along one of the smooth planes. + +"How's that?" says I. "What are you drivin' at, Tink?" + +"I can't tell you how I shall do it exactly," says he; "for I'm not +sure. But I mean to go up once; way, way up, out over the ocean just at +sunrise. Won't that be fine, eh? Just think! Sailing off up there into +the blue; up, and up, and up; higher than anyone has ever dared to go +before, higher and higher, until your gasoline gives out and you can't +go any more!" + +"Yes; but what then?" says I, beginnin' to feel some chilly along the +spine. + +"Why, that's enough, isn't it?" says he. "Anyway, it's all I ask. I'll +call it all quits then." + +"Ah, say, cut out the tragedy!" says I. "You give me the creeps, talkin' +that rot! What you want to do is to go up for a short sail if you can, +forget to try any Hamilton stunts, and then beat it back to collect that +five thousand while the collectin's good. Say, when do you try her +again?" + +"At daylight to-morrow morning," says he. + +"Gee!" says I. "I've got a notion to stick around and watch how you come +out." + +"No, don't," says he. "I--I'll let you know. Yes, honest I will. +Goodnight and--good-by." He kept his word as well as he could, too. The +postmark on the card was six A.M.; but I guess it must have been dropped +in the box earlier than that. All it says is: + + Twenty gallons in the tank, and I'm off at four o'clock. I shall go + straight out to sea and then up, up. I've never been much good; but + I mean to finish in style. T. T. + +Now, what would you say to a batty proposition like that? I couldn't +tell whether it was a bluff, or what. And I waits four days before I had +the nerve to go and see. + +Sister says she ain't seen him since last Monday. And there was no flyer +in the shed. Nobody around the place knew what had become of it, either. + +Well, it's been two weeks since I got that postal. What do I think? Say, +honest, I don't dare. But at night, when I'm tryin' to get to sleep, I +can see Tink, sittin' in between all them wires and things, with the +wheel in his hand, and them big eyes of his gazin' down calm and +satisfied, down, down, down, and him ready to take that one last dip to +the finish. And, say, about then I pull the sheets up over my eyes and +shiver. + +"Piddie," says I, "you got more sense than you look to have. Anyway, you +know when to sidestep the nutty ones, don't you?" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +GETTING HERMES ON THE BOUNCE + + +Anybody might of thought, to see me sittin' there in the Ellins lib'ry, +leanin' back luxurious in a big red leather chair lookin' over the +latest magazines, that I'd been promoted from head office boy to heir +apparent or something like that. I expect some kids would have stood on +one leg in the front hall and held their breath; but why not make +yourself to home when you get the chance? I knew the boss was takin' his +time goin' through all them papers I'd brought up, and that when he +finished he'd send down word if there was any instructions to go back. + +That's how I come to get the benefit of all this mushy conversation that +begins to drift out from the next room. First off I couldn't make out +whether it was some one havin' a tooth plugged, or if it was a case of a +mouse bein' loose at a tea party. Course, the squeals and giggles I +could place as comin' from Miss Marjorie Ellins. Maybe you remember +about Mr. Robert's heavyweight young sister that wanted to play Juliet +once? + +But who the other party was I didn't have an idea, except that from the +"you-alls" she was usin' I knew she must hail from somewhere south of +Baltimore. + +Anyway, they seemed to be too much excited to sit down while they +talked, and the first thing I knew they'd drifted into the lib'ry, their +arms twined around each other in a reg'lar schoolgirl clinch, and the +conversation just bubblin' out of 'em free. + +Miss Marjorie was all got up classy in pink and white, and she sure does +look like a wide, corn fed Venus. The other is a slim, willowy young +lady with a lot of home grown blond hair, a cute chin dimple, and a pair +of big dark eyes with a natural rovin' disposition. And she's hobble +skirted to the point where her feet was about as much use as if they'd +been tied in a bag. + +It was some kind of a long winded story she was tellin' very +confidential, with Marjorie supplyin' the exclamation points. + +"Really, now, was he, Mildred?" says Marjorie. + +"'Deed and 'deedy, he was!" says Mildred. "Positively the handsomest man +I ever saw! I thought I could forget him; but I couldn't, Madge, I +couldn't! And only think, he is coming this very night, and not a soul +knows but just us two!" + +"Excuse me," says I; "but I'm Number Three." + +"Oh, oh!" they both squeals at once. + +"Who--who's that?" whispers Mildred. + +"Why it's only Torchy, from Papa's office," says Marjorie. "And oh, +Mildred! He is the very one to help us! You will now, won't you, Torchy? +Come, that's a dear!" + +"Please do, Torchy!" says Mildred, snugglin' up on the other side and +pattin' my red hair soothin'. + +"Ah, say, reverse English on the tootsy business!" says I. "This ain't +any heart-throb matinee. G'wan!" + +"Why, Torchy!" says Marjorie, real coaxin' "I thought we were such good +friends!" + +"Well, I'm willin' to let it go that far," says I; "but don't try to +ring in any folksy strangers. I'm here on business for the firm." + +Just then too down comes the maid sayin' there wa'n't anything to go +back; so I starts to beat it. + +I didn't get far, though, with a hundred and ninety pound young lady +blockin' the doorway. + +"Torchy, you must help us!" says Marjorie. "There isn't anyone else we +can ask. And you're always doing such clever things for Papa and Brother +Bob!" + +Say, it was a puffy lot of hot air she hands out; but I admit that after +two or three more speeches like that, and with her promisin' to square +anything Piddie might have to say about not comin' back, she had me +goin'. + +"Well, what's the proposition?" says I. + +"Let's tell him all, so he will understand just what he's to do," +suggests Marjorie. + +And, say, you should have heard them two, with me pinned in between 'em +on the couch, givin' me the tale in a sort of chorus, both talkin' to +once and beginnin' at diff'rent