335 files changed, 27868 insertions, 0 deletions

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/26528-8.txt b/26528-8.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..48c15ac
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-8.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,8779 @@
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Odd Numbers, by Sewell Ford, Illustrated by
+F. Vaux Nicholson
+
+
+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: Odd Numbers
+       Being Further Chronicles of Shorty McCabe
+
+
+Author: Sewell Ford
+
+
+
+Release Date: September 4, 2008  [eBook #26528]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ODD NUMBERS***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Project Gutenberg Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 26528-h.htm or 26528-h.zip:
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/6/5/2/26528/26528-h/26528-h.htm)
+      or
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/6/5/2/26528/26528-h.zip)
+
+
+
+
+
+ODD NUMBERS
+
+Being Further Chronicles of Shorty McCabe
+
+by
+
+SEWELL FORD
+
+Author of
+Trying Out Torchy, Etc.
+
+Illustrations by F. Vaux Wilson
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "'SISTERS? DO WE LOOK IT?' SAYS MAISIE"]
+
+
+
+
+New York
+Grosset & Dunlap
+Publishers
+
+Copyright, 1908, 1909, 1910, 1911, by Sewell Ford
+Copyright, 1912, by Edward J. Clode
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+CHAPTER                               PAGE
+     I.  Goliah and the Purple Lid       1
+    II.  How Maizie Came Through        17
+   III.  Where Spotty Fitted In         35
+    IV.  A Grandmother Who Got Going    50
+     V.  A Long Shot on DeLancey        67
+    VI.  Playing Harold Both Ways       84
+   VII.  Cornelia Shows Some Class     100
+  VIII.  Doping Out an Odd One         116
+    IX.  Handing Bobby a Blank         134
+     X.  Marmaduke Slips One Over      151
+    XI.  A Look In on the Goat Game    167
+   XII.  Mrs. Truckles' Broad Jump     183
+  XIII.  Heiney Takes the Gloom Cure   199
+   XIV.  A Try-Out for Toodleism       214
+    XV.  The Case of the Tiscotts      230
+   XVI.  Classing Tutwater Right       246
+  XVII.  How Hermy Put It Over         262
+ XVIII.  Joy Riding with Aunty         279
+   XIX.  Turning a Trick for Beany     294
+
+
+
+ODD NUMBERS
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+GOLIAH AND THE PURPLE LID
+
+
+One of my highbrow reg'lars at the Physical Culture Studio, a gent that
+mixes up in charity works, like organizin' debatin' societies in the deaf
+and dumb asylums, was tellin' me awhile back of a great scheme of his to
+help out the stranger in our fair village. He wants to open public
+information bureaus, where a jay might go and find out anything he wanted
+to know, from how to locate a New Thought church, to the nearest place
+where he could buy a fresh celluloid collar.
+
+"Get the idea?" says he. "A public bureau where strangers in New York
+would be given courteous attention, friendly advice, and that sort of
+thing."
+
+"What's the use?" says I. "Ain't I here?"
+
+Course, I was just gettin' over a josh. But say, it ain't all a funny
+dream, either. Don't a lot of 'em come my way? Maybe it's because I'm so
+apt to lay myself open to the confidential tackle. But somehow, when I
+see one of these tourist freaks sizin' me up, and lookin' kind of dazed
+and lonesome, I can't chuck him back the frosty stare. I've been a stray
+in a strange town myself. So I gen'rally tries to seem halfway human, and
+if he opens up with some shot on the weather, I let him get in the
+follow-up questions and take the chances.
+
+Here the other day, though, I wa'n't lookin' for anything of the kind. I
+was just joltin' down my luncheon with a little promenade up the sunny
+side of Avenue V, taking in the exhibits--things in the show windows and
+folks on the sidewalks--as keen as if I'd paid in my dollar at some
+ticket office.
+
+And say, where can you beat it? I see it 'most every day in the year, and
+it's always new. There's different flowers in the florists' displays, new
+flags hung out on the big hotels, and even the chorus ladies in the
+limousines are changed now and then.
+
+I can't figure out just what it was landed me in front of this millinery
+window. Gen'rally I hurry by them exhibits with a shudder; for once I got
+gay and told Sadie to take her pick, as this one was on me; and it was
+months before I got over the shock of payin' that bill. But there I finds
+myself, close up to the plate glass, gawpin' at a sample of what can be
+done in the hat line when the Bureau of Obstructions has been bought off
+and nobody's thought of applyin' the statute of limitations.
+
+It's a heliotrope lid, and the foundation must have used up enough straw
+to bed down a circus. It has the dimensions and general outlines of a
+summerhouse. The scheme of decoration is simple enough, though. The top
+of this heliotrope summerhouse has been caught in a heliotrope fog,
+that's all. There's yards and yards of this gauzy stuff draped and puffed
+and looped around it, with only a wide purple ribbon showin' here and
+there and keepin' the fog in place.
+
+Well, all that is restin' careless in a box, the size of a quarter-mile
+runnin' track, with the cover half off. And it's a work of art in itself,
+that box,--all Looey Cans pictures, and a thick purple silk cord to tie
+it up with. Why, one glimpse of that combination was enough to make me
+clap my hand over my roll and back away from the spot!
+
+Just then, though, I notices another gent steppin' up for a squint at the
+monstrosity, and I can't help lingerin' to see if he gets the same kind
+of a shock. He's sort of a queer party, too,--short, stoop shouldered,
+thin faced, wrinkled old chap, with a sandy mustache mixed some with
+gray, and a pair of shrewd little eyes peerin' out under bushy brows.
+Anybody could spot him as a rutabaga delegate by the high crowned soft
+hat and the back number ulster that he's still stickin' to, though the
+thermometer is way up in the eighties.
+
+But he don't seem to shy any at the purple lid. He sticks his head out
+first this way and then that, like a turtle, and then all of a sudden he
+shoots over kind of a quizzin' glance at me. I can't help but give him
+the grin. At that his mouth corners wrinkle up and the little gray eyes
+begin to twinkle.
+
+"Quite a hat, eh?" he chuckles.
+
+"It's goin' some in the lid line," says I.
+
+"I expect that's a mighty stylish article, though," says he.
+
+"That's the bluff the store people are makin'," says I, "and there's no
+law against it."
+
+"What would be your guess on the price of that there, now?" says he,
+edging up.
+
+"Ah, let's leave such harrowin' details to the man that has to pay for
+it," says I. "No use in our gettin' the chilly spine over what's marked
+on the price ticket; that is, unless you're thinking of investin'," and
+as I tips him the humorous wink I starts to move off.
+
+But this wa'n't a case where I was to get out so easy. He comes right
+after me. "Excuse me, neighbor," says he; "but--but that's exactly what I
+was thinking of doing, if it wasn't too infernally expensive."
+
+"What!" says I, gazin' at him; for he ain't the kind of citizen you'd
+expect to find indulgin' in such foolishness. "Oh, well, don't mind my
+remarks. Go ahead and blow yourself. You want it for the missus, eh?"
+
+"Ye-e-es," he drawls; "for--for my wife. Ah--er--would it be asking too
+much of a stranger if I should get you to step in there with me while I
+find out the price?"
+
+"Why," says I, lookin' him over careful,--"why, I don't know as I'd want
+to go as far as---- Well, what's the object?"
+
+"You see," says he, "I'm sort of a bashful person,--always have
+been,--and I don't just like to go in there alone amongst all them women
+folks. But the fact is, I've kind of got my mind set on having that hat,
+and----"
+
+"Wife ain't in town, then?" says I.
+
+"No," says he, "she's--she isn't."
+
+"Ain't you runnin' some risks," says I, "loadin' up with a lid that may
+not fit her partic'lar style of beauty?"
+
+"That's so, that's so," says he. "Ought to be something that would kind
+of jibe with her complexion and the color of her hair, hadn't it?"
+
+"You've surrounded the idea," says I. "Maybe it would be safer to send
+for her to come on."
+
+"No," says he; "couldn't be done. But see here," and he takes my arm and
+steers me up the avenue, "if you don't mind talking this over, I'd like
+to tell you a plan I've just thought out."
+
+Well, he'd got me some int'rested in him by that time. I could see he
+wa'n't no common Rube, and them twinklin' little eyes of his kind of got
+me. So I tells him to reel it off.
+
+"Maybe you never heard of me," he goes on; "but I'm Goliah Daggett, from
+South Forks, Iowy."
+
+"Guess I've missed hearin' of you," says I.
+
+"I suppose so," says he, kind of disappointed, though. "The boys out
+there call me Gol Daggett."
+
+"Sounds most like a cussword," says I.
+
+"Yes," says he; "that's one reason I'm pretty well known in the State.
+And there may be other reasons, too." He lets out a little chuckle at
+that; not loud, you know, but just as though he was swallowin' some joke
+or other. It was a specialty of his, this smothered chuckle business. "Of
+course," he goes on, "you needn't tell me your name, unless----"
+
+"It's a fair swap," says I. "Mine's McCabe; Shorty for short."
+
+"Yes?" says he. "I knew a McCabe once. He--er--well, he----"
+
+"Never mind," says I. "It's a big fam'ly, and there's only a few of us
+that's real credits to the name. But about this scheme of yours, Mr.
+Daggett?"
+
+"Certainly," says he. "It's just this: If I could find a woman who looked
+a good deal like my wife, I could try the hat on her, couldn't I? She'd
+do as well, eh?"
+
+"I don't know why not," says I.
+
+"Well," says he, "I know of just such a woman; saw her this morning in my
+hotel barber shop, where I dropped in for a haircut. She was one of
+these--What do you call 'em now?"
+
+"Manicure artists?" says I.
+
+"That's it," says he. "Asked me if I didn't want my fingers manicured;
+and, by jinks! I let her do it, just to see what it was like. Never felt
+so blamed foolish in my life! Look at them fingernails, will you? Been
+parin' 'em with a jackknife for fifty-seven years; and she soaks 'em out
+in a bowl of perfumery, jabs under 'em with a little stick wrapped in
+cotton, cuts off all the hang nails, files 'em round at the ends, and
+polishes 'em up so they shine as if they were varnished! He, he! Guess
+the boys would laugh if they could have seen me."
+
+"It's one experience you've got on me," says I. "And this manicure lady
+is a ringer for Mrs. Daggett, eh?"
+
+"Well, now," says he, scratchin' his chin, "maybe I ought to put it that
+she looks a good deal as Mrs. Daggett might have looked ten or fifteen
+years ago if she'd been got up that way,--same shade of red hair, only
+not such a thunderin' lot of it; same kind of blue eyes, only not so wide
+open and starry; and a nose and chin that I couldn't help remarking.
+Course, now, you understand this young woman was fixed up considerable
+smarter than Mrs. Daggett ever was in her life."
+
+"If she's a manicure artist in one of them Broadway hotels," says I, "I
+could guess that; specially if Mrs. Daggett's always stuck to Iowa."
+
+"Yes, that's right; she has," says Daggett. "But if she'd had the same
+chance to know what to wear and how to wear it----Well, I wish she'd had
+it, that's all. And she wanted it. My, my! how she did hanker for such
+things, Mr. McCabe!"
+
+"Well, better late than never," says I.
+
+"No, no!" says he, his voice kind of breakin' up. "That's what I want to
+forget, how--how late it is!" and hanged if he don't have to fish out a
+handkerchief and swab off his eyes. "You see," he goes on, "Marthy's
+gone."
+
+"Eh?" says I. "You mean she's----"
+
+He nods. "Four years ago this spring," says he. "Typhoid."
+
+"But," says I, "how about this hat?"
+
+"One of my notions," says he,--"just a foolish idea of mine. I'll tell
+you. When she was lying there, all white and thin, and not caring whether
+she ever got up again or not, a new spring hat was the only thing I could
+get her to take an interest in. She'd never had what you might call a
+real, bang-up, stylish hat. Always wanted one, too. And it wasn't because
+I was such a mean critter that she couldn't have had the money. But you
+know how it is in a little place like South Forks. They don't have 'em in
+stock, not the kind she wanted, and maybe we couldn't have found one
+nearer than Omaha or Chicago; and someway there never was a spring when I
+could seem to fix things so we could take the trip. Looked kind of
+foolish, too, traveling so far just to get a hat. So she went without,
+and put up with what Miss Simmons could trim for her. They looked all
+right, too, and I used to tell Marthy they were mighty becoming; but all
+the time I knew they weren't just--well, you know."
+
+Say, I never saw any specimens of Miss Simmons' art works; but I could
+make a guess. And I nods my head.
+
+"Well," says Daggett, "when I saw that Marthy was kind of giving up, I
+used to coax her to get well. 'You just get on your feet once, Marthy,'
+says I, 'and we'll go down to Chicago and buy you the finest and
+stylishest hat we can find in the whole city. More than that, you shall
+have a new one every spring, the very best.' She'd almost smile at that,
+and half promise she'd try. But it wasn't any use. The fever hadn't left
+her strength enough. And the first thing I knew she'd slipped away."
+
+Odd sort of yarn to be hearin' there on Fifth-ave. on a sunshiny
+afternoon, wa'n't it? And us dodgin' over crossin's, and duckin' under
+awnin's, and sidesteppin' the foot traffic! But he keeps right close to
+my elbow and gives me the whole story, even to how they'd agreed to use
+the little knoll just back of the farmhouse as a burial plot, and how she
+marked the hymns she wanted sung, and how she wanted him to find someone
+else as soon as the year was out.
+
+"Which was the only thing I couldn't say yes to," says Daggett. "'No,
+Marthy,' says I, 'not unless I can find another just like you.'--'You'll
+be mighty lonesome, Goliah,' says she, 'and you'll be wanting to change
+your flannels too early.'--'Maybe so,' says I; 'but I guess I'll worry
+along for the rest of the time alone.' Yes, sir, Mr. McCabe, she was a
+fine woman, and a patient one. No one ever knew how bad she wanted lots
+of things that she might of had, and gave up. You see, I was pretty deep
+in the wheat business, and every dollar I could get hold of went to
+buying more reapers and interests in elevator companies and crop options.
+I was bound to be a rich man, and they say I got there. Yes, I guess I am
+fairly well fixed."
+
+It wa'n't any chesty crow, but more like a sigh, and as we stops on a
+crossing to let a lady plutess roll by in her brougham, Mr. Daggett he
+sizes up the costume she wore and shakes his head kind of regretful.
+
+"That's the way Marthy should have been dressed," says he. "She'd have
+liked it. And she'd liked a hat such as that one we saw back there; that
+is, if it's the right kind. I've been buying 'em kind of careless,
+maybe."
+
+"How's that?" says I.
+
+"Oh!" says he, "I didn't finish telling you about my fool idea. I've been
+getting one every spring, the best I could pick out in Chicago, and
+carrying it up there on the knoll where Marthy is--and just leaving it.
+Go on now, Mr. McCabe; laugh if you want to. I won't mind. I can almost
+laugh at myself. Of course, Marthy's beyond caring for hats now. Still, I
+like to leave 'em there; and I like to think perhaps she does know, after
+all. So--so I want to get that purple one, providing it would be the
+right shade. What do you say?"
+
+Talk about your nutty propositions, eh? But honest, I didn't feel even
+like crackin' a smile.
+
+"Daggett," says I, "you're a true sport, even if you have got a few bats
+in the loft. Let's go back and get quotations on the lid."
+
+"I wish," says he, "I could see it tried on that manicure young woman
+first. Suppose we go down and bring her up?"
+
+"What makes you think she'll come?" says I.
+
+"Oh, I guess she will," says he, quiet and thoughtful. "We'll try,
+anyway."
+
+And say, right there I got a new line on him. I could almost frame up how
+it was he'd started in as a bacon borrowin' homesteader, and got to be
+the John D. of his county. But I could see he was up against a new deal
+this trip. And as it was time for me to be gettin' down towards 42d-st.
+anyway, I goes along. As we strikes the hotel barber shop I hangs up on
+the end of the cigar counter while Daggett looks around for the young
+woman who'd put the chappy polish on his nails.
+
+"That's her," says he, pointing out a heavyweight Titian blonde in the
+far corner, and over he pikes.
+
+I couldn't help admirin' the nerve of him; for of all the l'ongoline
+queens I ever saw, she's about the haughtiest. Maybe you can throw on the
+screen a picture of a female party with a Lillian Russell shape, hair
+like Mrs. Leslie Carter's, and an air like a twelve-dollar cloak model
+showin' off a five hundred-dollar lace dress to a bookmaker's bride.
+
+Just as Daggett tiptoes up she's pattin' down some of the red puffs that
+makes the back of her head look like a burnin' oil tank, and she swings
+around languid and scornful to see who it is that dares butt in on her
+presence. All the way she recognizes him is by a little lift of the
+eyebrows.
+
+I don't need to hear the dialogue. I can tell by her expression what
+Daggett is saying. First there's a kind of condescendin' curiosity as he
+begins, then she looks bored and turns back to the mirror, and pretty
+soon she sings out, "What's that?" so you could hear her all over the
+shop. Then Daggett springs his proposition flat.
+
+"Sir!" says she, jumpin' up and glarin' at him.
+
+Daggett tries to soothe her down; but it's no go.
+
+"Mr. Heinmuller!" she calls out, and the boss barber comes steppin' over,
+leavin' a customer with his face muffled in a hot towel. "This person,"
+she goes on, "is insulting!"
+
+"Hey?" says Heinmuller, puffin' out his cheeks. "Vos iss dot?"
+
+And for a minute it looked like I'd have to jump in and save Daggett from
+being chucked through the window. I was just preparin' to grab the boss
+by the collar, too, when Daggett gets in his fine work. Slippin' a ten
+off his roll, he passes it to Heinmuller, while he explains that all he
+asked of the lady was to try on a hat he was thinkin' of gettin' for his
+wife.
+
+"That's all," says he. "No insult intended. And of course I expect to
+make it worth while for the young lady."
+
+I don't know whether it was the smooth "young lady" business, or the
+sight of the fat roll that turned the trick; but the tragedy is declared
+off. Inside of three minutes the boss tells Daggett that Miss Rooney
+accepts his apology and consents to go if he'll call a cab.
+
+"Why, surely," says he. "You'll come along, too, won't you, McCabe?
+Honest, now, I wouldn't dare do this alone."
+
+"Too bad about that shy, retirin' disposition of yours!" says I. "Afraid
+she'll steal you, eh?"
+
+But he hangs onto my sleeve and coaxes me until I give in. And we sure
+made a fine trio ridin' up Fifth-ave. in a taxi! But you should have seen
+'em in the millinery shop as we sails in with Miss Rooney, and Daggett
+says how he'd like a view of that heliotrope lid in the window. We had
+'em guessin', all right.
+
+Then they gets Miss Rooney in a chair before the mirror, and fits the
+monstrosity on top of her red hair. Well, say, what a diff'rence it does
+make in them freak bonnets whether they're in a box or on the right head!
+For Miss Rooney has got just the right kind of a face that hat was built
+to go with. It's a bit giddy, I'll admit; but she's a stunner in it. And
+does she notice it any herself? Well, some!
+
+"A triumph!" gurgles the saleslady, lookin' from one to the other of us,
+tryin' to figure out who she ought to play to.
+
+"It's a game combination, all right," says I, lookin' wise.
+
+"I only wish----" begins Daggett, and then swallows the rest of it. In a
+minute he steps up and says it'll do, and that the young lady is to pick
+out one for herself now.
+
+"Oh, how perfectly sweet of you!" says Miss Rooney, slippin' him a smile
+that should have had him clear through the ropes. "But if I am to have
+any, why not this?" and she balances the heliotrope lid on her fingers,
+lookin' it over yearnin' and tender. "It just suits me, doesn't it?"
+
+Then there's more of the coy business, aimed straight at Daggett. But
+Miss Rooney don't quite put it across.
+
+"That's going out to Iowy with me," says he, prompt and decided.
+
+"Oh!" says Miss Rooney, and she proceeds to pick out a white straw with a
+green ostrich feather a yard long. She was still lookin' puzzled, though,
+as we put her into the cab and started her back to the barber shop.
+
+"Must have set you back near a hundred, didn't they?" says I, as Daggett
+and I parts on the corner.
+
+"Almost," says he. "But it's worth it. Marthy would have looked mighty
+stylish in that purple one. Yes, yes! And when I get back to South Forks,
+the first thing I do will be to carry it up on the knoll, box and all,
+and leave it there. I wonder if she'll know, eh?"
+
+There wa'n't any use in my tellin' him what I thought, though. He wa'n't
+talkin' to me, anyway. There was a kind of a far off, batty look in his
+eyes as he stood there on the corner, and a drop of brine was tricklin'
+down one side of his nose. So we never says a word, but just shakes
+hands, him goin' his way, and me mine.
+
+"Chee!" says Swifty Joe, when I shows up, along about three o'clock, "you
+must have been puttin' away a hearty lunch!"
+
+"It wa'n't that kept me," says I. "I was helpin' hand a late one to
+Marthy."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+HOW MAIZIE CAME THROUGH
+
+
+Then again, there's other kinds from other States, and no two of 'em
+alike. They float in from all quarters, some on ten-day excursions, and
+some with no return ticket. And, of course, they're all jokes to us at
+first, while we never suspicion that all along we may be jokes to them.
+
+And say, between you and me, we're apt to think, ain't we, that all the
+rapid motion in the world gets its start right here in New York? Well,
+that's the wrong dope. For instance, once I got next to a super-energized
+specimen that come in from the north end of nowhere, and before I was
+through the experience had left me out of breath.
+
+It was while Sadie and me was livin' at the Perzazzer hotel, before we
+moved out to Rockhurst-on-the-Sound. Early one evenin' we was sittin', as
+quiet and domestic as you please, in our twelve by fourteen cabinet
+finished dinin' room on the seventh floor. We was gazin' out of the open
+windows watchin' a thunder storm meander over towards Long Island, and
+Tidson was just servin' the demitasses, when there's a ring on the
+'phone. Tidson, he puts down the tray and answers the call.
+
+"It's from the office, sir," says he. "Some one to see you, sir."
+
+"Me?" says I. "Get a description, Tidson, so I'll know what to expect."
+
+At that he asks the room clerk for details, and reports that it's two
+young ladies by the name of Blickens.
+
+"What!" says Sadie, prickin' up her ears. "You don't know any young women
+of that name; do you, Shorty?"
+
+"Why not?" says I. "How can I tell until I've looked 'em over?"
+
+"Humph!" says she. "Blickens!"
+
+"Sounds nice, don't it?" says I. "Kind of snappy and interestin'. Maybe
+I'd better go down and----"
+
+"Tidson," says Sadie, "tell them to send those young persons up here!"
+
+"That's right, Tidson," says I. "Don't mind anything I say."
+
+"Blickens, indeed!" says Sadie, eyin' me sharp, to see if I'm blushin' or
+gettin' nervous. "I never heard you mention any such name."
+
+"There's a few points about my past life," says I, "that I've had sense
+enough to keep to myself. Maybe this is one. Course, if your
+curiosity----"
+
+"I'm not a bit curious, Shorty McCabe," she snaps out, "and you know it!
+But when it comes to----"
+
+"The Misses Blickens," says Tidson, holdin' back the draperies with one
+hand, and smotherin' a grin with the other.
+
+Say, you couldn't blame him. What steps in is a couple of drippy females
+that look like they'd just been fished out of a tank. And bein' wet
+wa'n't the worst of it. Even if they'd been dry, they must have looked
+bad enough; but in the soggy state they was the limit.
+
+They wa'n't mates. One is tall and willowy, while the other is short and
+dumpy. And the fat one has the most peaceful face I ever saw outside of a
+pasture, with a reg'lar Holstein-Friesian set of eyes,--the round, calm,
+thoughtless kind. The fact that she's chewin' gum helps out the dairy
+impression, too. It's plain she's been caught in the shower and has
+sopped up her full share of the rainfall; but it don't seem to trouble
+her any.
+
+There ain't anything pastoral about the tall one, though. She's alive all
+the way from her runover heels to the wiggly end of the limp feather that
+flops careless like over one ear. She's the long-waisted, giraffe-necked
+kind; but not such a bad looker if you can forget the depressin' costume.
+It had been a blue cheviot once, I guess; the sort that takes on seven
+shades of purple about the second season. And it fits her like a damp
+tablecloth hung on a chair. Her runnin' mate is all in black, and you
+could tell by the puckered seams and the twisted sleeves that it was an
+outfit the village dressmaker had done her worst on.
+
+Not that they gives us much chance for a close size-up. The lengthy one
+pikes right into the middle of the room, brushes a stringy lock of hair
+off her face, and unlimbers her conversation works.
+
+"Gosh!" says she, openin' her eyes wide and lookin' round at the rugs and
+furniture. "Hope we haven't pulled up at the wrong ranch. Are you Shorty
+McCabe?"
+
+"Among old friends, I am," says I, "Now if you come under----"
+
+"It's all right, Phemey," says she, motionin' to the short one. "Sit
+down."
+
+"Sure!" says I. "Don't mind the furniture. Take a couple of chairs."
+
+"Not for me!" says the tall one. "I'll stand in one spot and drip, and
+then you can mop up afterwards. But Phemey, she's plumb tuckered."
+
+"It's sweet of you to run in," says I. "Been wadin' in the park lake, or
+enjoyin' the shower?"
+
+"Enjoying the shower is good," says she; "but I hadn't thought of
+describing it that way. I reckon, though, you'd like to hear who we
+are."
+
+"Oh, any time when you get to that," says I.
+
+"That's a joke, is it?" says she. "If it is, Ha, ha! Excuse me if I don't
+laugh real hearty. I can do better when I don't feel so much like a
+sponge. Maizie May Blickens is my name, and this is Euphemia Blickens."
+
+"Ah!" says I. "Sisters?"
+
+"Do we look it?" says Maizie. "No! First cousins on the whiskered side.
+Ever hear that name Blickens before?"
+
+"Why--er--why----" says I, scratchin' my head.
+
+"Don't dig too deep," says Maizie. "How about Blickens' skating rink in
+Kansas City?"
+
+"Oh!" says I. "Was it run by a gent they called Sport Blickens?"
+
+"It was," says she.
+
+"Why, sure," I goes on. "And the night I had my match there with the
+Pedlar, when I'd spent my last bean on a month's trainin' expenses, and
+the Pedlar's backer was wavin' a thousand-dollar side bet under my nose,
+this Mr. Blickens chucked me his roll and told me to call the bluff."
+
+"Yes, that was dad, all right," says Maizie.
+
+"It was?" says I. "Well, well! Now if there's anything I can do for----"
+
+"Whoa up!" says Maizie. "This is no grubstake touch. Let's get that off
+our minds first, though I'm just as much obliged. It's come out as dad
+said. Says he, 'If you're ever up against it, and can locate Shorty
+McCabe, you go to him and say who you are.' But this isn't exactly that
+kind of a case. Phemey and I may look a bit rocky and---- Say, how do we
+look, anyway? Have you got such a thing as a----"
+
+"Tidson," says Sadie, breakin' in, "you may roll in the pier glass for
+the young lady." Course, that reminds me I ain't done the honors.
+
+"Excuse me," says I. "Miss Blickens, this is Mrs. McCabe."
+
+"Howdy," says Maizie. "I was wondering if it wasn't about due. Goshety
+gosh! but you're all to the peaches, eh? And me----"
+
+Here she turns and takes a full length view of herself. "Suffering
+scarecrows! Say, why didn't you put up the bars on us? Don't you look,
+Phemey; you'd swallow your gum!"
+
+But Euphemia ain't got any idea of turnin' her head. She has them
+peaceful eyes of hers glued to Sadie's copper hair, and she's contented
+to yank away at her cud. For a consistent and perseverin' masticator, she
+has our friend Fletcher chewed to a standstill. Maizie is soon satisfied
+with her survey.
+
+"That'll do, take it away," says she. "If I ever get real stuck on
+myself, I'll have something to remember. But, as I was sayin', this is no
+case of an escape from the poor farm. We wore these Hetty Green togs when
+we left Dobie."
+
+"Dobie?" says I.
+
+"Go on, laugh!" says Maizie. "Dobie's the biggest joke and the slowest
+four corners in the State of Minnesota, and that's putting it strong.
+Look at Phemey; she's a native."
+
+Well, we looked at Phemey. Couldn't help it. Euphemia don't seem to mind.
+She don't even grin; but just goes on workin' her jaws and lookin'
+placid.
+
+"Out in Dobie that would pass for hysterics," says Maizie. "The only way
+they could account for me was by saying that I was born crazy in another
+State. I've had a good many kinds of hard luck; but being born in Dobie
+wasn't one of the varieties. Now can you stand the story of my life?"
+
+"Miss Blickens," says I, "I'm willin' to pay you by the hour."
+
+"It isn't so bad as all that," says she, "because precious little has
+ever happened to me. It's what's going to happen that I'm living for.
+But, to take a fair start, we'll begin with dad. When they called him
+Sport Blickens, they didn't stretch their imaginations. He was all
+that--and not much else. All I know about maw is that she was one of
+three, and that I was born in the back room of a Denver dance hall. I've
+got a picture of her, wearing tights and a tin helmet, and dad says she
+was a hummer. He ought to know; he was a pretty good judge.
+
+"As I wasn't much over two days old when they had the funeral, I can't
+add anything more about maw. And the history I could write of dad would
+make a mighty slim book. Running roller skating rinks was the most
+genteel business he ever got into, I guess. His regular profession was
+faro. It's an unhealthy game, especially in those gold camps where they
+shoot so impetuous. He got over the effects of two .38's dealt him by a
+halfbreed Sioux; but when a real bad man from Taunton, Massachusetts,
+opened up on him across the table with a .45, he just naturally got
+discouraged. Good old dad! He meant well when he left me in Dobie and had
+me adopted by Uncle Hen. Phemey, you needn't listen to this next
+chapter."
+
+Euphemia, she misses two jaw strokes in succession, rolls her eyes at
+Maizie May for a second, and then strikes her reg'lar gait again.
+
+"Excuse her getting excited like that," says Maizie; "but Uncle Hen--that
+was her old man, of course--hasn't been planted long. He lasted until
+three weeks ago. He was an awful good man, Uncle Hen was--to himself. He
+had the worst case of ingrowing religion you ever saw. Why, he had a
+thumb felon once, and when the doctor came to lance it Uncle Hen made him
+wait until he could call in the minister, so it could be opened with
+prayer.
+
+"Sundays he made us go to church twice, and the rest of the day he talked
+to us about our souls. Between times he ran the Palace Emporium; that is,
+he and I and a half baked Swede by the name of Jens Torkil did. To look
+at Jens you wouldn't have thought he could have been taught the
+difference between a can of salmon and a patent corn planter; but say,
+Uncle Hen had him trained to make short change and weigh his hand with
+every piece of salt pork, almost as slick as he could do it himself.
+
+"All I had to do was to tend the drygoods, candy, and drug counters, look
+after the post-office window, keep the books, and manage the telephone
+exchange. Euphemia had the softest snap, though. She did the housework,
+planted the garden, raised chickens, fed the hogs, and scrubbed the
+floors. Have I got the catalogue right, Phemey?"
+
+Euphemia blinks twice, kind of reminiscent; but nothin' in the shape of
+words gets through the gum.
+
+"She has such an emotional nature!" says Maizie. "Uncle Hen was like that
+too. But let's not linger over him. He's gone. The last thing he did was
+to let go of a dollar fifty in cash that I held him up for so Phemey and
+I could go into Duluth and see a show. The end came early next day, and
+whether it was from shock or enlargement of the heart, no one will ever
+know.
+
+"It was an awful blow to us all. We went around in a daze for nearly a
+week, hardly daring to believe that it could be so. Jens broke the spell
+for us. One morning I caught him helping himself to a cigar out of the
+two-fer box. 'Why not?' says he. Next Phemey walks in, swipes a package
+of wintergreen gum, and feeds it all in at once. She says, 'Why not?'
+too. Then I woke up. 'You're right,' says I. 'Enjoy yourself. It's time.'
+Next I hints to her that there are bigger and brighter spots on this
+earth than Dobie, and asks her what she says to selling the Emporium and
+hunting them up. 'I don't care,' says she, and that was a good deal of a
+speech for her to make. 'Do you leave it to me?' says I. 'Uh-huh,' says
+she. 'We-e-e-ough!' says I," and with that Maizie lets out one of them
+backwoods college cries that brings Tidson up on his toes.
+
+"I take it," says I, "that you did."
+
+"Did I?" says she. "Inside of three days I'd hustled up four different
+parties that wanted to invest in a going concern, and before the week was
+over I'd buncoed one of 'em out of nine thousand in cash. Most of it's in
+a certified check, sewed inside of Phemey, and that's why we walked all
+the way up here in the rain. Do you suppose you could take me to some
+bank to-morrow where I could leave that and get a handful of green bills
+on account? Is that asking too much?"
+
+"Considering the way you've brushed up my memory of Sport Blickens," says
+I, "it's real modest. Couldn't you think of something else?"
+
+"If that had come from Mrs. McCabe," says she, eyin' Sadie kind of
+longin', "I reckon I could."
+
+"Why," says Sadie, "I should be delighted."
+
+"You wouldn't go so far as to lead two such freaks as us around to the
+stores and help us pick out some New York clothes, would you?" says she.
+
+"My dear girl!" says Sadie, grabbin' both her hands. "We'll do it
+to-morrow."
+
+"Honest?" says Maizie, beamin' on her. "Well, that's what I call right
+down decent. Phemey, do you hear that? Oh, swallow it, Phemey, swallow
+it! This is where we bloom out!"
+
+And say, you should have heard them talkin' over the kind of trousseaus
+that would best help a girl to forget she ever came from Dobie.
+
+"You will need a neat cloth street dress, for afternoons," says Sadie.
+
+"Not for me!" says Maizie. "That'll do all right for Phemey; but when it
+comes to me, I'll take something that rustles. I've worn back number
+cast-offs for twenty-two years; now I'm ready for the other kind. I've
+been traveling so far behind the procession I couldn't tell which way it
+was going. Now I'm going to give the drum major a view of my back hair.
+The sort of costumes I want are the kind that are designed this afternoon
+for day after to-morrow. If it's checks, I'll take two to the piece; if
+it's stripes, I want to make a circus zebra look like a clipped mule. And
+I want a change for every day in the week."
+
+"But, my dear girl," says Sadie, "can you afford to----"
+
+"You bet I can!" says Maizie. "My share of Uncle Hen's pile is forty-five
+hundred dollars, and while it lasts I'm going to have the lilies of the
+field looking like the flowers you see on attic wall paper. I don't care
+what I have to eat, or where I stay; but when it comes to clothes, show
+me the limit! But say, I guess it's time we were getting back to our
+boarding-house. Wake up, Phemey!"
+
+Well, I pilots 'em out to Fifth-ave., stows 'em into a motor stage, and
+heads 'em down town.
+
+"Whew!" says Sadie, when I gets back. "I suppose that is a sample of
+Western breeziness."
+
+"It's more'n a sample," says I. "But I can see her finish, though. Inside
+of three months all she'll have left to show for her wad will be a trunk
+full of fancy regalia and a board bill. Then it will be Maizie hunting a
+job in some beanery."
+
+"Oh, I shall talk her out of that nonsense," says Sadie. "What she ought
+to do is to take a course in stenography and shorthand."
+
+Yes, we laid out a full programme for Maizie, and had her earnin' her
+little twenty a week, with Phemey keepin' house for both of 'em in a nice
+little four-room flat. And in the mornin' I helps her deposit the
+certified check, and then turns the pair over to Sadie for an assault on
+the department stores, with a call at a business college as a finish for
+the day, as we'd planned.
+
+When I gets home that night I finds Sadie all fagged out and drinkin'
+bromo seltzer for a headache.
+
+"What's wrong?" says I.
+
+"Nothing," says Sadie; "only I've been having the time of my life."
+
+"Buying tailor made uniforms for the Misses Blickens?" says I.
+
+"Tailor made nothing!" says Sadie. "It was no use, Shorty, I had to give
+in. Maizie wanted the other things so badly. And then Euphemia declared
+she must have the same kind. So I spent the whole day fitting them out."
+
+"Got 'em something sudden and noisy, eh?" says I.
+
+"Just wait until you see them," says Sadie.
+
+"But what's the idea?" says I. "How long do they think they can keep up
+that pace? And when they've blown themselves short of breath, what
+then?"
+
+"Heaven knows!" says Sadie. "But Maizie has plans of her own. When I
+mentioned the business college, she just laughed, and said if she
+couldn't do something better than pound a typewriter, she'd go back to
+Dobie."
+
+"Huh!" says I. "Sentiments like that has got lots of folks into
+trouble."
+
+"And yet," says Sadie, "Maizie's a nice girl in her way. We'll see how
+she comes out."
+
+We did, too. It was a couple of weeks before we heard a word from either
+of 'em, and then the other day Sadie gets a call over the 'phone from a
+perfect stranger. She says she's a Mrs. Herman Zorn, of West End-ave.,
+and that she's givin' a little roof garden theater party that evenin', in
+honor of Miss Maizie Blickens, an old friend of hers that she used to
+know when she lived in St. Paul and spent her summers near Dobie. Also
+she understood we were friends of Miss Blickens too, and she'd be pleased
+to have us join.
+
+"West End-ave.!" says I. "Gee! but it looks like Maizie had been able to
+butt in. Do we go, Sadie?"
+
+"I said we'd be charmed," says she. "I'm dying to see how Maizie will
+look."
+
+I didn't admit it, but I was some curious that way myself; so about
+eight-fifteen we shows up at the roof garden and has an usher lead us to
+the bunch. There's half a dozen of 'em on hand; but the only thing worth
+lookin' at was Maizie May.
+
+And say, I thought I could make a guess as to somewhere near how she
+would frame up. The picture I had in mind was a sort of cross between a
+Grand-st. Rebecca and an Eighth-ave. Lizzie Maud,--you know, one of the
+near style girls, that's got on all the novelties from ten bargain
+counters. But, gee! The view I gets has me gaspin'. Maizie wa'n't near;
+she was two jumps ahead. And it wa'n't any Grand-st. fashion plate that
+she was a livin' model of. It was Fifth-ave. and upper Broadway. Talk
+about your down-to-the-minute costumes! Say, maybe they'll be wearin'
+dresses like that a year from now. And that hat! It wa'n't a dream; it
+was a forecast.
+
+"We saw it unpacked from the Paris case," whispers Sadie.
+
+All I know about it is that it was the widest, featheriest lid I ever saw
+in captivity, and it's balanced on more hair puffs than you could put in
+a barrel. But what added the swell, artistic touch was the collar. It's a
+chin supporter and ear embracer. I thought I'd seen high ones, but this
+twelve-inch picket fence around Maizie's neck was the loftiest choker I
+ever saw anyone survive. To watch her wear it gave you the same
+sensations as bein' a witness at a hanging. How she could do it and keep
+on breathin', I couldn't make out; but it don't seem to interfere with
+her talkin'.
+
+Sittin' close up beside her, and listenin' with both ears stretched and
+his mouth open, was a blond young gent with a bristly Bat Nelson
+pompadour. He's rigged out in a silk faced tuxedo, a smoke colored, open
+face vest, and he has a big yellow orchid in his buttonhole. By the way
+he's gazin' at Maizie, you could tell he approved of her from the ground
+up. She don't hesitate any on droppin' him, though, when we arrives.
+
+"Hello!" says she. "Ripping good of you to come. Well, what do you think?
+I've got some of 'em on, you see. What's the effect?"
+
+"Stunning!" says Sadie.
+
+"Thanks," says Maizie. "I laid out to get somewhere near that. And, gosh!
+but it feels good! These are the kind of togs I was born to wear. Phemey?
+Oh, she's laid up with arnica bandages around her throat. I told her she
+mustn't try to chew gum with one of these collars on."
+
+"Say, Maizie," says I, "who's the Sir Lionel Budweiser, and where did you
+pick him up?"
+
+"Oh, Oscar!" says she. "Why, he found me. He's from St. Paul, nephew of
+Mrs. Zorn, who's visiting her. Brewer's son, you know. Money? They've got
+bales of it. Hey, Oscar!" says she, snappin' her finger. "Come over here
+and show yourself!"
+
+And say, he was trained, all right. He trots right over.
+
+"Would you take him, if you was me?" says Maizie, turnin' him round for
+us to make an inspection. "I told him I wouldn't say positive until I had
+shown him to you, Mrs. McCabe. He's a little under height, and I don't
+like the way his hair grows; but his habits are good, and his allowance
+is thirty thousand a year. How about him? Will he do?"
+
+"Why--why----" says Sadie, and it's one of the few times I ever saw her
+rattled.
+
+"Just flash that ring again, Oscar," says Maizie.
+
+"O-o-oh!" says Sadie, when Oscar has pulled out the white satin box and
+snapped back the cover. "What a beauty! Yes, Maizie, I should say that,
+if you like Oscar, he would do nicely."
+
+"That goes!" says Maizie. "Here, Occie dear, slide it on. But remember:
+Phemey has got to live with us until I can pick out some victim of
+nervous prostration that needs a wife like her. And for goodness' sake,
+Occie, give that waiter an order for something wet!"
+
+"Well!" says Sadie afterwards, lettin' out a long breath. "To think that
+we ever worried about her!"
+
+"She's a little bit of all right, eh?" says I. "But say, I'm glad I ain't
+Occie, the heir to the brewery. I wouldn't know whether I was engaged to
+Maizie, or caught in a belt."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+WHERE SPOTTY FITTED IN
+
+
+Also we have a few home-grown varieties that ain't listed frequent. And
+the pavement products are apt to have most as queer kinks to 'em as those
+from the plowed fields. Now take Spotty.
+
+"Gee! what a merry look!" says I to Pinckney as he floats into the studio
+here the other day. He's holdin' his chin high, and he's got his stick
+tucked up under his arm, and them black eyes of his is just sparklin'.
+"What's it all about?" I goes on. "Is it a good one you've just
+remembered, or has something humorous happened to one of your best
+friends?"
+
+"I have a new idea," says he, "that's all."
+
+"All!" says I. "Why, that's excuse enough for declarin' a gen'ral
+holiday. Did you go after it, or was it delivered by mistake? Can't you
+give us a scenario of it?"
+
+"Why, I've thought of something new for Spotty Cahill," says he,
+beamin'.
+
+"G'wan!" says I. "I might have known it was a false alarm. Spotty Cahill!
+Say, do you want to know what I'd advise you to do for Spotty next?"
+
+No, Pinckney don't want my views on the subject. It's a topic we've
+threshed out between us before; also it's one of the few dozen that we
+could debate from now until there's skatin' on the Panama Canal, without
+gettin' anywhere. I've always held that Spotty Cahill was about the most
+useless and undeservin' human being that ever managed to exist without
+work; but to hear Pinckney talk you'd think that long-legged,
+carroty-haired young loafer was the original party that philanthropy was
+invented for.
+
+Now, doing things for other folks ain't one of Pinckney's strong points,
+as a rule. Not that he wouldn't if he thought of it and could find the
+time; but gen'rally he has too many other things on his schedule to
+indulge much in the little deeds of kindness game. When he does start out
+to do good, though, he makes a job of it. But look who he picks out!
+
+Course, I knew why. He's explained all that to me more'n once. Seems
+there was an old waiter at the club, a quiet, soft-spoken, bald-headed
+relic, who had served him with more lobster Newburg than you could load
+on a scow, and enough highballs to float the _Mauretania_ in. In fact,
+he'd been waitin' there as long as Pinckney had been a member. They'd
+been kind of chummy, in a way, too. It had always been "Good morning,
+Peter," and "Hope I see you well, sir," between them, and Pinckney never
+had to bother about whether he liked a dash of bitters in this, or if
+that ought to be served frappe or plain. Peter knew, and Peter never
+forgot.
+
+Then one day when Pinckney's just squarin' off to his lunch he notices
+that he's been given plain, ordinary salt butter instead of the sweet
+kind he always has; so he puts up a finger to call Peter over and have a
+swap made. When he glances up, though, he finds Peter ain't there at
+all.
+
+"Oh, I say," says he, "but where is Peter?"
+
+"Peter, sir?" says the new man. "Very sorry, sir, but Peter's dead."
+
+"Dead!" says Pinckney. "Why--why--how long has that been?"
+
+"Over a month, sir," says he. "Anything wrong, sir?"
+
+To be sure, Pinckney hadn't been there reg'lar; but he'd been in off and
+on, and when he comes to think how this old chap, that knew all his
+whims, and kept track of 'em so faithful, had dropped out without his
+ever having heard a word about it--why, he felt kind of broke up. You
+see, he'd always meant to do something nice for old Peter; but he'd never
+got round to it, and here the first thing he knows Peter's been under the
+sod for more'n a month.
+
+That's what set Pinckney to inquirin' if Peter hadn't left a fam'ly or
+anything, which results in his diggin' up this Spotty youth. I forgot
+just what his first name was, it being something outlandish that don't go
+with Cahill at all; but it seems he was born over in India, where old
+Peter was soldierin' at the time, and they'd picked up one of the native
+names. Maybe that's what ailed the boy from the start.
+
+Anyway, Peter had come back from there a widower, drifted to New York
+with the youngster, and got into the waiter business. Meantime the boy
+grows up in East Side boardin'-houses, without much lookin' after, and
+when Pinckney finds him he's an int'restin' product. He's twenty-odd,
+about five feet eleven high, weighs under one hundred and thirty, has a
+shock of wavy, brick-red hair that almost hides his ears, and his chief
+accomplishments are playin' Kelly pool and consumin' cigarettes. By way
+of ornament he has the most complete collection of freckles I ever see on
+a human face, or else it was they stood out more prominent because the
+skin was so white between the splotches. We didn't invent the name Spotty
+for him. He'd already been tagged that.
+
+Well, Pinckney discovers that Spotty has been livin' on the few dollars
+that was left after payin' old Peter's plantin' expenses; that he didn't
+know what he was goin' to do after that was gone, and didn't seem to
+care. So Pinckney jumps in, works his pull with the steward, and has
+Spotty put on reg'lar in the club billiard room as an attendant. All he
+has to do is help with the cleanin', keep the tables brushed, and set up
+the balls when there are games goin' on. He gets his meals free, and six
+dollars a week.
+
+Now that should have been a soft enough snap for anybody, even the born
+tired kind. There wa'n't work enough in it to raise a palm callous on a
+baby. But Spotty, he improves on that. His idea of earnin' wages is to
+curl up in a sunny windowseat and commune with his soul. Wherever you
+found the sun streamin' in, there was a good place to look for Spotty. He
+just seemed to soak it up, like a blotter does ink, and it didn't disturb
+him any who was doin' his work.
+
+Durin' the first six months Spotty was fired eight times, only to have
+Pinckney get him reinstated, and it wa'n't until the steward went to the
+board of governors with the row that Mr. Cahill was given his permanent
+release. You might think Pinckney would have called it quits then; but
+not him! He'd started out to godfather Spotty, and he stays right with
+the game. Everybody he knew was invited to help along the good work of
+givin' Spotty a lift. He got him into brokers' offices, tried him out as
+bellhop in four diff'rent hotels, and even jammed him by main strength
+into a bank; but Spotty's sun absorbin' habits couldn't seem to be made
+useful anywhere.
+
+For one while he got chummy with Swifty Joe and took to sunnin' himself
+in the studio front windows, until I had to veto that.
+
+"I don't mind your friends droppin' in now and then, Swifty," says I;
+"but there ain't any room here for statuary. I don't care how gentle you
+break it to him, only run him out."
+
+So that's why I don't enthuse much when Pinckney says he's thought up
+some new scheme for Spotty. "Goin' to have him probed for hookworms?"
+says I.
+
+No, that ain't it. Pinckney, he's had a talk with Spotty and discovered
+that old Peter had a brother Aloysius, who's settled somewhere up in
+Canada and is superintendent of a big wheat farm. Pinckney's had his
+lawyers trace out this Uncle Aloysius, and then he's written him all
+about Spotty, suggestin' that he send for him by return mail.
+
+"Fine!" says I. "He'd be a lot of use on a wheat farm. What does Aloysius
+have to say to the proposition?"
+
+"Well, the fact is," says Pinckney, "he doesn't appear at all
+enthusiastic. He writes that if the boy is anything like Peter when he
+knew him he's not anxious to see him. However, he says that if Spotty
+comes on he will do what he can for him."
+
+"It'll be a long walk," says I.
+
+"There's where my idea comes in," says Pinckney. "I am going to finance
+the trip."
+
+"If it don't cost too much," says I, "it'll be a good investment."
+
+Pinckney wants to do the thing right away, too. First off, though, he has
+to locate Spotty. The youth has been at large for a week or more now,
+since he was last handed the fresh air, and Pinckney ain't heard a word
+from him.
+
+"Maybe Swifty knows where he roosts," says I.
+
+It was a good guess. Swifty gives us a number on Fourth-ave. where he'd
+seen Spotty hangin' around lately, and he thinks likely he's there yet.
+
+So me and Pinckney starts out on the trail. It leads us to one of them
+Turkish auction joints where they sell genuine silk oriental prayer rugs,
+made in Paterson, N. J., with hammered brass bowls and antique guns as a
+side line. And, sure enough, camped down in front on a sample rug, with
+his hat off and the sun full on him, is our friend Spotty.
+
+"Well, well!" says Pinckney. "Regularly employed here, are you, Spotty?"
+
+"Me? Nah!" says Spotty, lookin' disgusted at the thought. "I'm only
+stayin' around."
+
+"Ain't you afraid the sun will fade them curly locks of yours?" says I.
+
+"Ah, quit your kiddin'!" says Spotty, startin' to roll a fresh
+cigarette.
+
+"Don't mind Shorty," says Pinckney. "I have some good news for you."
+
+That don't excite Spotty a bit. "Not another job!" he groans.
+
+"No, no," says Pinckney, and then he explains about finding Uncle
+Aloysius, windin' up by askin' Spotty how he'd like to go up there and
+live.
+
+"I don't know," says Spotty. "Good ways off, ain't it!"
+
+"It is, rather," admits Pinckney; "but that need not trouble you. What do
+you think I am going to do for you, Spotty?"
+
+"Give it up," says he, calmly lightin' a match and proceedin' with the
+smoke.
+
+"Well," says Pinckney, "because of the long and faithful service of your
+father, and the many little personal attentions he paid me, I am going to
+give you---- Wait! Here it is now," and hanged if Pinckney don't fork
+over ten new twenty-dollar bills. "There!" says he. "That ought to be
+enough to fit you out well and take you there in good shape. Here's the
+address too."
+
+Does Spotty jump up and crack his heels together and sputter out how
+thankful he is? Nothin' so strenuous. He fumbles the bills over curious
+for a minute, then wads 'em up and jams 'em into his pocket. "Much
+obliged," says he.
+
+"Come around to Shorty's with your new clothes on to-morrow afternoon
+about four o'clock," says Pinckney, "and let us see how you look.
+And--er--by the way, Spotty, is that a friend of yours?"
+
+I'd been noticin' her too, standin' just inside the doorway pipin' us
+off. She's a slim, big-eyed, black-haired young woman, dressed in the
+height of Grand-st. fashion, and wearin' a lot of odd, cheap lookin'
+jewelry. If it hadn't been for the straight nose and the thin lips you
+might have guessed that her first name was Rebecca.
+
+"Oh, her?" says Spotty, turnin' languid to see who he meant. "That's
+Mareena. Her father runs the shop."
+
+"Armenian?" says I.
+
+"No, Syrian," says he.
+
+"Quite some of a looker, eh?" says I, tryin' to sound him.
+
+"Not so bad," says Spotty, hunchin' his shoulders.
+
+"But--er--do I understand," says Pinckney, "that there is--ah--some
+attachment between you and--er--the young lady?"
+
+"Blamed if I know," says Spotty. "Better ask her."
+
+Course, we couldn't very well do that, and as Spotty don't seem bubblin'
+over with information he has to chop it off there. Pinckney, though, is
+more or less int'rested in the situation. He wonders if he's done just
+right, handin' over all that money to Spotty in a place like that.
+
+"It wa'n't what you'd call a shrewd move," says I. "Seems to me I'd
+bought his ticket, anyway."
+
+"Yes; but I wanted to get it off my mind, you know," says he. "Odd,
+though, his being there. I wonder what sort of persons those Syrians
+are!"
+
+"You never can tell," says I.
+
+The more Pinckney thinks of it, the more uneasy he gets, and when four
+o'clock comes next day, with no Spotty showin' up, he begins to have
+furrows in his brow. "If he's been done away with, it's my fault," says
+Pinckney.
+
+"Ah, don't start worryin' yet," says I. "Give him time."
+
+By five o'clock, though, Pinckney has imagined all sorts of
+things,--Spotty bein' found carved up and sewed in a sack, and him called
+into court to testify as to where he saw him last. "And all because I
+gave him that money!" he groans.
+
+"Say, can it!" says I. "Them sensation pictures of yours are makin' me
+nervous. Here, I'll go down and see if they've finished wipin' off the
+daggers, while you send Swifty out after something soothin'."
+
+With that off I hikes as a rescue expedition. I finds the red flag still
+out, the sample rug still in place; but there's no Spotty in evidence.
+Neither is there any sign of the girl. So I walks into the store, gazin'
+around sharp for any stains on the floor.
+
+Out from behind a curtain at the far end of the shop comes a fat, wicked
+lookin' old pirate, with a dark greasy face and shiny little eyes like a
+pair of needles. He's wearin' a dinky gold-braided cap, baggy trousers,
+and he carries a long pipe in one hand. If he didn't look like he'd do
+extemporaneous surgery for the sake of a dollar bill, then I'm no judge.
+I've got in too far to look up a cop, so I takes a chance on a strong
+bluff.
+
+"Say, you!" I sings out. "What's happened to Spotty?"
+
+"Spot-tee?" says he. "Spot-tee?" He shrugs his shoulders and pretends to
+look dazed.
+
+"Yes, Spotty," says I, "red-headed, freckle-faced young gent. You know
+him."
+
+"Ah!" says he, tappin' his head. "The golden crowned! El Sareef
+Ka-heel?"
+
+"That's the name, Cahill," says I. "He's a friend of a friend of mine,
+and you might as well get it through your nut right now that if
+anything's happened to him----"
+
+"You are a friend of Sareef Ka-heel?" he breaks in, eyin' me suspicious.
+
+"Once removed," says I; "but it amounts to the same thing. Now where is
+he?"
+
+"For a friend--well, I know not," says the old boy, kind of hesitatin'.
+Then, with another shrug, he makes up his mind. "So it shall be. Come.
+You shall see the Sareef."
+
+At that he beckons me to follow and starts towards the back. I went
+through one dark room, expectin' to feel a knife in my ribs every minute,
+and then we goes through another. Next thing I knew we're out in a little
+back yard, half full of empty cases and crates. In the middle of a clear
+space is a big brown tent, with the flap pinned back.
+
+"Here," says the old gent, "your friend, the Sareef Ka-heel!"
+
+Say, for a minute I thought it was a trap he's springin' on me; but after
+I'd looked long enough I see who he's pointin' at. The party inside is
+squattin' cross-legged on a rug, holdin' the business end of one of these
+water bottle pipes in his mouth. He's wearin' some kind of a long bath
+robe, and most of his red hair is concealed by yards of white cloth
+twisted round his head; but it's Spotty all right, alive, uncarved, and
+lookin' happy and contented.
+
+"Well, for the love of soup!" says I. "What is it, a masquerade?"
+
+"That you, McCabe?" says he. "Come in and--and sit on the floor."
+
+"Say," says I, steppin' inside, "this ain't the costume you're going to
+start for Canada in, is it?"
+
+"Ah, forget Canada!" says he. "I've got that proposition beat a mile.
+Hey, Hazzam," and he calls to the old pirate outside, "tell Mrs. Cahill
+to come down and be introduced!"
+
+"What's that?" says I. "You--you ain't been gettin' married, have you?"
+
+"Yep," says Spotty, grinnin' foolish. "Nine o'clock last night. We're
+goin' to start on our weddin' trip Tuesday, me and Mareena."
+
+"Mareena!" I gasps. "Not the--the one we saw out front? Where you going,
+Niagara?"
+
+"Nah! Syria, wherever that is," says he. "Mareena knows. We're goin' to
+live over there and buy rugs. That two hundred was just what we needed to
+set us up in business."
+
+"Think you'll like it?" says I.
+
+"Sure!" says he. "She says it's fine. There's deserts over there, and you
+travel for days and days, ridin' on bloomin' camels. Here's the tent
+we're goin' to live in. I'm practisin' up. Gee! but this pipe is
+somethin' fierce, though! Oh, here she is! Say, Mareena, this is Mr.
+McCabe, that I was tellin' you about."
+
+Well, honest, I wouldn't have known her for the same girl. She's changed
+that Grand-st. uniform for a native outfit, and while it's a little gaudy
+in color, hanged if it ain't becomin'! For a desert bride I should say
+she had some class.
+
+"Well," says I, "so you and Spotty are goin' to leave us, eh?"
+
+"Ah, yes!" says she, them big black eyes of hers lightin' up. "We go
+where the sky is high and blue and the sun is big and hot. We go back to
+the wide white desert where I was born. All day we shall ride toward the
+purple hills, and sleep at night under the still stars. He knows. I have
+told him."
+
+"That's right," says Spotty. "It'll be all to the good, that. Mareena can
+cook too."
+
+To prove it, she makes coffee and hands it around in little brass cups.
+Also there's cakes, and the old man comes in, smilin' and rubbin' his
+hands, and we has a real sociable time.
+
+And these was the folks I'd suspected of wantin' to carve up Spotty! Why,
+by the looks I saw thrown at him by them two, I knew they thought him the
+finest thing that ever happened. Just by the way Mareena reached out sly
+to pat his hair when she passed, you could see how it was.
+
+So I wished 'em luck and hurried back to report before Pinckney sent a
+squad of reserves after me.
+
+"Well!" says he, the minute I gets in. "Let me know the worst at once."
+
+"I will," says I. "He's married." It was all I could do, too, to make him
+believe the yarn.
+
+"By Jove!" says he. "Think of a chap like Spotty Cahill tumbling into a
+romance like that! And on Fourth-ave!"
+
+"It ain't so well advertised as some other lanes in this town," says I;
+"but it's a great street. Say, what puzzled me most about the whole
+business, though, was the new name they had for Spotty. Sareef! What in
+blazes does that mean?"
+
+"Probably a title of some sort," says Pinckney. "Like sheik, I suppose."
+
+"But what does a Sareef have to do?" says I.
+
+"Do!" says Pinckney. "Why, he's boss of the caravan. He--he sits around
+in the sun and looks picturesque."
+
+"Then that settles it," says I. "Spotty's qualified. I never thought
+there was any place where he'd fit in; but, if your description's
+correct, he's found the job he was born for."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+A GRANDMOTHER WHO GOT GOING
+
+
+Ever go on a grandmother hunt through the Red Ink District? Well, it
+ain't a reg'lar amusement of mine, but it has its good points. Maybe I
+wouldn't have tackled it at all if I hadn't begun by lettin' myself get
+int'rested in Vincent's domestic affairs.
+
+Now what I knew about this Vincent chap before we starts out on the
+grandmother trail wouldn't take long to tell. He wa'n't any special
+friend of mine. For one thing, he wears his hair cut plush. Course, it's
+his hair, and if he wants to train it to stand up on top like a clothes
+brush or a blacking dauber, who am I that should curl the lip of scorn?
+
+Just the same, I never could feel real chummy towards anyone that sported
+one of them self raisin' crests. Vincent wa'n't one of the chummy kind,
+though. He's one of these stiff backed, black haired, brown eyed, quick
+motioned, sharp spoken ducks, that wants what he wants when he wants it.
+You know. He comes to the studio reg'lar, does his forty-five minutes'
+work, and gets out without swappin' any more conversation than is
+strictly necessary.
+
+All the information I had picked up about him was that he hailed from up
+the State somewhere, and that soon after he struck New York he married
+one of the Chetwood girls. And that takes more or less capital to start
+with. Guess Vincent had it; for I hear his old man left him quite a wad
+and that now he's the main guy of a threshin' machine trust, or something
+like that. Anyway, Vincent belongs in the four-cylinder plute class, and
+he's beginnin' to be heard of among the alimony aristocracy.
+
+But this ain't got anything to do with the way he happened to get
+confidential all so sudden. He'd been havin' a kid pillow mix-up with
+Swifty Joe, just as lively as if the thermometer was down to thirty
+instead of up to ninety, and he's just had his rub down and got into his
+featherweight serge, when in drifts this Rodney Kipp that's figurin' so
+strong on the defense side of them pipe line cases.
+
+"Ah, Vincent!" says he.
+
+"Hello, Rodney!" says Vincent as they passes each other in the front
+office, one goin' out and the other comin' in.
+
+I'd never happened to see 'em meet before, and I'm some surprised that
+they're so well acquainted. Don't know why, either, unless it is that
+they're so different. Rodney, you know, is one of these light complected
+heavyweights, and a swell because he was born so. I was wonderin' if
+Rodney was one of Vincent's lawyers, or if they just belonged to the same
+clubs; when Mr. Kipp swings on his heel and says:
+
+"Oh, by the way, Vincent, how is grammy?"
+
+"Why!" says Vincent, "isn't she out with you and Nellie?"
+
+"No," says Rodney, "she stayed with us only for a couple of days. Nellie
+said she hadn't heard from her for nearly two months, and told me to ask
+you about her. So long. I'm due for some medicine ball work," and with
+that he drifts into the gym. and shuts the door.
+
+Vincent, he stands lookin' after him with a kind of worried look on his
+face that was comical to see on such a cocksure chap as him.
+
+"Lost somebody, have you?" says I.
+
+"Why--er--I don't know," says Vincent, runnin' his fingers through the
+bristles that waves above his noble brow. "It's grandmother. I can't
+imagine where she can be."
+
+"You must have grandmothers to burn," says I, "if they're so plenty with
+you that you can mislay one now and then without missin' her."
+
+"Eh?" says he. "No, no! She is really my mother, you know. I've got into
+the way of calling her grammy only during the last three or four years."
+
+"Oh, I see!" says I. "The grandmother habit is something she's contracted
+comparative recent, eh? Ain't gone to her head, has it?"
+
+Vincent couldn't say; but by the time he's quit tryin' to explain what
+has happened I've got the whole story. First off he points out that
+Rodney Kipp, havin' married his sister Nellie, is his brother-in-law,
+and, as they both have a couple of youngsters, it makes Vincent's mother
+a grammy in both families.
+
+"Sure," says I. "I know how that works out. She stays part of the time
+with you, and makes herself mighty popular with your kids; then she takes
+her trunk over to Rodney's and goes through the same performance there.
+And when she goes visitin' other places there's a great howl all round.
+That's it, ain't it?"
+
+It wa'n't, not within a mile, and I'd showed up my low, common breedin'
+by suggesting such a thing. As gently as he could without hurtin' my
+feelin's too much, Vincent explains that while my programme might be
+strictly camel's foot for ordinary people, the domestic arrangements of
+the upper classes was run on different lines. For instance, his little
+Algernon Chetwood could speak nothing but French, that bein' the brand of
+governess he'd always had, and so he naturally couldn't be very thick
+with a grandmother that didn't understand a word of his lingo.
+
+"Besides," says Vincent, "mother and my wife, I regret to say, have never
+found each other very congenial."
+
+I might have guessed it if I'd stopped to think of how an old lady from
+the country would hitch with one of them high flyin' Chetwood girls.
+
+"Then she hangs out with your sister, eh, and does her grandmother act
+there?" says I.
+
+"Well, hardly," says Vincent, colorin' up a little. "You see, Rodney has
+never been very intimate with the rest of our family. He's a Kipp,
+and---- Well, you can't blame him; for mother is rather old-fashioned. Of
+course, she's good and kind-hearted and all that; but--but there isn't
+much style about her."
+
+"Still sticks to the polonaise of '81, and wears a straw lid she bought
+durin' the Centennial, eh?" says I.
+
+Vincent says that about tells the story.
+
+"And where is it she's been livin' all this time that you've been gettin'
+on so well in New York?" says I.
+
+"In our old home, Tonawanda," says he, shudderin' some as he lets go of
+the name. "It's where she should have stayed, too!"
+
+"So-o-o-o?" says I. I'd been listenin' just out of politeness up to that
+point; but from then on I got int'rested, and I don't let up until I've
+pumped out of him all the details about just how much of a nuisance an
+old, back number mother could be to a couple of ambitious young folks
+that had grown up and married into the swell mob.
+
+It was a case that ought to be held up as a warnin' to lots of
+superfluous old mothers that ain't got any better taste than to keep on
+livin' long after there's any use for 'em. Mother Vincent hadn't made
+much trouble at first, for she'd had an old maid sister to take care of;
+but when a bad case of the grip got Aunt Sophrony durin' the previous
+winter, mother was left sort of floatin' around.
+
+She tried visitin' back and forth between Vincent and Nellie just one
+consecutive trip, and the experiment was such a frost that it caused
+ructions in both families. In her Tonawanda regalia mother wa'n't an
+exhibit that any English butler could be expected to pass the soup to and
+still keep a straight face.
+
+So Vincent thinks it's time to anchor her permanent somewhere. Accordin'
+to his notion, he did the handsome thing too. He buys her a nice little
+farm about a mile outside of Tonawanda, a place with a fine view of the
+railroad tracks on the west and a row of brick yards to the east, and he
+lands mother there with a toothless old German housekeeper for company.
+He tells her he's settled a good comfortable income on her for life, and
+leaves her to enjoy herself.
+
+But look at the ingratitude a parent can work up! She ain't been there
+more'n a couple of months before she begins complainin' about bein'
+lonesome. She don't see much of the Tonawanda folks now, the housekeeper
+ain't very sociable, the smoke from the brick yards yellows her Monday
+wash, and the people she sees goin' by in the cars is all strangers.
+Couldn't Vincent swap the farm for one near New York? She liked the looks
+of the place when she was there, and wouldn't mind being closer.
+
+"Of course," says he, "that was out of the question!"
+
+"Oh, sure!" says I. "How absurd! But what's the contents of this late
+bulletin about her being a stray?"
+
+It was nothing more or less than that the old girl had sold up the farm a
+couple of months back, fired the housekeeper, and quietly skipped for New
+York. Vincent had looked for her to show up at his house, and when she
+didn't he figured she must have gone to Nellie's. It was only when Rodney
+Kipp fires the grammy question at him that he sees he's made a wrong
+calculation and begins havin' cold feet.
+
+"If she's here, alone in New York, there's no knowing what may be
+happening to her," says he. "Why, she knows nothing about the city,
+nothing at all! She might get run over, or fall in with disreputable
+people, or----" The other pictures was so horrible he passes 'em up.
+
+"Mothers must be a great care," says I. "I ain't had one for so long I
+can't say on my own hook; but I judge that you and sister has had a hard
+time of it with yours. Excuse me, though, if I don't shed any tears of
+sympathy, Vincent."
+
+He looks at me kind of sharp at that; but he's too busy with disturbin'
+thoughts to ask what I mean. Maybe he'd found out if he had. It's just as
+well he didn't; for I was some curious to see what would be his next
+move. From his talk it's plain Vincent is most worried about the chances
+of the old lady's doin' something that would get her name into the
+papers, and he says right off that he won't rest easy until he's found
+her and shooed her back to the fields.
+
+"But where am I to look first?" says he. "How am I to begin?"
+
+"It's a big town to haul a dragnet through, that's a fact," says I. "Why
+don't you call in Brother-in-Law Rodney, for a starter?"
+
+"No, no," says Vincent, glancin' uneasy at the gym. door. "I don't care
+to have him know anything about it."
+
+"Maybe sister might have some information," says I. "There's the
+'phone."
+
+"Thanks," says he. "If you don't mind, I will call her up at the Kipp
+country place."
+
+He does; but Nellie ain't heard a word from mother; thought she must be
+with Vincent all this time; and has been too busy givin' house parties to
+find out.
+
+"Have her cross examine the maids," says I. "The old lady may have left
+some orders about forwardin' her mail."
+
+That was the clew. Inside of ten minutes Nellie 'phones back and gives a
+number on West 21st-st.
+
+"Gee!" says I. "A hamfatters' boardin'-house, I'll bet a bag of beans!
+Grandmother has sure picked out a lively lodgin'-place."
+
+"Horrible!" says Vincent. "I must get her away from there at once. But I
+wish there was someone who----Shorty, could I get you to go along with me
+and----"
+
+"Rescuin' grandmothers ain't my long suit," says I; "but I'll admit I'm
+some int'rested in this case. Come on."
+
+By the time our clockwork cab fetches up in front of the prunery it's
+after six o'clock. There's no mistakin' the sort of histrionic asylum it
+was, either. A hungry lookin' bunch of actorets was lined up on the front
+steps, everyone of 'em with an ear stretched out for the dinner bell. In
+the window of the first floor front was a beauty doctor's sign, a bull
+fiddle-artist was sawin' out his soul distress in the hall bedroom above,
+and up under the cornice the Chicini sisters was leanin' on the ledge and
+wishin' the folks back in Saginaw would send on that grubstake letter
+before the landlady got any worse. But maybe you've seen samples of real
+dogday tragedy among the profesh, when the summer snaps have busted and
+the fall rehearsals have just begun. What, Mabel?
+
+"It's a sure enough double-in-brass roost," says I. "Don't say anything
+that sounds like contract, or you'll be mobbed."
+
+But they sizes Vincent up for a real estate broker, and gives him the
+chilly stare, until he mentions the old lady's name. Then they thaws out
+sudden.
+
+"Oh, the Duchess!" squeals a couple in chorus. "Why, she always dines
+out, you know. You'll find her around at Doughretti's, on 27th-st."
+
+"Duchess!" says Vincent. "I--I'm afraid there's some mistake."
+
+"Not at all," says one of the crowd. "We all call her that. She's got
+Little Spring Water with her to-night. Doughretti's, just in from the
+avenue, is the place."
+
+And Vincent is the worst puzzled gent you ever saw as he climbs back into
+the cab.
+
+"It can't be mother they mean," says he. "No one would ever think of
+calling her Duchess."
+
+"There's no accountin' for what them actorines would do," says I.
+"Anyway, all you got to do is take a peek at the party, and if it's a
+wrong steer we can go back and take a fresh start."
+
+You know Doughretti's, if you don't you know a dozen just like it. It's
+one of these sixty-cent table dotty joints, with an electric name sign, a
+striped stoop awnin', and a seven-course menu manifolded in pale purple
+ink. You begin the agony with an imitation soup that looks like Rockaway
+beach water when the tide's comin' in, and you end with a choice of
+petrified cheese rinds that might pass for souvenirs from the Palisades.
+
+If you don't want to taste what you eat, you let 'em hand you a free
+bottle of pure California claret, vatted on East Houston-st. It's a
+mixture of filtered Croton, extra quality aniline dyes, and two kinds of
+wood alcohol, and after you've had a pint of it you don't care whether
+the milk fed Philadelphia chicken was put in cold storage last winter, or
+back in the year of the big wind.
+
+Madam Doughretti had just fed the Punk Lady waltz into the pianola for
+the fourth time as we pulls up at the curb.
+
+"It's no use," says Vincent. "She wouldn't be here. I will wait, though,
+while you take a look around; if you will, Shorty."
+
+On the way over he's given me a description of his missin' parent; so I
+pikes up the steps, pushes past the garlic smells, and proceeds to
+inspect the groups around the little tables. What I'm lookin' for is a
+squatty old party with gray hair pasted down over her ears, and a waist
+like a bag of hay tied in the middle. She's supposed to be wearin' a
+string bonnet about the size of a saucer, with a bunch of faded velvet
+violets on top, a coral brooch at her neck, and either a black alpaca or
+a lavender sprigged grenadine. Most likely, too, she'll be doin' the
+shovel act with her knife.
+
+Well, there was a good many kinds of females scattered around the coffee
+stained tablecloths, but none that answers to these specifications. I was
+just gettin' ready to call off the search, when I gets my eye on a couple
+over in one corner. The gent was one of these studio Indians, with his
+hair tucked inside his collar.
+
+The old girl facin' him didn't have any Tonawanda look about her, though.
+She was what you might call a frosted pippin, a reg'lar dowager dazzler,
+like the pictures you see on fans. Her gray hair has been spliced out
+with store puffs until it looks like a weddin' cake; her hat is one of
+the new wash basin models, covered with pink roses that just matches the
+color of her cheeks; and her peek-a-poo lace dress fits her like it had
+been put onto her with a shoe horn.
+
+Sure, I wa'n't lookin' for any such party as this; but I can't help
+takin' a second squint. I notices what fine, gentle old eyes she has, and
+while I was doin' that I spots something else. Just under her chin is one
+of them antique coral pins. Course, it looked like a long shot, but I
+steps out to the door and motions Vincent to come in.
+
+"I expect we're way off the track," says I; "but I'd like to have you
+take a careless glance at the giddy old party over under the kummel sign
+in the corner; the one facin' this way--there."
+
+Vincent gives a jump at the first look. Then he starts for her full tilt,
+me trailin' along and whisperin' to him not to make any fool break unless
+he's dead sure. But there's no holdin' him back. She's so busy chattin'
+with the reformed Sioux in store clothes that she don't notice Vincent
+until he's right alongside, and just as she looks up he lets loose his
+indignation.
+
+"Why, grandmother!" says he.
+
+She don't seem so much jarred as you might think. She don't even drop the
+fork that she's usin' to twist up a gob of spaghetti on. All she does is
+to lift her eyebrows in a kind of annoyed way, and shoot a quick look at
+the copper tinted gent across the table.
+
+"There, there, Vincent?" says she. "Please don't grandmother me; at
+least, not in public."
+
+"But," says he, "you know that you are a----"
+
+"I admit nothing of the kind," says she. "I may be your mother; but as
+for being anybody's grandmother, that is an experience I know nothing
+about. Now please run along, Vincent, and don't bother."
+
+That leaves Vincent up in the air for keeps. He don't know what to make
+of this reception, or of the change that happened to her; but he feels he
+ought to register some sort of a kick.
+
+"But, mother," says he, "what does this mean? Such clothes! And
+such--such"--here he throws a meanin' look at the Indian gent.
+
+"Allow me," says grandmother, breakin' in real dignified, "to introduce
+Mr. John Little Bear, son of Chief Won-go-plunki. I am very sorry to
+interrupt our talk on art, John; but I suppose I must say a few words to
+Vincent. Would you mind taking your coffee on the back veranda?"
+
+He was a well-trained red man, John was, and he understands the back out
+sign; so inside of a minute the crockery has been pushed away and I'm
+attendin' a family reunion that appears to be cast on new lines. Vincent
+begins again by askin' what it all means.
+
+"It means, Vincent," says she, "that I have caught up with the
+procession. I tried being the old-fashioned kind of grandmother, and I
+wasn't a success. Now I'm learning the new way, and I like it first
+rate."
+
+"But your--your clothes!" gasps Vincent.
+
+"Well, what of them?" says she. "You made fun of the ones I used to wear;
+but these, I would have you know, were selected for me by a committee of
+six chorus ladies who know what is what. I am quite satisfied with my
+clothes, Vincent."
+
+"Possibly they're all right," says he; "but how--how long have you been
+wearing your hair that way?"
+
+"Ever since Madam Montrosini started on my improvement course," says she.
+"I am told it is quite becoming. And have you noticed my new waist line,
+Vincent?"
+
+Vincent hadn't; but he did then, and he had nothin' to say, for she has
+an hourglass lookin' like a hitchin' post. Not bein' able to carry on the
+debate under them headings, he switches and comes out strong on what an
+awful thing it was for her to be livin' among such dreadful people.
+
+"Why," says grandmother, "they're real nice, I'm sure. They have been
+just as good to me as they could be. They take turns going out to dinner
+with me and showing me around the town."
+
+"Good heavens!" says Vincent. "And this--this Bear person, does he----"
+
+"He is an educated, full blooded Sioux," says grandmother. "He has toured
+Europe with Buffalo Bill, and just now he is an artists' model. He is
+very entertaining company, Johnny is."
+
+"Johnny!" gasps Vincent under his breath. That's the last straw. He lays
+down the law then and there to grandmother. If she ever expects him to
+recognize her again, she must shake this whole crowd and come with him.
+
+"Where to, Vincent?" says she.
+
+"Why, to my home, of course," says he.
+
+"And have your wife's maid speak of me as a dumpy old scarecrow? No,
+thank you!" and she calls the waiter to bring a demitasse with cognac.
+
+"But no one could call you that now, mother," says Vincent. "You--you're
+different, quite different."
+
+"Oh, am I?" says she.
+
+"To be sure you are," says he. "Julia and I would be glad to have you
+with us. Really, we would."
+
+She was a good natured old girl, grandmother was. She says she'll try it;
+but only on one condition. It was a corker, too. If she's going to give
+all her good friends at the actors' boardin' house the shake, she thinks
+it ought to be done at a farewell dinner at the swellest place in town.
+Vincent groans; but he has to give in. And that's how it happens the
+other night that about two dozen liberty people walked up from Appetite
+Row and fed themselves off Sherry's gold plates until the waiters was
+weak in the knees watchin' 'em.
+
+"Is the old lady still leadin' the band wagon, Vincent!" says I to him
+yesterday.
+
+"She is," says he, "and it is wonderful how young she has grown."
+
+"New York is a great place for rejuvenatin' grandmothers," says I,
+"specially around in the Red Ink Zone."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+A LONG SHOT ON DELANCEY
+
+
+Well, I've been slummin' up again. It happens like this: I was just
+preparin', here the other noontime, to rush around the corner and destroy
+a plate of lunch counter hash decorated with parsley and a dropped egg,
+when I gets this 'phone call from Duke Borden, who says he wants to see
+me the worst way.
+
+"Well," says I, "the studio's still here on 42d-st., and if your eyesight
+ain't failed you----"
+
+"Oh, chop it, can't you, Shorty?" says he. "This is really important.
+Come right up, can't you!"
+
+"That depends," says I. "Any partic'lar place?"
+
+"Of course," says he. "Here at the club. I'm to meet Chick Sommers here
+in half an hour. We'll have luncheon together and----"
+
+"I'm on," says I. "I don't know Chick; but I'm a mixer, and I'll stand
+for anything in the food line but cold egg. Scratch the chilled hen fruit
+and I'm with you."
+
+Know about Duke, don't you? It ain't much to tell. He's just one of these
+big, handsome, overfed chappies that help the mounted traffic cops to
+make Fifth-ave. look different from other Main-sts. He don't do any
+special good, or any partic'lar harm. Duke's got just enough sense,
+though, to have spasms of thinkin' he wants to do something useful now
+and then, and all I can dope out of this emergency call of his is that
+this is a new thought.
+
+That's the answer, too. He begins tellin' me about it while the head
+waiter's leadin' us over to a corner table. Oh, yes, he's going in for
+business in dead earnest now, y'know,--suite of offices, his name on the
+letterheads, and all that sort of thing, bah Jove!
+
+All of which means that Mr. Chick Sommers, who was a star quarterback in
+'05, when Duke was makin' his college bluff on the Gold Coast, has rung
+him into a South Jersey land boomin' scheme. A few others, friends of
+Chick's, are in it. They're all rippin' good fellows, too, and awfully
+clever at planning out things. Chick himself, of course, is a corker. It
+was him that insisted on Duke's bein' treasurer.
+
+"And really," says Duke, "about all I have to do is drop around once or
+twice a week and sign a few checks."
+
+"I see," says I. "They let you supply the funds, eh?"
+
+"Why, yes," says Duke. "I'm the only one who can, y'know. But they depend
+a great deal on my judgment, too. For instance, take this new deal that's
+on; it has all been left to me. There are one hundred and eighteen acres,
+and we don't buy a foot unless I say so. That's where you come in,
+Shorty."
+
+"Oh, do I?" says I.
+
+"You see," Duke goes on, "I'm supposed to inspect it and make a decision
+before the option expires, which will be day after to-morrow. The fact
+is, I've been putting off going down there, and now I find I've a winter
+house party on, up in Lenox, and---- Well, you see the box I'm in."
+
+"Sure!" says I. "You want me to sub for you at Lenox?"
+
+"Deuce take it, no!" says Duke. "I want you to go down and look at that
+land for me."
+
+"Huh!" says I. "What I know about real estate wouldn't----"
+
+"Oh, that's all right," says Duke. "It's only a matter of form. The boys
+say they want it, and I'm going to buy it for them anyway; but, just to
+have it all straight and businesslike, either I ought to see the land
+myself, or have it inspected by my personal representative. Understand?"
+
+"Duke," says I, "you're a reg'lar real estate Napoleon. I wouldn't have
+believed it was in you."
+
+"I know," says he. "I'm really surprised at myself."
+
+Next he explains how he happened to think of sendin' me, and casually he
+wants to know if a couple of hundred and expenses will be about right for
+spoilin' two days of my valuable time. How could I tell how much it would
+lose me? But I said I'd run the chances.
+
+Then Chick shows up, and they begin to talk over the details of this new
+bungalow boom town that's to be located on the Jersey side.
+
+"I tell you," says Chick, "it'll be a winner from the start. Why, there's
+every advantage anyone could wish for,--ocean breezes mingled with pine
+scented zephyrs, magnificent views, and a railroad running right through
+the property! The nearest station now is Clam Creek; but we'll have one
+of our own, with a new name. Clam Creek! Ugh! How does Pinemere strike
+you?"
+
+"Perfectly ripping, by Jove!" says Duke, so excited over it that he
+lights the cork end of his cigarette. "Shorty, you must go right down
+there for me. Can't you start as soon as you've had your coffee?"
+
+Oh, but it was thrillin', listenin' to them two amateur real estaters
+layin' plans that was to make a seashore wilderness blossom with
+surveyors' stakes and fresh painted signs like Belvidere-ave., Ozone
+Boulevard, and so on.
+
+It struck me, though, that they was discussin' their scheme kind of free
+and public. I spots one white haired, dignified old boy, doing the
+solitaire feed at the table back of Duke, who seems more or less
+int'rested. And I notices that every time Clam Creek is mentioned he
+pricks up his ears. Sure enough, too, just as we're finishing, he steps
+over and taps Duke on the shoulder.
+
+"Why, howdy do, Mr. Cathaway?" says Duke. "Charmed to see you, by Jove!"
+
+And it turns out he's DeLancey Cathaway, the big noise in the
+philanthropy game, him that gets up societies for suppressin' the poor
+and has his name on hospitals and iron drinkin' fountains. After he's
+been introduced all around he admits that he's caught one or two remarks,
+and says he wants to congratulate Duke on givin' up his idle ways and
+breakin' into an active career.
+
+Oh, he's a smooth old party, Mr. Cathaway is! He don't let on to be
+more'n moderately int'rested, and the next thing I know he's sidled away
+from Duke and is walkin' out alongside of me.
+
+"Going down town?" says he. "Then perhaps you will allow me to give you a
+lift?" and he motions to his town car waiting at the curb.
+
+"Gee!" thinks I. "I'm makin' a hit with the nobility, me and my winnin'
+ways!"
+
+That don't exactly state the case, though; for as soon as we're alone
+DeLancey comes right to cases.
+
+"I understand, Mr. McCabe," says he, "that you are to visit Clam Creek."
+
+"Yep," says I. "Sounds enticin', don't it?"
+
+"Doubtless you will spend a day or so there?" he goes on.
+
+"Over night, anyway," says I.
+
+"Hum!" says he. "Then you will hardly fail to meet my brother. He is
+living at Clam Creek."
+
+"What!" says I. "Not Broadway Bob?"
+
+"Yes," says he, "Robert and his wife have been there for nearly two
+years. At least, that is where I have been sending his allowance."
+
+"Mrs. Bob too!" says I. "Why--why, say, you don't mean the one that----"
+
+"The same," he cuts in. "I know they're supposed to be abroad; but
+they're not, they are at Clam Creek."
+
+Maybe you've heard about the Bob Cathaways, and maybe you ain't. There's
+so many new near-plutes nowadays that the old families ain't getting the
+advertisin' they've been used to. Anyway, it's been sometime since
+Broadway Bob had his share of the limelight. You see, Bob sort of had his
+day when he was along in his thirties, and they say he was a real
+old-time sport and rounder, which was why he was let in so bad when old
+man Cathaway's will was probated. All Bob pulls out is a couple of
+thousand a year, even that being handled first by Brother DeLancey, who
+cops all the rest of the pile as a reward for always having gone in
+strong for charity and the perfectly good life.
+
+It's a case where virtue shows up strong from the first tap of the bell.
+Course, Bob can look back on some years of vivid joy, when he was makin'
+a record as a quart opener, buyin' stacks of blues at Daly's, or over at
+Monte Carlo bettin' where the ball would stop. But all this ends mighty
+abrupt.
+
+In the meantime Bob has married a lively young lady that nobody knew much
+about except that she was almost as good a sport as he was, and they were
+doin' some great teamwork in the way of livenin' up society, when the
+crash came.
+
+Then it was the noble hearted DeLancey to the rescue. He don't exactly
+take them right into the fam'ly; but he sends Mr. and Mrs. Bob over to
+his big Long Island country place, assigns 'em quarters in the north
+wing, and advises 'em to be as happy as they can. Now to most folks that
+would look like landin' on Velveteen-st.,--free eats, no room rent, and a
+forty-acre park to roam around in, with the use of a couple of safe
+horses and a libr'y full of improvin' books, such as the Rollo series and
+the works of Dr. Van Dyke.
+
+Brother Bob don't squeal or whine. He starts in to make the best of it by
+riggin' himself out like an English Squire and makin' a stagger at the
+country gentleman act. He takes a real int'rest in keepin' up the grounds
+and managin' the help, which DeLancey had never been able to do himself.
+
+It's as dull as dishwater, though, for Mrs. Robert Cathaway, and as there
+ain't anyone else handy she takes it out on Bob. Accordin' to all
+accounts, they must have done the anvil chorus good and plenty. You can
+just see how it would be, with them two dumped down so far from Broadway
+and only now and then comp'ny to break the monotony. When people did
+come, too, they was DeLancey's kind. I can picture Bob tryin' to get
+chummy with a bunch of prison reformers or delegates to a Sunday school
+union. I don't wonder his disposition curdled up.
+
+If it hadn't been for Mrs. Bob, though, they'd been there yet. She got so
+used to rowin' with Bob that she kept it up even when Brother DeLancey
+and his friends came down. DeLancey stands for it until one morning at
+breakfast, when he was entertainin' an English Bishop he'd corraled at
+some conference. Him and the Bishop was exchangin' views on whether free
+soup and free salvation was a good workin' combination or not, when some
+little thing sets Mr. and Mrs. Bob to naggin' each other on the side. I
+forgot just what it was Bob shot over; but after standin' her jabs for
+quite some time without gettin' real personal he comes back with some
+stage whisper remark that cut in deep.
+
+Mrs. Bob was right in the act of helpin' herself to the jelly omelet,
+usin' a swell silver servin' shovel about half the size of a brick
+layer's trowel. She's so stirred up that she absentmindedly scoops up a
+double portion, and just as Bob springs his remark what does she do but
+up and let fly at him, right across the table. Maybe she'd have winged
+him too,--and served him right for saying what no gentleman should to a
+lady, even if she is his wife,--but, what with her not stoppin' to take
+good aim, and the maid's gettin' her tray against her elbow, she misses
+Bob by about three feet and plasters the English Bishop square between
+the eyes.
+
+Now of course that wa'n't any way to serve hot omelet to a stranger, no
+matter how annoyed you was. DeLancey told her as much while he was
+helpin' swab off the reverend guest. Afterwards he added other
+observations more or less definite. Inside of two hours Mr. and Mrs. Bob
+found their baggage waitin' under the porte cochère, and the wagonette
+ready to take 'em to the noon train. They went. It was given out that
+they was travelin' abroad, and if it hadn't been for the omelet part of
+the incident they'd been forgotten long ago. That was a stunt that stuck,
+though.
+
+As I looks at DeLancey there in the limousine I has to grin. "Say," says
+I, "was it a fact that the Bishop broke loose and cussed?"
+
+"That humiliating affair, Mr. McCabe," says he, "I would much prefer not
+to talk about. I refer to my brother now because, knowing that you are
+going to Clam Creek, you will probably meet him there."
+
+"Oh!" says I. "Like to have me give him your best regards!"
+
+"No," says DeLancey. "I should like, however, to hear how you found
+him."
+
+"Another report, eh!" says I. "All right, Mr. Cathaway, I'll size him up
+for you."
+
+"But chiefly," he goes on, "I shall depend upon your discretion not to
+mention my brother's whereabouts to anyone else. As an aid to that
+discretion," says he, digging up his roll and sortin' out some tens, "I
+am prepared to----"
+
+"Ah, button 'em back!" says I. "Who do you think you're dealin' with,
+anyway?"
+
+"Why," says he, flushin' up, "I merely intended----"
+
+"Well, forget it!" says I. "I ain't runnin' any opposition to the Black
+Hand, and as for whether I leak out where your brother is or not, that's
+something you got to take chances on. Pull up there, Mr. Chauffeur! This
+is where I start to walk."
+
+And say, you could put his name on all the hospitals and orphan asylums
+in the country; but I never could see it again without growin' warm under
+the collar. Bah! Some of these perfectly good folks have a habit of
+gettin' on my nerves. All the way down to Clam Creek I kept tryin' to
+wipe him off the slate, and I'd made up my mind to dodge Brother Bob, if
+I had to sleep in the woods.
+
+So as soon as I hops off the train I gets my directions and starts to
+tramp over this tract that Duke Borden was plannin' on blowin' some of
+his surplus cash against. And say, if anybody wants an imitation desert,
+dotted with scrub pine and fringed with salt marshes, that's the place to
+go lookin' for it. There's hundreds of square miles of it down there that
+nobody's usin', or threatenin' to.