ends. + +"It's such a romance!" squeals Marjorie. + +"You see, he's coming to-night," says Mildred, "and nobody knows." + +"Yes, I got that all down," says I; "but what's the first part? Who is +he and where's he from?" + +Well, it's some yarn, all right! Seems that Mildred was a boardin' +school chum of Marjorie's who'd come up from Atlanta to spend the summer +with friends in Newport. As a wind-up to the season they'd taken her on +a yachtin' trip up the coast. Such a poky old trip, too! Nobody aboard +but old married folks that played bridge all the time, and one bald +headed bachelor who couldn't sit out in the moonlight with her unless he +was wrapped up in a steamer rug. + +So what was a girl with eyes like Mildred's to do, anyway? She was bein' +bored to death, when, as luck would have it, something went wrong with +the propeller shaft. The yacht was 'way up off the coast of Maine at the +time, and the nearest place where it was safe to anchor was in the lee +of a barren, dinky little island. And they stays there three whole days, +while the crew tinkers things up below and the folks yawn their heads +off. + +All but Millie. She got so desp'rate she rowed ashore all by herself. +Accordin' to her description, that must have been a perfectly punk +little island. It was all rock, except in a few spots where there was +some scrub bushes and mangy grass. Plunk in the middle was an old shack +of a house surrounded by lobster pots and racks of codfish spread out to +dry, and she says it was the smelliest scenery she'd ever got real close +to. + +But Mildred was sore on the yacht and all the stupid folks on it; so she +wanders out to windward of the worst smells, plants herself on the +flattest rock she can find, and prepares to read. That's her pose when +she looks up and discovers this male party with the sun kissed locks and +the dreamy eyes standin' there gazin' at her curious. + +"It wasn't Adonis that I called him," says Mildred. "Who was that +stunning old Greek that we had the bust of in the school library, +Madge?" + +"Hermes?" says Marjorie. + +"That's it!" says Mildred. "He was a perfect Hermes; only his curly hair +was all sun bleached, and his face was tanned a lovely brown, and he had +big, broad shoulders, and--and he was smoking a pipe." + +"And about his eyes!" prompts Marjorie. + +"Oh, they were perfectly stunning," says she, "real sea blue." + +Well, anybody that ever read a midsummer fiction number could have +supplied the next chapters. Here's the lovely city girl, the noble +browed but unsuspectin' native, golden summer days, and no competition. +Why, with a catchy title and a few mushy pictures it would make a lovely +contribution to one of the leadin' thirty-five-centers, just as it +stood. And Mildred knew her cue, all right. She trains them front row +eyes of hers on him, opens up with a few lines of lively chatter, and +inside of half an hour she has him sittin' picturesque at her feet, +callin' him Hermes of the Lobster Pots, and otherwise workin' the siren +spell. + +"You must have flirted horribly with him," says Marjorie, sighin' deep +and admirin'. + +"What else could one do?" asks Mildred. "And it was such fun! I could +get him to say hardly anything about himself; but he was a charming +listener. He would sit and gaze at me in the most soulful, appreciative +way. Poor chap!" + +He must have had her guessin' some at that; for she wa'n't dead sure +whether he was a real native or not until the boss of the island shows +up. He's a hump shouldered, leather faced, bushy browed old barnacle, +with a Down East dialect that it was a dream to listen to, and it was +only when Mildred heard Hermes call him Uncle Jerry that she could +believe the two was any relation. Uncle Jerry didn't interfere, though +He let 'em moon around on the rocks without disturbin' the game, and I +judge from Millie's report that she wa'n't missin' any tricks. + +Yet she's right there with the heartless behavior when the time comes, +sailin' away with a gay laugh and leavin' her blue eyed young lobster +man to yearn and mourn there on his smelly little island. Anyway, that's +how she had it doped out. + +And it wa'n't until weeks later, when she'd had her snapshots of him +developed and printed, and got to summin' up the details in this case of +Victim B-23, that she discovers how a few of her own heartstrings has +been strained. Somehow she couldn't seem to tear them three August days +completely off the calendar; and when the other chappies come buzzin' +around, and she had a chance to frame 'em up alongside of this fish +island hero, there wa'n't but one answer. It was Hermes for hers, every +day in the week! + +There he was, though, out on that mussy rock; and here she was, visitin' +in New York, leadin' the giddy life, and gettin' her gowns ready for the +Horse Show. If Millie had passed out the heartaches casual along her +former trails, here was where she gets at least one of 'em back on the +rebound. + +You can guess how bad an attack she had when she crosses all the new +Reggie boys off her string and cooks up this scheme of sendin' for +Hermes to come to her. Her excuse is that she wants Uncle Jerry to have +the trip of his life by coming to the great city; but incident'lly she +urges him to bring his blue eyed nephew along, and the check she sends +is big enough to cover expenses for both. Bein' one of the impulsive +kind, she does it the minute the notion strikes her; and two days later +comes this postal from Uncle Jerry, sayin' how he was much obliged, and +him and his nevvy was takin' the boat for Bosting and expected to fetch +up in New York sometime next afternoon by train. + +"Which is now," says Mildred. "But of course I can't go to the Grand +Central to meet him." + +"Why not?" says I. "Why balk at a little thing like that when you've +been doin' so well?" + +"Oh, but, Torchy," chimes in Marjorie, "you know you could do it so much +better!" + +And what with both of them coaxin', and stuffin' expense money into my +pockets, the next thing I know I'm on my way down to where the Boston +trains come in, and am campin' outside the gate. I nearly wore my eyes +out, too, sizin' up the first trainload, and after an hour's wait I was +gettin' dizzy keepin' track of the second lot, when all of a sudden I +spots this old chap with the thick underbrush over his eyes and the sole +leather complexion. + +"Oh, you Uncle Jerry!" I sings out, takin' a chance and pushin' through +the crowd with my hand out. + +"Wall, how be ye?" says he, real hearty. "Don't remember seein' you +afore; but I s'pose it's all right." + +"Sure it is, old scout," says I. "If you're Uncle Jerry, I'm Miss +Mildred's reception committee; but where's the nephew?" + +"That's him," says he, jerkin' his thumb at a big, overgrown, tow haired +yawp that's trailin' along in the rear luggin' a canvas valise. + +"You don't mean to tell me that's Hermes?" says I. + +"I dun'no 'bout any Hermes," says he; "but this is my sister's boy Jake, +the only nephew I got, and, bein' as how Miss Mildred asked so special, +I brought him along." + +Course, there's no accountin' for tastes, specially in a romantic young +lady like her; but, if this was her idea of livin' Greek statuary, she +sure was easy pleased. Why, of all the rough necked Rubes! He's one of +these loose jawed, open mouthed, lop sided youths that walks like he was +afraid of steppin' on his own feet, and looks about as much alive as a +tin rabbit that can wiggle its ears when you pull a string. His hair and +complexion was accordin' to specifications, I admit, and his eyes were +as blue as a new set of lunch counter crockery; and if he was all Uncle +Jerry could show in the nephew line, then he must be it. + +"All right," says I. "It ain't me that's pickin' him. Now fall in line +right behind me, and we'll work out where he won't get run down by +baggage trucks or be mistaken by excursionists for a spray of autumn +leaves." + +"Young lady didn't come down to the train, hey?" says Uncle Jerry. + +"No, it makes her kind of nervous to see the cars come in," says I. +"You're due to meet her this evenin', Uncle, you and Hermes." + +You see, accordin' to the plan, I was to stow the pair to some hotel, +see that they was fed, keep 'em busy durin' the early part of the +evenin', and round 'em up at a big society crush where Marjorie knew +the folks well enough so she could ask favors. If Mildred had 'em come +where she was visitin', there'd be no end of questions asked; but if she +sort of ran across 'em by accident at a place where there was a crowd, +and could have a few words with Hermes in some quiet corner, nobody +would be the wiser. + +It was this last part of the programme I had in mind as I was sizin' up +Jake's travelin' costume. And, say, how is it up there in the opodeldoc +zone that they can get these high-water pant legs to fit so much like +lengths of stovepipe? They was kind of a bilious brown and cut gen'rous +in the seat; but, as far as real comic relief went, they wa'n't in it +with the cute little short tailed cutaway that he sported above 'em. +Honest, that coat was enough to make an eccentric song and dance artist +green in the eyes! And you can believe me when I say I didn't lose any +time in scootin' 'em down Fourth-ave. to a dollar a day house patronized +by some of our swellest Texas buyers. My next move is to make a report +over the 'phone. + +"Yep, I got 'em both under lock and key," says I to Marjorie. "Trouble +to pick em out? Ah, it was a pipe! Specimens like that ain't so common +anyone could get mixed if they knew what day to look for 'em. Yes, the +nephew's along, all right. His real name is Jake. Well, Hermes if you +insist. But, say, ask Miss Mildred if she wants him delivered in the +original package, or should I hire some open face clothes for him." + +The decision is that Hermes must come in a dress suit, and if he ain't +got any with him Marjorie will send down one of Mr. Robert's old ones. + +"Oh, I'm just dying to see him in evening clothes!" gushes Mildred over +the wire. "I know he'll be perfectly splendid!" + +"Maybe," says I. "Only don't forget the collar buttons and studs for the +dress shirt." + +Say, I won't dwell on the gay time I had tryin' to keep that pair out of +sight until after dinner. Honest, if I'd been drivin' the monkey cage in +a circus parade I'd felt a lot better; for every fresh gink that pipes +off that vaudeville costume of Jake's has to have his say about it. At +the hash house where I steers 'em up against a twenty-five-cent course +dinner all the girl waiters got to gigglin' like they'd never seen a +freak before. + +It wouldn't have been so bad with just Uncle Jerry, for he's wearin' an +old black whipcord that would pass in the dark, and, outside the rubber +collar and the plated watch chain looped across his vest, he didn't have +the crossroads tag on him very plain; but Jake might as well have had +cowbells tied to him. Maybe I wa'n't some relieved too when we got back +to the hotel and found this outfit that the girls had scraped together +and sent down. + +"Now we'll fix you up for the theater and high society, Jake," says I. +"By rights you ought to have some of that neck hemp sheared off; but I +don't dare let a barber loose at you, for fear Mildred wouldn't know you +after he got through. She raved a lot about that hair of yours, Jake." + +"You go on now, Smarty!" says Jaky boy, grinnin' expansive. "Think I'm +goin' to wear duds like them?" + +"You do if you appear out again with me," says I. "So peel the butternut +regalia and lemme see if I can harness you up in these." + +"Hee-haw!" remarks Uncle Jerry. "Let him fix you up real harnsome, +Jake." + +Maybe that's what I did; but I wouldn't want to swear to it. Anyway, I +got him into the dress shirt by main strength. That was the first +struggle. Then, while Uncle Jerry held him gaspin' and groanin' on the +floor, I buttoned the high collar on and fastened the white tie. Next we +ended him up on his feet and pulled on the display vest and the long +tailed coat. + +"Ug-g-gh! It chokes somethin' awful!" says Jake, gettin' purple faced +and panicky. + +"Ah, close that pie gangway of yours and breathe natural for a minute!" +says I. "There, you're feelin' better already. Come, pull them knobby +wrists back up into your sleeves. This ain't no swimmin' lesson, you +know. Say, you wear a dress suit like it was so much tin armor. What's +the matter with you, anyway!" + +"I--I don't know," says Jake, tryin' to stretch his head up like a +turkey. "I don't like this." + +"You look it," says