+
+Also I walked up an appetite like a fresh landed hired girl. I was so
+hungry that I pikes straight for the only hotel and begs 'em to lead me
+to a knife and fork. For a wonder, too, they brings on some real food,
+plain and hearty, and I don't worry about the way it's thrown at me.
+
+Yon know how it is out in the kerosene district. I finds myself face to
+face with a hunk of corned beef as big as my two fists, boiled Murphies,
+cabbage and canned corn on the side, bread sliced an inch thick, and
+spring freshet coffee in a cup you couldn't break with an ax. Lizzie, the
+waitress, was chewin' gum and watchin' to see if I was one of them fresh
+travelin' gents that would try any funny cracks on her.
+
+I'd waded through the food programme as far as makin' a choice between
+tapioca puddin' and canned peaches, when in drifts a couple that I knew,
+the minute I gets my eyes on 'em, must be Mr. and Mrs. Bob Cathaway. Who
+else in that little one-horse town would be sportin' a pair of puttee
+leggin's and doeskin ridin' breeches? That was Bob's makeup, includin' a
+flap-pocketed cutaway of Harris tweed and a corduroy vest. They fit him a
+little snug, showin' he's laid on some flesh since he had 'em built. Also
+he's a lot grayer than I expected, knowin' him to be younger than
+DeLancey.
+
+As for Mrs. Bob--well, if you can remember how the women was dressin' as
+far back as two years ago, and can throw on the screen a picture of a
+woman who has only the reminders of her good looks left, you'll have her
+framed up. A pair of seedy thoroughbreds, they was, seedy and down and
+out.
+
+[Illustration: "I knew it must be Mr. and Mrs. Bob Cathaway"]
+
+I was wonderin' if they still indulged in them lively fam'ly debates, and
+how soon I'd have to begin dodgin' dishes; but they sits down across the
+table from me and hardly swaps a word. All I notices is the scornful way
+Lizzie asks if they'll have soup, and the tremble to Bob Cathaway's hand
+as he lifts his water tumbler.
+
+As there was only us three in the room, and as none of us seemed to have
+anything to say, it wa'n't what you might call a boisterous assemblage.
+While I was waitin' for dessert I put in the time gazin' around at the
+scenery, from the moldy pickle jars at either end of the table, over to
+the walnut sideboard where they kept the plated cake basket and the
+ketchup bottles, across to the framed fruit piece that had seen so many
+hard fly seasons, and up to the smoky ceilin'. I looked everywhere except
+at the pair opposite.
+
+Lizzie was balancin' the soup plates on her left arm and singsongin' the
+bill of fare to 'em. "Col'-pork-col'-ham-an'-corn-beef-'n'-cabbage," says
+she.
+
+If Bob Cathaway didn't shudder at that, I did for him. "You may bring
+me--er--some of the latter," says he.
+
+I tested the canned peaches and then took a sneak. On one side of the
+front hall was the hotel parlor, full of plush furniture and stuffed
+birds. The office and bar was on the other. I strolls in where half a
+dozen Clam Creekers was sittin' around a big sawdust box indulgin' in
+target practice; but after a couple of sniffs I concludes that the
+breathin' air is all outside.
+
+After half an hour's stroll I goes in, takes a lamp off the hall table,
+and climbs up to No. 7. It's as warm and cheerful as an underground beer
+vault. Also I finds the window nailed down. Huntin' for someone to fetch
+me a hammer was what sent me roamin' through the hall and took me past
+No. 11, where the door was part way open. And in there, with an oil-stove
+to keep 'em from freezin', I see Mr. and Mrs. Bob Cathaway sittin' at a
+little marble topped table playin' double dummy bridge. Say, do you know,
+that unexpected glimpse of this little private hard luck proposition of
+theirs kind of got me in the short ribs. And next thing I knew I had my
+head in the door.
+
+"For the love of Mike," says I, "how do you stand it?"
+
+"Eh?" says Bob, droppin' his cards and starin' at me. "I--I beg pardon?"
+
+Well, with that I steps in, tells him who I am, and how I'd just had a
+talk with Brother DeLancey. Do I get the glad hand? Why, you'd thought I
+was a blooming he angel come straight from the pearly gates. Bob drags me
+in, pushes me into the only rocker in the room, shoves a cigar box at me,
+and begins to haul decanters from under the washstand. They both asks
+questions at once. How is everybody, and who's married who, and are so
+and so still living together?
+
+I reels off society gossip for an hour before I gets a chance to do some
+pumpin' on my own hook. What I wants to know is why in blazes they're
+hidin' in a hole like Clam Creek.
+
+Bob only shrugs his shoulders. "Why not here as well as anywhere?" says
+he. "When you can't afford to live among your friends, why--you live in
+Clam Creek."
+
+"But two years of it!" says I. "What do you find to do?"
+
+"Oh, we manage," says he, wavin' at the double dummy outfit. "Babe and I
+have our little game. It's only for a dime a point; but it helps pass
+away the time. You see, when our monthly allowance comes in we divide it
+equally and take a fresh start. The winner has the privilege of paying
+our bills."
+
+How was that for excitement? And Bob whispers to me, as we starts out for
+a little walk before turnin' in, "I generally fix it so Babe--er, Mrs.
+Cathaway--can win, you know."
+
+From other little hints I gathers that their stay in Clam Creek has done
+one thing for 'em, anyway. It had put 'em wise to the great fact that the
+best way for two parties to get along together is to cut out the hammer
+music.
+
+"So you had a talk with DeLancey?" says Bob on the way back. "I suppose
+he--er--sent no message?"
+
+It had taken Bob Cathaway all this while to work up to that question, and
+he can't steady down his voice as he puts it. And that quaver tells me
+the whole story of how he's been hoping all along that Brother DeLancey
+would sometime or other get over his grouch. Which puts it up to me to
+tell him what a human iceberg he's related to. Did I? Honest, there's
+times when I ain't got much use for the truth.
+
+"Message?" says I, prompt and cheerful. "Now what in blazes was it he did
+say to tell you? Something about asking how long before you and Mrs.
+Cathaway was goin' to run up and make him a visit, I guess."
+
+"A visit!" gasps Bob. "Did--did DeLancey say that? Then thank Heaven it's
+over! Come on! Hurry!" and he grabs me by the arm, tows me to the hotel,
+and makes a dash up the stairs towards their room.
+
+"What do you think, Babe?" says he, pantin'. "DeLancey wants to know when
+we're coming back!"
+
+For a minute Mrs. Bob don't say a word, but just stands there, her hands
+gripped in Bob's, and the dew startin' out of her eye corners. Then she
+asks, sort of husky, "Isn't there a night train, Bob?"
+
+There wa'n't; but there was one at six-thirty-eight in the mornin'. We
+all caught it, too, both of 'em as chipper as a pair of kids, and me
+wonderin' how it was all goin' to turn out.
+
+For three days after that I never went to the 'phone without expectin' to
+hear from Bob Cathaway, expressin' his opinion about my qualifications
+for the Ananias class. And then here the other afternoon I runs into
+Brother DeLancey on the avenue, not seein' him quick enough to beat it up
+a side street.
+
+"Ah, McCabe," he sings out, "just a moment! That little affair about my
+Brother Robert, you know."
+
+"Sure, I know," says I, bracin' myself. "Where is he now?"
+
+"Why," says DeLancey, with never an eyelash flutterin', "he and his wife
+are living at Green Oaks again. Just returned from an extended trip
+abroad, you know." Then he winks.
+
+Say, who was it sent out that bulletin about how all men was liars? I
+ain't puttin' in any not guilty plea; but I'd like to add that some has
+got it down finer than others.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+PLAYING HAROLD BOTH WAYS
+
+
+Anyway, they came bunched, and that was some comfort. Eh? Well, first off
+there was the lovers, then there was Harold; and it was only the
+combination that saved me from developin' an ingrowin' grouch.
+
+You can guess who it was accumulated the lovers. Why, when Sadie comes
+back from Bar Harbor and begins tellin' me about 'em, you'd thought she'd
+been left something in a will, she's so pleased.
+
+Seems there was these two young ladies, friends of some friends of hers,
+that was bein' just as miserable as they could be up there. One was
+visitin' the other, and, as I made out from Sadie's description, they
+must have been havin' an awful time, livin' in one of them eighteen-room
+cottages built on a point juttin' a mile or so out into the ocean, with
+nothin' but yachts and motor boats and saddle horses and tennis courts
+and so on to amuse themselves with.
+
+I inspected some of them places when I was up that way not long
+ago,--joints where they get their only information about hot waves by
+readin' the papers,--and I can just imagine how I could suffer puttin' in
+a summer there. Say, some folks don't know when they're well off, do
+they?
+
+And what do you suppose the trouble with 'em was? Why, Bobbie and Charlie
+was missin'. Honest, that's all the place lacked to make it a suburb of
+Paradise. But that was enough for the young ladies; for each of 'em was
+sportin' a diamond ring on the proper finger, and, as they confides to
+Sadie, what was the use of havin' summer at all, if one's fiancé couldn't
+be there?
+
+Bobbie and Charlie, it appears, was slavin' away in the city; one tryin'
+to convince Papa that he'd be a real addition to Wall Street, and the
+other trainin' with Uncle for a job as vice president of a life insurance
+company. So what did Helen and Marjorie care about sea breezes and
+picture postal scenery? Once a day they climbed out to separate perches
+on the rocks to read letters from Bobbie and Charlie; and the rest of the
+time they put in comparin' notes and helpin' each other be miserable.
+
+"Ah, quit it, Sadie!" says I, interruptin' the sad tale. "Do you want to
+make me cry?"
+
+"Well, they were wretched, even if you don't believe it," says she; "so I
+just told them to come right down here for the rest of the season."
+
+"Wha-a-at!" says I. "Not here?"
+
+"Why not?" says Sadie. "The boys can run up every afternoon and have
+dinner with us and stay over Sunday, and--and it will be just lovely. You
+know how much I like to have young people around. So do you, too."
+
+"Yes, that's all right," says I; "but----"
+
+"Oh, I know," says she. "This isn't matchmaking, though. They're already
+engaged, and it will be just delightful to have them with us. Now won't
+it?"
+
+"Maybe it will," says I. "We ain't ever done this wholesale before; so I
+ain't sure."
+
+Someway, I had a hunch that two pair of lovers knockin' around the
+premises at once might be most too much of a good thing; but, as long as
+I couldn't quote any authorities, I didn't feel like keepin' on with the
+debate.
+
+I couldn't object any to the style of the young ladies when they showed
+up; for they was both in the queen class, tall and willowy and sweet
+faced. One could tease opera airs out of the piano in great shape, and
+the other had quite some of a voice; so the prospects were for a few
+weeks of lively and entertainin' evenin's at the McCabe mansion. I had
+the programme all framed up too,--me out on the veranda with my heels on
+the rail, the windows open, and inside the young folks strikin' up the
+melodies and makin' merry gen'rally.
+
+Bobbie and Charles made more or less of a hit with me too when they first
+called,--good, husky, clean built young gents that passed out the cordial
+grip and remarked real hearty how much they appreciated our great
+kindness askin' 'em up.
+
+"Don't mention it," says I. "It's a fad of mine."
+
+Anyway, it looked like a good game to be in on, seein' there wa'n't any
+objections from any of the fam'lies. Made me feel bright and chirky, just
+to see 'em there, so that night at dinner I cut loose with some real cute
+joshes for the benefit of the young people. You know how easy it is to be
+humorous on them occasions. Honest, I must have come across with some of
+the snappiest I had in stock, and I was watchin' for the girls to pink up
+and accuse me of bein' an awful kidder, when all of a sudden I tumbles to
+the fact that I ain't holdin' my audience.
+
+Say, they'd started up a couple of conversations on their own hook--kind
+of side issue, soft pedal dialogues--and they wa'n't takin' the slightest
+notice of my brilliant efforts. At the other end of the table Sadie is
+havin' more or less the same experience; for every time she tries to cut
+in with some cheerful observation she finds she's addressin' either
+Marjorie's left shoulder or Bobbie's right.
+
+"Eh, Sadie?" says I across the centerpiece. "What was that last of
+yours?"
+
+"It doesn't matter," says she. "Shall we have coffee in the library,
+girls, or outside! I say, Helen, shall we have---- I beg pardon, Helen,
+but would you prefer----"
+
+"What we seem to need most, Sadie," says I as she gives it up, "is a
+table megaphone."
+
+Nobody hears this suggestion, though, not even Sadie. I was lookin' for
+the fun to begin after dinner,--the duets and the solos and the
+quartets,--but the first thing Sadie and I know we are occupyin' the
+libr'y all by ourselves, with nothing doing in the merry music line.
+
+"Of course," says she, "they want a little time by themselves."
+
+"Sure!" says I. "Half-hour out for the reunion."
+
+It lasts some longer, though. At the end of an hour I thinks I'll put in
+the rest of the wait watchin' the moon come up out of Long Island Sound
+from my fav'rite corner of the veranda; but when I gets there I finds
+it's occupied.
+
+"Excuse me," says I, and beats it around to the other side, where there's
+a double rocker that I can gen'rally be comfortable in. Hanged if I
+didn't come near sittin' slam down on the second pair, that was snuggled
+up close there in the dark!
+
+"Aha!" says I in my best comic vein. "So here's where you are, eh? Fine
+night, ain't it?"
+
+There's a snicker from the young lady, a grunt from the young gent; but
+nothing else happens in the way of a glad response. So I chases back into
+the house.
+
+"It's lovely out, isn't it?" says Sadie.
+
+"Yes," says I; "but more or less mushy in spots."
+
+With that we starts in to sit up for 'em. Sadie says we got to because
+we're doin' the chaperon act. And, say, I've seen more excitin' games. I
+read three evenin' papers clear through from the weather forecast to the
+bond quotations, and I finished by goin' sound asleep in my chair. I
+don't know whether Bobbie and Charlie caught the milk train back to town
+or not; but they got away sometime before breakfast.
+
+"Oh, well," says Sadie, chokin' off a yawn as she pours the coffee, "this
+was their first evening together, you know. I suppose they had a lot to
+say to each other."
+
+"Must have had," says I. "I shouldn't think they'd have to repeat that
+performance for a month."
+
+Next night, though, it's the same thing, and the next, and the next.
+"Poor things!" thinks I. "I expect they're afraid of being guyed." So,
+just to show how sociable and friendly I could be, I tries buttin' in on
+these lonely teeter-tates. First I'd hunt up one couple and submit some
+samples of my best chatter--gettin' about as much reply as if I was
+ringin' Central with the wire down. Then I locates the other pair, drags
+a rocker over near 'em, and tries to make the dialogue three handed. They
+stands it for a minute or so before decidin' to move to another spot.
+
+Honest, I never expected to feel lonesome right at home entertainin'
+guests! but I was gettin' acquainted with the sensation. There's no
+musical doings, no happy groups and gay laughter about the house; nothing
+but now and then a whisper from dark corners, or the creak of the porch
+swings.
+
+"Gee! but they're takin' their spoonin' serious, ain't they?" says I to
+Sadie. "And how popular we are with 'em! Makes me feel almost like I
+ought to put on a gag and sit down cellar in the coalbin."
+
+"Pooh!" says Sadie, makin' a bluff she didn't mind. "Do let them enjoy
+themselves in their own way."
+
+"Sure I will," says I. "Only this chaperon business is gettin' on my
+nerves. I don't feel like a host here; I feel more like a second story
+man dodgin' the night watchman."
+
+There wa'n't any signs of a change, either. When they had to be around
+where we was they had hardly a word to say and acted bored to death; and
+it must have taxed their brains, workin' up all them cute little schemes
+for leavin' us on a siding so they could pair off. Course, I've seen
+engaged couples before; but I never met any that had the disease quite so
+hard. And this bein' shunned like I had somethin' catchin' was new to me.
+I begun to feel like I was about ninety years old and in the way.
+
+Sunday forenoon was the limit, though. Sadie had planned to take 'em all
+for a motor trip; but they declines with thanks. Would they rather go out
+on the water? No, they didn't care for that, either. All they seems to
+want to do is wander round, two by two, where we ain't. And at that Sadie
+loses some of her enthusiasm for havin' bunches of lovers around.
+
+"Humph!" I hears her remark as she watches Bobbie and Marjorie sidestep
+her and go meanderin' off down a path to the rocks.
+
+A little while later I happens to stroll down to the summerhouse with the
+Sunday paper, and as I steps in one door Charlie and Helen slip out by
+the other. They'd seen me first.
+
+"Well, well!" says I. "I never knew before how unentertainin' I could
+be."
+
+And I was just wonderin' how I could relieve my feelin's without eatin' a
+fuzzy worm, like the small boy that nobody loved, when I hears footsteps
+approachin' through the shrubb'ry. I looks up, to find myself bein'
+inspected by a weedy, long legged youth. He's an odd lookin' kid, with
+dull reddish hair, so many freckles that his face looks rusty, and a pair
+of big purple black eyes that gazes at me serious.
+
+"Well, son," says I, "where did you drop from?"
+
+"My name is Harold Burbank Fitzmorris," says he, "and I am visiting with
+my mother on the adjoining estate."
+
+"That sounds like a full description, Harold," says I. "Did you stray
+off, or was you sent?"
+
+"I trust you don't mind," says he; "but I am exploring."
+
+"Explore away then," says I, "so long as you don't tramp through the
+flowerbeds."
+
+"Oh, I wouldn't think of injuring them," says he. "I am passionately fond
+of flowers."
+
+"You don't say!" says I.
+
+"Yes," says Harold, droppin' down easy on the bench alongside of me. "I
+love Nature in all her moods. I am a poet, you know."
+
+"Eh!" says I. "Ain't you beginning sort of young?"
+
+"Nearly all the really great men of literature," comes back Harold as
+prompt as if he was speakin' a piece, "have begun their careers by
+writing verse. I presume mine might be considered somewhat immature; but
+I am impelled from within to do it. All that will pass, however, when I
+enter on my serious work."
+
+"Oh, then you've got a job on the hook, have you!" says I.
+
+"I expect," says Harold, smilin' sort of indulgent and runnin' his
+fingers careless through his thick coppery hair, "to produce my first
+novel when I am twenty. It will have a somber theme, something after the
+manner of Turgenieff. Do you not find Turgenieff very stimulating?"
+
+"Harold," says I, "all them Hungarian wines are more or less heady, and a
+kid like you shouldn't monkey with any of 'em."
+
+He looks almost pained at that. "You're chaffing me now, I suppose," says
+he. "That sort of thing, though, I never indulge in. Humor, you know, is
+but froth on the deep seas of thought. It has never seemed to me quite
+worth one's while. You will pardon my frankness, I know."
+
+"Harold," says I, "you're a wizard. So it's nix on the josh, eh?"
+
+"What singular metaphors you employ!" says he. "Do you know, I can hardly
+follow you. However, colloquial language does not offend my ear. It is
+only when I see it in print that I shudder."
+
+"Me too," says I. "I'm just as sore on these foreign languages as anyone.
+So you're visitin' next door, eh? Enjoyin' yourself?"
+
+That was a plain cue for Harold Burbank to launch out on the story of his
+life; but, say, he didn't need any such encouragement. He was a willin'
+and ready converser, Harold was; and--my!--what a lot of classy words he
+did have on tap! First off I wondered how it was a youngster like him
+could dig up so many; but when I'd heard a little more about him I could
+account for it all.
+
+He'd cut his teeth, as you might say, on the encyclopedia. Harold's
+father had been a professor of dead languages, and I guess he must have
+died of it. Anyway, Mother was a widow, and from things Harold dropped I
+judged she was more or less frisky, spendin' her time at bridge and
+chasin' teas and dinner parties. It was clear she wa'n't any highbrow,
+such as Father must have been. All of which was disappointin' to Harold.
+He made no bones of sayin' so.
+
+"Why pretend to approve of one's parent," says he, "when approval is
+undeserved?"
+
+There was a lot of other folks that Harold disapproved of too. In fact,
+he was a mighty critical youth, only bein' able to entertain a good
+opinion of but one certain party. At any other time I expect he'd have
+given me an earache; but I'd been handed so much silence by our double
+Romeo-Juliet bunch that most any kind of conversation was welcome just
+then. So I lets him spiel away.
+
+And, say, he acts like he was hungry for the chance. Why, he gives me his
+ideas on every subject you could think of, from the way Napoleon got
+himself started on the toboggan, to the folly of eatin' fried ham for
+breakfast. He sure was a wonder, that kid! Two solid hours we chinned
+there in the summerhouse, and it was almost by main strength I broke away
+for a one o'clock dinner.
+
+Then, just as I'd got settled comf'table on the veranda in the afternoon,
+he shows up and begins again. There was nothin' diffident or backward
+about Harold. He didn't have any doubts about whether he was welcome or
+not, and his confidence about bein' able to entertain was amazin'.
+
+It didn't do any good to throw out hints that perhaps he was bein' missed
+at home, or to yawn and pretend you was sleepy. He was as persistent as a
+mosquito singin' its evenin' song, and most as irritatin'. Twice I gets
+up and pikes off, tryin' to shake him; but Harold trails right along too.
+Maybe I'd yearned for conversation. Well, I was gettin' it.
+
+At last I grows desp'rate, and in about two minutes more he would have
+been led home to Mother with the request that she tether him on her side
+of the fence, when I sees two of the lovers strollin' off to find a nook
+that wa'n't preempted by the other pair. And all of a sudden I has this
+rosy thought.
+
+"Harold," says I, "it's most too bad, your wastin' all this flossy talk
+on me, who can't appreciate its fine points as I should, when there go
+some young people who might be tickled to death to have you join 'em.
+Suppose you try cheerin' 'em up?"
+
+"Why," says Harold, "I had not observed them before. Thank you for the
+suggestion. I will join them at once."
+
+Does he? Say, for the next couple of hours I had the time of my life
+watchin' the maneuvers. First off I expect they must have thought him
+kind of cute, same as I did; but it wa'n't long before they begun tryin'
+to lose him. If they shifted positions once, they did a dozen times, from
+the summerhouse to the rocks, then up to the veranda and back again, with
+Harold Burbank taggin' right along and spoutin' his best. He tackles
+first one pair, and then the other, until fin'lly they all retreats into
+the house. Harold hesitates a little about walkin' through the door after
+'em, until I waves my hand cordial.
+
+"Make yourself right to home, Harold," says I. "Keep 'em cheered up."
+
+Not until he drives the girls off to their rooms and has Bobbie and
+Charles glarin' murderous at him, does he quit the sport and retire for
+supper.
+
+"Come over again this evenin'," says I. "You're makin' a hit."
+
+Harold thanks me some more and says he will. He's a great one to keep his
+word too. Bobbie and Marjorie have hardly snuggled up in one end of a
+hammock to watch the moon do things to the wavelets before here is
+Harold, with a fresh line of talk that he's bent on deliverin' while the
+mood is on.
+
+Gettin' no answer from his audience didn't bother him a bit; for passin'
+out the monologue is his strong suit. Not to seem partial, he trails down
+Charlie and Helen and converses with them too. Course, all this occurrin'
+outside, I couldn't watch everything that took place; but I sits in the
+lib'ry with Sadie a lot more contented than I'd been before that week.
+
+And when Marjorie drifts in alone, along about nine o'clock, and goes to
+drummin' on the piano, I smiles. Ten minutes later Helen appears too; and
+it's only when neither of the boys show up that I begins wonderin'. I
+asks no questions; but goes out on a scoutin' trip. There's nobody on the
+veranda at all. Down by the waterfront, though, I could hear voices, and
+I goes sleuthin' in that direction.
+
+"Yes," I could hear Harold sayin' as I got most to the boat landin', "the
+phosphorescence that ignorant sailors attribute to electricity in the air
+is really a minute marine animal which----"
+
+I expect I'll never know the rest; for just then there's a break in the
+lecture.
+
+"One, two, three--now!" comes from Bobbie, and before Harold can let out
+a single squeal they've grabbed him firm and secure, one by the heels and
+the other by the collar, and they've begun sousin' him up and down off
+the edge of the float. It was high tide too.
+
+"Uggle-guggle! Wow!" remarks Harold between splashes.
+
+"That's right," observes Charles through, his teeth. "Swallow a lot of
+it, you windbag! It'll do you good."
+
+Course, these young gents was guests of mine, and I hadn't interfered
+before with their partic'lar way of enjoyin' themselves; so I couldn't
+begin now. But after they was through, and a draggled, chokin',
+splutterin' youth had gone beatin' it up the path and over towards the
+next place, I strolls down to meet 'em as they are comin' up to the
+house.
+
+"Hope you didn't see what happened down there just now, Professor," says
+Bobbie.
+
+"Me?" says I. "Well, if I did I can forget it quick."
+
+"Thanks, old man!" says both of 'em, pattin' me friendly on the
+shoulder.
+
+"The little beast!" adds Charles. "He had the nerve to say you had put
+him up to it. That's what finally earned him his ducking, you know."
+
+"Well, well!" says I. "Such a nice spoken youngster too!"
+
+"Huh!" says Bobbie. "I suppose there'll be no end of a row about this
+when he gets home with his tale; but we'll stand for it. Meanwhile let's
+go up and get the girls to give us some music."
+
+Say, I don't believe Harold ever mentioned it to a soul. It's a funny
+thing too, but he hasn't been over here since. And someway, gettin'
+better acquainted with the boys in that fashion, made it pleasanter all
+round.
+
+But no more entertainin' lovers for us! Harolds ain't common enough.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+CORNELIA SHOWS SOME CLASS
+
+
+"Oh, by the way, Shorty," says Sadie to me the other mornin', just as I'm
+makin' an early get-away for town.
+
+"Another postscript, eh?" says I. "Well, let it come over speedy."
+
+"It's something for Mrs. Purdy-Pell," says she. "I'd almost forgotten."
+
+"Is it orderin' some fancy groceries, or sendin' out a new laundry
+artist?" says I. "If it is, why I guess I can----"
+
+"No, no," says Sadie, givin' my tie an extra pat and brushin' some
+imaginary dust off my coat collar; "it's about Cousin Cornelia. She's in
+town, you know, and neither of the Purdy-Pells can get in to see her
+before next week on account of their garden party, and Cornelia is
+staying at a hotel alone, and they're a little anxious about her. So look
+her up, won't you? I told them you would. You don't mind, do you?"
+
+"Me?" says I. "Why, I've been waitin' for this. Makin' afternoon calls on
+weepy old maids is my specialty."
+
+"There, there!" says Sadie, followin' me out on the veranda. "Don't play
+the martyr! Perhaps Cornelia isn't the most entertaining person in the
+world, for she certainly has had her share of trouble; but it isn't going
+to hurt you merely to find out how she is situated and ask if you can be
+of any help to her. You know, if there was anything she could do for us,
+she would----"
+
+"Oh, sure!" says I. "If I'm ever brought home on a shutter, I shall look
+for Cornelia to be waitin' on the mat with a needle and thread, ready to
+sew mournin' bands on the help."
+
+That seems to be Cousin Cornelia's steady job in life, tendin' out on the
+sick and being in at the obsequies. Anyway, she's been at it ever since
+we knew her. She's a cousin of Mr. Purdy-Pell's, and his branch of the
+fam'ly, being composed mainly of antiques and chronic invalids, has been
+shufflin' off in one way or another for the last three or four years at
+the rate of about one every six months.
+
+Course, it was kind of sad to see a fam'ly peter out that way; but, as a
+matter of fact, most of 'em was better off. At first the Purdy-Pells
+started in to chop all their social dates for three months after each
+sorrowful event; but when they saw they was being let in for a continuous
+performance, they sort of detailed Cousin Cornelia to do their heavy
+mournin' and had a black edge put on their stationery.
+
+Maybe Cornelia didn't exactly yearn for the portfolio; but she didn't
+have much choice about taking it. She was kind of a hanger-on, Cornelia
+was, you see, and she was used to going where she was sent. So when word
+would come that Aunt Mehitabel's rheumatism was worse and was threatenin'
+her heart, that meant a hurry call for Cousin Cornelia. She'd pack a
+couple of suit cases full of black skirts and white shirtwaists, and off
+she'd go, not showin' up again at the Purdy-Pells' town house until Aunty
+had been safely planted and the headstone ordered.
+
+You couldn't say but what she did it thorough, too; for she'd come back
+wearin' a long crape veil and lookin' pasty faced and wore out. Don't
+know as I ever saw her when she wa'n't either just comin' from where
+there'd been a funeral, or just startin' for where there was likely to be
+one.
+
+So she didn't cut much of a figure in all the gay doin's the Purdy-Pells
+was always mixed up in. And yet she wasn't such a kiln dried prune as you
+might expect, after all. Rather a well built party, Cornelia was, with a
+face that would pass in a crowd, and a sort of longin' twist to her mouth
+corners as if she wanted to crack a smile now and then, providin' the
+chance would only come her way.
+
+And it wa'n't hardly a square deal to list her with the U.B.'s as soon as
+we did; for all this time she was doing the chief mourner act she was
+engaged to young Durgin. First off it was understood that she was waitin'
+for him to settle on whether he was goin' to be a minister or a doctor,
+him fiddlin' round at college, now takin' one course and then another;
+but at last he makes up his mind to chuck both propositions and take a
+hack at the law.
+
+Durgin got there, too, which was more or less of a surprise to all hands,
+and actually broke in as partner in a good firm. Then it was a case of
+Durgin waitin' for Cornelia; for about that time the relations got to
+droppin' off in one-two-three order, and she seemed to think that so long
+as she'd started in on the job of ridin' in the first carriage, she ought
+to see it through.
+
+Whether it was foolish of her or not, ain't worth while debatin' now.
+Anyhow, she stuck to it until the last one had cashed in, puttin' Durgin
+off from month to month and year to year. Then it turns out that the last
+of the bunch, Uncle Theodore, had left her a good-sized wad that
+Purdy-Pell had always supposed was comin' to him, but which he didn't
+grudge to Cornelia a bit.
+
+So there she was, all the lingerin' ones off her hands, and her sportin'
+a bank account of her own. She's some tired out, though; so, after
+sendin' Durgin word that they might as well wait until fall now, she
+hikes off to some little place in New Hampshire and spends the summer
+restin' up. Next she comes down unexpected and hits New York.
+
+In the meantime, though, Durgin has suddenly decided to scratch his entry
+for that partic'lar Matrimonial Handicap. Not that he's seriously
+int'rested in somebody else, but he's kind of got weary hangin' around,
+and he's seen a few livelier ones than Cornelia, and he feels that
+somehow him and her have made a great mistake. You know how they're apt
+to talk when they get chilly below the ankles? He don't hand this
+straight out to Cornelia, mind you, but goes to Mrs. Purdy-Pell and Sadie
+with the tale, wantin' to know what he'd better do.
+
+Now I ain't got any grouch against Durgin. He's all right, I expect, in
+his way, more or less of a stiff necked, mealy mouthed chump, I always
+thought; but they say he's nice to his old mother, and he's makin' good
+in the law business, and he ain't bad to look at. The women folks takes
+his side right off. They say they don't blame him a bit, and, without
+stoppin' to think how Cousin Cornelia is going to feel left alone there
+on the siding, they get busy pickin' out new candidates for Durgin to
+choose from.
+
+Well, that's the situation when I'm handed this assignment to go and
+inspect the head of the Purdy-Pells' obituary department and see if she's
+all comfy. Couldn't have weighed very heavy on my mind; for I don't think
+of it until late afternoon, just as I'm startin' to pull out for home.
+Then I says to myself that maybe it'll do just as well if I ring her up
+on the 'phone at her hotel. She's in, all right, and I explains over the
+wire how anxious I am to know if she's all right, and hopes nobody has
+tried to kidnap her yet, and asks if there's anything I can do.
+
+"Why, how kind of you, Mr. McCabe!" says Cornelia. "Yes, I am perfectly
+well and quite safe here."
+
+"Good!" says I. And then, seein' how easy I was gettin' out of it, I has
+to pile on the agony a little by addin', "Ain't there some way I can be
+useful, though? No errands you want done, or any place you'd like to be
+towed around to, eh?"
+
+"Why--why----" says she, hesitatin'. "Oh, but I couldn't think of
+troubling you, you know."
+
+"Why not?" says I, gettin' reckless. "Just remember that I'd be tickled
+to death, any time you push the button."
+
+"We-e-ell," says she, "we were just wishing, Miss Stover and I, that we
+did have some gentleman friend who would----"
+
+"Count me in," says I. "What's the game? Trip to Woodlawn Cemetery some
+day, or do you want to be piloted up to Grant's Tomb?"
+
+No, it wa'n't either of them festive splurges she had in mind. They
+wanted a dinner escort for that evenin', she and Miss Stover. The other
+lady, she goes on to say, is a school teacher from up Boston way, that
+she'd made friends with durin' the summer. Miss Stover was takin' a year
+off, for the benefit of her nerves, and before she sailed on her Cook's
+trip abroad she thought she'd like to see a little of New York. They'd
+been tryin' to knock around some alone, and had got along all right
+daytimes, but hadn't dared venture out much at night. So if I wanted to
+be real generous, and it wouldn't be too much of a bore, they'd be very
+thankful if I would----
+
+"In a minute," says I and, seein' I was up against it anyhow, I thought I
+might as well do it cheerful. "I'll be up about six, eh?"
+
+"Chee!" says Swifty Joe, who always has his ear stretched out on such
+occasions, "you make a noise like you was fixin' up a date."
+
+"What good hearin' you have, Swifty!" says I. "Some day, though, you'll
+strain one of them side flaps of yours. Yes, this is a date, and it's
+with two of the sportiest female parties that ever dodged an old ladies'
+home."
+
+Excitin' proposition, wa'n't it? I spends the next half-hour battin' my
+head to think of some first class food parlor where I could cart a couple
+like this Boston schoolma'am and Cousin Cornelia without shockin' 'em.
+There was the Martha Washington; but I knew I'd be barred there. Also
+there was some quiet fam'ly hotels I'd heard of up town; but I couldn't
+remember exactly what street any of 'em was on.
+
+"Maybe Cornelia will have some plans of her own," thinks I, as I gets
+into my silk faced dinner jacket and V-cut vest. "And I hope she ain't
+wearin' more'n two thicknesses of crape veil now."
+
+Well, soon after six I slides out, hops on one of these shed-as-you-enter
+surface cars, and rides up to the hotel. I'd been holdin' down one of the
+velvet chairs in the ladies' parlor for near half an hour, and was
+wonderin' if Cornelia had run out of black headed pins, or what, when I
+pipes off a giddy specimen in wistaria costume that drifts in and begins
+squintin' around like she was huntin' for some one. Next thing I knew
+she'd spotted me and was sailin' right over.
+
+"Oh, there you are!" she gurgles, holdin' out her hand.
+
+"Excuse me, lady," says I, sidesteppin' behind the chair, "but ain't you
+tryin' to tag the wrong party?"
+
+"Why," says she, lettin' out a chuckle, "don't you know me, Mr. McCabe?"
+
+"Not yet," says I; "but it looks like I would if----Great snakes!"
+
+And honest, you could hardly have covered my face cavity with a waffle
+iron when I drops to the fact that it's Cousin Cornelia. In place of the
+dismal female I'd been expectin', here's a chirky party in vivid regalia
+that shows class in every line. Oh, it's a happy days uniform, all right,
+from the wide brimmed gauze lid with the long heliotrope feather trailin'
+over one side, to the lavender kid pumps.
+
+"Gee!" I gasps. "The round is on me, Miss Cornelia. But I wa'n't lookin'
+for you in--in----"
+
+"I know," says she. "This is the first time I've worn colors for years,
+and I feel so odd. I hope I don't look too----"
+
+"You look all to the skookum," says I.
+
+It wa'n't any jolly, either. There never was any real sharp angles to
+Cornelia, and now I come to reckon up I couldn't place her as more'n
+twenty-six or twenty-seven at the outside. So why shouldn't she show up
+fairly well in a Gibson model?
+
+"It's so good of you to come to our rescue," says she. "Miss Stover will
+be down presently. Now, where shall we go to dinner?"
+
+Well, I see in a minute I've got to revise my plans; so I begins namin'
+over some of the swell grillrooms and cafes.
+
+"Oh, we have been to most of those, all by ourselves," says Cornelia.
+"What we would like to see to-night is some real--well, a place where we
+couldn't go alone, out somewhere--an automobile resort, for instance."
+
+"Whe-e-ew!" says I through my front teeth. "Say, Miss Cornie, but you are
+gettin' out of the bereft class for fair! I guess it's comin' to you,
+though. Now jest let me get an idea of how far you want to go."
+
+"Why," says she, shruggin' her shoulders,--"how is it you put such
+things?--the limit, I suppose?"
+
+"Honest?" says I. "Then how about Clover Blossom Inn?"
+
+Heard about that joint, haven't you? Of course. There's a lot of joy-ride
+tank stations strung along Jerome-ave. and the Yonkers road; but when it
+comes to a genuine tabasco flavored chorus girls' rest, the Clover
+Blossom has most of the others lookin' like playgrounds for little
+mothers. But Cornie don't do any dodgin'.
+
+"Fine!" says she. "I've read about that inn." Then she hurries on to plan
+out the details. I must go over to Times Square and hire a nice looking
+touring car for the evening. And I mustn't let Miss Stover know how much
+it costs; for Cornelia wants to do that part of it by her lonely.
+
+"The dinner we are to go shares on," says she.
+
+"Couldn't think of it," says I. "Let that stand as my blow."
+
+"No, indeed," says Cornelia. "We have the money all put aside, and I
+sha'n't like it. Here it is, and I want you to be sure you spend the
+whole of it," and with that she shoves over a couple of fives.
+
+I couldn't help grinnin' as I takes it. Maybe you've settled a dinner
+bill for three and a feed for the shofer at the Clover Blossom; but not
+with a ten-spot, eh?
+
+And while Cornelia is goin' back in the elevator after the schoolma'am, I
+scoots over to get a machine. After convincin' two or three of them
+leather capped pirates that I didn't want to buy their blamed outfits, I
+fin'lly beats one down to twenty-five and goes back after the ladies.
+
+[Illustration: "Cornelia whispered about the peroxide puffed girl"]
+
+Miss Stover don't turn out to be any such star as Cornelia; but she don't
+look so much like a suffragette as I expected. She's plump, and middle
+aged, and plain dressed; but there's more or less style to the way she
+carries herself. Also she has just a suspicion of eye twinkle behind the
+glasses, which suggests that perhaps some of this programme is due to
+her.
+
+"All aboard for the Clover Blossom!" says I, handin' 'em into the
+tonneau; "that is, as soon as I run in here to the telephone booth."
+
+It had come to me only at that minute what a shame it was this stunt of
+Cornelia's was goin' to be wasted on an audience that couldn't appreciate
+the fine points, and I'd thought of a scheme that might supply the gap.
+So I calls up an old friend of mine and has a little confab.
+
+By the time we'd crossed the Harlem and had got straightened out on the
+parkway with our gas lamps lighted, and the moon comin' up over the
+trees, and hundreds of other cars whizzin' along in both directions,
+Cornelia and her schoolma'am friend was chatterin' away like a couple of
+boardin' school girls. There's no denyin' that it does get into your
+blood, that sort of ridin'. Why, even I begun to feel some frisky!
+
+And look at Cornelia! For years she'd been givin' directions about where
+to put the floral wreaths, and listenin' to wills being read, and all
+summer long she'd been buried in a little backwoods boardin' house, where
+the most excitin' event of the day was watchin' the cows come home, or
+going down for the mail. Can you blame her for workin' up a cheek flush
+and rattlin' off nonsense?
+
+Clover Blossom Inn does look fine and fancy at night, too, with all the
+colored lights strung around, and the verandas crowded with tables, and
+the Gypsy orchestra sawin' away, and new parties landin' from the
+limousines every few minutes. Course, I knew they'd run against perfect
+ladies hittin' up cocktails and cigarettes in the cloak room, and hear
+more or less high spiced remarks; but this was what they'd picked out to
+view.
+
+So I orders the brand of dinner the waiter hints I ought to have,--little
+necks, okra soup, broiled lobster, guinea hen, and so on, with a large
+bottle of fizz decoratin' the silver tub on the side and some sporty
+lookin' mineral for me. It don't make any diff'rence whether you've got a
+wealthy water thirst or not, when you go to one of them tootsy palaces
+you might just as well name your vintage first as last; for any cheap
+skates of suds consumers is apt to find that the waiter's made a mistake
+and their table has been reserved for someone else.
+
+But if you don't mind payin' four prices, and can stand the comp'ny at
+the adjoinin' tables, just being part of the picture and seeing it from
+the inside is almost worth the admission. If there's any livelier purple
+spots on the map than these gasolene road houses from eight-thirty P. M.
+to two-thirty in the mornin', I'll let you name 'em.
+
+Cornelia rather shies at the sight of the fat bottle peekin' out of the
+cracked ice; but she gets over that feelin' after Miss Stover has
+expressed her sentiments.
+
+"Champagne!" says the schoolma'am. "Oh, how perfectly delightful! Do you
+know, I always have wanted to know how it tasted."
+
+Say, she knows all about it now. Not that she put away any more'n a lady
+should,--at the Clover Blossom,--but she had tackled a dry Martini first,
+and then she kept on tastin' and tastin' her glass of fizz, and the
+waiter keeps fillin' it up, and that twinkle in her eye develops more and
+more, and her conversation gets livelier and livelier. So does
+Cornelia's. They gets off some real bright things, too. You'd never guess
+there was so much fun in Cornie, or that she could look so much like a
+stunner.
+
+She was just leanin' over to whisper something to me about the peroxide
+puffed girl at the next table, and I was tryin' to stand bein' tickled in
+the neck by that long feather of hers while I listens, and Miss Stover
+was snuggled up real chummy on the other side, when I looks up the aisle
+and sees a little group watchin' us with their mouths open and their
+eyebrows up.
+
+Leadin' the way is Pinckney. Oh, he'd done his part, all right, just as
+I'd told him over the wire; for right behind him is Durgin, starin' at
+Cornelia until he was pop eyed.
+
+But that wa'n't all. Trust Pinckney to add something. Beyond Durgin is
+Mrs. Purdy-Pell--and Sadie. Now, I've seen Mrs. McCabe when she's been
+some jarred; but I don't know as I ever watched the effect of such a jolt
+as this. You see, Cornelia's back was to her, and all Sadie can see is
+that wistaria lid with the feather danglin' down my neck.
+
+Sadie don't indulge in any preliminaries. She marches right along, with
+her chin in the air, and glues them Irish blue eyes of hers on me in a
+way I can feel yet. "Well, I must say!" says she.
+
+"Eh?" says I, tryin' hard to put on a pleased grin. "So Pinckney brought
+you along too, did he? Lovely evenin', ain't it?"
+
+"Why, Sadie?" says Cornelia, jumpin' up and givin' 'em a full face view.
+And you should have seen how that knocks the wind out of Sadie.
+
+"Wha-a-at!" says she. "You?"
+
+"Of course," says Cornie. "And we're just having the grandest lark,
+and----Oh! Why, Durgin! Where in the world did you come from? How
+jolly!"
+
+"Ain't it?" says I. "You see, Sadie, I'm carryin' out instructions."
+
+Well, the minute she gets wise that it's all a job that Pinckney and I
+have put up between us, and discovers that my giddy lookin' friend is
+only Cousin Cornelia doin' the butterfly act, the thunder storm is all
+over. The waiter shoves up another table, and they plants Durgin next to
+Cornie, and the festivities takes a new start.
+
+Did Durgin boy forget all about them chilly feet of his? Why, you could
+almost see the frost startin' out before he'd said a dozen words, and by
+the time he'd let the whole effect sink in, he was no nearer contractin'
+chilblains than a Zulu with his heels in the campfire.
+
+What pleases me most, though, was the scientific duck I made in the last
+round. We'd gone clear through the menu, and they was finishin' up their
+cordials, when I spots the waiter comin' with a slip of paper on his tray
+as long as a pianola roll.
+
+"Hey, Pinckney," says I, "see what's comin' now!"
+
+And when Pinckney reached around and discovers what it is, he digs down
+for his roll like a true sport, never battin' an eyelash.
+
+"You would ring in the fam'ly on me, would you," says I, "when I'm
+showin' lady friends the sights?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+DOPING OUT AN ODD ONE
+
+
+Say, notice any deep sea roll about my walk? No? Well, maybe you can get
+the tarry perfume as I pass by? Funny you don't; for I've been a Vice
+Commodore for most three weeks now. Yes, that's on the level--belay my
+spinnaker taffrail if it ain't!
+
+That's what I get for bein' one of the charter members of the Rockhurst
+Yacht Club. You didn't, eh? Well, say, I'm one of the yachtiest yachters
+that ever jibbed a gangway. Not that I do any sailin' exactly; but I
+guess Sadie and me each paid good money for our shares of club stock, and
+if that ain't as foolish an act as you can find in the nautical calendar,
+then I'll eat the binnacle boom.
+
+Course, this Vice Commodore stunt was sort of sprung on me; for I'd been
+such an active member I didn't even know the bloomin' clubhouse was
+finished until here the other day I gets this bulletin from the annual
+meetin', along with the programme for the openin' exercises.
+
+"Gee!" says I. "Vice Commodore! Say, there must be some mistake about
+this."
+
+"Not at all," says Sadie.
+
+"Sure there is," says I. "Why, I hardly know one end of a boat from the
+other; and besides I ain't got any clubby habits. They've been let in
+wrong, that's all. I'll resign."
+
+"You'll do nothing of the sort!" says Sadie. "When I took all that
+trouble to have you win over that ridiculous Bronson-Smith!"
+
+"Eh?" says I. "Been playin' the Mrs. Taft, have you? In that case, I
+expect I'll have to stay with it. But, honest, you can look for a season
+of perfectly punk Vice Commodorin'."
+
+As it turns out, though, there ain't one in ten members that knows much
+more about yachtin' than I do. Navigatin' porch rockers, orderin' all
+hands up for fancy drinks, and conductin' bridge whist regattas was their
+chief sea-goin' accomplishments; and when it come to makin' myself
+useful, who was it, I'd like to know, that chucked the boozy steward off
+the float when he had two of the house committee treed up the signal
+mast?
+
+I suspect that's how it is I'm played up so prominent for this house
+warmin' episode. Anyway, when I arrives there on the great night--me all
+got up fancy in a double breasted serge coat, white flannel pants, and
+cork soled canvas shoes--I finds they've put me on the reception
+committee; and that, besides welcomin' invited guests, I'm expected to
+keep one eye peeled for outsiders, to see that nobody starts nothin'.
+
+So I'm on deck, as you might say, and more or less conspicuous, when this
+Larchmont delegation is landed and comes stringin' up. It was "Ahoy
+there, Captain This!" and "How are you, Captain That?" from the rest of
+the committee, who was some acquainted; and me buttin' around earnest
+tryin' to find someone to shake hands with, when I runs across this thick
+set party in the open front Tuxedo regalia, with his opera hat down over
+one eye and a long cigar raked up coquettish from the sou'west corner of
+his face.
+
+Know him? I guess! It's Peter K. Tracey; yes, the one that has his name
+on so many four-sheet posters. Noticed how he always has 'em read, ain't
+you? "Mr. Peter K. Tracey presents Booth Keene, the sterling young
+actor." Never forgets that "Mr."; but, say, I knew him when he signed it
+just "P. Tracey," and chewed his tongue some at gettin' that down.
+
+Them was the days when he'd have jumped at the chance of managin' my ring
+exhibits, and he was known in sportin' circles as Chunk Tracey. I ain't
+followed all his moves since then; but I know he got to handlin' the big
+heavyweights on exhibition tours, broke into the theatrical game with an
+animal show that was a winner, and has stuck to the boxoffice end ever
+since.
+
+Why shouldn't he, with a half ownership in a mascot Rube drama that never
+has less than six road companies playin' it, and at least one hit on
+Broadway every season? I admit I was some surprised, though, to hear of
+him buyin' a house on Fifth-ave. and makin' a stab at mixin' in society.
+That last I could hardly believe; but here he was, and lookin' as much
+jarred at findin' me as I was to see him.
+
+"Well, I'll be hanged!" says I. "Chunk Tracey!"
+
+"Why, hello, Shorty!" says he, and neither one of us remembers the
+"Charmed to see yuh, old chappy" lines we should have been shootin' off.
+Seems he'd been towed along with a bunch of near-swells that didn't dare
+treat him as if he really belonged, and he was almost frothin' at the
+mouth.
+
+"Talk about your society folks!" says he. "Why,--blankety blank 'em!--I
+can go down the Rialto any afternoon, pick up a dozen people at
+twenty-five a week, drill 'em four days, and give a better imitation than
+this crowd ever thought of putting up!"
+
+"Yes; but look who you are, Chunk," says I.
+
+"I know," says he.
+
+And he meant it too. He always was about the cockiest little rooster in
+the business; but I'd rather expected eight or ten years of ups and downs
+in the theatrical game, bein' thrown out of the trust and crawlin' back
+on his knees would have tempered him down some.
+
+You couldn't notice it, though. In fact, this chesty, cocksure attitude
+seemed to have grown on him, and it was plain that most of his soreness
+just now come from findin' himself in with a lot of folks that didn't
+take any special pains to admit what a great man he was. So, as him and
+me was sort of left to flock by ourselves, I undertook the job of
+supplyin' a few soothin' remarks, just for old time's sake. And that's
+how it was he got rung in on this little mix-up with Cap'n Spiller.
+
+You see, the way the committee had mapped it out, part of the doin's was
+a grand illumination of the fleet. Anyway, they had all the craft they
+could muster anchored in a semicircle off the end of the float and
+trimmed up with Japanese lanterns. Well, just about time for lightin' up,
+into the middle of the fleet comes driftin' a punk lookin' old sloop with
+dirty, patched sails, some shirts and things hangin' from the riggin',
+and a length of stovepipe stickin' through the cabin roof. When the
+skipper has struck the exact center, he throws over his mud hook and lets
+his sail run.
+
+Not bein' posted on the details, I didn't know but that was part of the
+show, until the chairman of my committee comes rushin' up to me all
+excited, and points it out.
+
+"Oh, I say, McCabe!" says he. "Do you see that?"
+
+"If I didn't," says I, "I could almost smell it from here. Some new
+member, is it?"
+
+"Member!" he gasps. "Why, it's some dashed old fisherman! We--we cawn't
+have him stay there, you know."
+
+"Well," says I, "he seems to be gettin' plenty of advice on that point."
+And he was; for they was shoutin' things at him through a dozen
+megaphones.
+
+"But you know, McCabe," goes on the chairman, "you ought to go out and
+send him away. That's one of your duties."
+
+"Eh?" says I. "How long since I've been official marine bouncer for this
+organization? G'wan! Go tell him yourself!"
+
+We had quite an argument over it too, with Peter K. chimin' in on my
+side; but, while the chappy insists that it's my job to fire the old
+hooker off the anchorage, I draws the line at interferin' with anything
+beyond the shore. Course, it might spoil the effect; but the way it
+struck me was that we didn't own any more of Long Island Sound than
+anyone else, and I says so flat.
+
+That must have been how the boss of the old sloop felt about it too; for
+he don't pay any attention to the howls or threats. He just makes things
+snug and then goes below and starts pokin' about in his dinky little
+cabin. Judgin' by the motions, he was gettin' a late supper.
+
+Anyway, they couldn't budge him, even though half the club was stewin'
+about it. And, someway, that seemed to tickle Chunk and me a lot. We
+watched him spread his grub out on the cabin table, roll up his sleeves,
+and square away like he had a good appetite, just as if he'd been all by
+himself, instead of right here in the midst of so many flossy yachtsmen.
+
+He even had music to eat by; for part of the programme was the turnin'
+loose of one of these high priced cabinet disk machines, that was on the
+Commodore's big schooner, and feedin' it with Caruso and Melba records.
+There was so much chatterin' goin' on around us on the verandas, and so
+many corks poppin' and glasses clinkin', that the skipper must have got
+more benefit from the concert than anyone else. At last he wipes his
+mouth on his sleeve careful, fills his pipe, and crawls out on deck to
+enjoy the view.
+
+It was well worth lookin' at too; for, although there was most too many
+clouds for the moon to do much execution, here was all the yachts lighted
+up, and the clubhouse blazin' and gay, and the water lappin' gentle in
+between. He gazes out at it placid for a minute or so, and then we see
+him dive down into the cabin. He comes back with something or other that
+we couldn't make out, and the next thing I knows I finds myself keepin'
+time with my foot to one of them lively, swingin' old tunes which might
+have been "The Campbells Are Coming" or might not; but anyway it was
+enough to give you that tingly sensation in your toes. And it was
+proceedin' from the after deck of that old hulk.
+
+"Well, well!" says I. "Bagpipes!"
+
+"Bagpipes be blowed!" says Chunk. "That's an accordion he's playing.
+Listen!"
+
+Say, I was listenin', and with both ears. Also other folks was beginnin'
+to do the same. Inside of five minutes, too, all the chatter has died
+down, and as I glanced around at the tables I could see that whole crowd
+of fancy dressed folks noddin' and beatin' time with their fans and
+cigars and fizz glasses. Even the waiters was standin' still, or tiptoin'
+so's to take it in.
+
+Ever hear one of them out-of-date music bellows handled by a natural born
+artist? Say, I've always been partial to accordions myself, though I
+never had the courage to own up to it in public; but this was the first
+time I'd ever heard one pumped in that classy fashion.
+
+Music! Why, as he switches off onto "The Old Folks at Home," you'd
+thought there was a church organ and a full orchestra out there! Maybe
+comin' across the water had something to do with it; but hanged if it
+wa'n't great! And of all the fine old tunes he gave us--"Nellie Gray,"
+"Comin' Through the Rye," "Annie Laurie," and half a dozen more.
+
+"Chunk," says I, as the concert ends and the folks begin to applaud,
+"there's only one thing to be done in a case like this. Lemme take that
+lid of yours."
+
+"Certainly," says he, and drops a fiver into it before he passes it over.
+That wa'n't the only green money I collects, either, and by the time I've
+made the entire round I must have gathered up more'n a quart of spendin'
+currency.
+
+"Hold on there, Shorty," says Chunk, as I starts out to deliver the
+collection. "I'd like to go with you."
+
+"Come along, then," says I. "I guess some of these sailormen will row us
+out."
+
+What we had framed up was one of these husky, rugged, old hearts of oak,
+who would choke up some on receivin' the tribute and give us his blessin'
+in a sort of "Shore Acres" curtain speech. Part of that description he
+lives up to. He's some old, all right; but he ain't handsome or rugged.
+He's a lean, dyspeptic lookin' old party, with a wrinkled face colored up
+like a pair of yellow shoes at the end of a hard season. His hair is long
+and matted, and he ain't overly clean in any detail. He don't receive us
+real hearty, either.
+
+"Hey, keep your hands off that rail!" he sings out, reachin' for a
+boathook as we come alongside.
+
+"It's all right, Cap," says I. "We're friends."
+
+"Git out!" says he. "I ain't got any friends."
+
+"Sure you have, old scout," says I. "Anyway, there's a lot of people
+ashore that was mighty pleased with the way you tickled that accordion.
+Here's proof of it too," and I holds up the hat.
+
+"Huh!" says he, gettin' his eye on the contents. "Come aboard, then.
+Here, I guess you can stow that stuff in there," and blamed if he don't
+shove out an empty lard pail for me to dump the money in. That's as
+excited as he gets about it too.
+
+Say, I'd have indulged in about two more minutes of dialogue with that
+ugly faced old pirate, and then I'd beat it for shore good and disgusted,
+if it hadn't been for Chunk Tracey. But he jumps in, as enthusiastic as
+if he was interviewin' some foreign Prince, presses a twenty-five-cent
+perfecto on the Cap'n, and begins pumpin' out of him the story of his
+life.
+
+And when Chunk really enthuses it's got to be a mighty cold proposition
+that don't thaw some. Ten to one, too, if this had been a nice, easy
+talkin', gentle old party, willin' to tell all he knew in the first five
+minutes, Chunk wouldn't have bothered with him; but, because he don't
+show any gratitude, mushy or otherwise, and acts like he had a permanent,
+ingrowin' grouch, Chunk is right there with the persistence. He drags out
+of him that he's Cap'n Todd Spiller, hailin' originally from Castine,
+Maine, and that the name of his old tub is the Queen of the Seas. He says
+his chief business is clammin'; but he does a little fishin' and
+freightin' on the side. He don't work much, though, because it don't take
+a lot to keep him.
+
+"But you have a wife somewhere ashore, I suppose," suggests Chunk, "a
+dear old soul who waits anxiously for you to come back?"
+
+"Bah!" grunts Cap'n Spiller, knockin' the heel out of his corncob
+vicious. "I ain't got any use for women."
+
+"I see," says Chunk, gazin' up sentimental at the moon. "A blighted
+romance of youth; some fair, fickle maid who fled with another and left
+you alone?"
+
+"No such luck," says Spiller. "My trouble was havin' too many to once.
+Drat 'em!"
+
+And you'd most thought Chunk would have let it go at that; but not him!
+He only tackles Spiller along another line. "What I want to know,
+Captain," says he, "is where you learned to play the accordion so well."
+
+"Never learned 'tall," growls Spiller. "Just picked it up from a Portugee
+that tried to knife me afterwards."
+
+"You don't say!" says Chunk. "But there's the musician's soul in you. You
+love it, don't you? You use it to express your deep, unsatisfied
+longings?"
+
+"Guess so," says the Captain. "I allus plays most when my dyspepshy is
+worst. It's kind of a relief."
+
+"Um-m-m--ah!" says Chunk. "Many geniuses are that way. You must come into
+town, though, and let me take you to hear some real, bang up, classical
+music."
+
+"Not me!" grunts Spiller. "I can make all the music I want myself."
+
+"How about plays, then?" says Chunk. "Now, wouldn't you like to see the
+best show on Broadway?"
+
+"No, sir," says he, prompt and vigorous. "I ain't never seen any shows,
+and don't want to seen one, either."
+
+And, say, along about that time, what with the stale cookin' and bilge
+water scents that was comin' from the stuffy cabin, and this charmin'
+mood that old Spiller was in, I was gettin' restless. "Say, Chunk," I
+breaks in, "you may be enjoyin' this, all right; but I've got enough.
+It's me for shore! Goin' along?"
+
+"Not yet," says he. "Have the boat come back for me in about an hour."
+
+It was nearer two, though, before he shows up again, and his face is
+fairly beamin'.
+
+"Well," says I, "did you adopt the old pirate, or did he adopt you?"
+
+"Wait and see," says he, noddin' his head cocky. "Anyway, he's promised
+to show up at my office to-morrow afternoon."
+
+"You must be stuck on entertaining a grouchy old lemon like that," says
+I.
+
+"But he's a genius," says Chunk. "Just what I've been looking for as a
+head liner in a new vaudeville house I'm opening next month."
+
+"What!" says I. "You ain't thinkin' of puttin' that old sour face on the
+stage, are you? Say, you're batty!"
+
+"Batty, am I?" says Chunk, kind of swellin' up. "All right, I'll show
+you. I've made half a million, my boy, by just such batty moves as that.
+It's because I know people, know 'em through and through, from what
+they'll pay to hear, to the ones who can give 'em what they want. I'm a
+discoverer of talent, Shorty. Where do I get my stars from? Pick 'em up
+anywhere. I don't go to London and Paris and pay fancy salaries. I find
+my attractions first hand, sign' em up on long contracts, and take the
+velvet that comes in myself. That's my way, and I guess I've made good."
+
+"Maybe you have," says I; "but I'm guessin' this is where you stub your
+toe. Hot line that'll be for the head of a bill, won't it--an accordion
+player? Think you can get that across?"
+
+"Think!" says Chunk, gettin' indignant as usual, because someone suggests
+he can fall down on anything. "Why, I'm going to put that over twice a
+day, to twelve hundred-dollar houses! No, I don't think; I know!"
+
+And just for that it wouldn't have taken much urgin' for me to have put
+up a few yellow ones that he was makin' a wrong forecast.
+
+But, say, you didn't happen to be up to the openin' of Peter K.'s new
+Alcazar the other night, did you? Well, Sadie and I was, on account of
+being included in one of Chunk's complimentary box parties. And, honest,
+when they sprung that clouded moonlight water view, with the Long Island
+lights in the distance, and the Sound steamers passin' back and forth at
+the back, and the rocks in front, hanged if I didn't feel like I was on
+the veranda of our yacht club, watchin' it all over again, the same as it
+was that night!
+
+Then in from one side comes this boat; no ordinary property piece faked
+up from something in stock; but a life sized model that's a dead ringer
+for the old Queen of the Seas, even to the stovepipe and the shirts hung
+from the forestay. It comes floatin' in lazy and natural, and when Cap
+Spiller goes forward to heave over the anchor he drops it with a splash
+into real water. He's wearin' the same old costume,--shirt sleeves, cob
+pipe, and all,--and when he begins to putter around in the cabin, blamed
+if you couldn't smell the onions fryin' and the coffee boilin'. Yes, sir,
+Chunk had put it all on!
+
+Did the act get 'em interested? Say, there was fifteen straight minutes
+of this scenic business, with not a word said; but the house was so still
+I could hear my watch tickin'. But when he drags out that old accordion,
+plants himself on the cabin roof with one leg swingin' careless over the
+side, and opens up with them old tunes of his--well, he had 'em all with
+him, from the messenger boys in the twenty-five-cent gallery to the
+brokers in the fifteen-dollar boxes. He takes five curtain calls, and the
+orchestra circle was still demandin' more when they rung down the front
+drop.
+
+"Chunk," says I, as he shows up at our box, "I take it back. You sure
+have picked another winner."
+
+"Looks like it, don't it?" says he. "And whisper! A fifty-minute act for
+a hundred a week! That's the best of it. Up at the Columbus their top
+liner is costing them a thousand a day."
+
+"It's a cinch if you can hold onto him, eh?" says I.
+
+"Oh, I can hold him all right," says Chunk, waggin' his head confident.
+"I know enough about human nature to be sure of that. Of course, he's an
+odd freak; but this sort of thing will grow on him. The oftener he gets a
+hand like that, the more he'll want it, and inside of a fortnight that'll
+be what he lives for. Oh, I know people, from the ground up, inside and
+outside!"
+
+Well, I was beginnin' to think he did. And, havin' been on the inside of
+his deal, I got to takin' a sort of pride in this hit, almost as much as
+if I'd discovered the Captain myself. I used to go up about every
+afternoon to see old Spiller do his stunt and get 'em goin'. Gen'rally
+I'd lug along two or three friends, so I could tell 'em how it happened.
+
+Last Friday I was a little late for the act, and was just rushin' by the
+boxoffice, when I hears language floatin' out that I recognizes as a
+brand that only Chunk Tracey could deliver when he was good and warm
+under the collar. Peekin' in through the window, I sees him standin'
+there, fairly tearin' his hair.
+
+"What's up, Chunk?" says I. "You seem peeved."
+
+"Peeved!" he yells. "Why, blankety blank the scousy universe, I'm stark,
+raving mad! What do you think? Spiller has quit!"
+
+"Somebody overbid that hundred a week?" says I.
+
+"I wish they had; then I could get out an injunction and hold him on his
+contract," says Peter K. "But he's skipped, skipped for good. Read
+that."
+
+It's only a scrawly note he'd left pinned up in his dressin' room, and,
+while it ain't much as a specimen of flowery writin', it states his case
+more or less clear. Here's what it said:
+
+Mister P. K. Tracey;
+
+Sir:--I'm through being a fool actor. The money's all right if I needed
+it, which I doant, but I doant like makin' a fool of myself twict a day
+to please a lot of citty foalks I doant give a dam about annie way, I
+doant like livin' in a blamed hotel either, for there aint annie wheres
+to set and smoak and see the sun come up. I'd ruther be on my old bote,
+and that's whare I'm goin'. You needn't try to find me and git me to come
+back for I wont. You couldn't git me to act on that staige agin, ever.
+It's foolish.
+
+Yours, TODD SPILLER.
+
+"Now what in the name of all that's woolly," says Chunk, "would you say
+to a thing like that?"
+
+"Me?" says I. "I don't know. Maybe I'd start in by admittin' that to card
+index the minds of the whole human race was a good deal of a job for one
+party to tackle, even with a mighty intellect like yours. Also, if it was
+put up to me flat, I might agree with Spiller."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+HANDING BOBBY A BLANK
+
+
+Say, what do you make out of this plute huntin' business, anyway? Has the
+big money bunch got us down on the mat with our wind shut off and our
+pockets inside out; or is it just campaign piffle? Are we ghost dancin',
+or waltz dreamin', or what? It sure has me twisted up for fair, and I
+don't know whether I stand with the criminal rich or the predatory poor.
+
+That's all on account of a little mix-up I was rung into at the hotel
+Perzazzer the other day. No, we ain't livin' there reg'lar again. This
+was just a little fall vacation we was takin' in town, so Sadie can catch
+up with her shoppin', and of course the Perzazzer seems more or less like
+home to us.
+
+But it ain't often I've ever run against anything like this there. I've
+been thinkin' it over since, and it's left me with my feet in the air.
+No, you didn't read anything about it in the papers. But say, there's
+more goes on in one of them big joints every week than would fill a whole
+issue.
+
+Look at the population the Perzazzer's got,--over two thousand, countin'
+the help! Why, drop us down somewhere out in Iowa, and spread us around
+in separate houses, and there'd be enough to call for a third-class
+postmaster, a police force, and a board of trade. Bunched the way we are,
+all up and down seventeen stories, with every cubic foot accounted for,
+we don't cut much of a figure except on the checkbooks. You hear about
+the Perzazzer only when some swell gives a fancy blow-out, or a guest
+gets frisky in the public dining room.
+
+And anything in the shape of noise soon has the muffler put on it. We've
+got a whole squad of husky, two-handed, soft spoken gents who don't have
+anything else to do, and our champeen ruction extinguisher is Danny
+Reardon. To see him strollin' through the café, you might think he was a
+corporation lawyer studyin' how to spend his next fee; but let some
+ambitious wine opener put on the loud pedal, or have Danny get his eye on
+some Bridgeport dressmaker drawin' designs of the latest Paris fashions
+in the tea room, and you'll see him wake up. Nothing seems to get by
+him.
+
+So I was some surprised to find him havin' an argument with a couple of
+parties away up on our floor. Anyone could see with one eye that they was
+a pair of butt-ins. The tall, smooth faced gent in the black frock coat
+and the white tie had sky pilot wrote all over him; and the Perzazzer
+ain't just the place an out of town minister would pick out to stop at,
+unless he wanted to blow a year's salary into a week's board.
+
+Anyway, his runnin' mate was a dead give away. He looked like he might
+have just left a bench in the Oriental lodgin' house down at Chatham
+Square. He's a thin, gawky, pale haired youth, with tired eyes and a limp
+lower jaw that leaves his mouth half open all the time; and his costume
+looks like it had been made up from back door contributions,--a faded
+coat three sizes too small, a forty fat vest, and a pair of shiny black
+whipcord pants that someone had been married in about twenty years back.
+
+What gets me is why such a specimen should be trailin' around with a
+clean, decent lookin' chap like this minister. Maybe that's why I come to
+take any notice of their little debate. There's some men, though, that
+you always give a second look at, and this minister gent was one of that
+kind. It wa'n't until I see how he tops Danny by a head that I notices
+how well built he is; and I figures that if he was only in condition, and
+knew how to handle himself, he could put up a good lively scrap.
+Something about his jaw hints that to me; but of course, him bein' a
+Bible pounder, I don't expect anything of the kind.
+
+"Yes, I understand all that," Danny was tellin' him; "but you'd better
+come down to the office, just the same."
+
+"My dear man," says the minister, "I have been to the office, as I told
+you before, and I could get no satisfaction there. The person I wish to
+see is on the ninth floor. They say he is out. I doubt it, and, as I have
+come six hundred miles just to have a word with him, I insist on a chance
+to----"
+
+"Sure!" says Danny. "You'll get your chance, only it's against the rules
+to allow strangers above the ground floor. Now, you come along with me
+and you'll be all right." With that Danny gets a grip on the gent's arm
+and starts to walk him to the elevator. But he don't go far. The next
+thing Danny knows he's been sent spinnin' against the other wall. Course,
+he wa'n't lookin' for any such move; but it was done slick and prompt.
+
+"Sorry," says the minister, shovin' his cuffs back in place; "but I must
+ask you to keep your hands off."
+
+I see what Danny was up to then. He looks as cool as a soda fountain; but
+he's red behind his ears, and he's fishin' the chain nippers out of his
+side pocket. I knows that in about a minute the gent in the frock coat
+will have both hands out of business. Even at that, it looks like an even
+bet, with somebody gettin' hurt more or less. And blamed if I didn't hate
+to see that spunky minister get mussed up, just for objectin' to takin'
+the quiet run out. So I pushes to the front.
+
+"Well, well!" says I, shovin' out a hand to the parson, as though he was
+someone I'd been lookin' for. "So you showed up, eh?"
+
+"Why," says he,--"why--er----"
+
+"Yes, I know," says I, headin' him off. "You can tell me about that
+later. Bring your friend right in; this is my door. It's all right,
+Danny; mistakes will happen."
+
+And before any of 'em knows what's up, Danny is left outside with his
+mouth open, while I've towed the pair of strays into our sittin' room,
+and shooed Sadie out of the way. The minister looks kind of dazed; but he
+keeps his head well.
+
+"Really," says he, gazin' around, "I am sure there must be some
+misunderstanding."
+
+"You bet," says I, "and it was gettin' worse every minute. About two
+shakes more, and you'd been the center of a local disturbance that would
+have landed you before the police sergeant."
+
+"Do you mean," says he, "that I cannot communicate with a guest in this
+hotel without being liable to arrest?"
+
+"That's the size of it," says I. "Danny had the bracelets all out. The
+conundrum is, though, Why I should do the goat act, instead of lettin'
+you two mix it up? But that's what happened, and now I guess it's up to
+you to give an account."
+
+"H'm!" says he. "It isn't quite clear; but I infer that you have, in a
+way, made yourself responsible for me. May I ask whom I have to thank
+for----"
+
+"I'm Shorty McCabe," says I.
+
+"Oh!" says he. "It seems to me I've heard----"
+
+"Nothing like bein' well advertised," says I. "Now, how about you--and
+this?" With that I points to the specimen in the cast offs, that was
+givin' an imitation of a flytrap. It was a little crisp, I admit; but I'm
+gettin' anxious to know where I stand.
+
+The minister lifts his eyebrows some, but proceeds to hand out the
+information. "My name is Hooker," says he,--"Samuel Hooker."
+
+"Preacher?" says I.
+
+"Ye-es, a poor one," says he. "Where? Well, in the neighborhood of Mossy
+Dell, Pennsylvania."
+
+"Out in the celluloid collar belt, eh?" says I. "This ain't a deacon, is
+it?" and I jerks my thumb at the fish eyed one.
+
+"This unfortunate fellow," says he, droppin' a hand on the object's
+shoulder, "is one of our industrial products. His name is Kronacher,
+commonly called Dummy."
+
+"I can guess why," says I. "But now let's get down to how you two happen
+to be loose on the seventh floor of the Perzazzer and so far from Mossy
+Dell."
+
+The Reverend Sam says there ain't any great mystery about that. He come
+on here special to have a talk with a party by the name of Rankin, that
+he understood was stoppin' here.
+
+"You don't mean Bobby Brut, do you?" says I.
+
+"Robert K. Rankin is the young man's name, I believe," says he,--"son of
+the late Loring Rankin, president of the Consolidated----"
+
+"That's Bobby Brut," says I. "Don't catch onto the Brut, eh? You would if
+you read the champagne labels. Friend of yours, is he?"
+
+But right there the Rev. Mr. Hooker turns balky. He hints that his
+business with Bobby is private and personal, and he ain't anxious to lay
+it before a third party. He'd told 'em the same at the desk, when someone
+from Bobbie's rooms had 'phoned for details about the card, and then he'd
+got the turn down. But he wa'n't the kind that stayed down. He's goin' to
+see Mr. Rankin or bu'st. Not wantin' to ask for the elevator, he blazes
+ahead up the stairs; and Danny, it seems, hadn't got on his track until
+he was well started.
+
+"All I ask," says he, "is five minutes of Mr. Rankin's time. That is not
+an unreasonable request, I hope?"
+
+"Excuse me," says I; "but you're missin' the point by a mile. It ain't
+how long you want to stay, but what you're here for. You got to remember
+that things is run different on Fifth-ave. from what they are on
+Penrose-st., Mossy Dell. You might be a book agent, or a bomb thrower,
+for all the folks at the desk know. So the only way to get next to anyone
+here is to show your hand and take the decision. Now if you want to try
+runnin' the outside guard again, I'll call Danny back. But you'll make a
+mess of it."
+
+He thinks that over for a minute, lookin' me square in the eye all the
+time, and all of a sudden he puts out his hand. "You're right," says he.
+"I was hot headed, and let my zeal get the better of my commonsense.
+Thank you, Mr. McCabe."
+
+"That's all right," says I. "You go down to the office and put your case
+to 'em straight."
+
+"No," says he, shruggin' his shoulders, "that wouldn't do at all. I
+suppose I've come on a fool's errand. Kronacher, we'll go back."
+
+"That's too bad," says I, "if you had business with Bobby that was on the
+level."
+
+"Since you've been so kind," says he, "perhaps you would give me your
+opinion--if I am not detaining you?"
+
+"Spiel away!" says I. "I'll own up you've got me some interested."
+
+Well, say, when he'd described his visit as a dippy excursion, he wa'n't
+far off. Seems that this Rev. Sam Hooker ain't a reg'lar preacher, with a
+stained glass window church, a steam heated parsonage, and a settled job.
+He's sort of a Gospel promoter, that goes around plantin' churches here
+and there,--home missionary, he calls it, though I always thought a home
+missionary was one that was home from China on a half-pay visit.
+
+Mainly he says he drifts around through the coke oven and glass works
+district, where all the Polackers and other dagoes work. He don't let it
+go with preachin' to 'em, though. He pokes around among their shacks,
+seein' how they live, sendin' doctors for sick babies, givin' the women
+folks hints on the use of fresh air and hard soap, an' advisin' 'em to
+keep their kids in school. He's one of them strenuous chaps, too, that
+believes in stirrin' up a fuss whenever he runs across anything he thinks
+is wrong. One of the fights he's been making is something about the boys
+in the glass works.
+
+"Perhaps you have heard of our efforts to have a child labor bill passed
+in our State?" says he.
+
+"No," says I; "but I'm against it. There's enough kids has to answer the
+mill whistle, without passin' laws to make 'em."
+
+Then he explains how the bill is to keep 'em from goin' at it too young,
+or workin' too many hours on a stretch. Course, I'm with him on that, and
+says so.
+
+"Ah!" says he. "Then you may be interested to learn that young Mr. Rankin
+is the most extensive employer of child labor in our State. That is what
+I want to talk to him about."
+
+"Ever see Bobby?" says I.
+
+He says he hasn't.
+
+"Know anything of his habits, and so on?" I asks.
+
+"Not a thing," says the Rev. Sam.
+
+"Then you take it from me," says I, "that you ain't missed much."
+
+See? I couldn't go all over that record of Bobby Brut's, specially to a
+preacher. Not that Bobby was the worst that ever cruised around the Milky
+Way in a sea goin' cab with his feet over the dasher; but he was
+something of a torrid proposition while he lasted. You remember some of
+his stunts, maybe? I hadn't kept strict tabs on him; but I'd heard that
+after they chucked him out of the sanatorium his mother planted him here,
+with a man nurse and a private doctor, and slid off to Europe to stay
+with her son-in-law Count until folks forgot about Bobby.
+
+And this was the youth the Rev. Mr. Hooker had come to have a heart to
+heart talk with!
+
+"Ain't you takin' a lot of trouble, just for a few Polackers?" says I.
+
+"They are my brothers," says he, quiet like.
+
+"What!" says I. "You don't look it."
+
+His mouth corners flickers a little at that, and there comes a glimmer in
+them solemn gray eyes of his; but he goes on to say that it's part of his
+belief that every man is his brother.
+
+"Gee!" says I. "You've adopted a big fam'ly."
+
+But say, he's so dead in earnest about it, and he talks so sensible about
+other things, besides appearin' so white clear through, that I can't help
+likin' the cuss.
+
+"Look here!" says I. "This is way out of my line, and it strikes me as a
+batty proposition anyway; but if you're still anxious to have a chin with
+Bobby, maybe I can fix it."
+
+"Thank you, thank you!" says he, givin' me the grateful grip.
+
+It's a good deal easier than I'd thought. All I does is get one of
+Bobby's retinue on the house 'phone, tell who I am, and say I was
+thinkin' of droppin' up with a couple of friends for a short call, if
+Bobby's agreeable. Seems he was, for inside of two minutes we're on our
+way up in the elevator.
+
+Got any idea of the simple way a half baked young plute can live in a
+place like the Perzazzer? He has one floor of a whole wing cut off for
+his special use,--about twenty rooms, I should judge,--and there was
+hired hands standin' around in every corner. We're piloted in over the
+Persian rugs, with the preacher blinkin' his eyes to keep from seein'
+some of the statuary and oil paintin's.
+
+At last we comes to a big room with an eastern exposure, furnished like a
+show window. Sittin' at a big mahogany table in the middle is a narrow
+browed, pop eyed, bat eared young chap in a padded silk dressin' gown,
+and I remembers him for the Bobby Brut I used to see floatin' around with
+the Trixy-Madges at the lobster palaces. He has a couple of decks of
+cards laid out in front of him, and I guesses he's havin' a go at
+Canfield solitaire. Behind his chair stands a sour faced lackey who holds
+up his hand for us to wait.
+
+Bobby don't look up at all. He's shiftin' the cards around, tryin' to
+make 'em come out right, doin' it quick and nervous. All of a sudden the
+lackey claps his hand down on a pile and says, "Beg pardon, sir, but you
+can't do that."
+
+"Blast you!" snarls Bobby. "And I was just getting it! Why didn't you
+look the other way? Bah!" and he sends the whole lot flyin' on the floor.
+Do you catch on? He has the lackey there to see that he don't cheat
+himself.
+
+But while the help was pickin' up the cards Bobby gets a glimpse of our
+trio, ranged up against the door draperies.
+
+"Hello, Shorty McCabe!" he sings out. "It's bully of you to drop in.
+Nobody comes to see me any more--hardly a soul. Say, do you think there's
+anything the matter with my head?"
+
+"Can't say your nut shows any cracks from here," says I. "Who's been
+tellin' you it did?"
+
+"Why, all those blasted doctors," says he. "They won't even let me go out
+alone. But say," here he beckons me up and whispers mysterious, "I'll fix
+'em yet! You just wait till I get my animals trained. You wait!" Then he
+claps his hands and hollers, "Atkins! Set 'em going!"
+
+Atkins, he stops scrabblin' after the cards and starts around the room.
+And say, would you believe it, on all the tables and mantelpieces was a
+lot of those toy animals, such as they sell durin' the holidays. There
+was lions and tigers and elephants, little and big, and every last one of
+'em has its head balanced so it'll move up and down when you touch it.
+Atkins' job was to go from one to the other and set 'em bobbin'. Them on
+the mantels wa'n't more'n a few inches long; but on the floor, hid behind
+chairs, was some that was life size. One was a tiger, made out of a real
+skin, and when his head goes his jaws open and shut, and his tail lashes
+from side to side, as natural as life. Say, it was weird to watch that
+collection, all noddin' away together--almost gave you the willies!
+
+"Are they all going?" says Bobby.
+
+"Yes, sir," says Atkins, standin' attention.
+
+"What do you think, eh?" says Bobbie, half shuttin' his pop eyes and
+starin' at me, real foxy.
+
+"Great scheme!" says I. "Didn't know you had a private zoo up here. But
+say, I brought along someone that wants to have a little chin with you."
+
+With that I hauls the Rev. Sam to the front and gives him the nudge to
+fire away. And say, he's all primed! He begins by givin' Bobbie a word
+picture of the Rankin glass works at night, when the helpers are carryin'
+the trays from the hot room, where the blowers work three-hour shifts,
+with the mercury at one hundred and twenty, to the coolin' room, where
+it's like a cellar. He tells him how many helpers there are, how many
+hours they work a day, and what they get for it. It didn't make me yearn
+for a job.
+
+"And here," says the Rev. Mr. Hooker, pullin' the Dummy up by the sleeve,
+"is what happens. This boy went to work in your glass factory when he was
+thirteen. He was red cheeked, clear eyed, then, and he had a normal
+brain. He held his job six years. Then he was discharged. Why? Because he
+wasn't of any more use. He was all in, the juice sapped out of him, as
+dry as a last year's cornhusk. Look at him! Any doubt about his being
+used up? And what happened to him is happening to thousands of other
+boys. So I have come here to ask you, Mr. Rankin, if you are proud of
+turning out such products? Aren't you ready to stop hiring
+thirteen-year-old boys for your works?"
+
+Say, it was straight from the shoulder, that talk,--no flourishes, no
+fine words! And what do you guess Bobby Brut has to say? Not a blamed
+thing! I doubt if he heard more'n half of it, anyway; for he's got his
+eyes set on that pasty face of Dummy Kronacher, and is followin' his
+motions.
+
+The Dummy ain't payin' any attention to the speech, either. He's got
+sight of all them animals with their heads bobbin', and a silly grin
+spreads over his face. First he sidles over to the mantel and touches up
+one that was about stopped. Then he sees another, and starts that off
+again, and by the time Hooker is through the Dummy is as busy and
+contented as you please, keepin' them tigers and things movin'.
+
+"Well?" says the Rev. Sam.
+
+"Eh?" says Bobby, tearin' his eyes off the Dummy. "Were you saying
+something about the glass works? Beastly bore! I never go near them. But
+say! I want that chap over there. I want to hire him. What's his name?"
+
+"Dummy Kronacher," says the Rev. Sam, comin' out strong on the first
+word.
+
+"Good!" says Bobbie. "Hey, Dummy? What will you take to stay here with me
+and do that right along?"
+
+Dummy has just discovered a stuffed alligator that can snap its jaws and
+wiggle its tail. He only looks up and grins.
+
+"I'll make it a hundred a month," says Bobbie. "Well, that's settled.
+Atkins, you're fired! And say, McCabe, I must show this new man how I
+want this business done. You and your friend run in some other time, will
+you?"
+
+"But," says Hooker, "can't you do something about those helpers? Won't
+you promise to----"
+
+"No!" snaps Bobby. "I've no time to bother with such things. Atkins, show
+'em out!"
+
+Well, we went. We goes so sudden the Rev. Sam forgets about leavin' the
+Dummy until we're outside, and then he's for goin' back after him.
+
+"What for?" says I. "That pair'll get along fine; they're two of a
+kind."
+
+"I guess you're right," says he. "And it's something to have brought
+those two together. Perhaps someone will see the significance of it, some
+day."
+
+Now what was he drivin' at then? You can search me. All I've been able to
+make out of it is that what ails the poor is poverty, and the trouble
+with the plutes is that they've got too much. Eh? Barney Shaw said
+something like that too? Well, don't let on I agree with him. He might
+get chesty.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+MARMADUKE SLIPS ONE OVER
+
+
+And you'd almost think I could accumulate enough freaks, all by myself,
+without havin' my friends pass theirs along, wouldn't you? Yet lemme tell
+you what Pinckney rung up on me.
+
+He comes into the Studio one day towin' a party who wears brown spats and
+a brown ribbon to his shell rimmed eyeglasses, and leaves him planted in
+a chair over by the window, where he goes to rubbin' his chin with a
+silver-handled stick while we dive into the gym. for one of our little
+half-hour sessions. Leaves him there without sayin' a word, mind you,
+like you'd stand an umbrella in the corner!
+
+"Who's the silent gazooks you run on the siding out front?" says I.
+
+"Why," says Pinckney, "that's only Marmaduke."
+
+"Only!" says I. "I should say Marmaduke was quite some of a name.
+Anything behind it? He ain't a blank, is he?"
+
+"Who, Marmaduke?" says he. "Far from it! In fact, he has a most
+individual personality."
+
+"That sounds good," says I; "but does it mean anything? Who is he,
+anyway?"
+
+"Ask him, Shorty, ask him," says Pinckney, and as he turns to put his
+coat on the hanger I gets a glimpse of that merry eye-twinkle of his.
+
+"Go on--I'm easy," says I. "I'd look nice, wouldn't I, holdin' a perfect
+stranger up for his pedigree?"
+
+"But I assure you he'd be pleased to give it," says Pinckney, "and, more
+than that, I want to be there to hear it myself."
+
+"Well, you're apt to strain your ears some listenin'," says I. "This
+ain't my day for askin' fool questions."
+
+You never can tell, though. We hadn't much more'n got through our mitt
+exercise, and Pinckney was only half into his afternoon tea uniform, when
+there's a 'phone call for him. And the next thing I know he's hustled
+into his frock coat and rushed out.
+
+Must have been five minutes later when I fin'lly strolls into the front
+office, to find that mysterious Marmaduke is still holdin' down the chair
+and gazin' placid out onto 42d-st. It looks like he'd been forgotten and
+hadn't noticed the fact.
+
+One of these long, loose jointed, languid actin' gents, Marmaduke is; the
+kind that can drape themselves careless and comf'table over almost any
+kind of furniture. He's a little pop eyed, his hair is sort of a faded
+tan color, and he's whopper jawed on the left side; but beyond that he
+didn't have any striking points of facial beauty. It's what you might
+call an interestin' mug, though, and it's so full of repose that it seems
+almost a shame to disturb him.
+
+Someone had to notify him, though, that he'd overslept. I tried clearin'
+my throat and shufflin' my feet to bring him to; but that gets no action
+at all. So there was nothing for it but to go over and tap him on the
+shoulder.
+
+"Excuse me," says I, "but your friend has gone."
+
+"Ah, quite so," says he, still starin' out of the window and rubbin' his
+chin. "'Tis a way friends have. They come, and they go. Quite so."
+
+"Nobody's debatin' that point," says I; "but just now I wa'n't speakin'
+of friends in gen'ral. I was referrin' to Pinckney. He didn't leave any
+word; but I suspicion he was called up by----"
+
+"Thanks," breaks in Marmaduke. "I know. Mrs. Purdy-Pell consults him
+about dinner favors--tremendous trifles, to be coped with only by a
+trained intelligence. We meet at the club later."
+
+"Oh, that's it, is it?" says I. "In that case, make yourself to home.
+Have an evening paper?"
+
+"Please take it away," says he. "I might be tempted to read about the
+beastly stock market."
+
+"Been taking a little flyer, eh?" says I.
+
+"What, I?" says he. "Why, I haven't enough cash to buy a decent dinner.
+But everybody you meet follows the market, you know. It's a contagious
+disease."
+
+"So?" says I. "Now I've been exposed a lot and haven't caught it very
+hard."
+
+"Gifted of the gods!" says he.
+
+"Eh?" says I.
+
+"I'm Marmaduke, you know," says he.
+
+"I've heard that much," says I.
+
+"To him that hath ears--mufflers," says he.
+
+"Mufflers?" says I. "I guess I must be missin' some of my cues, Mister."
+
+"Never care," says he. "Why cry over spilt milk when one can keep a
+cat?"
+
+"Look here!" says I. "Are you stringin' me, or am I stringin' you?"
+
+"Of what use to fret the oracle?" says he. "They say silence is
+golden--well, I've spent mine."
+
+And, say, he had me doin' the spiral dip at that. I don't mind indulgin'
+in a little foolish conversation now and then; but I hate to have it so
+one sided. And, honest, so far as I figured, he might have been readin'
+the label off a tea chest. So with that I counters with one of my rough
+and ready comebacks.
+
+"Marmaduke--did you say it was?" says I. "If you did, where's the can?"
+
+"By Jove! That's rather good, though!" says he, rappin' the floor with
+his stick. "A little crude; but the element is there. Brava!
+Bravissimo!"
+
+"Stirred up the pigeons, anyway," says I.
+
+"Pigeons?" says he, lookin' puzzled.
+
+"Well, well!" says I. "And he wants a diagram for that mossy one! Loft,
+you know," and I taps my forehead.
+
+"Almost worthy of my steel!" says he, jumpin' up and shovin' out his
+hand. "Well met, Brother!"
+
+"I don't know which of us has a call to get chesty over it; but here's
+how," says I, takin' the friendly palm he holds out. "Seein' it's gone
+this far, though, maybe you'll tell me who in blazes you are!"
+
+And there I'd gone and done just what Pinckney had egged me to do.
+Course, the minute I asked the question I knew I'd given him a chance to
+slip one over on me; but I wa'n't lookin' for quite such a double jointed
+jolt.
+
+"Who am I?" says he. "Does it matter? Well, if it does, I am easily
+accounted for. Behold an anachronism!"
+
+"A which?" says I.
+
+"An anachronism," says he once more.
+
+"I pass," says I. "Is it part of Austria, or just a nickname for some
+alfalfa district out West?"
+
+"Brave ventures," says he; "but vain. One's place of birth doesn't count
+if one's twentieth century mind has a sixteenth century attitude. That's
+my trouble; or else I'm plain lazy, which I don't in the least admit. Do
+you follow me?"
+
+"I'm dizzy from it," says I.
+
+"The confession is aptly put," he goes on, "and the frankness of it does
+you credit. But I perceive. You would class me by peg and hole. Well, I'm
+no peg for any hole. I don't fit. On the floor of life's great workshop I
+just kick around. There you have me--ah--what?"