I. "But think who's goin' to see you in it later! +First off, though, you're goin' to a show with me. Come on, now; maybe +you'll get used to bein' dressed up by eleven o'clock." + +"'Leven o'clock!" says Uncle Jerry. "Look here, Son, I ain't in the +habit of stayin' up all night, remember. I'll be droppin' off to sleep +for sartin'." + +He don't, though. All through the play, which has been a two years' +scream for Broadway, he sat as solemn as if he was on a coroner's jury +in the presence of the remains. Play actin' was new to Uncle Jerry; but +he wa'n't going to give himself away, and he was just as wide awake as +anybody in the house. + +With Jake it was diff'rent. I expect them washed out blue eyes of his +had taken in so many new scenes since mornin' that they couldn't absorb +any more. Anyway, he gets drowsy before the curtain goes up, and after +he's twisted his neck until he's got it collar broken he settles back +for a comf'table snooze. He looks so calm and peaceful I didn't have the +heart to disturb him, and I only jabbed my elbows in his ribs when he +got to tunin' up the nose music too loud. Besides, I was hopin' a little +nap of two or three hours might leave him some refreshed and in better +shape for exhibitin' to Miss Mildred. For the more I saw of Jake, the +less I could understand how a real live one like Millie could stand for +three days of him, even if she did, discover him on a desert island. And +as for ravin' about him afterwards--well, you never can tell, can you? + +After the play it took Uncle Jerry shakin' on one side and me on the +other to bring Jake back to life from his woodsawin' act. + +"Ah, quit it and give the orchestra a chance!" says I. "And keep them +elbows down! Don't try to stretch here; wait until you get back to the +open fields for that. Yes, it's all over, and you're about to butt into +society; so for Heaven's sake come out of the trance!" + +Not havin' a stretcher handy, we drags him out to the curb, and I blows +some more of my expense account against a taxi, which lands us safe and +sound at this Fifth-ave. number up in the 70's. "Guests of Miss Marjorie +Ellins," was to be the password, and the flunky in satin pants at the +door seems to have been well posted. + +"Yes, sir; right this way, sir," says he, wavin' us down the hall and +shootin' us into a little conservatory nook. "The gentlemen from Maine +are to wait here, and you are to meet Miss Ellins at the foot of the +grand staircase. She will be down in a moment, sir." + +"I get you," says I, and, after cautionin' Jake to keep on his feet +until I came back, I slips out and posts myself behind a potted palm +where I could watch the early arrivals comin' down from the cloakrooms. + +It wa'n't a long wait; for pretty soon down floats Mildred and Marjorie, +all got up in flossy party dresses and fairly quiverin' with excitement. + +"Oh, you dear boy!" gushes Millie. "And he is really here, is he? My +splendid Hermes! Tell me, what did he have to say about it all?" + +"Who, Jake?" says I. "Mostly he was beefin' about the way his neck ached +from the collar." + +"Isn't that just like a man!" says Marjorie. + +"I don't care," says Mildred. "I am just crazy to see him once more. I +want to look into his eyes and----" + +"Then step lively," says I, "before they get glued up for good. Down +this way. Here you are, in there among the palms! See, there's Uncle +Jerry rubberin' around!" + +"Oh, yes!" squeals Millie, clappin' her hands. "Dear old Uncle Jerry! +But--but, Torchy, where is--er--his nephew?" + +"Eh?" says I. "Why, there on the bench, doin' the yawn act!" + +"Wha-a-a-at!" gasps Millie, steppin' in for a closer look. + +"Straight goods," says I. "That's Hermes the lobster picker." + +"That!" says Mildred, shrinkin' back. "Never!" + +"Huh!" says I. "I told him you wouldn't know him if he didn't keep that +face cavity of his closed. He's been doin' that since eight o'clock. But +he's the real article, serial number guaranteed by Uncle Jerry." + +"No, no!" squeals Mildred, covering her face with her hands and backin' +away. "There's been some dreadful mistake! That isn't my Hermes. He +wasn't at all like that, I tell you, not at all!" + +Well, we was grouped there in the hall holdin' our foolish debate, when +this strange gent strolls by huntin' for some place to light up his +cigarette. And just as one of us mentions Hermes again I notices him +turn and prick up his ears. Next thing I knew, he's stepped over and is +lookin' kind of smilin' and expectant at Mildred. + +"I beg pardon if I'm wrong," says he; "but isn't this the--er--ah--the +young lady whom I had the pleasure of----" + +But that's enough for Millie, just hearin' his voice. Down comes her +hands off her face. "Oh, I knew it! I knew it!" she squeals. "Hermes!" + +And, say, I don't know how that old Greek looked; but if he had the +build and lines of this chap he sure was some ornamental. Anyway, the +one we had with us would have been a medal winner in any kind of +clothes. Also he had the light wavy hair and the dark blue eyes of +Millie's description, with some of the vacation tan left on his cheeks. + +Marjorie's the next to be heard from. + +"Why, Mr. Brooke Hartley!" says she, stickin' out her hand. + +"By Jove!" says he. "Bob Ellins' little sister, eh? Hello, Marjorie!" + +"Then--then----" gasps Mildred, lookin' from one to the other kind of +dazed, "then you aren't a lobster man, after all?" + +"Nothing so useful as that, I'm afraid," says Hartley. + +"But why were you there on that island?" she insists. + +"Well," says he, "hay fever was my chief excuse. I pretend to paint +marines, you know, and that's another; but really I suppose I was just +being lazy and enjoying the society of Uncle Jerry." + +"But he isn't your uncle, truly?" says Mildred. + +"Well," says Hartley, "it's a relationship I share with most of the +summer people on that section of the Maine coast." + +Then a light seemed to break on Mildred. She blushes to her eartips and +hides her face in her hands once more. "Oh, oh!" she groans. "And I +called you Hermes!" + +"You did," says he. "And nothing ever tickled my vanity half so much. +I've lived on that for the last two months. Please don't take it back!" + +"I--I won't," says Millie, lettin' loose one of them rovin' glances at +him sort of shy and fetchin'. + +And, say, all tinted up that way, you could hardly blame him for +grabbin' both her hands. Not knowin' what might happen next, I proceeds +to break in. + +"In the meantime," says I, "what'll you have done with this perfectly +good nephew we've got on our hands back there on the bench?" + +"That one!" says Millie. "Oh, I never want to see him again! Tell him to +go away and--and go to bed." + +"That'll be welcome news for Jaky, all right," says I. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +WHEN MISS VEE THREW THE DARE + + +Say, I guess I might as well tell it right out; for, from all I hear +about myself, my dome must have a glass top that puts all the inside +works on exhibition. There's Zenobia, for instance, who's my +half-step-adopted aunt, as you might say. Now, she ain't one to sleuth +around, or cross-examine, or anything like that; but what she's missed +of this little affair that I ain't breathed a word of to anybody is +more'n I've got the nerve to ask. + +Course, it was her put that corkin' silver frame on Vee's picture in the +first place. Just found it on my bureau, you know, and, without pumpin' +me for any account of who and why, goes and unbelts reckless for the +sterling decoration. A perfectly nice old girl, Zenobia is, if you ask +me. More'n a year ago that was, and there hasn't been a word passed +about that photo since. + +Yes, it's been on the bureau all the time. Why not? When a young lady +friend of yours is dragged off to Europe by her aunt, and sends you a +stunnin' picture of herself for you to remember her by, you don't turn +it face to the wall or chuck it in the ashcan, do you? Maybe two years +it would be, she said, before she came back. It ain't so long to look +over your shoulder at; but when you come to try squintin' ahead that far +it's diff'rent. I tried it and gave it up. A whole lot can happen in two +years; so what was the use? Besides, look who she is, and then think of +all I ain't! + +Couldn't help seein' the picture there night and mornin', though, could +I? Nothin' mushy about glancin' casual at it now and then, was there? +You know I ain't got any too many friends,--not so many I has to have a +waitin' list,--and outside of Zenobia and Aunt Martha, and here and +there one of the lady typewriters at the office that throws me a smile +on and off, they're mostly men. And as for fam'ly, mother, or father, or +sisters, or brothers, or real aunts--well, you know how I'm fixed. I'm +the whole fam'ly myself. + +So you see, when I looks at Miss Vee there, and thinks how nice she was +to me them two times when we met by accident,--once at the dance where I +was subbin' in the cloakroom, and again at the tea where I'd been sent +to trail Mr. Robert--well, even if she hadn't been such a queen, I don't +think I'd forgot her right away. Course, though, as for figurin' out +why she ever noticed me at all, that's a myst'ry I had to pass up. + +Must have been soon after she went away that I begun sizin' up some +critical the gen'ral style and get up of the party whose hair I was +combin' and whose face I was washin' more or less reg'lar. Startin' with +the collar, I discovered that mine gen'rally had saw edges, gaped in the +middle, and got some soiled about the third day. From then on I've been +particular about havin' a close front collar and puttin' on a fresh one +every mornin', whether I need it or not. Next I got wise to the fact +that one tie wouldn't last more'n six months without showin' signs of +wear, and it wa'n't long before I had quite a collection hangin' over +the gasjet. Up to then I didn't have the tooth powder habit very strong; +but it's chronic with me now. See the result? + +I didn't stop to give myself reasons for gettin' so finicky; but the one +main fact loomin' up ahead seemed to be that some day or other Miss Vee +would be comin' back, and that maybe I might be on hand to sort +of--well, you know how you'll frame things up? I was to be vice +president of the Corrugated by that time, most likely, and they'd be +sendin' me abroad to look up important matters. That's how it was goin' +to happen that I'd find out where Vee was stayin'. Not that I'd think of +buttin' in on her and the aunt. Not much! Just remember I'd seen Aunty! + +No, I was to be on the steamer, leanin' over the rail careless, when +they came aboard to go home. I was to be costumed all in gray. I don't +know just why; but it looks kind of distinguished, specially if you've +got gray hair. Not that I could count on my ruddy thatch frostin' up +much in a couple of years; but somehow nothing but gray seemed to fill +the bill. I'd planned on gettin' one of them gray tweed suits such as +Mr. Robert wears back from London, and a long gray ulster that'd make me +look tall, and a gray cloth hat to match, and gray gloves. Get the +picture? + +Well, there I am by the rail, lookin' sort of distinguished and bored +and all that, when up comes Miss Vee and Aunty. All I could think of Vee +wearin' was that pink silk affair she had on at the dance, which +wouldn't be exactly what a young lady'd start out on an ocean trip with, +would it? + +She'd be some jarred at seein' me, it's likely; but I'd lift the gray +lid real dignified, throw back the ulster so she'd get the full effect +of the tweed suit, and shoot off some remark about how "one always meets +one's most chawming friends when one travels." Then I'd be presented to +the aunt; and after that was over, why it would be just a romp down the +home stretch, with yours truly all the entry in sight. Simply a case of +me and Vee promenadin' the deck by moonlight for hours and hours, and +gettin' to be real old friends. + +But pipe dreams like that don't often come true, do they? I ain't got so +far as ownin' a pair of gray gloves, and not a word has been said about +makin' me vice president, when along comes this foreign picture +postcard, showin' the Boss de Bologna on one side, and on the other this +scribbled message: + + We sail for home on the 10th. Rah! Rah! Count Schlegelhessen is + coming over with us. He's a dear. V. A. H. + +Jolted! Say, I was up and down so many times durin' the next few hours +I'd most meet myself comin' and goin'. Miss Vee was on her way over! I'd +bounce at that thought, and