+
+"Maybe," says I; "but take my advice and don't ever spring that
+description on any desk Sergeant. It may be good; but it sounds like
+loose bearin's."
+
+"Ah!" says he. "The metaphor of to-morrow! Speak on, Sir Galahad!"
+
+"All right," says I. "I know it's runnin' a risk; but I'll chance one
+more: What part of the map do you hail from, Marmaduke?"
+
+"My proper home," says he, "is the Forest of Arden; but where that is I
+know not."
+
+"Why," says I, "then you belong in the new Harriman State Park. Anyway,
+there's a station by that name out on the Erie road."
+
+"Rails never ran to Arden Wood," says he, "nor ever will. Selah!"
+
+"Sounds like an old song," says I. "Are you taken this way often?"
+
+"I'm Marmaduke, you know," says he.
+
+"Sure, that's where we begun," says I; "but it's as far as we got. Is
+bein' Marmaduke your steady job?"
+
+"Some would call it so," says he. "I try to make of it an art."
+
+"You win," says I. "What can I set up?"
+
+"Thanks," says he. "Pinckney has thoughtlessly taken his cigarette case
+with him."
+
+So I sends Swifty out for a box of the most expensive dope sticks he can
+find. Maybe it wouldn't strike everybody that way; but to me it seemed
+like bein' entertained at cut rates. Next to havin' a happy dream about
+nothing I could remember afterwards, I guess this repartee bout with
+Marmaduke gets the ribbon. It was like blowin' soap bubbles to
+music,--sort of soothin' and cheerin' and no wear and tear on the brain.
+He stayed until closin' up time, and I was almost sorry to have him go.
+
+"Come around again," says I, "when the fog is thinner."
+
+"I'm certain to," says he. "I'm Marmaduke, you know."
+
+And the curious thing about that remark was that after you'd heard it
+four or five times it filled the bill. I didn't want to know any more,
+and it was only because Pinckney insisted on givin' me the details that
+the mystery was partly cleared up.
+
+"Well," says he, "what did you think of Marmaduke?"
+
+"Neither of us did any thinkin'," says I. "I just watched the
+butterflies."
+
+"You what?" says Pinckney.
+
+"Oh, call 'em bats, then!" says I. "He's got a dome full."
+
+"You mean you thought Marmaduke a bit off?" says he. "Nothing of the
+kind, Shorty. Why, he's a brilliant chap,--Oxford, Heidelberg, and all
+that sort of thing. He's written plays that no one will put on, books
+that no one will publish, and composed music that few can understand."
+
+"I can believe it," says I. "Also he can use language that he invents as
+he goes along. Entertainin' cuss, though."
+
+"A philosopher soufflé," says Pinckney.
+
+"Does it pay him well?" says I.
+
+"It's no joke," says Pinckney. "The little his father left him is gone,
+and what's coming from his Uncle Norton he doesn't get until the uncle
+dies. Meanwhile he's flat broke and too proud to beg or borrow."
+
+"Never tried trailin' a pay envelope, did he?" says I.
+
+"But he doesn't know how," says Pinckney. "His talents don't seem to be
+marketable. I am trying to think of something he could do. And did you
+know, Shorty, he's taken quite a fancy to you?"
+
+"They all do," says I; "but Marmaduke's easier to stand than most of 'em.
+Next time I'm threatened with the willies I'll send for him and offer to
+hire him by the hour."
+
+As a matter of fact, I didn't have to; for he got into the habit of
+blowin' into the studio every day or two, and swappin' a few of his airy
+fancies for my mental short-arm jabs. He said it did him good, and
+somehow or other it always chirked me up too.
+
+And the more I saw of Marmaduke, the less I thought about the bats. Get
+under the surface, and he wa'n't nutty at all. He just had a free flow of
+funny thoughts and odd ways of expressin' 'em. Most of us are so shy of
+lettin' go of any sentiments that can't be had on a rubber stamp that it
+takes a mighty small twist to put a person in the queer class.
+
+However, business is business, and I'd just as soon Marmaduke hadn't been
+on hand the other day when Pyramid Gordon comes in with one of his
+heavyweight broker friends. Course, I didn't know anything about the
+stranger; but I know Pyramid, and his funnybone was fossilized years ago.
+Marmaduke don't offer to make any break, though. He takes his fav'rite
+seat over by the window and goes to gazin' out and rubbin' his chin.
+
+Seems that Mr. Gordon and his friend was both tangled up in some bank
+chain snarl that was worryin' 'em a lot. Things wouldn't be comin' to a
+head for forty-eight hours or so, and meantime all they could do was sit
+tight and wait.
+
+Now, Pyramid's programme in a case of that kind is one I made out for him
+myself. It's simple. He comes to the studio for an hour of the roughest
+kind of work we can put through. After that he goes to his Turkish bath,
+and by the time his rubber is through with him he's ready for a private
+room and a ten hours' snooze. That's what keeps the gray out of his
+cheeks, and helps him look a Grand Jury summons in the face without goin'
+shaky.
+
+So it's natural he recommends the same course to this Mr. Gridley that
+he's brought along. Another thick-neck, Gridley is, with the same flat
+ears as Pyramid, only he's a little shorter and not quite so rugged
+around the chin.
+
+"Here we are, now," says Pyramid, "and here's Professor McCabe, Gridley.
+If he can't make you forget your troubles, you will be the first on
+record. Come on in and see."
+
+But Gridley he shakes his head. "Nothing so strenuous for me," says he.
+"My heart wouldn't stand it. I'll wait for you, though."
+
+"Better come in and watch, then," says I, with a side glance at
+Marmaduke.
+
+"No, thanks; I shall be quite as uncomfortable here," says Gridley, and
+camps his two hundred and ten pounds down in my desk chair.
+
+It was a queer pair to leave together,--this Gridley gent, who was
+jugglin' millions, and gettin' all kinds of misery out of it, and
+Marmaduke, calm and happy, with barely one quarter to rub against
+another. But of course there wa'n't much chance of their findin' anything
+in common to talk about.
+
+Anyway, I was too busy for the next hour to give 'em a thought, and by
+the time I'd got Pyramid breathin' like a leaky air valve and glowin'
+like a circus poster all over, I'd clean forgot both of 'em. So, when I
+fin'lly strolls out absent minded, it's something of a shock to find 'em
+gettin' acquainted, Marmaduke tiltin' back careless in his chair, and
+Gridley eyin' him curious.
+
+It appears that Pyramid's friend has got restless, discovered Marmaduke,
+and proceeded to try to tell him how near he comes to bein' a nervous
+wreck.
+
+"Ever get so you couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't think of but one
+thing over and over?" he was just sayin'.
+
+"To every coat of arms, the raveled sleeve of care," observes Marmaduke
+sort of casual.
+
+"Hey?" says Gridley, facin' round on him sharp.
+
+"As the poet puts it," Marmaduke rattles on,--
+
+    "You cannot gild the lily,
+      Nor can you wet the sea;
+    Pray tell me of my Bonnie,
+      But bring her not to me!"
+
+"Say, what the howling hyenas are you spouting about?" snorts Gridley,
+growin' purple back of the ears. "Who in thunder are you?"
+
+"Don't!" says I, holdin' up a warnin' hand. But I'm too late. Marmaduke
+has bobbed up smilin'.
+
+"A chip on the current," says he. "I'm Marmaduke, you know. No offense
+meant. And you were saying----"
+
+"Huh!" grunts Gridley, calmin' down. "Can't wet the sea, eh? Not so bad,
+young man. You can't keep it still, either. It's the only thing that puts
+me to sleep when I get this way."
+
+"Break, break, break--I know," says Marmaduke.
+
+"That's it," says Gridley, "hearing the surf roar. I'd open up my
+seashore cottage just for the sake of a good night's rest, if it wasn't
+for the blasted seagulls. You've heard 'em in winter, haven't you, how
+they squeak around?"
+
+"It's their wing hinges," says Marmaduke, solemn and serious.
+
+"Eh?" says Gridley, gawpin' at him.
+
+"Squeaky wing hinges," says Marmaduke. "You should oil them."
+
+And, say, for a minute there, after Gridley had got the drift of that
+tomfool remark, I didn't know whether he was goin' to throw Marmaduke
+through the window, or have another fit. All of a sudden, though, he
+begins poundin' his knee.
+
+"By George! but that's rich, young man!" says he. "Squeaky gulls' wing
+hinges! Haw-haw! Oil 'em! Haw-haw! How did you ever happen to think of
+it, eh?"
+
+"One sweetly foolish thought," says Marmaduke. "I'm blessed with little
+else."
+
+"Well, it's a blessing, all right," says Gridley. "I have 'em sometimes;
+but not so good as that. Say, I'll have to tell that to Gordon when he
+comes out. No, he wouldn't see anything in it. But see here, Mr.
+Marmaduke, what have you got on for the evening, eh?"
+
+"My tablets are cleaner than my cuffs," says he.
+
+"Good work!" says Gridley. "What about coming out and having dinner with
+me?"
+
+"With you or any man," says Marmaduke. "To dine's the thing."
+
+With that, off they goes, leavin' Pyramid in the gym. doorway strugglin'
+with his collar. Course, I does my best to explain what's happened.
+
+"But who was the fellow?" says Mr. Gordon.
+
+"Just Marmaduke," says I, "and if you don't want to get your thinker tied
+in a double bowknot you'll let it go at that. He's harmless. First off I
+thought his gears didn't mesh; but accordin' to Pinckney he's some kind
+of a philosopher."
+
+"Gridley has a streak of that nonsense in him too," says Pyramid. "I only
+hope he gets it all out of his system by to-morrow night."
+
+Well, from all I could hear he did; for there wa'n't any scarehead
+financial story in the papers, and I guess the bank snarl must have been
+straightened out all right. What puzzled me for a few days, though, was
+to think what had become of Marmaduke. He hadn't been around to the
+studio once; and Pinckney hadn't heard a word from him, either. Pinckney
+had it all framed up how Marmaduke was off starvin' somewhere.
+
+It was only yesterday, too, that I looks up from the desk to see
+Marmaduke, all got up in an entire new outfit, standin' there smilin' and
+chipper.
+
+"Well, well!" says I. "So you didn't hit the breadline, after all!"
+
+"Perchance I deserved it," says he; "but there came one from the forest
+who willed otherwise."
+
+"Ah, cut the josh for a minute," says I, "and tell us what you landed!"
+
+"Gladly," says he. "I have been made the salaried secretary of the S. O.
+S. G. W. H."
+
+"Is it a new benefit order," says I, "or what?"
+
+"The mystic letters," says he, "stand for the Society for Oiling Squeaky
+Gulls' Wing Hinges. Mr. Gridley is one member; I am the other."
+
+And, say, you may not believe it, but hanged if it wa'n't a fact! He has
+a desk in Gridley's private office, and once a day he shows up there and
+scribbles off a foolish thought on the boss's calendar pad. That's all,
+except that he draws down good money for it.
+
+"Also I have had word," says Marmaduke, "that my aged Uncle Norton is
+very low of a fever."
+
+"Gee!" says I. "Some folks are born lucky, though!"
+
+"And others," says he, "in the Forest of Arden."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+A LOOK IN ON THE GOAT GAME
+
+
+Pinckney was tellin' me, here awhile back at lunch one day, what terrors
+them twins of his was gettin' to be. He relates a tragic tale about how
+they'd just been requested to resign from another private school where
+they'd been goin' as day scholars.
+
+"That is the third this season," says he; "the third, mind you!"
+
+"Well, there's more still, ain't there?" says I.
+
+"Brilliant observation, Shorty," says he, "also logical and pertinent.
+Yes, there are several others still untried by the twins."
+
+"What you howlin' about, then?" says I.
+
+"Because," says he, toyin' with the silver frame that holds the bill of
+fare, "because it is not my intention to demoralize all the educational
+institutions of this city in alphabetical order."
+
+"G'wan!" says I. "The kids have got to be educated somewhere, haven't
+they?"
+
+"Which is the sad part of it," says Pinckney, inspectin' the dish of
+scrambled eggs and asparagus tips and wavin' the waiter to do the serving
+himself. "It means," he goes on, "having a governess around the house,
+and you know what nuisances they can be."
+
+"Do I?" says I. "The nearest I ever got to havin' a governess was when
+Mrs. O'Grady from next door used to come in to use our wash-tubs and I
+was left with her for the day. Nobody ever called her a nuisance and got
+away with it."
+
+"What an idyllic youth to look back upon!" says he. "I can remember half
+a dozen, at least, who had a hand in directing the course of my budding
+intellect, and each one of them developed some peculiarity which
+complicated the domestic situation. I am wondering what this new
+governess of ours will contribute."
+
+"Got one on the job already, eh?" says I.
+
+"This is her third day," says he, "and if she manages to live through it
+with the twins, I shall have hope."
+
+"Ah, pickles!" says I. "Those kids are all right. They're full of life
+and ginger, that's all."
+
+"Especially ginger," says Pinckney.
+
+"What of it?" says I. "Or are you just blowin' about 'em? It's all right,
+they're a great pair, and any time you want to entertain me for half an
+hour, turn 'em loose in my comp'ny."
+
+"Done!" says Pinckney. "We'll take a cab right up."
+
+"Put it off three minutes, can't you?" says I, lookin' over the French
+pastry tray and spearin' a frosted creampuff that was decorated up with
+sugar flowers until it looked like a bride's bouquet.
+
+He insists on callin' my bluff, though; so up the avenue we goes, when I
+should have been hotfootin' it back to the studio. But I could see that
+Pinckney was some anxious about how the kids was gettin' on, Gertie being
+away for the day, and I thinks maybe I'll be useful in calmin' any riot
+he might find in progress.
+
+All was quiet and peaceful, though, as Pinckney opens the door with his
+latchkey. No howls from upstairs, no front windows broken, and nobody
+slidin' down the banisters. We was just waitin' for the automatic
+elevator to come down when we hears voices floatin' out from the lib'ry.
+Pinckney steps to the doorway where he can see through into the next
+room, and then beckons me up for a squint.
+
+It wa'n't the kids at all, but a couple of grownups that was both
+strangers to me. From the way the young woman is dressed I could guess
+she was the new governess. Anyway, she's makin' herself right to home, so
+far as entertainin' comp'ny goes; for she and the gent with her is more
+or less close together and mixed up. First off it looked like a side-hold
+lover's clinch, and then again it didn't.
+
+"Is it a huggin' match, or a rough-house tackle?" I whispered over
+Pinckney's shoulder.
+
+"I pass the declaration," says he. "Suppose we investigate."
+
+With that we strolls in, and we're within a dozen feet of the couple
+before they get wise to the fact that there's an int'rested audience. I
+must say, though, that they made a clean, quick breakaway. Then they
+stands, starin' at us.
+
+"Ah, Miss Marston!" says Pinckney. "Do I interrupt?"
+
+"Why--er--er--you see, sir," she begins, "I--that is--we----"
+
+And she breaks down with as bad a case of rattles as I ever see. She's a
+nice lookin', modest appearin' young woman, too, a little soft about the
+mouth, but more or less classy in her lines. Her hair is some mussed, and
+there's sort of a wild, desp'rate look in her eyes.
+
+"A near relative, I presume?" suggests Pinckney, noddin' at the gent,
+who's takin' it all cool enough.
+
+"Oh, yes, sir," gasps out the governess. "My husband, sir."
+
+And the gent, he bows as easy and natural as if he was bein' introduced
+at an afternoon tea party. "Glad to know you," says he, stickin' out his
+hand, which Pinckney, bein' absent-minded just then, fails to see.
+
+"Really!" says Pinckney, lookin' the governess up and down. "Then it's
+not Miss Marston, but Mrs.--er----"
+
+"Yes," says she, lettin' her chin drop, "Mrs. Marston."
+
+"Very unfortunate," says Pinckney, "very!"
+
+"Haw, haw, haw!" breaks out the strange gent, slappin' his knee. "I say
+now, but that's a good one, that is, even if it is at my expense!
+Unfortunate, eh? Perfectly true though, perfectly true!"
+
+Now it takes a lot to get Pinckney going; but for a minute all he does is
+turn and size up this husband party with the keen sense of humor. I had
+my mouth open and my eyes bugged too; for he don't look the part at all.
+Why, he's dressed neat and expensive, a little sporty maybe, for a real
+gent; but he carries it off well.
+
+"Glad to have your assurance that I was right," says Pinckney, still
+givin' him the frosty eye.
+
+"Oh, don't mention it," says Mr. Marston. "And I trust you will overlook
+my butting in here to see Kitty--er, Mrs. Marston. Little matter of
+sentiment and--well, business, you know. I don't think it will happen
+often."
+
+"I am quite sure it won't," says Pinckney. "And now, if the interview has
+been finished, I would suggest that----"
+
+"Oh, certainly, certainly!" says Marston, edging towards the door. "Allow
+me, gentlemen, to bid you good-day. And I say, Kit, don't forget that
+little matter. By-by."
+
+Honest, if I could make as slick a backout as that, without carryin' away
+anybody's footprint, I'd rate myself a headliner among the trouble
+dodgers. Pinckney, though, don't seem to appreciate such talents.
+
+"That settles governess No. 1," says he as we starts for the elevator
+again. "We are beginning the series well."
+
+That was before he saw how smooth she got along with Jack and Jill. After
+she'd given an exhibition of kid trainin' that was a wonder, he remarked
+that possibly he might as well let her stay the week out.
+
+"But of course," says he, "she will have to go. Hanged if I understand
+how Mrs. Purdy-Pell happened to send her here, either! Shorty, do you
+suppose Sadie could throw any light on this case?"
+
+"I'll call for a report," says I.
+
+Does Sadie know anything about the Marstons? Well, rather! Says she told
+me all about 'em at the time too; but if she did it must have got by.
+Anyway, this was just a plain, simple case of a worthless son marryin'
+the fam'ly governess and bein' thrown out for it by a stern parent, same
+as they always are in them English novels Sadie's forever readin'.
+
+The Marstons was Madison-ave. folks, which means that their back yard was
+bounded on the west by the smart set--and that's as far as there's any
+need of going. The girl comes from 'Frisco and is an earthquake orphan.
+Hence the governess stunt. As for young Marston, he'd been chucked out of
+college, tried out for a failure in the old man's brokerage office, and
+then left to drift around town on a skimpy allowance. So he was in fine
+shape to get married! The girl sticks to him, though, until there's
+trouble with the landlady, and then, when he only turns ugly and makes no
+move towards gettin' a job, she calls it off, gives him the slip, and
+begins rustlin' for herself.
+
+"Oh, well," says Pinckney, "I suppose she ought to have a chance. But if
+that husband of hers is going to----"
+
+"Next time you catch him at it," says I, "just 'phone down for me. It'll
+be a pleasure."
+
+I meant it too; for after hearing how she'd lost other places on account
+of his hangin' around I could have enjoyed mussin' him up some.
+
+With my feelin' that way, you can guess what a jar it is, one afternoon
+when I'm having a little front office chat with my old reg'lar, Pyramid
+Gordon, to see this same gent blow in through the door. Almost looked
+like he knew what he ought to get and had come after it.
+
+"Well?" says I as chilly as I knew how.
+
+"Quite so," says he, "quite so. I see you remember our recent meeting.
+Awkward situation for a moment, wasn't it, eh? Splendid chap, though,
+your friend----"
+
+"Say, choke off the hot air," says I, "and let's hear what gave you the
+courage to climb those stairs!"
+
+And what do you guess? He takes five minutes of steady chinnin' to get
+around to it; but he puts over such a velvety line of talk, and it's so
+int'restin' to watch him do it, that I let him spiel ahead until he gets
+to the enactin' clause in his own way. And it's nothing more or less than
+a brassy fingered touch for a twenty, all based on the fact that he met
+me at a house where his wife's drawin' wages.
+
+"Mr. Gordon," says I, turnin' to Pyramid, who's heard it all, "what do
+you think of that, anyway?"
+
+"Very neat, indeed," says Pyramid, chucklin'.
+
+"And then a few!" says I. "I can almost see myself givin' up that twenty
+right off the bat. Nothing but great presence of mind and wonderful
+self-control holds me back. But look here, Mr. What's-your-name----"
+
+"Marston," says he, flashin' an engraved visitin' card, "L. Egbert
+Marston."
+
+"L. Egbert, eh?" says I. "Does the L stand for Limed? And what do they
+call you for short--Eggie?"
+
+"Oh, suit yourself," says he, with a careless wave of the hand.
+
+"All right, Eggie," says I; "but before we get in any deeper I've got a
+conundrum or two to spring on you. We got kind of curious, Pinckney and
+me, about that visit of yours. He thinks we disturbed a fond embrace. It
+looked diff'rent to me. I thought I could see finger-marks on the young
+lady's throat. How about it?"
+
+Course he flushes up. Any man would under a jab like that, and I looked
+for him either to begin breakin' the peace or start lyin' out of it.
+There's considerable beef to Egbert, you know. He'd probably weigh in at
+a hundred and eighty, with all that flabby meat on him, and if it wa'n't
+for that sort of cheap look to his face you might take him for a real
+man. But he don't show any more fight than a cow. He don't even put in
+any indignant "Not guilty!" He just shrugs his shoulders and indulges in
+a sickly laugh.
+
+"It doesn't sound nice," says he; "but sometimes they do need a bit of
+training, these women."
+
+"For instance?" says I. "In the matter of handing over a little spendin'
+money, eh?"
+
+"You've struck it," says he, with another shrug.
+
+I glances at Pyramid; but there wa'n't any more expression to that draw
+poker face of his than as if it was a cement block.
+
+"Egbert," says I, frank and confidential, "you're a sweet scented pill,
+ain't you?"
+
+And does that draw any assault and battery motions? It don't. All the
+result is to narrow them shifty eyes of his and steady 'em down until
+he's lookin' me square in the face.
+
+"I was hard up, if you want to know," says he. "I didn't have a dollar."
+
+"And that," says I, "is what you give out as an excuse for----"
+
+"Yes," he breaks in. "And I'm no worse than lots of other men, either.
+With money, I'm a gentleman; without it--well, I get it any way I can.
+And I want to tell you, I've seen men with plenty of it get more in
+meaner ways. I don't know how to juggle stocks, or wreck banks, or use
+any of the respectable methods that----"
+
+"Nothing personal, I hope," puts in Mr. Gordon, with another chuckle.
+
+"Not so intended," says Marston.
+
+"Eh, thanks," says Pyramid.
+
+"We'll admit," says I, "that your partic'lar way of raisin' funds, Mr.
+Marston, ain't exactly novel; but didn't it ever occur to you that some
+folks get theirs by workin' for it?"
+
+"I know," says he, tryin' to seem good natured again; "but I'm not that
+kind. I'm an idler. As some poet has put it, 'Useless I linger, a
+cumberer here.'"
+
+"You're a cucumber, all right," says I; "but why not, just for a change,
+make a stab at gettin' a job?"
+
+"I've had several," says he, "and never could hold one more than a week.
+Too monotonous, for one thing; and then, in these offices, one is thrown
+among so many ill bred persons, you know."
+
+"Sure!" says I, feelin' my temper'ture risin'. "Parties that had rather
+work for a pay envelope than choke their wives. I've met 'em. I've heard
+of your kind too, Egbert; but you're the first specimen I ever got real
+close to. And you're a bird! Mr. Gordon, shall I chuck him through the
+window, or help him downstairs with my toe?"
+
+"I wouldn't do either," says Pyramid. "In fact, I think I can make use of
+this young man."
+
+"Then you're welcome to him," says I. "Blaze ahead."
+
+"Much obliged," says Pyramid. "Now, Mr. Marston, what is the most
+reasonable sum, per month, that would allow you to carry out your idea of
+being a gentleman?"
+
+Egbert thinks that over a minute and then puts it at three hundred.
+
+"And would it conflict with those ideas," Pyramid goes on, "if you were
+required, say twice a week, to spend an hour in a private office, signing
+your name?"
+
+Egbert thinks he could stand that.
+
+"Very well, then," says Pyramid, producin' his checkbook and gettin' busy
+with the fountain pen, "here is your first month's salary in advance.
+Whenever you find it convenient during the week, report at my offices.
+Ask for Mr. Bradley. Yes, Bradley. That's all," and Pyramid lights up one
+of his torches as satisfied as though he'd just bought in a Senator.
+
+As for Egbert, he stows the check away, taps me on the shoulder, and
+remarks real friendly, "Well, professor, no hard feelings, I hope?"
+
+"Say, Eggie," says I, "seems to me I expressed myself once on that point,
+and I ain't had any sudden change of heart. If I was you I'd beat while
+the beatin's good."
+
+Egbert laughs; but he takes the advice.
+
+"Huh!" says I to Pyramid. "I expect that's your notion of making a funny
+play, eh!"
+
+"I'm no humorist, Shorty," says he.
+
+"Then what's the idea?" says I. "What do you mean?"
+
+"I never mean anything but cold, straight business," says he. "That's the
+only game worth playing."
+
+"So?" says I. "Then here's where you got let in bad with your eyes open.
+You heard him tell how useless he was?"
+
+"I did," says Pyramid; "but I always do my own appraising when I hire
+men. I anticipate finding Mr. Marston somewhat useful."
+
+And say, that's all I can get out of Pyramid on the subject; for when it
+comes to business, he's about as chatty over his plans as a hard shell
+clam on the suffragette question. I've known him to make some freak
+plans; but this move of pickin' out a yellow one like Egbert and
+rewardin' him as if he was a Carnegie medal winner beat anything he'd
+ever sprung yet.
+
+It's no bluff, either. I hears of this Marston gent sportin' around at
+the clubs, and it wa'n't until I accident'lly run across an item on the
+Wall Street page that I gets any more details. He shows up, if you
+please, as secretary of the Consolidated Holding Company that there's
+been so much talk about. I asks Pinckney what kind of an outfit that was;
+but he don't know.
+
+"Huh!" says I. "All I'd feel safe in givin' Egbert to hold for me would
+be one end of the Brooklyn Bridge."
+
+"I don't care what he holds," says Pinckney, "if he will stay away from
+our little governess. She's a treasure."
+
+Seems Mrs. Marston had been doin' some great tricks with the twins, not
+only keepin' 'em from marrin' the furniture, but teachin' 'em all kinds
+of knowledge and improvin' their table manners, until it was almost safe
+to have 'em down to luncheon now and then.
+
+But her life was being made miser'ble by the prospect of havin' Egbert
+show up any day and create a row. She confided the whole tale to Sadie,
+how she was through with Marston for good, but didn't dare tell him so,
+and how she sent him most of her salary to keep him away.
+
+"The loafer!" says I. "And think of the chance I had at him there in the
+studio! Hanged if I don't get even with Pyramid for that, though!"
+
+But I didn't. Mr. Gordon's been too busy this season to show up for any
+trainin', and it was only here the other day that I runs across him in
+the street.
+
+"Well," says I, "how's that work scornin' pet of yours gettin' on these
+days?"
+
+"Marston?" says he. "Why, haven't you heard? Mr. Marston is away on a
+vacation."
+
+"Vacation!" says I. "He needs it, he does!"
+
+"The company thought so," says Pyramid. "They gave him six months' leave
+with pay. He's hunting reindeer or musk ox somewhere up in British
+Columbia."
+
+"Him a hunter?" says I. "G'wan!"
+
+Pyramid grins. "He did develop a liking for the wilderness rather
+suddenly," says he; "but that is where he is now. In fact, I shouldn't be
+surprised if he stayed up there for a year or more."
+
+"What's the joke?" says I, catchin' a flicker in them puffy eyes of
+Pyramid's.
+
+"Why, just this," says he. "Mr. Marston, you know, is secretary of the
+Consolidated Holding Company."
+
+"Yes, I read about that," says I. "What then?"
+
+"It pains me to state," says Mr. Gordon, "that in his capacity of
+secretary Mr. Marston seems to have sanctioned transactions which violate
+the Interstate Commerce act."
+
+"Ah-ha!" says I. "Turned crooked on you, did he?"
+
+"We are not sure as yet," says Pyramid. "The federal authorities are
+anxious to settle that point by examining certain files which appear to
+be missing. They even asked me about them. Perhaps you didn't notice,
+Shorty, that I was cross-examined for five hours, one day last week."
+
+"I don't read them muck rakin' articles," says I.
+
+"Quite right," says Pyramid. "Well, I couldn't explain; for, as their own
+enterprising detectives discovered, when Mr. Marston boarded the Montreal
+Express his baggage included a trunk and two large cases. Odd of him to
+take shipping files on a hunting trip, wasn't it?" and Pyramid tips me
+the slow wink.
+
+I'm more or less of a thickhead when it comes to flossy finance; but I've
+seen enough plain flimflam games to know a few things. And the wink
+clinched it. "Mr. Gordon," says I, "for a Mr. Smooth you've got a greased
+pig in the warthog class. But suppose Egbert gets sick of the woods and
+hikes himself back? What then?"
+
+"Jail," says Pyramid, shruggin' his sable collar up around his ears.
+"That would be rather deplorable too. Bright young man, Marston, in many
+ways, and peculiarly adapted for----"
+
+"Yes, I know the part," says I. "They gen'rally spells it g-o-a-t."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+MRS. TRUCKLES' BROAD JUMP
+
+
+And do you imagine Kitty Marston settles down to a life job after that?
+Not her. At the very next pay day she hands in her two weeks' notice, and
+when they pin her right down to facts she admits weepy that she means to
+start out lookin' for Egbert. Now wouldn't that crust you?
+
+Course, the sequel to that is another governess hunt which winds up with
+Madame Roulaire. And say, talk about your queer cases----But you might as
+well have the details.
+
+You see, until Aunt Martha arrived on the scene this Madame Roulaire
+business was only a fam'ly joke over to Pinckney's, with all of us in on
+it more or less. But Aunt Martha ain't been there more'n three or four
+days before she's dug up mystery and scandal and tragedy enough for
+another one of them French dope dramas.
+
+"In my opinion," says she, "that woman is hiding some dreadful secret!"
+
+But Mrs. Pinckney only smiles in that calm, placid way of hers. You know
+how easy she took things when she was Miss Geraldine and Pinckney found
+her on the steamer in charge of the twins that had been willed to him?
+Well, she ain't changed a bit; and, with Pinckney such a brilliant member
+of the Don't Worry Fraternity, whatever frettin' goes on in that house
+has to be done by volunteers.
+
+Aunt Martha acts like she was wise to this; for she starts right in to
+make up for lost opportunities, and when she spots this freaky lookin'
+governess she immediately begins scoutin' for trouble. Suspicions? She
+delivers a fresh lot after every meal!
+
+"Humph!" says she. "Madame Roulaire, indeed! Well, I must say, she looks
+as little like a Frenchwoman as any person I ever saw! How long have you
+had her, Geraldine? What, only two months? Did she bring written
+references, and did you investigate them carefully?"
+
+She wouldn't let up, either, until she'd been assured that Madame
+Roulaire had come from service in an English fam'ly, and that they'd
+written on crested notepaper indorsin' her in every point, giving her
+whole hist'ry from childhood up.
+
+"But she hasn't the slightest French accent," insists Aunt Martha.
+
+"I know," says Mrs. Pinckney. "She lived in England from the time she was
+sixteen, and of course twenty years away from one's----"
+
+"Does she claim to be only thirty-six?" exclaims Aunt Martha. "Why, she's
+fifty if she's a day! Besides, I don't like that snaky way she has of
+watching everyone."
+
+There was no denyin', either, that this Roulaire party did have a pair of
+shifty eyes in her head. I'd noticed that much myself in the few times
+I'd seen her. They wa'n't any particular color you could name,--sort of a
+greeny gray-blue,--but they sure was bright and restless. You'd never
+hear a sound out of her, for she didn't let go of any remarks that wa'n't
+dragged from her; but somehow you felt, from the minute you got into the
+room until she'd made a gumshoe exit by the nearest door, that them
+sleuthy lamps never quite lost sight of you.
+
+That and her smile was the main points about her. I've seen a lot of
+diff'rent kinds of smiles, meanin' and unmeanin'; but this chronic
+half-smirk of Madame Roulaire's was about the most unconvincin'
+performance I've ever watched. Why, even a blind man could tell she
+didn't really mean it! Outside of that, she was just a plain, pie faced
+sort of female with shrinkin', apologizin' ways and a set of store teeth
+that didn't fit any too well; but she wa'n't one that you'd suspect of
+anything more tragic than eatin' maraschino cherries on the sly, or
+swappin' household gossip with the cook.
+
+That wa'n't the way Martha had her sized up, though, and of course there
+was no keepin' her inquisitive nose out of the case. First thing anyone
+knew, she'd backed Madame Roulaire into a corner, put her through the
+third degree, and come trottin' back in triumph to Mrs. Pinckney.
+
+"Didn't I tell you?" says she. "French! Bosh! Perhaps you haven't asked
+her about Auberge-sur-Mer, where she says she was born?"
+
+Greraldine admits that she ain't done much pumpin'.
+
+"Well, I have," says Aunt Martha, "and she couldn't tell me a thing about
+the place that was so. I spent ten days there only two years ago, and
+remember it perfectly. She isn't any more French than I am."
+
+"Oh, what of it?" says Mrs. Pinckney. "She gets along splendidly with the
+twins. They think the world of her."
+
+"But she's thoroughly deceitful," Aunt Martha comes back. "She
+misrepresents her age, lies about her birthplace, and--and she wears a
+transformation wig."
+
+"Yes, I had noticed the brown wig," admits Mrs. Pinckney; "but they're
+quite common."
+
+"So are women poisoners," snaps Martha. "Think of what happened to the
+Briggses, after they took in that strange maid! Then there was the Madame
+Catossi case, over in Florence last year. They were warned about her, you
+remember."
+
+And maybe you know how a good lively suspecter can get results when she
+keeps followin' it up. They got to watchin' the governess close when she
+was around, and noticin' all the little slips in her talk and the
+crab-like motions she made in dodgin' strangers. That appears to make her
+worse than ever, too. She'd get fussed every time anyone looked her way,
+and just some little question about the children would make her jump and
+color up like she'd been accused of burnin' a barn. Even Sadie, who'd
+been standin' up for her right along, begins to weaken.
+
+"After all," says she, "I'm not sure there isn't something queer about
+that woman."
+
+"Ah, all governesses are queer, ain't they?" says I; "but that ain't any
+sign they've done time or are in the habit of dosin' the coffeepot with
+arsenic. It's Aunt Martha has stirred all this mess up, and she'd make
+the angel Gabriel prove who he was by blowin' bugle calls."
+
+It was only next day, though, that we gets a report of what happens when
+Pinckney runs across this Sir Carpenter-Podmore at the club and lugs him
+out to dinner. He's an English gent Pinckney had known abroad. Comin' in
+unexpected that way, him and Madame Roulaire had met face to face in the
+hall, while the introductions was bein' passed out--and what does she do
+but turn putty colored and shake like she was havin' a fit!
+
+"Ah, Truckles?" says Podmore, sort of cordial.
+
+"No, no!" she gasps. "Roulaire! I am Madame Roulaire!"
+
+"Beg pardon, I'm sure," says Sir Carpenter, liftin' his eyebrows and
+passin' on.
+
+That was all there was to it; but everyone in the house heard about it.
+Course Aunt Martha jumps right in with the question marks; but all she
+gets out of Podmore is that he presumes he was mistaken.
+
+"Well, maybe he was," says I. "Why not?"
+
+"Then you haven't heard," says Sadie, "that Sir Carpenter was for a long
+time a Judge on the criminal bench."
+
+"Z-z-z-zing!" says I. "Looks kind of squally for the governess, don't
+it?"
+
+If it hadn't been for Pinckney, too, Aunt Martha'd had her thrown out
+that night; but he wouldn't have it that way.
+
+"I've never been murdered in my bed, or been fed on ground glass," says
+he, "and--who knows?--I might like the sensation."
+
+Say, there's more sides to that Pinckney than there are to a cutglass
+paperweight. You might think, with him such a Reggie chap, that havin' a
+suspicious character like that around would get on his nerves; but, when
+it comes to applyin' the real color test, there ain't any more yellow in
+him than in a ball of bluin', and he can be as curious about certain
+things as a kid investigatin' the animal cages.
+
+Rather than tie the can to Madame Roulaire without gettin' a straight
+line on her, he was willin' to run chances. And it don't make any
+difference to him how much Aunt Martha croaks about this and that, and
+suggests how dreadful it is to think of those dear, innocent little
+children exposed to such evil influences. That last item appeals strong
+to Mrs. Pinckney and Sadie, though.
+
+"Of course," says Geraldine, "the twins don't suspect a thing as yet, and
+whatever we discover must be kept from them."
+
+"Certainly," says Sadie, "the poor little dears mustn't know."
+
+So part of the programme was to keep them out of her way as much as
+possible without actually callin' her to the bench, and that's what
+fetched me out there early the other afternoon. It was my turn at
+protectin' innocent childhood. I must say, though, it's hard realizin'
+they need anything of that sort when you're within reach of that Jack and
+Jill combination. Most people seem to feel the other way; but, while
+their society is apt to be more or less strenuous, I can gen'rally stand
+an hour or so of it without collectin' any broken bones.
+
+As usual, they receives me with an ear splittin' whoop, and while Jill
+gives me the low tackle around the knees Jack proceeds to climb up my
+back and twine his arms affectionate around my neck.
+
+"Hey, Uncle Shorty," they yells in chorus, "come play Wild West with
+us!"
+
+"G'wan, you young terrors!" says I, luggin' 'em out on the lawn and
+dumpin' 'em on the grass. "Think I'd risk my neck at any such game as
+that? Hi! leggo that necktie or I'll put on the spanks! Say, ain't you
+got any respect for company clothes? Now straighten up quiet and tell me
+about the latest deviltry you've been up to."
+
+"Pooh!" says Jill. "We're not afraid of you."
+
+"And we know why you're here to-day, too," says Jack.
+
+"Do you?" says I. "Well, let's have it."
+
+"You're on guard," says Jill, "keeping us away from old Clicky."
+
+"Old Clicky?" says I.
+
+"Uh-huh," says Jack. "The goosy governess, you know."
+
+"Eh?" says I, openin' my eyes.
+
+"We call her that," says Jill, "because her teeth click so when she gets
+excited. At night she keeps 'em in a glass of water. Do you suppose they
+click then?"
+
+"Her hair comes off too," says Jack, "and it's all gray underneath. We
+fished it off once, and she was awful mad."
+
+"You just ought to hear her when she gets mad," says Jill. "She drops her
+H's."
+
+"She don't do it before folks, though," says Jack, "'cause she makes
+believe she's French. She's awful good to us, though, and we love her
+just heaps."
+
+"You've got queer ways of showin' it," says I.
+
+"What makes Aunt Martha so scared of her?" says Jill. "Do you think it's
+so she would really and truly murder us all and run off with the jewelry,
+or that she'd let in burglars after dark? She meets someone every
+Thursday night by the side gate, you know."
+
+"A tall woman with veils over her face," adds Jack. "We hid in the bushes
+and watched 'em."
+
+"Say, for the love of Mike," says I, "is there anything about your
+governess you kids haven't heard or seen? What more do you know?"
+
+"Lots," says Jill. "She's scared of Marie, the new maid. Marie makes her
+help with the dishes, and make up her own bed, and wait on herself all
+the time."
+
+"And she has to study beforehand all the lessons she makes us learn,"
+says Jack. "She studies like fun every night in her room, and when we ask
+questions from the back of the book she don't know the answers."
+
+"She's been too scared to study or anything, ever since Monday," says
+Jill. "Do you think they'll have a policeman take her away before she
+poisons us all? We heard Aunt Martha say they ought to."
+
+Say, they had the whole story, and more too. If there was anything about
+Madame Roulaire's actions, her past hist'ry, or what people thought of
+her that had got by these two, I'd like to know what it was.
+
+"Gee!" says I. "Talk about protectin' you! What you need most is a pair
+of gags and some blinders. Now trot along off and do your worst, while I
+look up Pinckney and give him some advice."
+
+I was strollin' through the house lookin' for him, and I'd got as far as
+the lib'ry, when who should I see but Madame Roulaire comin' through the
+opposite door. Someway, I didn't feel like meetin' them sleuthy eyes just
+then, or seein' that smirky smile; so I dodges back and pikes down the
+hall. She must have had the same thought; for we almost collides head on
+halfway down, and the next thing I know she's dropped onto a davenport,
+sobbin' and shakin' all over.
+
+"Excuse me for mentionin' it," says I; "but there ain't any call for
+hysterics."
+
+"Oh, I know who you are now," says she. "You--you're a private
+detective!"
+
+"Eh?" says I. "How'd you get onto my disguise?"
+
+"I knew it from the first," says she. "And then, when I saw you with the
+children, asking them about me----Oh, you won't arrest me and take me
+away from the darlings, will you? Please don't take me to jail! I'll tell
+you everything, truly I will, sir!"
+
+"That might help some," says I; "but, if you're goin' to 'fess up,
+suppose you begin at Chapter I. Was it the fam'ly jewels you was after?"
+
+"No, no!" says she. "I never took a penny's worth in my life. Truckles
+could tell you that if he could only be here."
+
+"Truckles, eh!" says I. "Now just who was----"
+
+"My 'usband, sir," says she. "And I'm Mrs. Truckles."
+
+"Oh-ho!" says I. "Then this Roulaire name you've been flaggin' under was
+sort of a _nom de plume_?"
+
+"It was for Katy I did it!" she sobs.
+
+"Oh, yes," says I. "Well, what about Katy?"
+
+And, say, that was the way it come out; first, a bit here and then a bit
+there, with me puttin' the ends together and patchin' this soggy everyday
+yarn out of what we'd all thought was such a deep, dark mystery.
+
+She was English, Mrs. Truckles was, and so was the late Truckles. They'd
+worked together, him bein' a first class butler whose only fault was he
+couldn't keep his fingers off the decanters. It was after he'd struck the
+bottom of the toboggan slide and that thirst of his had finished him for
+good and all that Mrs. Truckles collects her little Katy from where
+they'd boarded her out and comes across to try her luck on this side.
+
+She'd worked up as far as housekeeper, and had made enough to educate
+Katy real well and marry her off to a bright young gent by the name of
+McGowan that owned a half interest in a corner saloon up in the Bronx and
+stood well with the district leader.
+
+She was happy and contented in them days, Mrs. Truckles was, with McGowan
+doin' a rushin' business, gettin' his name on the Tammany ticket, and
+Katy patronizing a swell dressmaker and havin' a maid of her own. Then,
+all of a sudden, Mrs. Truckles tumbles to the fact that Katy is gettin'
+ashamed of havin' a mother that's out to service and eatin' with the
+chauffeur and the cook. Not that she wants her livin' with them,--McGowan
+wouldn't stand for that,--but Katy did think Mother might do something
+for a living that wouldn't blur up the fam'ly escutcheon quite so much.
+
+It was just when Mrs. Truckles was feelin' this most keen that the French
+governess where she was got married and went West to live, leavin' behind
+her, besides a collection of old hats, worn out shoes, and faded picture
+postals, this swell reference from Lady Jigwater. And havin' put in a
+year or so in France with dif'rent families that had taken her across,
+and havin' had to pick up more or less of the language, Mrs. Truckles
+conceives the great scheme of promotin' herself from the back to the
+front of the house. So she chucks up as workin' housekeeper, splurges on
+the wig, and strikes a swell intelligence office with this phony
+reference.
+
+Course, with anybody else but an easy mark like Mrs. Pinckney, maybe she
+wouldn't have got away with it; but all Geraldine does is glance at the
+paper, ask her if she likes children, and put her on the payroll.
+
+"Well?" says I. "And it got you some worried tryin' to make good, eh?"
+
+"I was near crazy over it," says she. "I thought I could do it at first;
+but it came cruel 'ard. Oh, sir, the lies I've 'ad to tell, keepin' it
+up. And with the rest of the 'elp all 'ating me! Marie used me worst of
+all, though. She made me tell 'er everything, and 'eld it over my 'ead.
+Next that Aunt Martha came and thought up so many bad things about
+me--you know."
+
+"Sure," says I; "but how about this Sir Podmore?"
+
+"I was 'ead laundress at Podmore 'Ouse," says she, "and I thought it was
+all up when he saw me here. I never should have tried to do it. I'm a
+good 'ousekeeper, if I do say it; but I'm getting to be an old woman now,
+and this will end me. It was for Katy I did it, though. Every week she
+used to come and throw it in my face that she couldn't call at the front
+door and--and----Well, I 'opes you'll believe me, sir; but that was just
+the way of it, and if I'm taken to jail it will kill Katy and----"
+
+"Aha!" breaks in a voice behind us. "Here, Pinckney! Come, Geraldine!
+This way everybody!" and as I turns around there's Aunt Martha with the
+accusin' finger out and her face fairly beamin'. Before I can get in a
+word she's assembled the fam'ly.
+
+"What did I tell you?" she cackles. "She's broken down and confessed! I
+heard her!"
+
+"Is it true, Shorty?" demands Mrs. Pinckney. "Does she admit that she was
+plotting to----"
+
+"Yep!" says I. "It's something awful too, almost enough to curdle your
+blood."
+
+"Go on," says Aunt Martha. "Tell us the worst. What is it?"
+
+"It's a case of standin' broad jump," says I, "from housekeeper to
+governess, with an age handicap and a crooked entry."
+
+Course, I has to work out the details for 'em, and when I've stated the
+whole hideous plot, from the passing of Truckles the Thirsty to the high
+pride of Katy the Barkeep's Bride, includin' the tale of the stolen
+character and chuckin' the nervy bluff--well, they didn't any of 'em know
+what to say. They just stands around gawpin' curious at this sobbin',
+wabbly kneed old party slumped down there on the hall seat.
+
+Aunt Martha, actin' as prosecutor for the State, is the first to recover.
+"Well, there's no knowin' how far she might have gone," says she. "And
+she ought to be punished some way. Pinckney, what are you going to do
+with her?"
+
+For a minute he looks from Aunt Martha to the object in the middle of the
+circle, and then he drops them black eyelashes lazy, like he was
+half-asleep, and I knew somethin' was coming worth listenin' to.
+
+"Considering all the circumstances," says Pinckney, "I think we shall
+discharge Marie, increase Mrs. Truckles' salary, give her an assistant,
+and ask her to stay with us permanently. Eh, Geraldine?"
+
+And Geraldine nods hearty.
+
+"Pinckney, let's shake on that," says I. "Even if your head is full of
+soap bubbles, you've got an eighteen-carat heart in you. Hear the news,
+Mrs. Truckles?"
+
+"Then--then I'm not to go to jail?" says she, takin' her hands off her
+face and lookin' up straight and steady for the first time in months.
+
+"Jail nothin'!" says I. "There's goin' to be a new deal, and you start in
+fresh with a clean slate."
+
+"Humph!" snorts Aunt Martha. "Do you expect me to stay here and
+countenance any such folly?"
+
+"I'm far too considerate of my relatives for that," says Pinckney.
+"There's a train at five-thirty-six."
+
+And, say, to see Mrs. Truckles now, with her gray hair showin' natural,
+and her chin up, and a twin hangin' to either hand, and the sleuthy look
+gone out of them old eyes, you'd hardly know her for the same party!
+
+These antelope leaps is all right sometimes; but when you take 'em you
+want to be wearin' your own shoes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+HEINEY TAKES THE GLOOM CURE
+
+
+Two in one day, mind you. It just goes to show what effect the first dose
+of hot weather is liable to have on the custard heads. Well, maybe I
+oughtn't to call 'em that, either. They can't seem to help gettin' that
+way, any more'n other folks can dodge havin' bad dreams, or boils on the
+neck. And I ain't any mind specialist; so when it comes to sayin' what'll
+soften up a man's brain, or whether he couldn't sidestep it if he tried,
+I passes the make.
+
+Now look at this dippy move of Mr. Jarvis's. Guess you don't remember
+him. I'd 'most forgot him myself, it's so long since he was around; but
+he's the young chap that owns that big Blenmont place, the gent that
+Swifty and I helped out with the fake match when he----Well, never mind
+that yarn. He got the girl, all right; and as he had everything else
+anybody could think of, it should have been a case of lockin' trouble on
+the outside and takin' joy for a permanent boarder.
+
+But there the other mornin', just as I was havin' a breathin' spell after
+hammerin' some surplus ego out of a young society sport that had the idea
+he could box, the studio door opens, and in pokes this Mr. Jarvis, actin'
+like he'd been doped.
+
+Now he's a big, husky, full blooded young gent, that's always used
+himself well, never collected any bad habits, and knows no more about
+being sick than a cat knows about swimmin'. Add to that the fact that
+he's one of the unemployed rich, with more money than he knows how to
+spend, and you can figure out how surprised I am to see that down and out
+look on his face. Course, I thinks something serious has been happenin'
+to him, and I treats him real gentle.
+
+"Hello, Mr. Jarvis!" says I. "Somebody been throwin' the hooks into you,
+have they?"
+
+"Oh, no," says he. "No, I--I'm all right."
+
+"That's good," says I. "Dropped in to let me hand you a few vibrations
+with the mitts?"
+
+"No, thank you, Shorty," says he, fingerin' a chair-back sort of
+hesitatin', as if he didn't know whether to sit down or stand up. "That
+is--er--I think I don't care for a bout to-day. I--I'm hardly in the
+mood, you see."
+
+"Just as you say," says I. "Have a seat, anyway. Sure! That one; it's
+reserved for you. Maybe you come in to enjoy some of my polite and
+refined conversation?"
+
+"Why--er--the fact is, Shorty," says he, fixin' his tie kind of nervous,
+"I--I don't know just why I did come in. I think I started for the club,
+and as I was passing by in a cab I looked up here at your
+windows--and--and----"
+
+"Of course," says I, soothin'. "What's the use goin' to the club when the
+Physical Culture Studio is handier? You're feelin' fine as silk; how're
+you lookin'?"
+
+"Eh? Beg pardon?" says he, gettin' twisted up on that mothy gag. "Oh, I
+see! I'm looking rotten, thank you, and feeling the same."
+
+"G'wan!" says I. "You ain't got any license to have feelin's like that.
+Guess you got the symptoms mixed. But where do you think it hurts most?"
+
+Well, it takes five or ten minutes of jollyin' like that to pull any
+details at all out of Jarvis, and when I does get the whole heartrendin'
+story, I hardly knows whether to give him the laugh, or to send out for a
+nursin' bottle.
+
+Ever seen a great, grown man play the baby act? Talk about a woman in a
+cryin' spell! That ain't a marker to watchin' a six-foot, one hundred and
+eighty-pound free citizen droop his mouth corners and slump his shoulders
+over nothin' at all. Course, I don't always feel like a hickey boy
+myself, and I'll admit there are times when the rosy tints get a little
+clouded up; but I has my own way of workin' out of such spells before the
+mullygrubs turns my gray matter into curdled milk. But Jarvis, he's as
+blue as a rainy Monday with the wash all in soak.
+
+In the first place, he's been alone for nearly three whole weeks, the
+women folks all bein' abroad, and it's a new experience for him. Think of
+that awful calamity happenin' to a man of his size! Seems that before he
+was married he'd always carted mother and sister around, under the idea
+that he was lookin' out for them, when as a matter of fact they was the
+ones that was lookin' after him. Then Mrs. Jarvis, Lady Evelyn that was,
+takes him in hand and makes him more helpless than ever. He never
+mistrusts how much he's been mollycoddled, until he finds himself with
+nobody but a valet, a housekeeper, and seventeen assorted servants to
+help him along in the struggle for existence.
+
+His first move after the ladies have sailed is to smoke until his tongue
+feels like a pussycat's back, eat his lonesome meals at lunch-counter
+clip, and work himself into a mild bilious state. That makes him a little
+cranky with the help, and, as there's no one around to smooth 'em out,
+the cook and half a dozen maids leaves in a bunch. His head coachman goes
+off on a bat, the housekeeper skips out to Ohio to bury an aunt, and the
+domestic gear at Blenmont gets to runnin' about as smooth as a flat wheel
+trolley car on a new roadbed.
+
+To finish off the horrible situation, Jarvis has had a misunderstandin'
+with a landscape architect that he'd engaged to do things to the grounds.
+Jarvis had planned to plant a swan lake in the front yard; but the
+landscaper points out that it can't be done because there's a hill in the
+way.
+
+"To be sure," says Jarvis, "these are little things; but I've been
+worrying over them until--until---- Well, I'm in bad shape, Shorty."
+
+"It's a wonder you're still alive," says I.
+
+"Don't!" says he, groanin'. "It is too serious a matter. Perhaps you
+don't know it, but I had an uncle that drank himself to death."
+
+"Huh!" says I. "'Most everybody has had an uncle of that kind."
+
+"And one of my cousins," Jarvis goes on, lowerin' his voice and lookin'
+around cautious, "shot himself--in the head!"
+
+"Eh?" says I. And then I begun to get a glimmer of what he was drivin'
+at. "What! You don't mean that you were thinkin' of--of----"
+
+He groans again and nods his head.
+
+Then I cuts loose. "Why, look here!" says I. "You soft boiled, mush
+headed, spineless imitation of a real man! do you mean to tell me that,
+just because you've been tied loose from a few skirts for a week or so,
+and have had to deal with some grouchy hired hands, you've actually gone
+jelly brained over it?"
+
+Perhaps that don't make him squirm some, though! He turns white first,
+and then he gets the hectic flush. "Pardon me, McCabe," says he,
+stiffenin' up, "but I don't care to have anyone talk to me like----"
+
+"Ah, pickles!" says I. "I'll talk to you a good deal straighter'n that,
+before I finish! And you'll take it, too! Why, you great, overgrown kid!
+what right have you developin' such a yellow cur streak as that? You!
+What you need is to be laid over that chair and paddled, and blamed if I
+don't know but I'd better----"
+
+But just here the door creaks, and in drifts the other one. Hanged if I
+ever did know what his real name was. I called him Heiney Kirschwasser
+for short, though he says he ain't Dutch at all, but Swiss-French; and
+that it ain't kirsch that's his failin', but prune brandy. He's the mop
+and broom artist for the buildin', some floater the janitor picked up off
+the sidewalk a few months back.
+
+He wa'n't exactly a decorative object, this Heiney; but he's kind of a
+picturesque ruin. His widest part is around the belt; and from there he
+tapers both ways, his shoulders bein' a good eight inches narrower; and
+on top of them, with no neck to speak of, is a head shaped like a gum
+drop, bald on top, and remindin' you of them mountain peaks you see in
+pictures, or a ham set on end.
+
+He has a pair of stary, pop eyes, a high colored beak that might be used
+as a danger signal, and a black, shoebrush beard, trimmed close except
+for a little spike under the chin, that gives the lower part of his face
+a look like the ace of spades. His mornin' costume is a faded blue
+jumper, brown checked pants, and an old pair of rubber soled shoes that
+Swifty had donated to him.
+
+That's Heiney's description, as near as I can get to it. He comes
+shufflin' in, luggin' a scrub pail in one hand, and draggin' a mop in the
+other, and he looks about as cheerful as a worn-out hearse that's been
+turned into an ash wagon.
+
+"Heiney," says I, "you're just in time. Still lookin' for a nice,
+comfortable place to die in, are you?"
+
+Heiney shrugs his shoulders and lifts his eyebrows in a lifeless sort of
+style. He does most of his conversin' that way; but he can say more with
+a few shrugs than Swifty Joe can by usin' both sides of his mouth. What
+Heiney means is that one place is as good as another, and he don't care
+how soon he finds it.
+
+"Well, cheer up, Heiney," says I; "for I've just decided to give you the
+use of my back room to shuffle off in. I've got comp'ny for you, too.
+Here's a friend of mine that feels the same way you do. Mr. Jarvis, Mr.
+Heiney Kirschwasser."
+
+And you should have seen the look of disgust on Jarvis's face as he sizes
+up the specimen. "Oh, I say now, Shorty," he begins, "there's such a
+thing as----"
+
+"G'wan!" says I. "Wa'n't you just tellin' me about how you was plannin' a
+job for the coroner? And Heiney's been threatenin' to do the same thing
+for weeks. He comes in here every day or so and talks about jumpin' off
+the dock, or doin' the air dance. I've been stavin' him off with slugs of
+prune brandy and doses of good advice; but if a chap like you has caught
+the fever, then I see I've been doin' wrong not to let Heiney have his
+way. Now there's the back room, with plenty of rope and gasjets. Get on
+in there, both of you, and make a reg'lar bee of it!"
+
+Heiney, he stands blinkin' and starin' at Jarvis, until he gets him so
+nervous he almost screams.
+
+"For Heaven's sake, Shorty," says Jarvis, "let's not joke about such a
+subject!"
+
+"Joke!" says I. "You're the one that's supplyin' the comedy here. Now
+Heiney is serious. He'd do the trick in a minute if he had the nerve.
+He's got things on his mind, Heiney has. And what's the odds if they
+ain't so? Compared to what you've been fussin' about, they're----Here,
+Heiney, you tell the gentleman that tale of yours. Begin where you was a
+cook in some seashore hotel in Switzerland."
+
+"Not zeashore! _Non_!" says Heiney, droppin' his pail and wavin' one
+hand. "Eet ees at Lack Como, in ze montongs. I am ze head chef, _moi!_"
+
+"Yes, you look it!" says I. "A fine figure of a chef you'd make! wouldn't
+you? Well, go on: about bein' full of prunes when they called on you to
+season the soup. What was it you dumped in instead of salt,--arsenic,
+eh?"
+
+"_Non, non!_" says Heiney, gettin' excited. "Ze poison for ze r-r-rat. I
+keep heem in one tin can, same as ze salt. I am what you call intoxicate.
+I make ze mistak'. Ah, _diable! Deux, trois_--t'ree hundred guests are
+zere. Zey eat ze soup. Zen come by me ze _maître d'hôtel._ He say ze soup
+ees spoil. Eet has ze foony taste. Ah, mon _Dieu! Mon_----"
+
+"Yes, yes," says I. "Never mind whether it was Monday or Tuesday. What
+did you do then?"
+
+"_Moi_? I fly!" says Heiney. "I am distract. I r-r-r-run on ze
+r-r-r-road. I tear-r-r off my white apron, my white chapeau. Ah,
+_sacr-r-ré nom!_ How my heart is thoomp, thoomp, on my inside! All night
+I speak to myself: 'You have keel zem all! Ze _belle_ ladies! Ze _pauvre_
+shildren! All, you have poi-zon-ed! Zey make to tweest up on ze floor!'
+Ah, _diable_! Always I can see zem tweest up!"
+
+"Reg'lar rough on rats carnival, eh?" says I. "Three hundred beautiful
+ladies and poor children, not to mention a few men, doin' the agony act
+on the dinin' room floor! There, Jarvis! How'd you like to carry round a
+movin' picture film like that in your mem'ry? Course, I've tried to
+explain to Heiney that nothing of the kind ever took place; that the
+papers would have been full of it; and that he'd been in the jug long
+before this, if it had. But this is Heiney's own particular pipe dream,
+and he can't let go of it. It's got tangled up in the works somehow, and
+nothing I can say will jar it loose. Poor cuss! Look at him! No doubt
+about its seemin' real to him, is there? And how does your little
+collection of fleabites show up alongside it; eh, Jarvis?"
+
+But Jarvis, he's gazin' at Heiney as if this lump of moldy sweitzerkase
+was fascinatin' to look at.
+
+"I beg pardon," says he, "but you say this hotel was at Lake Como?"
+
+Heiney nods his head, then covers his face with his hands, as if he was
+seein' things again.
+
+"And what was the date of this--this unfortunate occurrence?" says
+Jarvis.
+
+"Year before the last, in Augoost," says Heiney, shudderin',--"Augoost
+seven."
+
+"The seventh of August!" says Jarvis. "And was your hotel the Occident?"
+
+"_Oui, oui_!" says Heiney. "_L'Hôtel Occident_."
+
+"Guess he means Accident," says I. "What do you know about it, Jarvis?"
+
+"Why," says he, "I was there."
+
+"What?" says I. "Here, Heiney, wake up! Here's one of the victims of your
+rat poison soup. Does he look as though he'd been through that floor
+tweestin' orgy?"
+
+With that Heiney gets mighty interested; but he ain't convinced until
+Jarvis gives him all the details, even to namin' the landlord and
+describin' the head waiter.
+
+"But ze soup!" says Heiney. "Ze poi-zon-ed soup?"
+
+"It was bad soup," says Jarvis; "but not quite so bad as that. Nobody
+could eat it, and I believe the final report that we had on the subject
+was to the effect that a half intoxicated chef had seasoned it with the
+powdered alum that should have gone into the morning rolls."
+
+"Ze alum! Ze alum! Of zat I nevair think!" squeals Heiney, flopping down
+on his knees. "Ah, _le bon Dieu! Le bon Dieu_!"
+
+He clasps his hands in front of him and rolls his eyes to the ceilin'.
+Say, it was the liveliest French prayin' I ever saw; for Heiney is
+rockin' back and forth, his pop eyes leakin' brine, and the polly-voo
+conversation is bubblin' out of him like water out of a bu'sted fire
+hydrant.
+
+"Ah, quit it!" says I. "This is no camp meetin'."
+
+There's no shuttin' him off, though, and all the let-up he takes is to
+break off now and then to get Jarvis to tell him once more that it's all
+true.
+
+"You make _certainement_, eh?" says he. "Nobody was keel?"
+
+"Not a soul," says Jarvis. "I didn't even hear of anyone that was made
+ill."
+
+"Ah, _merci, merci_!" howls Heiney, beginnin' the rockin' horse act
+again.
+
+"Say, for the love of Pete, Heiney!" says I, "will you saw that off
+before you draw a crowd? I'm glad you believe Jarvis, and that Jarvis
+believes you; but hanged if I can quite swallow any such dopy yarn as
+that without somethin' more convincin'! All I know about you is that
+you're the worst floor scrubber I ever saw. And you say you was a cook,
+do you?"
+
+"Cook!" says Heiney, swellin' up his chest. "I am tell you zat I was ze
+premier chef. I have made for myself fame. Everywhere in _l'Europe_ zey
+will tell you of me. For the king of ze Englise I have made a dinner.
+_Moi!_ I have invent ze sauce Ravignon. From nozzing at all--some meat
+scraps, some leetle greens--I produce ze dish ravishment."
+
+"Yes, I've heard bluffs like that before," says I; "but I never saw one
+made good. Tell you what I'll do, though: In the far corner of the gym,
+there, is what Swifty Joe calls his kitchenet, where he warms up his
+chowder and beans. There's a two-burner gas stove, an old fryin' pan, and
+a coffee pot. Now here's a dollar. You take that out on Sixth-ave. and
+spend it for meat scraps and leetle greens. Then you come back here, and
+while Jarvis and I are takin' a little exercise, if you can hash up
+anything that's fit to eat, I'll believe your whole yarn. Do you make the
+try?"
+
+Does he? Say, you never saw such a tickled Frenchy in your life. Before
+Jarvis and me had got nicely peeled down for our delayed boxin' bout,
+Heiney is back with his bundles, has got the fryin' pan scoured, the gas
+blazin', and is throwin' things together like a juggler doin' a stage
+turn.
+
+He sheds the blue jumper, ties a bath towel around him for an apron,
+makes a hat out of a paper bag, and twists some of that stringy lip
+decoration of his into a pointed mustache. Honest, he didn't look nor act
+any more like the wreck that had dragged the mop in there half an hour
+before than I look like Bill Taft. And by the time we've had our three
+rounds and a rub down, he's standin' doubled up beside a little table
+that he's found, with his arms spread out like he was goin' to take a
+dive.
+
+"_Messieurs_," says he, "eet ees serve."
+
+"Good!" says I. "I'm just about up to tacklin' a hot lunch. What kind of
+a mess have you got here, anyway, Heiney? Any alum in it? Blamed if I
+don't make you put away the whole shootin' match if it ain't good!"
+
+How's that? Well, say, I couldn't name it, or say whether it was a stew,
+fry or an omelet, but for an impromptu sample of fancy grub it was a
+little the tastiest article I ever stacked up against.
+
+"Why!" says Jarvis, smackin' his lips after the third forkful. "It's _ris
+de veau_, isn't it?"
+
+"But yes, monsieur!" says Heiney, his face lightin' up. "Eet ees _ris de
+veau grillé, à la financier_."
+
+"And what's that in English?" says I.
+
+"In Englise," says Heiney, shruggin' his shoulders, "eet ees not exist.
+Eet ees Parisienne."
+
+"Bully for Paris, then!" says I. "Whatever it might be if it could be
+naturalized, it touches the spot. I take it all back, Heiney. You're the
+shiftiest chef that ever juggled a fryin' pan. A refill on the riddy-voo,
+seal-voo-plate."
+
+Well, what do you guess! Jarvis engages Heiney on the spot, and an hour
+later they've started for Blenmont, both of 'em actin' like they thought
+this was a good world to live in, after all.
+
+Yesterday me and Sadie accepts a special invite out there to dinner; and
+it was worth goin' out to get. From start to finish it was the finest
+that ever happened. Afterwards Jarvis has Heiney come up from the kitchen
+and show himself while we drinks his good health. And say, in his white
+togs and starched linen cap, he's got the chef on the canned goods ads.
+lookin' like a hash rustler in a beanery.
+
+As for Jarvis, he's got the pink back in his cheeks, and is holdin' his
+chin up once more, and when we left in the mornin' he was out bossin' a
+couple of hundred lab'rers that was takin' that hill in wheelbarrows and
+cartin' it off where it wouldn't interfere with the lake.
+
+"Shorty," says he, "I don't know how you did it, but you've made me a
+sane man again, and I owe you more than----"
+
+"Ah, chuck it!" says I. "It was curin' Heiney that cured you."
+
+"Really?" says he. "Then you are a believer in homeopathic
+psychotherapeutics?"
+
+"Which?" says I. "Say, write that down on my cuff by syllables, will you?
+I want to spring it on Swifty Joe."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+A TRY-OUT FOR TOODLEISM
+
+
+Eh? Yes, maybe I do walk a little stiff jointed; but, say, I'm satisfied
+to be walkin' around at all. If I hadn't had my luck with me the other
+day, I'd be wearin' that left leg in splints and bein' pushed around in a
+wheel chair. As it is, the meat is only a little sore, and a few more
+alcohol rubs will put it in shape.
+
+What was it come so near gettin' me on the disabled list? Toodleism! No,
+I expect you didn't; but let me put you next, son: there's more 'isms and
+'pathys and 'ists floatin' around these days, than any one head can keep
+track of. I don't know much about the lot; but this Toodleism's a punk
+proposition. Besides leavin' me with a game prop, it come near bu'stin'
+up the fam'ly.
+
+Seems like trouble was lookin' for me last week, anyway. First off, I has
+a run of old timers, that panhandles me out of all the loose coin I has
+in my clothes. You know how they'll come in streaks that way, sometimes?
+Why, I was thinkin' of havin' 'em form a line, one while. Then along
+about Thursday one of my back fletchers develops a case of jumps. What's
+a fletcher? Why, a steak grinder, and this one has a ripe spot in it.
+Course, it's me for the nickel plated plush chair, with the footrest and
+runnin' water attached; and after the tooth doctor has explored my jaw
+with a rock drill and a few other cute little tools, he says he'll kill
+the nerve.
+
+"Don't, Doc.!" says I. "That nerve's always been a friend of mine until
+lately. Wouldn't dopin' it do?"
+
+He says it wouldn't, that nothin' less'n capital punishment would reform
+a nerve like that; so I tells him to blaze away. No use goin' into
+details. Guess you've been there.
+
+"Say, Doc.," says I once when he was fittin' a fresh auger into the
+machine, "you ain't mistakin' me for the guilty party, are you?"
+
+"Did I hurt?" says he.
+
+"You don't call that ticklin', do you?" says I.
+
+But he only grins and goes on with the excavation. After he's blasted out
+a hole big enough for a terminal tunnel he jabs in a hunk of cotton
+soaked with sulphuric acid, and then tamps down the concrete.
+
+"There!" says he, handin' me a drug store drink flavored with
+formaldehyde. "In the course of forty-eight hours or so that nerve will
+be as dead as a piece of string. Meantime it may throb at intervals."
+
+That's what it did, too! It dies as hard as a campaign lie. About every
+so often, just when I'm forgettin', it wakes up again, takes a fresh
+hold, and proceeds to give an imitation of a live wire on an alternatin'
+circuit.
+
+"Ahr chee!" says Swifty Joe. "To look at the map of woe you're carryin'
+around, you'd think nobody ever had a bum tusk before."
+
+"Nobody ever had this one before," says I, "and the way I look now ain't
+chronic, like some faces I know of."
+
+"Ahr chee!" says Swifty, which is his way of bringin' in a minority
+report.
+
+The worst of it was, though, I'm billed to show up at Rockywold for a May
+party that Sadie and Mrs. Purdy-Pell was pullin' off, and when I lands
+there Friday afternoon the jaw sensations was still on the job. I'm
+feeling about as cheerful and chatty as a Zoo tiger with ingrowin'
+toenails. So, after I've done the polite handshake, and had a word with
+Sadie on the fly, I digs out my exercise uniform and makes a sneak down
+into their dinky little gym., where there's a first class punchin' bag
+that I picked out for Purdy-Pell myself.
+
+You know, I felt like I wanted to hit something, and hit hard. It wa'n't
+any idle impulse, either. That tooth was jumpin' so I could almost feel
+my heels leave the floor, and I had emotions that it would take more than
+language to express proper. So I peels off for it, down to a sleeveless
+jersey and a pair of flannel pants, and starts in to drum out the devil's
+tattoo on that pigskin bag.
+
+I was so busy relievin' my feelin's that I didn't notice anything float
+in the door; but after awhile I looks up and discovers the audience.
+She's a young female party that I didn't remember havin' seen before at
+any of the Rockywold doin's; but it looks like she's one of the guests,
+all right.
+
+Well, I hadn't been introduced, and I couldn't see what she was buttin'
+into the gym. for, anyway, so I keeps right on punchin' the bag; thinkin'
+that if she was shocked any by my costume she'd either get over it, or
+beat it and have a fit.
+
+She's one of the kind you might expect 'most anything from,--one of these
+long, limp, loppy, droop eyed fluffs, with terracotta hair, and a
+prunes-and-prisms mouth all puckered to say something soulful. She's
+wearin' a whackin' big black feather lid with a long plume trailin' down
+over one ear, a strawb'ry pink dress cut accordin' to Louis Catorz
+designs,--waist band under her armpits, you know,--and nineteen-button
+length gloves. Finish that off with a white hen feather boa, have her
+hands clasped real shy under her chin, and you've got a picture of what I
+sees there in the door. But it was the friendly size-up she was givin'
+me, and no mistake. She must have hung up there three or four minutes
+too, before she quits, without sayin' a word.
+
+At the end of half an hour I was feelin' some better; but when I'd got
+into my tailor made, I didn't have any great enthusiasm for tacklin'
+food.
+
+"Guess I'll appoint this a special fast day for mine," says I to Sadie.
+
+"Why, Shorty!" says she. "Whatever is the matter?" And she has no sooner
+heard about the touchy tusk than she says, "Oh, pooh! Just say there
+isn't any such thing as toothache. Pain, you know, is only a false mental
+photograph, an error of the mind, and----"
+
+"Ah, back up, Sadie!" says I. "Do you dream I don't know whether this
+jump is in my brain or my jaw? This is no halftone; it's the real
+thing."
+
+"Nonsense!" says she. "You come right downstairs and see Dr. Toodle.
+He'll fix it in no time."
+
+Seems this Toodle was the one the party had been arranged for, and Sadie
+has to hunt him up. It didn't take long to trail him down; for pretty
+soon she comes towin' him into the drawin'-room, where I'm camped down on
+a sofa, holdin' on with both hands.
+
+"Dr. Toodle," says she, "I want to present Mr. McCabe."
+
+Now, I don't claim any seventh-son powers; but I only has to take one
+look at Toodle to guess that he's some sort of a phony article. No
+reg'lar pill distributor would wear around that mushy look that he has
+on. He's a good sized, wide shouldered duck, with a thick crop of long
+hair that just clears his coat collar, and one of these smooth, soft,
+sentimental faces the women folks go nutty over,--you know, big nose,
+heavy chin, and sagged mouth corners. His get-up is something between a
+priest's and an actor's,--frock coat, smooth front black vest, and a
+collar buttoned behind. He gurgles out that he's charmed to meet Mr.
+McCabe, and wants to know what's wrong.
+
+"Nothin' but a specked tooth," says I. "But I can stand it."
+
+"My de-e-ear brother," says Toodle, puttin' his fingers together and
+gazin' down at me like a prison chaplain givin' a talk to murderers' row,
+"you are possessed of mental error. Your brain focus has been disturbed,
+and a blurred image has been cast on the sensitive retina of the----"
+
+"Ah, say, Doc.," says I, "cut out the preamble! If you've got a cocaine
+gun in your pocket, dig it up!"
+
+Then he goes off again with another string of gibberish, about pain bein'
+nothin' but thought, and thought bein' something we could steer to suit
+ourselves. I can't give you the patter word for word; but the nub of it
+was that I could knock that toothache out in one round just by thinkin'
+hard. Now wouldn't that peeve you? What?
+
+"All right, Doc.," says I. "I'll try thinkin' I ain't got any ache, if
+you'll sit here and keep me comp'ny by thinkin' you've had your dinner.
+Is it a go?"
+
+Well, it wa'n't. He shrugs his shoulders, and says he's afraid I'm a
+difficult subject, and then he teeters off on his toes. Sadie tells me I
+ought to be ashamed of myself for tryin' to be so fresh.
+
+"He's a very distinguished man," she says. "He's the founder of
+Toodleism. He's written a book about it."
+
+"I thought he looked like a nutty one," says I. "Keep him away from me;
+I'll be all right by mornin'."
+
+The argument might have lasted longer; but just then comes the dinner
+call, and they all goes in where the little necks was waitin' on the
+cracked ice, and I'm left alone to count the jumps and enjoy myself.
+Durin' one of the calm spells I wanders into the lib'ry, picks a funny
+paper off the table, and settles down in a cozy corner to read the jokes.
+I must have been there near an hour, when in drifts the loppy young lady
+in the pink what-d'ye-call-it,--the one I'd made the silent hit with in
+the gym.,--and she makes straight for me.
+
+"Oh, here you are!" says she, like we was old friends. "Do you know, I've
+just heard of your--your trouble."
+
+"Ah, it ain't any killin' matter," says I. "It don't amount to much."
+
+"Of course it doesn't!" says she. "And that is what I came to talk to you
+about. I am Miss Lee,--Violet Lee."
+
+"Ye-e-es?" says I.
+
+"You see," she goes on, "I am Dr. Toodle's secretary and assistant."
+
+"Oh!" says I. "He's in luck, then."
+
+"Now, now!" says she, just like that, givin' me a real giddy tap with her
+fan. "You must be real serious."
+
+"I'm in condition to be all of that," says I. "Are you plannin' to try
+the----"
+
+"I am going to help you to banish the imaginary pains, Mr. McCabe," says
+she. "Now first you must repeat after me the _summum bonum_."
+
+"Eh?" says I.
+
+"It's very simple," says she, floppin' down on the cushions alongside and
+reachin' out for one of my hands. "It begins this way, 'I am a child of
+light and goodness.' Now say that."
+
+Say, how would you duck a proposition of that kind? There was Violet,
+with her big eyes rolled at me real pleadin', and her mouth puckered up
+real cunning, and the soft, clingin' grip on my right paw. Well, I says
+it over.
+
+"That's it!" she purrs. "Now, 'Evil and fear and pain are the creatures
+of darkness.' Go on!"
+
+"Sure thing!" says I. "'Evil and fear and----Ouch!"
+
+Ever feel one of them last gasps that a nerve gives when it goes out of
+business? I thought the top of my head was comin' off. But it didn't, and
+a couple of seconds later I knew the jumpin' was all over; so I
+straightens my face out, and we proceeds with the catechism.
+
+It was a bird, too. I didn't mind doin' it at all with Miss Lee there to
+help; for, in spite of her loppy ways, she's more or less of a candy
+girl. There was a good deal to it, and it all means the same as what
+Toodle was tryin' to hand out; but now that the ache has quit I'm ready
+for any kind of foolishness.
+
+Violet had got to the point where she has snuggled up nice and close,
+with one hand still grippin' mine and the other smoothin' out my jaw
+while she told me again how pain was only a pipe dream,--when I glances
+over her shoulder and sees Sadie floatin' in hangin' to Dr. Toodle's
+arm.
+
+And does Sadie miss the tableau in our corner? Not to any extent! Her
+eyebrows go up, and her mouth comes open. That's the first indication.
+Next her lips shut tight, and her eyes narrow down, and before you could
+count three she's let go of Toodle as if he was a hot potato, and she's
+makin' a bee line for the cozy corner.
+
+"Why!" says Miss Lee, lookin' up and forecastin' the comin' conditions in
+a flash. "Is dinner over? Oh, and there's Dr. Toodle!" and off she trips,
+leavin' the McCabe fam'ly to hold a reunion.
+
+"Well, I never!" says Sadie, givin' me the gimlet gaze. And say, she puts
+plenty of expression into them three words.
+
+"Me either," says I. "Not very often, anyway. But a chance is a chance."
+
+"I hope I didn't intrude?" says she, her eyes snappin'.
+
+"There's no tellin'," says I.
+
+"It was a very touching scene!" says she. "Very!"
+
+"Wa'n't it?" says I. "Nice girl, Violet."
+
+"Violet! Humph!" says she. "There's no accounting for tastes!"
+
+"Just what I was thinkin' when I see you with the timelock clutch on that
+freak doctor's south wing," says I.
+
+"Dr. Toodle," says she, "was explaining to me his wonderful self healing
+theories."
+
+"And dear Violet," says I, "was puttin' me through a course of sprouts in
+the automatic toothache cure."
+
+"Oh, indeed!" says Sadie. "Was patting your cheek part of it?"
+
+"I hope so," says I.
+
+"Huh!" says she. "I suppose it worked?"
+
+"Like a charm," says I. "All that bothers me now is how I can dig up
+another pain."
+
+"You might have your dear Violet see what can be done for that soft spot
+in your head!" she snaps. "Only next time take her off out of sight,
+please."
+
+"Oh, we'll attend to that, all right," says I. "This havin' a green eyed
+wife buttin' in just at the interestin' point is something fierce!" And
+that's where I spread it on too thick.
+
+"Don't be a chump, Shorty!" says Sadie, lettin' loose a sudden giggle and
+mussin' my hair up with both hands. It's a way she has of gettin' out of
+a corner, and she's skipped off before I'm sure whether she's still got a
+grouch, or is only lettin' on.
+
+By that time my appetite has come back; so I holds up the butler and has
+him lay out a solitaire feed. And when I goes back to the crowd again I
+finds Toodle has the center of the stage, with the spotlight full on him.
+All the women are gathered round, listening to his guff like it was sound
+sense. Seems he's organized a new deal on the thought cure stunt, and
+he's workin' it for all it's worth. The men, though, don't appear so
+excited over what he's sayin'.
+
+"Confounded rubbish, I call it!" says Mr. Purdy-Pell.
+
+"You ought to hear it from Violet," says I. "She's the star explainer of
+that combination."
+
+But Violet seems to have faded into the background. We don't see anything
+more of her that evenin', nor she wa'n't in evidence next mornin'. Doc.
+Toodle was, though. He begins by tellin' how he never takes anything but
+hot water and milk on risin'; but that in the middle of the forenoon he
+makes it a point to put away about three fresh laid eggs, raw, in a glass
+of sherry.
+
+"How interesting!" says Mrs. Purdy-Pell. "Then we must drive over to
+Fernbrook Farm, right after breakfast, and get some of their lovely White
+Leghorn eggs."
+
+That was the sort of excursion I was rung into; so the bunch of us piles
+into the wagonette and starts for a fresh supply of hen fruit. When we
+gets to the farm the superintendent invites us to take a tour through the
+incubator houses, and of course they all wants to see the dear little
+chickies and so on. All but me. I stays and chins with the coachman while
+he walks the horses around the driveway.
+
+In about half an hour they comes troopin' back, Toodle in the lead,
+luggin' a paper bag full of warm eggs. He don't wait for the others, but
+pikes for the wagonette and climbs in one of the side seats facin' me. We
+was just turnin' to back up to the block for the ladies, when a yellow
+kyoodle dashes around the corner after a cat. Them skittish horses was
+just waitin' for some such excuse as that, and before Mr. Driver can put
+the curb bit on 'em hard enough they've done a quick pivot, cramped the
+wheels, and turned us over on the soggy grass as neat as anything you
+ever see.
+
+Me bein' on the low side, I strikes the ground first; but before I can
+squirm out, down comes Toodle on top, landin' his one hundred and ninety
+pounds so sudden that it knocks the wind clear out of me. He's turned
+over on the way down, so I've got his shoulder borin' into my chest and
+the heavy part of him on my leg.
+
+Course, the women squeals, and the horses cut up some; but the driver has
+landed on his feet and has them by the head in no time at all, so we
+wa'n't dragged around any. Noticin' that, I lays still and waits for
+Toodle to pry himself loose. But the Doc. don't seem in any hurry to
+move, and the next thing I know I hear him groanin' and mumblin' under
+his breath. Between groans he was tryin' to say over that rigmarole of
+his.
+
+"I am a child of light--Oh, dear me!--of light and goodness!" he was
+pantin' out. "Evil and fear and--Oh, my poor back!--and pain are
+creatures of--Oh my, oh my!--of darkness! Nothing can harm me!"
+
+"Say, something is goin' to harm you mighty sudden," says I, "if you
+don't let me up out of this."
+
+"Oh, my life blood!" he groans. "I can feel my life blood! Oh, oh! I am a
+child of----"
+
+"Ah, slush!" says I. "Get up and shake yourself. Think I'm a bloomin'
+prayer rug that you can squat on all day? Roll over!" and I manages to
+hand him a short arm punch in the ribs that stirs him up enough so I can
+slide out from under. Soon's I get on my feet and can hop around once or
+twice I finds there's no bones stickin' through, and then I turns to have
+a look at him.
+
+And say, I wouldn't have missed that exhibition for twice the shakin' up
+I got! There he is, stretched out on the wet turf, his eyelids
+flutterin', his breath comin' fast, and his two hands huggin' tight
+what's left of that bu'sted paper bag, right up against the front of his
+preacher's vest. And can you guess what's happened to them eggs?
+
+"Oh, my life blood!" he keeps on moanin'. "I can feel it oozing
+through----"
+
+"Ah, you're switched, Toodle!" says I. "Your brain kodak is out of
+register, that's all. It ain't life blood you're losin'; it's only your
+new laid omelet that's leakin' over your vest front."
+
+About then I gets a squint at Sadie and Mrs. Purdy-Pell, and they're
+almost chokin' to death in a funny fit.
+
+Well, say, that was the finish of Toodleism with the Rockywold bunch. The
+Doc. didn't have a scratch nor a bruise on him, and after he'd been
+helped up and scraped off, he was almost as good as new. But his
+conversation works is clogged for good, and he has his chin down on his
+collar. They sends him and Violet down to catch the next train, and Sadie
+and Mrs. Purdy-Pell spends the rest of the day givin' imitations of how
+Toodle hugged up the eggs and grunted that he was a child of light.
+
+"Not that I don't believe there was something in what he said," Sadie
+explains to me afterwards; "only--only----"
+
+"Only he was a false alarm, eh?" says I. "Well, Violet wa'n't that kind,
+anyway."
+
+"Pooh!" says she. "I suppose you'll brag about Violet for the rest of
+your life."
+
+Can you keep 'em guessin' long, when it comes to things of that kind? Not
+if they're like Sadie.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+THE CASE OF THE TISCOTTS
+
+
+What I had on the slate for this part'cular afternoon was a brisk walk up
+Broadway as far as the gasoline district and a little soothin'
+conversation with Mr. Cecil Slattery about the new roadster he's tryin'
+to Paladino me into placin' my order for. I'd just washed up and was in
+the gym. giving my coat a few licks with the whisk broom, when Swifty Joe
+comes tiptoein' in, taps me on the shoulder, and points solemn into the
+front office.
+
+"That's right," says I, "break it to me gentle."
+
+"Get into it quick!" says he, grabbin' the coat.
+
+"Eh?" says I. "Fire, police, or what?"
+
+"S-s-sh!" says he. "Lady to see you."
+
+"What kind," says I, "perfect, or just plain lady? And what's her name?"
+
+"Ahr-r-r chee!" he whispers, hoarse and stagy. "Didn't I tell you it was
+a lady? Get a move on!" and he lifts me into the sleeves and yanks away
+the whisk broom.
+
+"See here, Swifty," says I, "if this is another of them hot air
+demonstrators, or a book agent, there'll be trouble comin' your way in
+bunches! Remember, now!"
+
+Here was once, though, when Swifty hadn't made any mistake. Not that he
+shows such wonderful intelligence in this case. With her wearin' all them
+expensive furs, and the cute little English footman standin' up straight
+in his yellow topped boots over by the door, who wouldn't have known she
+was a real lady?
+
+She's got up all in black, not exactly a mournin' costume, but one of
+these real broadcloth regalias, plain but classy. She's a tall, slim
+party, and from the three-quarters' view I gets against the light I
+should guess she was goin' on thirty or a little past it. All she's armed
+with is a roll of paper, and as I steps in she's drummin' with it on the
+window sill.
+
+Course, we has all kinds driftin' into the studio here, by mistake and
+otherwise, and I gen'rally makes a guess on 'em right; but this one don't
+suggest anything at all. Even that rat faced tiger of hers could have
+told her this wa'n't any French millinery parlor, and she didn't look
+like one who'd get off the trail anyway. So I plays a safety by coughin'
+polite behind my hand and lettin' her make the break. She ain't backward
+about it, either.
+
+"Why, there you are, Professor McCabe!" says she, in that gushy, up and
+down tone, like she was usin' language as some sort of throat gargle.
+"How perfectly dear of you to be here, too!"
+
+"Yes, ain't it?" says I. "I've kind of got into the habit of bein'
+here."
+
+"Really, now!" says she, smilin' just as though we was carryin' on a
+sensible conversation. And it's a swagger stunt too, this talkin' without
+sayin' anything. When you get so you can keep it up for an hour you're
+qualified either for the afternoon tea class or the batty ward. But the
+lady ain't here just to pay a social call. She makes a quick shift and
+announces that she's Miss Colliver, also hoping that I remember her.
+
+"Why, sure," says I. "Miss Ann, ain't it?"
+
+As a matter of fact, the only time we was ever within speakin' distance
+was once at the Purdy-Pells' when she blew in for a minute just at dinner
+time, lifted a bunch of American Beauties off the table with the excuse
+that they was just what she wanted to send to the Blind Asylum, and blew
+out again.
+
+But of course I couldn't help knowin' who she was and all about her.
+Ain't the papers always full of her charity doin's, her funds for this
+and that, and her new discoveries of shockin' things about the poor?
+Ain't she built up a rep as a lady philanthropist that's too busy doing
+good to ever get married? Maybe Mrs. Russell Sage and Helen Gould has
+gained a few laps on her lately; but when it comes to startin' things for
+the Tattered Tenth there ain't many others that's got much on her.
+
+"Gee!" thinks I. "Wonder what she's going to do for me?"
+
+I ain't left long in doubt. She backs me up against the desk and cuts
+loose with the straight talk. "I came in to tell you about my new
+enterprise, Piny Crest Court," says she.
+
+"Apartment house, is it?" says I.
+
+"No, no!" says she. "Haven't you read about it? It's to be a white plague
+station for working girls."
+
+"A white--white----Oh! For lungers, eh?"
+
+"We never speak of them in that way, you know," says she, handin' me the
+reprovin' look. "Piny Crest Court is the name I've given to the site.
+Rather sweet, is it not? Really there are no pines on it, you know; but I
+shall have a few set out. The buildings are to be perfectly lovely. I've
+just seen the architect's plans,--four open front cottages grouped around
+an administration infirmary, the superintendent's office to be finished
+in white mahogany and gold, and the directors' room in Circassian walnut,
+with a stucco frieze after della Robbia. Don't you simply love those
+Robbia bambinos?"
+
+"Great!" says I, lyin' as easy and genteel as if I had lots of practice.
+
+"I am simply crazy to have the work started," she goes on; "so I am
+spending three afternoons a week in filling up my lists. Everyone
+responds so heartily, too. Now, let me see, I believe I have put you down
+for a life membership."
+
+"Eh?" says I, gaspin' some; for it ain't often I'm elected to things.
+
+"You will have the privilege of voting for board members and of
+recommending two applicants a year. A life membership is two hundred and
+fifty dollars."
+
+"You mean I get two-fifty," says I, "for--for just----"
+
+Then I came to. And, say, did you ever know such a bonehead? Honest,
+though, from all I'd heard of the way she spreads her money around, and
+the patronizin' style she has of puttin' this proposition up to me, I
+couldn't tell for a minute how she meant it. And when I suddenly
+surrounds the idea that it's me gives up the two-fifty, I'm so fussed
+that I drops back into the chair and begins to hunt through the desk for
+my checkbook. And then I feels myself growin' a little warm behind the
+ears.
+
+"So you just put me down offhand for two hundred and fifty, did you?"
+says I.
+
+"If you wish," says she, "you may take out a life certificate for each
+member of your family. Several have done that. Let me show you my list of
+subscribers. See, here are some of the prominent merchants and
+manufacturing firms. I haven't begun on the brokers and bankers yet; but
+you will be in good company."
+
+"Ye-e-es?" says I, runnin' my eye over the firm names. "But I don't know
+much about this scheme of yours, Miss Colliver."
+
+"Why, it is for working girls," says she, "who are victims of the white
+plague. We take them up to Piny Crest and cure them."
+
+"Of working?" says I.
+
+"Of the plague," says she. "It is going to be the grandest thing I've
+done yet. And I have the names of such a lot of the most interesting
+cases; poor creatures, you know, who are suffering in the most wretched
+quarters. I do hope they will last until the station is finished. It
+means finding a new lot, if they don't, and the public organizations are
+becoming so active in that sort of thing, don't you see?"
+
+Somehow, I don't catch it all, she puts over her ideas so fast; but I
+gather that she'd like to have me come up prompt with my little old
+two-fifty so she can get busy givin' out the contracts. Seein' me still
+hangin' back, though, she's willin' to spend a few minutes more in
+describin' some of the worst cases, which she proceeds to do.
+
+"We estimate," says Miss Ann as a final clincher, "that the average cost
+is about fifty dollars per patient. Now," and she sticks the subscription
+list into my fist, "here is an opportunity! Do you wish to save five
+human lives?"
+
+Ever had it thrown into you like that? The sensation is a good deal like
+bein' tied to a post and havin' your pockets frisked by a holdup gang.
+Anyway, that's the way I felt, and then the next minute I'm ashamed of
+havin' any such feelings at all; for there's no denyin' that dozens of
+cases like she mentions can be dug up in any crowded block. Seems kind of
+inhuman, too, not to want chip in and help save 'em. And yet there I was
+gettin' grouchy over it, without knowin' why!
+
+"Well," says I, squirmin' in the chair, "I'd like to save five hundred,
+if I could. How many do you say you're going to take care of up at this
+new place?"
+
+"Sixty," says she. "I select the most pitiful cases. I am taking some
+things to one of them now. I wish you could see the awful misery in that
+home! I could take you down there, you know, and show you what a squalid
+existence they lead, these Tiscotts."
+
+"Tiscotts!" says I, prickin' up my ears. "What Tiscotts? What's his first
+name?"
+
+"I never heard the husband mentioned," says Miss Ann. "I doubt if there
+is one. The woman's name, I think, is Mrs. Anthony Tiscott. Of course,
+unless you are really interested----"
+
+"I am," says I. "I'm ready to go when you are."
+
+That seems to jar Miss Colliver some, and she tries a little shifty
+sidestepping; but I puts it up to her as flat as she had handed it to me
+about savin' the five lives. It was either make good or welsh, and she
+comes to the scratch cheerful.
+
+"Very well, then," says she, "we will drive down there at once."
+
+So it's me into the Victoria alongside of Miss Ann, with the fat coachman
+pilotin' us down Fifth-ave. to 14th, then across to Third-ave., and again
+down and over to the far East Side.
+
+I forget the exact block; but it's one of the old style double-deckers,
+with rusty fire escapes decorated with beddin' hung out to air, dark
+hallways that has a perfume a garbage cart would be ashamed of, rickety
+stairs, plasterin' all gone off the halls, and other usual signs of real
+estate that the agents squeeze fifteen per cent. out of. You know how
+it's done, by fixin' the Buildin' and Board of Health inspectors, jammin'
+from six to ten fam'lies in on a floor, never makin' any repairs, and
+collectin' weekly rents or servin' dispossess notices prompt when they
+don't pay up.
+
+Lovely place to hang up one of the "Home, Sweet Home" mottoes! There's a
+water tap in every hall, so all the tenants can have as much as they
+want, stove holes in most of the rooms, and you buy your coal by the
+bucket at the rate of about fourteen dollars a ton. Only three a week for
+a room, twelve dollars a month. Course, that's more per room than you'd
+pay on the upper West Side with steam heat, elevator service, and a
+Tennessee marble entrance hall thrown in; but the luxury of stowin' a
+whole fam'ly into one room comes high. Or maybe the landlords are doin'
+it to discourage poverty.
+
+"This is where the Tiscotts hang out, is it?" says I. "Shall I lug the
+basket for you, Miss Colliver?"
+
+"Dear no!" says she. "I never go into such places. I always send the
+things in by Hutchins. He will bring Mrs. Tiscott down and she will tell
+us about her troubles."
+
+"Let Hutchins sit on the box this time," says I, grabbin' up the basket.
+"Besides, I don't want any second hand report."
+
+"But surely," puts in Miss Ann, "you are not going into such a----"
+
+"Why not?" says I. "I begun livin' in one just like it."
+
+At that Miss Ann settles back under the robe, shrugs her shoulders into
+her furs, and waves for me to go ahead.
+
+Half a dozen kids on the doorstep told me in chorus where I'd find the
+Tiscotts, and after I've climbed up through four layers of stale cabbage
+and fried onion smells and felt my way along to the third door left from
+the top of the stairs, I makes my entrance as the special messenger of
+the ministerin' angel.
+
+It's the usual fam'ly-room tenement scene, such as the slum writers are
+so fond of describin' with the agony pedal down hard, only there ain't
+quite so much dirt and rags in evidence as they'd like. There's plenty,
+though. Also there's a lot of industry on view. Over by the light shaft
+window is Mrs. Tiscott, pumpin' a sewin' machine like she was entered in
+a twenty-four-hour endurance race, with a big bundle of raw materials at
+one side. In front of her is the oldest girl, sewin' buttons onto white
+goods; while the three younger kids, includin' the four-year-old boy, are
+spread out around the table in the middle of the room, pickin' nut meat
+into the dishpan.
+
+What's the use of tellin' how Mrs. Tiscott's stringy hair was bobbed up,
+or the kind of wrapper she had on? You wouldn't expect her to be sportin'
+a Sixth-ave. built pompadour, or a lingerie reception gown, would you?
+And where they don't have Swedish nursery governesses and porcelain tubs,
+the youngsters are apt not to be so----But maybe you'll relish your nut
+candy and walnut cake better if we skip some details about the state of
+the kids' hands. What's the odds where the contractors gets such work
+done, so long as they can shave their estimates?
+
+The really int'restin' exhibit in this fam'ly group, of course, is the
+bent shouldered, peaked faced girl who has humped herself almost double
+and is slappin' little pearl buttons on white goods at the rate of twenty
+a minute. And there's no deception about her being a fine case for Piny
+Crest. You don't even have to hear that bark of hers to know it.
+
+I stands there lookin' 'em over for a whole minute before anybody pays
+any attention to me. Then Mrs. Tiscott glances up and stops her machine.
+
+"Who's that?" she sings out. "What do you----Why! Well, of all things,
+Shorty McCabe, what brings you here?"
+
+"I'm playin' errand boy for the kind Miss Colliver," says I, holdin' up
+the basket.
+
+Is there a grand rush my way, and glad cries, and tears of joy? Nothing
+doing in the thankful hysterics line.
+
+"Oh!" says Mrs. Tiscott. "Well, let's see what it is this time." And she
+proceeds to dump out Miss Ann's contribution. There's a glass of
+gooseb'ry bar le duc, another of guava jelly, a little can of pâté de
+foie gras, and half a dozen lady fingers.
+
+"Huh!" says she, shovin' the truck over on the window sill. As she's
+expressed my sentiments too, I lets it go at that.
+
+"Looks like one of your busy days," says I.
+
+"One of 'em!" says she with a snort, yankin' some more pieces out of the
+bundle and slippin' a fresh spool of cotton onto the machine.
+
+"What's the job?" says I.
+
+"Baby dresses," says she.
+
+"Good money in it?" says I.
+
+"Oh, sure!" says she. "Forty cents a dozen is good, ain't it?"
+
+"What noble merchant prince is so generous to you as all that?" says I.
+
+Mrs. Tiscott, she shoves over the sweater's shop tag so I can read for
+myself. Curious,--wa'n't it?--but it's the same firm whose name heads the
+Piny Crest subscription list. It's time to change the subject.
+
+"How's Annie?" says I, lookin' over at her.
+
+"Her cough don't seem to get any better," says Mrs. Tiscott. "She's had
+it since she had to quit work in the gas mantle shop. That's where she
+got it. The dust, you know."
+
+Yes, I knew. "How about Tony?" says I.
+
+"Tony!" says she, hard and bitter. "How do I know? He ain't been near us
+for a month past."
+
+"Sends in something of a Saturday, don't he?" says I.
+
+"Would I be lettin' the likes of her--that Miss Colliver--come here if he
+did," says she, "or workin' my eyes out like this?"
+
+"I thought Lizzie was in a store?" says I, noddin' towards the
+twelve-year-old girl at the nut pickin' table.
+
+"They always lays off half the bundle girls after Christmas," says Mrs.
+Tiscott. "That's why we don't see Tony regular every payday any more. He
+had the nerve to claim most of Lizzie's envelope."
+
+Then it was my turn to say "Huh!"
+
+"Why don't you have him up?" says I.
+
+"I'm a-scared," says she. "He's promised to break my head."
+
+"Think he would?" says I.
+
+"Yes," says she. "He's changed for the worse lately. He'd do it, all
+right, if I took him to court."
+
+"What if I stood ready to break his, eh?" says I. "Would that hold him?"
+
+Say, it wa'n't an elevatin' or cheerful conversation me and Mrs. Tiscott
+indulged in; but it was more or less to the point. She's some int'rested
+in the last proposition of mine, and when I adds a few frills about
+givin' a butcher's order and standin' for a sack of potatoes, she agrees
+to swear out the summons for Tony, providin' I'll hand it to him and be
+in court to scare the liver out of him when she talks to the Justice.
+
+"I hate to do it too," says she.
+
+"I know," says I; "but no meat or potatoes from me unless you do!"
+
+Sounds kind of harsh, don't it? You'd think I had a special grudge
+against Tony Tiscott too. But say, it's only because I know him and his
+kind so well. Nothing so peculiar about his case. Lots of them swell
+coachmen go that way, and in his day Tony has driven for some big people.
+Him and me got acquainted when he was wearin' the Twombley-Crane livery
+and drawin' down his sixty-five a month. That wa'n't so long ago,
+either.
+
+But it's hard waitin' hours on the box in cold weather, and they get to
+boozin'. When they hit it up too free they lose their places. After
+they've lost too many places they don't get any more. Meantime they've
+accumulated rheumatism and a fam'ly of kids. They've got lazy habits too,
+and new jobs don't come easy at forty. The next degree is loafin' around
+home permanent; but they ain't apt to find that so pleasant unless the
+wife is a good hustler. Most likely she rows it. So they chuck the fam'ly
+and drift off by themselves.
+
+That's the sort of chaps you'll find on the bread lines. But Tony hadn't
+quite got to that yet. I knew the corner beer joint where he did odd jobs
+as free lunch carver and window cleaner. Also I knew the line of talk I
+meant to hand out to him when I got my fingers on his collar.
+
+"Well?" says Miss Ann, when I comes back with the empty basket. "Did you
+find it an interesting case?"
+
+"Maybe that's the word," says I.
+
+"You saw the young woman, did you?" says she, "the one who----"
+
+"Sure," says I. "She's got it--bad."
+
+"Ah!" says Miss Ann, brightenin' up. "And now about that life
+membership!"
+
+"Well," says I, "the Piny Crest proposition is all right, and I'd like to
+see it started; but the fact is, Miss Colliver, if I should put my name
+down with all them big people I'd be runnin' out of my class."
+
+"You would be--er----Beg pardon," says she, "but I don't think I quite
+get you?"
+
+I'd suspected she wouldn't. But how was I going to dope out to her clear
+and straight what's so muddled up in my own head? You know, all about how
+Annie got her cough, and my feelin's towards the firms that's sweatin'
+the Tiscotts, from the baby up, and a lot of other things that I can't
+state.
+
+"As I said," goes on Miss Colliver, "I hardly think I understand."
+
+"Me either," says I. "My head's just a merry go round of whys and
+whatfors. But, as far as that fund of yours goes, I don't come in."
+
+"Humph!" says she. "That, at least, is quite definite. Home, Hutchins!"
+
+And there I am left on the curb lookin' foolish. Me, I don't ride back to
+the studio on any broadcloth cushions! Serves me right too, I expect. I
+feels mean and low down all the rest of the day, until I gets some
+satisfaction by huntin' up Tony and throwin' such a scare into him that
+he goes out and finds a porter's job and swears by all that's holy he'll
+take up with the fam'ly again.
+
+But think of the chance I passed up of breakin' into the high toned
+philanthropy class!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+CLASSING TUTWATER RIGHT
+
+
+Maybe that brass plate had been up in the lower hall of our buildin' a
+month or so before I takes any partic'lar notice of it. Even when I did
+get my eye on it one mornin' it only gets me mildly curious. "Tutwater,
+Director of Enterprises, Room 37, Fourth Floor," is all it says on it.
+
+"Huh!" thinks I. "That's goin' some for a nine by ten coop under the
+skylight."
+
+And with that I should have let it drop, I expect. But what's the use?
+Where's the fun of livin', if you can't mix in now and then. And you know
+how I am.
+
+Well, I comes pikin' up the stairs one day not long after discoverin' the
+sign, and here on my landin', right in front of the studio door, I finds
+this Greek that runs the towel supply wagon usin' up his entire United
+States vocabulary on a strange gent that he's backed into a corner.
+
+"Easy, there, easy, Mr. Poulykopolis!" says I. "This ain't any golf
+links, where you can smoke up the atmosphere with language like that.
+What's the row, anyway?"
+
+"No pay for five week; always nex' time, he tells, nex' time. Gr-r-r-r! I
+am strong to slap his life out, me!" says Pouly, thumpin' his chest and
+shakin' his black curls. They sure are fierce actin' citizens when
+they're excited, these Marathoners.
+
+"Yes, you would!" says I. "Slap his life out? G'wan! If he handed you one
+jolt you wouldn't stop runnin' for a week. How big is this national debt
+you say he owes you! How much?"
+
+"Five week!" says Pouly. "One dollar twenty-five."
+
+"Sufferin' Shylocks! All of that? Well, neighbor," says I to the strange
+gent, "has he stated it correct?"
+
+"Perfectly, sir, perfectly," says the party of the second part. "I do not
+deny the indebtedness in the least. I was merely trying to explain to
+this agent of cleanliness that, having been unable to get to the bank
+this morning, I should be obliged to----"
+
+"Why, of course," says I. "And in that case allow me to stake you to the
+price of peace. Here you are, Pouly. Now go out in the sun and cool
+off."
+
+"My dear sir," says the stranger, followin' me into the front office,
+"permit me to----"
+
+"Ah, never mind the resolutions!" says I, "It was worth riskin' that much
+for the sake of stoppin' the riot. Yes, I know you'll pay it back. Let's
+see, which is your floor?"
+
+"Top, sir," says he, "room 37."
+
+"Oh ho!" says I. "Then you're the enterprise director, Tutwater?"
+
+"And your very humble servant, sir," says he, bringin' his yellow Panama
+lid off with a full arm sweep, and throwin' one leg graceful over the
+back of a chair.
+
+At that I takes a closer look at him, and before I've got half through
+the inspection I've waved a sad farewell to that one twenty-five. From
+the frayed necktie down to the runover shoes, Tutwater is a walkin'
+example of the poor debtor's oath. The shiny seams of the black frock
+coat shouts of home pressin', and the limp way his white vest fits him
+suggests that he does his own laundry work in the washbowl. But he's
+clean shaved and clean brushed, and you can guess he's seen the time when
+he had such things done for him in style.
+
+Yet there ain't anything about the way Tutwater carries himself that
+signifies he's down and out. Not much! He's got the easy, confident swing
+to his shoulders that you might expect from a sport who'd just picked
+three winners runnin'.
+
+Rather a tall, fairly well built gent he is, with a good chest on him,
+and he has one of these eager, earnest faces that shows he's alive all
+the time. You wouldn't call him a handsome man, though, on account of the
+deep furrows down each side of his cheeks and the prominent jut to his
+eyebrows; but, somehow, when he gets to talkin', them eyes of his lights
+up so you forget the rest of his features.
+
+You've seen chaps like that. Gen'rally they're cranks of some kind or
+other, and when they ain't they're topliners. So I puts Tutwater down as
+belongin' to the crank class, and it wa'n't long before he begun livin'
+up to the description.
+
+"Director of enterprises, eh?" says I. "That's a new one on me."
+
+"Naturally," says he, wavin' his hand, "considering that I am first in
+the field. It is a profession I am creating."
+
+"So?" says I. "Well, how are you comin' on?"
+
+"Excellently, sir, excellently," says he. "I have found, for the first
+time in my somewhat varied career, full scope for what I am pleased to
+call my talents. Of course, the work of preparing the ground is a slow
+process, and the--er--ahem--the results have not as yet begun to
+materialize; but when Opportunity comes my way, sir----Aha! Ha, ha! Ho,
+ho! Well, then we shall see if Tutwater is not ready for her!"
+
+"I see," says I. "You with your hand on the knob, eh? It's an easy way of
+passin' the time too; that is, providin' such things as visits from the
+landlord and the towel collector don't worry you."
+
+"Not at all," says he. "Merely petty annoyances, thorns and pebbles in
+the pathways that lead to each high emprise."
+
+Say, it was almost like hearin' some one read po'try, listenin' to
+Tutwater talk; didn't mean much of anything, and sounded kind of good. At
+the end of half an hour I didn't know any more about his game than at the
+beginning. I gathered, though, that up to date it hadn't produced any
+ready cash, and that Tutwater had been on his uppers for some time.
+
+He was no grafter, though. That dollar twenty-five weighed heavier on his
+mind than it did on mine. He'd come in and talk about not bein' able to
+pay it back real regretful, without even hintin' at another touch. And
+little by little I got more light on Tutwater, includin' some details of
+what he called his career.
+
+There was a lot to it, so far as variety went. He'd been a hist'ry
+professor in some one-horse Western college, had tried his luck once up
+at Nome, had canvassed for a patent dishwasher through Michigan, done a
+ballyhoo trick outside a travelin' tent show, and had given bump lectures
+on the schoolhouse circuit.
+
+But his prize stunt was when he broke into the real estate business and
+laid out Eucalyptus City. That was out in Iowa somewhere, and he'd have
+cleaned up a cool million in money if the blamed trolley company hadn't
+built their line seven miles off in the other direction.
+
+It was gettin' this raw deal that convinces him the seed district wa'n't
+any place for a gent of his abilities. So he sold out his options on the
+site of Eucalyptus to a brick makin' concern, and beat it for 42d-st.
+with a capital of eighty-nine dollars cash and this great director scheme
+in his head. The brass plate had cost him four dollars and fifty cents,
+one month's rent of the upstairs coop had set him back thirty more, and
+he'd been livin' on the rest.
+
+"But look here, Tutty," says I, "just what sort of enterprise do you
+think you can direct?"
+
+"Any sort," says he, "anything, from running an international exposition,
+to putting an icecream parlor on a paying basis."
+
+"Don't you find your modesty something of a handicap?" says I.
+
+"Oh, I'm modest enough," he goes on. "For instance, I don't claim to
+invent new methods. I just adapt, pick out lines of proved success, and
+develop. Now, your business here--why, I could take hold of it, and in
+six months' time I'd have you occupying this entire building, with
+classes on every floor, a solarium on the roof, a corps of assistants
+working day and night shifts, and----"
+
+"Yes," I breaks in, "and then the Sheriff tackin' a foreclosure notice on
+the front door. I know how them boom methods work out, Tutty."
+
+But talk like that don't discourage Tutwater at all. He hangs onto his
+great scheme, keepin' his eyes and ears open, writin' letters when he can
+scare up money for postage, and insistin' that sooner or later he'll get
+his chance.
+
+"Here is the place for such chances to occur," says he, "and I know what
+I can do."
+
+"All right," says I; "but if I was you I'd trail down some pavin' job
+before the paper inner soles wore clean through."
+
+Course, how soon he hit the bread line wa'n't any funeral of mine
+exactly, and he was a hopeless case anyway; but somehow I got to likin'
+Tutwater more or less, and wishin' there was some plan of applyin' all
+that hot air of his in useful ways. I know of lots of stiffs with not
+half his brains that makes enough to ride around in taxis and order
+custom made shirts. He was gettin' seedier every week, though, and I had
+it straight from the agent that it was only a question of a few days
+before that brass plate would have to come down.
+
+And then, one noon as we was chinnin' here in the front office, in blows
+a portly, red faced, stary eyed old party who seems kind of dazed and
+uncertain as to where he's goin'. He looks first at Tutwater, and then at
+me.
+
+"Same to you and many of 'em," says I. "What'll it be?"
+
+"McCabe was the name," says he; "Professor McCabe, I think. I had it
+written down somewhere; but----"
+
+"Never mind," says I. "This is the shop and I'm the right party. What
+then?"
+
+"Perhaps you don't know me?" says he, explorin' his vest pockets sort of
+aimless with his fingers.
+
+"That's another good guess," says I; "but there's lots of time ahead of
+us."
+
+"I--I am--well, never mind the name," says he, brushin' one hand over his
+eyes. "I--I've mislaid it."
+
+"Eh?" says I.
+
+"It's no matter," says he, beginnin' to ramble on again. "But I own a
+great deal of property in the city, and my head has been troubling me
+lately, and I heard you could help me. I'll pay you well, you know.
+I--I'll give you the Brooklyn Bridge."
+
+"Wha-a-at's that?" I gasps. "Say, couldn't you make it Madison Square
+Garden? I could get rent out of that."
+
+"Well, if you prefer," says he, without crackin' a smile.
+
+"And this is Mr. Tutwater," says I. "He ought to be in on this. What'll
+yours be, Tutty?"
+
+Say, for a minute or so I couldn't make out whether the old party was
+really off his chump or what. He's a well dressed, prosperous lookin'
+gent, a good deal on the retired broker type, and I didn't know but he
+might be some friend of Pyramid Gordon's who'd strayed in here to hand me
+a josh before signin' on for a course of lessons.
+
+Next thing we knew, though, he slumps down in my desk chair, leans back
+comf'table, sighs sort of contented, smiles a batty, foolish smile at us,
+and then closes his eyes. Another second and he's snorin' away as
+peaceful as you please.
+
+"Well, say!" says I to Tutwater. "What do you think of that, now? Does he
+take this for a free lodgin' house, or Central Park? Looks like it was up
+to me to ring for the wagon."
+
+"Don't," says Tutwater. "The police handle these cases so stupidly. His
+mind has been affected, possibly from some shock, and he is physically
+exhausted."
+
+"He's all in, sure enough," says I; "but I can't have him sawin' wood
+here. Come, come, old scout," I hollers in his ear, "you'll have to camp
+somewhere else for this act!" I might as well have shouted into the safe,
+though. He never stirs.
+
+"The thing to do," says Tutwater, "is to discover his name, if we can,
+and then communicate with his friends or family."
+
+"Maybe you're right, Tutwater," says I. "And there's a bunch of letters
+in his inside pocket. Have a look."
+
+"They all seem to be addressed to J. T. Fargo, Esq.," says Tutwater.
+
+"What!" says I. "Say, you don't suppose our sleepin' friend here is old
+Jerry Fargo, do you? Look at the tailor's label inside the pocket. Eh?
+Jeremiah T. Fargo! Well, say, Tutty, that wa'n't such an idle dream of
+his, about givin' me the garden. Guess he could if he wanted to. Why,
+this old party owns more business blocks in this town than anybody I know
+of except the Astors. And I was for havin' him carted off to the station!
+Lemme see that 'phone directory."
+
+A minute more and I had the Fargo house on the wire.
+
+"Who are you?" says I. "Oh, Mr. Fargo's butler. Well, this is Shorty
+McCabe, and I want to talk to some of the fam'ly about the old man. Sure,
+old Jerry. He's here. Eh, his sister? She'll do. Yes, I'll hold the
+wire."
+
+I'd heard of that old maid sister of his, and how she was a queer old
+girl; but I didn't have any idea what a cold blooded proposition she was.
+Honest, she seemed put out and pettish because I'd called her up.
+
+"Jeremiah again, hey?" she squeaks. "Now, why on earth don't he stay in
+that sanatorium where I took him? This is the fourth time he's gone
+wandering off, and I've been sent for to hunt him up. You just tell him
+to trot back to it, that's all."
+
+"But see here, Miss Fargo," says I, "he's been trottin' around until you
+can't tell him anything! He's snoozin' away here in my office, dead to
+the world."
+
+"Well, I can't help it," says she. "I'm not going to be bothered with
+Jeremiah to-day. I've got two sick cats to attend to."
+
+"Cats!" says I. "Say, what do you----"
+
+"Oh, hush up!" says she. "Do anything you like with him!" And hanged if
+she don't bang up the receiver at that, and leave me standin' there at my
+end of the wire lookin' silly.
+
+"Talk about your freak plutes," says I to Tutwater, after I've explained
+the situation, "if this ain't the limit! Look what I've got on my hands
+now!"
+
+Tutwater, he's standin' there gazin' hard at old Jerry Fargo, his eyes
+shinin' and his thought works goin' at high pressure speed. All of a
+sudden he slaps me on the back and grips me by the hand. "Professor,"
+says he, "I have it! There is Opportunity!"
+
+"Eh?" says I. "Old Jerry? How?"
+
+"I shall cure him--restore his mind, make him normal," says Tutwater.
+
+"What do you know about brushin' out batty lofts?" says I.
+
+"Nothing at all," says he; "but I can find someone who does. You'll give
+me Fargo, won't you?"
+
+"Will I?" says I. "I'll advance you twenty to take him away, and charge
+it up to him. But what'll you do with him?"
+
+"Start the Tutwater Sanatorium for Deranged Millionaires," says he.
+"There's a fortune in it. May I leave him here for an hour or so?"
+
+"What for?" says I.
+
+"Until I can engage my chief of staff," says he.
+
+"Say, Tutty," says I, "do you really mean to put over a bluff the size of
+that?"
+
+"I've thought it all out," says he. "I can do it."
+
+"All right, blaze ahead," says I; "but I'm bettin' you land in the lockup
+inside of twenty-four hours."
+
+What do you think, though? By three o'clock he comes back, towin' a
+spruce, keen eyed young chap that he introduces as Dr. McWade. He's
+picked him up over at Bellevue, where he found him doin' practice work in
+the psychopathic ward. On the strength of that I doubles my grubstake,
+and he no sooner gets his hands on the two sawbucks than he starts for
+the street.
+
+"Here, here!" says I. "Where you headed for now?"
+
+And Tutwater explains how his first investment is to be a new silk lid,
+some patent leather shoes, and a silver headed walkin' stick.
+
+"Good business!" says I. "You'll need all the front you can carry."
+
+And while he's out shoppin' the Doc and me and Swifty Joe lugs the
+patient up to Tutwater's office without disturbin' his slumbers at all.
+
+Well, I didn't see much more of Tutwater that day, for from then on he
+was a mighty busy man; but as I was drillin' across to the Grand Central
+on my way home I gets a glimpse of him, sportin' a shiny hat and white
+spats, just rushin' important into a swell real estate office. About noon
+next day he stops in long enough to shake hands and say that it's all
+settled.
+
+"Tutwater Sanatorium is a fact," says he. "I have the lease in my
+pocket."
+
+"What is it, some abandoned farm up in Vermont?" says I.
+
+"Hardly," says Tutwater, smilin' quiet.
+
+"It's Cragswoods; beautiful modern buildings, formerly occupied as a
+boys' boarding school, fifteen acres of lovely grounds, finest location
+in Westchester County. We take possession to-day, with our patient."
+
+"But, say, Tutwater," says I, "how in blazes did you----"
+
+"I produced Fargo," says he. "Dr. McWade has him under complete control
+and his cure has already begun. It will be finished at Cragswoods. Run up
+and see us soon. There's the address. So long."
+
+Well, even after that, I couldn't believe he'd really pull it off.
+Course, I knew he could make Fargo's name go a long ways if he used it
+judicious; but to launch out and hire an estate worth half a million--why
+he was makin' a shoestring start look like a sure thing.
+
+And I was still listenin' for news of the grand crash, when I begun
+seein' these items in the papers about the Tutwater Sanatorium.
+"Millionaires Building a Stone Wall," one was headed, and it went on to
+tell how five New York plutes, all sufferin' from some nerve breakdown,
+was gettin' back health and clearin' up their brains by workin' like day
+laborers under the direction of the famous specialist, Dr. Clinton
+McWade.
+
+"Aha!" says I. "He's added a press agent to the staff, and he sure has
+got a bird!"
+
+Every few days there's a new story bobs up, better than the last, until I
+can't stand it any longer. I takes half a day off and goes up there to
+see if he's actually doin' it. And, say, when I walks into the main
+office over the Persian rug, there's the same old Tutwater. Course, he's
+slicked up some fancy, and he's smokin' a good cigar; but you couldn't
+improve any on the cheerful countenance he used to carry around, even
+when he was up against it hardest. What I asks to see first is the five
+millionaires at work.
+
+"Seven, you mean," says Tutwater. "Two more came yesterday. Step right
+out this way. There they are, seven; count 'em, seven. The eighth man is
+a practical stone mason who is bossing the job. It's a good stone wall
+they're building, too. We expect to run it along our entire frontage."
+
+"Got 'em mesmerized?" says I.
+
+"Not at all," says Tutwater. "It's part of the treatment. McWade's idea,
+you know. The vocational cure, we call it, and it works like a charm. Mr.
+Fargo is practically a well man now and could return to his home next
+week if he wished. As it is, he's so much interested in finishing that
+first section of the wall that he will probably stay the month out. You
+can see for yourself what they are doing."
+
+"Well, well!" says I. "Seven of 'em! What I don't understand, Tutwater,
+is how you got so many patients so soon. Where'd you get hold of 'em?"
+
+"To be quite frank with you, McCabe," says Tutwater, whisperin'
+confidential in my ear, "only three of them are genuine paying patients.
+That is why I have to charge them fifty dollars a day, you see."
+
+"And the others?" says I.
+
+"First class imitations, who are playing their parts very cleverly," says
+he. "Why not? I engaged them through a reliable theatrical agency."
+
+"Eh?" says I. "You salted the sanatorium? Tutwater, I take it all back.
+You're in the other class, and I'm backin' you after this for whatever
+entry you want to make."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+HOW HERMY PUT IT OVER
+
+
+What do you know about luck, eh? Say, there was a time when I banked
+heavy on such things as four-leaf clovers, and the humpback touch, and
+dodgin' ladders, and keepin' my fingers crossed after gettin' an X-ray
+stare. The longer I watch the game, though, the less I think of the luck
+proposition as a chart for explainin' why some gets in on the ground
+floor, while others are dropped through the coal chute.
+
+Now look at the latest returns on the career of my old grammar school
+chum, Snick Butters. Maybe you don't remember my mentionin' him before.
+Yes? No? It don't matter. He's the sporty young gent that's mortgaged his
+memorial window to me so many times,--you know, the phony lamp he can do
+such stunts with.
+
+He's a smooth boy, Snick is,--too smooth, I used to tell him,--and always
+full of schemes for avoidin' real work. For a year or so past he's held
+the hot air chair on the front end of one of these sightseein' chariots,
+cheerin' the out of town buyers and wheat belt tourists with the flippest
+line of skyscraper statistics handed out through any megaphone in town.
+They tell me that when Snick would fix his fake eye on the sidewalk, and
+roll the good one up at the Metropolitan tower, he'd have his passengers
+so dizzy they'd grab one another to keep from fallin' off the wagon.
+
+Yes, I always did find Snick's comp'ny entertainin', and if it hadn't
+been more or less expensive,--a visit always meanin' a touch with him,--I
+expect I'd been better posted on what he was up to. As it is, I ain't
+enjoyed the luxury of seein' Snick for a good many months; when here the
+other afternoon, just as I was thinking of startin' for home, the studio
+door opens, and in blows a couple of gents, one being a stranger, and the
+other this Mr. Butters.
+
+Now, usually Snick's a fancy dresser, no matter who he owes for it. He'll
+quit eatin' any time, or do the camel act, or even give up his
+cigarettes; but if the gents' furnishing shops are showin' something new
+in the line of violet socks or alligator skin vests, Snick's got to sport
+the first ones sprung on Broadway.
+
+So, seein' him show up with fringes on his cuffs, a pair of runover tan
+shoes, and wearin' his uniform cap off duty, I can't help feelin' some
+shocked, or wonderin' how much more'n a five-spot I'll be out by the time
+he leaves. It was some relief, though, to see that the glass eye was
+still in place, and know I wouldn't be called on to redeem the ticket on
+that, anyway.
+
+"Hello, Snick!" says I. "Glad you came in,--I was just going. Hope you
+don't mind my lockin' the safe? No offense, you know."
+
+"Can it, Shorty," says he. "There's no brace coming this time."
+
+"Eh?" says I. "Once more with that last, and say it slower, so I can let
+it sink in."
+
+"Don't kid," says he. "This is straight business."
+
+"Oh!" says I. "Well, that does sound serious. In that case, who's
+your--er----Did he come in with you?"
+
+I thought he did at first; but he seems so little int'rested in either
+Snick or me that I wa'n't sure but he just wandered in because he saw the
+door open. He's a high, well built, fairly good lookin' chap, dressed
+neat and quiet in black; and if it wa'n't for the sort of aimless,
+wanderin' look in his eyes, you might have suspected he was somebody in
+partic'lar.
+
+"Oh, him!" says Snick, shootin' a careless glance over his shoulder.
+"Yes, of course he's with me. It's him I want to talk to you about."
+
+"Well," says I, "don't he--er----Is it a dummy, or a live one? Got a
+name, ain't it?"
+
+"Why, sure!" says Snick. "That's Hermy. Hey you, Hermy, shake hands with
+Professor McCabe!"
+
+"Howdy," says I, makin' ready to pass the grip. But Hermy ain't in a
+sociable mood, it seems.
+
+"Oh, bother!" says he, lookin' around kind of disgusted and not noticin'
+the welcomin' hand at all. "I don't want to stay here. I ought to be
+home, dressing for dinner."
+
+And say, that gives you about as much idea of the way he said it, as
+you'd get of an oil paintin' from seein' a blueprint. I can't put in the
+pettish shoulder wiggle that goes with it, or make my voice behave like
+his did. It was the most ladylike voice I ever heard come from a
+heavyweight; one of these reg'lar "Oh-fudge-Lizzie-I-dropped-my-gum"
+voices. And him with a chest on him like a swell front mahog'ny bureau!
+
+"Splash!" says I. "You mean, mean thing! So there!"
+
+"Don't mind what he says at all, Shorty," says Snick. "You wait! I'll fix
+him!" and with that he walks up to Hermy, shakes his finger under his
+nose, and proceeds to lay him out. "Now what did I tell you; eh, Hermy?"
+says Snick. "One lump of sugar in your tea--no pie--and locked in your
+room at eight-thirty. Oh, I mean it! You're here to behave yourself.
+Understand? Take your fingers off that necktie! Don't slouch against the
+wall there, either! You might get your coat dusty. Dress for dinner!
+Didn't I wait fifteen minutes while you fussed with your hair? And do you
+think you're going to go through all that again? You're dressed for
+dinner, I tell you! But you don't get a bit unless you do as you're told!
+Hear?"
+
+"Ye-e-es, sir," sniffles Hermy.
+
+Honest, it was a little the oddest exhibition I ever saw. Why, he would
+make two of Snick, this Hermy would, and he has a pair of shoulders like
+a truck horse. Don't ever talk to me about chins again, either! Hermy has
+chin enough for a trust buster; but that's all the good it seems to do
+him.
+
+"You ain't cast the hypnotic spell over him, have you, Snick?" says I.
+
+"Hypnotic nothing!" says Snick. "That ain't a man; it's only a music
+box!"
+
+"A which?" says I.
+
+"Barytone," says Snick. "Say, did you ever hear Bonci or Caruso or any of
+that mob warble? No? Well, then I'll have to tell you. Look at Hermy
+there. Take a good long gaze at him. And--sh-h-h! After he's had one show
+at the Metropolitan he'll have that whole bunch carryin' spears."
+
+"Is this something you dreamed, Snick," says I, "or is it a sample of
+your megaphone talk?"
+
+"You don't believe it, of course," says he. "That's what I brought him up
+here for. Hermy, turn on the Toreador business!"
+
+"Eh?" says I; then I sees Hermy gettin' into position to cut loose. "Back
+up there! Shut it off! What do I know about judgin' singers on the hoof?
+Why, he might be all you say, or as bad as I'd be willin' to bet; but I
+wouldn't know it. And what odds does it make to me, one way or another?"
+
+"I know, Shorty," says Snick, earnest and pleadin'; "but you're my last
+hope. I've simply got to convince you."
+
+"Sorry, Snick," says I; "but this ain't my day for tryin' out barytones.
+Besides, I got to catch a train."
+
+"All right," says Snick. "Then we'll trot along with you while I tell you
+about Hermy. Honest, Shorty, you've got to hear it!"
+
+"If it's as desperate as all that," says I, "spiel away."
+
+And of all the plunges I ever knew Snick Butters to make,--and he sure is
+the dead gamest sport I ever ran across,--this one that he owns up to
+takin' on Hermy had all his past performances put in the piker class.
+
+Accordin' to the way he deals it out, Snick had first discovered Hermy
+about a year ago, found him doin' the tray balancin' act in a porcelain
+lined three-off-and-draw-one parlor down on Seventh-ave. He was doin' it
+bad, too,--gettin' the orders mixed, and spillin' soup on the customers,
+and passin' out wrong checks, and havin' the boss worked up to the
+assassination point.
+
+But Hermy didn't even know enough to be discouraged. He kept right on
+singsongin' out his orders down the shaft, as cheerful as you please:
+"Sausage and mashed, two on the wheats, one piece of punk, and two mince,
+and let 'em come in a hurry! Silver!" You know how they do it in them C.
+B. & Q. places? Yes, corned beef and cabbage joints. With sixty or
+seventy people in a forty by twenty-five room, and the dish washers
+slammin' crockery regardless, you got to holler out if you want the chef
+to hear. Hermy wa'n't much on the shout, so he sang his orders. And it
+was this that gave Snick his pipedream.
+
+"Now you know I've done more or less tra-la-la-work myself," says he,
+"and the season I spent on the road as one of the merry villagers with an
+Erminie outfit put me wise to a few things. Course, this open air
+lecturing has spoiled my pipes for fair; but I've got my ear left,
+haven't I? And say, Shorty, the minute I heard that voice of Hermy's I
+knew he was the goods."
+
+So what does he do but go back later, after the noon rush was over, and
+get Hermy to tell him the story of his life. It wa'n't what you'd call
+thrillin'. All there was to it was that Hermy was a double orphan who'd
+been brought up in Bridgeport, Conn., by an uncle who was a dancin'
+professor. The only thing that saved Hermy from a bench in the brass
+works was his knack for poundin' out twosteps and waltzes on the piano;
+but at that it seems he was such a soft head he couldn't keep from
+watchin' the girls on the floor and striking wrong notes. Then there was
+trouble with uncle. Snick didn't get the full details of the row, or what
+brought it to a head; but anyway Hermy was fired from the academy and
+fin'lly drifted to New York, where he'd been close up against the bread
+line ever since.
+
+"And when I found how he just naturally ate up music," says Snick, "and
+how he'd had some training in a boy choir, and what a range he had, I
+says to him, 'Hermy,' says I, 'you come with me!' First I blows in ten
+good hard dollars getting a lawyer to draw up a contract. I thought it
+all out by myself; but I wanted the whereases put in right. And it's a
+peach. It bound me to find board and lodging and provide clothes and
+incidentals for Hermy for the period of one year; and in consideration of
+which, and all that, I am to be the manager and sole business
+representative of said Hermy for the term of fifteen years from date,
+entitled to a fair and equal division of whatsoever profits, salary, or
+emoluments which may be received by the party of the second part, payable
+to me, my heirs, or assigns forever. And there I am, Shorty. I've done
+it! And I'm going to stay with it!"
+
+"What!" says I. "You don't mean to say you've invested a year's board and
+lodgin' and expenses in--in that?" and I gazes once more at this hundred
+and eighty-pound wrist slapper, who is standin' there in front of the
+mirror pattin' down a stray lock.
+
+"That's what I've done," says Snick, shovin' his hands in his pockets and
+lookin' at the exhibit like he was proud of it.
+
+"But how the--where in blazes did you get it?" says I.
+
+"Squeezed it out," says Snick; "out of myself, too. And you know me. I
+always was as good to myself as other folks would let me. But all that
+had to be changed. It come hard, I admit, and it cost more'n I figured
+on. Why, some of his voice culture lessons set me back ten a throw. Think
+of that! He's had 'em, though. And me? Well, I've lived on one meal a
+day. I've done a double trick: on the wagon day times, night cashier in a
+drug store from nine till two a.m. I've cut out theaters, cigarettes, and
+drinks. I've made my old clothes last over, and I've pinched the dimes
+and nickels so hard my thumbprints would look like treasury dies. But
+we've got the goods, Shorty. Hermy may be the mushiest, sappiest, hen
+brained specimen of a man you ever saw; but when it comes to being a high
+class grand opera barytone, he's the kid! And little Percival here is his
+manager and has the power of attorney that will fix him for keeps if I
+know anything!"
+
+"Ye-e-es?" says I. "Reminds me some of the time when you was backin'
+Doughnut to win the Suburban. Recollect how hard you scraped to get the
+two-fifty you put down on Doughnut at thirty to one, and how hard you
+begged me to jump in and pull out a bale of easy money? Let's see; did
+the skate finish tenth, or did he fall through the hole in his name?"
+
+"Ah, say!" says Snick. "Don't go digging that up now. That was sport.
+This is straight business, on the level, and I ain't asking you to put up
+a cent."
+
+"Well, what then?" says I.
+
+Would you guess it? He wants me to book Hermy for a private exhibition
+before some of my swell friends! All I've got to do is to persuade some
+of 'em to give a little musicale, and then spring this nutmeg wonder on
+the box holdin' set without warnin'.
+
+"If he was a Russki with long hair," says I, "or even a fiddlin' Czech,
+they might stand for it; but to ask 'em to listen to a domestic unknown
+from Bridgeport, Conn.----I wouldn't have the nerve, Snick. Why not take
+him around to the concert agencies first?"
+
+"Bah!" says Snick. "Haven't we worn out the settees in the agency
+offices? What do they know about good barytone voices? All they judge by
+is press clippings and lists of past engagements. Now, your people would
+know. He'd have 'em going in two minutes, and they'd spread the news
+afterwards. Then we'd have the agents coming to us. See?"
+
+Course I couldn't help gettin' int'rested in this long shot of Snick's,
+even if I don't take any stock in his judgment; but I tries to explain
+that while I mix more or less with classy folks, I don't exactly keep
+their datebooks for 'em, or provide talent for their after dinner
+stunts.
+
+That don't head off Snick, though. He says I'm the only link between him
+and the set he wants to reach, and he just can't take no for an answer.
+He says he'll depend on me for a date for next Wednesday night.
+
+"Why Wednesday?" says I. "Wouldn't Thursday or Friday do as well?"
+
+"No," says he. "That's Frenchy's only night off from the café, and it's
+his dress suit Hermy's got to wear. It'll be some tight across the back;
+but it's the biggest one I can get the loan of without paying rent."
+
+Well, I tells Snick I'll see what can be done, and when I gets home I
+puts the problem up to Sadie. Maybe if she'd had a look at Hermy she'd
+taken more interest; but as it is she says she don't see how I can afford
+to run the chances of handin' out a lemon, even if there was an op'nin'.
+Then again, so many of our friends were at Palm Beach just now, and those
+who'd come back were so busy givin' Lent bridge parties, that the chances
+of workin' in a dark horse barytone was mighty slim. She'd think it over,
+though, and see if maybe something can't be done.
+
+So that's the best I can give Snick when he shows up in the mornin', and
+it was the same every day that week. I was kind of sorry for Snick, and
+was almost on the point of luggin' him and his discovery out to the house
+and askin' in a few of the neighbors, when Sadie tells me that the
+Purdy-Pells are back from Florida and are goin' to open their town house
+with some kind of happy jinks Wednesday night, and that we're invited.
+
+Course, that knocks out my scheme. I'd passed the sad news on to Snick;
+and it was near noon Wednesday, when I'm called up on the 'phone by
+Sadie. Seems that Mrs. Purdy-Pell had signed a lady harpist and a refined
+monologue artist to fill in the gap between coffee and bridge, and the
+lady harper had scratched her entry on account of a bad case of grip. So
+couldn't I find my friend Mr. Butters and get him to produce his singer?
+The case had been stated to Mrs. Purdy-Pell, and she was willin' to take
+the risk.
+
+"All right," says I. "But it's all up to her, don't you forget."
+
+With that I chases down to Madison Square, catches Snick just startin'
+out with a load of neck stretchers, gives him the number, and tells him
+to show up prompt at nine-thirty. And I wish you could have seen the joy
+that spread over his homely face. Even the store eye seemed to be
+sparklin' brighter'n ever.
+
+Was he there? Why, as we goes in to dinner at eight o'clock, I catches
+sight of him and Hermy holdin' down chairs in the reception room. Well,
+you know how they pull off them affairs. After they've stowed away about
+eleventeen courses, from grapefruit and sherry to demitasse and
+benedictine, them that can leave the table without wheel chairs wanders
+out into the front rooms, and the men light up fresh perfectos and hunt
+for the smokin' den, and the women get together in bunches and exchange
+polite knocks. And in the midst of all that some one drifts casually up
+to the concert grand and cuts loose. That was about the programme in this
+case.
+
+Hermy was all primed for his cue, and when Mrs. Purdy-Pell gives the nod
+I sees Snick push him through the door, and in another minute the thing
+is on. The waiter's uniform was a tight fit, all right; for it stretches
+across his shoulders like a drumhead. And the shirt studs wa'n't mates,
+and the collar was one of them saw edged laundry veterans. But the
+general effect was good, and Hermy don't seem to mind them trifles at
+all. He stands up there lookin' big and handsome, simpers and smiles
+around the room a few times, giggles a few at the young lady who'd
+volunteered to do the ivory punishing, and then fin'lly he gets under way
+with the Toreador song.
+
+As I say, when it comes to gems from Carmen, I'm no judge; but this stab
+of Hermy's strikes me from the start as a mighty good attempt. He makes a
+smooth, easy get-away, and he strikes a swingin', steady gait at the
+quarter, and when he comes to puttin' over the deep, rollin' chest notes
+I has feelin's down under the first dinner layer like I'd swallowed a
+small thunder storm. Honest, when he fairly got down to business and
+hittin' it up in earnest, he had me on my toes, and by the look on
+Sadie's face I knew that our friend Hermy was going some.
+
+But was all the others standin' around with their mouths open, drinkin'
+it in? Anything but! You see, some late comers had arrived, and they'd
+brought bulletins of something rich and juicy that had just happened in
+the alimony crowd,--I expect the event will figure on the court calendars
+later,--and they're so busy passin' on the details to willin' ears, that
+Hermy wa'n't disturbin' 'em at all. As a matter of fact, not one in ten
+of the bunch knew whether he was makin' a noise like a bullfighter or a
+line-up man.
+
+I can't help takin' a squint around at Snick, who's peekin' in through
+the draperies. And say, he's all but tearin' his hair. It was tough, when
+you come to think of it. Here he'd put his whole stack of blues on this
+performance, and the audience wa'n't payin' any more attention to it than
+to the rattle of cabs on the avenue.
+
+Hermy has most got to the final spasm, and it's about all over, when, as
+a last straw, some sort of disturbance breaks out in the front hall.
+First off I thought it must be Snick Butters throwin' a fit; but then I
+hears a voice that ain't his, and as I glances out I sees the Purdy-Pell
+butler havin' a rough house argument with a black whiskered gent in
+evenin' clothes and a Paris model silk lid. Course, everyone hears the
+rumpus, and there's a grand rush, some to get away, and others to see
+what's doin'.
+
+"Let me in! I demand entrance! It must be!" howls the gent, while the
+butler tries to tell him he's got to give up his card first.
+
+And next thing I know Snick has lit on the butler's back to pull him off,
+and the three are havin' a fine mix-up, when Mr. Purdy-Pell comes boltin'
+out, and I've just offered to bounce any of 'em that he'll point out,
+when all of a sudden he recognizes the party behind the brunette
+lambrequins.
+
+"Why--why," says he, "what does this mean, Mr. ----"
+
+"Pardon," says the gent, puffin' and pushin' to the front. "I intrude,
+yes? A thousand pardons. But I will explain. Next door I am dining--there
+is a window open--I hear that wonderful voice. Ah! that marvelous voice!
+Of what is the name of this artist? Yes? I demand! I implore! Ah, I must
+know instantly, sir!"
+
+Well, you know who it was. There's only one grand opera Napoleon with
+black whiskers who does things in that way, and makes good every trip.
+It's him, all right. And if he don't know a barytone voice, who does?
+
+Inside of four minutes him and Hermy and Snick was bunched around the
+libr'y table, chewin' over the terms of the contract, and next season
+you'll read the name of a new soloist in letters four foot high.
+
+Say, I was up to see Mr. Butters in his new suite of rooms at the St.
+Swithin, where it never rains but it pours. He'd held out for a big
+advance, and he'd got it. Also he'd invested part of it in some of the
+giddiest raiment them theatrical clothing houses can supply. While a
+manicure was busy puttin' a gloss finish on his nails, he has his
+Mongolian valet display the rest of his wardrobe, as far as he'd laid it
+in.
+
+"Did I get let in wrong on the Hermy proposition, eh?" says he. "How
+about stayin' with your luck till it turns? Any reminder of the Doughnut
+incident in this? What?"
+
+Do I debate the subject? Not me! I just slaps Snick on the back and
+wishes him joy. If he wants to credit it all up to a rabbit's foot, or a
+clover leaf, I'm willin' to let him. But say, from where I stand, it
+looks to me as if nerve and grit played some part in it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+JOY RIDING WITH AUNTY
+
+
+Was I? Then I must have been thinking of Dyke Mallory. And say, I don't
+know how you feel about it, but I figure that anybody who can supply me
+with a hang-over grin good for three days ain't lived in vain. Whatever
+it's worth, I'm on his books for just that much.
+
+I'll admit, too, that this Dyckman chap ain't apt to get many credits by
+the sweat of his brow or the fag of his brain. There's plenty of folks
+would class him as so much plain nuisance, and I have it from him that
+his own fam'ly puts it even stronger. That's one of his specialties,
+confidin' to strangers how unpop'lar he is at home. Why, he hadn't been
+to the studio more'n twice, and I'd just got next to the fact that he was
+a son of Mr. Craig Mallory, and was suggestin' a quarterly account for
+him, when he gives me the warnin' signal.
+
+"Don't!" says he. "I draw my allowance the fifteenth, and unless you get
+it away from me before the twentieth you might as well tear up the bill.
+No use sending it to the pater, either. He'd renig."
+
+"Handing you a few practical hints along the economy line, eh?" says I.
+
+"Worse than that," says Dyke. "It's a part of my penance for being the
+Great Disappointment. The whole family is down on me. Guess you don't
+know about my Aunt Elvira?"
+
+I didn't, and there was no special reason why I should; but before I can
+throw the switch Dyke has got the deputy sheriff grip on the Mallorys'
+private skeleton and is holdin' him up and explainin' his anatomy.
+
+Now, from all I'd ever seen or heard, I'd always supposed Mr. Craig
+Mallory to be one of the safety vault crowd. Course, they live at Number
+4 West; but that's near enough to the avenue for one of the old fam'lies.
+And when you find a man who puts in his time as chairman of regatta
+committees, and judgin' hackneys, and actin' as vice president of a swell
+club, you're apt to rate him in the seven figure bunch, at least.
+Accordin' to Duke, though, the Mallory income needed as much stretchin'
+as the pay of a twenty-dollar clothing clerk tryin' to live in a
+thirty-five dollar flat. And this is the burg where you can be as hard up
+on fifty thousand a year as on five hundred!
+
+The one thing the Mallorys had to look forward to was the time when Aunt
+Elvira would trade her sealskin sack for a robe of glory and loosen up on
+her real estate. She was near seventy, Aunty was, and when she first went
+out to live at the old country place, up beyond Fort George, it was a
+good half-day's trip down to 23d-st. But she went right on livin', and
+New York kept right on growin', and now she owns a cow pasture two blocks
+from a subway station, and raises potatoes on land worth a thousand
+dollars a front foot.
+
+Bein' of different tastes and habits, her and Brother Craig never got
+along together very well, and there was years when each of 'em tried to
+forget that the other existed. When little Dyckman came, though, the
+frost was melted. She hadn't paid any attention to the girls; but a boy
+was diff'rent. Never havin' had a son of her own to boss around and brag
+about, she took it out on Dyke. A nice, pious old lady, Aunt Elvira was;
+and the mere fact that little Dyke seemed to fancy the taste of a morocco
+covered New Testament she presented to him on his third birthday settled
+his future in her mind.
+
+"He shall be a Bishop!" says she, and hints that accordin' as Dyckman
+shows progress along that line she intends loadin' him up with worldly
+goods.
+
+Up to the age of fifteen, Dyke gives a fair imitation of a Bishop in the
+bud. He's a light haired, pleasant spoken youth, who stands well with his
+Sunday school teacher and repeats passages from the Psalms for Aunt
+Elvira when she comes down to inflict her annual visit.
+
+But from then on the bulletins wa'n't so favor'ble. At the diff'rent
+prep. schools where he was tried out he appeared to be too much of a live
+one to make much headway with the dead languages. About the only subjects
+he led his class in was hazing and football and buildin' bonfires of the
+school furniture. Being expelled got to be so common with him that
+towards the last he didn't stop to unpack his trunk.
+
+Not that these harrowin' details was passed on to Aunt Elvira. The
+Mallorys begun by doctorin' the returns, and they developed into reg'lar
+experts at the game of representin' to Aunty what a sainted little fellow
+Dyke was growin' to be. The more practice they got, the harder their
+imaginations was worked; for by the time Dyckman was strugglin' through
+his last year at college he'd got to be such a full blown hickey boy that
+he'd have been spotted for a sport in a blind asylum.
+
+So they had to invent one excuse after another to keep Aunt Elvira from
+seein' him, all the while givin' her tales about how he was soon to break
+into the divinity school; hoping, of course, that Aunty would get tired
+of waitin' and begin to unbelt.
+
+"They overdid it, that's all," says Dyke. "Healthy looking Bishop I'd
+make! What?"
+
+"You ain't got just the style for a right reverend, that's a fact," says
+I.
+
+Which wa'n't any wild statement of the case, either. He's a tall, loose
+jointed, slope shouldered young gent, with a long, narrow face, gen'rally
+ornamented by a cigarette; and he has his straw colored hair cut plush.
+His costume is neat but expensive,--double reefed trousers, wide soled
+shoes, and a green yodler's hat with the bow on behind. He talks with the
+kind of English accent they pick up at New Haven, and when he's in repose
+he tries to let on he's so bored with life that he's in danger of fallin'
+asleep any minute.
+
+Judgin' from Dyke's past performances, though, there wa'n't many
+somnolent hours in it. But in spite of all the trouble he'd got into, I
+couldn't figure him out as anything more'n playful. Course, rough housin'
+in rathskellers until they called out the reserves, and turnin' the fire
+hose on a vaudeville artist from a box, and runnin' wild with a captured
+trolley car wa'n't what you might call innocent boyishness; but, after
+all, there wa'n't anything real vicious about Dyke.
+
+Playful states it. Give him a high powered tourin' car, with a bunch of
+eight or nine from the football squad aboard, and he liked to tear around
+the State of Connecticut burnin' the midnight gasolene and lullin' the
+villagers to sleep with the Boula-Boula song. Perfectly harmless fun--if
+the highways was kept clear. All the frat crowd said he was a good
+fellow, and it was a shame to bar him out from takin' a degree just on
+account of his layin' down on a few exams. But that's what the faculty
+did, and the folks at home was wild.
+
+Dyke had been back and on the unclassified list for nearly a year now,
+and the prospects of his breakin' into the divinity school was growin'
+worse every day. He'd jollied Mr. Mallory into lettin' him have a little
+two-cylinder roadster, and his only real pleasure in life was when he
+could load a few old grads on the runnin' board and go off for a joy
+ride.
+
+But after the old man had spent the cost of a new machine in police court
+fines and repairs, even this little diversion was yanked away. The last
+broken axle had done the business, and the nearest Dyke could come to
+real enjoyment was when he had the price to charter a pink taxi and
+inspire the chauffeur with highballs enough so he'd throw her wide open
+on the way back.
+
+Not bein' responsible for Dyke, I didn't mind having him around. I kind
+of enjoyed the cheerful way he had of tellin' about the fam'ly boycott on
+him, and every time I thinks of Aunt Elvira still havin' him framed up
+for a comer in the Bishop class, I has to smile.
+
+You see, having gone so far with their fairy tales, the Mallorys never
+got a chance to hedge; and, accordin' to Dyke, they was all scared stiff
+for fear she'd dig up the facts some day, and make a new will leavin' her
+rentroll to the foreign missions society.
+
+Maybe it was because I took more or less interest in him, but perhaps it
+was just because he wanted company and I happened to be handy; anyway,
+here the other afternoon Dyke comes poundin' up the stairs two at a time,
+rushes into the front office, and grabs me by the arm.
+
+"Come on, Shorty!" says he. "Something fruity is on the schedule."
+
+"Hope it don't taste like a lemon," says I. "What's the grand rush?"
+
+"Aunt Elvira is coming down, and she's called for me," says Dyke,
+grinnin' wide. "She must suspect something; for she sent word that if I
+wasn't on hand this time she'd never come again. What do you think of
+that?"
+
+"Aunty's got a treat in store for her, eh?" says I, givin' Dyke the
+wink.
+
+"I should gurgle!" says he. "I'm good and tired of this fake Bishop
+business, and if I don't jolt the old lady out of that nonsense, I'm a
+duffer. You can help some, I guess. Come on."
+
+Well, I didn't exactly like the idea of mixin' up with a fam'ly surprise
+party like that; but Dyke is so anxious for me to go along, and he gets
+me so curious to see what'll happen at the reunion, that I fin'lly grabs
+my coat and hat, and out we trails.
+
+It seems that Aunt Elvira is due at the Grand Central. Never having tried
+the subway, she's come to town just as she used to thirty years ago:
+drivin' to Kingsbridge station, and takin' a Harlem river local down. We
+finds the whole fam'ly, includin' Mr. and Mrs. Craig Mallory, and their
+two married daughters, waitin' outside the gates, with the gloom about
+'em so thick you'd almost think it was a sea turn.
+
+From the chilly looks they shot at Dyke you could tell just how they'd
+forecasted the result when Aunt Elvira got him all sized up; for, with
+his collar turned up and his green hat slouched, he looks as much like a
+divinity student as a bulldog looks like Mary's lamb. And they can almost
+see them blocks of apartment houses bein' handed over to the heathen.
+
+As for Mr. Craig Mallory, he never so much as gives his only son a second
+glance, but turns his back and stands there, twistin' the ends of his
+close cropped gray mustache, and tryin' to look like he wa'n't concerned
+at all. Good old sport, Craig,--one of the kind that can sit behind a
+pair of sevens and raise the opener out of his socks. Lucky for his
+nerves he didn't have to wait long. Pretty soon in pulls the train, and
+the folks from Yonkers and Tarrytown begin to file past.
+
+[Illustration: "Most of Auntie was obscured by the luggage she carries"]
+
+"There she is!" whispers Dyke, givin' me the nudge. "That's Aunt Elvira,
+with her bonnet on one ear."
+
+It's one of the few black velvet lids of the 1869 model still in
+captivity, ornamented with a bunch of indigo tinted violets, and kept
+from bein' lost off altogether by purple strings tied under the chin.
+Most of the rest of Aunty was obscured by the hand luggage she carries,
+which includes four assorted parcels done up in wrappin' paper, and a
+big, brass wire cage holdin' a ragged lookin' gray parrot that was tryin'
+to stick his bill through the bars and sample the passersby.
+
+She's a wrinkled faced, but well colored and hearty lookin' old girl, and
+the eyes that peeks out under the rim of the velvet lid is as keen and
+shrewd as a squirrel's. Whatever else she might be, it was plain Aunt
+Elvira wa'n't feeble minded. Behind her comes a couple of station
+porters, one cartin' an old-time black valise, and the other with his
+arms wrapped around a full sized featherbed in a blue and white tick.
+
+"Gee!" says I. "Aunty carries her own scenery with her, don't she?"
+
+"That's Bismarck in the cage," says Dyke.
+
+"How Bizzy has changed!" says I. "But why the feather mattress?"
+
+"She won't sleep on anything else," says he. "Watch how pleased my
+sisters look. They just love this--not! But she insists on having the
+whole family here to meet her."
+
+I must say for Mr. Mallory that he stood it well, a heavy swell like him
+givin' the glad hand in public to a quaint old freak like that. But Aunt
+Elvira don't waste much time swappin' fam'ly greetin's.
+
+"Where is Dyckman?" says she, settin' her chin for trouble. "Isn't he
+here?"
+
+"Oh, yes," says Mr. Mallory. "Right over there," and he points his cane
+handle to where Dyke and me are grouped on the side lines.
+
+"Here, hold Bismarck!" says Aunty, jammin' the brass cage into Mr.
+Mallory's arm, and with that she pikes straight over to us. I never
+mistrusted she'd be in any doubt as to which was which, until I sees her
+look from one to the other, kind of waverin'. No wonder, though; for,
+from the descriptions she'd had, neither of us came up to the divinity
+student specifications. Yet it was something of a shock when she fixes
+them sharp old lamps on me and says:
+
+"Land to goodness! You?"
+
+"Reverse!" says I. "Here's the guilty party," and I pushes Dyke to the
+front.
+
+She don't gasp, or go up in the air, or throw any kind of a fit, like I
+expected. As she looks him over careful, from the sporty hat to the wide
+soled shoes, I notices her eyes twinkle.
+
+"Hum! I thought as much!" says she. "Craig always could lie easier than
+he could tell the truth. Young man, you don't look to me like a person
+called to hold orders."
+
+"Glad of it, Aunty," says Dyke, with a grin. "I don't feel that way."
+
+"And you don't look as if you had broken down your health studying for
+the ministry, either!" she goes on.
+
+"You don't mean to say they filled you up with that?" says Dyke.
+"Hee-haw!"
+
+"Huh!" says Aunty. "It's a joke, is it? At least you're not afraid to
+tell the truth. I guess I want to have a little private talk with you.
+Who's this other young man?"
+
+"This is Professor McCabe," says Dyke. "He's a friend of mine."
+
+"Let him come along, too," says Aunty. "Perhaps he can supply what you
+leave out."
+
+And, say, the old girl knew what she wanted and when she wanted it, all
+right! There was no bunkoin' her out of it, either. Mr. Mallory leads her
+out to his brougham and does his best to shoo her in with him and Mrs.
+Mallory and away from Dyke; but it was no go.
+
+"I will ride up with Dyckman and his friend," says she. "And I want to go
+in one of those new automobile cabs I've heard so much about."
+
+"Good! We'll get one, Aunty," says Dyke, and then he whispers in my ear,
+"Slip around the corner and call for Jerry Powers. Number 439. He can
+make a taxi take hurdles and water jumps."
+
+I don't know whether it was luck or not, but Jerry was on the stand with
+the tin flag up, and inside of two minutes the three of us was stowed
+away inside, with the bag on top, and Dyke holdin' Bismarck in his lap.
+
+"Now my featherbed," says Aunt Elvira, and she has the porter jam it in
+alongside of me, which makes more or less of a full house. Then the
+procession starts, our taxi in the lead, the brougham second, and the
+married sisters trailin' behind in a hansom.
+
+"My sakes! but these things do ride easy!" says Aunty, settlin' back in
+her corner. "Can they go any faster, Dyckman?"
+
+"Just wait until we get straightened out on the avenue," says Dyke, and
+tips me the roguish glance.
+
+"I've ridden behind some fast horses in my time," says the old lady; "so
+you can't scare me. But now, Dyckman, I'd like to know exactly what
+you've been doing, and what you intend to do."
+
+Well, Dyke starts in to unload the whole yarn, beginnin' by ownin' up
+that he'd scratched the Bishop proposition long ago. And he was statin'
+some of his troubles at college, when I gets a backward glimpse out of
+the side window at something that makes me sit up. First off I thought it
+was another snow storm with flakes bigger'n I'd ever seen before, and
+then I tumbles to the situation. It ain't snow; it's feathers. In jammin'
+that mattress into the taxi the tick must have had a hole ripped in it,
+and the part that was bulgin' through the opposite window was leakin' hen
+foliage to beat the cars.
+
+"Hey!" says I, buttin' in on the confession and pointin' back. "We're
+losin' part of our cargo."
+
+"Land sakes!" says Aunt Elvira, after one glance. "Stop! Stop!"
+
+At that Dyke pounds on the front glass for the driver to shut off the
+juice. But Jerry must have had Dyke out before, and maybe he mistook the
+signal. Anyway, the machine gives a groan and a jerk and we begins
+skimmin' along the asphalt at double speed. That don't check the moltin'
+process any, and Dyke was gettin' real excited, when we hears a chuckle
+from Aunt Elvira.
+
+The old girl has got her eyes trained through the back window. Thanks to
+our speed and the stiff wind that's blowin' down the avenue, the Mallory
+brougham, with the horses on the jump to keep up with us, is gettin' the
+full benefit of the feather storm. The dark green uniforms of the Mallory
+coachman and footman was being plastered thick, and they was both
+spittin' out feathers as fast as they could, and the Mallorys was wipin'
+'em out of their eyes and ears, and the crowds on the sidewalk has caught
+on and is enjoyin' the performance, and a mounted cop was starin' at us
+kind of puzzled, as if he was tryin' to decide whether or not we was
+breakin' an ordinance.
+
+"Look at Craig! Look at Mabel Ann!" snickers Aunt Elvira. "Tell your man
+to go faster, Dyckman. Push out more feathers!"
+
+"More feathers it is," says I, shovin' another fold of the bed through
+the window. Even Bismarck gets excited and starts squawkin'.
+
+Talk about your joy rides! I'll bet that's the only one of the kind ever
+pulled off on Fifth-ave. And it near tickles the old girl to death. What
+was a featherbed to her, when she had her sportin' blood up and was
+gettin' a hunch in on Brother Craig and his wife?
+
+We goes four blocks before we shakes out the last of our ammunition, and
+by that time the Mallory brougham looks like a poultry wagon after a busy
+day at the market, while Aunt Elvira has cut loose with the mirth so hard
+that the velvet bonnet is hangin' under her chin, and Bismarck is out of
+breath. It's a wonder we wa'n't pinched for breakin' the speed laws; but
+the traffic cops is so busy watchin' the feather blizzard that they
+forgets to hold us up. Dyke wants to know if I'll come in for a cup of
+tea, or ride back with Jerry.
+
+"Thanks, but I'll walk back," says I, as we pulls up at the house. "Guess
+I can find the trail easy enough, eh?"
+
+I s'posed I'd get a report of the reunion from him next day; but it
+wa'n't until this mornin' that he shows up here and drags me down to the
+curb to look at his new sixty-horse-power macadam burner.
+
+"Birthday present from Aunty," says he. "Say, she's all to the good,
+Shorty. She got over that Bishop idea months ago, all by herself. And
+what do you think? She says I'm to have a thousand a month, just to enjoy
+myself on. Whe-e-e! Can I do it?"
+
+"Do it, son," says I. "If you can't, I don't know who can."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+TURNING A TRICK FOR BEANY
+
+
+Where'd I collect the Flemish oak tint on muh noble br-r-r-ow? No, not
+sunnin' myself down to Coney Island. No such tinhorn stunt for me! This
+is the real plute color, this is, and I laid it on durin' a little bubble
+tour we'd been takin' through the breakfast doughnut zone.
+
+It was Pinckney's blow. He ain't had the gasolene-burnin' fever very hard
+until this summer; but when he does get it, he goes the limit, as usual.
+Course, he's been off on excursions with his friends, and occasionally
+he's chartered a machine by the day; but I'd never heard him talk of
+wantin' to own one. And then the first thing I knows he shows up at the
+house last Monday night in the tonneau of one of these big seven-seater
+road destroyers, all fitted out complete with spare shoes, hat box, and a
+double-decker trunk strapped on the rack behind.
+
+"Gee!" says I. "Why didn't you buy a private railroad train while you was
+about it, Pinckney?"
+
+"Precisely what I thought I was getting," says he. "However, I want you
+and Sadie to help me test it. We'll start to-morrow morning at
+nine-thirty. Be all ready, will you?"
+
+"Got any idea where you're going, or how long you'll be gone?" says I.
+
+"Nothing very definite," says he. "Purdy-Pell suggested the shore road to
+Boston and back through the Berkshires."
+
+"Fine!" says I. "I'd love to go meanderin' through the country with you
+from now until Christmas; but sad to say I've got one or two----"
+
+"Oh, Renée tells me we can make it in four days," says Pinckney, nodding
+at the chauffeur. "He's been over the route a dozen times."
+
+Well, I puts the proposition up to Sadie, expectin' she'd queer it first
+jump; but inside of ten minutes she'd planned out just how she could
+leave little Sully, and what she should wear, and it's all fixed. I tried
+to show her where I couldn't afford to quit the studio for two or three
+weeks, just at this time of year, when so many of my reg'lars need tunin'
+up after their vacations; but my arguments don't carry much weight.
+
+"Rubbish, Shorty!" says she. "We'll be back before the end of the week,
+and Swifty Joe can manage until then. Anyway, we're not going to miss
+this lovely weather. We're going, that's all!"
+
+"Well," says I to Pinckney, "I've decided to go."
+
+Now this ain't any lightnin' conductor rehash. Bubble tourin' has its
+good points, and it has its drawbacks, too. If you're willin' to take
+things as they come along, and you're travelin' with the right bunch, and
+your own disposition's fair to middlin', why, you can have a bang up
+time, just like you could anywhere with the same layout. Also, I'm
+willin' to risk an encore to this partic'lar trip any time I get the
+chance.
+
+But there was something else I was gettin' at. It don't turn up until
+along durin' the afternoon of our second day out. We was tearin' along
+one of them new tar roads between Narragansett Pier and Newport, and I
+was tryin' to hand a josh to Renée by askin' him to be sure and tell me
+when we went through Rhode Island, as I wanted to take a glance at
+it,--for we must have been hittin' fifty an hour, with the engine runnin'
+as smooth and sweet as a French clock,--when all of a sudden there's a
+bang like bustin' a paper bag, and we feels the car sag down on one
+side.
+
+"_Sacré!_" says Renée through his front teeth.
+
+"Ha, ha!" sings out Pinckney. "My first blow-out!"
+
+"Glad you feel so happy over it," says I.
+
+It's a sensation that don't bring much joy, as a rule. Here you are,
+skimmin' along through the country, glancin' at things sort of casual,
+same's you do from a Pullman window, but not takin' any int'rest in the
+scenery except in a general way, only wonderin' now and then how it is
+people happen to live in places so far away.
+
+And then all in a minute the scenery ain't movin' past you at all. It
+stops dead in its tracks, like when the film of a movin' picture machine
+gets tangled up, and there's only one partic'lar scene to look at. It's
+mighty curious, too, how quick that special spot loses its charm. Also,
+as a gen'ral rule, such things happen just at the wrong spot in the road.
+Now we'd been sailin' along over a ridge, where we could look out across
+Narragansett Bay for miles; but here where our tire had gone on the blink
+was a kind of dip down between the hills, with no view at all.
+
+First off we all has to pile out and get in Renée's way while he inspects
+the damage. It's a blow-out for fair, a hole big enough to lay your two
+hands in, right across the tread, where we'd picked up a broken bottle,
+or maybe a cast horseshoe with the nails in it. Then, while he proceeds
+to get busy with the jack and tire irons, we all makes up our minds to a
+good long wait; for when you tackle one of them big boys, with the rims
+rusted in, it ain't any fifteen-minute picnic, you know.
+
+Course, Pinckney gets out his fireless bottles and the glasses and
+improves the time by handin' around somethin' soothin' or cheerin',
+accordin' to taste. Not bein' thirsty, I begins inspectin' the contagious
+scenery. It wa'n't anything an artist would yearn to paint. Just back
+from the road is a sort of shack that looks as though someone might be
+campin' out in it, and behind that a mess of rough sheds and chicken
+coops.
+
+Next I discovers that the object down in the field which I'd taken for a
+scarecrow was a live man. By the motions he's goin' through, he's diggin'
+potatoes, and from the way he sticks to it, not payin' any attention to
+us, it seems as if he found it a mighty int'restin' pastime. You'd most
+think, livin' in an out of the way, forsaken place like that, that most
+any native would be glad to stop work long enough to look over a hot
+lookin' bunch like ours.
+
+This one don't seem inclined that way, though. He keeps his back bent and
+his head down and his hands busy. Now, whenever I've been out in a
+machine, and we've had any kind of trouble, there's always been a gawpin'
+committee standin' around, composed of every human being in sight at the
+time of the casualty, includin' a few that seemed to pop up out of the
+ground. But here's a case where the only party that can act as an
+audience ain't doin' his duty. So a fool freak hits me to stroll over and
+poke him up.
+
+"Hey, you!" says I, vaultin' the fence.
+
+He jerks his head up a little at that, kind of stares in my direction,
+and then dives into another hill of spuds.
+
+"Huh!" thinks I. "Don't want any city folks in his'n, by chowder! But
+here's where he gets 'em thrust on him!" and I pikes over for a closer
+view. Couldn't see much, though, but dirty overalls, blue outing shirt,
+and an old haymaker's straw hat with a brim that lops down around his
+face and ears.
+
+"Excuse me," says I; "but ain't you missin' a trick, or is it because you
+don't feel sociable to-day? How're the murphies pannin' out this
+season?"
+
+To see the start he gives, you'd think I'd crept up from behind and
+swatted him one. He straightens up, backs off a step or two, and opens
+his mouth. "Why--why----" says he, after one or two gasps. "Who are you,
+please?"
+
+"Me?" says I. "Oh, I'm just a stray stranger. I was being shot through
+your cunnin' little State on a no-stop schedule, when one of our tires
+went out of business. Hence this informal call."
+
+"But," says he, hesitatin' and pushin' back the hat brim, "isn't
+this--er--aren't you Professor McCabe?"
+
+Say, then it was my turn to do the open face act! Course, knockin' around
+as much as I have and rubbin' against so many diff'rent kinds of folks,
+I'm liable to run across people that know me anywhere; but blamed if I
+expected to do it just walkin' out accidental into a potato orchard.
+
+Sure enough, too, there was something familiar about that long thin nose
+and the droopy mouth corners; but I couldn't place him. Specially I'd
+been willin' to pass my oath I'd never known any party that owned such a
+scatterin' crop of bleached face herbage as he was sportin'. It looked
+like bunches of old hay on the side of a hill. The stary, faded out blue
+eyes wa'n't just like any I could remember, either, and I'm gen'rally
+strong on that point.
+
+"You've called my number, all right," says I; "but, as for returnin' the
+compliment, you've got me going, neighbor. How do you think I'm
+looking?"
+
+He makes a weak stab at springin' a smile, about the ghastliest attempt
+at that sort of thing I ever watched, and then he shrugs his shoulders.
+"I--I couldn't say about your looks," says he. "I recognized you by your
+voice. Perhaps you won't remember me at all. I'm Dexter Bean."
+
+"What!" says I. "Not Beany, that used to do architectin' on the top floor
+over the studio?"
+
+"Yes," says he.
+
+"And you've forgot my mug so soon?" says I.
+
+"Oh, no!" says he, speakin' up quick. "I haven't forgotten. But I can't
+see very well now, you know. In fact, I--I'm---- Well, it's almost night
+time with me, Shorty," and by the way he chokes up I can tell how hard it
+is for him to get out even that much.
+
+"You don't mean," says I, "that--that you----"
+
+He nods, puts his hands up to his face, and turns his head for a minute.
+
+Well, say, I've had lumps come in my throat once in a while before on
+some account or other; but I never felt so much like I'd swallowed a
+prize punkin as I did just then. Most night time! Course, you hear of
+lots of cases, and you know there's asylums where such people are taken
+care of and taught to weave cane bottoms for chairs; but I tell you when
+you get right up against such a case, a party you've known and liked, and
+it's handed to you sudden that he's almost in the stick tappin'
+class--well, it's apt to get you hard. I know it did me. Why, I didn't
+know any more what to do or say than a goat. But it was my next.
+
+"Well, well, Beany, old boy!" says I, slidin' an arm across his shoulder.
+"This is all news to me. Let's get over in the shade and talk this thing
+over."
+
+"I--I'd like to, Shorty," says he.
+
+So we camps down under a tree next to the fence, and he gives me the
+story. As he talks, too, it all comes back to me about the first time
+some of them boys from up stairs towed him down to the studio. He'd
+drifted in from some Down East crossroads, where he'd taken a course in
+mechanical drawin' and got the idea that he was an architect. And a
+greener Rube than him I never expect to see. It was a wonder some
+milliner hadn't grabbed him and sewed him on a hat before he got to
+42d-st.
+
+Maybe that gang of T Square sports didn't find him entertainin', too.
+Why, he swallowed all the moldy old bunk yarns they passed over, and when
+they couldn't hold in any longer, and just let loose the hee-haws, he
+took it good natured, springin' that kind of sad smile of his on 'em, and
+not even gettin' red around the ears. So the boss set him to sweepin' the
+floors and tendin' the blueprint frames on the roof.
+
+That's the way he broke in. Then a few months later, when they had a rush
+of contracts, they tried him out on some detail work. But his drawin' was
+too ragged. He was so good natured, though, and so willin' to do anything
+for anybody, that they kept him around, mainly to spring new gags on, so
+far as I could see.
+
+It wa'n't until he got at some house plans by accident that they found
+out where he fitted in. He'd go over a set of them puzzle rolls that mean
+as much to me as a laundry ticket, and he'd point out where there was
+room for another clothes closet off some chamber here, and a laundry
+chute there, and how the sink in the butler's pantry was on the wrong
+side for a right handed dish washer, and a lot of little details that
+nobody else would think of unless they'd lived in just such a house for
+six months or so. Beany the Home Expert, they called him after that, and
+before any house plans was O. K.'d by the boss he had to revise 'em.
+
+Then he got to hangin' round the studio after hours, helpin' Swifty Joe
+clean up and listenin' to his enlightenin' conversation. It takes a
+mighty talented listener to get Swifty started; but when he does get his
+tongue once limbered up, and is sure of his audience, he enjoys nothin'
+like givin' off his views in wholesale lots.
+
+As for me, I never said a whole lot to Beany, nor him to me; but I
+couldn't help growin' to like the cuss, because he was one of them
+gentle, quiet kind that you cotton to without knowin' exactly why. Not
+that I missed him a lot when he disappeared. Fact was, he just dropped
+out, and I don't know as I even asked what had become of him.
+
+I was hearin' now, though. It wa'n't any great tragedy, to start with.
+Some of the boys got skylarkin' one lunch hour, and Beany was watchin'
+'em, when a lead paper weight he was holdin' slipped out of his hand,
+struck the end of a ruler, and flipped it up into his face. A sharp
+corner hit him in the eye, that's all. He had the sore peeper bound up
+for three or four days before he took it to a hospital.
+
+When he didn't show up again they wondered some, and one of the firm
+inquired for him at his old boardin' place. You know how it is in town.
+There's so many comin' and goin' that it's hard to keep track of 'em all.
+So Beany just faded out.
+
+He told me that when the hospital doctor put it to him flat how bad off
+his bum lamp was, and how the other was due to go the same way, he just
+started out and walked aimless for two days and nights, hardly stoppin'.
+Then he steadied down, pulled himself together, and mapped out a plan.
+
+Besides architectin', all he knew how to do was to raise chickens. He
+figured that if he could get a little place off where land was cheap, and
+get the hang of it well in his head before his glim was doused
+altogether, he might worry along. He couldn't bear to think of goin' back
+to his old home, or hangin' around among strangers until he had to be
+herded into one of them big brick barracks. He wanted to be alone and
+outdoors.
+
+He had a few dollars with him that he'd saved up, and when he struck this
+little sand plot, miles from anywhere, he squat right down on it, built
+his shack, got some settin' hens, and prepared for a long siege in the
+dark. One eye was all to the bad already, and the other was beginnin' to
+grow dim. Nice cheerful proposition to wake up to every mornin', wa'n't
+it?
+
+Does Beany whine any in tellin' it, though? Never a whimper! Gets off his
+little jokes on himself about the breaks he makes cookin' his meals, such
+as sweetenin' his coffee out of the salt bag, and bitin' into a cake of
+bar soap, thinkin' it was a slice of the soggy bread he'd make. Keeps his
+courage up, too, by trying to think that maybe livin' outdoors and
+improvin' his health will help him get back his sight.
+
+"I'm sure I am some better already," says he. "For months all I could see
+out of my left eye was purple and yellow and blue rings. Now I don't see
+those at all."
+
+"That so?" says I, battin' my head for some come-back that would fit.
+"Why--er--I should think you'd miss 'em, Beany."
+
+Brilliant, wa'n't it? But Beany throws back his head and lets out the
+first real laugh he's indulged in for over a year.
+
+"No, hardly that," says he. "I don't care about carrying my rainbows
+around with me."
+
+"But look here, Beany," says I. "You can't stay here doin' the poultry
+hermit act."
+
+"It's the only thing I'm fit for," says he; "so I must."
+
+"Then you've got to let us send you a few things occasionally," says I.
+"I'll look up your old boss and----"
+
+"No, no!" says he. "I'm getting along all right. I've been a little
+lonesome; but I'll pull through."
+
+"You ought to be doin' some doctorin', though," says I.
+
+He shrugs his shoulders again and waves one hand. "What's the use?" says
+he. "They told me at the hospital there wasn't any help. No, I'll just
+stay here and plug it out by myself."
+
+Talk about clear grit, eh! And maybe you can frame up my feelin's when he
+insists there ain't a thing I can do for him. About then, too, I hears
+'em shoutin' from the car for me to come along, as they're all ready to
+start again. So all I does is swap grips with Beany, get off some fool
+speech about wishin' him luck, and leave him standin' there in the potato
+field.
+
+Somehow I didn't enjoy the rest of that day's run very much, and when
+they jollies me by askin' who's my scarecrow acquaintance I couldn't work
+myself up to tellin' 'em about him. But all I could think of was Beany
+back there pokin' around alone in the fog that was settlin' down thicker
+and thicker every day. And in the course of two or three hours I had a
+thought.
+
+"Pinckney," says I, as we was puttin' up in Newport, "you know all sorts
+of crackerjacks. Got any expert eye doctors on your list?"
+
+He chews that over a minute or so, and concludes that he has, a Dr. Jason
+Craige, who's right here in town.
+
+"He's the real thing, is he?" says I.
+
+"Most skillful oculist in the country," says Pinckney, "and charges
+accordingly."
+
+"As high as fifty a throw?" says I.
+
+"Fifty!" says Pinckney. "You should see his Cliff Walk cottage."
+
+"Let's," says I. "There's a friend of mine I'd like to have him take a
+look at to-morrow."
+
+"No use," says Pinckney. "He drops his practice entirely during his
+vacation; wouldn't treat an Emperor then, I've heard him say. He's a good
+deal of a crank on that--and billiards."
+
+"But see here, Pinckney," says I, and I goes on to give him the whole
+tale about Beany, puttin' it over as strong as I knew how.
+
+"Sorry," says Pinckney; "but I know of no way in which I could induce him
+to change his custom. He's Scotch, you know, and as obstinate as---- Hold
+on, Shorty! I've an idea. How strong will you back my game of
+billiards?"
+
+Now of all the erratic cue performers I ever watched, Pinckney gets the
+medal. There's times when he can nurse 'em along the cushion and run up
+quite a string, and then again I've seen him play a game any duffer'd be
+ashamed of. But I begins to smell out his scheme.
+
+"If it means a chance for Beany," says I, "I'll bid good-by to five
+twenties and let you do your worst."
+
+"A wager of that sort would tempt Craige, if anything would," says
+Pinckney. "We'll try it on, anyway."
+
+Whether it was the bluff Pinckney threw, or the insultin' way he suggests
+that the Doc don't dare take him up, I can't say. All I know is that
+inside of half an hour we was in Jason Craige's private billiard room,
+him and Pinckney peeled down to their shirts, and at it.
+
+As a rule I could go to sleep watchin' the best three-ball carom game
+ever played; but durin' this contest I holds the marker's stick and never
+misses a move. First off Pinckney plays about as skillful as a trained
+pig practicin' on the piano; but after four or five minutes of punk
+exhibition he takes a brace and surprises himself.
+
+No need going into details. Pinckney wins out, and the Doc slams his cue
+into the rack with some remark about producin' the charity patient
+to-morrow. Did I? I routs Renée out at daylight next mornin', has him
+make a fifty-mile run at Vanderbilt Cup speed, and we has Beany in the
+eye expert's lib'ry before he comes down for breakfast.
+
+It takes Dr. Craige less'n three minutes to discover that the hospital
+hand who told Beany he was bound to lose both lamps was a fat brained nut
+who'd be more useful drivin' an ashcart. The Doc lays Beany out on a
+leather couch, uses a little cocaine in the right place, monkeys around a
+minute or so with some shiny hardware, and announces that after he's laid
+up for twenty-four hours in a dark room, usin' the wash reg'lar, he'll be
+able to see as well as any of us.
+
+It's a fact, too; for Beany goes back on his old job next Monday
+mornin'.
+
+"By Jove!" says Pinckney, after the trick is turned. "A miracle,
+Craige!"
+
+"Miracle be blowed!" says the Doc. "You accomplished the miracle last
+night, Pinckney, when you ran thirty-two buttons on scratch hits."
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+      *      *      *      *      *      *
+
+
+THE NOVELS OF
+GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list.
+
+GRAUSTARK. Illustrated with Scenes from the Play.
+
+With the appearance of this novel, the author introduced a new type of
+story and won for himself a perpetual reading public. It is the story of
+love behind a throne in a new and strange country.
+
+BEVERLY OF GRAUSTARK. Illustrations by Harrison Fisher.
+
+This is a sequel to "Graustark." A bewitching American girl visits the
+little principality and there has a romantic love affair.
+
+PRINCE OF GRAUSTARK. Illustrations by A. I. Keller.
+
+The Prince of Graustark is none other than the son of the heroine of
+"Graustark." Beverly's daughter, and an American multimillionaire with a
+brilliant and lovely daughter also figure in the story.
+
+BREWSTER'S MILLIONS.
+
+Illustrated with Scenes from the Photo-Play.
+
+A young man, required to spend one million dollars in one year, in order
+to inherit _seven_, accomplishes the task in this lively story.
+
+COWARDICE COURT.
+
+Illus. by Harrison Fisher and decorations by Theodore Hapgood.
+
+A romance of love and adventure, the plot forming around a social feud in
+the Adirondacks in which an English girl is tempted into being a traitor
+by a romantic young American.
+
+THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND. Illustrated by A. I. Keller.
+
+A story of modern New York, built around an ancient enmity, born of the
+scorn of the aristocrat for one of inferior birth.
+
+WHAT'S-HIS-NAME. Illustrations by Harrison Fisher.
+
+"What's-His-Name" is the husband of a beautiful and popular actress who
+is billboarded on Broadway under an assumed name. The very opposite
+manner in which these two live their lives brings a dramatic climax to
+the story.
+
+Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction
+Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York
+
+      *      *      *      *      *      *
+
+ZANE GREY'S NOVELS
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list
+
+THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS
+
+A New York society girl buys a ranch which becomes the center of frontier
+warfare. Her loyal superintendent rescues her when she is captured by
+bandits. A surprising climax brings the story to a delightful close.
+
+THE RAINBOW TRAIL
+
+The story of a young clergyman who becomes a wanderer in the great
+western uplands--until at last love and faith awake.
+
+DESERT GOLD
+
+The story describes the recent uprising along the border, and ends with
+the finding of the gold which two prospectors had willed to the girl who
+is the story's heroine.
+
+RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE
+
+A picturesque romance of Utah of some forty years ago when Mormon
+authority ruled. The prosecution of Jane Withersteen is the theme of the
+story.
+
+THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN
+
+This is the record of a trip which the author took with Buffalo Jones,
+known as the _preserver of the American bison, across the Arizona desert
+and of a hunt in_ "that wonderful country of deep canons and giant
+pines."
+
+THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT
+
+A lovely girl, who has been reared among Mormons, learns to love a young
+New Englander. The Mormon religion, however, demands that the girl shall
+become the second wife of one of the Mormons--Well, that's the problem of
+this great story.
+
+THE SHORT STOP
+
+The young hero, tiring of his factory grind, starts out to win fame and
+fortune as a professional ball player. His hard knocks at the start are
+followed by such success as clean sportsmanship, courage and honesty
+ought to win.
+
+BETTY ZANE
+
+This story tells of the bravery and heroism of Betty, the beautiful young
+sister of old Colonel Zane, one of the bravest pioneers.
+
+THE LONE STAR RANGER
+
+After killing a man in self defense, Buck Duane becomes an outlaw along
+the Texas border. In a camp on the Mexican side of the river, he finds a
+young girl held prisoner, and in attempting to rescue her, brings down
+upon himself the wrath of her captors and henceforth is hunted on one
+side by honest men, on the other by outlaws.
+
+THE BORDER LEGION
+
+Joan Randle, in a spirit of anger, sent Jim Cleve out to a lawless
+Western mining camp, to prove his mettle. Then realizing that she loved
+him--she followed him out. On her way, she is captured by a bandit band,
+and trouble begins when she shoots Kells, the leader--and nurses him to
+health again. Here enters another romance--when Joan, disguised as an
+outlaw, observes Jim, in the throes of dissipation. A gold strike, a
+thrilling robbery--gambling and gun play carry you along breathlessly.