get all kind of warmed up inside. Count +Schutzenfest is coming with her, and he's a dear! Bang! I'd strike +bottom again, with a chilly feelin' under my vest. + +Wa'n't anything more'n I might have looked for, of course. Aunty's one +of the kind that would pick out a Count for Miss Vee, and there was +plenty of Counts over there to be picked; but somehow I couldn't picture +Vee goin' wild over one of them foreign ginks. It was clear she had, +though. There it was on the postcard, "He's a dear!" + +"Huh!" thinks I. "Most of 'em are dear--at any price." + +It wa'n't for hours, either, that I simmers down enough for the thought +to strike me that I didn't have any special license to hold a court of +inquiry over whether Miss Vee was comin' back with a Count or not. After +that I had time to debate with myself whether I ought just to forgive +and forget, goin' through life cold and sad; or if I should hide my +busted heart the best way I could and pretend I didn't care. + +Was there any use in my goin' down to the pier and standin' in the +background to watch her come ashore with her dear Count? I could see +myself! Oh, yes, I had it all doped out along them lines! As Robert +Mantell would put it over, "She has went out of muh life for-r-r-rever." +Ah yes! I could have stood for anything but one of them sausage Counts. + +So I stows her picture away in the bottom bureau drawer, burns the +postcard, and dodges Zenobia's eye when she looks at me curious. It was +all over. Yet I knew to an hour when her steamer would dock, and the +mornin' of the day it was due I rolls out of the feathers at six A.M. +Just as natural as could be too, I gets out the new safety razor I'd had +hid away for a couple of months past, and inside of fifteen minutes I'd +had my first shave. Does that get by them keen eyes of Zenobia! Not for +a minute! + +"Ah!" says she, pattin' me sort of casual on one cheek as she comes down +to breakfast. + +That's all; but she not only takes in the shave, but the best blue serge +suit I've put on, and the birthday tie, and the Sunday shoes. I only +grins sheepish and slides out as soon as I can. + +You see, accordin' to my plans, I wouldn't have gone near that steamer +for any sum you could name. That being the case, it was odd I should +call up the pier and find out if the boat was on time at Quarantine. +Also it was some strange the way I opened up on Piddie. + +"Say, Mr. Piddie," says I, "any prospects of an outside run for me +to-day?" + +"Not in the least," says he. "I suppose, though, you would like a chance +to waste some of the company's time on the street?" + +"Me?" says I. "Why, I'd hate it. I was only afraid I'd have to go, with +all this inside work to be done." + +"Humph!" says he. "You needn't fear. I shall see that nothing of the +sort happens." + +"Ah, you're a bird, you are!" says I. + +"Perhaps," says Piddie. + +"Then climb a tree and twitter," says I; for it made me grouchy to think +I'd let a bonehead like him get a rise out of me. + +The more I chewed it over, though, the stronger I was for breakin' loose +about dockin' time. Maybe I didn't want to go to the pier; but if he was +bent on throwin' the gate on me, that was another proposition. I got +sorer and sorer and I was on the point of chuckin' the job at Piddie's +head and walkin' out on my own hook, when who should come stormin' in, +scowlin' and grumblin' to himself, but Mr. Robert. And he had a worse +attack than I did. + +"Torchy," says he, wheelin' around halfway to his office, "ring up Pier +Umpty-nine and find out when that blasted steamer is due." + +"The Kaiser boat?" says I. "She'll dock about two-forty-five." + +"Eh?" says he, some startled. "Now, how the----Never mind, though. Sure +about the time, are you?" + +"Yep," says I. + +"Dash it all!" says he. "That's Marjorie, though! Any word from the +Consolidated Bridge people yet?" + +"Not yet," says I, and slam goes his door. + +Took me three minutes by the clock to dope out the combination too, +which shows how gummed up my gears was. But when I'd fitted them two +remarks together, about Marjorie and the bridge people, and had +remembered the cablegram from Sister Marjorie sayin' how their party'd +been broken up on account of sickness and she was comin' home +alone--why, it was all like readin' it off a bulletin. Marjorie's +arrivin' durin' business hours was likely to mess up the schedule. +Course, if the bridge concern didn't send word---- + +I'd got to that point, when in drifts my old A. D. T. runnin' mate, +Hunch Leary, draggin' his feet behind him and chewin' gum industrious. +Now Hunch don't look like a tempter. He's plain homely, that's all. But +comin' just as he did, with Piddie over there glarin' at me +suspicious--well, I just had to do it. + +"Sure I got blanks on me?" says Hunch. "Wot then?" + +Right under Piddie's nose he fixes it up too, and waits while I takes +the phony message in to Mr. Robert. It wa'n't such a raw one, either; +not as if it had sent him off to wait at some hotel. "Will try to get +around about two-thirty Trimble," was all it said. And how did we know +Trimble wouldn't try, anyway? + +"That settles it," says Mr. Robert, crumplin' the yellow sheet. "Torchy, +you must do the family honors." + +"Do which?" says I, with business of great surprise. + +"Meet my sister Marjorie, see that she gets through the customs without +landing in jail, and take her home in a taxi. Think you're equal to it, +eh?" says he. + +"I could make a stab," says I. + +"I'll risk that much," says he. + +And before there's any chance for a revise I've marched by Piddie with +my tongue out and am pikin' towards the North River with a pier pass in +one pocket and expense money in another, specially commissioned to meet +the very steamer that's bringin' in Miss Vee and her Count. All of which +shows how curious things will coincide if you use your bean a little to +help 'em along. + +Well, you know how it is waitin' in a push of people for a steamer. +Everybody's excited and anxious and keyed up, ready to jump at every +whistle, and stretchin' their necks for a peek down the river. It's as +catchin' as the baseball fever when you're in a mob watchin' the scores +posted. I finds myself actin' just as eager as any, and me only doin' +messenger work. + +Finally the boat shows up; but instead of sailin' in graceful and +prompt, she shuts off steam and lays to out in the middle of the river, +about as lifeless as a storage warehouse afloat, while a dozen or so +dinky tugs begin pushin' and pullin' to get her somewhere near the pier. +Then folks start makin' wild guesses as to which is their friends. + +"There's Uncle Fred, Willie!" squeals a fat woman next to me, proddin' +me vigorous in the ribs. + +"Not mine, ma'am," says I. + +"Oh, excuse me," says she. "Why, there's Willie, over there. Hey, +Willie! See Uncle Fred?" + +It was that way all around me, and me not even doin' the wave act. After +awhile though, I spots Marjorie. There was no doubt about it being her; +for she looms up among that crowd along the rail like a prize Florida +orange in a basket of lemons. It's plain Marjorie ain't lost any weight +by her trip abroad, and she looks more like a corn fed Juliet than ever. + +As she wa'n't expectin' me, but was huntin' for Brother Robert, I didn't +see the sense in shoutin'. I went on lookin' over the rest of the +passengers, sort of bracin' myself for any discovery I might make. Would +they show up arm in arm, or with their heads close together, or how? + +I'd looked the boat over from bow to stern and back again about three +times before I happens to take another glance at Marjorie. And there, +almost hid by one side of her, was a young lady in a white sailor hat +with some straw colored hair showin' under the wide brim, and a pair of +gray eyes that I couldn't mistake anywhere. It was Vee, all right; just +as slim and graceful and classy as ever, with the same independent tilt +to her chin, and the same Mayflower pink showin' in her cheeks. + +And, say, I want to tell you that about then I was glad I came! It +didn't make any difference if there was half a dozen Counts, and a Duke +and what not besides; just seein' her once more, even if I didn't get a +chance to put over a word, was worth while. And right there I makes up +my mind that, Count or no Count, I'm goin' to push to the front. + +"Oh, you Miss Vee!" I megaphones through my hands, just as enthusiastic +as anybody on the pier. + +About the third call catches her ear. She sort of starts and gazes at +the crowd kind of puzzled. There's such a mob, though, she don't pick me +out. I could see her turn to Marjorie and say something, and then I gets +wise to the fact that the four-eyed gent with the bristly hair and the +half gray set of shavin' brush mustaches, standin' next to Marjorie, was +one of their party. Miss Vee leans over and passes along some remark to +him, and he shrugs his shoulders and says something that makes 'em both +laugh. + +"If that's the Count," thinks I, "he's a punk specimen." + +A couple of minutes later the boat comes alongside and the passengers +break away from the rail to get in line for the gangplank. As I'm there +to welcome Miss Marjorie Ellins, I has to post myself near the E +section, and inside of fifteen minutes she's all through havin' her +suitcase and steamer trunk pawed over, and leavin' the hold baggage to +be claimed later, we streams out to where I had a cab waitin'. + +"Is it all aboard, Miss Marjorie?" says I. + +"Not yet," says she. "You see, I've asked Vee to come home with me for +dinner--the girl I met on the steamer. You don't mind waiting, do you?" + +Did I? Say, nobody would suspect it, I guess, by the grin I had on when +she and Aunty and the four-eyed party comes trailin' out. + +"Say, Miss Marjorie," says I, "is that Count Schutzenbund?" + +"Schlegelhessen," says Marjorie, "and he's a perfect----" + +"Yes, I've heard he was," says I. "Little antique, though, ain't he?" + +"Why, he isn't forty!" says Marjorie. "And he's just too----" + +There wa'n't time for any more bouquets, though; for the trio was too +close. Must have been some of a surprise for Vee to see me waitin' +there, and for a bit she don't seem to make out just who it is. That +only lasts a second, though. Then them gray eyes of hers lights up, and +them thin lips curls into a smile, and she holds out both hands in that +quick way of hers. + +"Why, it's Torchy, isn't it?" says she, half laughin'. + +"Uh-huh," says I, lettin' the grin spread wider. "Can't shake the name +or the hair." + +"Never try," says she. "Look, Aunty, here's Torchy!" + +"Torchy?" says the wide old girl, inspectin' me doubtful through her +lorgnette. "Why, Verona, I don't remember----" + +"Oh, yes, you do, Aunty," says Miss Vee. "Anyway, I've told you about +him, and it's so jolly to have some one to meet us. Thank you, Torchy. +Now let's see, Marjorie, how do we divide up? Aunty goes to her +hotel--and--and where do you go, Count?" + +"Me, I am--what you call--perplex," says the Count, and he sure looked +it. "But where the young ladies go, there I will follow. _Hein?_" + +He shrugs his shoulders again and puts on such a comical face that it's +no wonder the girls giggled. And that one act maps out the Count for me. +He's just one of them middle aged cut-ups that's amusin' to have around, +if the sessions ain't too frequent. Follow the young ladies, would he? +Say, there was only three inside seats to my taxi, and I hadn't planned +on ridin' with the driver. + +"Lemme fix that for you, Count," says I. "Hey, Cabby!" and I whistles up +a second taxi. "What's the number, ma'am?" I asks of Aunty. "Oh, +Perzazzer hotel. Get that, Mr. Shuffer? Here you are, Count, right in +here!" + +"But is it that--er--the young ladies, you see," he protests. "I haf +bromise myself the bleasure to----" + +"Yes, that'll be all right too," says I. "They'll do the followin', +though, about a block behind. In you go, now!" and I shoves him +alongside of Aunty, shuts the door, and gives the startin' signal. + +Maybe it was a nervy thing, shuntin' the Count off like that, and +Marjorie seems sort of disappointed and dazed to find he ain't comin' +with us, but by the twinkle in Miss Vee's eyes I guessed I hadn't +overplayed my part. Anyway, we had a nice chatty ride on the way up, +with Marjorie doin' most of the chattin'. Looked like that was going to +be about as far as I'd figure too, for there wa'n't a chance of my +gettin' a word in edgewise; but when we fetched up in front of the +Ellins' house Miss Vee breaks in with delay orders. + +"No, Marjorie," says