+
+THE LAST OF THE GREAT SCOUTS,
+
+By Helen Cody Wetmore and Zane Grey
+
+The life story of Colonel William F. Cody, "Buffalo Bill," as told by his
+sister and Zane Grey. It begins with his boyhood in Iowa and his first
+encounter with an Indian. We see "Bill" as a pony express rider, then
+near Fort Sumter as Chief of the Scouts, and later engaged in the most
+dangerous Indian campaigns. There is also a very interesting account of
+the travels of "The Wild West" Show. No character in public life makes a
+stronger appeal to the imagination of America than "Buffalo Bill," whose
+daring and bravery made him famous
+
+Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York
+
+      *      *      *      *      *      *
+
+B. M. Bower's Novels
+Thrilling Western Romances
+
+Large 12 mos. Handsomely bound in cloth. Illustrated
+
+
+CHIP, OF THE FLYING U
+
+A breezy wholesome tale, wherein the love affairs of Chip and Delia
+Whitman are charmingly and humorously told. Chip's jealousy of Dr. Cecil
+Grantham, who turns out to be a big, blue eyed young woman is very
+amusing. A clever, realistic story of the American Cow-puncher.
+
+THE HAPPY FAMILY
+
+A lively and amusing story, dealing with the adventures of eighteen
+jovial, big hearted Montana cowboys. Foremost amongst them, we find
+Ananias Green, known as Andy, whose imaginative powers cause many lively
+and exciting adventures.
+
+HER PRAIRIE KNIGHT
+
+A realistic story of the plains, describing a gay party of Easterners who
+exchange a cottage at Newport for the rough homeliness of a Montana
+ranch-house. The merry-hearted cowboys, the fascinating Beatrice, and the
+effusive Sir Redmond, become living, breathing personalities.
+
+THE RANGE DWELLERS
+
+Here are everyday, genuine cowboys, just as they really exist. Spirited
+action, a range feud between two families, and a Romeo and Juliet
+courtship make this a bright, jolly, entertaining story, without a dull
+page.
+
+THE LURE OF DIM TRAILS
+
+A vivid portrayal of the experience of an Eastern author, among the
+cowboys of the West, in search of "local color" for a new novel. "Bud"
+Thurston learns many a lesson while following "the lure of the dim
+trails" but the hardest, and probably the most welcome, is that of love.
+
+THE LONESOME TRAIL
+
+"Weary" Davidson leaves the ranch for Portland, where conventional city
+life palls on him. A little branch of sage brush, pungent with the
+atmosphere of the prairie, and the recollection of a pair of large brown
+eyes soon compel his return. A wholesome love story.
+
+THE LONG SHADOW
+
+A vigorous Western story, sparkling with the free, outdoor, life of a
+mountain ranch. Its scenes shift rapidly and its actors play the game of
+life fearlessly and like men. It is a fine love story from start to
+finish.
+
+Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction
+Grosset & Dunlap, 526 West 26th St., New York
+
+      *      *      *      *      *      *
+
+BOOTH TARKINGTON'S NOVELS
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
+
+SEVENTEEN. Illustrated by Arthur William Brown.
+
+No one but the creator of Penrod could have portrayed the immortal young
+people of this story. Its humor is irresistible and reminiscent of the
+time when the reader was Seventeen.
+
+PENROD. Illustrated by Gordon Grant.
+
+This is a picture of a boy's heart, full of the lovable, humorous, tragic
+things which are locked secrets to most older folks. It is a finished,
+exquisite work.
+
+PENROD AND SAM. Illustrated by Worth Brehm.
+
+Like "Penrod" and "Seventeen," this book contains some remarkable phases
+of real boyhood and some of the best stories of juvenile prankishness
+that have ever been written.
+
+THE TURMOIL. Illustrated by C. E. Chambers.
+
+Bibbs Sheridan is a dreamy, imaginative youth, who revolts against his
+father's plans for him to be a servitor of big business. The love of a
+fine girl turns Bibbs' life from failure to success.
+
+THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA. Frontispiece.
+
+A story of love and politics,--more especially a picture of a country
+editor's life in Indiana, but the charm of the book lies in the love
+interest.
+
+THE FLIRT. Illustrated by Clarence F. Underwood.
+
+The "Flirt," the younger of two sisters, breaks one girl's engagement,
+drives one man to suicide, causes the murder of another, leads another to
+lose his fortune, and in the end marries a stupid and unpromising suitor,
+leaving the really worthy one to marry her sister.
+
+Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction
+Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York
+
+      *      *      *      *      *      *
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP'S DRAMATIZED NOVELS
+
+THE KIND THAT ARE MAKING THEATRICAL HISTORY
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask far Grosset & Dunlap's list
+
+WITHIN THE LAW. By Bayard Veiller & Marvin Dana. Illustrated by Wm.
+Charles Cooke.
+
+This is a novelization of the immensely successful play which ran for two
+years in New York and Chicago.
+
+The plot of this powerful novel is of a young woman's revenge directed
+against her employer who allowed her to be sent to prison for three years
+on a charge of theft, of which she was innocent.
+
+WHAT HAPPENED TO MARY. By Robert Carlton Brown. Illustrated with scenes
+from the play.
+
+This is a narrative of a young and innocent country girl who is suddenly
+thrown into the very heart of New York, "the land of her dreams," where
+she is exposed to all sorts of temptations and dangers.
+
+The story of Mary is being told in moving pictures and played in theatres
+all over the world.
+
+THE RETURN OF PETER GRIMM. By David Belasco. Illustrated by John Rae.
+
+This is a novelization of the popular play in which David Warfield, as
+Old Peter Grimm, scored such a remarkable success.
+
+The story is spectacular and extremely pathetic but withal, powerful,
+both as a book and as a play.
+
+THE GARDEN OF ALLAH. By Robert Hichens.
+
+This novel is an intense, glowing epic of the great desert, sunlit
+barbaric, with its marvelous atmosphere of vastness and loneliness.
+
+It is a book of rapturous beauty, vivid in word painting. The play has
+been staged with magnificent cast and gorgeous properties.
+
+BEN HUR. A Tale of the Christ. By General Lew Wallace.
+
+The whole world has placed this famous Religious-Historical Romance on a
+height of pre-eminence which no other novel of its time has reached. The
+clashing of rivalry and the deepest human passions, the perfect
+reproduction of brilliant Roman life, and the tense, fierce atmosphere of
+the arena have kept their deep fascination. A tremendous dramatic
+success.
+
+BOUGHT AND PAID FOR. By George Broadhurst and Arthur Hornblow.
+Illustrated with scenes from the play.
+
+A stupendous arraignment of modern marriage which has created an interest
+on the stage that is almost unparalleled. The scenes are laid in New
+York, and deal with conditions among both the rich and poor.
+
+The interest of the story turns on the day-by-day developments which show
+the young wife the price she has paid.
+
+Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction
+Grosset & Dunlap, 526 West 26th St., New York
+
+      *      *      *      *      *      *
+
+THE NOVELS OF
+STEWART EDWARD WHITE
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
+
+THE BLAZED TRAIL. Illustrated by Thomas Fogarty.
+
+A wholesome story with gleams of humor, telling of a young man who blazed
+his way to fortune through the heart of the Michigan pines.
+
+THE CALL OF THE NORTH. Ills. with Scenes from the Play.
+
+The story centers about a Hudson Bay trading post, known as "The
+Conjuror's House" (the original title of the book.)
+
+THE RIVERMAN. Ills. by N. C. Wyeth and C. F. Underwood.
+
+The story of a man's fight against a river and of a struggle between
+honesty and grit on the one side, and dishonesty and shrewdness on the
+other.
+
+RULES OF THE GAME. Illustrated by Lejaren A. Hiller.
+
+The romance of the son of "The Riverman." The young college hero goes
+into the lumber camp, is antagonized by "graft," and comes into the
+romance of his life.
+
+GOLD. Illustrated by Thomas Fogarty.
+
+The gold fever of '49 is pictured with vividness. A part of the story is
+laid in Panama, the route taken by the gold-seekers.
+
+THE FOREST. Illustrated by Thomas Fogarty.
+
+The book tells of the canoe trip of the author and his companion into the
+great woods. Much information about camping and outdoor life. A splendid
+treatise on woodcraft.
+
+THE MOUNTAINS. Illustrated by Fernand Lungren.
+
+An account of the adventures of a five months' camping trip in the
+Sierras of California. The author has followed a true sequence of
+events.
+
+THE CABIN. Illustrated with photographs by the author.
+
+A chronicle of the building of a cabin home in a forest-girdled meadow of
+the Sierras. Full of nature and woodcraft, and the shrewd philosophy of
+"California John."
+
+THE GRAY DAWN. Illustrated by Thomas Fogarty.
+
+This book tells of the period shortly after the first mad rush for gold
+in California. A young lawyer and his wife, initiated into the gay life
+of San Francisco, find their ways parted through his downward course, but
+succeeding events bring the "gray dawn of better things" for both of
+them.
+
+Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction
+Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ODD NUMBERS***
+
+
+******* This file should be named 26528-8.txt or 26528-8.zip *******
+
+
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/6/5/2/26528
+
+
+
+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.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+https://www.gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+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
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at https://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit:
+https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  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:
+
+     https://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/26528-8.zip b/26528-8.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3e17595
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-8.zip
diff --git a/26528-h.zip b/26528-h.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..333d2a2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-h.zip
diff --git a/26528-h/26528-h.htm b/26528-h/26528-h.htm
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c1a7be1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-h/26528-h.htm
@@ -0,0 +1,10294 @@
+<!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 Odd Numbers, by Sewell Ford</title>
+<style type="text/css">
+/*<![CDATA[  XML blockout */
+<!--
+    p                 {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;}
+    body              {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    a                 {text-decoration: none;}
+    h3                {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size: 1.2em;}
+    h3.pg             {text-align:center; font-weight:bold; font-size: 110%;}
+    .pncolor          {color: silver;}
+    div.ce p          {text-align: center; margin: auto 0;}
+    .figcenter        {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; text-align: center;}
+    .caption          {font-size:.8em;}
+    table             {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;}
+    .pagenum          {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;}
+    hr.major          {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;}
+    hr.silver         {width: 100%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver;}
+    h2                {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size: 1.4em;}
+
+    hr.full { width: 100%;
+              margin-top: 3em;
+              margin-bottom: 0em;
+              margin-left: auto;
+              margin-right: auto;
+              height: 4px;
+              border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */
+              border-style: solid;
+              border-color: #000000;
+              clear: both; }
+    pre      {font-size: 85%;}
+// -->
+/* XML end  ]]>*/
+</style>
+</head>
+<body>
+<h1 class="figcenter">The Project Gutenberg eBook, Odd Numbers, by Sewell Ford, Illustrated by
+F. Vaux Nicholson</h1>
+<pre>
+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 <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: Odd Numbers</p>
+<p>       Being Further Chronicles of Shorty McCabe</p>
+<p>Author: Sewell Ford</p>
+<p>Release Date: September 4, 2008  [eBook #26528]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ODD NUMBERS***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3 class="pg">E-text prepared by Roger Frank<br />
+    and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br />
+    (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div class='figcenter'>
+<img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 482px; height: 309px;' /><br />
+<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 482px;'>
+<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>&#8220;&#8216;Sisters? Do we look it?&#8217; says Maisie&#8221;</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<div class='ce'>
+<p style=' font-size:1.6em; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0.5em;'>ODD NUMBERS</p>
+<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>BEING FURTHER CHRONICLES</p>
+<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-bottom:2em;'>OF SHORTY McCABE</p>
+<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-bottom:1em;'>BY</p>
+<p style=' font-size:1.4em; margin-bottom:2em;'>SEWELL FORD</p>
+<p style=' font-size:0.81em;'>AUTHOR OF</p>
+<p style=' font-size:0.8em; margin-bottom:2em;'>TRYING OUT TORCHY, ETC.</p>
+<div style='margin-top:1em'></div>
+<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>Illustrations by</p>
+<p style=' font-size:1em; margin-bottom:2em;'>F. VAUX WILSON</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div style='margin-top:1em'></div>
+<p style=' font-size:1em;'>NEW YORK</p>
+<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>GROSSET &amp; DUNLAP</p>
+<p style=' font-size:1em;'>PUBLISHERS</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<div class='ce' style=' font-size:0.8em;'>
+<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Copyright</span>, 1908, 1909, 1910, 1911, <span style='font-variant: small-caps'>by</span></p>
+<p>SEWELL FORD</p>
+<div style='margin-top:1em'></div>
+<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Copyright</span>, 1912, <span style='font-variant: small-caps'>by</span></p>
+<p>EDWARD J. CLODE</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<div class='ce'>
+<p style=' font-size:1.4em; margin-bottom:1em;'>Contents</p>
+</div>
+
+<table border='0' width='500' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'>
+<tr>
+  <td align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'><span style='font-size:small;'>CHAPTER</span></td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td align='right'><span style='font-size:small;'>PAGE</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>I.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Goliah and the Purple Lid</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#I_GOLIAH_AND_THE_PURPLE_LID'>1</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>II.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'>How Maizie Came Through&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#II_HOW_MAIZIE_CAME_THROUGH'>17</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>III.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'>Where Spotty Fitted In&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#III_WHERE_SPOTTY_FITTED_IN'>35</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IV.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'>A Grandmother Who Got Going&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IV_A_GRANDMOTHER_WHO_GOT_GOING'>50</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>V.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'>A Long Shot on DeLancey&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#V_A_LONG_SHOT_ON_DELANCEY'>67</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VI.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'>Playing Harold Both Ways&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VI_PLAYING_HAROLD_BOTH_WAYS'>84</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VII.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'>Cornelia Shows Some Class&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VII_CORNELIA_SHOWS_SOME_CLASS'>100</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VIII.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'>Doping Out an Odd One&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VIII_DOPING_OUT_AN_ODD_ONE'>116</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IX.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'>Handing Bobby a Blank&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IX_HANDING_BOBBY_A_BLANK'>134</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>X.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'>Marmaduke Slips One Over&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#X_MARMADUKE_SLIPS_ONE_OVER'>151</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XI.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'>A Look In on the Goat Game&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XI_A_LOOK_IN_ON_THE_GOAT_GAME'>167</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XII.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'>Mrs. Truckles&#8217; Broad Jump&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XII_MRS_TRUCKLES__BROAD_JUMP'>183</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIII.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'>Heiney Takes the Gloom Cure&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIII_HEINEY_TAKES_THE_GLOOM_CURE'>199</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIV.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'>A Try-Out for Toodleism&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIV_A_TRYOUT_FOR_TOODLEISM'>214</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XV.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'>The Case of the Tiscotts&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XV_THE_CASE_OF_THE_TISCOTTS'>230</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVI.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'>Classing Tutwater Right&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVI_CLASSING_TUTWATER_RIGHT'>246</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVII.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'>How Hermy Put It Over&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVII_HOW_HERMY_PUT_IT_OVER'>262</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVIII.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'>Joy Riding with Aunty&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVIII_JOY_RIDING_WITH_AUNTY'>279</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIX.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'>Turning a Trick for Beany&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIX_TURNING_A_TRICK_FOR_BEANY'>294</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<div class='ce'>
+<p style=' font-size:1.4em;'>ODD NUMBERS</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 0em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='I_GOLIAH_AND_THE_PURPLE_LID' id='I_GOLIAH_AND_THE_PURPLE_LID'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_1' name='page_1'></a>1</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER I</h2>
+<h3>GOLIAH AND THE PURPLE LID</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>One of my highbrow reg&#8217;lars at the
+Physical Culture Studio, a gent that
+mixes up in charity works, like organizin&#8217;
+debatin&#8217; societies in the deaf and dumb
+asylums, was tellin&#8217; me awhile back of a great
+scheme of his to help out the stranger in our
+fair village. He wants to open public information
+bureaus, where a jay might go and find out
+anything he wanted to know, from how to locate
+a New Thought church, to the nearest place
+where he could buy a fresh celluloid collar.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Get the idea?&#8221; says he. &#8220;A public
+bureau where strangers in New York would be
+given courteous attention, friendly advice, and
+that sort of thing.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the use?&#8221; says I. &#8220;Ain&#8217;t I here?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Course, I was just gettin&#8217; over a josh. But
+say, it ain&#8217;t all a funny dream, either. Don&#8217;t a
+lot of &#8217;em come my way? Maybe it&#8217;s because
+I&#8217;m so apt to lay myself open to the confidential
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_2' name='page_2'></a>2</span>
+tackle. But somehow, when I see one of these
+tourist freaks sizin&#8217; me up, and lookin&#8217; kind of
+dazed and lonesome, I can&#8217;t chuck him back the
+frosty stare. I&#8217;ve been a stray in a strange
+town myself. So I gen&#8217;rally tries to seem halfway
+human, and if he opens up with some shot
+on the weather, I let him get in the follow-up
+questions and take the chances.</p>
+<p>Here the other day, though, I wa&#8217;n&#8217;t lookin&#8217;
+for anything of the kind. I was just joltin&#8217;
+down my luncheon with a little promenade up
+the sunny side of Avenue V, taking in the exhibits&mdash;things
+in the show windows and folks
+on the sidewalks&mdash;as keen as if I&#8217;d paid in my
+dollar at some ticket office.</p>
+<p>And say, where can you beat it? I see it
+&#8217;most every day in the year, and it&#8217;s always
+new. There&#8217;s different flowers in the florists&#8217;
+displays, new flags hung out on the big hotels,
+and even the chorus ladies in the limousines are
+changed now and then.</p>
+<p>I can&#8217;t figure out just what it was landed me
+in front of this millinery window. Gen&#8217;rally
+I hurry by them exhibits with a shudder; for
+once I got gay and told Sadie to take her pick,
+as this one was on me; and it was months before
+I got over the shock of payin&#8217; that bill.
+But there I finds myself, close up to the plate
+glass, gawpin&#8217; at a sample of what can be done
+in the hat line when the Bureau of Obstructions
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3' name='page_3'></a>3</span>
+has been bought off and nobody&#8217;s thought of
+applyin&#8217; the statute of limitations.</p>
+<p>It&#8217;s a heliotrope lid, and the foundation must
+have used up enough straw to bed down a circus.
+It has the dimensions and general outlines of a
+summerhouse. The scheme of decoration is
+simple enough, though. The top of this heliotrope
+summerhouse has been caught in a heliotrope
+fog, that&#8217;s all. There&#8217;s yards and yards
+of this gauzy stuff draped and puffed and looped
+around it, with only a wide purple ribbon
+showin&#8217; here and there and keepin&#8217; the fog in
+place.</p>
+<p>Well, all that is restin&#8217; careless in a box, the
+size of a quarter-mile runnin&#8217; track, with the
+cover half off. And it&#8217;s a work of art in itself,
+that box,&mdash;all Looey Cans pictures, and a thick
+purple silk cord to tie it up with. Why, one
+glimpse of that combination was enough to
+make me clap my hand over my roll and back
+away from the spot!</p>
+<p>Just then, though, I notices another gent steppin&#8217;
+up for a squint at the monstrosity, and I
+can&#8217;t help lingerin&#8217; to see if he gets the same
+kind of a shock. He&#8217;s sort of a queer party,
+too,&mdash;short, stoop shouldered, thin faced,
+wrinkled old chap, with a sandy mustache
+mixed some with gray, and a pair of shrewd little
+eyes peerin&#8217; out under bushy brows. Anybody
+could spot him as a rutabaga delegate by
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4' name='page_4'></a>4</span>
+the high crowned soft hat and the back number
+ulster that he&#8217;s still stickin&#8217; to, though the thermometer
+is way up in the eighties.</p>
+<p>But he don&#8217;t seem to shy any at the purple
+lid. He sticks his head out first this way and
+then that, like a turtle, and then all of a sudden
+he shoots over kind of a quizzin&#8217; glance at me.
+I can&#8217;t help but give him the grin. At that his
+mouth corners wrinkle up and the little gray
+eyes begin to twinkle.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Quite a hat, eh?&#8221; he chuckles.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s goin&#8217; some in the lid line,&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I expect that&#8217;s a mighty stylish article,
+though,&#8221; says he.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s the bluff the store people are
+makin&#8217;,&#8221; says I, &#8220;and there&#8217;s no law against
+it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What would be your guess on the price of
+that there, now?&#8221; says he, edging up.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, let&#8217;s leave such harrowin&#8217; details to the
+man that has to pay for it,&#8221; says I. &#8220;No use
+in our gettin&#8217; the chilly spine over what&#8217;s
+marked on the price ticket; that is, unless you&#8217;re
+thinking of investin&#8217;,&#8221; and as I tips him the
+humorous wink I starts to move off.</p>
+<p>But this wa&#8217;n&#8217;t a case where I was to get
+out so easy. He comes right after me. &#8220;Excuse
+me, neighbor,&#8221; says he; &#8220;but&mdash;but that&#8217;s
+exactly what I was thinking of doing, if it wasn&#8217;t
+too infernally expensive.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5' name='page_5'></a>5</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;What!&#8221; says I, gazin&#8217; at him; for he ain&#8217;t
+the kind of citizen you&#8217;d expect to find indulgin&#8217;
+in such foolishness. &#8220;Oh, well, don&#8217;t mind my
+remarks. Go ahead and blow yourself. You
+want it for the missus, eh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ye-e-es,&#8221; he drawls; &#8220;for&mdash;for my wife.
+Ah&mdash;er&mdash;would it be asking too much of a
+stranger if I should get you to step in there
+with me while I find out the price?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why,&#8221; says I, lookin&#8217; him over careful,&mdash;&#8220;why,
+I don&#8217;t know as I&#8217;d want to go as far
+as&mdash;&mdash; Well, what&#8217;s the object?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You see,&#8221; says he, &#8220;I&#8217;m sort of a bashful
+person,&mdash;always have been,&mdash;and I don&#8217;t just
+like to go in there alone amongst all them women
+folks. But the fact is, I&#8217;ve kind of got my
+mind set on having that hat, and&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wife ain&#8217;t in town, then?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; says he, &#8220;she&#8217;s&mdash;she isn&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ain&#8217;t you runnin&#8217; some risks,&#8221; says I,
+&#8220;loadin&#8217; up with a lid that may not fit her
+partic&#8217;lar style of beauty?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s so, that&#8217;s so,&#8221; says he. &#8220;Ought
+to be something that would kind of jibe with her
+complexion and the color of her hair, hadn&#8217;t
+it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve surrounded the idea,&#8221; says I.
+&#8220;Maybe it would be safer to send for her to
+come on.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; says he; &#8220;couldn&#8217;t be done. But see
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6' name='page_6'></a>6</span>
+here,&#8221; and he takes my arm and steers me up
+the avenue, &#8220;if you don&#8217;t mind talking this
+over, I&#8217;d like to tell you a plan I&#8217;ve just thought
+out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Well, he&#8217;d got me some int&#8217;rested in him by
+that time. I could see he wa&#8217;n&#8217;t no common
+Rube, and them twinklin&#8217; little eyes of his kind
+of got me. So I tells him to reel it off.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe you never heard of me,&#8221; he goes on;
+&#8220;but I&#8217;m Goliah Daggett, from South Forks,
+Iowy.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Guess I&#8217;ve missed hearin&#8217; of you,&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I suppose so,&#8221; says he, kind of disappointed,
+though. &#8220;The boys out there call me
+Gol Daggett.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sounds most like a cussword,&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; says he; &#8220;that&#8217;s one reason I&#8217;m
+pretty well known in the State. And there may
+be other reasons, too.&#8221; He lets out a little
+chuckle at that; not loud, you know, but just as
+though he was swallowin&#8217; some joke or other.
+It was a specialty of his, this smothered chuckle
+business. &#8220;Of course,&#8221; he goes on, &#8220;you
+needn&#8217;t tell me your name, unless&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a fair swap,&#8221; says I. &#8220;Mine&#8217;s McCabe;
+Shorty for short.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes?&#8221; says he. &#8220;I knew a McCabe once.
+He&mdash;er&mdash;well, he&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Never mind,&#8221; says I. &#8220;It&#8217;s a big fam&#8217;ly,
+and there&#8217;s only a few of us that&#8217;s real credits
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7' name='page_7'></a>7</span>
+to the name. But about this scheme of yours,
+Mr. Daggett?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Certainly,&#8221; says he. &#8220;It&#8217;s just this: If I
+could find a woman who looked a good deal like
+my wife, I could try the hat on her, couldn&#8217;t I?
+She&#8217;d do as well, eh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know why not,&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; says he, &#8220;I know of just such a
+woman; saw her this morning in my hotel barber
+shop, where I dropped in for a haircut. She
+was one of these&mdash;What do you call &#8217;em now?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Manicure artists?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s it,&#8221; says he. &#8220;Asked me if I didn&#8217;t
+want my fingers manicured; and, by jinks! I let
+her do it, just to see what it was like. Never
+felt so blamed foolish in my life! Look at
+them fingernails, will you? Been parin&#8217; &#8217;em
+with a jackknife for fifty-seven years; and she
+soaks &#8217;em out in a bowl of perfumery, jabs under
+&#8217;em with a little stick wrapped in cotton,
+cuts off all the hang nails, files &#8217;em round at the
+ends, and polishes &#8217;em up so they shine as if
+they were varnished! He, he! Guess the boys
+would laugh if they could have seen me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s one experience you&#8217;ve got on me,&#8221;
+says I. &#8220;And this manicure lady is a ringer
+for Mrs. Daggett, eh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, now,&#8221; says he, scratchin&#8217; his chin,
+&#8220;maybe I ought to put it that she looks a good
+deal as Mrs. Daggett might have looked ten or
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8' name='page_8'></a>8</span>
+fifteen years ago if she&#8217;d been got up that way,&mdash;same
+shade of red hair, only not such a thunderin&#8217;
+lot of it; same kind of blue eyes, only not
+so wide open and starry; and a nose and chin
+that I couldn&#8217;t help remarking. Course, now,
+you understand this young woman was fixed
+up considerable smarter than Mrs. Daggett ever
+was in her life.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If she&#8217;s a manicure artist in one of them
+Broadway hotels,&#8221; says I, &#8220;I could guess that;
+specially if Mrs. Daggett&#8217;s always stuck to
+Iowa.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, that&#8217;s right; she has,&#8221; says Daggett.
+&#8220;But if she&#8217;d had the same chance to know
+what to wear and how to wear it&mdash;&mdash;Well, I
+wish she&#8217;d had it, that&#8217;s all. And she wanted
+it. My, my! how she did hanker for such
+things, Mr. McCabe!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, better late than never,&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, no!&#8221; says he, his voice kind of breakin&#8217;
+up. &#8220;That&#8217;s what I want to forget, how&mdash;how
+late it is!&#8221; and hanged if he don&#8217;t have to
+fish out a handkerchief and swab off his eyes.
+&#8220;You see,&#8221; he goes on, &#8220;Marthy&#8217;s gone.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eh?&#8221; says I. &#8220;You mean she&#8217;s&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>He nods. &#8220;Four years ago this spring,&#8221;
+says he. &#8220;Typhoid.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But,&#8221; says I, &#8220;how about this hat?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;One of my notions,&#8221; says he,&mdash;&#8220;just a
+foolish idea of mine. I&#8217;ll tell you. When she
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span>
+was lying there, all white and thin, and not
+caring whether she ever got up again or not, a
+new spring hat was the only thing I could get
+her to take an interest in. She&#8217;d never had
+what you might call a real, bang-up, stylish hat.
+Always wanted one, too. And it wasn&#8217;t because
+I was such a mean critter that she
+couldn&#8217;t have had the money. But you know
+how it is in a little place like South Forks. They
+don&#8217;t have &#8217;em in stock, not the kind she wanted,
+and maybe we couldn&#8217;t have found one nearer
+than Omaha or Chicago; and someway there
+never was a spring when I could seem to fix
+things so we could take the trip. Looked kind
+of foolish, too, traveling so far just to get a
+hat. So she went without, and put up with what
+Miss Simmons could trim for her. They looked
+all right, too, and I used to tell Marthy they
+were mighty becoming; but all the time I knew
+they weren&#8217;t just&mdash;well, you know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Say, I never saw any specimens of Miss Simmons&#8217;
+art works; but I could make a guess.
+And I nods my head.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; says Daggett, &#8220;when I saw that
+Marthy was kind of giving up, I used to coax
+her to get well. &#8216;You just get on your feet
+once, Marthy,&#8217; says I, &#8216;and we&#8217;ll go down to
+Chicago and buy you the finest and stylishest
+hat we can find in the whole city. More than
+that, you shall have a new one every spring, the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span>
+very best.&#8217; She&#8217;d almost smile at that, and
+half promise she&#8217;d try. But it wasn&#8217;t any use.
+The fever hadn&#8217;t left her strength enough. And
+the first thing I knew she&#8217;d slipped away.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Odd sort of yarn to be hearin&#8217; there on Fifth-ave.
+on a sunshiny afternoon, wa&#8217;n&#8217;t it? And
+us dodgin&#8217; over crossin&#8217;s, and duckin&#8217; under
+awnin&#8217;s, and sidesteppin&#8217; the foot traffic! But
+he keeps right close to my elbow and gives me
+the whole story, even to how they&#8217;d agreed to
+use the little knoll just back of the farmhouse
+as a burial plot, and how she marked the hymns
+she wanted sung, and how she wanted him to
+find someone else as soon as the year was out.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Which was the only thing I couldn&#8217;t say
+yes to,&#8221; says Daggett. &#8220;&#8216;No, Marthy,&#8217; says I,
+&#8216;not unless I can find another just like you.&#8217;&mdash;&#8216;You&#8217;ll
+be mighty lonesome, Goliah,&#8217; says she,
+&#8216;and you&#8217;ll be wanting to change your flannels
+too early.&#8217;&mdash;&#8216;Maybe so,&#8217; says I; &#8216;but I guess
+I&#8217;ll worry along for the rest of the time alone.&#8217;
+Yes, sir, Mr. McCabe, she was a fine woman,
+and a patient one. No one ever knew how bad
+she wanted lots of things that she might of had,
+and gave up. You see, I was pretty deep in the
+wheat business, and every dollar I could get
+hold of went to buying more reapers and interests
+in elevator companies and crop options. I
+was bound to be a rich man, and they say I got
+there. Yes, I guess I am fairly well fixed.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span></p>
+<p>It wa&#8217;n&#8217;t any chesty crow, but more like a
+sigh, and as we stops on a crossing to let a lady
+plutess roll by in her brougham, Mr. Daggett
+he sizes up the costume she wore and shakes his
+head kind of regretful.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s the way Marthy should have been
+dressed,&#8221; says he. &#8220;She&#8217;d have liked it. And
+she&#8217;d liked a hat such as that one we saw back
+there; that is, if it&#8217;s the right kind. I&#8217;ve been
+buying &#8217;em kind of careless, maybe.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How&#8217;s that?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; says he, &#8220;I didn&#8217;t finish telling you
+about my fool idea. I&#8217;ve been getting one every
+spring, the best I could pick out in Chicago, and
+carrying it up there on the knoll where Marthy
+is&mdash;and just leaving it. Go on now, Mr. McCabe;
+laugh if you want to. I won&#8217;t mind. I
+can almost laugh at myself. Of course,
+Marthy&#8217;s beyond caring for hats now. Still, I
+like to leave &#8217;em there; and I like to think perhaps
+she does know, after all. So&mdash;so I want
+to get that purple one, providing it would be
+the right shade. What do you say?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Talk about your nutty propositions, eh? But
+honest, I didn&#8217;t feel even like crackin&#8217; a smile.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Daggett,&#8221; says I, &#8220;you&#8217;re a true sport,
+even if you have got a few bats in the loft.
+Let&#8217;s go back and get quotations on the
+lid.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wish,&#8221; says he, &#8220;I could see it tried on
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span>
+that manicure young woman first. Suppose we
+go down and bring her up?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What makes you think she&#8217;ll come?&#8221;
+says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I guess she will,&#8221; says he, quiet and
+thoughtful. &#8220;We&#8217;ll try, anyway.&#8221;</p>
+<p>And say, right there I got a new line on
+him. I could almost frame up how it was he&#8217;d
+started in as a bacon borrowin&#8217; homesteader,
+and got to be the John D. of his county. But
+I could see he was up against a new deal this
+trip. And as it was time for me to be gettin&#8217;
+down towards 42d-st. anyway, I goes along.
+As we strikes the hotel barber shop I hangs up
+on the end of the cigar counter while Daggett
+looks around for the young woman who&#8217;d put
+the chappy polish on his nails.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s her,&#8221; says he, pointing out a heavyweight
+Titian blonde in the far corner, and over
+he pikes.</p>
+<p>I couldn&#8217;t help admirin&#8217; the nerve of him;
+for of all the l&#8217;ongoline queens I ever saw, she&#8217;s
+about the haughtiest. Maybe you can throw
+on the screen a picture of a female party with a
+Lillian Russell shape, hair like Mrs. Leslie Carter&#8217;s,
+and an air like a twelve-dollar cloak model
+showin&#8217; off a five hundred-dollar lace dress to
+a bookmaker&#8217;s bride.</p>
+<p>Just as Daggett tiptoes up she&#8217;s pattin&#8217; down
+some of the red puffs that makes the back of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span>
+her head look like a burnin&#8217; oil tank, and she
+swings around languid and scornful to see who
+it is that dares butt in on her presence. All the
+way she recognizes him is by a little lift of the
+eyebrows.</p>
+<p>I don&#8217;t need to hear the dialogue. I can tell
+by her expression what Daggett is saying. First
+there&#8217;s a kind of condescendin&#8217; curiosity as he
+begins, then she looks bored and turns back to
+the mirror, and pretty soon she sings out,
+&#8220;What&#8217;s that?&#8221; so you could hear her all over
+the shop. Then Daggett springs his proposition
+flat.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sir!&#8221; says she, jumpin&#8217; up and glarin&#8217; at
+him.</p>
+<p>Daggett tries to soothe her down; but it&#8217;s
+no go.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Heinmuller!&#8221; she calls out, and the
+boss barber comes steppin&#8217; over, leavin&#8217; a customer
+with his face muffled in a hot towel.
+&#8220;This person,&#8221; she goes on, &#8220;is insulting!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hey?&#8221; says Heinmuller, puffin&#8217; out his
+cheeks. &#8220;Vos iss dot?&#8221;</p>
+<p>And for a minute it looked like I&#8217;d have to
+jump in and save Daggett from being chucked
+through the window. I was just preparin&#8217; to
+grab the boss by the collar, too, when Daggett
+gets in his fine work. Slippin&#8217; a ten off his roll,
+he passes it to Heinmuller, while he explains
+that all he asked of the lady was to try
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span>
+on a hat he was thinkin&#8217; of gettin&#8217; for his
+wife.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s all,&#8221; says he. &#8220;No insult intended.
+And of course I expect to make it worth while
+for the young lady.&#8221;</p>
+<p>I don&#8217;t know whether it was the smooth
+&#8220;young lady&#8221; business, or the sight of the fat
+roll that turned the trick; but the tragedy is
+declared off. Inside of three minutes the boss
+tells Daggett that Miss Rooney accepts his apology
+and consents to go if he&#8217;ll call a cab.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, surely,&#8221; says he. &#8220;You&#8217;ll come
+along, too, won&#8217;t you, McCabe? Honest, now,
+I wouldn&#8217;t dare do this alone.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Too bad about that shy, retirin&#8217; disposition
+of yours!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Afraid she&#8217;ll steal you,
+eh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>But he hangs onto my sleeve and coaxes me
+until I give in. And we sure made a fine trio
+ridin&#8217; up Fifth-ave. in a taxi! But you should
+have seen &#8217;em in the millinery shop as we sails
+in with Miss Rooney, and Daggett says how
+he&#8217;d like a view of that heliotrope lid in the
+window. We had &#8217;em guessin&#8217;, all right.</p>
+<p>Then they gets Miss Rooney in a chair before
+the mirror, and fits the monstrosity on top of
+her red hair. Well, say, what a diff&#8217;rence it
+does make in them freak bonnets whether
+they&#8217;re in a box or on the right head! For
+Miss Rooney has got just the right kind of a
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span>
+face that hat was built to go with. It&#8217;s a bit
+giddy, I&#8217;ll admit; but she&#8217;s a stunner in it.
+And does she notice it any herself? Well,
+some!</p>
+<p>&#8220;A triumph!&#8221; gurgles the saleslady, lookin&#8217;
+from one to the other of us, tryin&#8217; to figure out
+who she ought to play to.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a game combination, all right,&#8221; says I,
+lookin&#8217; wise.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I only wish&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; begins Daggett, and then
+swallows the rest of it. In a minute he steps
+up and says it&#8217;ll do, and that the young lady is
+to pick out one for herself now.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, how perfectly sweet of you!&#8221; says
+Miss Rooney, slippin&#8217; him a smile that should
+have had him clear through the ropes. &#8220;But
+if I am to have any, why not this?&#8221; and she
+balances the heliotrope lid on her fingers, lookin&#8217;
+it over yearnin&#8217; and tender. &#8220;It just suits me,
+doesn&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Then there&#8217;s more of the coy business, aimed
+straight at Daggett. But Miss Rooney don&#8217;t
+quite put it across.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s going out to Iowy with me,&#8221; says
+he, prompt and decided.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; says Miss Rooney, and she proceeds
+to pick out a white straw with a green ostrich
+feather a yard long. She was still lookin&#8217;
+puzzled, though, as we put her into the cab and
+started her back to the barber shop.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Must have set you back near a hundred,
+didn&#8217;t they?&#8221; says I, as Daggett and I parts
+on the corner.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Almost,&#8221; says he. &#8220;But it&#8217;s worth it.
+Marthy would have looked mighty stylish in
+that purple one. Yes, yes! And when I get
+back to South Forks, the first thing I do will be
+to carry it up on the knoll, box and all, and
+leave it there. I wonder if she&#8217;ll know, eh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>There wa&#8217;n&#8217;t any use in my tellin&#8217; him what
+I thought, though. He wa&#8217;n&#8217;t talkin&#8217; to me,
+anyway. There was a kind of a far off, batty
+look in his eyes as he stood there on the corner,
+and a drop of brine was tricklin&#8217; down one side
+of his nose. So we never says a word, but just
+shakes hands, him goin&#8217; his way, and me mine.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Chee!&#8221; says Swifty Joe, when I shows up,
+along about three o&#8217;clock, &#8220;you must have been
+puttin&#8217; away a hearty lunch!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It wa&#8217;n&#8217;t that kept me,&#8221; says I. &#8220;I was
+helpin&#8217; hand a late one to Marthy.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='II_HOW_MAIZIE_CAME_THROUGH' id='II_HOW_MAIZIE_CAME_THROUGH'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER II</h2>
+<h3>HOW MAIZIE CAME THROUGH</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Then again, there&#8217;s other kinds from other
+States, and no two of &#8217;em alike. They float in
+from all quarters, some on ten-day excursions,
+and some with no return ticket. And, of course,
+they&#8217;re all jokes to us at first, while we never
+suspicion that all along we may be jokes to
+them.</p>
+<p>And say, between you and me, we&#8217;re apt to
+think, ain&#8217;t we, that all the rapid motion in the
+world gets its start right here in New York?
+Well, that&#8217;s the wrong dope. For instance,
+once I got next to a super-energized specimen
+that come in from the north end of nowhere, and
+before I was through the experience had left
+me out of breath.</p>
+<p>It was while Sadie and me was livin&#8217; at the
+Perzazzer hotel, before we moved out to Rockhurst-on-the-Sound.
+Early one evenin&#8217; we
+was sittin&#8217;, as quiet and domestic as you please,
+in our twelve by fourteen cabinet finished dinin&#8217;
+room on the seventh floor. We was gazin&#8217; out
+of the open windows watchin&#8217; a thunder storm
+meander over towards Long Island, and Tidson
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span>
+was just servin&#8217; the demitasses, when there&#8217;s
+a ring on the &#8217;phone. Tidson, he puts down the
+tray and answers the call.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s from the office, sir,&#8221; says he. &#8220;Some
+one to see you, sir.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Me?&#8221; says I. &#8220;Get a description, Tidson,
+so I&#8217;ll know what to expect.&#8221;</p>
+<p>At that he asks the room clerk for details,
+and reports that it&#8217;s two young ladies by the
+name of Blickens.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What!&#8221; says Sadie, prickin&#8217; up her ears.
+&#8220;You don&#8217;t know any young women of that
+name; do you, Shorty?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why not?&#8221; says I. &#8220;How can I tell until
+I&#8217;ve looked &#8217;em over?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Humph!&#8221; says she. &#8220;Blickens!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sounds nice, don&#8217;t it?&#8221; says I. &#8220;Kind of
+snappy and interestin&#8217;. Maybe I&#8217;d better go
+down and&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tidson,&#8221; says Sadie, &#8220;tell them to send
+those young persons up here!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s right, Tidson,&#8221; says I. &#8220;Don&#8217;t
+mind anything I say.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Blickens, indeed!&#8221; says Sadie, eyin&#8217; me
+sharp, to see if I&#8217;m blushin&#8217; or gettin&#8217; nervous.
+&#8220;I never heard you mention any such name.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s a few points about my past life,&#8221;
+says I, &#8220;that I&#8217;ve had sense enough to keep
+to myself. Maybe this is one. Course, if your
+curiosity&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not a bit curious, Shorty McCabe,&#8221; she
+snaps out, &#8220;and you know it! But when it
+comes to&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The Misses Blickens,&#8221; says Tidson, holdin&#8217;
+back the draperies with one hand, and smotherin&#8217;
+a grin with the other.</p>
+<p>Say, you couldn&#8217;t blame him. What steps in
+is a couple of drippy females that look like
+they&#8217;d just been fished out of a tank. And bein&#8217;
+wet wa&#8217;n&#8217;t the worst of it. Even if they&#8217;d been
+dry, they must have looked bad enough; but in
+the soggy state they was the limit.</p>
+<p>They wa&#8217;n&#8217;t mates. One is tall and willowy,
+while the other is short and dumpy. And the
+fat one has the most peaceful face I ever saw
+outside of a pasture, with a reg&#8217;lar Holstein-Friesian
+set of eyes,&mdash;the round, calm, thoughtless
+kind. The fact that she&#8217;s chewin&#8217; gum
+helps out the dairy impression, too. It&#8217;s plain
+she&#8217;s been caught in the shower and has sopped
+up her full share of the rainfall; but it don&#8217;t
+seem to trouble her any.</p>
+<p>There ain&#8217;t anything pastoral about the tall
+one, though. She&#8217;s alive all the way from her
+runover heels to the wiggly end of the limp
+feather that flops careless like over one ear.
+She&#8217;s the long-waisted, giraffe-necked kind; but
+not such a bad looker if you can forget the depressin&#8217;
+costume. It had been a blue cheviot
+once, I guess; the sort that takes on seven
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span>
+shades of purple about the second season. And
+it fits her like a damp tablecloth hung on a chair.
+Her runnin&#8217; mate is all in black, and you could
+tell by the puckered seams and the twisted
+sleeves that it was an outfit the village dressmaker
+had done her worst on.</p>
+<p>Not that they gives us much chance for a
+close size-up. The lengthy one pikes right into
+the middle of the room, brushes a stringy lock
+of hair off her face, and unlimbers her conversation
+works.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gosh!&#8221; says she, openin&#8217; her eyes wide
+and lookin&#8217; round at the rugs and furniture.
+&#8220;Hope we haven&#8217;t pulled up at the wrong
+ranch. Are you Shorty McCabe?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Among old friends, I am,&#8221; says I, &#8220;Now
+if you come under&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s all right, Phemey,&#8221; says she, motionin&#8217;
+to the short one. &#8220;Sit down.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Don&#8217;t mind the furniture.
+Take a couple of chairs.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not for me!&#8221; says the tall one. &#8220;I&#8217;ll
+stand in one spot and drip, and then you can
+mop up afterwards. But Phemey, she&#8217;s plumb
+tuckered.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s sweet of you to run in,&#8221; says I. &#8220;Been
+wadin&#8217; in the park lake, or enjoyin&#8217; the
+shower?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Enjoying the shower is good,&#8221; says she;
+&#8220;but I hadn&#8217;t thought of describing it that
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span>
+way. I reckon, though, you&#8217;d like to hear who
+we are.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, any time when you get to that,&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s a joke, is it?&#8221; says she. &#8220;If it is,
+Ha, ha! Excuse me if I don&#8217;t laugh real
+hearty. I can do better when I don&#8217;t feel so
+much like a sponge. Maizie May Blickens is
+my name, and this is Euphemia Blickens.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Sisters?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do we look it?&#8221; says Maizie. &#8220;No!
+First cousins on the whiskered side. Ever
+hear that name Blickens before?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why&mdash;er&mdash;why&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; says I, scratchin&#8217; my
+head.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t dig too deep,&#8221; says Maizie. &#8220;How
+about Blickens&#8217; skating rink in Kansas City?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Was it run by a gent they
+called Sport Blickens?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It was,&#8221; says she.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, sure,&#8221; I goes on. &#8220;And the night I
+had my match there with the Pedlar, when I&#8217;d
+spent my last bean on a month&#8217;s trainin&#8217; expenses,
+and the Pedlar&#8217;s backer was wavin&#8217; a
+thousand-dollar side bet under my nose, this
+Mr. Blickens chucked me his roll and told me
+to call the bluff.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, that was dad, all right,&#8221; says Maizie.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It was?&#8221; says I. &#8220;Well, well! Now if
+there&#8217;s anything I can do for&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Whoa up!&#8221; says Maizie. &#8220;This is no
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span>
+grubstake touch. Let&#8217;s get that off our minds
+first, though I&#8217;m just as much obliged. It&#8217;s
+come out as dad said. Says he, &#8216;If you&#8217;re ever
+up against it, and can locate Shorty McCabe,
+you go to him and say who you are.&#8217; But this
+isn&#8217;t exactly that kind of a case. Phemey and
+I may look a bit rocky and&mdash;&mdash; Say, how do we
+look, anyway? Have you got such a thing as
+a&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tidson,&#8221; says Sadie, breakin&#8217; in, &#8220;you
+may roll in the pier glass for the young lady.&#8221;
+Course, that reminds me I ain&#8217;t done the honors.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Excuse me,&#8221; says I. &#8220;Miss Blickens, this
+is Mrs. McCabe.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Howdy,&#8221; says Maizie. &#8220;I was wondering
+if it wasn&#8217;t about due. Goshety gosh! but
+you&#8217;re all to the peaches, eh? And me&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Here she turns and takes a full length view of
+herself. &#8220;Suffering scarecrows! Say, why
+didn&#8217;t you put up the bars on us? Don&#8217;t you
+look, Phemey; you&#8217;d swallow your gum!&#8221;</p>
+<p>But Euphemia ain&#8217;t got any idea of turnin&#8217;
+her head. She has them peaceful eyes of hers
+glued to Sadie&#8217;s copper hair, and she&#8217;s contented
+to yank away at her cud. For a consistent
+and perseverin&#8217; masticator, she has our
+friend Fletcher chewed to a standstill. Maizie
+is soon satisfied with her survey.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;ll do, take it away,&#8221; says she. &#8220;If
+I ever get real stuck on myself, I&#8217;ll have something
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span>
+to remember. But, as I was sayin&#8217;, this
+is no case of an escape from the poor farm. We
+wore these Hetty Green togs when we left
+Dobie.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dobie?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Go on, laugh!&#8221; says Maizie. &#8220;Dobie&#8217;s
+the biggest joke and the slowest four corners in
+the State of Minnesota, and that&#8217;s putting it
+strong. Look at Phemey; she&#8217;s a native.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Well, we looked at Phemey. Couldn&#8217;t help
+it. Euphemia don&#8217;t seem to mind. She don&#8217;t
+even grin; but just goes on workin&#8217; her jaws
+and lookin&#8217; placid.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Out in Dobie that would pass for hysterics,&#8221;
+says Maizie. &#8220;The only way they
+could account for me was by saying that I was
+born crazy in another State. I&#8217;ve had a good
+many kinds of hard luck; but being born in
+Dobie wasn&#8217;t one of the varieties. Now can you
+stand the story of my life?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Miss Blickens,&#8221; says I, &#8220;I&#8217;m willin&#8217; to pay
+you by the hour.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It isn&#8217;t so bad as all that,&#8221; says she, &#8220;because
+precious little has ever happened to me.
+It&#8217;s what&#8217;s going to happen that I&#8217;m living for.
+But, to take a fair start, we&#8217;ll begin with dad.
+When they called him Sport Blickens, they
+didn&#8217;t stretch their imaginations. He was all
+that&mdash;and not much else. All I know about
+maw is that she was one of three, and that I was
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span>
+born in the back room of a Denver dance hall.
+I&#8217;ve got a picture of her, wearing tights and a
+tin helmet, and dad says she was a hummer.
+He ought to know; he was a pretty good judge.</p>
+<p>&#8220;As I wasn&#8217;t much over two days old when
+they had the funeral, I can&#8217;t add anything more
+about maw. And the history I could write of
+dad would make a mighty slim book. Running
+roller skating rinks was the most genteel business
+he ever got into, I guess. His regular profession
+was faro. It&#8217;s an unhealthy game,
+especially in those gold camps where they shoot
+so impetuous. He got over the effects of two .38&#8217;s
+dealt him by a halfbreed Sioux; but when
+a real bad man from Taunton, Massachusetts,
+opened up on him across the table with a .45, he
+just naturally got discouraged. Good old dad!
+He meant well when he left me in Dobie and
+had me adopted by Uncle Hen. Phemey, you
+needn&#8217;t listen to this next chapter.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Euphemia, she misses two jaw strokes in succession,
+rolls her eyes at Maizie May for a
+second, and then strikes her reg&#8217;lar gait again.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Excuse her getting excited like that,&#8221; says
+Maizie; &#8220;but Uncle Hen&mdash;that was her old
+man, of course&mdash;hasn&#8217;t been planted long. He
+lasted until three weeks ago. He was an awful
+good man, Uncle Hen was&mdash;to himself. He had
+the worst case of ingrowing religion you ever
+saw. Why, he had a thumb felon once, and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span>
+when the doctor came to lance it Uncle Hen
+made him wait until he could call in the minister,
+so it could be opened with prayer.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sundays he made us go to church twice,
+and the rest of the day he talked to us about
+our souls. Between times he ran the Palace
+Emporium; that is, he and I and a half baked
+Swede by the name of Jens Torkil did. To look
+at Jens you wouldn&#8217;t have thought he could
+have been taught the difference between a can
+of salmon and a patent corn planter; but say,
+Uncle Hen had him trained to make short
+change and weigh his hand with every piece of
+salt pork, almost as slick as he could do it
+himself.</p>
+<p>&#8220;All I had to do was to tend the drygoods,
+candy, and drug counters, look after the post-office
+window, keep the books, and manage the
+telephone exchange. Euphemia had the softest
+snap, though. She did the housework, planted
+the garden, raised chickens, fed the hogs, and
+scrubbed the floors. Have I got the catalogue
+right, Phemey?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Euphemia blinks twice, kind of reminiscent;
+but nothin&#8217; in the shape of words gets through
+the gum.</p>
+<p>&#8220;She has such an emotional nature!&#8221; says
+Maizie. &#8220;Uncle Hen was like that too. But
+let&#8217;s not linger over him. He&#8217;s gone. The last
+thing he did was to let go of a dollar fifty in
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span>
+cash that I held him up for so Phemey and I
+could go into Duluth and see a show. The end
+came early next day, and whether it was from
+shock or enlargement of the heart, no one will
+ever know.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It was an awful blow to us all. We went
+around in a daze for nearly a week, hardly daring
+to believe that it could be so. Jens broke
+the spell for us. One morning I caught him
+helping himself to a cigar out of the two-fer
+box. &#8216;Why not?&#8217; says he. Next Phemey
+walks in, swipes a package of wintergreen gum,
+and feeds it all in at once. She says, &#8216;Why
+not?&#8217; too. Then I woke up. &#8216;You&#8217;re right,&#8217;
+says I. &#8216;Enjoy yourself. It&#8217;s time.&#8217; Next I
+hints to her that there are bigger and brighter
+spots on this earth than Dobie, and asks her
+what she says to selling the Emporium and
+hunting them up. &#8216;I don&#8217;t care,&#8217; says she,
+and that was a good deal of a speech for her
+to make. &#8216;Do you leave it to me?&#8217; says I.
+&#8216;Uh-huh,&#8217; says she. &#8216;We-e-e-ough!&#8217; says I,&#8221;
+and with that Maizie lets out one of them backwoods
+college cries that brings Tidson up on
+his toes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I take it,&#8221; says I, &#8220;that you did.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did I?&#8221; says she. &#8220;Inside of three days
+I&#8217;d hustled up four different parties that
+wanted to invest in a going concern, and before
+the week was over I&#8217;d buncoed one of &#8217;em
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span>
+out of nine thousand in cash. Most of it&#8217;s in a
+certified check, sewed inside of Phemey, and
+that&#8217;s why we walked all the way up here in the
+rain. Do you suppose you could take me to
+some bank to-morrow where I could leave that
+and get a handful of green bills on account?
+Is that asking too much?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Considering the way you&#8217;ve brushed up my
+memory of Sport Blickens,&#8221; says I, &#8220;it&#8217;s real
+modest. Couldn&#8217;t you think of something
+else?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If that had come from Mrs. McCabe,&#8221; says
+she, eyin&#8217; Sadie kind of longin&#8217;, &#8220;I reckon I
+could.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why,&#8221; says Sadie, &#8220;I should be delighted.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You wouldn&#8217;t go so far as to lead two such
+freaks as us around to the stores and help us
+pick out some New York clothes, would you?&#8221;
+says she.</p>
+<p>&#8220;My dear girl!&#8221; says Sadie, grabbin&#8217; both
+her hands. &#8220;We&#8217;ll do it to-morrow.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Honest?&#8221; says Maizie, beamin&#8217; on her.
+&#8220;Well, that&#8217;s what I call right down decent.
+Phemey, do you hear that? Oh, swallow it,
+Phemey, swallow it! This is where we bloom
+out!&#8221;</p>
+<p>And say, you should have heard them talkin&#8217;
+over the kind of trousseaus that would best help
+a girl to forget she ever came from Dobie.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;You will need a neat cloth street dress, for
+afternoons,&#8221; says Sadie.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not for me!&#8221; says Maizie. &#8220;That&#8217;ll do
+all right for Phemey; but when it comes to me,
+I&#8217;ll take something that rustles. I&#8217;ve worn
+back number cast-offs for twenty-two years;
+now I&#8217;m ready for the other kind. I&#8217;ve been
+traveling so far behind the procession I couldn&#8217;t
+tell which way it was going. Now I&#8217;m going to
+give the drum major a view of my back hair.
+The sort of costumes I want are the kind that
+are designed this afternoon for day after to-morrow.
+If it&#8217;s checks, I&#8217;ll take two to the
+piece; if it&#8217;s stripes, I want to make a circus
+zebra look like a clipped mule. And I want a
+change for every day in the week.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But, my dear girl,&#8221; says Sadie, &#8220;can you
+afford to&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You bet I can!&#8221; says Maizie. &#8220;My share
+of Uncle Hen&#8217;s pile is forty-five hundred dollars,
+and while it lasts I&#8217;m going to have the
+lilies of the field looking like the flowers you
+see on attic wall paper. I don&#8217;t care what I
+have to eat, or where I stay; but when it comes
+to clothes, show me the limit! But say, I guess
+it&#8217;s time we were getting back to our boarding-house.
+Wake up, Phemey!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Well, I pilots &#8217;em out to Fifth-ave., stows &#8217;em
+into a motor stage, and heads &#8217;em down town.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Whew!&#8221; says Sadie, when I gets back. &#8220;I
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span>
+suppose that is a sample of Western breeziness.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s more&#8217;n a sample,&#8221; says I. &#8220;But I can
+see her finish, though. Inside of three months
+all she&#8217;ll have left to show for her wad will be
+a trunk full of fancy regalia and a board bill.
+Then it will be Maizie hunting a job in some
+beanery.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I shall talk her out of that nonsense,&#8221;
+says Sadie. &#8220;What she ought to do is to take
+a course in stenography and shorthand.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Yes, we laid out a full programme for Maizie,
+and had her earnin&#8217; her little twenty a week,
+with Phemey keepin&#8217; house for both of &#8217;em in
+a nice little four-room flat. And in the mornin&#8217;
+I helps her deposit the certified check, and then
+turns the pair over to Sadie for an assault on
+the department stores, with a call at a business
+college as a finish for the day, as we&#8217;d planned.</p>
+<p>When I gets home that night I finds Sadie all
+fagged out and drinkin&#8217; bromo seltzer for a
+headache.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s wrong?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing,&#8221; says Sadie; &#8220;only I&#8217;ve been
+having the time of my life.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Buying tailor made uniforms for the Misses
+Blickens?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tailor made nothing!&#8221; says Sadie. &#8220;It
+was no use, Shorty, I had to give in. Maizie
+wanted the other things so badly. And then
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span>
+Euphemia declared she must have the same
+kind. So I spent the whole day fitting them
+out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Got &#8217;em something sudden and noisy, eh?&#8221;
+says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just wait until you see them,&#8221; says Sadie.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But what&#8217;s the idea?&#8221; says I. &#8220;How
+long do they think they can keep up that pace?
+And when they&#8217;ve blown themselves short of
+breath, what then?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Heaven knows!&#8221; says Sadie. &#8220;But
+Maizie has plans of her own. When I mentioned
+the business college, she just laughed,
+and said if she couldn&#8217;t do something better
+than pound a typewriter, she&#8217;d go back to Dobie.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Huh!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Sentiments like that has
+got lots of folks into trouble.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And yet,&#8221; says Sadie, &#8220;Maizie&#8217;s a nice
+girl in her way. We&#8217;ll see how she comes out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>We did, too. It was a couple of weeks before
+we heard a word from either of &#8217;em, and then
+the other day Sadie gets a call over the &#8217;phone
+from a perfect stranger. She says she&#8217;s a Mrs.
+Herman Zorn, of West End-ave., and that she&#8217;s
+givin&#8217; a little roof garden theater party that
+evenin&#8217;, in honor of Miss Maizie Blickens, an
+old friend of hers that she used to know when
+she lived in St. Paul and spent her summers
+near Dobie. Also she understood we were
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span>
+friends of Miss Blickens too, and she&#8217;d be
+pleased to have us join.</p>
+<p>&#8220;West End-ave.!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Gee! but it
+looks like Maizie had been able to butt in. Do
+we go, Sadie?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I said we&#8217;d be charmed,&#8221; says she. &#8220;I&#8217;m
+dying to see how Maizie will look.&#8221;</p>
+<p>I didn&#8217;t admit it, but I was some curious that
+way myself; so about eight-fifteen we shows up
+at the roof garden and has an usher lead us to
+the bunch. There&#8217;s half a dozen of &#8217;em on
+hand; but the only thing worth lookin&#8217; at was
+Maizie May.</p>
+<p>And say, I thought I could make a guess as
+to somewhere near how she would frame up.
+The picture I had in mind was a sort of cross
+between a Grand-st. Rebecca and an Eighth-ave.
+Lizzie Maud,&mdash;you know, one of the near
+style girls, that&#8217;s got on all the novelties from
+ten bargain counters. But, gee! The view I
+gets has me gaspin&#8217;. Maizie wa&#8217;n&#8217;t near; she
+was two jumps ahead. And it wa&#8217;n&#8217;t any
+Grand-st. fashion plate that she was a livin&#8217;
+model of. It was Fifth-ave. and upper Broadway.
+Talk about your down-to-the-minute costumes!
+Say, maybe they&#8217;ll be wearin&#8217; dresses
+like that a year from now. And that hat! It
+wa&#8217;n&#8217;t a dream; it was a forecast.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We saw it unpacked from the Paris case,&#8221;
+whispers Sadie.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span></p>
+<p>All I know about it is that it was the widest,
+featheriest lid I ever saw in captivity, and it&#8217;s
+balanced on more hair puffs than you could put
+in a barrel. But what added the swell, artistic
+touch was the collar. It&#8217;s a chin supporter
+and ear embracer. I thought I&#8217;d seen high
+ones, but this twelve-inch picket fence around
+Maizie&#8217;s neck was the loftiest choker I ever saw
+anyone survive. To watch her wear it gave
+you the same sensations as bein&#8217; a witness at a
+hanging. How she could do it and keep on
+breathin&#8217;, I couldn&#8217;t make out; but it don&#8217;t seem
+to interfere with her talkin&#8217;.</p>
+<p>Sittin&#8217; close up beside her, and listenin&#8217; with
+both ears stretched and his mouth open, was
+a blond young gent with a bristly Bat Nelson
+pompadour. He&#8217;s rigged out in a silk faced
+tuxedo, a smoke colored, open face vest, and he
+has a big yellow orchid in his buttonhole. By
+the way he&#8217;s gazin&#8217; at Maizie, you could tell he
+approved of her from the ground up. She don&#8217;t
+hesitate any on droppin&#8217; him, though, when we
+arrives.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello!&#8221; says she. &#8220;Ripping good of you
+to come. Well, what do you think? I&#8217;ve got
+some of &#8217;em on, you see. What&#8217;s the effect?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Stunning!&#8221; says Sadie.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thanks,&#8221; says Maizie. &#8220;I laid out to get
+somewhere near that. And, gosh! but it feels
+good! These are the kind of togs I was born to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span>
+wear. Phemey? Oh, she&#8217;s laid up with arnica
+bandages around her throat. I told her she
+mustn&#8217;t try to chew gum with one of these
+collars on.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Say, Maizie,&#8221; says I, &#8220;who&#8217;s the Sir Lionel
+Budweiser, and where did you pick him
+up?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Oscar!&#8221; says she. &#8220;Why, he found
+me. He&#8217;s from St. Paul, nephew of Mrs. Zorn,
+who&#8217;s visiting her. Brewer&#8217;s son, you know.
+Money? They&#8217;ve got bales of it. Hey, Oscar!&#8221;
+says she, snappin&#8217; her finger. &#8220;Come
+over here and show yourself!&#8221;</p>
+<p>And say, he was trained, all right. He trots
+right over.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Would you take him, if you was me?&#8221; says
+Maizie, turnin&#8217; him round for us to make an inspection.
+&#8220;I told him I wouldn&#8217;t say positive
+until I had shown him to you, Mrs. McCabe.
+He&#8217;s a little under height, and I don&#8217;t like the
+way his hair grows; but his habits are good, and
+his allowance is thirty thousand a year. How
+about him? Will he do?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why&mdash;why&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; says Sadie, and it&#8217;s one of
+the few times I ever saw her rattled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just flash that ring again, Oscar,&#8221; says
+Maizie.</p>
+<p>&#8220;O-o-oh!&#8221; says Sadie, when Oscar has
+pulled out the white satin box and snapped back
+the cover. &#8220;What a beauty! Yes, Maizie, I
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span>
+should say that, if you like Oscar, he would do
+nicely.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That goes!&#8221; says Maizie. &#8220;Here, Occie
+dear, slide it on. But remember: Phemey has
+got to live with us until I can pick out some
+victim of nervous prostration that needs a wife
+like her. And for goodness&#8217; sake, Occie, give
+that waiter an order for something wet!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well!&#8221; says Sadie afterwards, lettin&#8217; out
+a long breath. &#8220;To think that we ever worried
+about her!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s a little bit of all right, eh?&#8221; says I.
+&#8220;But say, I&#8217;m glad I ain&#8217;t Occie, the heir to
+the brewery. I wouldn&#8217;t know whether I was
+engaged to Maizie, or caught in a belt.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='III_WHERE_SPOTTY_FITTED_IN' id='III_WHERE_SPOTTY_FITTED_IN'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER III</h2>
+<h3>WHERE SPOTTY FITTED IN</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Also we have a few home-grown varieties
+that ain&#8217;t listed frequent. And the pavement
+products are apt to have most as queer kinks
+to &#8217;em as those from the plowed fields. Now
+take Spotty.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gee! what a merry look!&#8221; says I to Pinckney
+as he floats into the studio here the other
+day. He&#8217;s holdin&#8217; his chin high, and he&#8217;s got
+his stick tucked up under his arm, and them
+black eyes of his is just sparklin&#8217;. &#8220;What&#8217;s it
+all about?&#8221; I goes on. &#8220;Is it a good one
+you&#8217;ve just remembered, or has something
+humorous happened to one of your best
+friends?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have a new idea,&#8221; says he, &#8220;that&#8217;s all.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Why, that&#8217;s excuse
+enough for declarin&#8217; a gen&#8217;ral holiday. Did
+you go after it, or was it delivered by mistake?
+Can&#8217;t you give us a scenario of it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, I&#8217;ve thought of something new for
+Spotty Cahill,&#8221; says he, beamin&#8217;.</p>
+<p>&#8220;G&#8217;wan!&#8221; says I. &#8220;I might have known it
+was a false alarm. Spotty Cahill! Say, do
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span>
+you want to know what I&#8217;d advise you to do for
+Spotty next?&#8221;</p>
+<p>No, Pinckney don&#8217;t want my views on the
+subject. It&#8217;s a topic we&#8217;ve threshed out between
+us before; also it&#8217;s one of the few dozen
+that we could debate from now until there&#8217;s
+skatin&#8217; on the Panama Canal, without gettin&#8217;
+anywhere. I&#8217;ve always held that Spotty Cahill
+was about the most useless and undeservin&#8217;
+human being that ever managed to exist without
+work; but to hear Pinckney talk you&#8217;d think
+that long-legged, carroty-haired young loafer
+was the original party that philanthropy was
+invented for.</p>
+<p>Now, doing things for other folks ain&#8217;t one
+of Pinckney&#8217;s strong points, as a rule. Not
+that he wouldn&#8217;t if he thought of it and could
+find the time; but gen&#8217;rally he has too many
+other things on his schedule to indulge much
+in the little deeds of kindness game. When he
+does start out to do good, though, he makes a
+job of it. But look who he picks out!</p>
+<p>Course, I knew why. He&#8217;s explained all that
+to me more&#8217;n once. Seems there was an old
+waiter at the club, a quiet, soft-spoken, bald-headed
+relic, who had served him with more
+lobster Newburg than you could load on a
+scow, and enough highballs to float the <i>Mauretania</i>
+in. In fact, he&#8217;d been waitin&#8217; there as
+long as Pinckney had been a member. They&#8217;d
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span>
+been kind of chummy, in a way, too. It had always
+been &#8220;Good morning, Peter,&#8221; and &#8220;Hope
+I see you well, sir,&#8221; between them, and Pinckney
+never had to bother about whether he liked
+a dash of bitters in this, or if that ought to
+be served frappe or plain. Peter knew, and
+Peter never forgot.</p>
+<p>Then one day when Pinckney&#8217;s just squarin&#8217;
+off to his lunch he notices that he&#8217;s been given
+plain, ordinary salt butter instead of the sweet
+kind he always has; so he puts up a finger to
+call Peter over and have a swap made. When
+he glances up, though, he finds Peter ain&#8217;t there
+at all.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I say,&#8221; says he, &#8220;but where is
+Peter?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Peter, sir?&#8221; says the new man. &#8220;Very
+sorry, sir, but Peter&#8217;s dead.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dead!&#8221; says Pinckney. &#8220;Why&mdash;why&mdash;how
+long has that been?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Over a month, sir,&#8221; says he. &#8220;Anything
+wrong, sir?&#8221;</p>
+<p>To be sure, Pinckney hadn&#8217;t been there reg&#8217;lar;
+but he&#8217;d been in off and on, and when he
+comes to think how this old chap, that knew
+all his whims, and kept track of &#8217;em so faithful,
+had dropped out without his ever having heard
+a word about it&mdash;why, he felt kind of broke up.
+You see, he&#8217;d always meant to do something nice
+for old Peter; but he&#8217;d never got round to it,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span>
+and here the first thing he knows Peter&#8217;s been
+under the sod for more&#8217;n a month.</p>
+<p>That&#8217;s what set Pinckney to inquirin&#8217; if Peter
+hadn&#8217;t left a fam&#8217;ly or anything, which results
+in his diggin&#8217; up this Spotty youth. I
+forgot just what his first name was, it being
+something outlandish that don&#8217;t go with Cahill
+at all; but it seems he was born over in India,
+where old Peter was soldierin&#8217; at the time, and
+they&#8217;d picked up one of the native names. Maybe
+that&#8217;s what ailed the boy from the start.</p>
+<p>Anyway, Peter had come back from there a
+widower, drifted to New York with the youngster,
+and got into the waiter business. Meantime
+the boy grows up in East Side boardin&#8217;-houses,
+without much lookin&#8217; after, and when
+Pinckney finds him he&#8217;s an int&#8217;restin&#8217; product.
+He&#8217;s twenty-odd, about five feet eleven high,
+weighs under one hundred and thirty, has a
+shock of wavy, brick-red hair that almost hides
+his ears, and his chief accomplishments are
+playin&#8217; Kelly pool and consumin&#8217; cigarettes.
+By way of ornament he has the most complete
+collection of freckles I ever see on a human
+face, or else it was they stood out more prominent
+because the skin was so white between the
+splotches. We didn&#8217;t invent the name Spotty
+for him. He&#8217;d already been tagged that.</p>
+<p>Well, Pinckney discovers that Spotty has been
+livin&#8217; on the few dollars that was left after
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span>
+payin&#8217; old Peter&#8217;s plantin&#8217; expenses; that he
+didn&#8217;t know what he was goin&#8217; to do after that
+was gone, and didn&#8217;t seem to care. So Pinckney
+jumps in, works his pull with the steward,
+and has Spotty put on reg&#8217;lar in the club billiard
+room as an attendant. All he has to do is help
+with the cleanin&#8217;, keep the tables brushed, and
+set up the balls when there are games goin&#8217; on.
+He gets his meals free, and six dollars a week.</p>
+<p>Now that should have been a soft enough
+snap for anybody, even the born tired kind.
+There wa&#8217;n&#8217;t work enough in it to raise a palm
+callous on a baby. But Spotty, he improves on
+that. His idea of earnin&#8217; wages is to curl up
+in a sunny windowseat and commune with his
+soul. Wherever you found the sun streamin&#8217;
+in, there was a good place to look for Spotty.
+He just seemed to soak it up, like a blotter does
+ink, and it didn&#8217;t disturb him any who was
+doin&#8217; his work.</p>
+<p>Durin&#8217; the first six months Spotty was fired
+eight times, only to have Pinckney get him reinstated,
+and it wa&#8217;n&#8217;t until the steward went to
+the board of governors with the row that Mr.
+Cahill was given his permanent release. You
+might think Pinckney would have called it quits
+then; but not him! He&#8217;d started out to godfather
+Spotty, and he stays right with the
+game. Everybody he knew was invited to help
+along the good work of givin&#8217; Spotty a lift. He
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span>
+got him into brokers&#8217; offices, tried him out as
+bellhop in four diff&#8217;rent hotels, and even
+jammed him by main strength into a bank; but
+Spotty&#8217;s sun absorbin&#8217; habits couldn&#8217;t seem to
+be made useful anywhere.</p>
+<p>For one while he got chummy with Swifty
+Joe and took to sunnin&#8217; himself in the studio
+front windows, until I had to veto that.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t mind your friends droppin&#8217; in now
+and then, Swifty,&#8221; says I; &#8220;but there ain&#8217;t
+any room here for statuary. I don&#8217;t care how
+gentle you break it to him, only run him out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>So that&#8217;s why I don&#8217;t enthuse much when
+Pinckney says he&#8217;s thought up some new
+scheme for Spotty. &#8220;Goin&#8217; to have him
+probed for hookworms?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>No, that ain&#8217;t it. Pinckney, he&#8217;s had a talk
+with Spotty and discovered that old Peter had
+a brother Aloysius, who&#8217;s settled somewhere
+up in Canada and is superintendent of a big
+wheat farm. Pinckney&#8217;s had his lawyers trace
+out this Uncle Aloysius, and then he&#8217;s written
+him all about Spotty, suggestin&#8217; that he send for
+him by return mail.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fine!&#8221; says I. &#8220;He&#8217;d be a lot of use on
+a wheat farm. What does Aloysius have to
+say to the proposition?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, the fact is,&#8221; says Pinckney, &#8220;he
+doesn&#8217;t appear at all enthusiastic. He writes
+that if the boy is anything like Peter when he
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span>
+knew him he&#8217;s not anxious to see him. However,
+he says that if Spotty comes on he will
+do what he can for him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;ll be a long walk,&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s where my idea comes in,&#8221; says
+Pinckney. &#8220;I am going to finance the trip.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If it don&#8217;t cost too much,&#8221; says I, &#8220;it&#8217;ll be
+a good investment.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Pinckney wants to do the thing right away,
+too. First off, though, he has to locate Spotty.
+The youth has been at large for a week or more
+now, since he was last handed the fresh air,
+and Pinckney ain&#8217;t heard a word from him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe Swifty knows where he roosts,&#8221;
+says I.</p>
+<p>It was a good guess. Swifty gives us a number
+on Fourth-ave. where he&#8217;d seen Spotty
+hangin&#8217; around lately, and he thinks likely he&#8217;s
+there yet.</p>
+<p>So me and Pinckney starts out on the trail.
+It leads us to one of them Turkish auction
+joints where they sell genuine silk oriental
+prayer rugs, made in Paterson, N. J., with hammered
+brass bowls and antique guns as a side
+line. And, sure enough, camped down in front
+on a sample rug, with his hat off and the sun
+full on him, is our friend Spotty.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, well!&#8221; says Pinckney. &#8220;Regularly
+employed here, are you, Spotty?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Me? Nah!&#8221; says Spotty, lookin&#8217; disgusted
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span>
+at the thought. &#8220;I&#8217;m only stayin&#8217;
+around.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ain&#8217;t you afraid the sun will fade them
+curly locks of yours?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, quit your kiddin&#8217;!&#8221; says Spotty,
+startin&#8217; to roll a fresh cigarette.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t mind Shorty,&#8221; says Pinckney. &#8220;I
+have some good news for you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>That don&#8217;t excite Spotty a bit. &#8220;Not another
+job!&#8221; he groans.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, no,&#8221; says Pinckney, and then he explains
+about finding Uncle Aloysius, windin&#8217; up
+by askin&#8217; Spotty how he&#8217;d like to go up there
+and live.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; says Spotty. &#8220;Good ways
+off, ain&#8217;t it!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is, rather,&#8221; admits Pinckney; &#8220;but that
+need not trouble you. What do you think I
+am going to do for you, Spotty?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Give it up,&#8221; says he, calmly lightin&#8217; a match
+and proceedin&#8217; with the smoke.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; says Pinckney, &#8220;because of the
+long and faithful service of your father, and the
+many little personal attentions he paid me, I
+am going to give you&mdash;&mdash; Wait! Here it is
+now,&#8221; and hanged if Pinckney don&#8217;t fork over
+ten new twenty-dollar bills. &#8220;There!&#8221; says
+he. &#8220;That ought to be enough to fit you out
+well and take you there in good shape. Here&#8217;s
+the address too.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span></p>
+<p>Does Spotty jump up and crack his heels together
+and sputter out how thankful he is?
+Nothin&#8217; so strenuous. He fumbles the bills
+over curious for a minute, then wads &#8217;em up
+and jams &#8217;em into his pocket. &#8220;Much
+obliged,&#8221; says he.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come around to Shorty&#8217;s with your new
+clothes on to-morrow afternoon about four
+o&#8217;clock,&#8221; says Pinckney, &#8220;and let us see how
+you look. And&mdash;er&mdash;by the way, Spotty, is
+that a friend of yours?&#8221;</p>
+<p>I&#8217;d been noticin&#8217; her too, standin&#8217; just inside
+the doorway pipin&#8217; us off. She&#8217;s a slim, big-eyed,
+black-haired young woman, dressed in the
+height of Grand-st. fashion, and wearin&#8217; a lot
+of odd, cheap lookin&#8217; jewelry. If it hadn&#8217;t been
+for the straight nose and the thin lips you might
+have guessed that her first name was Rebecca.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, her?&#8221; says Spotty, turnin&#8217; languid to
+see who he meant. &#8220;That&#8217;s Mareena. Her
+father runs the shop.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Armenian?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, Syrian,&#8221; says he.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Quite some of a looker, eh?&#8221; says I, tryin&#8217;
+to sound him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not so bad,&#8221; says Spotty, hunchin&#8217; his
+shoulders.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But&mdash;er&mdash;do I understand,&#8221; says Pinckney,
+&#8220;that there is&mdash;ah&mdash;some attachment between
+you and&mdash;er&mdash;the young lady?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Blamed if I know,&#8221; says Spotty. &#8220;Better
+ask her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Course, we couldn&#8217;t very well do that, and as
+Spotty don&#8217;t seem bubblin&#8217; over with information
+he has to chop it off there. Pinckney,
+though, is more or less int&#8217;rested in the situation.
+He wonders if he&#8217;s done just right,
+handin&#8217; over all that money to Spotty in a
+place like that.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It wa&#8217;n&#8217;t what you&#8217;d call a shrewd move,&#8221;
+says I. &#8220;Seems to me I&#8217;d bought his ticket,
+anyway.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes; but I wanted to get it off my mind,
+you know,&#8221; says he. &#8220;Odd, though, his being
+there. I wonder what sort of persons those
+Syrians are!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You never can tell,&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>The more Pinckney thinks of it, the more uneasy
+he gets, and when four o&#8217;clock comes next
+day, with no Spotty showin&#8217; up, he begins to
+have furrows in his brow. &#8220;If he&#8217;s been done
+away with, it&#8217;s my fault,&#8221; says Pinckney.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, don&#8217;t start worryin&#8217; yet,&#8221; says I.
+&#8220;Give him time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>By five o&#8217;clock, though, Pinckney has
+imagined all sorts of things,&mdash;Spotty bein&#8217;
+found carved up and sewed in a sack, and him
+called into court to testify as to where he saw
+him last. &#8220;And all because I gave him that
+money!&#8221; he groans.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Say, can it!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Them sensation
+pictures of yours are makin&#8217; me nervous. Here,
+I&#8217;ll go down and see if they&#8217;ve finished wipin&#8217;
+off the daggers, while you send Swifty out after
+something soothin&#8217;.&#8221;</p>
+<p>With that off I hikes as a rescue expedition.
+I finds the red flag still out, the sample rug
+still in place; but there&#8217;s no Spotty in evidence.
+Neither is there any sign of the girl. So I
+walks into the store, gazin&#8217; around sharp for
+any stains on the floor.</p>
+<p>Out from behind a curtain at the far end of
+the shop comes a fat, wicked lookin&#8217; old pirate,
+with a dark greasy face and shiny little eyes
+like a pair of needles. He&#8217;s wearin&#8217; a dinky
+gold-braided cap, baggy trousers, and he carries
+a long pipe in one hand. If he didn&#8217;t look
+like he&#8217;d do extemporaneous surgery for the
+sake of a dollar bill, then I&#8217;m no judge. I&#8217;ve
+got in too far to look up a cop, so I takes a
+chance on a strong bluff.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Say, you!&#8221; I sings out. &#8220;What&#8217;s happened
+to Spotty?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Spot-tee?&#8221; says he. &#8220;Spot-tee?&#8221; He
+shrugs his shoulders and pretends to look
+dazed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Spotty,&#8221; says I, &#8220;red-headed, freckle-faced
+young gent. You know him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah!&#8221; says he, tappin&#8217; his head. &#8220;The
+golden crowned! El Sareef Ka-heel?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s the name, Cahill,&#8221; says I. &#8220;He&#8217;s
+a friend of a friend of mine, and you might as
+well get it through your nut right now that if
+anything&#8217;s happened to him&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You are a friend of Sareef Ka-heel?&#8221; he
+breaks in, eyin&#8217; me suspicious.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Once removed,&#8221; says I; &#8220;but it amounts to
+the same thing. Now where is he?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;For a friend&mdash;well, I know not,&#8221; says the
+old boy, kind of hesitatin&#8217;. Then, with another
+shrug, he makes up his mind. &#8220;So it shall be.
+Come. You shall see the Sareef.&#8221;</p>
+<p>At that he beckons me to follow and starts
+towards the back. I went through one dark
+room, expectin&#8217; to feel a knife in my ribs every
+minute, and then we goes through another. Next
+thing I knew we&#8217;re out in a little back yard, half
+full of empty cases and crates. In the middle
+of a clear space is a big brown tent, with the
+flap pinned back.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Here,&#8221; says the old gent, &#8220;your friend, the
+Sareef Ka-heel!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Say, for a minute I thought it was a trap he&#8217;s
+springin&#8217; on me; but after I&#8217;d looked long
+enough I see who he&#8217;s pointin&#8217; at. The party
+inside is squattin&#8217; cross-legged on a rug, holdin&#8217;
+the business end of one of these water bottle
+pipes in his mouth. He&#8217;s wearin&#8217; some kind of
+a long bath robe, and most of his red hair is
+concealed by yards of white cloth twisted round
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span>
+his head; but it&#8217;s Spotty all right, alive, uncarved,
+and lookin&#8217; happy and contented.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, for the love of soup!&#8221; says I.
+&#8220;What is it, a masquerade?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That you, McCabe?&#8221; says he. &#8220;Come in
+and&mdash;and sit on the floor.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Say,&#8221; says I, steppin&#8217; inside, &#8220;this ain&#8217;t
+the costume you&#8217;re going to start for Canada
+in, is it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, forget Canada!&#8221; says he. &#8220;I&#8217;ve got
+that proposition beat a mile. Hey, Hazzam,&#8221;
+and he calls to the old pirate outside, &#8220;tell
+Mrs. Cahill to come down and be introduced!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s that?&#8221; says I. &#8220;You&mdash;you ain&#8217;t
+been gettin&#8217; married, have you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yep,&#8221; says Spotty, grinnin&#8217; foolish. &#8220;Nine
+o&#8217;clock last night. We&#8217;re goin&#8217; to start on our
+weddin&#8217; trip Tuesday, me and Mareena.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mareena!&#8221; I gasps. &#8220;Not the&mdash;the one
+we saw out front? Where you going, Niagara?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nah! Syria, wherever that is,&#8221; says he.
+&#8220;Mareena knows. We&#8217;re goin&#8217; to live over
+there and buy rugs. That two hundred was
+just what we needed to set us up in business.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Think you&#8217;ll like it?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure!&#8221; says he. &#8220;She says it&#8217;s fine.
+There&#8217;s deserts over there, and you travel for
+days and days, ridin&#8217; on bloomin&#8217; camels.
+Here&#8217;s the tent we&#8217;re goin&#8217; to live in. I&#8217;m
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span>
+practisin&#8217; up. Gee! but this pipe is somethin&#8217;
+fierce, though! Oh, here she is! Say, Mareena,
+this is Mr. McCabe, that I was tellin&#8217;
+you about.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Well, honest, I wouldn&#8217;t have known her for
+the same girl. She&#8217;s changed that Grand-st.
+uniform for a native outfit, and while it&#8217;s a
+little gaudy in color, hanged if it ain&#8217;t becomin&#8217;!
+For a desert bride I should say she had some
+class.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; says I, &#8220;so you and Spotty are
+goin&#8217; to leave us, eh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, yes!&#8221; says she, them big black eyes
+of hers lightin&#8217; up. &#8220;We go where the sky is
+high and blue and the sun is big and hot. We
+go back to the wide white desert where I was
+born. All day we shall ride toward the purple
+hills, and sleep at night under the still stars.
+He knows. I have told him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s right,&#8221; says Spotty. &#8220;It&#8217;ll be all
+to the good, that. Mareena can cook too.&#8221;</p>
+<p>To prove it, she makes coffee and hands it
+around in little brass cups. Also there&#8217;s cakes,
+and the old man comes in, smilin&#8217; and rubbin&#8217;
+his hands, and we has a real sociable time.</p>
+<p>And these was the folks I&#8217;d suspected of
+wantin&#8217; to carve up Spotty! Why, by the looks
+I saw thrown at him by them two, I knew
+they thought him the finest thing that ever happened.
+Just by the way Mareena reached out
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span>
+sly to pat his hair when she passed, you could
+see how it was.</p>
+<p>So I wished &#8217;em luck and hurried back to report
+before Pinckney sent a squad of reserves
+after me.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well!&#8221; says he, the minute I gets in. &#8220;Let
+me know the worst at once.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I will,&#8221; says I. &#8220;He&#8217;s married.&#8221; It was
+all I could do, too, to make him believe the
+yarn.</p>
+<p>&#8220;By Jove!&#8221; says he. &#8220;Think of a chap
+like Spotty Cahill tumbling into a romance like
+that! And on Fourth-ave!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It ain&#8217;t so well advertised as some other
+lanes in this town,&#8221; says I; &#8220;but it&#8217;s a great
+street. Say, what puzzled me most about the
+whole business, though, was the new name they
+had for Spotty. Sareef! What in blazes does
+that mean?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Probably a title of some sort,&#8221; says Pinckney.
+&#8220;Like sheik, I suppose.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But what does a Sareef have to do?&#8221;
+says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do!&#8221; says Pinckney. &#8220;Why, he&#8217;s boss
+of the caravan. He&mdash;he sits around in the sun
+and looks picturesque.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then that settles it,&#8221; says I. &#8220;Spotty&#8217;s
+qualified. I never thought there was any place
+where he&#8217;d fit in; but, if your description&#8217;s correct,
+he&#8217;s found the job he was born for.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='IV_A_GRANDMOTHER_WHO_GOT_GOING' id='IV_A_GRANDMOTHER_WHO_GOT_GOING'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+<h3>A GRANDMOTHER WHO GOT GOING</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Ever go on a grandmother hunt through the
+Red Ink District? Well, it ain&#8217;t a reg&#8217;lar
+amusement of mine, but it has its good points.
+Maybe I wouldn&#8217;t have tackled it at all if I
+hadn&#8217;t begun by lettin&#8217; myself get int&#8217;rested in
+Vincent&#8217;s domestic affairs.</p>
+<p>Now what I knew about this Vincent chap
+before we starts out on the grandmother trail
+wouldn&#8217;t take long to tell. He wa&#8217;n&#8217;t any special
+friend of mine. For one thing, he wears his
+hair cut plush. Course, it&#8217;s his hair, and if he
+wants to train it to stand up on top like a
+clothes brush or a blacking dauber, who am I
+that should curl the lip of scorn?</p>
+<p>Just the same, I never could feel real chummy
+towards anyone that sported one of them self
+raisin&#8217; crests. Vincent wa&#8217;n&#8217;t one of the
+chummy kind, though. He&#8217;s one of these stiff
+backed, black haired, brown eyed, quick motioned,
+sharp spoken ducks, that wants what he
+wants when he wants it. You know. He comes
+to the studio reg&#8217;lar, does his forty-five minutes&#8217;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span>
+work, and gets out without swappin&#8217; any more
+conversation than is strictly necessary.</p>
+<p>All the information I had picked up about
+him was that he hailed from up the State somewhere,
+and that soon after he struck New York
+he married one of the Chetwood girls. And
+that takes more or less capital to start with.
+Guess Vincent had it; for I hear his old man
+left him quite a wad and that now he&#8217;s the
+main guy of a threshin&#8217; machine trust, or something
+like that. Anyway, Vincent belongs in
+the four-cylinder plute class, and he&#8217;s beginnin&#8217;
+to be heard of among the alimony aristocracy.</p>
+<p>But this ain&#8217;t got anything to do with the
+way he happened to get confidential all so sudden.
+He&#8217;d been havin&#8217; a kid pillow mix-up
+with Swifty Joe, just as lively as if the thermometer
+was down to thirty instead of up to
+ninety, and he&#8217;s just had his rub down and got
+into his featherweight serge, when in drifts this
+Rodney Kipp that&#8217;s figurin&#8217; so strong on the
+defense side of them pipe line cases.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, Vincent!&#8221; says he.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello, Rodney!&#8221; says Vincent as they
+passes each other in the front office, one goin&#8217;
+out and the other comin&#8217; in.</p>
+<p>I&#8217;d never happened to see &#8217;em meet before,
+and I&#8217;m some surprised that they&#8217;re so well acquainted.
+Don&#8217;t know why, either, unless it is
+that they&#8217;re so different. Rodney, you know,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span>
+is one of these light complected heavyweights,
+and a swell because he was born so. I was wonderin&#8217;
+if Rodney was one of Vincent&#8217;s lawyers,
+or if they just belonged to the same clubs;
+when Mr. Kipp swings on his heel and says:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, by the way, Vincent, how is grammy?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why!&#8221; says Vincent, &#8220;isn&#8217;t she out with
+you and Nellie?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; says Rodney, &#8220;she stayed with us
+only for a couple of days. Nellie said she
+hadn&#8217;t heard from her for nearly two months,
+and told me to ask you about her. So long.
+I&#8217;m due for some medicine ball work,&#8221; and
+with that he drifts into the gym. and shuts the
+door.</p>
+<p>Vincent, he stands lookin&#8217; after him with a
+kind of worried look on his face that was
+comical to see on such a cocksure chap as
+him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lost somebody, have you?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why&mdash;er&mdash;I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; says Vincent,
+runnin&#8217; his fingers through the bristles that
+waves above his noble brow. &#8220;It&#8217;s grandmother.