she; "you first. Run in and see if it's all right; +and if there isn't a dinner party on, or a houseful of guests, I'll +come. No, I shall wait until you do." + +Course, she didn't plan it that way; but it gives me about six minutes +that was all to the good. + +"You didn't mind my sidetrackin' the Count, eh?" says I. + +"It was lovely--and perfectly absurd!" says Vee. "You know he bores +Aunty to death, and Aunty bores him. He had planned on meeting +Marjorie's mother, too." + +"Then I mussed things up, didn't I?" says I. + +"I believe you did it purposely, you wretch!" says she, shakin' a finger +at me. + +"Who wouldn't?" says I. "See what I get by it!" + +"Silly!" says she. "I've a mind to rumple those red curls." + +"Go on," says I, takin' my hat off. "They'd wiggle for joy." + +"Then I'll do nothing of the kind," says she. "You haven't even said you +were glad to see me." + +"I'm keepin' it a dead secret," says I. "What happened to Europe; was it +on the fritz?" + +"Poky," says she. "And they found out I was no musical genius, after +all. Aunty's disgusted with me." + +"She ought to take something for her taste," says I. + +"Oh!" says she, tiltin' her head on one side. "Then you still approve of +me?" + +"That's the only motto on my wall," says I, "only I put it stronger." + +"Silly!" says she once more. + +And then--well, I was watchin' the pink spread up her cheeks, and was +sort of gazin' into them big gray eyes, and gen'rally takin' one of them +long, lingerin' looks; and we was both leanin' back not so very far +apart, with the slides of the cab shuttin' everything else out--and then +all of a sudden I heard her sort of whisper "Well?"--and--and--Ah, say! +With a pair of cherry ripes as close as that, what else was there to do? + +"Why, Torchy!" says she, jumpin' away. "What made you dare----Quick, +now, here comes Marjorie. Over on the front seat! And--and perhaps I +shall see you again sometime." + +"Your eyesight'll be bad if you don't, Vee," says I. "Good-by." + +Just before the Ellins' front door closed behind her I caught the wave +of a handkerchief; so I guess she can't be so awful mad. Ride back to +the office? Say, I paid off the taxi and floated down Fifth-ave. as +light as if it was paved with gas balloons. + +"Huh!" grunts Mr. Robert, after I'd made my report. "Brought home a +steamer friend, did she? Who did you say it was?" + +"Well, between you and me," says I, "it's Vee. You remember--the one at +the girls' boardin' school tea party when----" + +"Eh?" says he. "Ah, that one? Then it wasn't--er--exactly a hardship for +you to meet this particular steamer, eh, Torchy?" + +"Do I look it?" says I. + +And Mr. Robert he winks back; for, as I happen to know, he's been there +himself. It's that friendly wink though, that makes me remember puttin' +up that game on him with the fake message, and somehow I felt cheap and +mean. Here he was, treatin' me white and square, and I'd been handin' +him a piece of fresh bunk. + +"Mr. Robert," says I, standin' pigeontoed and flushin' up some, "you +remember that message from the bridge people--Trimble, it was signed?" + +"Oh, yes," says he. "He came, all right, about a quarter to three." + +"Gee!" says I, and walks out. + +For when things start comin' your way in clusters like that, what's the +use tryin' to duck? + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +EDGAR RICE BURROUGH'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +TARZAN THE UNTAMED + +Tells of Tarzan's return to the life of the ape-man in his search for +vengeance on those who took from him his wife and home. + + +JUNGLE TALES OF TARZAN + +Records the many wonderful exploits by which Tarzan proves his right to +ape kingship. + + +A PRINCESS OF MARS + +Forty-three million miles from the earth--a succession of the weirdest +and most astounding adventures in fiction. John Carter, American, finds +himself on the planet Mars, battling for a beautiful woman, with the +Green Men of Mars, terrible creatures fifteen feet high, mounted on +horses like dragons. + + +THE GODS OF MARS + +Continuing John Carter's adventures on the Planet Mars, in which he does +battle against the ferocious "plant men," creatures whose mighty tails +swished their victims to instant death, and defies Issus, the terrible +Goddess of Death, whom all Mars worships and reveres. + + +THE WARLORD OF MARS + +Old acquaintances, made in the two other stories, reappear, Tars Tarkas, +Tardos Mors and others. There is a happy ending to the story in the +union of the Warlord, the title conferred upon John Carter, with Dejah +Thoris. + + +THUVIA, MAID OF MARS + +The fourth volume of the series. The story centers around the adventures +of Carthoris, the son of John Carter and Thuvia, daughter of a Martian +Emperor. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD'S STORIES OF ADVENTURE + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +THE RIVER'S END + +A story of the Royal Mounted Police. + + +THE GOLDEN SNARE + +Thrilling adventures in the Far Northland. + + +NOMADS OF THE NORTH + +The story of a bear-cub and a dog. + + +KAZAN + +The tale of a "quarter-strain wolf and three-quarters husky" torn +between the call of the human and his wild mate. + + +BAREE, SON OF KAZAN + +The story of the son of the blind Grey Wolf and the gallant part he +played in the lives of a man and a woman. + + +THE COURAGE OF CAPTAIN PLUM + +The story of the King of Beaver Island, a Mormon colony, and his battle +with Captain Plum. + + +THE DANGER TRAIL + +A tale of love, Indian vengeance, and a mystery of the North. + + +THE HUNTED WOMAN + +A tale of a great fight in the "valley of gold" for a woman. + + +THE FLOWER OF THE NORTH + +The story of Fort o' God, where the wild flavor of the wilderness is +blended with the courtly atmosphere of France. + + +THE GRIZZLY KING + +The story of Thor, the big grizzly. + + +ISOBEL + +A love story of the Far North. + + +THE WOLF HUNTERS + +A thrilling tale of adventure in the Canadian wilderness. + + +THE GOLD HUNTERS + +The story of adventure in the Hudson Bay wilds. + + +THE COURAGE OF MARGE O'DOONE + +Filled with exciting incidents in the land of strong men and women. + + +BACK TO GOD'S COUNTRY + +A thrilling story of the Far North. 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