+I can&#8217;t imagine where she can be.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You must have grandmothers to burn,&#8221;
+says I, &#8220;if they&#8217;re so plenty with you that you
+can mislay one now and then without missin&#8217;
+her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eh?&#8221; says he. &#8220;No, no! She is really
+my mother, you know. I&#8217;ve got into the way
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span>
+of calling her grammy only during the last
+three or four years.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I see!&#8221; says I. &#8220;The grandmother
+habit is something she&#8217;s contracted comparative
+recent, eh? Ain&#8217;t gone to her head, has
+it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Vincent couldn&#8217;t say; but by the time he&#8217;s
+quit tryin&#8217; to explain what has happened I&#8217;ve
+got the whole story. First off he points out
+that Rodney Kipp, havin&#8217; married his sister
+Nellie, is his brother-in-law, and, as they both
+have a couple of youngsters, it makes Vincent&#8217;s
+mother a grammy in both families.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure,&#8221; says I. &#8220;I know how that works
+out. She stays part of the time with you, and
+makes herself mighty popular with your kids;
+then she takes her trunk over to Rodney&#8217;s and
+goes through the same performance there. And
+when she goes visitin&#8217; other places there&#8217;s a
+great howl all round. That&#8217;s it, ain&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>It wa&#8217;n&#8217;t, not within a mile, and I&#8217;d showed
+up my low, common breedin&#8217; by suggesting such
+a thing. As gently as he could without hurtin&#8217;
+my feelin&#8217;s too much, Vincent explains that
+while my programme might be strictly camel&#8217;s
+foot for ordinary people, the domestic arrangements
+of the upper classes was run on different
+lines. For instance, his little Algernon
+Chetwood could speak nothing but French, that
+bein&#8217; the brand of governess he&#8217;d always had,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span>
+and so he naturally couldn&#8217;t be very thick with
+a grandmother that didn&#8217;t understand a word
+of his lingo.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Besides,&#8221; says Vincent, &#8220;mother and my
+wife, I regret to say, have never found each
+other very congenial.&#8221;</p>
+<p>I might have guessed it if I&#8217;d stopped to
+think of how an old lady from the country would
+hitch with one of them high flyin&#8217; Chetwood
+girls.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then she hangs out with your sister, eh,
+and does her grandmother act there?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, hardly,&#8221; says Vincent, colorin&#8217; up a
+little. &#8220;You see, Rodney has never been very
+intimate with the rest of our family. He&#8217;s a
+Kipp, and&mdash;&mdash; Well, you can&#8217;t blame him; for
+mother is rather old-fashioned. Of course,
+she&#8217;s good and kind-hearted and all that; but&mdash;but
+there isn&#8217;t much style about her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Still sticks to the polonaise of &#8217;81, and
+wears a straw lid she bought durin&#8217; the Centennial,
+eh?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>Vincent says that about tells the story.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And where is it she&#8217;s been livin&#8217; all this
+time that you&#8217;ve been gettin&#8217; on so well in New
+York?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;In our old home, Tonawanda,&#8221; says he,
+shudderin&#8217; some as he lets go of the name.
+&#8220;It&#8217;s where she should have stayed, too!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;So-o-o-o?&#8221; says I. I&#8217;d been listenin&#8217; just
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span>
+out of politeness up to that point; but from then
+on I got int&#8217;rested, and I don&#8217;t let up until I&#8217;ve
+pumped out of him all the details about just how
+much of a nuisance an old, back number mother
+could be to a couple of ambitious young folks
+that had grown up and married into the swell
+mob.</p>
+<p>It was a case that ought to be held up as a
+warnin&#8217; to lots of superfluous old mothers that
+ain&#8217;t got any better taste than to keep on livin&#8217;
+long after there&#8217;s any use for &#8217;em. Mother
+Vincent hadn&#8217;t made much trouble at first, for
+she&#8217;d had an old maid sister to take care of;
+but when a bad case of the grip got Aunt
+Sophrony durin&#8217; the previous winter, mother
+was left sort of floatin&#8217; around.</p>
+<p>She tried visitin&#8217; back and forth between Vincent
+and Nellie just one consecutive trip, and
+the experiment was such a frost that it caused
+ructions in both families. In her Tonawanda
+regalia mother wa&#8217;n&#8217;t an exhibit that any English
+butler could be expected to pass the soup
+to and still keep a straight face.</p>
+<p>So Vincent thinks it&#8217;s time to anchor her permanent
+somewhere. Accordin&#8217; to his notion, he
+did the handsome thing too. He buys her a
+nice little farm about a mile outside of Tonawanda,
+a place with a fine view of the railroad
+tracks on the west and a row of brick yards to
+the east, and he lands mother there with a
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span>
+toothless old German housekeeper for company.
+He tells her he&#8217;s settled a good comfortable income
+on her for life, and leaves her to enjoy
+herself.</p>
+<p>But look at the ingratitude a parent can work
+up! She ain&#8217;t been there more&#8217;n a couple of
+months before she begins complainin&#8217; about
+bein&#8217; lonesome. She don&#8217;t see much of the
+Tonawanda folks now, the housekeeper ain&#8217;t
+very sociable, the smoke from the brick yards
+yellows her Monday wash, and the people she
+sees goin&#8217; by in the cars is all strangers.
+Couldn&#8217;t Vincent swap the farm for one near
+New York? She liked the looks of the place
+when she was there, and wouldn&#8217;t mind being
+closer.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course,&#8221; says he, &#8220;that was out of the
+question!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, sure!&#8221; says I. &#8220;How absurd! But
+what&#8217;s the contents of this late bulletin about
+her being a stray?&#8221;</p>
+<p>It was nothing more or less than that the
+old girl had sold up the farm a couple of months
+back, fired the housekeeper, and quietly skipped
+for New York. Vincent had looked for her to
+show up at his house, and when she didn&#8217;t he
+figured she must have gone to Nellie&#8217;s. It was
+only when Rodney Kipp fires the grammy question
+at him that he sees he&#8217;s made a wrong
+calculation and begins havin&#8217; cold feet.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;If she&#8217;s here, alone in New York, there&#8217;s
+no knowing what may be happening to her,&#8221;
+says he. &#8220;Why, she knows nothing about the
+city, nothing at all! She might get run over,
+or fall in with disreputable people, or&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;
+The other pictures was so horrible he passes
+&#8217;em up.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mothers must be a great care,&#8221; says I. &#8220;I
+ain&#8217;t had one for so long I can&#8217;t say on my own
+hook; but I judge that you and sister has had
+a hard time of it with yours. Excuse me,
+though, if I don&#8217;t shed any tears of sympathy,
+Vincent.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He looks at me kind of sharp at that; but
+he&#8217;s too busy with disturbin&#8217; thoughts to ask
+what I mean. Maybe he&#8217;d found out if he had.
+It&#8217;s just as well he didn&#8217;t; for I was some curious
+to see what would be his next move. From
+his talk it&#8217;s plain Vincent is most worried
+about the chances of the old lady&#8217;s doin&#8217; something
+that would get her name into the papers,
+and he says right off that he won&#8217;t rest easy
+until he&#8217;s found her and shooed her back to the
+fields.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But where am I to look first?&#8221; says he.
+&#8220;How am I to begin?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a big town to haul a dragnet through,
+that&#8217;s a fact,&#8221; says I. &#8220;Why don&#8217;t you call in
+Brother-in-Law Rodney, for a starter?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, no,&#8221; says Vincent, glancin&#8217; uneasy at
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span>
+the gym. door. &#8220;I don&#8217;t care to have him
+know anything about it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe sister might have some information,&#8221;
+says I. &#8220;There&#8217;s the &#8217;phone.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thanks,&#8221; says he. &#8220;If you don&#8217;t mind, I
+will call her up at the Kipp country place.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He does; but Nellie ain&#8217;t heard a word from
+mother; thought she must be with Vincent all
+this time; and has been too busy givin&#8217; house
+parties to find out.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have her cross examine the maids,&#8221; says I.
+&#8220;The old lady may have left some orders about
+forwardin&#8217; her mail.&#8221;</p>
+<p>That was the clew. Inside of ten minutes
+Nellie &#8217;phones back and gives a number on West
+21st-st.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gee!&#8221; says I. &#8220;A hamfatters&#8217; boardin&#8217;-house,
+I&#8217;ll bet a bag of beans! Grandmother
+has sure picked out a lively lodgin&#8217;-place.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Horrible!&#8221; says Vincent. &#8220;I must get her
+away from there at once. But I wish there was
+someone who&mdash;&mdash;Shorty, could I get you to
+go along with me and&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Rescuin&#8217; grandmothers ain&#8217;t my long suit,&#8221;
+says I; &#8220;but I&#8217;ll admit I&#8217;m some int&#8217;rested in
+this case. Come on.&#8221;</p>
+<p>By the time our clockwork cab fetches up in
+front of the prunery it&#8217;s after six o&#8217;clock.
+There&#8217;s no mistakin&#8217; the sort of histrionic asylum
+it was, either. A hungry lookin&#8217; bunch of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span>
+actorets was lined up on the front steps, everyone
+of &#8217;em with an ear stretched out for the
+dinner bell. In the window of the first floor
+front was a beauty doctor&#8217;s sign, a bull fiddle-artist
+was sawin&#8217; out his soul distress in the
+hall bedroom above, and up under the cornice
+the Chicini sisters was leanin&#8217; on the ledge and
+wishin&#8217; the folks back in Saginaw would send on
+that grubstake letter before the landlady got
+any worse. But maybe you&#8217;ve seen samples
+of real dogday tragedy among the profesh, when
+the summer snaps have busted and the fall rehearsals
+have just begun. What, Mabel?</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a sure enough double-in-brass roost,&#8221;
+says I. &#8220;Don&#8217;t say anything that sounds like
+contract, or you&#8217;ll be mobbed.&#8221;</p>
+<p>But they sizes Vincent up for a real estate
+broker, and gives him the chilly stare, until he
+mentions the old lady&#8217;s name. Then they thaws
+out sudden.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, the Duchess!&#8221; squeals a couple in
+chorus. &#8220;Why, she always dines out, you
+know. You&#8217;ll find her around at Doughretti&#8217;s,
+on 27th-st.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Duchess!&#8221; says Vincent. &#8220;I&mdash;I&#8217;m afraid
+there&#8217;s some mistake.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not at all,&#8221; says one of the crowd. &#8220;We
+all call her that. She&#8217;s got Little Spring Water
+with her to-night. Doughretti&#8217;s, just in from
+the avenue, is the place.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span></p>
+<p>And Vincent is the worst puzzled gent you
+ever saw as he climbs back into the cab.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It can&#8217;t be mother they mean,&#8221; says he.
+&#8220;No one would ever think of calling her
+Duchess.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s no accountin&#8217; for what them actorines
+would do,&#8221; says I. &#8220;Anyway, all you got
+to do is take a peek at the party, and if it&#8217;s
+a wrong steer we can go back and take a fresh
+start.&#8221;</p>
+<p>You know Doughretti&#8217;s, if you don&#8217;t you
+know a dozen just like it. It&#8217;s one of these
+sixty-cent table dotty joints, with an electric
+name sign, a striped stoop awnin&#8217;, and a seven-course
+menu manifolded in pale purple ink. You
+begin the agony with an imitation soup that
+looks like Rockaway beach water when the
+tide&#8217;s comin&#8217; in, and you end with a choice of
+petrified cheese rinds that might pass for souvenirs
+from the Palisades.</p>
+<p>If you don&#8217;t want to taste what you eat, you
+let &#8217;em hand you a free bottle of pure California
+claret, vatted on East Houston-st. It&#8217;s
+a mixture of filtered Croton, extra quality aniline
+dyes, and two kinds of wood alcohol, and
+after you&#8217;ve had a pint of it you don&#8217;t care
+whether the milk fed Philadelphia chicken was
+put in cold storage last winter, or back in the
+year of the big wind.</p>
+<p>Madam Doughretti had just fed the Punk
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span>
+Lady waltz into the pianola for the fourth time
+as we pulls up at the curb.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s no use,&#8221; says Vincent. &#8220;She wouldn&#8217;t
+be here. I will wait, though, while you take a
+look around; if you will, Shorty.&#8221;</p>
+<p>On the way over he&#8217;s given me a description
+of his missin&#8217; parent; so I pikes up the steps,
+pushes past the garlic smells, and proceeds to
+inspect the groups around the little tables.
+What I&#8217;m lookin&#8217; for is a squatty old party with
+gray hair pasted down over her ears, and a
+waist like a bag of hay tied in the middle. She&#8217;s
+supposed to be wearin&#8217; a string bonnet about
+the size of a saucer, with a bunch of faded velvet
+violets on top, a coral brooch at her neck,
+and either a black alpaca or a lavender sprigged
+grenadine. Most likely, too, she&#8217;ll be doin&#8217; the
+shovel act with her knife.</p>
+<p>Well, there was a good many kinds of females
+scattered around the coffee stained tablecloths,
+but none that answers to these specifications.
+I was just gettin&#8217; ready to call off the search,
+when I gets my eye on a couple over in one
+corner. The gent was one of these studio Indians,
+with his hair tucked inside his collar.</p>
+<p>The old girl facin&#8217; him didn&#8217;t have any Tonawanda
+look about her, though. She was what
+you might call a frosted pippin, a reg&#8217;lar
+dowager dazzler, like the pictures you see on
+fans. Her gray hair has been spliced out with
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span>
+store puffs until it looks like a weddin&#8217; cake;
+her hat is one of the new wash basin models,
+covered with pink roses that just matches the
+color of her cheeks; and her peek-a-poo lace dress
+fits her like it had been put onto her with a
+shoe horn.</p>
+<p>Sure, I wa&#8217;n&#8217;t lookin&#8217; for any such party as
+this; but I can&#8217;t help takin&#8217; a second squint.
+I notices what fine, gentle old eyes she has, and
+while I was doin&#8217; that I spots something else.
+Just under her chin is one of them antique
+coral pins. Course, it looked like a long shot,
+but I steps out to the door and motions Vincent
+to come in.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I expect we&#8217;re way off the track,&#8221; says I;
+&#8220;but I&#8217;d like to have you take a careless glance
+at the giddy old party over under the kummel
+sign in the corner; the one facin&#8217; this way&mdash;there.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Vincent gives a jump at the first look. Then
+he starts for her full tilt, me trailin&#8217; along and
+whisperin&#8217; to him not to make any fool break
+unless he&#8217;s dead sure. But there&#8217;s no holdin&#8217;
+him back. She&#8217;s so busy chattin&#8217; with the reformed
+Sioux in store clothes that she don&#8217;t
+notice Vincent until he&#8217;s right alongside, and
+just as she looks up he lets loose his indignation.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, grandmother!&#8221; says he.</p>
+<p>She don&#8217;t seem so much jarred as you might
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span>
+think. She don&#8217;t even drop the fork that she&#8217;s
+usin&#8217; to twist up a gob of spaghetti on. All
+she does is to lift her eyebrows in a kind of
+annoyed way, and shoot a quick look at the
+copper tinted gent across the table.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There, there, Vincent?&#8221; says she. &#8220;Please
+don&#8217;t grandmother me; at least, not in public.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But,&#8221; says he, &#8220;you know that you are a&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I admit nothing of the kind,&#8221; says she.
+&#8220;I may be your mother; but as for being anybody&#8217;s
+grandmother, that is an experience I
+know nothing about. Now please run along,
+Vincent, and don&#8217;t bother.&#8221;</p>
+<p>That leaves Vincent up in the air for keeps.
+He don&#8217;t know what to make of this reception,
+or of the change that happened to her; but he
+feels he ought to register some sort of a
+kick.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But, mother,&#8221; says he, &#8220;what does this
+mean? Such clothes! And such&mdash;such&#8221;&mdash;here
+he throws a meanin&#8217; look at the Indian
+gent.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Allow me,&#8221; says grandmother, breakin&#8217; in
+real dignified, &#8220;to introduce Mr. John Little
+Bear, son of Chief Won-go-plunki. I am very
+sorry to interrupt our talk on art, John; but I
+suppose I must say a few words to Vincent.
+Would you mind taking your coffee on the back
+veranda?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span></p>
+<p>He was a well-trained red man, John was,
+and he understands the back out sign; so inside
+of a minute the crockery has been pushed
+away and I&#8217;m attendin&#8217; a family reunion that
+appears to be cast on new lines. Vincent begins
+again by askin&#8217; what it all means.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It means, Vincent,&#8221; says she, &#8220;that I have
+caught up with the procession. I tried being
+the old-fashioned kind of grandmother, and I
+wasn&#8217;t a success. Now I&#8217;m learning the new
+way, and I like it first rate.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But your&mdash;your clothes!&#8221; gasps Vincent.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, what of them?&#8221; says she. &#8220;You
+made fun of the ones I used to wear; but these,
+I would have you know, were selected for me by
+a committee of six chorus ladies who know
+what is what. I am quite satisfied with my
+clothes, Vincent.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Possibly they&#8217;re all right,&#8221; says he; &#8220;but
+how&mdash;how long have you been wearing your
+hair that way?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ever since Madam Montrosini started on
+my improvement course,&#8221; says she. &#8220;I am
+told it is quite becoming. And have you noticed
+my new waist line, Vincent?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Vincent hadn&#8217;t; but he did then, and he had
+nothin&#8217; to say, for she has an hourglass lookin&#8217;
+like a hitchin&#8217; post. Not bein&#8217; able to carry
+on the debate under them headings, he switches
+and comes out strong on what an awful thing
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span>
+it was for her to be livin&#8217; among such dreadful
+people.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why,&#8221; says grandmother, &#8220;they&#8217;re real
+nice, I&#8217;m sure. They have been just as good to
+me as they could be. They take turns going out
+to dinner with me and showing me around the
+town.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good heavens!&#8221; says Vincent. &#8220;And this&mdash;this
+Bear person, does he&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He is an educated, full blooded Sioux,&#8221;
+says grandmother. &#8220;He has toured Europe
+with Buffalo Bill, and just now he is an artists&#8217;
+model. He is very entertaining company,
+Johnny is.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Johnny!&#8221; gasps Vincent under his breath.
+That&#8217;s the last straw. He lays down the law
+then and there to grandmother. If she ever expects
+him to recognize her again, she must
+shake this whole crowd and come with him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where to, Vincent?&#8221; says she.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, to my home, of course,&#8221; says he.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And have your wife&#8217;s maid speak of me
+as a dumpy old scarecrow? No, thank you!&#8221;
+and she calls the waiter to bring a demitasse
+with cognac.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But no one could call you that now,
+mother,&#8221; says Vincent. &#8220;You&mdash;you&#8217;re different,
+quite different.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, am I?&#8221; says she.</p>
+<p>&#8220;To be sure you are,&#8221; says he. &#8220;Julia and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span>
+I would be glad to have you with us. Really,
+we would.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She was a good natured old girl, grandmother
+was. She says she&#8217;ll try it; but only on one
+condition. It was a corker, too. If she&#8217;s going
+to give all her good friends at the actors&#8217;
+boardin&#8217; house the shake, she thinks it ought
+to be done at a farewell dinner at the swellest
+place in town. Vincent groans; but he has to
+give in. And that&#8217;s how it happens the other
+night that about two dozen liberty people walked
+up from Appetite Row and fed themselves off
+Sherry&#8217;s gold plates until the waiters was weak
+in the knees watchin&#8217; &#8217;em.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is the old lady still leadin&#8217; the band
+wagon, Vincent!&#8221; says I to him yesterday.</p>
+<p>&#8220;She is,&#8221; says he, &#8220;and it is wonderful how
+young she has grown.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;New York is a great place for rejuvenatin&#8217;
+grandmothers,&#8221; says I, &#8220;specially around in
+the Red Ink Zone.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='V_A_LONG_SHOT_ON_DELANCEY' id='V_A_LONG_SHOT_ON_DELANCEY'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER V</h2>
+<h3>A LONG SHOT ON DELANCEY</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Well, I&#8217;ve been slummin&#8217; up again. It happens
+like this: I was just preparin&#8217;, here the
+other noontime, to rush around the corner and
+destroy a plate of lunch counter hash decorated
+with parsley and a dropped egg, when I gets
+this &#8217;phone call from Duke Borden, who says
+he wants to see me the worst way.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; says I, &#8220;the studio&#8217;s still here on
+42d-st., and if your eyesight ain&#8217;t failed
+you&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, chop it, can&#8217;t you, Shorty?&#8221; says he.
+&#8220;This is really important. Come right up,
+can&#8217;t you!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That depends,&#8221; says I. &#8220;Any partic&#8217;lar
+place?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course,&#8221; says he. &#8220;Here at the club.
+I&#8217;m to meet Chick Sommers here in half an
+hour. We&#8217;ll have luncheon together and&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m on,&#8221; says I. &#8220;I don&#8217;t know Chick;
+but I&#8217;m a mixer, and I&#8217;ll stand for anything in
+the food line but cold egg. Scratch the chilled
+hen fruit and I&#8217;m with you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Know about Duke, don&#8217;t you? It ain&#8217;t much
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span>
+to tell. He&#8217;s just one of these big, handsome,
+overfed chappies that help the mounted traffic
+cops to make Fifth-ave. look different from
+other Main-sts. He don&#8217;t do any special good,
+or any partic&#8217;lar harm. Duke&#8217;s got just enough
+sense, though, to have spasms of thinkin&#8217; he
+wants to do something useful now and then,
+and all I can dope out of this emergency call
+of his is that this is a new thought.</p>
+<p>That&#8217;s the answer, too. He begins tellin&#8217; me
+about it while the head waiter&#8217;s leadin&#8217; us over
+to a corner table. Oh, yes, he&#8217;s going in for
+business in dead earnest now, y&#8217;know,&mdash;suite
+of offices, his name on the letterheads, and all
+that sort of thing, bah Jove!</p>
+<p>All of which means that Mr. Chick Sommers,
+who was a star quarterback in &#8217;05, when Duke
+was makin&#8217; his college bluff on the Gold Coast,
+has rung him into a South Jersey land boomin&#8217;
+scheme. A few others, friends of Chick&#8217;s, are
+in it. They&#8217;re all rippin&#8217; good fellows, too,
+and awfully clever at planning out things.
+Chick himself, of course, is a corker. It was
+him that insisted on Duke&#8217;s bein&#8217; treasurer.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And really,&#8221; says Duke, &#8220;about all I have
+to do is drop around once or twice a week and
+sign a few checks.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I see,&#8221; says I. &#8220;They let you supply the
+funds, eh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, yes,&#8221; says Duke. &#8220;I&#8217;m the only one
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span>
+who can, y&#8217;know. But they depend a great
+deal on my judgment, too. For instance, take
+this new deal that&#8217;s on; it has all been left to
+me. There are one hundred and eighteen acres,
+and we don&#8217;t buy a foot unless I say so. That&#8217;s
+where you come in, Shorty.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, do I?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You see,&#8221; Duke goes on, &#8220;I&#8217;m supposed to
+inspect it and make a decision before the option
+expires, which will be day after to-morrow.
+The fact is, I&#8217;ve been putting off going
+down there, and now I find I&#8217;ve a winter house
+party on, up in Lenox, and&mdash;&mdash; Well, you see
+the box I&#8217;m in.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure!&#8221; says I. &#8220;You want me to sub for
+you at Lenox?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Deuce take it, no!&#8221; says Duke. &#8220;I want
+you to go down and look at that land for me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Huh!&#8221; says I. &#8220;What I know about real
+estate wouldn&#8217;t&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, that&#8217;s all right,&#8221; says Duke. &#8220;It&#8217;s
+only a matter of form. The boys say they
+want it, and I&#8217;m going to buy it for them anyway;
+but, just to have it all straight and businesslike,
+either I ought to see the land myself,
+or have it inspected by my personal representative.
+Understand?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Duke,&#8221; says I, &#8220;you&#8217;re a reg&#8217;lar real
+estate Napoleon. I wouldn&#8217;t have believed it
+was in you.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I know,&#8221; says he. &#8220;I&#8217;m really surprised
+at myself.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Next he explains how he happened to think of
+sendin&#8217; me, and casually he wants to know if a
+couple of hundred and expenses will be about
+right for spoilin&#8217; two days of my valuable time.
+How could I tell how much it would lose me?
+But I said I&#8217;d run the chances.</p>
+<p>Then Chick shows up, and they begin to talk
+over the details of this new bungalow boom
+town that&#8217;s to be located on the Jersey side.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I tell you,&#8221; says Chick, &#8220;it&#8217;ll be a winner
+from the start. Why, there&#8217;s every advantage
+anyone could wish for,&mdash;ocean breezes mingled
+with pine scented zephyrs, magnificent views,
+and a railroad running right through the property!
+The nearest station now is Clam Creek;
+but we&#8217;ll have one of our own, with a new name.
+Clam Creek! Ugh! How does Pinemere strike
+you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perfectly ripping, by Jove!&#8221; says Duke, so
+excited over it that he lights the cork end of his
+cigarette. &#8220;Shorty, you must go right down
+there for me. Can&#8217;t you start as soon as you&#8217;ve
+had your coffee?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Oh, but it was thrillin&#8217;, listenin&#8217; to them two
+amateur real estaters layin&#8217; plans that was to
+make a seashore wilderness blossom with surveyors&#8217;
+stakes and fresh painted signs like
+Belvidere-ave., Ozone Boulevard, and so on.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span></p>
+<p>It struck me, though, that they was discussin&#8217;
+their scheme kind of free and public. I spots
+one white haired, dignified old boy, doing the
+solitaire feed at the table back of Duke, who
+seems more or less int&#8217;rested. And I notices
+that every time Clam Creek is mentioned he
+pricks up his ears. Sure enough, too, just as
+we&#8217;re finishing, he steps over and taps Duke
+on the shoulder.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, howdy do, Mr. Cathaway?&#8221; says
+Duke. &#8220;Charmed to see you, by Jove!&#8221;</p>
+<p>And it turns out he&#8217;s DeLancey Cathaway,
+the big noise in the philanthropy game, him
+that gets up societies for suppressin&#8217; the poor
+and has his name on hospitals and iron drinkin&#8217;
+fountains. After he&#8217;s been introduced all
+around he admits that he&#8217;s caught one or two
+remarks, and says he wants to congratulate
+Duke on givin&#8217; up his idle ways and breakin&#8217;
+into an active career.</p>
+<p>Oh, he&#8217;s a smooth old party, Mr. Cathaway
+is! He don&#8217;t let on to be more&#8217;n moderately
+int&#8217;rested, and the next thing I know he&#8217;s sidled
+away from Duke and is walkin&#8217; out alongside
+of me.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Going down town?&#8221; says he. &#8220;Then perhaps
+you will allow me to give you a lift?&#8221; and
+he motions to his town car waiting at the curb.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gee!&#8221; thinks I. &#8220;I&#8217;m makin&#8217; a hit with
+the nobility, me and my winnin&#8217; ways!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span></p>
+<p>That don&#8217;t exactly state the case, though;
+for as soon as we&#8217;re alone DeLancey comes
+right to cases.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I understand, Mr. McCabe,&#8221; says he, &#8220;that
+you are to visit Clam Creek.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yep,&#8221; says I. &#8220;Sounds enticin&#8217;, don&#8217;t
+it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Doubtless you will spend a day or so
+there?&#8221; he goes on.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Over night, anyway,&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hum!&#8221; says he. &#8220;Then you will hardly
+fail to meet my brother. He is living at Clam
+Creek.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Not Broadway Bob?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; says he, &#8220;Robert and his wife have
+been there for nearly two years. At least, that
+is where I have been sending his allowance.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mrs. Bob too!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Why&mdash;why, say,
+you don&#8217;t mean the one that&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The same,&#8221; he cuts in. &#8220;I know they&#8217;re
+supposed to be abroad; but they&#8217;re not, they are
+at Clam Creek.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Maybe you&#8217;ve heard about the Bob Cathaways,
+and maybe you ain&#8217;t. There&#8217;s so many
+new near-plutes nowadays that the old families
+ain&#8217;t getting the advertisin&#8217; they&#8217;ve been
+used to. Anyway, it&#8217;s been sometime since
+Broadway Bob had his share of the limelight.
+You see, Bob sort of had his day when he was
+along in his thirties, and they say he was a real
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span>
+old-time sport and rounder, which was why he
+was let in so bad when old man Cathaway&#8217;s will
+was probated. All Bob pulls out is a couple of
+thousand a year, even that being handled first
+by Brother DeLancey, who cops all the rest of
+the pile as a reward for always having gone in
+strong for charity and the perfectly good life.</p>
+<p>It&#8217;s a case where virtue shows up strong from
+the first tap of the bell. Course, Bob can look
+back on some years of vivid joy, when he was
+makin&#8217; a record as a quart opener, buyin&#8217; stacks
+of blues at Daly&#8217;s, or over at Monte Carlo bettin&#8217;
+where the ball would stop. But all this
+ends mighty abrupt.</p>
+<p>In the meantime Bob has married a lively
+young lady that nobody knew much about except
+that she was almost as good a sport as he
+was, and they were doin&#8217; some great teamwork
+in the way of livenin&#8217; up society, when the
+crash came.</p>
+<p>Then it was the noble hearted DeLancey to
+the rescue. He don&#8217;t exactly take them right
+into the fam&#8217;ly; but he sends Mr. and Mrs. Bob
+over to his big Long Island country place, assigns
+&#8217;em quarters in the north wing, and advises
+&#8217;em to be as happy as they can. Now to
+most folks that would look like landin&#8217; on Velveteen-st.,&mdash;free
+eats, no room rent, and a forty-acre
+park to roam around in, with the use of a
+couple of safe horses and a libr&#8217;y full of improvin&#8217;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span>
+books, such as the Rollo series and the
+works of Dr. Van Dyke.</p>
+<p>Brother Bob don&#8217;t squeal or whine. He
+starts in to make the best of it by riggin&#8217; himself
+out like an English Squire and makin&#8217; a
+stagger at the country gentleman act. He takes
+a real int&#8217;rest in keepin&#8217; up the grounds and
+managin&#8217; the help, which DeLancey had never
+been able to do himself.</p>
+<p>It&#8217;s as dull as dishwater, though, for Mrs.
+Robert Cathaway, and as there ain&#8217;t anyone
+else handy she takes it out on Bob. Accordin&#8217;
+to all accounts, they must have done the anvil
+chorus good and plenty. You can just see how
+it would be, with them two dumped down so far
+from Broadway and only now and then comp&#8217;ny
+to break the monotony. When people did come,
+too, they was DeLancey&#8217;s kind. I can picture
+Bob tryin&#8217; to get chummy with a bunch of prison
+reformers or delegates to a Sunday school
+union. I don&#8217;t wonder his disposition curdled
+up.</p>
+<p>If it hadn&#8217;t been for Mrs. Bob, though, they&#8217;d
+been there yet. She got so used to rowin&#8217; with
+Bob that she kept it up even when Brother DeLancey
+and his friends came down. DeLancey
+stands for it until one morning at breakfast,
+when he was entertainin&#8217; an English Bishop
+he&#8217;d corraled at some conference. Him and
+the Bishop was exchangin&#8217; views on whether
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span>
+free soup and free salvation was a good workin&#8217;
+combination or not, when some little thing sets
+Mr. and Mrs. Bob to naggin&#8217; each other on the
+side. I forgot just what it was Bob shot over;
+but after standin&#8217; her jabs for quite some time
+without gettin&#8217; real personal he comes back
+with some stage whisper remark that cut in
+deep.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Bob was right in the act of helpin&#8217; herself
+to the jelly omelet, usin&#8217; a swell silver
+servin&#8217; shovel about half the size of a brick
+layer&#8217;s trowel. She&#8217;s so stirred up that she absentmindedly
+scoops up a double portion, and
+just as Bob springs his remark what does she do
+but up and let fly at him, right across the table.
+Maybe she&#8217;d have winged him too,&mdash;and served
+him right for saying what no gentleman should
+to a lady, even if she is his wife,&mdash;but, what
+with her not stoppin&#8217; to take good aim, and the
+maid&#8217;s gettin&#8217; her tray against her elbow, she
+misses Bob by about three feet and plasters the
+English Bishop square between the eyes.</p>
+<p>Now of course that wa&#8217;n&#8217;t any way to serve
+hot omelet to a stranger, no matter how annoyed
+you was. DeLancey told her as much
+while he was helpin&#8217; swab off the reverend guest.
+Afterwards he added other observations more
+or less definite. Inside of two hours Mr. and
+Mrs. Bob found their baggage waitin&#8217; under the
+porte cochère, and the wagonette ready to take
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span>
+&#8217;em to the noon train. They went. It was
+given out that they was travelin&#8217; abroad, and
+if it hadn&#8217;t been for the omelet part of the
+incident they&#8217;d been forgotten long ago. That
+was a stunt that stuck, though.</p>
+<p>As I looks at DeLancey there in the limousine
+I has to grin. &#8220;Say,&#8221; says I, &#8220;was it a fact
+that the Bishop broke loose and cussed?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That humiliating affair, Mr. McCabe,&#8221; says
+he, &#8220;I would much prefer not to talk about.
+I refer to my brother now because, knowing
+that you are going to Clam Creek, you will probably
+meet him there.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Like to have me give him
+your best regards!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; says DeLancey. &#8220;I should like, however,
+to hear how you found him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Another report, eh!&#8221; says I. &#8220;All right,
+Mr. Cathaway, I&#8217;ll size him up for you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But chiefly,&#8221; he goes on, &#8220;I shall depend
+upon your discretion not to mention my
+brother&#8217;s whereabouts to anyone else. As an
+aid to that discretion,&#8221; says he, digging up his
+roll and sortin&#8217; out some tens, &#8220;I am prepared
+to&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, button &#8217;em back!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Who do
+you think you&#8217;re dealin&#8217; with, anyway?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why,&#8221; says he, flushin&#8217; up, &#8220;I merely intended&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, forget it!&#8221; says I. &#8220;I ain&#8217;t runnin&#8217;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span>
+any opposition to the Black Hand, and as for
+whether I leak out where your brother is or
+not, that&#8217;s something you got to take chances
+on. Pull up there, Mr. Chauffeur! This is
+where I start to walk.&#8221;</p>
+<p>And say, you could put his name on all the
+hospitals and orphan asylums in the country;
+but I never could see it again without growin&#8217;
+warm under the collar. Bah! Some of these
+perfectly good folks have a habit of gettin&#8217; on
+my nerves. All the way down to Clam Creek
+I kept tryin&#8217; to wipe him off the slate, and I&#8217;d
+made up my mind to dodge Brother Bob, if I
+had to sleep in the woods.</p>
+<p>So as soon as I hops off the train I gets my
+directions and starts to tramp over this tract
+that Duke Borden was plannin&#8217; on blowin&#8217; some
+of his surplus cash against. And say, if anybody
+wants an imitation desert, dotted with
+scrub pine and fringed with salt marshes, that&#8217;s
+the place to go lookin&#8217; for it. There&#8217;s hundreds
+of square miles of it down there that nobody&#8217;s
+usin&#8217;, or threatenin&#8217; to.</p>
+<p>Also I walked up an appetite like a fresh
+landed hired girl. I was so hungry that I pikes
+straight for the only hotel and begs &#8217;em to lead
+me to a knife and fork. For a wonder, too,
+they brings on some real food, plain and hearty,
+and I don&#8217;t worry about the way it&#8217;s thrown at
+me.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span></p>
+<p>Yon know how it is out in the kerosene district.
+I finds myself face to face with a hunk
+of corned beef as big as my two fists, boiled
+Murphies, cabbage and canned corn on the side,
+bread sliced an inch thick, and spring freshet
+coffee in a cup you couldn&#8217;t break with an ax.
+Lizzie, the waitress, was chewin&#8217; gum and
+watchin&#8217; to see if I was one of them fresh travelin&#8217;
+gents that would try any funny cracks
+on her.</p>
+<p>I&#8217;d waded through the food programme as
+far as makin&#8217; a choice between tapioca puddin&#8217;
+and canned peaches, when in drifts a couple that
+I knew, the minute I gets my eyes on &#8217;em, must
+be Mr. and Mrs. Bob Cathaway. Who else in
+that little one-horse town would be sportin&#8217; a
+pair of puttee leggin&#8217;s and doeskin ridin&#8217;
+breeches? That was Bob&#8217;s makeup, includin&#8217;
+a flap-pocketed cutaway of Harris tweed and a
+corduroy vest. They fit him a little snug,
+showin&#8217; he&#8217;s laid on some flesh since he had &#8217;em
+built. Also he&#8217;s a lot grayer than I expected,
+knowin&#8217; him to be younger than DeLancey.</p>
+<p>As for Mrs. Bob&mdash;well, if you can remember
+how the women was dressin&#8217; as far back as two
+years ago, and can throw on the screen a picture
+of a woman who has only the reminders
+of her good looks left, you&#8217;ll have her framed
+up. A pair of seedy thoroughbreds, they was,
+seedy and down and out.</p>
+<div class='figcenter'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span>
+<img src='images/illus-078.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 507px; height: 340px;' /><br />
+<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 507px;'>
+&#8220;<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>I knew it must be Mr. and Mrs. Bob Cathaway</span>&#8221;<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>I was wonderin&#8217; if they still indulged in them
+lively fam&#8217;ly debates, and how soon I&#8217;d have to
+begin dodgin&#8217; dishes; but they sits down across
+the table from me and hardly swaps a word.
+All I notices is the scornful way Lizzie asks
+if they&#8217;ll have soup, and the tremble to Bob
+Cathaway&#8217;s hand as he lifts his water tumbler.</p>
+<p>As there was only us three in the room, and
+as none of us seemed to have anything to say,
+it wa&#8217;n&#8217;t what you might call a boisterous assemblage.
+While I was waitin&#8217; for dessert I
+put in the time gazin&#8217; around at the scenery,
+from the moldy pickle jars at either end of the
+table, over to the walnut sideboard where they
+kept the plated cake basket and the ketchup
+bottles, across to the framed fruit piece that
+had seen so many hard fly seasons, and up to
+the smoky ceilin&#8217;. I looked everywhere except
+at the pair opposite.</p>
+<p>Lizzie was balancin&#8217; the soup plates on her
+left arm and singsongin&#8217; the bill of fare to &#8217;em.
+&#8220;Col&#8217;-pork-col&#8217;-ham-an&#8217;-corn-beef-&#8217;n&#8217;-cabbage,&#8221;
+says she.</p>
+<p>If Bob Cathaway didn&#8217;t shudder at that, I
+did for him. &#8220;You may bring me&mdash;er&mdash;some
+of the latter,&#8221; says he.</p>
+<p>I tested the canned peaches and then took
+a sneak. On one side of the front hall was the
+hotel parlor, full of plush furniture and stuffed
+birds. The office and bar was on the other. I
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span>
+strolls in where half a dozen Clam Creekers was
+sittin&#8217; around a big sawdust box indulgin&#8217;
+in target practice; but after a couple of
+sniffs I concludes that the breathin&#8217; air is all
+outside.</p>
+<p>After half an hour&#8217;s stroll I goes in, takes a
+lamp off the hall table, and climbs up to No. 7.
+It&#8217;s as warm and cheerful as an underground
+beer vault. Also I finds the window nailed
+down. Huntin&#8217; for someone to fetch me a
+hammer was what sent me roamin&#8217; through the
+hall and took me past No. 11, where the door
+was part way open. And in there, with an oil-stove
+to keep &#8217;em from freezin&#8217;, I see Mr. and
+Mrs. Bob Cathaway sittin&#8217; at a little marble
+topped table playin&#8217; double dummy bridge. Say,
+do you know, that unexpected glimpse of this
+little private hard luck proposition of theirs
+kind of got me in the short ribs. And next
+thing I knew I had my head in the door.</p>
+<p>&#8220;For the love of Mike,&#8221; says I, &#8220;how do
+you stand it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eh?&#8221; says Bob, droppin&#8217; his cards and
+starin&#8217; at me. &#8220;I&mdash;I beg pardon?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Well, with that I steps in, tells him who I
+am, and how I&#8217;d just had a talk with Brother
+DeLancey. Do I get the glad hand? Why,
+you&#8217;d thought I was a blooming he angel
+come straight from the pearly gates. Bob
+drags me in, pushes me into the only rocker in
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span>
+the room, shoves a cigar box at me, and begins
+to haul decanters from under the washstand.
+They both asks questions at once. How is
+everybody, and who&#8217;s married who, and are so
+and so still living together?</p>
+<p>I reels off society gossip for an hour before
+I gets a chance to do some pumpin&#8217; on my own
+hook. What I wants to know is why in blazes
+they&#8217;re hidin&#8217; in a hole like Clam Creek.</p>
+<p>Bob only shrugs his shoulders. &#8220;Why not
+here as well as anywhere?&#8221; says he. &#8220;When
+you can&#8217;t afford to live among your friends,
+why&mdash;you live in Clam Creek.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But two years of it!&#8221; says I. &#8220;What do
+you find to do?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, we manage,&#8221; says he, wavin&#8217; at the
+double dummy outfit. &#8220;Babe and I have our
+little game. It&#8217;s only for a dime a point; but
+it helps pass away the time. You see, when
+our monthly allowance comes in we divide it
+equally and take a fresh start. The winner has
+the privilege of paying our bills.&#8221;</p>
+<p>How was that for excitement? And Bob
+whispers to me, as we starts out for a little
+walk before turnin&#8217; in, &#8220;I generally fix it so
+Babe&mdash;er, Mrs. Cathaway&mdash;can win, you
+know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>From other little hints I gathers that their
+stay in Clam Creek has done one thing for &#8217;em,
+anyway. It had put &#8217;em wise to the great fact
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span>
+that the best way for two parties to get along
+together is to cut out the hammer music.</p>
+<p>&#8220;So you had a talk with DeLancey?&#8221; says
+Bob on the way back. &#8220;I suppose he&mdash;er&mdash;sent
+no message?&#8221;</p>
+<p>It had taken Bob Cathaway all this while to
+work up to that question, and he can&#8217;t steady
+down his voice as he puts it. And that quaver
+tells me the whole story of how he&#8217;s been hoping
+all along that Brother DeLancey would
+sometime or other get over his grouch. Which
+puts it up to me to tell him what a human iceberg
+he&#8217;s related to. Did I? Honest, there&#8217;s
+times when I ain&#8217;t got much use for the truth.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Message?&#8221; says I, prompt and cheerful.
+&#8220;Now what in blazes was it he did say to tell
+you? Something about asking how long before
+you and Mrs. Cathaway was goin&#8217; to run up and
+make him a visit, I guess.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A visit!&#8221; gasps Bob. &#8220;Did&mdash;did DeLancey
+say that? Then thank Heaven it&#8217;s over!
+Come on! Hurry!&#8221; and he grabs me by the
+arm, tows me to the hotel, and makes a dash
+up the stairs towards their room.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you think, Babe?&#8221; says he,
+pantin&#8217;. &#8220;DeLancey wants to know when
+we&#8217;re coming back!&#8221;</p>
+<p>For a minute Mrs. Bob don&#8217;t say a word, but
+just stands there, her hands gripped in Bob&#8217;s,
+and the dew startin&#8217; out of her eye corners.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span>
+Then she asks, sort of husky, &#8220;Isn&#8217;t there a
+night train, Bob?&#8221;</p>
+<p>There wa&#8217;n&#8217;t; but there was one at six-thirty-eight
+in the mornin&#8217;. We all caught it, too, both
+of &#8217;em as chipper as a pair of kids, and me wonderin&#8217;
+how it was all goin&#8217; to turn out.</p>
+<p>For three days after that I never went to the
+&#8217;phone without expectin&#8217; to hear from Bob
+Cathaway, expressin&#8217; his opinion about my
+qualifications for the Ananias class. And then
+here the other afternoon I runs into Brother
+DeLancey on the avenue, not seein&#8217; him quick
+enough to beat it up a side street.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, McCabe,&#8221; he sings out, &#8220;just a moment!
+That little affair about my Brother Robert,
+you know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure, I know,&#8221; says I, bracin&#8217; myself.
+&#8220;Where is he now?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why,&#8221; says DeLancey, with never an eyelash
+flutterin&#8217;, &#8220;he and his wife are living at
+Green Oaks again. Just returned from an extended
+trip abroad, you know.&#8221; Then he
+winks.</p>
+<p>Say, who was it sent out that bulletin about
+how all men was liars? I ain&#8217;t puttin&#8217; in any
+not guilty plea; but I&#8217;d like to add that some
+has got it down finer than others.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='VI_PLAYING_HAROLD_BOTH_WAYS' id='VI_PLAYING_HAROLD_BOTH_WAYS'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+<h3>PLAYING HAROLD BOTH WAYS</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Anyway, they came bunched, and that was
+some comfort. Eh? Well, first off there was
+the lovers, then there was Harold; and it was
+only the combination that saved me from developin&#8217;
+an ingrowin&#8217; grouch.</p>
+<p>You can guess who it was accumulated the
+lovers. Why, when Sadie comes back from Bar
+Harbor and begins tellin&#8217; me about &#8217;em, you&#8217;d
+thought she&#8217;d been left something in a will,
+she&#8217;s so pleased.</p>
+<p>Seems there was these two young ladies,
+friends of some friends of hers, that was bein&#8217;
+just as miserable as they could be up there.
+One was visitin&#8217; the other, and, as I made out
+from Sadie&#8217;s description, they must have been
+havin&#8217; an awful time, livin&#8217; in one of them
+eighteen-room cottages built on a point juttin&#8217;
+a mile or so out into the ocean, with nothin&#8217; but
+yachts and motor boats and saddle horses and
+tennis courts and so on to amuse themselves
+with.</p>
+<p>I inspected some of them places when I was
+up that way not long ago,&mdash;joints where they
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span>
+get their only information about hot waves by
+readin&#8217; the papers,&mdash;and I can just imagine how
+I could suffer puttin&#8217; in a summer there. Say,
+some folks don&#8217;t know when they&#8217;re well off,
+do they?</p>
+<p>And what do you suppose the trouble with
+&#8217;em was? Why, Bobbie and Charlie was
+missin&#8217;. Honest, that&#8217;s all the place lacked to
+make it a suburb of Paradise. But that was
+enough for the young ladies; for each of &#8217;em
+was sportin&#8217; a diamond ring on the proper
+finger, and, as they confides to Sadie, what was
+the use of havin&#8217; summer at all, if one&#8217;s fiancé
+couldn&#8217;t be there?</p>
+<p>Bobbie and Charlie, it appears, was slavin&#8217;
+away in the city; one tryin&#8217; to convince Papa
+that he&#8217;d be a real addition to Wall Street, and
+the other trainin&#8217; with Uncle for a job as vice
+president of a life insurance company. So
+what did Helen and Marjorie care about sea
+breezes and picture postal scenery? Once a
+day they climbed out to separate perches on the
+rocks to read letters from Bobbie and Charlie;
+and the rest of the time they put in comparin&#8217;
+notes and helpin&#8217; each other be miserable.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, quit it, Sadie!&#8221; says I, interruptin&#8217; the
+sad tale. &#8220;Do you want to make me cry?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, they were wretched, even if you don&#8217;t
+believe it,&#8221; says she; &#8220;so I just told them to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span>
+come right down here for the rest of the season.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wha-a-at!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Not here?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why not?&#8221; says Sadie. &#8220;The boys can
+run up every afternoon and have dinner with
+us and stay over Sunday, and&mdash;and it will be
+just lovely. You know how much I like to have
+young people around. So do you, too.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, that&#8217;s all right,&#8221; says I; &#8220;but&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I know,&#8221; says she. &#8220;This isn&#8217;t
+matchmaking, though. They&#8217;re already engaged,
+and it will be just delightful to have them
+with us. Now won&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe it will,&#8221; says I. &#8220;We ain&#8217;t ever
+done this wholesale before; so I ain&#8217;t sure.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Someway, I had a hunch that two pair of
+lovers knockin&#8217; around the premises at once
+might be most too much of a good thing; but,
+as long as I couldn&#8217;t quote any authorities, I
+didn&#8217;t feel like keepin&#8217; on with the debate.</p>
+<p>I couldn&#8217;t object any to the style of the young
+ladies when they showed up; for they was both
+in the queen class, tall and willowy and sweet
+faced. One could tease opera airs out of the
+piano in great shape, and the other had quite
+some of a voice; so the prospects were for a
+few weeks of lively and entertainin&#8217; evenin&#8217;s
+at the McCabe mansion. I had the programme
+all framed up too,&mdash;me out on the veranda with
+my heels on the rail, the windows open, and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span>
+inside the young folks strikin&#8217; up the melodies
+and makin&#8217; merry gen&#8217;rally.</p>
+<p>Bobbie and Charles made more or less of a
+hit with me too when they first called,&mdash;good,
+husky, clean built young gents that passed out
+the cordial grip and remarked real hearty how
+much they appreciated our great kindness
+askin&#8217; &#8217;em up.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t mention it,&#8221; says I. &#8220;It&#8217;s a fad of
+mine.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Anyway, it looked like a good game to be in
+on, seein&#8217; there wa&#8217;n&#8217;t any objections from any
+of the fam&#8217;lies. Made me feel bright and
+chirky, just to see &#8217;em there, so that night at
+dinner I cut loose with some real cute joshes
+for the benefit of the young people. You know
+how easy it is to be humorous on them occasions.
+Honest, I must have come across with
+some of the snappiest I had in stock, and I was
+watchin&#8217; for the girls to pink up and accuse
+me of bein&#8217; an awful kidder, when all of a
+sudden I tumbles to the fact that I ain&#8217;t holdin&#8217;
+my audience.</p>
+<p>Say, they&#8217;d started up a couple of conversations
+on their own hook&mdash;kind of side issue,
+soft pedal dialogues&mdash;and they wa&#8217;n&#8217;t takin&#8217;
+the slightest notice of my brilliant efforts. At
+the other end of the table Sadie is havin&#8217; more
+or less the same experience; for every time she
+tries to cut in with some cheerful observation
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span>
+she finds she&#8217;s addressin&#8217; either Marjorie&#8217;s left
+shoulder or Bobbie&#8217;s right.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eh, Sadie?&#8221; says I across the centerpiece.
+&#8220;What was that last of yours?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It doesn&#8217;t matter,&#8221; says she. &#8220;Shall we
+have coffee in the library, girls, or outside!
+I say, Helen, shall we have&mdash;&mdash; I beg pardon,
+Helen, but would you prefer&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What we seem to need most, Sadie,&#8221; says
+I as she gives it up, &#8220;is a table megaphone.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Nobody hears this suggestion, though, not
+even Sadie. I was lookin&#8217; for the fun to begin
+after dinner,&mdash;the duets and the solos and the
+quartets,&mdash;but the first thing Sadie and I
+know we are occupyin&#8217; the libr&#8217;y all by ourselves,
+with nothing doing in the merry music
+line.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course,&#8221; says she, &#8220;they want a little
+time by themselves.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Half-hour out for the
+reunion.&#8221;</p>
+<p>It lasts some longer, though. At the end of
+an hour I thinks I&#8217;ll put in the rest of the wait
+watchin&#8217; the moon come up out of Long Island
+Sound from my fav&#8217;rite corner of the veranda;
+but when I gets there I finds it&#8217;s occupied.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Excuse me,&#8221; says I, and beats it around
+to the other side, where there&#8217;s a double rocker
+that I can gen&#8217;rally be comfortable in. Hanged
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span>
+if I didn&#8217;t come near sittin&#8217; slam down on
+the second pair, that was snuggled up close
+there in the dark!</p>
+<p>&#8220;Aha!&#8221; says I in my best comic vein. &#8220;So
+here&#8217;s where you are, eh? Fine night, ain&#8217;t
+it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>There&#8217;s a snicker from the young lady, a
+grunt from the young gent; but nothing else
+happens in the way of a glad response. So I
+chases back into the house.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s lovely out, isn&#8217;t it?&#8221; says Sadie.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; says I; &#8220;but more or less mushy in
+spots.&#8221;</p>
+<p>With that we starts in to sit up for &#8217;em.
+Sadie says we got to because we&#8217;re doin&#8217; the
+chaperon act. And, say, I&#8217;ve seen more excitin&#8217;
+games. I read three evenin&#8217; papers clear
+through from the weather forecast to the bond
+quotations, and I finished by goin&#8217; sound asleep
+in my chair. I don&#8217;t know whether Bobbie and
+Charlie caught the milk train back to town or
+not; but they got away sometime before breakfast.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, well,&#8221; says Sadie, chokin&#8217; off a yawn
+as she pours the coffee, &#8220;this was their first
+evening together, you know. I suppose they
+had a lot to say to each other.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Must have had,&#8221; says I. &#8220;I shouldn&#8217;t
+think they&#8217;d have to repeat that performance
+for a month.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span></p>
+<p>Next night, though, it&#8217;s the same thing, and
+the next, and the next. &#8220;Poor things!&#8221; thinks
+I. &#8220;I expect they&#8217;re afraid of being guyed.&#8221;
+So, just to show how sociable and friendly I
+could be, I tries buttin&#8217; in on these lonely teeter-tates.
+First I&#8217;d hunt up one couple and submit
+some samples of my best chatter&mdash;gettin&#8217;
+about as much reply as if I was ringin&#8217; Central
+with the wire down. Then I locates the other
+pair, drags a rocker over near &#8217;em, and tries
+to make the dialogue three handed. They
+stands it for a minute or so before decidin&#8217; to
+move to another spot.</p>
+<p>Honest, I never expected to feel lonesome
+right at home entertainin&#8217; guests! but I was
+gettin&#8217; acquainted with the sensation. There&#8217;s
+no musical doings, no happy groups and gay
+laughter about the house; nothing but now
+and then a whisper from dark corners, or the
+creak of the porch swings.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gee! but they&#8217;re takin&#8217; their spoonin&#8217;
+serious, ain&#8217;t they?&#8221; says I to Sadie. &#8220;And
+how popular we are with &#8217;em! Makes me feel
+almost like I ought to put on a gag and sit
+down cellar in the coalbin.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Pooh!&#8221; says Sadie, makin&#8217; a bluff she
+didn&#8217;t mind. &#8220;Do let them enjoy themselves
+in their own way.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure I will,&#8221; says I. &#8220;Only this chaperon
+business is gettin&#8217; on my nerves. I don&#8217;t feel
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span>
+like a host here; I feel more like a second story
+man dodgin&#8217; the night watchman.&#8221;</p>
+<p>There wa&#8217;n&#8217;t any signs of a change, either.
+When they had to be around where we was
+they had hardly a word to say and acted bored
+to death; and it must have taxed their brains,
+workin&#8217; up all them cute little schemes for
+leavin&#8217; us on a siding so they could pair off.
+Course, I&#8217;ve seen engaged couples before; but
+I never met any that had the disease quite so
+hard. And this bein&#8217; shunned like I had somethin&#8217;
+catchin&#8217; was new to me. I begun to feel
+like I was about ninety years old and in the
+way.</p>
+<p>Sunday forenoon was the limit, though.
+Sadie had planned to take &#8217;em all for a motor
+trip; but they declines with thanks. Would
+they rather go out on the water? No, they
+didn&#8217;t care for that, either. All they seems
+to want to do is wander round, two by two,
+where we ain&#8217;t. And at that Sadie loses some
+of her enthusiasm for havin&#8217; bunches of lovers
+around.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Humph!&#8221; I hears her remark as she
+watches Bobbie and Marjorie sidestep her and
+go meanderin&#8217; off down a path to the rocks.</p>
+<p>A little while later I happens to stroll down
+to the summerhouse with the Sunday paper,
+and as I steps in one door Charlie and Helen
+slip out by the other. They&#8217;d seen me first.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, well!&#8221; says I. &#8220;I never knew before
+how unentertainin&#8217; I could be.&#8221;</p>
+<p>And I was just wonderin&#8217; how I could relieve
+my feelin&#8217;s without eatin&#8217; a fuzzy worm,
+like the small boy that nobody loved, when I
+hears footsteps approachin&#8217; through the shrubb&#8217;ry.
+I looks up, to find myself bein&#8217; inspected
+by a weedy, long legged youth. He&#8217;s an odd
+lookin&#8217; kid, with dull reddish hair, so many
+freckles that his face looks rusty, and a pair
+of big purple black eyes that gazes at me
+serious.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, son,&#8221; says I, &#8220;where did you drop
+from?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My name is Harold Burbank Fitzmorris,&#8221;
+says he, &#8220;and I am visiting with my mother
+on the adjoining estate.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That sounds like a full description, Harold,&#8221;
+says I. &#8220;Did you stray off, or was you
+sent?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I trust you don&#8217;t mind,&#8221; says he; &#8220;but
+I am exploring.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Explore away then,&#8221; says I, &#8220;so long as
+you don&#8217;t tramp through the flowerbeds.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I wouldn&#8217;t think of injuring them,&#8221;
+says he. &#8220;I am passionately fond of flowers.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t say!&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; says Harold, droppin&#8217; down easy
+on the bench alongside of me. &#8220;I love Nature
+in all her moods. I am a poet, you know.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Eh!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Ain&#8217;t you beginning sort
+of young?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nearly all the really great men of literature,&#8221;
+comes back Harold as prompt as if he
+was speakin&#8217; a piece, &#8220;have begun their careers
+by writing verse. I presume mine might be
+considered somewhat immature; but I am impelled
+from within to do it. All that will pass,
+however, when I enter on my serious work.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, then you&#8217;ve got a job on the hook,
+have you!&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I expect,&#8221; says Harold, smilin&#8217; sort of
+indulgent and runnin&#8217; his fingers careless
+through his thick coppery hair, &#8220;to produce my
+first novel when I am twenty. It will have a
+somber theme, something after the manner of
+Turgenieff. Do you not find Turgenieff very
+stimulating?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Harold,&#8221; says I, &#8220;all them Hungarian
+wines are more or less heady, and a kid like
+you shouldn&#8217;t monkey with any of &#8217;em.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He looks almost pained at that. &#8220;You&#8217;re
+chaffing me now, I suppose,&#8221; says he. &#8220;That
+sort of thing, though, I never indulge in. Humor,
+you know, is but froth on the deep seas
+of thought. It has never seemed to me quite
+worth one&#8217;s while. You will pardon my frankness,
+I know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Harold,&#8221; says I, &#8220;you&#8217;re a wizard. So
+it&#8217;s nix on the josh, eh?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;What singular metaphors you employ!&#8221;
+says he. &#8220;Do you know, I can hardly follow
+you. However, colloquial language does not
+offend my ear. It is only when I see it in
+print that I shudder.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Me too,&#8221; says I. &#8220;I&#8217;m just as sore on
+these foreign languages as anyone. So you&#8217;re
+visitin&#8217; next door, eh? Enjoyin&#8217; yourself?&#8221;</p>
+<p>That was a plain cue for Harold Burbank
+to launch out on the story of his life; but, say,
+he didn&#8217;t need any such encouragement. He
+was a willin&#8217; and ready converser, Harold was;
+and&mdash;my!&mdash;what a lot of classy words he did
+have on tap! First off I wondered how it
+was a youngster like him could dig up so many;
+but when I&#8217;d heard a little more about him
+I could account for it all.</p>
+<p>He&#8217;d cut his teeth, as you might say, on the
+encyclopedia. Harold&#8217;s father had been a professor
+of dead languages, and I guess he must
+have died of it. Anyway, Mother was a widow,
+and from things Harold dropped I judged she
+was more or less frisky, spendin&#8217; her time at
+bridge and chasin&#8217; teas and dinner parties. It
+was clear she wa&#8217;n&#8217;t any highbrow, such as
+Father must have been. All of which was disappointin&#8217;
+to Harold. He made no bones of
+sayin&#8217; so.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why pretend to approve of one&#8217;s parent,&#8221;
+says he, &#8220;when approval is undeserved?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span></p>
+<p>There was a lot of other folks that Harold
+disapproved of too. In fact, he was a mighty
+critical youth, only bein&#8217; able to entertain a
+good opinion of but one certain party. At any
+other time I expect he&#8217;d have given me an
+earache; but I&#8217;d been handed so much silence
+by our double Romeo-Juliet bunch that most
+any kind of conversation was welcome just
+then. So I lets him spiel away.</p>
+<p>And, say, he acts like he was hungry for the
+chance. Why, he gives me his ideas on every
+subject you could think of, from the way Napoleon
+got himself started on the toboggan,
+to the folly of eatin&#8217; fried ham for breakfast.
+He sure was a wonder, that kid! Two solid
+hours we chinned there in the summerhouse,
+and it was almost by main strength I broke
+away for a one o&#8217;clock dinner.</p>
+<p>Then, just as I&#8217;d got settled comf&#8217;table on
+the veranda in the afternoon, he shows up and
+begins again. There was nothin&#8217; diffident or
+backward about Harold. He didn&#8217;t have any
+doubts about whether he was welcome or not,
+and his confidence about bein&#8217; able to entertain
+was amazin&#8217;.</p>
+<p>It didn&#8217;t do any good to throw out hints that
+perhaps he was bein&#8217; missed at home, or to
+yawn and pretend you was sleepy. He was
+as persistent as a mosquito singin&#8217; its evenin&#8217;
+song, and most as irritatin&#8217;. Twice I gets up
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span>
+and pikes off, tryin&#8217; to shake him; but Harold
+trails right along too. Maybe I&#8217;d yearned for
+conversation. Well, I was gettin&#8217; it.</p>
+<p>At last I grows desp&#8217;rate, and in about two
+minutes more he would have been led home to
+Mother with the request that she tether him
+on her side of the fence, when I sees two of
+the lovers strollin&#8217; off to find a nook that wa&#8217;n&#8217;t
+preempted by the other pair. And all of a
+sudden I has this rosy thought.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Harold,&#8221; says I, &#8220;it&#8217;s most too bad, your
+wastin&#8217; all this flossy talk on me, who can&#8217;t
+appreciate its fine points as I should, when
+there go some young people who might be
+tickled to death to have you join &#8217;em. Suppose
+you try cheerin&#8217; &#8217;em up?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why,&#8221; says Harold, &#8220;I had not observed
+them before. Thank you for the suggestion.
+I will join them at once.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Does he? Say, for the next couple of hours
+I had the time of my life watchin&#8217; the
+maneuvers. First off I expect they must have
+thought him kind of cute, same as I did; but
+it wa&#8217;n&#8217;t long before they begun tryin&#8217; to lose
+him. If they shifted positions once, they did
+a dozen times, from the summerhouse to the
+rocks, then up to the veranda and back again,
+with Harold Burbank taggin&#8217; right along and
+spoutin&#8217; his best. He tackles first one pair, and
+then the other, until fin&#8217;lly they all retreats
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span>
+into the house. Harold hesitates a little about
+walkin&#8217; through the door after &#8217;em, until I
+waves my hand cordial.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Make yourself right to home, Harold,&#8221;
+says I. &#8220;Keep &#8217;em cheered up.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Not until he drives the girls off to their rooms
+and has Bobbie and Charles glarin&#8217; murderous
+at him, does he quit the sport and retire for
+supper.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come over again this evenin&#8217;,&#8221; says I.
+&#8220;You&#8217;re makin&#8217; a hit.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Harold thanks me some more and says he
+will. He&#8217;s a great one to keep his word too.
+Bobbie and Marjorie have hardly snuggled
+up in one end of a hammock to watch the
+moon do things to the wavelets before here is
+Harold, with a fresh line of talk that he&#8217;s bent
+on deliverin&#8217; while the mood is on.</p>
+<p>Gettin&#8217; no answer from his audience didn&#8217;t
+bother him a bit; for passin&#8217; out the monologue
+is his strong suit. Not to seem partial, he
+trails down Charlie and Helen and converses
+with them too. Course, all this occurrin&#8217; outside,
+I couldn&#8217;t watch everything that took
+place; but I sits in the lib&#8217;ry with Sadie a
+lot more contented than I&#8217;d been before that
+week.</p>
+<p>And when Marjorie drifts in alone, along
+about nine o&#8217;clock, and goes to drummin&#8217; on
+the piano, I smiles. Ten minutes later Helen
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span>
+appears too; and it&#8217;s only when neither of the
+boys show up that I begins wonderin&#8217;. I asks
+no questions; but goes out on a scoutin&#8217; trip.
+There&#8217;s nobody on the veranda at all. Down
+by the waterfront, though, I could hear voices,
+and I goes sleuthin&#8217; in that direction.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; I could hear Harold sayin&#8217; as I got
+most to the boat landin&#8217;, &#8220;the phosphorescence
+that ignorant sailors attribute to electricity in
+the air is really a minute marine animal
+which&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>I expect I&#8217;ll never know the rest; for just
+then there&#8217;s a break in the lecture.</p>
+<p>&#8220;One, two, three&mdash;now!&#8221; comes from Bobbie,
+and before Harold can let out a single
+squeal they&#8217;ve grabbed him firm and secure,
+one by the heels and the other by the collar,
+and they&#8217;ve begun sousin&#8217; him up and down
+off the edge of the float. It was high tide too.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Uggle-guggle! Wow!&#8221; remarks Harold
+between splashes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s right,&#8221; observes Charles through,
+his teeth. &#8220;Swallow a lot of it, you windbag!
+It&#8217;ll do you good.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Course, these young gents was guests of mine,
+and I hadn&#8217;t interfered before with their partic&#8217;lar
+way of enjoyin&#8217; themselves; so I couldn&#8217;t
+begin now. But after they was through, and
+a draggled, chokin&#8217;, splutterin&#8217; youth had gone
+beatin&#8217; it up the path and over towards the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span>
+next place, I strolls down to meet &#8217;em as they
+are comin&#8217; up to the house.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hope you didn&#8217;t see what happened down
+there just now, Professor,&#8221; says Bobbie.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Me?&#8221; says I. &#8220;Well, if I did I can forget
+it quick.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thanks, old man!&#8221; says both of &#8217;em, pattin&#8217;
+me friendly on the shoulder.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The little beast!&#8221; adds Charles. &#8220;He
+had the nerve to say you had put him up to it.
+That&#8217;s what finally earned him his ducking,
+you know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, well!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Such a nice spoken
+youngster too!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Huh!&#8221; says Bobbie. &#8220;I suppose there&#8217;ll
+be no end of a row about this when he gets
+home with his tale; but we&#8217;ll stand for it.
+Meanwhile let&#8217;s go up and get the girls to give
+us some music.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Say, I don&#8217;t believe Harold ever mentioned
+it to a soul. It&#8217;s a funny thing too, but he
+hasn&#8217;t been over here since. And someway,
+gettin&#8217; better acquainted with the boys in that
+fashion, made it pleasanter all round.</p>
+<p>But no more entertainin&#8217; lovers for us!
+Harolds ain&#8217;t common enough.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='VII_CORNELIA_SHOWS_SOME_CLASS' id='VII_CORNELIA_SHOWS_SOME_CLASS'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+<h3>CORNELIA SHOWS SOME CLASS</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, by the way, Shorty,&#8221; says Sadie to me
+the other mornin&#8217;, just as I&#8217;m makin&#8217; an early
+get-away for town.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Another postscript, eh?&#8221; says I. &#8220;Well,
+let it come over speedy.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s something for Mrs. Purdy-Pell,&#8221; says
+she. &#8220;I&#8217;d almost forgotten.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is it orderin&#8217; some fancy groceries, or
+sendin&#8217; out a new laundry artist?&#8221; says I.
+&#8220;If it is, why I guess I can&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, no,&#8221; says Sadie, givin&#8217; my tie an extra
+pat and brushin&#8217; some imaginary dust off my
+coat collar; &#8220;it&#8217;s about Cousin Cornelia. She&#8217;s
+in town, you know, and neither of the Purdy-Pells
+can get in to see her before next week
+on account of their garden party, and Cornelia
+is staying at a hotel alone, and they&#8217;re a little
+anxious about her. So look her up, won&#8217;t you?
+I told them you would. You don&#8217;t mind, do
+you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Me?&#8221; says I. &#8220;Why, I&#8217;ve been waitin&#8217;
+for this. Makin&#8217; afternoon calls on weepy old
+maids is my specialty.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;There, there!&#8221; says Sadie, followin&#8217; me
+out on the veranda. &#8220;Don&#8217;t play the martyr!
+Perhaps Cornelia isn&#8217;t the most entertaining
+person in the world, for she certainly has had
+her share of trouble; but it isn&#8217;t going to hurt
+you merely to find out how she is situated and
+ask if you can be of any help to her. You
+know, if there was anything she could do for
+us, she would&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, sure!&#8221; says I. &#8220;If I&#8217;m ever brought
+home on a shutter, I shall look for Cornelia
+to be waitin&#8217; on the mat with a needle and
+thread, ready to sew mournin&#8217; bands on the
+help.&#8221;</p>
+<p>That seems to be Cousin Cornelia&#8217;s steady
+job in life, tendin&#8217; out on the sick and being
+in at the obsequies. Anyway, she&#8217;s been at it
+ever since we knew her. She&#8217;s a cousin of
+Mr. Purdy-Pell&#8217;s, and his branch of the fam&#8217;ly,
+being composed mainly of antiques and chronic
+invalids, has been shufflin&#8217; off in one way or
+another for the last three or four years at
+the rate of about one every six months.</p>
+<p>Course, it was kind of sad to see a fam&#8217;ly
+peter out that way; but, as a matter of fact,
+most of &#8217;em was better off. At first the Purdy-Pells
+started in to chop all their social dates
+for three months after each sorrowful event;
+but when they saw they was being let in for
+a continuous performance, they sort of detailed
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span>
+Cousin Cornelia to do their heavy mournin&#8217; and
+had a black edge put on their stationery.</p>
+<p>Maybe Cornelia didn&#8217;t exactly yearn for the
+portfolio; but she didn&#8217;t have much choice about
+taking it. She was kind of a hanger-on, Cornelia
+was, you see, and she was used to going
+where she was sent. So when word would come
+that Aunt Mehitabel&#8217;s rheumatism was worse
+and was threatenin&#8217; her heart, that meant a
+hurry call for Cousin Cornelia. She&#8217;d pack a
+couple of suit cases full of black skirts and
+white shirtwaists, and off she&#8217;d go, not showin&#8217;
+up again at the Purdy-Pells&#8217; town house until
+Aunty had been safely planted and the headstone
+ordered.</p>
+<p>You couldn&#8217;t say but what she did it thorough,
+too; for she&#8217;d come back wearin&#8217; a long
+crape veil and lookin&#8217; pasty faced and wore
+out. Don&#8217;t know as I ever saw her when she
+wa&#8217;n&#8217;t either just comin&#8217; from where there&#8217;d
+been a funeral, or just startin&#8217; for where there
+was likely to be one.</p>
+<p>So she didn&#8217;t cut much of a figure in all
+the gay doin&#8217;s the Purdy-Pells was always
+mixed up in. And yet she wasn&#8217;t such a kiln
+dried prune as you might expect, after all.
+Rather a well built party, Cornelia was, with
+a face that would pass in a crowd, and a sort of
+longin&#8217; twist to her mouth corners as if she
+wanted to crack a smile now and then, providin&#8217;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span>
+the chance would only come her way.</p>
+<p>And it wa&#8217;n&#8217;t hardly a square deal to list
+her with the U.B.&#8217;s as soon as we did; for
+all this time she was doing the chief mourner
+act she was engaged to young Durgin. First
+off it was understood that she was waitin&#8217; for
+him to settle on whether he was goin&#8217; to be a
+minister or a doctor, him fiddlin&#8217; round at college,
+now takin&#8217; one course and then another;
+but at last he makes up his mind to chuck both
+propositions and take a hack at the law.</p>
+<p>Durgin got there, too, which was more or
+less of a surprise to all hands, and actually
+broke in as partner in a good firm. Then it
+was a case of Durgin waitin&#8217; for Cornelia; for
+about that time the relations got to droppin&#8217;
+off in one-two-three order, and she seemed to
+think that so long as she&#8217;d started in on the
+job of ridin&#8217; in the first carriage, she ought to
+see it through.</p>
+<p>Whether it was foolish of her or not, ain&#8217;t
+worth while debatin&#8217; now. Anyhow, she stuck
+to it until the last one had cashed in, puttin&#8217;
+Durgin off from month to month and year to
+year. Then it turns out that the last of the
+bunch, Uncle Theodore, had left her a good-sized
+wad that Purdy-Pell had always supposed
+was comin&#8217; to him, but which he didn&#8217;t
+grudge to Cornelia a bit.</p>
+<p>So there she was, all the lingerin&#8217; ones off
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span>
+her hands, and her sportin&#8217; a bank account of
+her own. She&#8217;s some tired out, though; so,
+after sendin&#8217; Durgin word that they might as
+well wait until fall now, she hikes off to some
+little place in New Hampshire and spends the
+summer restin&#8217; up. Next she comes down unexpected
+and hits New York.</p>
+<p>In the meantime, though, Durgin has suddenly
+decided to scratch his entry for that
+partic&#8217;lar Matrimonial Handicap. Not that he&#8217;s
+seriously int&#8217;rested in somebody else, but he&#8217;s
+kind of got weary hangin&#8217; around, and he&#8217;s
+seen a few livelier ones than Cornelia, and he
+feels that somehow him and her have made a
+great mistake. You know how they&#8217;re apt to
+talk when they get chilly below the ankles? He
+don&#8217;t hand this straight out to Cornelia, mind
+you, but goes to Mrs. Purdy-Pell and Sadie
+with the tale, wantin&#8217; to know what he&#8217;d better
+do.</p>
+<p>Now I ain&#8217;t got any grouch against Durgin.
+He&#8217;s all right, I expect, in his way, more or
+less of a stiff necked, mealy mouthed chump,
+I always thought; but they say he&#8217;s nice to
+his old mother, and he&#8217;s makin&#8217; good in the
+law business, and he ain&#8217;t bad to look at. The
+women folks takes his side right off. They say
+they don&#8217;t blame him a bit, and, without
+stoppin&#8217; to think how Cousin Cornelia is going
+to feel left alone there on the siding, they get
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span>
+busy pickin&#8217; out new candidates for Durgin
+to choose from.</p>
+<p>Well, that&#8217;s the situation when I&#8217;m handed
+this assignment to go and inspect the head of
+the Purdy-Pells&#8217; obituary department and see
+if she&#8217;s all comfy. Couldn&#8217;t have weighed very
+heavy on my mind; for I don&#8217;t think of it until
+late afternoon, just as I&#8217;m startin&#8217; to pull out
+for home. Then I says to myself that maybe
+it&#8217;ll do just as well if I ring her up on the
+&#8217;phone at her hotel. She&#8217;s in, all right, and I
+explains over the wire how anxious I am to
+know if she&#8217;s all right, and hopes nobody has
+tried to kidnap her yet, and asks if there&#8217;s anything
+I can do.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, how kind of you, Mr. McCabe!&#8221; says
+Cornelia. &#8220;Yes, I am perfectly well and quite
+safe here.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good!&#8221; says I. And then, seein&#8217; how easy
+I was gettin&#8217; out of it, I has to pile on the
+agony a little by addin&#8217;, &#8220;Ain&#8217;t there some way
+I can be useful, though? No errands you want
+done, or any place you&#8217;d like to be towed around
+to, eh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why&mdash;why&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; says she, hesitatin&#8217;.
+&#8220;Oh, but I couldn&#8217;t think of troubling you, you
+know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why not?&#8221; says I, gettin&#8217; reckless. &#8220;Just
+remember that I&#8217;d be tickled to death, any time
+you push the button.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;We-e-ell,&#8221; says she, &#8220;we were just wishing,
+Miss Stover and I, that we did have some
+gentleman friend who would&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Count me in,&#8221; says I. &#8220;What&#8217;s the
+game? Trip to Woodlawn Cemetery some day,
+or do you want to be piloted up to Grant&#8217;s
+Tomb?&#8221;</p>
+<p>No, it wa&#8217;n&#8217;t either of them festive splurges
+she had in mind. They wanted a dinner escort
+for that evenin&#8217;, she and Miss Stover. The
+other lady, she goes on to say, is a school teacher
+from up Boston way, that she&#8217;d made friends
+with durin&#8217; the summer. Miss Stover was
+takin&#8217; a year off, for the benefit of her nerves,
+and before she sailed on her Cook&#8217;s trip abroad
+she thought she&#8217;d like to see a little of New
+York. They&#8217;d been tryin&#8217; to knock around
+some alone, and had got along all right daytimes,
+but hadn&#8217;t dared venture out much at
+night. So if I wanted to be real generous, and
+it wouldn&#8217;t be too much of a bore, they&#8217;d be
+very thankful if I would&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+<p>&#8220;In a minute,&#8221; says I and, seein&#8217; I was up
+against it anyhow, I thought I might as well
+do it cheerful. &#8220;I&#8217;ll be up about six, eh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Chee!&#8221; says Swifty Joe, who always has
+his ear stretched out on such occasions, &#8220;you
+make a noise like you was fixin&#8217; up a date.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What good hearin&#8217; you have, Swifty!&#8221;
+says I. &#8220;Some day, though, you&#8217;ll strain one
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span>
+of them side flaps of yours. Yes, this is a date,
+and it&#8217;s with two of the sportiest female parties
+that ever dodged an old ladies&#8217; home.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Excitin&#8217; proposition, wa&#8217;n&#8217;t it? I spends the
+next half-hour battin&#8217; my head to think of some
+first class food parlor where I could cart a
+couple like this Boston schoolma&#8217;am and Cousin
+Cornelia without shockin&#8217; &#8217;em. There was the
+Martha Washington; but I knew I&#8217;d be barred
+there. Also there was some quiet fam&#8217;ly hotels
+I&#8217;d heard of up town; but I couldn&#8217;t remember
+exactly what street any of &#8217;em was on.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe Cornelia will have some plans of
+her own,&#8221; thinks I, as I gets into my silk faced
+dinner jacket and V-cut vest. &#8220;And I hope
+she ain&#8217;t wearin&#8217; more&#8217;n two thicknesses of
+crape veil now.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Well, soon after six I slides out, hops on one
+of these shed-as-you-enter surface cars, and
+rides up to the hotel. I&#8217;d been holdin&#8217; down
+one of the velvet chairs in the ladies&#8217; parlor
+for near half an hour, and was wonderin&#8217; if
+Cornelia had run out of black headed pins, or
+what, when I pipes off a giddy specimen in
+wistaria costume that drifts in and begins
+squintin&#8217; around like she was huntin&#8217; for some
+one. Next thing I knew she&#8217;d spotted me and
+was sailin&#8217; right over.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, there you are!&#8221; she gurgles, holdin&#8217;
+out her hand.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Excuse me, lady,&#8221; says I, sidesteppin&#8217; behind
+the chair, &#8220;but ain&#8217;t you tryin&#8217; to tag
+the wrong party?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why,&#8221; says she, lettin&#8217; out a chuckle,
+&#8220;don&#8217;t you know me, Mr. McCabe?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not yet,&#8221; says I; &#8220;but it looks like I
+would if&mdash;&mdash;Great snakes!&#8221;</p>
+<p>And honest, you could hardly have covered
+my face cavity with a waffle iron when I drops
+to the fact that it&#8217;s Cousin Cornelia. In place
+of the dismal female I&#8217;d been expectin&#8217;, here&#8217;s
+a chirky party in vivid regalia that shows class
+in every line. Oh, it&#8217;s a happy days uniform,
+all right, from the wide brimmed gauze lid
+with the long heliotrope feather trailin&#8217; over
+one side, to the lavender kid pumps.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gee!&#8221; I gasps. &#8220;The round is on me,
+Miss Cornelia. But I wa&#8217;n&#8217;t lookin&#8217; for you
+in&mdash;in&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know,&#8221; says she. &#8220;This is the first time
+I&#8217;ve worn colors for years, and I feel so odd.
+I hope I don&#8217;t look too&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You look all to the skookum,&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>It wa&#8217;n&#8217;t any jolly, either. There never was
+any real sharp angles to Cornelia, and now I
+come to reckon up I couldn&#8217;t place her as
+more&#8217;n twenty-six or twenty-seven at the outside.
+So why shouldn&#8217;t she show up fairly
+well in a Gibson model?</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s so good of you to come to our rescue,&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span>
+says she. &#8220;Miss Stover will be down presently.
+Now, where shall we go to dinner?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Well, I see in a minute I&#8217;ve got to revise
+my plans; so I begins namin&#8217; over some of the
+swell grillrooms and cafes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, we have been to most of those, all by
+ourselves,&#8221; says Cornelia. &#8220;What we would
+like to see to-night is some real&mdash;well, a place
+where we couldn&#8217;t go alone, out somewhere&mdash;an
+automobile resort, for instance.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Whe-e-ew!&#8221; says I through my front
+teeth. &#8220;Say, Miss Cornie, but you are gettin&#8217;
+out of the bereft class for fair! I guess it&#8217;s
+comin&#8217; to you, though. Now jest let me get
+an idea of how far you want to go.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why,&#8221; says she, shruggin&#8217; her shoulders,&mdash;&#8220;how
+is it you put such things?&mdash;the limit, I
+suppose?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Honest?&#8221; says I. &#8220;Then how about
+Clover Blossom Inn?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Heard about that joint, haven&#8217;t you? Of
+course. There&#8217;s a lot of joy-ride tank stations
+strung along Jerome-ave. and the Yonkers
+road; but when it comes to a genuine tabasco
+flavored chorus girls&#8217; rest, the Clover Blossom
+has most of the others lookin&#8217; like playgrounds
+for little mothers. But Cornie don&#8217;t do any
+dodgin&#8217;.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fine!&#8221; says she. &#8220;I&#8217;ve read about that
+inn.&#8221; Then she hurries on to plan out the details.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span>
+I must go over to Times Square and
+hire a nice looking touring car for the evening.
+And I mustn&#8217;t let Miss Stover know how much
+it costs; for Cornelia wants to do that part of
+it by her lonely.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The dinner we are to go shares on,&#8221; says
+she.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Couldn&#8217;t think of it,&#8221; says I. &#8220;Let that
+stand as my blow.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, indeed,&#8221; says Cornelia. &#8220;We have
+the money all put aside, and I sha&#8217;n&#8217;t like it.
+Here it is, and I want you to be sure you spend
+the whole of it,&#8221; and with that she shoves over
+a couple of fives.</p>
+<p>I couldn&#8217;t help grinnin&#8217; as I takes it. Maybe
+you&#8217;ve settled a dinner bill for three and a
+feed for the shofer at the Clover Blossom;
+but not with a ten-spot, eh?</p>
+<p>And while Cornelia is goin&#8217; back in the elevator
+after the schoolma&#8217;am, I scoots over to
+get a machine. After convincin&#8217; two or three
+of them leather capped pirates that I didn&#8217;t
+want to buy their blamed outfits, I fin&#8217;lly beats
+one down to twenty-five and goes back after
+the ladies.</p>
+<div class='figcenter'>
+<img src='images/illus-110.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 498px; height: 323px;' /><br />
+<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 498px;'>
+&#8220;<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Cornelia whispered about the peroxide puffed girl</span>&#8221;<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Miss Stover don&#8217;t turn out to be any such
+star as Cornelia; but she don&#8217;t look so much like
+a suffragette as I expected. She&#8217;s plump, and
+middle aged, and plain dressed; but there&#8217;s
+more or less style to the way she carries herself.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span>
+Also she has just a suspicion of eye
+twinkle behind the glasses, which suggests that
+perhaps some of this programme is due to
+her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;All aboard for the Clover Blossom!&#8221; says
+I, handin&#8217; &#8217;em into the tonneau; &#8220;that is, as
+soon as I run in here to the telephone booth.&#8221;</p>
+<p>It had come to me only at that minute what
+a shame it was this stunt of Cornelia&#8217;s was
+goin&#8217; to be wasted on an audience that couldn&#8217;t
+appreciate the fine points, and I&#8217;d thought of a
+scheme that might supply the gap. So I calls
+up an old friend of mine and has a little confab.</p>
+<p>By the time we&#8217;d crossed the Harlem and
+had got straightened out on the parkway with
+our gas lamps lighted, and the moon comin&#8217;
+up over the trees, and hundreds of other cars
+whizzin&#8217; along in both directions, Cornelia and
+her schoolma&#8217;am friend was chatterin&#8217; away
+like a couple of boardin&#8217; school girls. There&#8217;s
+no denyin&#8217; that it does get into your blood, that
+sort of ridin&#8217;. Why, even I begun to feel some
+frisky!</p>
+<p>And look at Cornelia! For years she&#8217;d been
+givin&#8217; directions about where to put the floral
+wreaths, and listenin&#8217; to wills being read, and
+all summer long she&#8217;d been buried in a little
+backwoods boardin&#8217; house, where the most excitin&#8217;
+event of the day was watchin&#8217; the cows
+come home, or going down for the mail. Can
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span>
+you blame her for workin&#8217; up a cheek flush and
+rattlin&#8217; off nonsense?</p>
+<p>Clover Blossom Inn does look fine and fancy
+at night, too, with all the colored lights strung
+around, and the verandas crowded with tables,
+and the Gypsy orchestra sawin&#8217; away, and new
+parties landin&#8217; from the limousines every few
+minutes. Course, I knew they&#8217;d run against
+perfect ladies hittin&#8217; up cocktails and cigarettes
+in the cloak room, and hear more or less high
+spiced remarks; but this was what they&#8217;d
+picked out to view.</p>
+<p>So I orders the brand of dinner the waiter
+hints I ought to have,&mdash;little necks, okra soup,
+broiled lobster, guinea hen, and so on, with a
+large bottle of fizz decoratin&#8217; the silver tub on
+the side and some sporty lookin&#8217; mineral for
+me. It don&#8217;t make any diff&#8217;rence whether
+you&#8217;ve got a wealthy water thirst or not, when
+you go to one of them tootsy palaces you might
+just as well name your vintage first as last;
+for any cheap skates of suds consumers is apt
+to find that the waiter&#8217;s made a mistake and
+their table has been reserved for someone else.</p>
+<p>But if you don&#8217;t mind payin&#8217; four prices, and
+can stand the comp&#8217;ny at the adjoinin&#8217; tables,
+just being part of the picture and seeing it
+from the inside is almost worth the admission.
+If there&#8217;s any livelier purple spots on the map
+than these gasolene road houses from eight-thirty
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span>
+<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>p. m.</span> to two-thirty in the mornin&#8217;, I&#8217;ll let
+you name &#8217;em.</p>
+<p>Cornelia rather shies at the sight of the fat
+bottle peekin&#8217; out of the cracked ice; but she
+gets over that feelin&#8217; after Miss Stover has
+expressed her sentiments.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Champagne!&#8221; says the schoolma&#8217;am.
+&#8220;Oh, how perfectly delightful! Do you know,
+I always have wanted to know how it tasted.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Say, she knows all about it now. Not that
+she put away any more&#8217;n a lady should,&mdash;at
+the Clover Blossom,&mdash;but she had tackled a dry
+Martini first, and then she kept on tastin&#8217; and
+tastin&#8217; her glass of fizz, and the waiter keeps
+fillin&#8217; it up, and that twinkle in her eye develops
+more and more, and her conversation
+gets livelier and livelier. So does Cornelia&#8217;s.
+They gets off some real bright things, too.
+You&#8217;d never guess there was so much fun in
+Cornie, or that she could look so much like a
+stunner.</p>
+<p>She was just leanin&#8217; over to whisper something
+to me about the peroxide puffed girl at
+the next table, and I was tryin&#8217; to stand bein&#8217;
+tickled in the neck by that long feather of hers
+while I listens, and Miss Stover was snuggled
+up real chummy on the other side, when I looks
+up the aisle and sees a little group watchin&#8217;
+us with their mouths open and their eyebrows
+up.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span></p>
+<p>Leadin&#8217; the way is Pinckney. Oh, he&#8217;d done
+his part, all right, just as I&#8217;d told him over the
+wire; for right behind him is Durgin, starin&#8217;
+at Cornelia until he was pop eyed.</p>
+<p>But that wa&#8217;n&#8217;t all. Trust Pinckney to add
+something. Beyond Durgin is Mrs. Purdy-Pell&mdash;and
+Sadie. Now, I&#8217;ve seen Mrs. McCabe
+when she&#8217;s been some jarred; but I don&#8217;t
+know as I ever watched the effect of such a jolt
+as this. You see, Cornelia&#8217;s back was to her,
+and all Sadie can see is that wistaria lid with
+the feather danglin&#8217; down my neck.</p>
+<p>Sadie don&#8217;t indulge in any preliminaries.
+She marches right along, with her chin in the
+air, and glues them Irish blue eyes of hers on
+me in a way I can feel yet. &#8220;Well, I must
+say!&#8221; says she.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eh?&#8221; says I, tryin&#8217; hard to put on a pleased
+grin. &#8220;So Pinckney brought you along too,
+did he? Lovely evenin&#8217;, ain&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, Sadie?&#8221; says Cornelia, jumpin&#8217; up
+and givin&#8217; &#8217;em a full face view. And you
+should have seen how that knocks the wind out
+of Sadie.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wha-a-at!&#8221; says she. &#8220;You?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course,&#8221; says Cornie. &#8220;And we&#8217;re
+just having the grandest lark, and&mdash;&mdash;Oh!
+Why, Durgin! Where in the world did you
+come from? How jolly!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Ain&#8217;t it?&#8221; says I. &#8220;You see, Sadie, I&#8217;m
+carryin&#8217; out instructions.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Well, the minute she gets wise that it&#8217;s all a
+job that Pinckney and I have put up between
+us, and discovers that my giddy lookin&#8217; friend
+is only Cousin Cornelia doin&#8217; the butterfly act,
+the thunder storm is all over. The waiter
+shoves up another table, and they plants Durgin
+next to Cornie, and the festivities takes a
+new start.</p>
+<p>Did Durgin boy forget all about them chilly
+feet of his? Why, you could almost see the
+frost startin&#8217; out before he&#8217;d said a dozen
+words, and by the time he&#8217;d let the whole effect
+sink in, he was no nearer contractin&#8217; chilblains
+than a Zulu with his heels in the campfire.</p>
+<p>What pleases me most, though, was the scientific
+duck I made in the last round. We&#8217;d
+gone clear through the menu, and they was
+finishin&#8217; up their cordials, when I spots the
+waiter comin&#8217; with a slip of paper on his tray
+as long as a pianola roll.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hey, Pinckney,&#8221; says I, &#8220;see what&#8217;s
+comin&#8217; now!&#8221;</p>
+<p>And when Pinckney reached around and discovers
+what it is, he digs down for his roll
+like a true sport, never battin&#8217; an eyelash.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You would ring in the fam&#8217;ly on me, would
+you,&#8221; says I, &#8220;when I&#8217;m showin&#8217; lady friends
+the sights?&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='VIII_DOPING_OUT_AN_ODD_ONE' id='VIII_DOPING_OUT_AN_ODD_ONE'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+<h3>DOPING OUT AN ODD ONE</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Say, notice any deep sea roll about my walk?
+No? Well, maybe you can get the tarry perfume
+as I pass by? Funny you don&#8217;t; for I&#8217;ve
+been a Vice Commodore for most three weeks
+now. Yes, that&#8217;s on the level&mdash;belay my spinnaker
+taffrail if it ain&#8217;t!</p>
+<p>That&#8217;s what I get for bein&#8217; one of the charter
+members of the Rockhurst Yacht Club. You
+didn&#8217;t, eh? Well, say, I&#8217;m one of the yachtiest
+yachters that ever jibbed a gangway. Not that
+I do any sailin&#8217; exactly; but I guess Sadie and
+me each paid good money for our shares of
+club stock, and if that ain&#8217;t as foolish an act
+as you can find in the nautical calendar, then
+I&#8217;ll eat the binnacle boom.</p>
+<p>Course, this Vice Commodore stunt was sort
+of sprung on me; for I&#8217;d been such an active
+member I didn&#8217;t even know the bloomin&#8217; clubhouse
+was finished until here the other day
+I gets this bulletin from the annual meetin&#8217;,
+along with the programme for the openin&#8217; exercises.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Gee!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Vice Commodore! Say,
+there must be some mistake about this.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not at all,&#8221; says Sadie.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure there is,&#8221; says I. &#8220;Why, I hardly
+know one end of a boat from the other; and
+besides I ain&#8217;t got any clubby habits. They&#8217;ve
+been let in wrong, that&#8217;s all. I&#8217;ll resign.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll do nothing of the sort!&#8221; says Sadie.
+&#8220;When I took all that trouble to have you win
+over that ridiculous Bronson-Smith!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eh?&#8221; says I. &#8220;Been playin&#8217; the Mrs.
+Taft, have you? In that case, I expect I&#8217;ll
+have to stay with it. But, honest, you can
+look for a season of perfectly punk Vice Commodorin&#8217;.&#8221;</p>
+<p>As it turns out, though, there ain&#8217;t one in
+ten members that knows much more about
+yachtin&#8217; than I do. Navigatin&#8217; porch rockers,
+orderin&#8217; all hands up for fancy drinks, and
+conductin&#8217; bridge whist regattas was their chief
+sea-goin&#8217; accomplishments; and when it come
+to makin&#8217; myself useful, who was it, I&#8217;d like
+to know, that chucked the boozy steward off
+the float when he had two of the house committee
+treed up the signal mast?</p>
+<p>I suspect that&#8217;s how it is I&#8217;m played up so
+prominent for this house warmin&#8217; episode.
+Anyway, when I arrives there on the great
+night&mdash;me all got up fancy in a double breasted
+serge coat, white flannel pants, and cork soled
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span>
+canvas shoes&mdash;I finds they&#8217;ve put me on the
+reception committee; and that, besides welcomin&#8217;
+invited guests, I&#8217;m expected to keep one
+eye peeled for outsiders, to see that nobody
+starts nothin&#8217;.</p>
+<p>So I&#8217;m on deck, as you might say, and more
+or less conspicuous, when this Larchmont delegation
+is landed and comes stringin&#8217; up. It
+was &#8220;Ahoy there, Captain This!&#8221; and &#8220;How
+are you, Captain That?&#8221; from the rest of the
+committee, who was some acquainted; and me
+buttin&#8217; around earnest tryin&#8217; to find someone
+to shake hands with, when I runs across this
+thick set party in the open front Tuxedo regalia,
+with his opera hat down over one eye
+and a long cigar raked up coquettish from the
+sou&#8217;west corner of his face.</p>
+<p>Know him? I guess! It&#8217;s Peter K. Tracey;
+yes, the one that has his name on so many
+four-sheet posters. Noticed how he always has
+&#8217;em read, ain&#8217;t you? &#8220;Mr. Peter K. Tracey
+presents Booth Keene, the sterling young
+actor.&#8221; Never forgets that &#8220;Mr.&#8221;; but, say,
+I knew him when he signed it just &#8220;P. Tracey,&#8221;
+and chewed his tongue some at gettin&#8217; that
+down.</p>
+<p>Them was the days when he&#8217;d have jumped
+at the chance of managin&#8217; my ring exhibits,
+and he was known in sportin&#8217; circles as Chunk
+Tracey. I ain&#8217;t followed all his moves since
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span>
+then; but I know he got to handlin&#8217; the big
+heavyweights on exhibition tours, broke into
+the theatrical game with an animal show that
+was a winner, and has stuck to the boxoffice
+end ever since.</p>
+<p>Why shouldn&#8217;t he, with a half ownership in
+a mascot Rube drama that never has less than
+six road companies playin&#8217; it, and at least one
+hit on Broadway every season? I admit I was
+some surprised, though, to hear of him buyin&#8217;
+a house on Fifth-ave. and makin&#8217; a stab at
+mixin&#8217; in society. That last I could hardly
+believe; but here he was, and lookin&#8217; as much
+jarred at findin&#8217; me as I was to see him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I&#8217;ll be hanged!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Chunk
+Tracey!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, hello, Shorty!&#8221; says he, and neither
+one of us remembers the &#8220;Charmed to see yuh,
+old chappy&#8221; lines we should have been shootin&#8217;
+off. Seems he&#8217;d been towed along with a bunch
+of near-swells that didn&#8217;t dare treat him as if
+he really belonged, and he was almost frothin&#8217;
+at the mouth.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Talk about your society folks!&#8221; says he.
+&#8220;Why,&mdash;blankety blank &#8217;em!&mdash;I can go down
+the Rialto any afternoon, pick up a dozen people
+at twenty-five a week, drill &#8217;em four days, and
+give a better imitation than this crowd ever
+thought of putting up!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes; but look who you are, Chunk,&#8221; says I.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I know,&#8221; says he.</p>
+<p>And he meant it too. He always was about
+the cockiest little rooster in the business; but
+I&#8217;d rather expected eight or ten years of ups
+and downs in the theatrical game, bein&#8217; thrown
+out of the trust and crawlin&#8217; back on his knees
+would have tempered him down some.</p>
+<p>You couldn&#8217;t notice it, though. In fact, this
+chesty, cocksure attitude seemed to have grown
+on him, and it was plain that most of his soreness
+just now come from findin&#8217; himself in with
+a lot of folks that didn&#8217;t take any special pains
+to admit what a great man he was. So, as
+him and me was sort of left to flock by ourselves,
+I undertook the job of supplyin&#8217; a few
+soothin&#8217; remarks, just for old time&#8217;s sake. And
+that&#8217;s how it was he got rung in on this little
+mix-up with Cap&#8217;n Spiller.</p>
+<p>You see, the way the committee had mapped
+it out, part of the doin&#8217;s was a grand illumination
+of the fleet. Anyway, they had all the
+craft they could muster anchored in a semicircle
+off the end of the float and trimmed up
+with Japanese lanterns. Well, just about time
+for lightin&#8217; up, into the middle of the fleet
+comes driftin&#8217; a punk lookin&#8217; old sloop with
+dirty, patched sails, some shirts and things
+hangin&#8217; from the riggin&#8217;, and a length of stovepipe
+stickin&#8217; through the cabin roof. When
+the skipper has struck the exact center, he
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span>
+throws over his mud hook and lets his sail
+run.</p>
+<p>Not bein&#8217; posted on the details, I didn&#8217;t know
+but that was part of the show, until the chairman
+of my committee comes rushin&#8217; up to me
+all excited, and points it out.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I say, McCabe!&#8221; says he. &#8220;Do you
+see that?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If I didn&#8217;t,&#8221; says I, &#8220;I could almost smell
+it from here. Some new member, is it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Member!&#8221; he gasps. &#8220;Why, it&#8217;s some
+dashed old fisherman! We&mdash;we cawn&#8217;t have
+him stay there, you know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; says I, &#8220;he seems to be gettin&#8217;
+plenty of advice on that point.&#8221; And he was;
+for they was shoutin&#8217; things at him through
+a dozen megaphones.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But you know, McCabe,&#8221; goes on the chairman,
+&#8220;you ought to go out and send him
+away. That&#8217;s one of your duties.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eh?&#8221; says I. &#8220;How long since I&#8217;ve been
+official marine bouncer for this organization?
+G&#8217;wan! Go tell him yourself!&#8221;</p>
+<p>We had quite an argument over it too, with
+Peter K. chimin&#8217; in on my side; but, while
+the chappy insists that it&#8217;s my job to fire the
+old hooker off the anchorage, I draws the line
+at interferin&#8217; with anything beyond the shore.
+Course, it might spoil the effect; but the way it
+struck me was that we didn&#8217;t own any more of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span>
+Long Island Sound than anyone else, and I
+says so flat.</p>
+<p>That must have been how the boss of the
+old sloop felt about it too; for he don&#8217;t pay
+any attention to the howls or threats. He just
+makes things snug and then goes below and
+starts pokin&#8217; about in his dinky little cabin.
+Judgin&#8217; by the motions, he was gettin&#8217; a late
+supper.</p>
+<p>Anyway, they couldn&#8217;t budge him, even
+though half the club was stewin&#8217; about it. And,
+someway, that seemed to tickle Chunk and me
+a lot. We watched him spread his grub out
+on the cabin table, roll up his sleeves, and
+square away like he had a good appetite, just
+as if he&#8217;d been all by himself, instead of right
+here in the midst of so many flossy yachtsmen.</p>
+<p>He even had music to eat by; for part of the
+programme was the turnin&#8217; loose of one of these
+high priced cabinet disk machines, that was on
+the Commodore&#8217;s big schooner, and feedin&#8217; it
+with Caruso and Melba records. There was
+so much chatterin&#8217; goin&#8217; on around us on the
+verandas, and so many corks poppin&#8217; and
+glasses clinkin&#8217;, that the skipper must have got
+more benefit from the concert than anyone else.
+At last he wipes his mouth on his sleeve careful,
+fills his pipe, and crawls out on deck to
+enjoy the view.</p>
+<p>It was well worth lookin&#8217; at too; for, although
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span>
+there was most too many clouds for
+the moon to do much execution, here was all
+the yachts lighted up, and the clubhouse blazin&#8217;
+and gay, and the water lappin&#8217; gentle in between.
+He gazes out at it placid for a minute
+or so, and then we see him dive down into the
+cabin. He comes back with something or other
+that we couldn&#8217;t make out, and the next thing
+I knows I finds myself keepin&#8217; time with my
+foot to one of them lively, swingin&#8217; old tunes
+which might have been &#8220;The Campbells Are
+Coming&#8221; or might not; but anyway it was
+enough to give you that tingly sensation in
+your toes. And it was proceedin&#8217; from the
+after deck of that old hulk.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, well!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Bagpipes!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Bagpipes be blowed!&#8221; says Chunk.
+&#8220;That&#8217;s an accordion he&#8217;s playing. Listen!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Say, I was listenin&#8217;, and with both ears.
+Also other folks was beginnin&#8217; to do the same.
+Inside of five minutes, too, all the chatter has
+died down, and as I glanced around at the
+tables I could see that whole crowd of fancy
+dressed folks noddin&#8217; and beatin&#8217; time with
+their fans and cigars and fizz glasses. Even
+the waiters was standin&#8217; still, or tiptoin&#8217; so&#8217;s
+to take it in.</p>
+<p>Ever hear one of them out-of-date music
+bellows handled by a natural born artist? Say,
+I&#8217;ve always been partial to accordions myself,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span>
+though I never had the courage to own up to
+it in public; but this was the first time I&#8217;d ever
+heard one pumped in that classy fashion.</p>
+<p>Music! Why, as he switches off onto &#8220;The
+Old Folks at Home,&#8221; you&#8217;d thought there was
+a church organ and a full orchestra out there!
+Maybe comin&#8217; across the water had something
+to do with it; but hanged if it wa&#8217;n&#8217;t great!
+And of all the fine old tunes he gave us&mdash;&#8220;Nellie
+Gray,&#8221; &#8220;Comin&#8217; Through the Rye,&#8221;
+&#8220;Annie Laurie,&#8221; and half a dozen more.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Chunk,&#8221; says I, as the concert ends and
+the folks begin to applaud, &#8220;there&#8217;s only one
+thing to be done in a case like this. Lemme
+take that lid of yours.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Certainly,&#8221; says he, and drops a fiver into
+it before he passes it over. That wa&#8217;n&#8217;t the
+only green money I collects, either, and by the
+time I&#8217;ve made the entire round I must have
+gathered up more&#8217;n a quart of spendin&#8217; currency.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hold on there, Shorty,&#8221; says Chunk, as I
+starts out to deliver the collection. &#8220;I&#8217;d like
+to go with you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come along, then,&#8221; says I. &#8220;I guess
+some of these sailormen will row us out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>What we had framed up was one of these
+husky, rugged, old hearts of oak, who would
+choke up some on receivin&#8217; the tribute and give
+us his blessin&#8217; in a sort of &#8220;Shore Acres&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span>
+curtain speech. Part of that description he
+lives up to. He&#8217;s some old, all right; but he
+ain&#8217;t handsome or rugged. He&#8217;s a lean, dyspeptic
+lookin&#8217; old party, with a wrinkled face
+colored up like a pair of yellow shoes at the
+end of a hard season. His hair is long and
+matted, and he ain&#8217;t overly clean in any detail.
+He don&#8217;t receive us real hearty, either.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hey, keep your hands off that rail!&#8221; he
+sings out, reachin&#8217; for a boathook as we come
+alongside.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s all right, Cap,&#8221; says I. &#8220;We&#8217;re
+friends.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Git out!&#8221; says he. &#8220;I ain&#8217;t got any
+friends.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure you have, old scout,&#8221; says I. &#8220;Anyway,
+there&#8217;s a lot of people ashore that was
+mighty pleased with the way you tickled that
+accordion. Here&#8217;s proof of it too,&#8221; and I holds
+up the hat.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Huh!&#8221; says he, gettin&#8217; his eye on the contents.
+&#8220;Come aboard, then. Here, I guess
+you can stow that stuff in there,&#8221; and blamed
+if he don&#8217;t shove out an empty lard pail for
+me to dump the money in. That&#8217;s as excited
+as he gets about it too.</p>
+<p>Say, I&#8217;d have indulged in about two more
+minutes of dialogue with that ugly faced old
+pirate, and then I&#8217;d beat it for shore good and
+disgusted, if it hadn&#8217;t been for Chunk Tracey.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span>
+But he jumps in, as enthusiastic as if he was
+interviewin&#8217; some foreign Prince, presses a
+twenty-five-cent perfecto on the Cap&#8217;n, and begins
+pumpin&#8217; out of him the story of his
+life.</p>
+<p>And when Chunk really enthuses it&#8217;s got to
+be a mighty cold proposition that don&#8217;t thaw
+some. Ten to one, too, if this had been a nice,
+easy talkin&#8217;, gentle old party, willin&#8217; to tell all
+he knew in the first five minutes, Chunk
+wouldn&#8217;t have bothered with him; but, because
+he don&#8217;t show any gratitude, mushy or otherwise,
+and acts like he had a permanent, ingrowin&#8217;
+grouch, Chunk is right there with the
+persistence. He drags out of him that he&#8217;s
+Cap&#8217;n Todd Spiller, hailin&#8217; originally from
+Castine, Maine, and that the name of his old
+tub is the Queen of the Seas. He says his chief
+business is clammin&#8217;; but he does a little fishin&#8217;
+and freightin&#8217; on the side. He don&#8217;t work
+much, though, because it don&#8217;t take a lot to
+keep him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But you have a wife somewhere ashore,
+I suppose,&#8221; suggests Chunk, &#8220;a dear old
+soul who waits anxiously for you to come
+back?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Bah!&#8221; grunts Cap&#8217;n Spiller, knockin&#8217; the
+heel out of his corncob vicious. &#8220;I ain&#8217;t got
+any use for women.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I see,&#8221; says Chunk, gazin&#8217; up sentimental
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span>
+at the moon. &#8220;A blighted romance of youth;
+some fair, fickle maid who fled with another and
+left you alone?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No such luck,&#8221; says Spiller. &#8220;My trouble
+was havin&#8217; too many to once. Drat &#8217;em!&#8221;</p>
+<p>And you&#8217;d most thought Chunk would have
+let it go at that; but not him! He only tackles
+Spiller along another line. &#8220;What I want to
+know, Captain,&#8221; says he, &#8220;is where you learned
+to play the accordion so well.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Never learned &#8217;tall,&#8221; growls Spiller.
+&#8220;Just picked it up from a Portugee that tried
+to knife me afterwards.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t say!&#8221; says Chunk. &#8220;But
+there&#8217;s the musician&#8217;s soul in you. You love
+it, don&#8217;t you? You use it to express your deep,
+unsatisfied longings?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Guess so,&#8221; says the Captain. &#8220;I allus
+plays most when my dyspepshy is worst. It&#8217;s
+kind of a relief.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Um-m-m&mdash;ah!&#8221; says Chunk. &#8220;Many
+geniuses are that way. You must come into
+town, though, and let me take you to hear some
+real, bang up, classical music.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not me!&#8221; grunts Spiller. &#8220;I can make
+all the music I want myself.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How about plays, then?&#8221; says Chunk.
+&#8220;Now, wouldn&#8217;t you like to see the best show
+on Broadway?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, sir,&#8221; says he, prompt and vigorous.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span>
+&#8220;I ain&#8217;t never seen any shows, and don&#8217;t want
+to seen one, either.&#8221;</p>
+<p>And, say, along about that time, what with
+the stale cookin&#8217; and bilge water scents that
+was comin&#8217; from the stuffy cabin, and this
+charmin&#8217; mood that old Spiller was in, I was
+gettin&#8217; restless. &#8220;Say, Chunk,&#8221; I breaks in,
+&#8220;you may be enjoyin&#8217; this, all right; but I&#8217;ve
+got enough. It&#8217;s me for shore! Goin&#8217;
+along?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not yet,&#8221; says he. &#8220;Have the boat come
+back for me in about an hour.&#8221;</p>
+<p>It was nearer two, though, before he shows
+up again, and his face is fairly beamin&#8217;.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; says I, &#8220;did you adopt the old
+pirate, or did he adopt you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wait and see,&#8221; says he, noddin&#8217; his head
+cocky. &#8220;Anyway, he&#8217;s promised to show up
+at my office to-morrow afternoon.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You must be stuck on entertaining a
+grouchy old lemon like that,&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But he&#8217;s a genius,&#8221; says Chunk. &#8220;Just
+what I&#8217;ve been looking for as a head liner in
+a new vaudeville house I&#8217;m opening next
+month.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What!&#8221; says I. &#8220;You ain&#8217;t thinkin&#8217; of
+puttin&#8217; that old sour face on the stage, are
+you? Say, you&#8217;re batty!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Batty, am I?&#8221; says Chunk, kind of swellin&#8217;
+up. &#8220;All right, I&#8217;ll show you. I&#8217;ve made
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span>
+half a million, my boy, by just such batty
+moves as that. It&#8217;s because I know people,
+know &#8217;em through and through, from what
+they&#8217;ll pay to hear, to the ones who can give
+&#8217;em what they want. I&#8217;m a discoverer of talent,
+Shorty. Where do I get my stars from?
+Pick &#8217;em up anywhere. I don&#8217;t go to London
+and Paris and pay fancy salaries. I find my
+attractions first hand, sign&#8217; em up on long
+contracts, and take the velvet that comes in
+myself. That&#8217;s my way, and I guess I&#8217;ve made
+good.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe you have,&#8221; says I; &#8220;but I&#8217;m
+guessin&#8217; this is where you stub your toe. Hot
+line that&#8217;ll be for the head of a bill, won&#8217;t it&mdash;an
+accordion player? Think you can get that
+across?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Think!&#8221; says Chunk, gettin&#8217; indignant as
+usual, because someone suggests he can fall
+down on anything. &#8220;Why, I&#8217;m going to put
+that over twice a day, to twelve hundred-dollar
+houses! No, I don&#8217;t think; I know!&#8221;</p>
+<p>And just for that it wouldn&#8217;t have taken
+much urgin&#8217; for me to have put up a few
+yellow ones that he was makin&#8217; a wrong forecast.</p>
+<p>But, say, you didn&#8217;t happen to be up to the
+openin&#8217; of Peter K.&#8217;s new Alcazar the other
+night, did you? Well, Sadie and I was, on
+account of being included in one of Chunk&#8217;s
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span>
+complimentary box parties. And, honest, when
+they sprung that clouded moonlight water view,
+with the Long Island lights in the distance, and
+the Sound steamers passin&#8217; back and forth
+at the back, and the rocks in front, hanged if I
+didn&#8217;t feel like I was on the veranda of our
+yacht club, watchin&#8217; it all over again, the same
+as it was that night!</p>
+<p>Then in from one side comes this boat; no
+ordinary property piece faked up from something
+in stock; but a life sized model that&#8217;s a
+dead ringer for the old Queen of the Seas,
+even to the stovepipe and the shirts hung from
+the forestay. It comes floatin&#8217; in lazy and
+natural, and when Cap Spiller goes forward
+to heave over the anchor he drops it with a
+splash into real water. He&#8217;s wearin&#8217; the same
+old costume,&mdash;shirt sleeves, cob pipe, and all,&mdash;and
+when he begins to putter around in the
+cabin, blamed if you couldn&#8217;t smell the onions
+fryin&#8217; and the coffee boilin&#8217;. Yes, sir, Chunk
+had put it all on!</p>
+<p>Did the act get &#8217;em interested? Say, there
+was fifteen straight minutes of this scenic business,
+with not a word said; but the house was
+so still I could hear my watch tickin&#8217;. But
+when he drags out that old accordion, plants
+himself on the cabin roof with one leg swingin&#8217;
+careless over the side, and opens up with them
+old tunes of his&mdash;well, he had &#8217;em all with him,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span>
+from the messenger boys in the twenty-five-cent
+gallery to the brokers in the fifteen-dollar
+boxes. He takes five curtain calls, and the orchestra
+circle was still demandin&#8217; more when
+they rung down the front drop.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Chunk,&#8221; says I, as he shows up at our
+box, &#8220;I take it back. You sure have picked
+another winner.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Looks like it, don&#8217;t it?&#8221; says he. &#8220;And
+whisper! A fifty-minute act for a hundred a
+week! That&#8217;s the best of it. Up at the Columbus
+their top liner is costing them a thousand
+a day.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a cinch if you can hold onto him, eh?&#8221;
+says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I can hold him all right,&#8221; says Chunk,
+waggin&#8217; his head confident. &#8220;I know enough
+about human nature to be sure of that. Of
+course, he&#8217;s an odd freak; but this sort of thing
+will grow on him. The oftener he gets a hand
+like that, the more he&#8217;ll want it, and inside of
+a fortnight that&#8217;ll be what he lives for. Oh,
+I know people, from the ground up, inside and
+outside!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Well, I was beginnin&#8217; to think he did. And,
+havin&#8217; been on the inside of his deal, I got to
+takin&#8217; a sort of pride in this hit, almost as
+much as if I&#8217;d discovered the Captain myself.
+I used to go up about every afternoon to see
+old Spiller do his stunt and get &#8217;em goin&#8217;.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span>
+Gen&#8217;rally I&#8217;d lug along two or three friends,
+so I could tell &#8217;em how it happened.</p>
+<p>Last Friday I was a little late for the act,
+and was just rushin&#8217; by the boxoffice, when I
+hears language floatin&#8217; out that I recognizes
+as a brand that only Chunk Tracey could deliver
+when he was good and warm under
+the collar. Peekin&#8217; in through the window,
+I sees him standin&#8217; there, fairly tearin&#8217; his
+hair.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s up, Chunk?&#8221; says I. &#8220;You seem
+peeved.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Peeved!&#8221; he yells. &#8220;Why, blankety blank
+the scousy universe, I&#8217;m stark, raving mad!
+What do you think? Spiller has quit!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Somebody overbid that hundred a week?&#8221;
+says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wish they had; then I could get out an
+injunction and hold him on his contract,&#8221; says
+Peter K. &#8220;But he&#8217;s skipped, skipped for
+good. Read that.&#8221;</p>
+<p>It&#8217;s only a scrawly note he&#8217;d left pinned up
+in his dressin&#8217; room, and, while it ain&#8217;t much
+as a specimen of flowery writin&#8217;, it states his
+case more or less clear. Here&#8217;s what it said:</p>
+<p>Mister P. K. Tracey;</p>
+<p>Sir:&mdash;I&#8217;m through being a fool actor. The money&#8217;s all right if
+I needed it, which I doant, but I doant like makin&#8217; a fool of
+myself twict a day to please a lot of citty foalks I doant give a dam
+about annie way, I doant like livin&#8217; in a blamed hotel either, for
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span>
+there aint annie wheres to set and smoak and see the sun come
+up. I&#8217;d ruther be on my old bote, and that&#8217;s whare I&#8217;m goin&#8217;.
+You needn&#8217;t try to find me and git me to come back for I wont.
+You couldn&#8217;t git me to act on that staige agin, ever. It&#8217;s
+foolish.</p>
+<p>Yours,
+<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Todd Spiller</span>.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now what in the name of all that&#8217;s woolly,&#8221;
+says Chunk, &#8220;would you say to a thing like
+that?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Me?&#8221; says I. &#8220;I don&#8217;t know. Maybe I&#8217;d
+start in by admittin&#8217; that to card index the
+minds of the whole human race was a good deal
+of a job for one party to tackle, even with a
+mighty intellect like yours. Also, if it was put
+up to me flat, I might agree with Spiller.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='IX_HANDING_BOBBY_A_BLANK' id='IX_HANDING_BOBBY_A_BLANK'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+<h3>HANDING BOBBY A BLANK</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Say, what do you make out of this plute
+huntin&#8217; business, anyway? Has the big money
+bunch got us down on the mat with our wind
+shut off and our pockets inside out; or is it
+just campaign piffle? Are we ghost dancin&#8217;,
+or waltz dreamin&#8217;, or what? It sure has me
+twisted up for fair, and I don&#8217;t know whether
+I stand with the criminal rich or the predatory
+poor.</p>
+<p>That&#8217;s all on account of a little mix-up I was
+rung into at the hotel Perzazzer the other day.
+No, we ain&#8217;t livin&#8217; there reg&#8217;lar again. This
+was just a little fall vacation we was takin&#8217; in
+town, so Sadie can catch up with her shoppin&#8217;,
+and of course the Perzazzer seems more or
+less like home to us.</p>
+<p>But it ain&#8217;t often I&#8217;ve ever run against anything
+like this there. I&#8217;ve been thinkin&#8217; it over
+since, and it&#8217;s left me with my feet in the air.
+No, you didn&#8217;t read anything about it in the
+papers. But say, there&#8217;s more goes on in one
+of them big joints every week than would fill
+a whole issue.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span></p>
+<p>Look at the population the Perzazzer&#8217;s got,&mdash;over
+two thousand, countin&#8217; the help! Why,
+drop us down somewhere out in Iowa, and
+spread us around in separate houses, and
+there&#8217;d be enough to call for a third-class postmaster,
+a police force, and a board of trade.
+Bunched the way we are, all up and down seventeen
+stories, with every cubic foot accounted
+for, we don&#8217;t cut much of a figure except on the
+checkbooks. You hear about the Perzazzer
+only when some swell gives a fancy blow-out,
+or a guest gets frisky in the public dining
+room.</p>
+<p>And anything in the shape of noise soon has
+the muffler put on it. We&#8217;ve got a whole squad
+of husky, two-handed, soft spoken gents who
+don&#8217;t have anything else to do, and our champeen
+ruction extinguisher is Danny Reardon.
+To see him strollin&#8217; through the café, you might
+think he was a corporation lawyer studyin&#8217; how
+to spend his next fee; but let some ambitious
+wine opener put on the loud pedal, or have
+Danny get his eye on some Bridgeport dressmaker
+drawin&#8217; designs of the latest Paris
+fashions in the tea room, and you&#8217;ll see him
+wake up. Nothing seems to get by him.</p>
+<p>So I was some surprised to find him havin&#8217;
+an argument with a couple of parties away
+up on our floor. Anyone could see with one
+eye that they was a pair of butt-ins. The tall,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span>
+smooth faced gent in the black frock coat and
+the white tie had sky pilot wrote all over him;
+and the Perzazzer ain&#8217;t just the place an out
+of town minister would pick out to stop at,
+unless he wanted to blow a year&#8217;s salary into
+a week&#8217;s board.</p>
+<p>Anyway, his runnin&#8217; mate was a dead give
+away. He looked like he might have just left
+a bench in the Oriental lodgin&#8217; house down at
+Chatham Square. He&#8217;s a thin, gawky, pale
+haired youth, with tired eyes and a limp lower
+jaw that leaves his mouth half open all the
+time; and his costume looks like it had been
+made up from back door contributions,&mdash;a
+faded coat three sizes too small, a forty fat
+vest, and a pair of shiny black whipcord pants
+that someone had been married in about twenty
+years back.</p>
+<p>What gets me is why such a specimen should
+be trailin&#8217; around with a clean, decent lookin&#8217;
+chap like this minister. Maybe that&#8217;s why I
+come to take any notice of their little debate.
+There&#8217;s some men, though, that you always
+give a second look at, and this minister gent
+was one of that kind. It wa&#8217;n&#8217;t until I see
+how he tops Danny by a head that I notices
+how well built he is; and I figures that if he
+was only in condition, and knew how to handle
+himself, he could put up a good lively scrap.
+Something about his jaw hints that to me; but
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span>
+of course, him bein&#8217; a Bible pounder, I don&#8217;t
+expect anything of the kind.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I understand all that,&#8221; Danny was
+tellin&#8217; him; &#8220;but you&#8217;d better come down to
+the office, just the same.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My dear man,&#8221; says the minister, &#8220;I have
+been to the office, as I told you before, and I
+could get no satisfaction there. The person I
+wish to see is on the ninth floor. They say he
+is out. I doubt it, and, as I have come six
+hundred miles just to have a word with him, I
+insist on a chance to&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure!&#8221; says Danny. &#8220;You&#8217;ll get your
+chance, only it&#8217;s against the rules to allow
+strangers above the ground floor. Now, you
+come along with me and you&#8217;ll be all right.&#8221;
+With that Danny gets a grip on the gent&#8217;s arm
+and starts to walk him to the elevator. But he
+don&#8217;t go far. The next thing Danny knows he&#8217;s
+been sent spinnin&#8217; against the other wall.
+Course, he wa&#8217;n&#8217;t lookin&#8217; for any such move;
+but it was done slick and prompt.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sorry,&#8221; says the minister, shovin&#8217; his cuffs
+back in place; &#8220;but I must ask you to keep
+your hands off.&#8221;</p>
+<p>I see what Danny was up to then. He looks
+as cool as a soda fountain; but he&#8217;s red behind
+his ears, and he&#8217;s fishin&#8217; the chain nippers out
+of his side pocket. I knows that in about a
+minute the gent in the frock coat will have
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span>
+both hands out of business. Even at that, it
+looks like an even bet, with somebody gettin&#8217;
+hurt more or less. And blamed if I didn&#8217;t
+hate to see that spunky minister get mussed up,
+just for objectin&#8217; to takin&#8217; the quiet run out.
+So I pushes to the front.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, well!&#8221; says I, shovin&#8217; out a hand
+to the parson, as though he was someone I&#8217;d
+been lookin&#8217; for. &#8220;So you showed up, eh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why,&#8221; says he,&mdash;&#8220;why&mdash;er&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I know,&#8221; says I, headin&#8217; him off.
+&#8220;You can tell me about that later. Bring your
+friend right in; this is my door. It&#8217;s all right,
+Danny; mistakes will happen.&#8221;</p>
+<p>And before any of &#8217;em knows what&#8217;s up,
+Danny is left outside with his mouth open, while
+I&#8217;ve towed the pair of strays into our sittin&#8217;
+room, and shooed Sadie out of the way. The
+minister looks kind of dazed; but he keeps his
+head well.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Really,&#8221; says he, gazin&#8217; around, &#8220;I am
+sure there must be some misunderstanding.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You bet,&#8221; says I, &#8220;and it was gettin&#8217;
+worse every minute. About two shakes more,
+and you&#8217;d been the center of a local disturbance
+that would have landed you before the police
+sergeant.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you mean,&#8221; says he, &#8220;that I cannot
+communicate with a guest in this hotel without
+being liable to arrest?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s the size of it,&#8221; says I. &#8220;Danny
+had the bracelets all out. The conundrum is,
+though, Why I should do the goat act, instead
+of lettin&#8217; you two mix it up? But that&#8217;s what
+happened, and now I guess it&#8217;s up to you to
+give an account.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;H&#8217;m!&#8221; says he. &#8220;It isn&#8217;t quite clear;
+but I infer that you have, in a way, made yourself
+responsible for me. May I ask whom I
+have to thank for&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m Shorty McCabe,&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; says he. &#8220;It seems to me I&#8217;ve
+heard&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing like bein&#8217; well advertised,&#8221; says
+I. &#8220;Now, how about you&mdash;and this?&#8221; With
+that I points to the specimen in the cast offs,
+that was givin&#8217; an imitation of a flytrap. It was
+a little crisp, I admit; but I&#8217;m gettin&#8217; anxious
+to know where I stand.</p>
+<p>The minister lifts his eyebrows some, but
+proceeds to hand out the information. &#8220;My
+name is Hooker,&#8221; says he,&mdash;&#8220;Samuel Hooker.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Preacher?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ye-es, a poor one,&#8221; says he. &#8220;Where?
+Well, in the neighborhood of Mossy Dell, Pennsylvania.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Out in the celluloid collar belt, eh?&#8221; says
+I. &#8220;This ain&#8217;t a deacon, is it?&#8221; and I jerks
+my thumb at the fish eyed one.</p>
+<p>&#8220;This unfortunate fellow,&#8221; says he, droppin&#8217;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span>
+a hand on the object&#8217;s shoulder, &#8220;is one of our
+industrial products. His name is Kronacher,
+commonly called Dummy.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I can guess why,&#8221; says I. &#8220;But now let&#8217;s
+get down to how you two happen to be loose
+on the seventh floor of the Perzazzer and so
+far from Mossy Dell.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The Reverend Sam says there ain&#8217;t any great
+mystery about that. He come on here special
+to have a talk with a party by the name of
+Rankin, that he understood was stoppin&#8217; here.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t mean Bobby Brut, do you?&#8221;
+says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Robert K. Rankin is the young man&#8217;s name,
+I believe,&#8221; says he,&mdash;&#8220;son of the late Loring
+Rankin, president of the Consolidated&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s Bobby Brut,&#8221; says I. &#8220;Don&#8217;t
+catch onto the Brut, eh? You would if you
+read the champagne labels. Friend of yours,
+is he?&#8221;</p>
+<p>But right there the Rev. Mr. Hooker turns
+balky. He hints that his business with Bobby
+is private and personal, and he ain&#8217;t anxious
+to lay it before a third party. He&#8217;d told &#8217;em
+the same at the desk, when someone from
+Bobbie&#8217;s rooms had &#8217;phoned for details about
+the card, and then he&#8217;d got the turn down.
+But he wa&#8217;n&#8217;t the kind that stayed down. He&#8217;s
+goin&#8217; to see Mr. Rankin or bu&#8217;st. Not wantin&#8217;
+to ask for the elevator, he blazes ahead up the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span>
+stairs; and Danny, it seems, hadn&#8217;t got on his
+track until he was well started.</p>
+<p>&#8220;All I ask,&#8221; says he, &#8220;is five minutes of
+Mr. Rankin&#8217;s time. That is not an unreasonable
+request, I hope?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Excuse me,&#8221; says I; &#8220;but you&#8217;re missin&#8217;
+the point by a mile. It ain&#8217;t how long you
+want to stay, but what you&#8217;re here for. You
+got to remember that things is run different
+on Fifth-ave. from what they are on Penrose-st.,
+Mossy Dell. You might be a book agent,
+or a bomb thrower, for all the folks at the desk
+know. So the only way to get next to anyone
+here is to show your hand and take the decision.
+Now if you want to try runnin&#8217; the
+outside guard again, I&#8217;ll call Danny back. But
+you&#8217;ll make a mess of it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He thinks that over for a minute, lookin&#8217;
+me square in the eye all the time, and all of a
+sudden he puts out his hand. &#8220;You&#8217;re right,&#8221;
+says he. &#8220;I was hot headed, and let my zeal
+get the better of my commonsense. Thank
+you, Mr. McCabe.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s all right,&#8221; says I. &#8220;You go down
+to the office and put your case to &#8217;em straight.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; says he, shruggin&#8217; his shoulders,
+&#8220;that wouldn&#8217;t do at all. I suppose I&#8217;ve come
+on a fool&#8217;s errand. Kronacher, we&#8217;ll go back.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s too bad,&#8221; says I, &#8220;if you had business
+with Bobby that was on the level.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Since you&#8217;ve been so kind,&#8221; says he, &#8220;perhaps
+you would give me your opinion&mdash;if I am
+not detaining you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Spiel away!&#8221; says I. &#8220;I&#8217;ll own up you&#8217;ve
+got me some interested.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Well, say, when he&#8217;d described his visit as a
+dippy excursion, he wa&#8217;n&#8217;t far off. Seems that
+this Rev. Sam Hooker ain&#8217;t a reg&#8217;lar preacher,
+with a stained glass window church, a steam
+heated parsonage, and a settled job. He&#8217;s sort
+of a Gospel promoter, that goes around plantin&#8217;
+churches here and there,&mdash;home missionary, he
+calls it, though I always thought a home missionary
+was one that was home from China on
+a half-pay visit.</p>
+<p>Mainly he says he drifts around through the
+coke oven and glass works district, where all
+the Polackers and other dagoes work. He don&#8217;t
+let it go with preachin&#8217; to &#8217;em, though. He
+pokes around among their shacks, seein&#8217; how
+they live, sendin&#8217; doctors for sick babies, givin&#8217;
+the women folks hints on the use of fresh air
+and hard soap, an&#8217; advisin&#8217; &#8217;em to keep their
+kids in school. He&#8217;s one of them strenuous
+chaps, too, that believes in stirrin&#8217; up a fuss
+whenever he runs across anything he thinks
+is wrong. One of the fights he&#8217;s been making
+is something about the boys in the glass
+works.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps you have heard of our efforts to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span>
+have a child labor bill passed in our State?&#8221;
+says he.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; says I; &#8220;but I&#8217;m against it. There&#8217;s
+enough kids has to answer the mill whistle,
+without passin&#8217; laws to make &#8217;em.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Then he explains how the bill is to keep &#8217;em
+from goin&#8217; at it too young, or workin&#8217; too many
+hours on a stretch. Course, I&#8217;m with him on
+that, and says so.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah!&#8221; says he. &#8220;Then you may be interested
+to learn that young Mr. Rankin is the
+most extensive employer of child labor in our
+State. That is what I want to talk to him
+about.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ever see Bobby?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>He says he hasn&#8217;t.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Know anything of his habits, and so on?&#8221;
+I asks.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not a thing,&#8221; says the Rev. Sam.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then you take it from me,&#8221; says I, &#8220;that
+you ain&#8217;t missed much.&#8221;</p>
+<p>See? I couldn&#8217;t go all over that record of
+Bobby Brut&#8217;s, specially to a preacher. Not
+that Bobby was the worst that ever cruised
+around the Milky Way in a sea goin&#8217; cab with
+his feet over the dasher; but he was something
+of a torrid proposition while he lasted. You
+remember some of his stunts, maybe? I hadn&#8217;t
+kept strict tabs on him; but I&#8217;d heard that after
+they chucked him out of the sanatorium his
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span>
+mother planted him here, with a man nurse
+and a private doctor, and slid off to Europe to
+stay with her son-in-law Count until folks forgot
+about Bobby.</p>
+<p>And this was the youth the Rev. Mr. Hooker
+had come to have a heart to heart talk with!</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ain&#8217;t you takin&#8217; a lot of trouble, just for
+a few Polackers?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They are my brothers,&#8221; says he, quiet like.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What!&#8221; says I. &#8220;You don&#8217;t look it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>His mouth corners flickers a little at that,
+and there comes a glimmer in them solemn gray
+eyes of his; but he goes on to say that it&#8217;s
+part of his belief that every man is his brother.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gee!&#8221; says I. &#8220;You&#8217;ve adopted a big
+fam&#8217;ly.&#8221;</p>
+<p>But say, he&#8217;s so dead in earnest about it, and
+he talks so sensible about other things, besides
+appearin&#8217; so white clear through, that I can&#8217;t
+help likin&#8217; the cuss.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Look here!&#8221; says I. &#8220;This is way out of
+my line, and it strikes me as a batty proposition
+anyway; but if you&#8217;re still anxious to have a
+chin with Bobby, maybe I can fix it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thank you, thank you!&#8221; says he, givin&#8217;
+me the grateful grip.</p>
+<p>It&#8217;s a good deal easier than I&#8217;d thought.
+All I does is get one of Bobby&#8217;s retinue on the
+house &#8217;phone, tell who I am, and say I was
+thinkin&#8217; of droppin&#8217; up with a couple of friends
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span>
+for a short call, if Bobby&#8217;s agreeable. Seems
+he was, for inside of two minutes we&#8217;re on our
+way up in the elevator.</p>
+<p>Got any idea of the simple way a half baked
+young plute can live in a place like the Perzazzer?
+He has one floor of a whole wing cut off
+for his special use,&mdash;about twenty rooms, I
+should judge,&mdash;and there was hired hands
+standin&#8217; around in every corner. We&#8217;re piloted
+in over the Persian rugs, with the preacher
+blinkin&#8217; his eyes to keep from seein&#8217; some of
+the statuary and oil paintin&#8217;s.</p>
+<p>At last we comes to a big room with an
+eastern exposure, furnished like a show window.
+Sittin&#8217; at a big mahogany table in the
+middle is a narrow browed, pop eyed, bat eared
+young chap in a padded silk dressin&#8217; gown, and
+I remembers him for the Bobby Brut I used
+to see floatin&#8217; around with the Trixy-Madges
+at the lobster palaces. He has a couple of decks
+of cards laid out in front of him, and I guesses
+he&#8217;s havin&#8217; a go at Canfield solitaire. Behind
+his chair stands a sour faced lackey who holds
+up his hand for us to wait.</p>
+<p>Bobby don&#8217;t look up at all. He&#8217;s shiftin&#8217;
+the cards around, tryin&#8217; to make &#8217;em come out
+right, doin&#8217; it quick and nervous. All of a
+sudden the lackey claps his hand down on a pile
+and says, &#8220;Beg pardon, sir, but you can&#8217;t do
+that.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Blast you!&#8221; snarls Bobby. &#8220;And I was
+just getting it! Why didn&#8217;t you look the other
+way? Bah!&#8221; and he sends the whole lot flyin&#8217;
+on the floor. Do you catch on? He has the
+lackey there to see that he don&#8217;t cheat himself.</p>
+<p>But while the help was pickin&#8217; up the cards
+Bobby gets a glimpse of our trio, ranged up
+against the door draperies.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello, Shorty McCabe!&#8221; he sings out.
+&#8220;It&#8217;s bully of you to drop in. Nobody comes
+to see me any more&mdash;hardly a soul. Say, do
+you think there&#8217;s anything the matter with
+my head?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Can&#8217;t say your nut shows any cracks from
+here,&#8221; says I. &#8220;Who&#8217;s been tellin&#8217; you it
+did?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, all those blasted doctors,&#8221; says he.
+&#8220;They won&#8217;t even let me go out alone. But
+say,&#8221; here he beckons me up and whispers mysterious,
+&#8220;I&#8217;ll fix &#8217;em yet! You just wait till
+I get my animals trained. You wait!&#8221; Then
+he claps his hands and hollers, &#8220;Atkins! Set
+&#8217;em going!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Atkins, he stops scrabblin&#8217; after the cards
+and starts around the room. And say, would
+you believe it, on all the tables and mantelpieces
+was a lot of those toy animals, such as they sell
+durin&#8217; the holidays. There was lions and tigers
+and elephants, little and big, and every last
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span>
+one of &#8217;em has its head balanced so it&#8217;ll move
+up and down when you touch it. Atkins&#8217; job
+was to go from one to the other and set &#8217;em
+bobbin&#8217;. Them on the mantels wa&#8217;n&#8217;t more&#8217;n
+a few inches long; but on the floor, hid behind
+chairs, was some that was life size. One was
+a tiger, made out of a real skin, and when his
+head goes his jaws open and shut, and his tail
+lashes from side to side, as natural as life.
+Say, it was weird to watch that collection, all
+noddin&#8217; away together&mdash;almost gave you the
+willies!</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are they all going?&#8221; says Bobby.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, sir,&#8221; says Atkins, standin&#8217; attention.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you think, eh?&#8221; says Bobbie,
+half shuttin&#8217; his pop eyes and starin&#8217; at me,
+real foxy.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Great scheme!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Didn&#8217;t know
+you had a private zoo up here. But say, I
+brought along someone that wants to have a
+little chin with you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>With that I hauls the Rev. Sam to the
+front and gives him the nudge to fire away.
+And say, he&#8217;s all primed! He begins by givin&#8217;
+Bobbie a word picture of the Rankin glass
+works at night, when the helpers are carryin&#8217;
+the trays from the hot room, where the blowers
+work three-hour shifts, with the mercury at
+one hundred and twenty, to the coolin&#8217; room,
+where it&#8217;s like a cellar. He tells him how
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span>
+many helpers there are, how many hours they
+work a day, and what they get for it. It didn&#8217;t
+make me yearn for a job.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And here,&#8221; says the Rev. Mr. Hooker,
+pullin&#8217; the Dummy up by the sleeve, &#8220;is what
+happens. This boy went to work in your glass
+factory when he was thirteen. He was red
+cheeked, clear eyed, then, and he had a normal
+brain. He held his job six years. Then he
+was discharged. Why? Because he wasn&#8217;t of
+any more use. He was all in, the juice sapped
+out of him, as dry as a last year&#8217;s cornhusk.
+Look at him! Any doubt about his being used
+up? And what happened to him is happening
+to thousands of other boys. So I have come
+here to ask you, Mr. Rankin, if you are proud
+of turning out such products? Aren&#8217;t you
+ready to stop hiring thirteen-year-old boys for
+your works?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Say, it was straight from the shoulder, that
+talk,&mdash;no flourishes, no fine words! And what
+do you guess Bobby Brut has to say? Not a
+blamed thing! I doubt if he heard more&#8217;n
+half of it, anyway; for he&#8217;s got his eyes set
+on that pasty face of Dummy Kronacher, and
+is followin&#8217; his motions.</p>
+<p>The Dummy ain&#8217;t payin&#8217; any attention to the
+speech, either. He&#8217;s got sight of all them animals
+with their heads bobbin&#8217;, and a silly grin
+spreads over his face. First he sidles over to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span>
+the mantel and touches up one that was about
+stopped. Then he sees another, and starts that
+off again, and by the time Hooker is through
+the Dummy is as busy and contented as you
+please, keepin&#8217; them tigers and things movin&#8217;.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well?&#8221; says the Rev. Sam.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eh?&#8221; says Bobby, tearin&#8217; his eyes off the
+Dummy. &#8220;Were you saying something about
+the glass works? Beastly bore! I never go
+near them. But say! I want that chap over
+there. I want to hire him. What&#8217;s his name?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dummy Kronacher,&#8221; says the Rev. Sam,
+comin&#8217; out strong on the first word.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good!&#8221; says Bobbie. &#8220;Hey, Dummy?
+What will you take to stay here with me and
+do that right along?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dummy has just discovered a stuffed alligator
+that can snap its jaws and wiggle its tail.
+He only looks up and grins.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll make it a hundred a month,&#8221; says
+Bobbie. &#8220;Well, that&#8217;s settled. Atkins, you&#8217;re
+fired! And say, McCabe, I must show this new
+man how I want this business done. You and
+your friend run in some other time, will you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But,&#8221; says Hooker, &#8220;can&#8217;t you do something
+about those helpers? Won&#8217;t you promise
+to&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No!&#8221; snaps Bobby. &#8220;I&#8217;ve no time to
+bother with such things. Atkins, show &#8217;em
+out!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span></p>
+<p>Well, we went. We goes so sudden the Rev.
+Sam forgets about leavin&#8217; the Dummy until
+we&#8217;re outside, and then he&#8217;s for goin&#8217; back
+after him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What for?&#8221; says I. &#8220;That pair&#8217;ll get
+along fine; they&#8217;re two of a kind.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I guess you&#8217;re right,&#8221; says he. &#8220;And
+it&#8217;s something to have brought those two together.
+Perhaps someone will see the significance
+of it, some day.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Now what was he drivin&#8217; at then? You can
+search me. All I&#8217;ve been able to make out of
+it is that what ails the poor is poverty, and the
+trouble with the plutes is that they&#8217;ve got too
+much. Eh? Barney Shaw said something like
+that too? Well, don&#8217;t let on I agree with him.
+He might get chesty.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='X_MARMADUKE_SLIPS_ONE_OVER' id='X_MARMADUKE_SLIPS_ONE_OVER'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER X</h2>
+<h3>MARMADUKE SLIPS ONE OVER</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>And you&#8217;d almost think I could accumulate
+enough freaks, all by myself, without havin&#8217; my
+friends pass theirs along, wouldn&#8217;t you? Yet
+lemme tell you what Pinckney rung up on me.</p>
+<p>He comes into the Studio one day towin&#8217; a
+party who wears brown spats and a brown ribbon
+to his shell rimmed eyeglasses, and leaves
+him planted in a chair over by the window,
+where he goes to rubbin&#8217; his chin with a silver-handled
+stick while we dive into the gym. for
+one of our little half-hour sessions. Leaves
+him there without sayin&#8217; a word, mind you, like
+you&#8217;d stand an umbrella in the corner!</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who&#8217;s the silent gazooks you run on the
+siding out front?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why,&#8221; says Pinckney, &#8220;that&#8217;s only Marmaduke.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Only!&#8221; says I. &#8220;I should say Marmaduke
+was quite some of a name. Anything behind
+it? He ain&#8217;t a blank, is he?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who, Marmaduke?&#8221; says he. &#8220;Far from
+it! In fact, he has a most individual personality.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;That sounds good,&#8221; says I; &#8220;but does it
+mean anything? Who is he, anyway?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ask him, Shorty, ask him,&#8221; says Pinckney,
+and as he turns to put his coat on the hanger
+I gets a glimpse of that merry eye-twinkle of
+his.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Go on&mdash;I&#8217;m easy,&#8221; says I. &#8220;I&#8217;d look nice,
+wouldn&#8217;t I, holdin&#8217; a perfect stranger up for his
+pedigree?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But I assure you he&#8217;d be pleased to give it,&#8221;
+says Pinckney, &#8220;and, more than that, I want
+to be there to hear it myself.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, you&#8217;re apt to strain your ears some
+listenin&#8217;,&#8221; says I. &#8220;This ain&#8217;t my day for
+askin&#8217; fool questions.&#8221;</p>
+<p>You never can tell, though. We hadn&#8217;t much
+more&#8217;n got through our mitt exercise, and
+Pinckney was only half into his afternoon tea
+uniform, when there&#8217;s a &#8217;phone call for him.
+And the next thing I know he&#8217;s hustled into his
+frock coat and rushed out.</p>
+<p>Must have been five minutes later when I
+fin&#8217;lly strolls into the front office, to find that
+mysterious Marmaduke is still holdin&#8217; down the
+chair and gazin&#8217; placid out onto 42d-st. It
+looks like he&#8217;d been forgotten and hadn&#8217;t noticed
+the fact.</p>
+<p>One of these long, loose jointed, languid actin&#8217;
+gents, Marmaduke is; the kind that can drape
+themselves careless and comf&#8217;table over almost
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span>
+any kind of furniture. He&#8217;s a little pop eyed,
+his hair is sort of a faded tan color, and he&#8217;s
+whopper jawed on the left side; but beyond that
+he didn&#8217;t have any striking points of facial
+beauty. It&#8217;s what you might call an interestin&#8217;
+mug, though, and it&#8217;s so full of repose that it
+seems almost a shame to disturb him.</p>
+<p>Someone had to notify him, though, that he&#8217;d
+overslept. I tried clearin&#8217; my throat and shufflin&#8217;
+my feet to bring him to; but that gets no
+action at all. So there was nothing for it but
+to go over and tap him on the shoulder.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Excuse me,&#8221; says I, &#8220;but your friend
+has gone.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, quite so,&#8221; says he, still starin&#8217; out of
+the window and rubbin&#8217; his chin. &#8220;&#8217;Tis a way
+friends have. They come, and they go. Quite
+so.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nobody&#8217;s debatin&#8217; that point,&#8221; says I;
+&#8220;but just now I wa&#8217;n&#8217;t speakin&#8217; of friends in
+gen&#8217;ral. I was referrin&#8217; to Pinckney. He
+didn&#8217;t leave any word; but I suspicion he was
+called up by&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thanks,&#8221; breaks in Marmaduke. &#8220;I know.
+Mrs. Purdy-Pell consults him about dinner favors&mdash;tremendous
+trifles, to be coped with only
+by a trained intelligence. We meet at the club
+later.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, that&#8217;s it, is it?&#8221; says I. &#8220;In that case,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span>
+make yourself to home. Have an evening paper?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Please take it away,&#8221; says he. &#8220;I might
+be tempted to read about the beastly stock
+market.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Been taking a little flyer, eh?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What, I?&#8221; says he. &#8220;Why, I haven&#8217;t
+enough cash to buy a decent dinner. But everybody
+you meet follows the market, you know.
+It&#8217;s a contagious disease.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;So?&#8221; says I. &#8220;Now I&#8217;ve been exposed a
+lot and haven&#8217;t caught it very hard.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gifted of the gods!&#8221; says he.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eh?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m Marmaduke, you know,&#8221; says he.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve heard that much,&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;To him that hath ears&mdash;mufflers,&#8221; says he.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mufflers?&#8221; says I. &#8220;I guess I must be
+missin&#8217; some of my cues, Mister.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Never care,&#8221; says he. &#8220;Why cry over
+spilt milk when one can keep a cat?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Look here!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Are you stringin&#8217;
+me, or am I stringin&#8217; you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of what use to fret the oracle?&#8221; says he.
+&#8220;They say silence is golden&mdash;well, I&#8217;ve spent
+mine.&#8221;</p>
+<p>And, say, he had me doin&#8217; the spiral dip at
+that. I don&#8217;t mind indulgin&#8217; in a little foolish
+conversation now and then; but I hate to have
+it so one sided. And, honest, so far as I figured,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span>
+he might have been readin&#8217; the label off a tea
+chest. So with that I counters with one of my
+rough and ready comebacks.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Marmaduke&mdash;did you say it was?&#8221; says I.
+&#8220;If you did, where&#8217;s the can?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;By Jove! That&#8217;s rather good, though!&#8221;
+says he, rappin&#8217; the floor with his stick. &#8220;A
+little crude; but the element is there. Brava!
+Bravissimo!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Stirred up the pigeons, anyway,&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Pigeons?&#8221; says he, lookin&#8217; puzzled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, well!&#8221; says I. &#8220;And he wants a
+diagram for that mossy one! Loft, you know,&#8221;
+and I taps my forehead.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Almost worthy of my steel!&#8221; says he,
+jumpin&#8217; up and shovin&#8217; out his hand. &#8220;Well
+met, Brother!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know which of us has a call to get
+chesty over it; but here&#8217;s how,&#8221; says I, takin&#8217;
+the friendly palm he holds out. &#8220;Seein&#8217; it&#8217;s
+gone this far, though, maybe you&#8217;ll tell me who
+in blazes you are!&#8221;</p>
+<p>And there I&#8217;d gone and done just what Pinckney
+had egged me to do. Course, the minute I
+asked the question I knew I&#8217;d given him a chance
+to slip one over on me; but I wa&#8217;n&#8217;t lookin&#8217; for
+quite such a double jointed jolt.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who am I?&#8221; says he. &#8220;Does it matter?
+Well, if it does, I am easily accounted for. Behold
+an anachronism!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;A which?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;An anachronism,&#8221; says he once more.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I pass,&#8221; says I. &#8220;Is it part of Austria, or
+just a nickname for some alfalfa district out
+West?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Brave ventures,&#8221; says he; &#8220;but vain.
+One&#8217;s place of birth doesn&#8217;t count if one&#8217;s
+twentieth century mind has a sixteenth century
+attitude. That&#8217;s my trouble; or else I&#8217;m plain
+lazy, which I don&#8217;t in the least admit. Do you
+follow me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m dizzy from it,&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The confession is aptly put,&#8221; he goes on,
+&#8220;and the frankness of it does you credit. But
+I perceive. You would class me by peg and
+hole. Well, I&#8217;m no peg for any hole. I don&#8217;t
+fit. On the floor of life&#8217;s great workshop I just
+kick around. There you have me&mdash;ah&mdash;what?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe,&#8221; says I; &#8220;but take my advice and
+don&#8217;t ever spring that description on any desk
+Sergeant. It may be good; but it sounds like
+loose bearin&#8217;s.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah!&#8221; says he. &#8220;The metaphor of to-morrow!
+Speak on, Sir Galahad!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right,&#8221; says I. &#8220;I know it&#8217;s runnin&#8217;
+a risk; but I&#8217;ll chance one more: What part of
+the map do you hail from, Marmaduke?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My proper home,&#8221; says he, &#8220;is the Forest
+of Arden; but where that is I know not.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why,&#8221; says I, &#8220;then you belong in the new
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span>
+Harriman State Park. Anyway, there&#8217;s a station
+by that name out on the Erie road.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Rails never ran to Arden Wood,&#8221; says he,
+&#8220;nor ever will. Selah!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sounds like an old song,&#8221; says I. &#8220;Are
+you taken this way often?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m Marmaduke, you know,&#8221; says he.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure, that&#8217;s where we begun,&#8221; says I; &#8220;but
+it&#8217;s as far as we got. Is bein&#8217; Marmaduke your
+steady job?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Some would call it so,&#8221; says he. &#8220;I try to
+make of it an art.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You win,&#8221; says I. &#8220;What can I set
+up?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thanks,&#8221; says he. &#8220;Pinckney has thoughtlessly
+taken his cigarette case with him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>So I sends Swifty out for a box of the most
+expensive dope sticks he can find. Maybe it
+wouldn&#8217;t strike everybody that way; but to me
+it seemed like bein&#8217; entertained at cut rates.
+Next to havin&#8217; a happy dream about nothing I
+could remember afterwards, I guess this repartee
+bout with Marmaduke gets the ribbon. It
+was like blowin&#8217; soap bubbles to music,&mdash;sort
+of soothin&#8217; and cheerin&#8217; and no wear and
+tear on the brain. He stayed until closin&#8217;
+up time, and I was almost sorry to have
+him go.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come around again,&#8221; says I, &#8220;when the
+fog is thinner.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m certain to,&#8221; says he. &#8220;I&#8217;m Marmaduke,
+you know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>And the curious thing about that remark was
+that after you&#8217;d heard it four or five times it
+filled the bill. I didn&#8217;t want to know any more,
+and it was only because Pinckney insisted on
+givin&#8217; me the details that the mystery was partly
+cleared up.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; says he, &#8220;what did you think of
+Marmaduke?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Neither of us did any thinkin&#8217;,&#8221; says I. &#8220;I
+just watched the butterflies.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You what?&#8221; says Pinckney.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, call &#8217;em bats, then!&#8221; says I. &#8220;He&#8217;s
+got a dome full.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You mean you thought Marmaduke a bit
+off?&#8221; says he. &#8220;Nothing of the kind, Shorty.
+Why, he&#8217;s a brilliant chap,&mdash;Oxford, Heidelberg,
+and all that sort of thing. He&#8217;s written
+plays that no one will put on, books that no one
+will publish, and composed music that few can
+understand.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I can believe it,&#8221; says I. &#8220;Also he can use
+language that he invents as he goes along. Entertainin&#8217;
+cuss, though.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A philosopher soufflé,&#8221; says Pinckney.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Does it pay him well?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s no joke,&#8221; says Pinckney. &#8220;The little
+his father left him is gone, and what&#8217;s coming
+from his Uncle Norton he doesn&#8217;t get until the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span>
+uncle dies. Meanwhile he&#8217;s flat broke and too
+proud to beg or borrow.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Never tried trailin&#8217; a pay envelope, did
+he?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But he doesn&#8217;t know how,&#8221; says Pinckney.
+&#8220;His talents don&#8217;t seem to be marketable. I
+am trying to think of something he could do.
+And did you know, Shorty, he&#8217;s taken quite a
+fancy to you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They all do,&#8221; says I; &#8220;but Marmaduke&#8217;s
+easier to stand than most of &#8217;em. Next time I&#8217;m
+threatened with the willies I&#8217;ll send for him and
+offer to hire him by the hour.&#8221;</p>
+<p>As a matter of fact, I didn&#8217;t have to; for he
+got into the habit of blowin&#8217; into the studio
+every day or two, and swappin&#8217; a few of his
+airy fancies for my mental short-arm jabs. He
+said it did him good, and somehow or other it
+always chirked me up too.</p>
+<p>And the more I saw of Marmaduke, the less
+I thought about the bats. Get under the surface,
+and he wa&#8217;n&#8217;t nutty at all. He just had
+a free flow of funny thoughts and odd ways of
+expressin&#8217; &#8217;em. Most of us are so shy of lettin&#8217;
+go of any sentiments that can&#8217;t be had on
+a rubber stamp that it takes a mighty small
+twist to put a person in the queer class.</p>
+<p>However, business is business, and I&#8217;d just
+as soon Marmaduke hadn&#8217;t been on hand the
+other day when Pyramid Gordon comes in with
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span>
+one of his heavyweight broker friends. Course,
+I didn&#8217;t know anything about the stranger; but
+I know Pyramid, and his funnybone was fossilized
+years ago. Marmaduke don&#8217;t offer to
+make any break, though. He takes his fav&#8217;rite
+seat over by the window and goes to gazin&#8217; out
+and rubbin&#8217; his chin.</p>
+<p>Seems that Mr. Gordon and his friend was
+both tangled up in some bank chain snarl that
+was worryin&#8217; &#8217;em a lot. Things wouldn&#8217;t be
+comin&#8217; to a head for forty-eight hours or so,
+and meantime all they could do was sit tight
+and wait.</p>
+<p>Now, Pyramid&#8217;s programme in a case of that
+kind is one I made out for him myself. It&#8217;s
+simple. He comes to the studio for an hour of
+the roughest kind of work we can put through.
+After that he goes to his Turkish bath, and by
+the time his rubber is through with him he&#8217;s
+ready for a private room and a ten hours&#8217;
+snooze. That&#8217;s what keeps the gray out of his
+cheeks, and helps him look a Grand Jury summons
+in the face without goin&#8217; shaky.</p>
+<p>So it&#8217;s natural he recommends the same
+course to this Mr. Gridley that he&#8217;s brought
+along. Another thick-neck, Gridley is, with the
+same flat ears as Pyramid, only he&#8217;s a little
+shorter and not quite so rugged around the
+chin.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Here we are, now,&#8221; says Pyramid, &#8220;and
+here&#8217;s Professor McCabe, Gridley. If he can&#8217;t
+make you forget your troubles, you will be the
+first on record. Come on in and see.&#8221;</p>
+<p>But Gridley he shakes his head. &#8220;Nothing
+so strenuous for me,&#8221; says he. &#8220;My heart
+wouldn&#8217;t stand it. I&#8217;ll wait for you, though.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Better come in and watch, then,&#8221; says I,
+with a side glance at Marmaduke.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, thanks; I shall be quite as uncomfortable
+here,&#8221; says Gridley, and camps his two
+hundred and ten pounds down in my desk
+chair.</p>
+<p>It was a queer pair to leave together,&mdash;this
+Gridley gent, who was jugglin&#8217; millions, and gettin&#8217;
+all kinds of misery out of it, and Marmaduke,
+calm and happy, with barely one quarter
+to rub against another. But of course there
+wa&#8217;n&#8217;t much chance of their findin&#8217; anything in
+common to talk about.</p>
+<p>Anyway, I was too busy for the next hour to
+give &#8217;em a thought, and by the time I&#8217;d got
+Pyramid breathin&#8217; like a leaky air valve and
+glowin&#8217; like a circus poster all over, I&#8217;d clean
+forgot both of &#8217;em. So, when I fin&#8217;lly strolls
+out absent minded, it&#8217;s something of a shock
+to find &#8217;em gettin&#8217; acquainted, Marmaduke
+tiltin&#8217; back careless in his chair, and Gridley
+eyin&#8217; him curious.</p>
+<p>It appears that Pyramid&#8217;s friend has got restless,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span>
+discovered Marmaduke, and proceeded to
+try to tell him how near he comes to bein&#8217; a
+nervous wreck.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ever get so you couldn&#8217;t eat, couldn&#8217;t sleep,
+couldn&#8217;t think of but one thing over and over?&#8221;
+he was just sayin&#8217;.</p>
+<p>&#8220;To every coat of arms, the raveled sleeve
+of care,&#8221; observes Marmaduke sort of casual.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hey?&#8221; says Gridley, facin&#8217; round on him
+sharp.</p>
+<p>&#8220;As the poet puts it,&#8221; Marmaduke rattles on,&mdash;</p>
+<table summary='poetry' style=' font-style:italic; margin-left:4em;'><tr><td>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>&#8220;You cannot gild the lily,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>Nor can you wet the sea;</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Pray tell me of my Bonnie,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>But bring her not to me!&#8221;</p>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p>&#8220;Say, what the howling hyenas are you
+spouting about?&#8221; snorts Gridley, growin&#8217; purple
+back of the ears. &#8220;Who in thunder are
+you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t!&#8221; says I, holdin&#8217; up a warnin&#8217; hand.
+But I&#8217;m too late. Marmaduke has bobbed up
+smilin&#8217;.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A chip on the current,&#8221; says he. &#8220;I&#8217;m
+Marmaduke, you know. No offense meant. And
+you were saying&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Huh!&#8221; grunts Gridley, calmin&#8217; down.
+&#8220;Can&#8217;t wet the sea, eh? Not so bad, young
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span>
+man. You can&#8217;t keep it still, either. It&#8217;s the
+only thing that puts me to sleep when I get this
+way.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Break, break, break&mdash;I know,&#8221; says Marmaduke.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s it,&#8221; says Gridley, &#8220;hearing the surf
+roar. I&#8217;d open up my seashore cottage just for
+the sake of a good night&#8217;s rest, if it wasn&#8217;t for
+the blasted seagulls. You&#8217;ve heard &#8217;em in winter,
+haven&#8217;t you, how they squeak around?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s their wing hinges,&#8221; says Marmaduke,
+solemn and serious.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eh?&#8221; says Gridley, gawpin&#8217; at him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Squeaky wing hinges,&#8221; says Marmaduke.
+&#8220;You should oil them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>And, say, for a minute there, after Gridley
+had got the drift of that tomfool remark, I
+didn&#8217;t know whether he was goin&#8217; to throw Marmaduke
+through the window, or have another
+fit. All of a sudden, though, he begins poundin&#8217;
+his knee.</p>
+<p>&#8220;By George! but that&#8217;s rich, young man!&#8221;
+says he. &#8220;Squeaky gulls&#8217; wing hinges! Haw-haw!
+Oil &#8217;em! Haw-haw! How did you ever
+happen to think of it, eh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;One sweetly foolish thought,&#8221; says Marmaduke.
+&#8220;I&#8217;m blessed with little else.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, it&#8217;s a blessing, all right,&#8221; says Gridley.
+&#8220;I have &#8217;em sometimes; but not so good
+as that. Say, I&#8217;ll have to tell that to Gordon
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span>
+when he comes out. No, he wouldn&#8217;t see anything
+in it. But see here, Mr. Marmaduke, what
+have you got on for the evening, eh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My tablets are cleaner than my cuffs,&#8221; says
+he.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good work!&#8221; says Gridley. &#8220;What about
+coming out and having dinner with me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;With you or any man,&#8221; says Marmaduke.
+&#8220;To dine&#8217;s the thing.&#8221;</p>
+<p>With that, off they goes, leavin&#8217; Pyramid in
+the gym. doorway strugglin&#8217; with his collar.
+Course, I does my best to explain what&#8217;s happened.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But who was the fellow?&#8221; says Mr. Gordon.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just Marmaduke,&#8221; says I, &#8220;and if you
+don&#8217;t want to get your thinker tied in a double
+bowknot you&#8217;ll let it go at that. He&#8217;s harmless.
+First off I thought his gears didn&#8217;t mesh; but
+accordin&#8217; to Pinckney he&#8217;s some kind of a
+philosopher.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gridley has a streak of that nonsense in
+him too,&#8221; says Pyramid. &#8220;I only hope he
+gets it all out of his system by to-morrow
+night.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Well, from all I could hear he did; for there
+wa&#8217;n&#8217;t any scarehead financial story in the papers,
+and I guess the bank snarl must have been
+straightened out all right. What puzzled me for
+a few days, though, was to think what had become
+of Marmaduke. He hadn&#8217;t been around
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span>
+to the studio once; and Pinckney hadn&#8217;t heard
+a word from him, either. Pinckney had it all
+framed up how Marmaduke was off starvin&#8217;
+somewhere.</p>
+<p>It was only yesterday, too, that I looks up
+from the desk to see Marmaduke, all got up in
+an entire new outfit, standin&#8217; there smilin&#8217; and
+chipper.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, well!&#8221; says I. &#8220;So you didn&#8217;t hit
+the breadline, after all!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perchance I deserved it,&#8221; says he; &#8220;but
+there came one from the forest who willed otherwise.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, cut the josh for a minute,&#8221; says I,
+&#8220;and tell us what you landed!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gladly,&#8221; says he. &#8220;I have been made the
+salaried secretary of the S. O. S. G. W. H.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is it a new benefit order,&#8221; says I, &#8220;or
+what?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The mystic letters,&#8221; says he, &#8220;stand for
+the Society for Oiling Squeaky Gulls&#8217; Wing
+Hinges. Mr. Gridley is one member; I am the
+other.&#8221;</p>
+<p>And, say, you may not believe it, but hanged
+if it wa&#8217;n&#8217;t a fact! He has a desk in Gridley&#8217;s
+private office, and once a day he shows up there
+and scribbles off a foolish thought on the boss&#8217;s
+calendar pad. That&#8217;s all, except that he draws
+down good money for it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Also I have had word,&#8221; says Marmaduke,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span>
+&#8220;that my aged Uncle Norton is very low of a
+fever.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gee!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Some folks are born
+lucky, though!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And others,&#8221; says he, &#8220;in the Forest of
+Arden.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XI_A_LOOK_IN_ON_THE_GOAT_GAME' id='XI_A_LOOK_IN_ON_THE_GOAT_GAME'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+<h3>A LOOK IN ON THE GOAT GAME</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Pinckney was tellin&#8217; me, here awhile back at
+lunch one day, what terrors them twins of his
+was gettin&#8217; to be. He relates a tragic tale about
+how they&#8217;d just been requested to resign from
+another private school where they&#8217;d been goin&#8217;
+as day scholars.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That is the third this season,&#8221; says he;
+&#8220;the third, mind you!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, there&#8217;s more still, ain&#8217;t there?&#8221;
+says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Brilliant observation, Shorty,&#8221; says he,
+&#8220;also logical and pertinent. Yes, there are several
+others still untried by the twins.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What you howlin&#8217; about, then?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Because,&#8221; says he, toyin&#8217; with the silver
+frame that holds the bill of fare, &#8220;because it is
+not my intention to demoralize all the educational
+institutions of this city in alphabetical
+order.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;G&#8217;wan!&#8221; says I. &#8220;The kids have got to be
+educated somewhere, haven&#8217;t they?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Which is the sad part of it,&#8221; says Pinckney,
+inspectin&#8217; the dish of scrambled eggs and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span>
+asparagus tips and wavin&#8217; the waiter to do the
+serving himself. &#8220;It means,&#8221; he goes on,
+&#8220;having a governess around the house, and
+you know what nuisances they can be.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do I?&#8221; says I. &#8220;The nearest I ever got
+to havin&#8217; a governess was when Mrs. O&#8217;Grady
+from next door used to come in to use our wash-tubs
+and I was left with her for the day. Nobody
+ever called her a nuisance and got away
+with it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What an idyllic youth to look back upon!&#8221;
+says he. &#8220;I can remember half a dozen, at
+least, who had a hand in directing the course of
+my budding intellect, and each one of them developed
+some peculiarity which complicated the
+domestic situation. I am wondering what this
+new governess of ours will contribute.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Got one on the job already, eh?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;This is her third day,&#8221; says he, &#8220;and if she
+manages to live through it with the twins, I
+shall have hope.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, pickles!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Those kids are all
+right. They&#8217;re full of life and ginger, that&#8217;s
+all.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Especially ginger,&#8221; says Pinckney.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What of it?&#8221; says I. &#8220;Or are you just
+blowin&#8217; about &#8217;em? It&#8217;s all right, they&#8217;re a
+great pair, and any time you want to entertain
+me for half an hour, turn &#8217;em loose in my
+comp&#8217;ny.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Done!&#8221; says Pinckney. &#8220;We&#8217;ll take a cab
+right up.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Put it off three minutes, can&#8217;t you?&#8221; says
+I, lookin&#8217; over the French pastry tray and
+spearin&#8217; a frosted creampuff that was decorated
+up with sugar flowers until it looked like a
+bride&#8217;s bouquet.</p>
+<p>He insists on callin&#8217; my bluff, though; so up
+the avenue we goes, when I should have been
+hotfootin&#8217; it back to the studio. But I could see
+that Pinckney was some anxious about how the
+kids was gettin&#8217; on, Gertie being away for the
+day, and I thinks maybe I&#8217;ll be useful in calmin&#8217;
+any riot he might find in progress.</p>
+<p>All was quiet and peaceful, though, as Pinckney
+opens the door with his latchkey. No howls
+from upstairs, no front windows broken, and nobody
+slidin&#8217; down the banisters. We was just
+waitin&#8217; for the automatic elevator to come down
+when we hears voices floatin&#8217; out from the lib&#8217;ry.
+Pinckney steps to the doorway where he can see
+through into the next room, and then beckons
+me up for a squint.</p>
+<p>It wa&#8217;n&#8217;t the kids at all, but a couple of grownups
+that was both strangers to me. From the
+way the young woman is dressed I could guess
+she was the new governess. Anyway, she&#8217;s
+makin&#8217; herself right to home, so far as entertainin&#8217;
+comp&#8217;ny goes; for she and the gent with
+her is more or less close together and mixed up.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span>
+First off it looked like a side-hold lover&#8217;s clinch,
+and then again it didn&#8217;t.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is it a huggin&#8217; match, or a rough-house
+tackle?&#8221; I whispered over Pinckney&#8217;s shoulder.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I pass the declaration,&#8221; says he. &#8220;Suppose
+we investigate.&#8221;</p>
+<p>With that we strolls in, and we&#8217;re within a
+dozen feet of the couple before they get wise
+to the fact that there&#8217;s an int&#8217;rested audience.
+I must say, though, that they made a clean,
+quick breakaway. Then they stands, starin&#8217;
+at us.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, Miss Marston!&#8221; says Pinckney. &#8220;Do
+I interrupt?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why&mdash;er&mdash;er&mdash;you see, sir,&#8221; she begins, &#8220;I&mdash;that
+is&mdash;we&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>And she breaks down with as bad a case of
+rattles as I ever see. She&#8217;s a nice lookin&#8217;, modest
+appearin&#8217; young woman, too, a little soft
+about the mouth, but more or less classy in her
+lines. Her hair is some mussed, and there&#8217;s
+sort of a wild, desp&#8217;rate look in her eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A near relative, I presume?&#8221; suggests
+Pinckney, noddin&#8217; at the gent, who&#8217;s takin&#8217; it
+all cool enough.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes, sir,&#8221; gasps out the governess.
+&#8220;My husband, sir.&#8221;</p>
+<p>And the gent, he bows as easy and natural
+as if he was bein&#8217; introduced at an afternoon
+tea party. &#8220;Glad to know you,&#8221; says he,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span>
+stickin&#8217; out his hand, which Pinckney, bein&#8217; absent-minded
+just then, fails to see.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Really!&#8221; says Pinckney, lookin&#8217; the governess
+up and down. &#8220;Then it&#8217;s not Miss Marston,
+but Mrs.&mdash;er&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; says she, lettin&#8217; her chin drop, &#8220;Mrs.
+Marston.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very unfortunate,&#8221; says Pinckney,
+&#8220;very!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Haw, haw, haw!&#8221; breaks out the strange
+gent, slappin&#8217; his knee. &#8220;I say now, but that&#8217;s
+a good one, that is, even if it is at my expense!
+Unfortunate, eh? Perfectly true though, perfectly
+true!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Now it takes a lot to get Pinckney going; but
+for a minute all he does is turn and size up this
+husband party with the keen sense of humor. I
+had my mouth open and my eyes bugged too;
+for he don&#8217;t look the part at all. Why, he&#8217;s
+dressed neat and expensive, a little sporty
+maybe, for a real gent; but he carries it off
+well.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Glad to have your assurance that I was
+right,&#8221; says Pinckney, still givin&#8217; him the frosty
+eye.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, don&#8217;t mention it,&#8221; says Mr. Marston.
+&#8220;And I trust you will overlook my butting in
+here to see Kitty&mdash;er, Mrs. Marston. Little
+matter of sentiment and&mdash;well, business, you
+know. I don&#8217;t think it will happen often.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I am quite sure it won&#8217;t,&#8221; says Pinckney.
+&#8220;And now, if the interview has been finished,
+I would suggest that&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, certainly, certainly!&#8221; says Marston,
+edging towards the door. &#8220;Allow me, gentlemen,
+to bid you good-day. And I say, Kit, don&#8217;t
+forget that little matter. By-by.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Honest, if I could make as slick a backout as
+that, without carryin&#8217; away anybody&#8217;s footprint,
+I&#8217;d rate myself a headliner among the
+trouble dodgers. Pinckney, though, don&#8217;t seem
+to appreciate such talents.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That settles governess No. 1,&#8221; says he as
+we starts for the elevator again. &#8220;We are beginning
+the series well.&#8221;</p>
+<p>That was before he saw how smooth she got
+along with Jack and Jill. After she&#8217;d given
+an exhibition of kid trainin&#8217; that was a wonder,
+he remarked that possibly he might as well let
+her stay the week out.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But of course,&#8221; says he, &#8220;she will have
+to go. Hanged if I understand how Mrs. Purdy-Pell
+happened to send her here, either! Shorty,
+do you suppose Sadie could throw any light
+on this case?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll call for a report,&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>Does Sadie know anything about the Marstons?
+Well, rather! Says she told me all about
+&#8217;em at the time too; but if she did it must have
+got by. Anyway, this was just a plain, simple
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span>
+case of a worthless son marryin&#8217; the fam&#8217;ly governess
+and bein&#8217; thrown out for it by a stern
+parent, same as they always are in them English
+novels Sadie&#8217;s forever readin&#8217;.</p>
+<p>The Marstons was Madison-ave. folks, which
+means that their back yard was bounded on the
+west by the smart set&mdash;and that&#8217;s as far as
+there&#8217;s any need of going. The girl comes from
+&#8217;Frisco and is an earthquake orphan. Hence
+the governess stunt. As for young Marston,
+he&#8217;d been chucked out of college, tried out for
+a failure in the old man&#8217;s brokerage office, and
+then left to drift around town on a skimpy allowance.
+So he was in fine shape to get married!
+The girl sticks to him, though, until
+there&#8217;s trouble with the landlady, and then,
+when he only turns ugly and makes no move towards
+gettin&#8217; a job, she calls it off, gives him
+the slip, and begins rustlin&#8217; for herself.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, well,&#8221; says Pinckney, &#8220;I suppose she
+ought to have a chance. But if that husband of
+hers is going to&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Next time you catch him at it,&#8221; says I,
+&#8220;just &#8217;phone down for me. It&#8217;ll be a pleasure.&#8221;</p>
+<p>I meant it too; for after hearing how she&#8217;d
+lost other places on account of his hangin&#8217;
+around I could have enjoyed mussin&#8217; him up
+some.</p>
+<p>With my feelin&#8217; that way, you can guess what
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span>
+a jar it is, one afternoon when I&#8217;m having a
+little front office chat with my old reg&#8217;lar, Pyramid
+Gordon, to see this same gent blow in
+through the door. Almost looked like he knew
+what he ought to get and had come after it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well?&#8221; says I as chilly as I knew how.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Quite so,&#8221; says he, &#8220;quite so. I see you
+remember our recent meeting. Awkward situation
+for a moment, wasn&#8217;t it, eh? Splendid chap,
+though, your friend&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Say, choke off the hot air,&#8221; says I, &#8220;and
+let&#8217;s hear what gave you the courage to climb
+those stairs!&#8221;</p>
+<p>And what do you guess? He takes five minutes
+of steady chinnin&#8217; to get around to it; but
+he puts over such a velvety line of talk, and it&#8217;s
+so int&#8217;restin&#8217; to watch him do it, that I let him
+spiel ahead until he gets to the enactin&#8217; clause
+in his own way. And it&#8217;s nothing more or less
+than a brassy fingered touch for a twenty, all
+based on the fact that he met me at a house
+where his wife&#8217;s drawin&#8217; wages.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Gordon,&#8221; says I, turnin&#8217; to Pyramid,
+who&#8217;s heard it all, &#8220;what do you think of that,
+anyway?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very neat, indeed,&#8221; says Pyramid, chucklin&#8217;.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And then a few!&#8221; says I. &#8220;I can almost
+see myself givin&#8217; up that twenty right off the
+bat. Nothing but great presence of mind and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span>
+wonderful self-control holds me back. But look
+here, Mr. What&#8217;s-your-name&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Marston,&#8221; says he, flashin&#8217; an engraved visitin&#8217;
+card, &#8220;L. Egbert Marston.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;L. Egbert, eh?&#8221; says I. &#8220;Does the L stand
+for Limed? And what do they call you for
+short&mdash;Eggie?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, suit yourself,&#8221; says he, with a careless
+wave of the hand.</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right, Eggie,&#8221; says I; &#8220;but before we
+get in any deeper I&#8217;ve got a conundrum or two
+to spring on you. We got kind of curious,
+Pinckney and me, about that visit of yours. He
+thinks we disturbed a fond embrace. It looked
+diff&#8217;rent to me. I thought I could see finger-marks
+on the young lady&#8217;s throat. How about
+it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Course he flushes up. Any man would under
+a jab like that, and I looked for him either to
+begin breakin&#8217; the peace or start lyin&#8217; out of
+it. There&#8217;s considerable beef to Egbert, you
+know. He&#8217;d probably weigh in at a hundred and
+eighty, with all that flabby meat on him, and if
+it wa&#8217;n&#8217;t for that sort of cheap look to his face
+you might take him for a real man. But he
+don&#8217;t show any more fight than a cow. He don&#8217;t
+even put in any indignant &#8220;Not guilty!&#8221; He
+just shrugs his shoulders and indulges in a
+sickly laugh.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It doesn&#8217;t sound nice,&#8221; says he; &#8220;but sometimes
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span>
+they do need a bit of training, these
+women.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;For instance?&#8221; says I. &#8220;In the matter of
+handing over a little spendin&#8217; money, eh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve struck it,&#8221; says he, with another
+shrug.</p>
+<p>I glances at Pyramid; but there wa&#8217;n&#8217;t any
+more expression to that draw poker face of his
+than as if it was a cement block.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Egbert,&#8221; says I, frank and confidential,
+&#8220;you&#8217;re a sweet scented pill, ain&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>And does that draw any assault and battery
+motions? It don&#8217;t. All the result is to narrow
+them shifty eyes of his and steady &#8217;em down
+until he&#8217;s lookin&#8217; me square in the face.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I was hard up, if you want to know,&#8221; says
+he. &#8220;I didn&#8217;t have a dollar.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And that,&#8221; says I, &#8220;is what you give out
+as an excuse for&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; he breaks in. &#8220;And I&#8217;m no worse
+than lots of other men, either. With money,
+I&#8217;m a gentleman; without it&mdash;well, I get it any
+way I can. And I want to tell you, I&#8217;ve seen
+men with plenty of it get more in meaner ways.
+I don&#8217;t know how to juggle stocks, or wreck
+banks, or use any of the respectable methods
+that&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing personal, I hope,&#8221; puts in Mr. Gordon,
+with another chuckle.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not so intended,&#8221; says Marston.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Eh, thanks,&#8221; says Pyramid.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll admit,&#8221; says I, &#8220;that your partic&#8217;lar
+way of raisin&#8217; funds, Mr. Marston, ain&#8217;t exactly
+novel; but didn&#8217;t it ever occur to you that some
+folks get theirs by workin&#8217; for it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know,&#8221; says he, tryin&#8217; to seem good natured
+again; &#8220;but I&#8217;m not that kind. I&#8217;m an
+idler. As some poet has put it, &#8216;Useless I linger,
+a cumberer here.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re a cucumber, all right,&#8221; says I; &#8220;but
+why not, just for a change, make a stab at gettin&#8217;
+a job?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve had several,&#8221; says he, &#8220;and never
+could hold one more than a week. Too monotonous,
+for one thing; and then, in these offices,
+one is thrown among so many ill bred persons,
+you know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure!&#8221; says I, feelin&#8217; my temper&#8217;ture
+risin&#8217;. &#8220;Parties that had rather work for a
+pay envelope than choke their wives. I&#8217;ve met
+&#8217;em. I&#8217;ve heard of your kind too, Egbert; but
+you&#8217;re the first specimen I ever got real close
+to. And you&#8217;re a bird! Mr. Gordon, shall I
+chuck him through the window, or help him
+downstairs with my toe?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wouldn&#8217;t do either,&#8221; says Pyramid. &#8220;In
+fact, I think I can make use of this young man.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then you&#8217;re welcome to him,&#8221; says I.
+&#8220;Blaze ahead.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Much obliged,&#8221; says Pyramid. &#8220;Now, Mr.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span>
+Marston, what is the most reasonable sum, per
+month, that would allow you to carry out your
+idea of being a gentleman?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Egbert thinks that over a minute and then
+puts it at three hundred.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And would it conflict with those ideas,&#8221;
+Pyramid goes on, &#8220;if you were required, say
+twice a week, to spend an hour in a private office,
+signing your name?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Egbert thinks he could stand that.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very well, then,&#8221; says Pyramid, producin&#8217;
+his checkbook and gettin&#8217; busy with the fountain
+pen, &#8220;here is your first month&#8217;s salary in advance.
+Whenever you find it convenient during
+the week, report at my offices. Ask for Mr.
+Bradley. Yes, Bradley. That&#8217;s all,&#8221; and Pyramid
+lights up one of his torches as satisfied as
+though he&#8217;d just bought in a Senator.</p>
+<p>As for Egbert, he stows the check away, taps
+me on the shoulder, and remarks real friendly,
+&#8220;Well, professor, no hard feelings, I hope?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Say, Eggie,&#8221; says I, &#8220;seems to me I expressed
+myself once on that point, and I ain&#8217;t
+had any sudden change of heart. If I was you
+I&#8217;d beat while the beatin&#8217;s good.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Egbert laughs; but he takes the advice.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Huh!&#8221; says I to Pyramid. &#8220;I expect
+that&#8217;s your notion of making a funny play,
+eh!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m no humorist, Shorty,&#8221; says he.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Then what&#8217;s the idea?&#8221; says I. &#8220;What do
+you mean?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I never mean anything but cold, straight
+business,&#8221; says he. &#8220;That&#8217;s the only game
+worth playing.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;So?&#8221; says I. &#8220;Then here&#8217;s where you got
+let in bad with your eyes open. You heard him
+tell how useless he was?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I did,&#8221; says Pyramid; &#8220;but I always do
+my own appraising when I hire men. I anticipate
+finding Mr. Marston somewhat useful.&#8221;</p>
+<p>And say, that&#8217;s all I can get out of Pyramid
+on the subject; for when it comes to business,
+he&#8217;s about as chatty over his plans as a hard
+shell clam on the suffragette question. I&#8217;ve
+known him to make some freak plans; but this
+move of pickin&#8217; out a yellow one like Egbert
+and rewardin&#8217; him as if he was a Carnegie
+medal winner beat anything he&#8217;d ever sprung
+yet.</p>
+<p>It&#8217;s no bluff, either. I hears of this Marston
+gent sportin&#8217; around at the clubs, and it wa&#8217;n&#8217;t
+until I accident&#8217;lly run across an item on the
+Wall Street page that I gets any more details.
+He shows up, if you please, as secretary of the
+Consolidated Holding Company that there&#8217;s
+been so much talk about. I asks Pinckney what
+kind of an outfit that was; but he don&#8217;t
+know.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Huh!&#8221; says I. &#8220;All I&#8217;d feel safe in givin&#8217;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span>
+Egbert to hold for me would be one end of the
+Brooklyn Bridge.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t care what he holds,&#8221; says Pinckney,
+&#8220;if he will stay away from our little governess.
+She&#8217;s a treasure.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Seems Mrs. Marston had been doin&#8217; some
+great tricks with the twins, not only keepin&#8217;
+&#8217;em from marrin&#8217; the furniture, but teachin&#8217; &#8217;em
+all kinds of knowledge and improvin&#8217; their table
+manners, until it was almost safe to have &#8217;em
+down to luncheon now and then.</p>
+<p>But her life was being made miser&#8217;ble by the
+prospect of havin&#8217; Egbert show up any day and
+create a row. She confided the whole tale to
+Sadie, how she was through with Marston for
+good, but didn&#8217;t dare tell him so, and how she
+sent him most of her salary to keep him
+away.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The loafer!&#8221; says I. &#8220;And think of the
+chance I had at him there in the studio!
+Hanged if I don&#8217;t get even with Pyramid for
+that, though!&#8221;</p>
+<p>But I didn&#8217;t. Mr. Gordon&#8217;s been too busy
+this season to show up for any trainin&#8217;, and
+it was only here the other day that I runs across
+him in the street.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; says I, &#8220;how&#8217;s that work scornin&#8217;
+pet of yours gettin&#8217; on these days?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Marston?&#8221; says he. &#8220;Why, haven&#8217;t you
+heard? Mr. Marston is away on a vacation.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Vacation!&#8221; says I. &#8220;He needs it, he
+does!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The company thought so,&#8221; says Pyramid.
+&#8220;They gave him six months&#8217; leave with pay.
+He&#8217;s hunting reindeer or musk ox somewhere up
+in British Columbia.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Him a hunter?&#8221; says I. &#8220;G&#8217;wan!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Pyramid grins. &#8220;He did develop a liking for
+the wilderness rather suddenly,&#8221; says he; &#8220;but
+that is where he is now. In fact, I shouldn&#8217;t be
+surprised if he stayed up there for a year or
+more.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the joke?&#8221; says I, catchin&#8217; a flicker
+in them puffy eyes of Pyramid&#8217;s.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, just this,&#8221; says he. &#8220;Mr. Marston,
+you know, is secretary of the Consolidated Holding
+Company.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I read about that,&#8221; says I. &#8220;What
+then?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It pains me to state,&#8221; says Mr. Gordon,
+&#8220;that in his capacity of secretary Mr. Marston
+seems to have sanctioned transactions which
+violate the Interstate Commerce act.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah-ha!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Turned crooked on you,
+did he?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We are not sure as yet,&#8221; says Pyramid.
+&#8220;The federal authorities are anxious to settle
+that point by examining certain files which appear
+to be missing. They even asked me about
+them. Perhaps you didn&#8217;t notice, Shorty, that
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span>
+I was cross-examined for five hours, one day last
+week.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t read them muck rakin&#8217; articles,&#8221;
+says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Quite right,&#8221; says Pyramid. &#8220;Well, I
+couldn&#8217;t explain; for, as their own enterprising
+detectives discovered, when Mr. Marston
+boarded the Montreal Express his baggage included
+a trunk and two large cases. Odd of
+him to take shipping files on a hunting trip,
+wasn&#8217;t it?&#8221; and Pyramid tips me the slow
+wink.</p>
+<p>I&#8217;m more or less of a thickhead when it
+comes to flossy finance; but I&#8217;ve seen enough
+plain flimflam games to know a few things. And
+the wink clinched it. &#8220;Mr. Gordon,&#8221; says I,
+&#8220;for a Mr. Smooth you&#8217;ve got a greased pig in
+the warthog class. But suppose Egbert gets
+sick of the woods and hikes himself back? What
+then?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Jail,&#8221; says Pyramid, shruggin&#8217; his sable
+collar up around his ears. &#8220;That would be
+rather deplorable too. Bright young man,
+Marston, in many ways, and peculiarly adapted
+for&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I know the part,&#8221; says I. &#8220;They
+gen&#8217;rally spells it g-o-a-t.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XII_MRS_TRUCKLES__BROAD_JUMP' id='XII_MRS_TRUCKLES__BROAD_JUMP'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2>
+<h3>MRS. TRUCKLES&#8217; BROAD JUMP</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>And do you imagine Kitty Marston settles
+down to a life job after that? Not her. At
+the very next pay day she hands in her two
+weeks&#8217; notice, and when they pin her right down
+to facts she admits weepy that she means to
+start out lookin&#8217; for Egbert. Now wouldn&#8217;t
+that crust you?</p>
+<p>Course, the sequel to that is another governess
+hunt which winds up with Madame Roulaire.
+And say, talk about your queer cases&mdash;&mdash;But
+you might as well have the details.</p>
+<p>You see, until Aunt Martha arrived on the
+scene this Madame Roulaire business was only
+a fam&#8217;ly joke over to Pinckney&#8217;s, with all of us
+in on it more or less. But Aunt Martha ain&#8217;t
+been there more&#8217;n three or four days before
+she&#8217;s dug up mystery and scandal and tragedy
+enough for another one of them French dope
+dramas.</p>
+<p>&#8220;In my opinion,&#8221; says she, &#8220;that woman is
+hiding some dreadful secret!&#8221;</p>
+<p>But Mrs. Pinckney only smiles in that calm,
+placid way of hers. You know how easy she took
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span>
+things when she was Miss Geraldine and Pinckney
+found her on the steamer in charge of the
+twins that had been willed to him? Well, she
+ain&#8217;t changed a bit; and, with Pinckney such
+a brilliant member of the Don&#8217;t Worry Fraternity,
+whatever frettin&#8217; goes on in that house
+has to be done by volunteers.</p>
+<p>Aunt Martha acts like she was wise to this;
+for she starts right in to make up for lost opportunities,
+and when she spots this freaky
+lookin&#8217; governess she immediately begins
+scoutin&#8217; for trouble. Suspicions? She delivers
+a fresh lot after every meal!</p>
+<p>&#8220;Humph!&#8221; says she. &#8220;Madame Roulaire,
+indeed! Well, I must say, she looks as little
+like a Frenchwoman as any person I ever saw!
+How long have you had her, Geraldine? What,
+only two months? Did she bring written references,
+and did you investigate them carefully?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She wouldn&#8217;t let up, either, until she&#8217;d been
+assured that Madame Roulaire had come from
+service in an English fam&#8217;ly, and that they&#8217;d
+written on crested notepaper indorsin&#8217; her in
+every point, giving her whole hist&#8217;ry from childhood
+up.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But she hasn&#8217;t the slightest French accent,&#8221;
+insists Aunt Martha.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know,&#8221; says Mrs. Pinckney. &#8220;She lived
+in England from the time she was sixteen, and
+of course twenty years away from one&#8217;s&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Does she claim to be only thirty-six?&#8221; exclaims
+Aunt Martha. &#8220;Why, she&#8217;s fifty if she&#8217;s
+a day! Besides, I don&#8217;t like that snaky way
+she has of watching everyone.&#8221;</p>
+<p>There was no denyin&#8217;, either, that this Roulaire
+party did have a pair of shifty eyes in
+her head. I&#8217;d noticed that much myself in the
+few times I&#8217;d seen her. They wa&#8217;n&#8217;t any particular
+color you could name,&mdash;sort of a greeny
+gray-blue,&mdash;but they sure was bright and restless.
+You&#8217;d never hear a sound out of her, for
+she didn&#8217;t let go of any remarks that wa&#8217;n&#8217;t
+dragged from her; but somehow you felt, from
+the minute you got into the room until she&#8217;d
+made a gumshoe exit by the nearest door, that
+them sleuthy lamps never quite lost sight of you.</p>
+<p>That and her smile was the main points about
+her. I&#8217;ve seen a lot of diff&#8217;rent kinds of smiles,
+meanin&#8217; and unmeanin&#8217;; but this chronic half-smirk
+of Madame Roulaire&#8217;s was about the most
+unconvincin&#8217; performance I&#8217;ve ever watched.
+Why, even a blind man could tell she didn&#8217;t
+really mean it! Outside of that, she was just
+a plain, pie faced sort of female with shrinkin&#8217;,
+apologizin&#8217; ways and a set of store teeth that
+didn&#8217;t fit any too well; but she wa&#8217;n&#8217;t one that
+you&#8217;d suspect of anything more tragic than
+eatin&#8217; maraschino cherries on the sly, or swappin&#8217;
+household gossip with the cook.</p>
+<p>That wa&#8217;n&#8217;t the way Martha had her sized
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span>
+up, though, and of course there was no keepin&#8217;
+her inquisitive nose out of the case. First thing
+anyone knew, she&#8217;d backed Madame Roulaire
+into a corner, put her through the third degree,
+and come trottin&#8217; back in triumph to Mrs.
+Pinckney.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Didn&#8217;t I tell you?&#8221; says she. &#8220;French!
+Bosh! Perhaps you haven&#8217;t asked her about
+Auberge-sur-Mer, where she says she was
+born?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Greraldine admits that she ain&#8217;t done much
+pumpin&#8217;.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I have,&#8221; says Aunt Martha, &#8220;and
+she couldn&#8217;t tell me a thing about the place that
+was so. I spent ten days there only two years
+ago, and remember it perfectly. She isn&#8217;t any
+more French than I am.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, what of it?&#8221; says Mrs. Pinckney.
+&#8220;She gets along splendidly with the twins.
+They think the world of her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But she&#8217;s thoroughly deceitful,&#8221; Aunt
+Martha comes back. &#8220;She misrepresents her
+age, lies about her birthplace, and&mdash;and she
+wears a transformation wig.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I had noticed the brown wig,&#8221; admits
+Mrs. Pinckney; &#8220;but they&#8217;re quite common.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;So are women poisoners,&#8221; snaps Martha.
+&#8220;Think of what happened to the Briggses, after
+they took in that strange maid! Then there
+was the Madame Catossi case, over in Florence
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span>
+last year. They were warned about her,
+you remember.&#8221;</p>
+<p>And maybe you know how a good lively suspecter
+can get results when she keeps followin&#8217;
+it up. They got to watchin&#8217; the governess close
+when she was around, and noticin&#8217; all the little
+slips in her talk and the crab-like motions
+she made in dodgin&#8217; strangers. That appears
+to make her worse than ever, too. She&#8217;d get
+fussed every time anyone looked her way, and
+just some little question about the children
+would make her jump and color up like she&#8217;d
+been accused of burnin&#8217; a barn. Even Sadie,
+who&#8217;d been standin&#8217; up for her right along,
+begins to weaken.</p>
+<p>&#8220;After all,&#8221; says she, &#8220;I&#8217;m not sure there
+isn&#8217;t something queer about that woman.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, all governesses are queer, ain&#8217;t they?&#8221;
+says I; &#8220;but that ain&#8217;t any sign they&#8217;ve done
+time or are in the habit of dosin&#8217; the coffeepot
+with arsenic. It&#8217;s Aunt Martha has stirred
+all this mess up, and she&#8217;d make the angel
+Gabriel prove who he was by blowin&#8217; bugle
+calls.&#8221;</p>
+<p>It was only next day, though, that we gets a
+report of what happens when Pinckney runs
+across this Sir Carpenter-Podmore at the club
+and lugs him out to dinner. He&#8217;s an English
+gent Pinckney had known abroad. Comin&#8217; in
+unexpected that way, him and Madame Roulaire
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span>
+had met face to face in the hall, while the introductions
+was bein&#8217; passed out&mdash;and what
+does she do but turn putty colored and shake
+like she was havin&#8217; a fit!</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, Truckles?&#8221; says Podmore, sort of cordial.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, no!&#8221; she gasps. &#8220;Roulaire! I am
+Madame Roulaire!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Beg pardon, I&#8217;m sure,&#8221; says Sir Carpenter,
+liftin&#8217; his eyebrows and passin&#8217; on.</p>
+<p>That was all there was to it; but everyone
+in the house heard about it. Course Aunt
+Martha jumps right in with the question marks;
+but all she gets out of Podmore is that he presumes
+he was mistaken.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, maybe he was,&#8221; says I. &#8220;Why
+not?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then you haven&#8217;t heard,&#8221; says Sadie,
+&#8220;that Sir Carpenter was for a long time a
+Judge on the criminal bench.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Z-z-z-zing!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Looks kind of
+squally for the governess, don&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>If it hadn&#8217;t been for Pinckney, too, Aunt
+Martha&#8217;d had her thrown out that night; but
+he wouldn&#8217;t have it that way.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve never been murdered in my bed, or
+been fed on ground glass,&#8221; says he, &#8220;and&mdash;who
+knows?&mdash;I might like the sensation.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Say, there&#8217;s more sides to that Pinckney than
+there are to a cutglass paperweight. You
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span>
+might think, with him such a Reggie chap, that
+havin&#8217; a suspicious character like that around
+would get on his nerves; but, when it comes to
+applyin&#8217; the real color test, there ain&#8217;t any
+more yellow in him than in a ball of bluin&#8217;, and
+he can be as curious about certain things as a
+kid investigatin&#8217; the animal cages.</p>
+<p>Rather than tie the can to Madame Roulaire
+without gettin&#8217; a straight line on her, he was
+willin&#8217; to run chances. And it don&#8217;t make any
+difference to him how much Aunt Martha croaks
+about this and that, and suggests how dreadful
+it is to think of those dear, innocent little children
+exposed to such evil influences. That last
+item appeals strong to Mrs. Pinckney and Sadie,
+though.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course,&#8221; says Geraldine, &#8220;the twins
+don&#8217;t suspect a thing as yet, and whatever we
+discover must be kept from them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Certainly,&#8221; says Sadie, &#8220;the poor little
+dears mustn&#8217;t know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>So part of the programme was to keep them
+out of her way as much as possible without
+actually callin&#8217; her to the bench, and that&#8217;s what
+fetched me out there early the other afternoon.
+It was my turn at protectin&#8217; innocent childhood.
+I must say, though, it&#8217;s hard realizin&#8217; they need
+anything of that sort when you&#8217;re within reach
+of that Jack and Jill combination. Most people
+seem to feel the other way; but, while their society
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span>
+is apt to be more or less strenuous, I can
+gen&#8217;rally stand an hour or so of it without
+collectin&#8217; any broken bones.</p>
+<p>As usual, they receives me with an ear splittin&#8217;
+whoop, and while Jill gives me the low
+tackle around the knees Jack proceeds to climb
+up my back and twine his arms affectionate
+around my neck.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hey, Uncle Shorty,&#8221; they yells in chorus,
+&#8220;come play Wild West with us!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;G&#8217;wan, you young terrors!&#8221; says I, luggin&#8217;
+&#8217;em out on the lawn and dumpin&#8217; &#8217;em on the
+grass. &#8220;Think I&#8217;d risk my neck at any such
+game as that? Hi! leggo that necktie or I&#8217;ll
+put on the spanks! Say, ain&#8217;t you got any
+respect for company clothes? Now straighten
+up quiet and tell me about the latest deviltry
+you&#8217;ve been up to.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Pooh!&#8221; says Jill. &#8220;We&#8217;re not afraid of
+you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And we know why you&#8217;re here to-day, too,&#8221;
+says Jack.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you?&#8221; says I. &#8220;Well, let&#8217;s have
+it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re on guard,&#8221; says Jill, &#8220;keeping us
+away from old Clicky.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Old Clicky?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Uh-huh,&#8221; says Jack. &#8220;The goosy governess,
+you know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eh?&#8221; says I, openin&#8217; my eyes.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;We call her that,&#8221; says Jill, &#8220;because her
+teeth click so when she gets excited. At night
+she keeps &#8217;em in a glass of water. Do you suppose
+they click then?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Her hair comes off too,&#8221; says Jack, &#8220;and
+it&#8217;s all gray underneath. We fished it off once,
+and she was awful mad.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You just ought to hear her when she gets
+mad,&#8221; says Jill. &#8220;She drops her H&#8217;s.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;She don&#8217;t do it before folks, though,&#8221; says
+Jack, &#8220;&#8217;cause she makes believe she&#8217;s French.
+She&#8217;s awful good to us, though, and we love
+her just heaps.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve got queer ways of showin&#8217; it,&#8221;
+says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What makes Aunt Martha so scared of
+her?&#8221; says Jill. &#8220;Do you think it&#8217;s so she
+would really and truly murder us all and run
+off with the jewelry, or that she&#8217;d let in burglars
+after dark? She meets someone every Thursday
+night by the side gate, you know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A tall woman with veils over her face,&#8221;
+adds Jack. &#8220;We hid in the bushes and watched
+&#8217;em.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Say, for the love of Mike,&#8221; says I, &#8220;is
+there anything about your governess you kids
+haven&#8217;t heard or seen? What more do you
+know?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lots,&#8221; says Jill. &#8220;She&#8217;s scared of Marie,
+the new maid. Marie makes her help with the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span>
+dishes, and make up her own bed, and wait on
+herself all the time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And she has to study beforehand all the
+lessons she makes us learn,&#8221; says Jack. &#8220;She
+studies like fun every night in her room, and
+when we ask questions from the back of the
+book she don&#8217;t know the answers.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s been too scared to study or anything,
+ever since Monday,&#8221; says Jill. &#8220;Do you think
+they&#8217;ll have a policeman take her away before
+she poisons us all? We heard Aunt Martha
+say they ought to.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Say, they had the whole story, and more too.
+If there was anything about Madame Roulaire&#8217;s
+actions, her past hist&#8217;ry, or what people thought
+of her that had got by these two, I&#8217;d like to
+know what it was.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gee!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Talk about protectin&#8217;
+you! What you need most is a pair of gags
+and some blinders. Now trot along off and do
+your worst, while I look up Pinckney and give
+him some advice.&#8221;</p>
+<p>I was strollin&#8217; through the house lookin&#8217; for
+him, and I&#8217;d got as far as the lib&#8217;ry, when who
+should I see but Madame Roulaire comin&#8217;
+through the opposite door. Someway, I didn&#8217;t
+feel like meetin&#8217; them sleuthy eyes just then, or
+seein&#8217; that smirky smile; so I dodges back and
+pikes down the hall. She must have had the
+same thought; for we almost collides head on
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span>
+halfway down, and the next thing I know she&#8217;s
+dropped onto a davenport, sobbin&#8217; and shakin&#8217;
+all over.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Excuse me for mentionin&#8217; it,&#8221; says I; &#8220;but
+there ain&#8217;t any call for hysterics.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I know who you are now,&#8221; says she.
+&#8220;You&mdash;you&#8217;re a private detective!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eh?&#8221; says I. &#8220;How&#8217;d you get onto my
+disguise?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I knew it from the first,&#8221; says she. &#8220;And
+then, when I saw you with the children, asking
+them about me&mdash;&mdash;Oh, you won&#8217;t arrest me
+and take me away from the darlings, will you?
+Please don&#8217;t take me to jail! I&#8217;ll tell you everything,
+truly I will, sir!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That might help some,&#8221; says I; &#8220;but, if
+you&#8217;re goin&#8217; to &#8217;fess up, suppose you begin at
+Chapter I. Was it the fam&#8217;ly jewels you was
+after?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, no!&#8221; says she. &#8220;I never took a penny&#8217;s
+worth in my life. Truckles could tell you
+that if he could only be here.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Truckles, eh!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Now just who
+was&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My &#8217;usband, sir,&#8221; says she. &#8220;And I&#8217;m Mrs.
+Truckles.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh-ho!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Then this Roulaire
+name you&#8217;ve been flaggin&#8217; under was sort of
+a <i>nom de plume</i>?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It was for Katy I did it!&#8221; she sobs.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes,&#8221; says I. &#8220;Well, what about
+Katy?&#8221;</p>
+<p>And, say, that was the way it come out; first,
+a bit here and then a bit there, with me puttin&#8217;
+the ends together and patchin&#8217; this soggy everyday
+yarn out of what we&#8217;d all thought was such
+a deep, dark mystery.</p>
+<p>She was English, Mrs. Truckles was, and so
+was the late Truckles. They&#8217;d worked together,
+him bein&#8217; a first class butler whose only fault
+was he couldn&#8217;t keep his fingers off the decanters.
+It was after he&#8217;d struck the bottom of
+the toboggan slide and that thirst of his had
+finished him for good and all that Mrs. Truckles
+collects her little Katy from where they&#8217;d
+boarded her out and comes across to try her
+luck on this side.</p>
+<p>She&#8217;d worked up as far as housekeeper, and
+had made enough to educate Katy real well and
+marry her off to a bright young gent by the
+name of McGowan that owned a half interest
+in a corner saloon up in the Bronx and stood
+well with the district leader.</p>
+<p>She was happy and contented in them days,
+Mrs. Truckles was, with McGowan doin&#8217; a
+rushin&#8217; business, gettin&#8217; his name on the Tammany
+ticket, and Katy patronizing a swell
+dressmaker and havin&#8217; a maid of her own.
+Then, all of a sudden, Mrs. Truckles tumbles
+to the fact that Katy is gettin&#8217; ashamed of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span>
+havin&#8217; a mother that&#8217;s out to service and eatin&#8217;
+with the chauffeur and the cook. Not that she
+wants her livin&#8217; with them,&mdash;McGowan wouldn&#8217;t
+stand for that,&mdash;but Katy did think Mother
+might do something for a living that wouldn&#8217;t
+blur up the fam&#8217;ly escutcheon quite so much.</p>
+<p>It was just when Mrs. Truckles was feelin&#8217;
+this most keen that the French governess where
+she was got married and went West to live,
+leavin&#8217; behind her, besides a collection of old
+hats, worn out shoes, and faded picture postals,
+this swell reference from Lady Jigwater. And
+havin&#8217; put in a year or so in France with dif&#8217;rent
+families that had taken her across, and
+havin&#8217; had to pick up more or less of the language,
+Mrs. Truckles conceives the great scheme
+of promotin&#8217; herself from the back to the front
+of the house. So she chucks up as workin&#8217;
+housekeeper, splurges on the wig, and strikes
+a swell intelligence office with this phony reference.</p>
+<p>Course, with anybody else but an easy mark
+like Mrs. Pinckney, maybe she wouldn&#8217;t have
+got away with it; but all Geraldine does is
+glance at the paper, ask her if she likes children,
+and put her on the payroll.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well?&#8221; says I. &#8220;And it got you some worried
+tryin&#8217; to make good, eh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I was near crazy over it,&#8221; says she. &#8220;I
+thought I could do it at first; but it came cruel
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span>
+&#8217;ard. Oh, sir, the lies I&#8217;ve &#8217;ad to tell, keepin&#8217;
+it up. And with the rest of the &#8217;elp all &#8217;ating
+me! Marie used me worst of all, though. She
+made me tell &#8217;er everything, and &#8217;eld it over my
+&#8217;ead. Next that Aunt Martha came and thought
+up so many bad things about me&mdash;you know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure,&#8221; says I; &#8220;but how about this Sir
+Podmore?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I was &#8217;ead laundress at Podmore &#8217;Ouse,&#8221;
+says she, &#8220;and I thought it was all up when he
+saw me here. I never should have tried to do
+it. I&#8217;m a good &#8217;ousekeeper, if I do say it; but
+I&#8217;m getting to be an old woman now, and this
+will end me. It was for Katy I did it, though.
+Every week she used to come and throw it in
+my face that she couldn&#8217;t call at the front door
+and&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;Well, I &#8217;opes you&#8217;ll believe me,
+sir; but that was just the way of it, and if I&#8217;m
+taken to jail it will kill Katy and&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Aha!&#8221; breaks in a voice behind us. &#8220;Here,
+Pinckney! Come, Geraldine! This way everybody!&#8221;
+and as I turns around there&#8217;s Aunt
+Martha with the accusin&#8217; finger out and her
+face fairly beamin&#8217;. Before I can get in a word
+she&#8217;s assembled the fam&#8217;ly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What did I tell you?&#8221; she cackles. &#8220;She&#8217;s
+broken down and confessed! I heard her!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is it true, Shorty?&#8221; demands Mrs. Pinckney.
+&#8220;Does she admit that she was plotting
+to&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Yep!&#8221; says I. &#8220;It&#8217;s something awful too,
+almost enough to curdle your blood.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Go on,&#8221; says Aunt Martha. &#8220;Tell us the
+worst. What is it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a case of standin&#8217; broad jump,&#8221; says
+I, &#8220;from housekeeper to governess, with an
+age handicap and a crooked entry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Course, I has to work out the details for &#8217;em,
+and when I&#8217;ve stated the whole hideous plot,
+from the passing of Truckles the Thirsty to the
+high pride of Katy the Barkeep&#8217;s Bride, includin&#8217;
+the tale of the stolen character and
+chuckin&#8217; the nervy bluff&mdash;well, they didn&#8217;t any
+of &#8217;em know what to say. They just stands
+around gawpin&#8217; curious at this sobbin&#8217;, wabbly
+kneed old party slumped down there on the hall
+seat.</p>
+<p>Aunt Martha, actin&#8217; as prosecutor for the
+State, is the first to recover. &#8220;Well, there&#8217;s no
+knowin&#8217; how far she might have gone,&#8221; says
+she. &#8220;And she ought to be punished some
+way. Pinckney, what are you going to do with
+her?&#8221;</p>
+<p>For a minute he looks from Aunt Martha to
+the object in the middle of the circle, and then
+he drops them black eyelashes lazy, like he was
+half-asleep, and I knew somethin&#8217; was coming
+worth listenin&#8217; to.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Considering all the circumstances,&#8221; says
+Pinckney, &#8220;I think we shall discharge Marie,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span>
+increase Mrs. Truckles&#8217; salary, give her an assistant,
+and ask her to stay with us permanently.
+Eh, Geraldine?&#8221;</p>
+<p>And Geraldine nods hearty.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Pinckney, let&#8217;s shake on that,&#8221; says I.
+&#8220;Even if your head is full of soap bubbles,
+you&#8217;ve got an eighteen-carat heart in you.
+Hear the news, Mrs. Truckles?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then&mdash;then I&#8217;m not to go to jail?&#8221; says
+she, takin&#8217; her hands off her face and lookin&#8217;
+up straight and steady for the first time in
+months.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Jail nothin&#8217;!&#8221; says I. &#8220;There&#8217;s goin&#8217; to
+be a new deal, and you start in fresh with a
+clean slate.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Humph!&#8221; snorts Aunt Martha. &#8220;Do you
+expect me to stay here and countenance any such
+folly?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m far too considerate of my relatives for
+that,&#8221; says Pinckney. &#8220;There&#8217;s a train at five-thirty-six.&#8221;</p>
+<p>And, say, to see Mrs. Truckles now, with her
+gray hair showin&#8217; natural, and her chin up, and
+a twin hangin&#8217; to either hand, and the sleuthy
+look gone out of them old eyes, you&#8217;d hardly
+know her for the same party!</p>
+<p>These antelope leaps is all right sometimes;
+but when you take &#8217;em you want to be wearin&#8217;
+your own shoes.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XIII_HEINEY_TAKES_THE_GLOOM_CURE' id='XIII_HEINEY_TAKES_THE_GLOOM_CURE'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+<h3>HEINEY TAKES THE GLOOM CURE</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Two in one day, mind you. It just goes to
+show what effect the first dose of hot weather
+is liable to have on the custard heads. Well,
+maybe I oughtn&#8217;t to call &#8217;em that, either. They
+can&#8217;t seem to help gettin&#8217; that way, any more&#8217;n
+other folks can dodge havin&#8217; bad dreams, or
+boils on the neck. And I ain&#8217;t any mind specialist;
+so when it comes to sayin&#8217; what&#8217;ll soften
+up a man&#8217;s brain, or whether he couldn&#8217;t sidestep
+it if he tried, I passes the make.</p>
+<p>Now look at this dippy move of Mr. Jarvis&#8217;s.
+Guess you don&#8217;t remember him. I&#8217;d
+&#8217;most forgot him myself, it&#8217;s so long since he
+was around; but he&#8217;s the young chap that owns
+that big Blenmont place, the gent that Swifty
+and I helped out with the fake match when
+he&mdash;&mdash;Well, never mind that yarn. He got
+the girl, all right; and as he had everything else
+anybody could think of, it should have been a
+case of lockin&#8217; trouble on the outside and takin&#8217;
+joy for a permanent boarder.</p>
+<p>But there the other mornin&#8217;, just as I was
+havin&#8217; a breathin&#8217; spell after hammerin&#8217; some
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span>
+surplus ego out of a young society sport that
+had the idea he could box, the studio door opens,
+and in pokes this Mr. Jarvis, actin&#8217; like he&#8217;d
+been doped.</p>
+<p>Now he&#8217;s a big, husky, full blooded young
+gent, that&#8217;s always used himself well, never collected
+any bad habits, and knows no more about
+being sick than a cat knows about swimmin&#8217;.
+Add to that the fact that he&#8217;s one of the unemployed
+rich, with more money than he knows
+how to spend, and you can figure out how surprised
+I am to see that down and out look on
+his face. Course, I thinks something serious
+has been happenin&#8217; to him, and I treats him real
+gentle.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello, Mr. Jarvis!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Somebody
+been throwin&#8217; the hooks into you, have they?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no,&#8221; says he. &#8220;No, I&mdash;I&#8217;m all right.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s good,&#8221; says I. &#8220;Dropped in to let
+me hand you a few vibrations with the mitts?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, thank you, Shorty,&#8221; says he, fingerin&#8217;
+a chair-back sort of hesitatin&#8217;, as if he didn&#8217;t
+know whether to sit down or stand up. &#8220;That
+is&mdash;er&mdash;I think I don&#8217;t care for a bout to-day.
+I&mdash;I&#8217;m hardly in the mood, you see.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just as you say,&#8221; says I. &#8220;Have a seat,
+anyway. Sure! That one; it&#8217;s reserved for
+you. Maybe you come in to enjoy some of my
+polite and refined conversation?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why&mdash;er&mdash;the fact is, Shorty,&#8221; says he,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span>
+fixin&#8217; his tie kind of nervous, &#8220;I&mdash;I don&#8217;t know
+just why I did come in. I think I started for
+the club, and as I was passing by in a cab I
+looked up here at your windows&mdash;and&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course,&#8221; says I, soothin&#8217;. &#8220;What&#8217;s the
+use goin&#8217; to the club when the Physical Culture
+Studio is handier? You&#8217;re feelin&#8217; fine as silk;
+how&#8217;re you lookin&#8217;?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eh? Beg pardon?&#8221; says he, gettin&#8217; twisted
+up on that mothy gag. &#8220;Oh, I see! I&#8217;m looking
+rotten, thank you, and feeling the same.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;G&#8217;wan!&#8221; says I. &#8220;You ain&#8217;t got any license
+to have feelin&#8217;s like that. Guess you got
+the symptoms mixed. But where do you think
+it hurts most?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Well, it takes five or ten minutes of jollyin&#8217;
+like that to pull any details at all out of Jarvis,
+and when I does get the whole heartrendin&#8217;
+story, I hardly knows whether to give him the
+laugh, or to send out for a nursin&#8217; bottle.</p>
+<p>Ever seen a great, grown man play the baby
+act? Talk about a woman in a cryin&#8217; spell!
+That ain&#8217;t a marker to watchin&#8217; a six-foot, one
+hundred and eighty-pound free citizen droop
+his mouth corners and slump his shoulders over
+nothin&#8217; at all. Course, I don&#8217;t always feel like
+a hickey boy myself, and I&#8217;ll admit there are
+times when the rosy tints get a little clouded up;
+but I has my own way of workin&#8217; out of such
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span>
+spells before the mullygrubs turns my gray matter
+into curdled milk. But Jarvis, he&#8217;s as blue
+as a rainy Monday with the wash all in
+soak.</p>
+<p>In the first place, he&#8217;s been alone for nearly
+three whole weeks, the women folks all bein&#8217;
+abroad, and it&#8217;s a new experience for him.
+Think of that awful calamity happenin&#8217; to a
+man of his size! Seems that before he was
+married he&#8217;d always carted mother and sister
+around, under the idea that he was lookin&#8217; out
+for them, when as a matter of fact they was
+the ones that was lookin&#8217; after him. Then Mrs.
+Jarvis, Lady Evelyn that was, takes him in
+hand and makes him more helpless than ever.
+He never mistrusts how much he&#8217;s been mollycoddled,
+until he finds himself with nobody but
+a valet, a housekeeper, and seventeen assorted
+servants to help him along in the struggle for
+existence.</p>
+<p>His first move after the ladies have sailed
+is to smoke until his tongue feels like a pussycat&#8217;s
+back, eat his lonesome meals at lunch-counter
+clip, and work himself into a mild bilious
+state. That makes him a little cranky with
+the help, and, as there&#8217;s no one around to smooth
+&#8217;em out, the cook and half a dozen maids leaves
+in a bunch. His head coachman goes off on a
+bat, the housekeeper skips out to Ohio to bury
+an aunt, and the domestic gear at Blenmont gets
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span>
+to runnin&#8217; about as smooth as a flat wheel trolley
+car on a new roadbed.</p>
+<p>To finish off the horrible situation, Jarvis has
+had a misunderstandin&#8217; with a landscape architect
+that he&#8217;d engaged to do things to the
+grounds. Jarvis had planned to plant a swan
+lake in the front yard; but the landscaper points
+out that it can&#8217;t be done because there&#8217;s a hill
+in the way.</p>
+<p>&#8220;To be sure,&#8221; says Jarvis, &#8220;these are little
+things; but I&#8217;ve been worrying over them
+until&mdash;until&mdash;&mdash; Well, I&#8217;m in bad shape,
+Shorty.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a wonder you&#8217;re still alive,&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t!&#8221; says he, groanin&#8217;. &#8220;It is too serious
+a matter. Perhaps you don&#8217;t know it, but
+I had an uncle that drank himself to death.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Huh!&#8221; says I. &#8220;&#8217;Most everybody has had
+an uncle of that kind.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And one of my cousins,&#8221; Jarvis goes on,
+lowerin&#8217; his voice and lookin&#8217; around cautious,
+&#8220;shot himself&mdash;in the head!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eh?&#8221; says I. And then I begun to get a
+glimmer of what he was drivin&#8217; at. &#8220;What!
+You don&#8217;t mean that you were thinkin&#8217; of&mdash;of&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>He groans again and nods his head.</p>
+<p>Then I cuts loose. &#8220;Why, look here!&#8221; says
+I. &#8220;You soft boiled, mush headed, spineless
+imitation of a real man! do you mean to tell
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span>
+me that, just because you&#8217;ve been tied loose
+from a few skirts for a week or so, and have
+had to deal with some grouchy hired hands,
+you&#8217;ve actually gone jelly brained over it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Perhaps that don&#8217;t make him squirm some,
+though! He turns white first, and then he gets
+the hectic flush. &#8220;Pardon me, McCabe,&#8221; says
+he, stiffenin&#8217; up, &#8220;but I don&#8217;t care to have anyone
+talk to me like&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, pickles!&#8221; says I. &#8220;I&#8217;ll talk to you
+a good deal straighter&#8217;n that, before I finish!
+And you&#8217;ll take it, too! Why, you great, overgrown
+kid! what right have you developin&#8217; such
+a yellow cur streak as that? You! What you
+need is to be laid over that chair and paddled,
+and blamed if I don&#8217;t know but I&#8217;d better&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>But just here the door creaks, and in drifts
+the other one. Hanged if I ever did know what
+his real name was. I called him Heiney Kirschwasser
+for short, though he says he ain&#8217;t Dutch
+at all, but Swiss-French; and that it ain&#8217;t kirsch
+that&#8217;s his failin&#8217;, but prune brandy. He&#8217;s the
+mop and broom artist for the buildin&#8217;, some
+floater the janitor picked up off the sidewalk
+a few months back.</p>
+<p>He wa&#8217;n&#8217;t exactly a decorative object, this
+Heiney; but he&#8217;s kind of a picturesque ruin.
+His widest part is around the belt; and from
+there he tapers both ways, his shoulders bein&#8217;
+a good eight inches narrower; and on top of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span>
+them, with no neck to speak of, is a head shaped
+like a gum drop, bald on top, and remindin&#8217; you
+of them mountain peaks you see in pictures, or
+a ham set on end.</p>
+<p>He has a pair of stary, pop eyes, a high colored
+beak that might be used as a danger signal,
+and a black, shoebrush beard, trimmed close except
+for a little spike under the chin, that
+gives the lower part of his face a look like
+the ace of spades. His mornin&#8217; costume is a
+faded blue jumper, brown checked pants, and
+an old pair of rubber soled shoes that Swifty
+had donated to him.</p>
+<p>That&#8217;s Heiney&#8217;s description, as near as I can
+get to it. He comes shufflin&#8217; in, luggin&#8217; a scrub
+pail in one hand, and draggin&#8217; a mop in the
+other, and he looks about as cheerful as a worn-out
+hearse that&#8217;s been turned into an ash wagon.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Heiney,&#8221; says I, &#8220;you&#8217;re just in time. Still
+lookin&#8217; for a nice, comfortable place to die in,
+are you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Heiney shrugs his shoulders and lifts his eyebrows
+in a lifeless sort of style. He does most
+of his conversin&#8217; that way; but he can say more
+with a few shrugs than Swifty Joe can by usin&#8217;
+both sides of his mouth. What Heiney means
+is that one place is as good as another, and he
+don&#8217;t care how soon he finds it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, cheer up, Heiney,&#8221; says I; &#8220;for I&#8217;ve
+just decided to give you the use of my back
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span>
+room to shuffle off in. I&#8217;ve got comp&#8217;ny for
+you, too. Here&#8217;s a friend of mine that feels
+the same way you do. Mr. Jarvis, Mr. Heiney
+Kirschwasser.&#8221;</p>
+<p>And you should have seen the look of disgust
+on Jarvis&#8217;s face as he sizes up the specimen.
+&#8220;Oh, I say now, Shorty,&#8221; he begins, &#8220;there&#8217;s
+such a thing as&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;G&#8217;wan!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Wa&#8217;n&#8217;t you just tellin&#8217;
+me about how you was plannin&#8217; a job for the
+coroner? And Heiney&#8217;s been threatenin&#8217; to do
+the same thing for weeks. He comes in here
+every day or so and talks about jumpin&#8217; off
+the dock, or doin&#8217; the air dance. I&#8217;ve been
+stavin&#8217; him off with slugs of prune brandy and
+doses of good advice; but if a chap like you
+has caught the fever, then I see I&#8217;ve been doin&#8217;
+wrong not to let Heiney have his way. Now
+there&#8217;s the back room, with plenty of rope and
+gasjets. Get on in there, both of you, and make
+a reg&#8217;lar bee of it!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Heiney, he stands blinkin&#8217; and starin&#8217; at Jarvis,
+until he gets him so nervous he almost
+screams.</p>
+<p>&#8220;For Heaven&#8217;s sake, Shorty,&#8221; says Jarvis,
+&#8220;let&#8217;s not joke about such a subject!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Joke!&#8221; says I. &#8220;You&#8217;re the one that&#8217;s
+supplyin&#8217; the comedy here. Now Heiney is serious.
+He&#8217;d do the trick in a minute if he had
+the nerve. He&#8217;s got things on his mind, Heiney
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span>
+has. And what&#8217;s the odds if they ain&#8217;t so?
+Compared to what you&#8217;ve been fussin&#8217; about,
+they&#8217;re&mdash;&mdash;Here, Heiney, you tell the gentleman
+that tale of yours. Begin where you was
+a cook in some seashore hotel in Switzerland.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not zeashore! <i>Non</i>!&#8221; says Heiney, droppin&#8217;
+his pail and wavin&#8217; one hand. &#8220;Eet ees
+at Lack Como, in ze montongs. I am ze head
+chef, <i>moi!</i>&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, you look it!&#8221; says I. &#8220;A fine figure
+of a chef you&#8217;d make! wouldn&#8217;t you? Well, go
+on: about bein&#8217; full of prunes when they called
+on you to season the soup. What was it you
+dumped in instead of salt,&mdash;arsenic, eh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Non, non!</i>&#8221; says Heiney, gettin&#8217; excited.
+&#8220;Ze poison for ze r-r-rat. I keep heem in one
+tin can, same as ze salt. I am what you call
+intoxicate. I make ze mistak&#8217;. Ah, <i>diable!
+Deux, trois</i>&mdash;t&#8217;ree hundred guests are zere. Zey
+eat ze soup. Zen come by me ze <i>maître d&#8217;hôtel.</i>
+He say ze soup ees spoil. Eet has ze foony taste.
+Ah, mon <i>Dieu! Mon</i>&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, yes,&#8221; says I. &#8220;Never mind whether
+it was Monday or Tuesday. What did you do
+then?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Moi</i>? I fly!&#8221; says Heiney. &#8220;I am distract.
+I r-r-r-run on ze r-r-r-road. I tear-r-r off
+my white apron, my white chapeau. Ah, <i>sacr-r-ré
+nom!</i> How my heart is thoomp, thoomp, on
+my inside! All night I speak to myself: &#8216;You
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span>
+have keel zem all! Ze <i>belle</i> ladies! Ze <i>pauvre</i>
+shildren! All, you have poi-zon-ed! Zey make
+to tweest up on ze floor!&#8217; Ah, <i>diable</i>! Always
+I can see zem tweest up!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Reg&#8217;lar rough on rats carnival, eh?&#8221; says
+I. &#8220;Three hundred beautiful ladies and poor
+children, not to mention a few men, doin&#8217; the
+agony act on the dinin&#8217; room floor! There, Jarvis!
+How&#8217;d you like to carry round a movin&#8217;
+picture film like that in your mem&#8217;ry? Course,
+I&#8217;ve tried to explain to Heiney that nothing of
+the kind ever took place; that the papers would
+have been full of it; and that he&#8217;d been in the
+jug long before this, if it had. But this is
+Heiney&#8217;s own particular pipe dream, and he
+can&#8217;t let go of it. It&#8217;s got tangled up in the
+works somehow, and nothing I can say will jar
+it loose. Poor cuss! Look at him! No doubt
+about its seemin&#8217; real to him, is there? And
+how does your little collection of fleabites show
+up alongside it; eh, Jarvis?&#8221;</p>
+<p>But Jarvis, he&#8217;s gazin&#8217; at Heiney as if this
+lump of moldy sweitzerkase was fascinatin&#8217; to
+look at.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I beg pardon,&#8221; says he, &#8220;but you say this
+hotel was at Lake Como?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Heiney nods his head, then covers his face
+with his hands, as if he was seein&#8217; things again.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And what was the date of this&mdash;this unfortunate
+occurrence?&#8221; says Jarvis.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Year before the last, in Augoost,&#8221; says
+Heiney, shudderin&#8217;,&mdash;&#8220;Augoost seven.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The seventh of August!&#8221; says Jarvis.
+&#8220;And was your hotel the Occident?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Oui, oui</i>!&#8221; says Heiney. &#8220;<i>L&#8217;Hôtel Occident</i>.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Guess he means Accident,&#8221; says I. &#8220;What
+do you know about it, Jarvis?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why,&#8221; says he, &#8220;I was there.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What?&#8221; says I. &#8220;Here, Heiney, wake up!
+Here&#8217;s one of the victims of your rat poison
+soup. Does he look as though he&#8217;d been through
+that floor tweestin&#8217; orgy?&#8221;</p>
+<p>With that Heiney gets mighty interested; but
+he ain&#8217;t convinced until Jarvis gives him all
+the details, even to namin&#8217; the landlord and describin&#8217;
+the head waiter.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But ze soup!&#8221; says Heiney. &#8220;Ze poi-zon-ed
+soup?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It was bad soup,&#8221; says Jarvis; &#8220;but not
+quite so bad as that. Nobody could eat it, and
+I believe the final report that we had on the
+subject was to the effect that a half intoxicated
+chef had seasoned it with the powdered alum
+that should have gone into the morning rolls.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ze alum! Ze alum! Of zat I nevair think!&#8221;
+squeals Heiney, flopping down on his knees.
+&#8220;Ah, <i>le bon Dieu! Le bon Dieu</i>!&#8221;</p>
+<p>He clasps his hands in front of him and rolls
+his eyes to the ceilin&#8217;. Say, it was the liveliest
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span>
+French prayin&#8217; I ever saw; for Heiney is rockin&#8217;
+back and forth, his pop eyes leakin&#8217; brine, and
+the polly-voo conversation is bubblin&#8217; out of
+him like water out of a bu&#8217;sted fire hydrant.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, quit it!&#8221; says I. &#8220;This is no camp
+meetin&#8217;.&#8221;</p>
+<p>There&#8217;s no shuttin&#8217; him off, though, and all
+the let-up he takes is to break off now and then
+to get Jarvis to tell him once more that it&#8217;s
+all true.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You make <i>certainement</i>, eh?&#8221; says he.
+&#8220;Nobody was keel?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not a soul,&#8221; says Jarvis. &#8220;I didn&#8217;t even
+hear of anyone that was made ill.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, <i>merci, merci</i>!&#8221; howls Heiney, beginnin&#8217;
+the rockin&#8217; horse act again.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Say, for the love of Pete, Heiney!&#8221; says
+I, &#8220;will you saw that off before you draw a
+crowd? I&#8217;m glad you believe Jarvis, and that
+Jarvis believes you; but hanged if I can quite
+swallow any such dopy yarn as that without
+somethin&#8217; more convincin&#8217;! All I know about
+you is that you&#8217;re the worst floor scrubber I
+ever saw. And you say you was a cook, do
+you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cook!&#8221; says Heiney, swellin&#8217; up his chest.
+&#8220;I am tell you zat I was ze premier chef. I
+have made for myself fame. Everywhere in
+<i>l&#8217;Europe</i> zey will tell you of me. For the king
+of ze Englise I have made a dinner. <i>Moi!</i> I
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span>
+have invent ze sauce Ravignon. From nozzing
+at all&mdash;some meat scraps, some leetle greens&mdash;I
+produce ze dish ravishment.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I&#8217;ve heard bluffs like that before,&#8221;
+says I; &#8220;but I never saw one made good. Tell
+you what I&#8217;ll do, though: In the far corner of
+the gym, there, is what Swifty Joe calls his
+kitchenet, where he warms up his chowder and
+beans. There&#8217;s a two-burner gas stove, an old
+fryin&#8217; pan, and a coffee pot. Now here&#8217;s a dollar.
+You take that out on Sixth-ave. and spend
+it for meat scraps and leetle greens. Then you
+come back here, and while Jarvis and I are
+takin&#8217; a little exercise, if you can hash up anything
+that&#8217;s fit to eat, I&#8217;ll believe your whole
+yarn. Do you make the try?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Does he? Say, you never saw such a tickled
+Frenchy in your life. Before Jarvis and me
+had got nicely peeled down for our delayed
+boxin&#8217; bout, Heiney is back with his bundles,
+has got the fryin&#8217; pan scoured, the gas blazin&#8217;,
+and is throwin&#8217; things together like a juggler
+doin&#8217; a stage turn.</p>
+<p>He sheds the blue jumper, ties a bath towel
+around him for an apron, makes a hat out of
+a paper bag, and twists some of that stringy
+lip decoration of his into a pointed mustache.
+Honest, he didn&#8217;t look nor act any more like
+the wreck that had dragged the mop in there
+half an hour before than I look like Bill Taft.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span>
+And by the time we&#8217;ve had our three rounds
+and a rub down, he&#8217;s standin&#8217; doubled up beside
+a little table that he&#8217;s found, with his arms
+spread out like he was goin&#8217; to take a dive.</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Messieurs</i>,&#8221; says he, &#8220;eet ees serve.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good!&#8221; says I. &#8220;I&#8217;m just about up to
+tacklin&#8217; a hot lunch. What kind of a mess have
+you got here, anyway, Heiney? Any alum in
+it? Blamed if I don&#8217;t make you put away the
+whole shootin&#8217; match if it ain&#8217;t good!&#8221;</p>
+<p>How&#8217;s that? Well, say, I couldn&#8217;t name it, or
+say whether it was a stew, fry or an omelet, but
+for an impromptu sample of fancy grub it was
+a little the tastiest article I ever stacked up
+against.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why!&#8221; says Jarvis, smackin&#8217; his lips after
+the third forkful. &#8220;It&#8217;s <i>ris de veau</i>, isn&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But yes, monsieur!&#8221; says Heiney, his face
+lightin&#8217; up. &#8220;Eet ees <i>ris de veau grillé, à la
+financier</i>.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And what&#8217;s that in English?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;In Englise,&#8221; says Heiney, shruggin&#8217; his
+shoulders, &#8220;eet ees not exist. Eet ees Parisienne.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Bully for Paris, then!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Whatever
+it might be if it could be naturalized, it
+touches the spot. I take it all back, Heiney.
+You&#8217;re the shiftiest chef that ever juggled a
+fryin&#8217; pan. A refill on the riddy-voo, seal-voo-plate.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span></p>
+<p>Well, what do you guess! Jarvis engages
+Heiney on the spot, and an hour later they&#8217;ve
+started for Blenmont, both of &#8217;em actin&#8217; like
+they thought this was a good world to live in,
+after all.</p>
+<p>Yesterday me and Sadie accepts a special invite
+out there to dinner; and it was worth goin&#8217;
+out to get. From start to finish it was the finest
+that ever happened. Afterwards Jarvis has
+Heiney come up from the kitchen and show himself
+while we drinks his good health. And say,
+in his white togs and starched linen cap, he&#8217;s
+got the chef on the canned goods ads. lookin&#8217;
+like a hash rustler in a beanery.</p>
+<p>As for Jarvis, he&#8217;s got the pink back in his
+cheeks, and is holdin&#8217; his chin up once more,
+and when we left in the mornin&#8217; he was out
+bossin&#8217; a couple of hundred lab&#8217;rers that was
+takin&#8217; that hill in wheelbarrows and cartin&#8217; it
+off where it wouldn&#8217;t interfere with the lake.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Shorty,&#8221; says he, &#8220;I don&#8217;t know how you
+did it, but you&#8217;ve made me a sane man again,
+and I owe you more than&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, chuck it!&#8221; says I. &#8220;It was curin&#8217;
+Heiney that cured you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Really?&#8221; says he. &#8220;Then you are a believer
+in homeopathic psychotherapeutics?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Which?&#8221; says I. &#8220;Say, write that down
+on my cuff by syllables, will you? I want to
+spring it on Swifty Joe.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XIV_A_TRYOUT_FOR_TOODLEISM' id='XIV_A_TRYOUT_FOR_TOODLEISM'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+<h3>A TRY-OUT FOR TOODLEISM</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Eh? Yes, maybe I do walk a little stiff
+jointed; but, say, I&#8217;m satisfied to be walkin&#8217;
+around at all. If I hadn&#8217;t had my luck with
+me the other day, I&#8217;d be wearin&#8217; that left leg
+in splints and bein&#8217; pushed around in a wheel
+chair. As it is, the meat is only a little sore,
+and a few more alcohol rubs will put it in
+shape.</p>
+<p>What was it come so near gettin&#8217; me on the
+disabled list? Toodleism! No, I expect you
+didn&#8217;t; but let me put you next, son: there&#8217;s
+more &#8217;isms and &#8217;pathys and &#8217;ists floatin&#8217; around
+these days, than any one head can keep track of.
+I don&#8217;t know much about the lot; but this Toodleism&#8217;s
+a punk proposition. Besides leavin&#8217;
+me with a game prop, it come near bu&#8217;stin&#8217; up
+the fam&#8217;ly.</p>
+<p>Seems like trouble was lookin&#8217; for me last
+week, anyway. First off, I has a run of old
+timers, that panhandles me out of all the loose
+coin I has in my clothes. You know how they&#8217;ll
+come in streaks that way, sometimes? Why, I
+was thinkin&#8217; of havin&#8217; &#8217;em form a line, one
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215' name='page_215'></a>215</span>
+while. Then along about Thursday one of my
+back fletchers develops a case of jumps. What&#8217;s
+a fletcher? Why, a steak grinder, and this one
+has a ripe spot in it. Course, it&#8217;s me for the
+nickel plated plush chair, with the footrest and
+runnin&#8217; water attached; and after the tooth
+doctor has explored my jaw with a rock drill
+and a few other cute little tools, he says he&#8217;ll
+kill the nerve.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t, Doc.!&#8221; says I. &#8220;That nerve&#8217;s always
+been a friend of mine until lately.
+Wouldn&#8217;t dopin&#8217; it do?&#8221;</p>
+<p>He says it wouldn&#8217;t, that nothin&#8217; less&#8217;n capital
+punishment would reform a nerve like that;
+so I tells him to blaze away. No use goin&#8217; into
+details. Guess you&#8217;ve been there.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Say, Doc.,&#8221; says I once when he was fittin&#8217;
+a fresh auger into the machine, &#8220;you ain&#8217;t mistakin&#8217;
+me for the guilty party, are you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did I hurt?&#8221; says he.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t call that ticklin&#8217;, do you?&#8221;
+says I.</p>
+<p>But he only grins and goes on with the excavation.
+After he&#8217;s blasted out a hole big enough
+for a terminal tunnel he jabs in a hunk of cotton
+soaked with sulphuric acid, and then tamps
+down the concrete.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There!&#8221; says he, handin&#8217; me a drug store
+drink flavored with formaldehyde. &#8220;In the
+course of forty-eight hours or so that nerve will
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216' name='page_216'></a>216</span>
+be as dead as a piece of string. Meantime it
+may throb at intervals.&#8221;</p>
+<p>That&#8217;s what it did, too! It dies as hard as
+a campaign lie. About every so often, just when
+I&#8217;m forgettin&#8217;, it wakes up again, takes a fresh
+hold, and proceeds to give an imitation of a
+live wire on an alternatin&#8217; circuit.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ahr chee!&#8221; says Swifty Joe. &#8220;To look
+at the map of woe you&#8217;re carryin&#8217; around, you&#8217;d
+think nobody ever had a bum tusk before.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nobody ever had this one before,&#8221; says I,
+&#8220;and the way I look now ain&#8217;t chronic, like
+some faces I know of.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ahr chee!&#8221; says Swifty, which is his way
+of bringin&#8217; in a minority report.</p>
+<p>The worst of it was, though, I&#8217;m billed to
+show up at Rockywold for a May party that
+Sadie and Mrs. Purdy-Pell was pullin&#8217; off, and
+when I lands there Friday afternoon the jaw
+sensations was still on the job. I&#8217;m feeling
+about as cheerful and chatty as a Zoo tiger with
+ingrowin&#8217; toenails. So, after I&#8217;ve done the polite
+handshake, and had a word with Sadie on
+the fly, I digs out my exercise uniform and
+makes a sneak down into their dinky little gym.,
+where there&#8217;s a first class punchin&#8217; bag that I
+picked out for Purdy-Pell myself.</p>
+<p>You know, I felt like I wanted to hit something,
+and hit hard. It wa&#8217;n&#8217;t any idle impulse,
+either. That tooth was jumpin&#8217; so I could almost
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217' name='page_217'></a>217</span>
+feel my heels leave the floor, and I had
+emotions that it would take more than language
+to express proper. So I peels off for it, down
+to a sleeveless jersey and a pair of flannel pants,
+and starts in to drum out the devil&#8217;s tattoo on
+that pigskin bag.</p>
+<p>I was so busy relievin&#8217; my feelin&#8217;s that I
+didn&#8217;t notice anything float in the door; but
+after awhile I looks up and discovers the audience.
+She&#8217;s a young female party that I didn&#8217;t
+remember havin&#8217; seen before at any of the
+Rockywold doin&#8217;s; but it looks like she&#8217;s one of
+the guests, all right.</p>
+<p>Well, I hadn&#8217;t been introduced, and I couldn&#8217;t
+see what she was buttin&#8217; into the gym. for, anyway,
+so I keeps right on punchin&#8217; the bag;
+thinkin&#8217; that if she was shocked any by my
+costume she&#8217;d either get over it, or beat it and
+have a fit.</p>
+<p>She&#8217;s one of the kind you might expect &#8217;most
+anything from,&mdash;one of these long, limp, loppy,
+droop eyed fluffs, with terracotta hair, and a
+prunes-and-prisms mouth all puckered to say
+something soulful. She&#8217;s wearin&#8217; a whackin&#8217;
+big black feather lid with a long plume trailin&#8217;
+down over one ear, a strawb&#8217;ry pink dress cut
+accordin&#8217; to Louis Catorz designs,&mdash;waist band
+under her armpits, you know,&mdash;and nineteen-button
+length gloves. Finish that off with a
+white hen feather boa, have her hands clasped
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218' name='page_218'></a>218</span>
+real shy under her chin, and you&#8217;ve got a picture
+of what I sees there in the door. But it
+was the friendly size-up she was givin&#8217; me, and
+no mistake. She must have hung up there three
+or four minutes too, before she quits, without
+sayin&#8217; a word.</p>
+<p>At the end of half an hour I was feelin&#8217; some
+better; but when I&#8217;d got into my tailor made, I
+didn&#8217;t have any great enthusiasm for tacklin&#8217;
+food.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Guess I&#8217;ll appoint this a special fast day
+for mine,&#8221; says I to Sadie.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, Shorty!&#8221; says she. &#8220;Whatever is
+the matter?&#8221; And she has no sooner heard
+about the touchy tusk than she says, &#8220;Oh, pooh!
+Just say there isn&#8217;t any such thing as toothache.
+Pain, you know, is only a false mental
+photograph, an error of the mind, and&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, back up, Sadie!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Do you
+dream I don&#8217;t know whether this jump is in
+my brain or my jaw? This is no halftone; it&#8217;s
+the real thing.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nonsense!&#8221; says she. &#8220;You come right
+downstairs and see Dr. Toodle. He&#8217;ll fix it in
+no time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Seems this Toodle was the one the party had
+been arranged for, and Sadie has to hunt him
+up. It didn&#8217;t take long to trail him down; for
+pretty soon she comes towin&#8217; him into the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219' name='page_219'></a>219</span>
+drawin&#8217;-room, where I&#8217;m camped down on a
+sofa, holdin&#8217; on with both hands.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dr. Toodle,&#8221; says she, &#8220;I want to present
+Mr. McCabe.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Now, I don&#8217;t claim any seventh-son powers;
+but I only has to take one look at Toodle to
+guess that he&#8217;s some sort of a phony article.
+No reg&#8217;lar pill distributor would wear around
+that mushy look that he has on. He&#8217;s a good
+sized, wide shouldered duck, with a thick crop
+of long hair that just clears his coat collar, and
+one of these smooth, soft, sentimental faces the
+women folks go nutty over,&mdash;you know, big nose,
+heavy chin, and sagged mouth corners. His
+get-up is something between a priest&#8217;s and an
+actor&#8217;s,&mdash;frock coat, smooth front black vest,
+and a collar buttoned behind. He gurgles out
+that he&#8217;s charmed to meet Mr. McCabe, and
+wants to know what&#8217;s wrong.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothin&#8217; but a specked tooth,&#8221; says I. &#8220;But
+I can stand it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My de-e-ear brother,&#8221; says Toodle, puttin&#8217;
+his fingers together and gazin&#8217; down at me like
+a prison chaplain givin&#8217; a talk to murderers&#8217;
+row, &#8220;you are possessed of mental error. Your
+brain focus has been disturbed, and a blurred
+image has been cast on the sensitive retina of
+the&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, say, Doc.,&#8221; says I, &#8220;cut out the preamble!
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220' name='page_220'></a>220</span>
+If you&#8217;ve got a cocaine gun in your
+pocket, dig it up!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Then he goes off again with another string
+of gibberish, about pain bein&#8217; nothin&#8217; but
+thought, and thought bein&#8217; something we could
+steer to suit ourselves. I can&#8217;t give you the
+patter word for word; but the nub of it was that
+I could knock that toothache out in one round
+just by thinkin&#8217; hard. Now wouldn&#8217;t that peeve
+you? What?</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right, Doc.,&#8221; says I. &#8220;I&#8217;ll try thinkin&#8217;
+I ain&#8217;t got any ache, if you&#8217;ll sit here and keep
+me comp&#8217;ny by thinkin&#8217; you&#8217;ve had your dinner.
+Is it a go?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Well, it wa&#8217;n&#8217;t. He shrugs his shoulders, and
+says he&#8217;s afraid I&#8217;m a difficult subject, and then
+he teeters off on his toes. Sadie tells me I ought
+to be ashamed of myself for tryin&#8217; to be so
+fresh.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s a very distinguished man,&#8221; she says.
+&#8220;He&#8217;s the founder of Toodleism. He&#8217;s written
+a book about it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I thought he looked like a nutty one,&#8221; says
+I. &#8220;Keep him away from me; I&#8217;ll be all right
+by mornin&#8217;.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The argument might have lasted longer; but
+just then comes the dinner call, and they all goes
+in where the little necks was waitin&#8217; on the
+cracked ice, and I&#8217;m left alone to count the
+jumps and enjoy myself. Durin&#8217; one of the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span>
+calm spells I wanders into the lib&#8217;ry, picks a
+funny paper off the table, and settles down in
+a cozy corner to read the jokes. I must have
+been there near an hour, when in drifts the
+loppy young lady in the pink what-d&#8217;ye-call-it,&mdash;the
+one I&#8217;d made the silent hit with in the gym.,&mdash;and
+she makes straight for me.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, here you are!&#8221; says she, like we was
+old friends. &#8220;Do you know, I&#8217;ve just heard of
+your&mdash;your trouble.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, it ain&#8217;t any killin&#8217; matter,&#8221; says I. &#8220;It
+don&#8217;t amount to much.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course it doesn&#8217;t!&#8221; says she. &#8220;And
+that is what I came to talk to you about. I am
+Miss Lee,&mdash;Violet Lee.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ye-e-es?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You see,&#8221; she goes on, &#8220;I am Dr. Toodle&#8217;s
+secretary and assistant.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; says I. &#8220;He&#8217;s in luck, then.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now, now!&#8221; says she, just like that, givin&#8217;
+me a real giddy tap with her fan. &#8220;You must
+be real serious.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m in condition to be all of that,&#8221; says
+I. &#8220;Are you plannin&#8217; to try the&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am going to help you to banish the imaginary
+pains, Mr. McCabe,&#8221; says she. &#8220;Now
+first you must repeat after me the <i>summum
+bonum</i>.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eh?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s very simple,&#8221; says she, floppin&#8217; down
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222' name='page_222'></a>222</span>
+on the cushions alongside and reachin&#8217; out for
+one of my hands. &#8220;It begins this way, &#8216;I am
+a child of light and goodness.&#8217; Now say that.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Say, how would you duck a proposition of
+that kind? There was Violet, with her big eyes
+rolled at me real pleadin&#8217;, and her mouth puckered
+up real cunning, and the soft, clingin&#8217; grip
+on my right paw. Well, I says it over.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s it!&#8221; she purrs. &#8220;Now, &#8216;Evil and
+fear and pain are the creatures of darkness.&#8217;
+Go on!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure thing!&#8221; says I. &#8220;&#8216;Evil and fear
+and&mdash;&mdash;Ouch!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Ever feel one of them last gasps that a nerve
+gives when it goes out of business? I thought
+the top of my head was comin&#8217; off. But it
+didn&#8217;t, and a couple of seconds later I knew the
+jumpin&#8217; was all over; so I straightens my face
+out, and we proceeds with the catechism.</p>
+<p>It was a bird, too. I didn&#8217;t mind doin&#8217; it
+at all with Miss Lee there to help; for, in spite
+of her loppy ways, she&#8217;s more or less of a candy
+girl. There was a good deal to it, and it all
+means the same as what Toodle was tryin&#8217; to
+hand out; but now that the ache has quit I&#8217;m
+ready for any kind of foolishness.</p>
+<p>Violet had got to the point where she has
+snuggled up nice and close, with one hand still
+grippin&#8217; mine and the other smoothin&#8217; out my
+jaw while she told me again how pain was only a
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223' name='page_223'></a>223</span>
+pipe dream,&mdash;when I glances over her shoulder
+and sees Sadie floatin&#8217; in hangin&#8217; to Dr.
+Toodle&#8217;s arm.</p>
+<p>And does Sadie miss the tableau in our corner?
+Not to any extent! Her eyebrows go up,
+and her mouth comes open. That&#8217;s the first indication.
+Next her lips shut tight, and her eyes
+narrow down, and before you could count three
+she&#8217;s let go of Toodle as if he was a hot potato,
+and she&#8217;s makin&#8217; a bee line for the cozy
+corner.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why!&#8221; says Miss Lee, lookin&#8217; up and forecastin&#8217;
+the comin&#8217; conditions in a flash. &#8220;Is
+dinner over? Oh, and there&#8217;s Dr. Toodle!&#8221; and
+off she trips, leavin&#8217; the McCabe fam&#8217;ly to hold
+a reunion.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I never!&#8221; says Sadie, givin&#8217; me the
+gimlet gaze. And say, she puts plenty of expression
+into them three words.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Me either,&#8221; says I. &#8220;Not very often, anyway.
+But a chance is a chance.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I hope I didn&#8217;t intrude?&#8221; says she, her eyes
+snappin&#8217;.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s no tellin&#8217;,&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It was a very touching scene!&#8221; says she.
+&#8220;Very!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wa&#8217;n&#8217;t it?&#8221; says I. &#8220;Nice girl, Violet.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Violet! Humph!&#8221; says she. &#8220;There&#8217;s no
+accounting for tastes!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just what I was thinkin&#8217; when I see you
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224' name='page_224'></a>224</span>
+with the timelock clutch on that freak doctor&#8217;s
+south wing,&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dr. Toodle,&#8221; says she, &#8220;was explaining to
+me his wonderful self healing theories.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And dear Violet,&#8221; says I, &#8220;was puttin&#8217; me
+through a course of sprouts in the automatic
+toothache cure.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, indeed!&#8221; says Sadie. &#8220;Was patting
+your cheek part of it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I hope so,&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Huh!&#8221; says she. &#8220;I suppose it worked?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Like a charm,&#8221; says I. &#8220;All that bothers
+me now is how I can dig up another pain.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You might have your dear Violet see what
+can be done for that soft spot in your head!&#8221;
+she snaps. &#8220;Only next time take her off out
+of sight, please.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, we&#8217;ll attend to that, all right,&#8221; says I.
+&#8220;This havin&#8217; a green eyed wife buttin&#8217; in just
+at the interestin&#8217; point is something fierce!&#8221;
+And that&#8217;s where I spread it on too thick.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t be a chump, Shorty!&#8221; says Sadie,
+lettin&#8217; loose a sudden giggle and mussin&#8217; my
+hair up with both hands. It&#8217;s a way she has of
+gettin&#8217; out of a corner, and she&#8217;s skipped off before
+I&#8217;m sure whether she&#8217;s still got a grouch,
+or is only lettin&#8217; on.</p>
+<p>By that time my appetite has come back; so
+I holds up the butler and has him lay out a solitaire
+feed. And when I goes back to the crowd
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225' name='page_225'></a>225</span>
+again I finds Toodle has the center of the stage,
+with the spotlight full on him. All the women
+are gathered round, listening to his guff like it
+was sound sense. Seems he&#8217;s organized a new
+deal on the thought cure stunt, and he&#8217;s workin&#8217;
+it for all it&#8217;s worth. The men, though, don&#8217;t
+appear so excited over what he&#8217;s sayin&#8217;.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Confounded rubbish, I call it!&#8221; says Mr.
+Purdy-Pell.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You ought to hear it from Violet,&#8221; says
+I. &#8220;She&#8217;s the star explainer of that combination.&#8221;</p>
+<p>But Violet seems to have faded into the background.
+We don&#8217;t see anything more of her
+that evenin&#8217;, nor she wa&#8217;n&#8217;t in evidence next
+mornin&#8217;. Doc. Toodle was, though. He begins
+by tellin&#8217; how he never takes anything but hot
+water and milk on risin&#8217;; but that in the middle
+of the forenoon he makes it a point to put away
+about three fresh laid eggs, raw, in a glass of
+sherry.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How interesting!&#8221; says Mrs. Purdy-Pell.
+&#8220;Then we must drive over to Fernbrook Farm,
+right after breakfast, and get some of their
+lovely White Leghorn eggs.&#8221;</p>
+<p>That was the sort of excursion I was rung
+into; so the bunch of us piles into the wagonette
+and starts for a fresh supply of hen fruit.
+When we gets to the farm the superintendent
+invites us to take a tour through the incubator
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226' name='page_226'></a>226</span>
+houses, and of course they all wants to see the
+dear little chickies and so on. All but me. I
+stays and chins with the coachman while he
+walks the horses around the driveway.</p>
+<p>In about half an hour they comes troopin&#8217;
+back, Toodle in the lead, luggin&#8217; a paper bag full
+of warm eggs. He don&#8217;t wait for the others,
+but pikes for the wagonette and climbs in one
+of the side seats facin&#8217; me. We was just turnin&#8217;
+to back up to the block for the ladies, when a
+yellow kyoodle dashes around the corner after
+a cat. Them skittish horses was just waitin&#8217;
+for some such excuse as that, and before Mr.
+Driver can put the curb bit on &#8217;em hard enough
+they&#8217;ve done a quick pivot, cramped the wheels,
+and turned us over on the soggy grass as neat
+as anything you ever see.</p>
+<p>Me bein&#8217; on the low side, I strikes the
+ground first; but before I can squirm out, down
+comes Toodle on top, landin&#8217; his one hundred
+and ninety pounds so sudden that it knocks the
+wind clear out of me. He&#8217;s turned over on the
+way down, so I&#8217;ve got his shoulder borin&#8217; into
+my chest and the heavy part of him on my
+leg.</p>
+<p>Course, the women squeals, and the horses cut
+up some; but the driver has landed on his feet
+and has them by the head in no time at all, so
+we wa&#8217;n&#8217;t dragged around any. Noticin&#8217; that, I
+lays still and waits for Toodle to pry himself
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227' name='page_227'></a>227</span>
+loose. But the Doc. don&#8217;t seem in any hurry to
+move, and the next thing I know I hear him
+groanin&#8217; and mumblin&#8217; under his breath. Between
+groans he was tryin&#8217; to say over that rigmarole
+of his.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am a child of light&mdash;Oh, dear me!&mdash;of
+light and goodness!&#8221; he was pantin&#8217; out.
+&#8220;Evil and fear and&mdash;Oh, my poor back!&mdash;and
+pain are creatures of&mdash;Oh my, oh my!&mdash;of darkness!
+Nothing can harm me!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Say, something is goin&#8217; to harm you mighty
+sudden,&#8221; says I, &#8220;if you don&#8217;t let me up out
+of this.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, my life blood!&#8221; he groans. &#8220;I can
+feel my life blood! Oh, oh! I am a child
+of&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, slush!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Get up and shake
+yourself. Think I&#8217;m a bloomin&#8217; prayer rug
+that you can squat on all day? Roll over!&#8221; and
+I manages to hand him a short arm punch in
+the ribs that stirs him up enough so I can slide
+out from under. Soon&#8217;s I get on my feet and
+can hop around once or twice I finds there&#8217;s no
+bones stickin&#8217; through, and then I turns to have
+a look at him.</p>
+<p>And say, I wouldn&#8217;t have missed that exhibition
+for twice the shakin&#8217; up I got! There he
+is, stretched out on the wet turf, his eyelids
+flutterin&#8217;, his breath comin&#8217; fast, and his two
+hands huggin&#8217; tight what&#8217;s left of that bu&#8217;sted
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228' name='page_228'></a>228</span>
+paper bag, right up against the front of his
+preacher&#8217;s vest. And can you guess what&#8217;s happened
+to them eggs?</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, my life blood!&#8221; he keeps on moanin&#8217;.
+&#8220;I can feel it oozing through&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, you&#8217;re switched, Toodle!&#8221; says I.
+&#8220;Your brain kodak is out of register, that&#8217;s all.
+It ain&#8217;t life blood you&#8217;re losin&#8217;; it&#8217;s only your
+new laid omelet that&#8217;s leakin&#8217; over your vest
+front.&#8221;</p>
+<p>About then I gets a squint at Sadie and Mrs.
+Purdy-Pell, and they&#8217;re almost chokin&#8217; to death
+in a funny fit.</p>
+<p>Well, say, that was the finish of Toodleism
+with the Rockywold bunch. The Doc. didn&#8217;t
+have a scratch nor a bruise on him, and after
+he&#8217;d been helped up and scraped off, he was
+almost as good as new. But his conversation
+works is clogged for good, and he has his chin
+down on his collar. They sends him and Violet
+down to catch the next train, and Sadie and Mrs.
+Purdy-Pell spends the rest of the day givin&#8217;
+imitations of how Toodle hugged up the eggs
+and grunted that he was a child of light.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not that I don&#8217;t believe there was something
+in what he said,&#8221; Sadie explains to me
+afterwards; &#8220;only&mdash;only&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Only he was a false alarm, eh?&#8221; says I.
+&#8220;Well, Violet wa&#8217;n&#8217;t that kind, anyway.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229' name='page_229'></a>229</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Pooh!&#8221; says she. &#8220;I suppose you&#8217;ll brag
+about Violet for the rest of your life.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Can you keep &#8217;em guessin&#8217; long, when it comes
+to things of that kind? Not if they&#8217;re like
+Sadie.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XV_THE_CASE_OF_THE_TISCOTTS' id='XV_THE_CASE_OF_THE_TISCOTTS'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230' name='page_230'></a>230</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2>
+<h3>THE CASE OF THE TISCOTTS</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>What I had on the slate for this part&#8217;cular
+afternoon was a brisk walk up Broadway as far
+as the gasoline district and a little soothin&#8217; conversation
+with Mr. Cecil Slattery about the new
+roadster he&#8217;s tryin&#8217; to Paladino me into placin&#8217;
+my order for. I&#8217;d just washed up and was in
+the gym. giving my coat a few licks with the
+whisk broom, when Swifty Joe comes tiptoein&#8217;
+in, taps me on the shoulder, and points solemn
+into the front office.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s right,&#8221; says I, &#8220;break it to me
+gentle.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Get into it quick!&#8221; says he, grabbin&#8217; the
+coat.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eh?&#8221; says I. &#8220;Fire, police, or what?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;S-s-sh!&#8221; says he. &#8220;Lady to see you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What kind,&#8221; says I, &#8220;perfect, or just plain
+lady? And what&#8217;s her name?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ahr-r-r chee!&#8221; he whispers, hoarse and
+stagy. &#8220;Didn&#8217;t I tell you it was a lady? Get
+a move on!&#8221; and he lifts me into the sleeves
+and yanks away the whisk broom.</p>
+<p>&#8220;See here, Swifty,&#8221; says I, &#8220;if this is another
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231' name='page_231'></a>231</span>
+of them hot air demonstrators, or a book
+agent, there&#8217;ll be trouble comin&#8217; your way in
+bunches! Remember, now!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Here was once, though, when Swifty hadn&#8217;t
+made any mistake. Not that he shows such wonderful
+intelligence in this case. With her
+wearin&#8217; all them expensive furs, and the cute
+little English footman standin&#8217; up straight in
+his yellow topped boots over by the door, who
+wouldn&#8217;t have known she was a real lady?</p>
+<p>She&#8217;s got up all in black, not exactly a
+mournin&#8217; costume, but one of these real broadcloth
+regalias, plain but classy. She&#8217;s a tall,
+slim party, and from the three-quarters&#8217; view I
+gets against the light I should guess she was
+goin&#8217; on thirty or a little past it. All she&#8217;s
+armed with is a roll of paper, and as I steps in
+she&#8217;s drummin&#8217; with it on the window sill.</p>
+<p>Course, we has all kinds driftin&#8217; into the
+studio here, by mistake and otherwise, and I
+gen&#8217;rally makes a guess on &#8217;em right; but this
+one don&#8217;t suggest anything at all. Even that
+rat faced tiger of hers could have told her this
+wa&#8217;n&#8217;t any French millinery parlor, and she
+didn&#8217;t look like one who&#8217;d get off the trail anyway.
+So I plays a safety by coughin&#8217; polite behind
+my hand and lettin&#8217; her make the break.
+She ain&#8217;t backward about it, either.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, there you are, Professor McCabe!&#8221;
+says she, in that gushy, up and down tone, like
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232' name='page_232'></a>232</span>
+she was usin&#8217; language as some sort of throat
+gargle. &#8220;How perfectly dear of you to be here,
+too!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, ain&#8217;t it?&#8221; says I. &#8220;I&#8217;ve kind of got
+into the habit of bein&#8217; here.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Really, now!&#8221; says she, smilin&#8217; just as
+though we was carryin&#8217; on a sensible conversation.
+And it&#8217;s a swagger stunt too, this talkin&#8217;
+without sayin&#8217; anything. When you get so you
+can keep it up for an hour you&#8217;re qualified either
+for the afternoon tea class or the batty ward.
+But the lady ain&#8217;t here just to pay a social call.
+She makes a quick shift and announces that
+she&#8217;s Miss Colliver, also hoping that I remember
+her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, sure,&#8221; says I. &#8220;Miss Ann, ain&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>As a matter of fact, the only time we was
+ever within speakin&#8217; distance was once at the
+Purdy-Pells&#8217; when she blew in for a minute just
+at dinner time, lifted a bunch of American Beauties
+off the table with the excuse that they was
+just what she wanted to send to the Blind Asylum,
+and blew out again.</p>
+<p>But of course I couldn&#8217;t help knowin&#8217; who
+she was and all about her. Ain&#8217;t the papers
+always full of her charity doin&#8217;s, her funds for
+this and that, and her new discoveries of
+shockin&#8217; things about the poor? Ain&#8217;t she built
+up a rep as a lady philanthropist that&#8217;s too busy
+doing good to ever get married? Maybe Mrs.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233' name='page_233'></a>233</span>
+Russell Sage and Helen Gould has gained a few
+laps on her lately; but when it comes to startin&#8217;
+things for the Tattered Tenth there ain&#8217;t many
+others that&#8217;s got much on her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gee!&#8221; thinks I. &#8220;Wonder what she&#8217;s
+going to do for me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>I ain&#8217;t left long in doubt. She backs me up
+against the desk and cuts loose with the straight
+talk. &#8220;I came in to tell you about my new
+enterprise, Piny Crest Court,&#8221; says she.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Apartment house, is it?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, no!&#8221; says she. &#8220;Haven&#8217;t you read
+about it? It&#8217;s to be a white plague station for
+working girls.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A white&mdash;white&mdash;&mdash;Oh! For lungers,
+eh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We never speak of them in that way, you
+know,&#8221; says she, handin&#8217; me the reprovin&#8217; look.
+&#8220;Piny Crest Court is the name I&#8217;ve given to
+the site. Rather sweet, is it not? Really there
+are no pines on it, you know; but I shall have
+a few set out. The buildings are to be perfectly
+lovely. I&#8217;ve just seen the architect&#8217;s
+plans,&mdash;four open front cottages grouped
+around an administration infirmary, the superintendent&#8217;s
+office to be finished in white mahogany
+and gold, and the directors&#8217; room in Circassian
+walnut, with a stucco frieze after della
+Robbia. Don&#8217;t you simply love those Robbia
+bambinos?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234' name='page_234'></a>234</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Great!&#8221; says I, lyin&#8217; as easy and genteel
+as if I had lots of practice.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am simply crazy to have the work
+started,&#8221; she goes on; &#8220;so I am spending three
+afternoons a week in filling up my lists. Everyone
+responds so heartily, too. Now, let me see,
+I believe I have put you down for a life membership.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eh?&#8221; says I, gaspin&#8217; some; for it ain&#8217;t
+often I&#8217;m elected to things.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You will have the privilege of voting for
+board members and of recommending two applicants
+a year. A life membership is two hundred
+and fifty dollars.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You mean I get two-fifty,&#8221; says I, &#8220;for&mdash;for
+just&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Then I came to. And, say, did you ever know
+such a bonehead? Honest, though, from all I&#8217;d
+heard of the way she spreads her money around,
+and the patronizin&#8217; style she has of puttin&#8217; this
+proposition up to me, I couldn&#8217;t tell for a minute
+how she meant it. And when I suddenly surrounds
+the idea that it&#8217;s me gives up the two-fifty,
+I&#8217;m so fussed that I drops back into the
+chair and begins to hunt through the desk for my
+checkbook. And then I feels myself growin&#8217; a
+little warm behind the ears.</p>
+<p>&#8220;So you just put me down offhand for two
+hundred and fifty, did you?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you wish,&#8221; says she, &#8220;you may take out
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235' name='page_235'></a>235</span>
+a life certificate for each member of your family.
+Several have done that. Let me show you
+my list of subscribers. See, here are some of
+the prominent merchants and manufacturing
+firms. I haven&#8217;t begun on the brokers and bankers
+yet; but you will be in good company.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ye-e-es?&#8221; says I, runnin&#8217; my eye over the
+firm names. &#8220;But I don&#8217;t know much about
+this scheme of yours, Miss Colliver.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, it is for working girls,&#8221; says she,
+&#8220;who are victims of the white plague. We take
+them up to Piny Crest and cure them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of working?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of the plague,&#8221; says she. &#8220;It is going to
+be the grandest thing I&#8217;ve done yet. And I
+have the names of such a lot of the most interesting
+cases; poor creatures, you know, who are
+suffering in the most wretched quarters. I do
+hope they will last until the station is finished.
+It means finding a new lot, if they don&#8217;t, and
+the public organizations are becoming so active
+in that sort of thing, don&#8217;t you see?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Somehow, I don&#8217;t catch it all, she puts over
+her ideas so fast; but I gather that she&#8217;d like to
+have me come up prompt with my little old two-fifty
+so she can get busy givin&#8217; out the contracts.
+Seein&#8217; me still hangin&#8217; back, though, she&#8217;s
+willin&#8217; to spend a few minutes more in describin&#8217;
+some of the worst cases, which she proceeds
+to do.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236' name='page_236'></a>236</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;We estimate,&#8221; says Miss Ann as a final
+clincher, &#8220;that the average cost is about fifty
+dollars per patient. Now,&#8221; and she sticks the
+subscription list into my fist, &#8220;here is an opportunity!
+Do you wish to save five human
+lives?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Ever had it thrown into you like that? The
+sensation is a good deal like bein&#8217; tied to a post
+and havin&#8217; your pockets frisked by a holdup
+gang. Anyway, that&#8217;s the way I felt, and then
+the next minute I&#8217;m ashamed of havin&#8217; any such
+feelings at all; for there&#8217;s no denyin&#8217; that dozens
+of cases like she mentions can be dug up in
+any crowded block. Seems kind of inhuman,
+too, not to want chip in and help save &#8217;em. And
+yet there I was gettin&#8217; grouchy over it, without
+knowin&#8217; why!</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; says I, squirmin&#8217; in the chair, &#8220;I&#8217;d
+like to save five hundred, if I could. How many
+do you say you&#8217;re going to take care of up at
+this new place?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sixty,&#8221; says she. &#8220;I select the most pitiful
+cases. I am taking some things to one of
+them now. I wish you could see the awful
+misery in that home! I could take you down
+there, you know, and show you what a squalid
+existence they lead, these Tiscotts.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tiscotts!&#8221; says I, prickin&#8217; up my ears.
+&#8220;What Tiscotts? What&#8217;s his first name?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I never heard the husband mentioned,&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237' name='page_237'></a>237</span>
+says Miss Ann. &#8220;I doubt if there is one. The
+woman&#8217;s name, I think, is Mrs. Anthony Tiscott.
+Of course, unless you are really interested&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am,&#8221; says I. &#8220;I&#8217;m ready to go when you
+are.&#8221;</p>
+<p>That seems to jar Miss Colliver some, and
+she tries a little shifty sidestepping; but I puts
+it up to her as flat as she had handed it to me
+about savin&#8217; the five lives. It was either make
+good or welsh, and she comes to the scratch
+cheerful.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very well, then,&#8221; says she, &#8220;we will drive
+down there at once.&#8221;</p>
+<p>So it&#8217;s me into the Victoria alongside of Miss
+Ann, with the fat coachman pilotin&#8217; us down
+Fifth-ave. to 14th, then across to Third-ave.,
+and again down and over to the far East
+Side.</p>
+<p>I forget the exact block; but it&#8217;s one of the
+old style double-deckers, with rusty fire escapes
+decorated with beddin&#8217; hung out to air, dark
+hallways that has a perfume a garbage cart
+would be ashamed of, rickety stairs, plasterin&#8217;
+all gone off the halls, and other usual signs of
+real estate that the agents squeeze fifteen per
+cent. out of. You know how it&#8217;s done, by fixin&#8217;
+the Buildin&#8217; and Board of Health inspectors,
+jammin&#8217; from six to ten fam&#8217;lies in on a floor,
+never makin&#8217; any repairs, and collectin&#8217; weekly
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238' name='page_238'></a>238</span>
+rents or servin&#8217; dispossess notices prompt when
+they don&#8217;t pay up.</p>
+<p>Lovely place to hang up one of the &#8220;Home,
+Sweet Home&#8221; mottoes! There&#8217;s a water tap in
+every hall, so all the tenants can have as much
+as they want, stove holes in most of the rooms,
+and you buy your coal by the bucket at the rate
+of about fourteen dollars a ton. Only three
+a week for a room, twelve dollars a month.
+Course, that&#8217;s more per room than you&#8217;d pay
+on the upper West Side with steam heat, elevator
+service, and a Tennessee marble entrance
+hall thrown in; but the luxury of stowin&#8217; a
+whole fam&#8217;ly into one room comes high. Or
+maybe the landlords are doin&#8217; it to discourage
+poverty.</p>
+<p>&#8220;This is where the Tiscotts hang out, is it?&#8221;
+says I. &#8220;Shall I lug the basket for you, Miss
+Colliver?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dear no!&#8221; says she. &#8220;I never go into such
+places. I always send the things in by Hutchins.
+He will bring Mrs. Tiscott down and she
+will tell us about her troubles.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let Hutchins sit on the box this time,&#8221; says
+I, grabbin&#8217; up the basket. &#8220;Besides, I don&#8217;t
+want any second hand report.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But surely,&#8221; puts in Miss Ann, &#8220;you are
+not going into such a&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why not?&#8221; says I. &#8220;I begun livin&#8217; in one
+just like it.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239' name='page_239'></a>239</span></p>
+<p>At that Miss Ann settles back under the robe,
+shrugs her shoulders into her furs, and waves
+for me to go ahead.</p>
+<p>Half a dozen kids on the doorstep told me in
+chorus where I&#8217;d find the Tiscotts, and after
+I&#8217;ve climbed up through four layers of stale
+cabbage and fried onion smells and felt my way
+along to the third door left from the top of the
+stairs, I makes my entrance as the special messenger
+of the ministerin&#8217; angel.</p>
+<p>It&#8217;s the usual fam&#8217;ly-room tenement scene,
+such as the slum writers are so fond of describin&#8217;
+with the agony pedal down hard, only
+there ain&#8217;t quite so much dirt and rags in evidence
+as they&#8217;d like. There&#8217;s plenty, though.
+Also there&#8217;s a lot of industry on view. Over
+by the light shaft window is Mrs. Tiscott,
+pumpin&#8217; a sewin&#8217; machine like she was entered
+in a twenty-four-hour endurance race, with a
+big bundle of raw materials at one side. In
+front of her is the oldest girl, sewin&#8217; buttons
+onto white goods; while the three younger kids,
+includin&#8217; the four-year-old boy, are spread out
+around the table in the middle of the room,
+pickin&#8217; nut meat into the dishpan.</p>
+<p>What&#8217;s the use of tellin&#8217; how Mrs. Tiscott&#8217;s
+stringy hair was bobbed up, or the kind of wrapper
+she had on? You wouldn&#8217;t expect her to
+be sportin&#8217; a Sixth-ave. built pompadour, or
+a lingerie reception gown, would you? And
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240' name='page_240'></a>240</span>
+where they don&#8217;t have Swedish nursery governesses
+and porcelain tubs, the youngsters are
+apt not to be so&mdash;&mdash;But maybe you&#8217;ll relish
+your nut candy and walnut cake better if we
+skip some details about the state of the kids&#8217;
+hands. What&#8217;s the odds where the contractors
+gets such work done, so long as they can shave
+their estimates?</p>
+<p>The really int&#8217;restin&#8217; exhibit in this fam&#8217;ly
+group, of course, is the bent shouldered, peaked
+faced girl who has humped herself almost double
+and is slappin&#8217; little pearl buttons on white
+goods at the rate of twenty a minute. And
+there&#8217;s no deception about her being a fine case
+for Piny Crest. You don&#8217;t even have to hear
+that bark of hers to know it.</p>
+<p>I stands there lookin&#8217; &#8217;em over for a whole
+minute before anybody pays any attention to
+me. Then Mrs. Tiscott glances up and stops
+her machine.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who&#8217;s that?&#8221; she sings out. &#8220;What do
+you&mdash;&mdash;Why! Well, of all things, Shorty McCabe,
+what brings you here?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m playin&#8217; errand boy for the kind Miss
+Colliver,&#8221; says I, holdin&#8217; up the basket.</p>
+<p>Is there a grand rush my way, and glad cries,
+and tears of joy? Nothing doing in the thankful
+hysterics line.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; says Mrs. Tiscott. &#8220;Well, let&#8217;s see
+what it is this time.&#8221; And she proceeds to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241' name='page_241'></a>241</span>
+dump out Miss Ann&#8217;s contribution. There&#8217;s a
+glass of gooseb&#8217;ry bar le duc, another of guava
+jelly, a little can of pâté de foie gras, and half
+a dozen lady fingers.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Huh!&#8221; says she, shovin&#8217; the truck over on
+the window sill. As she&#8217;s expressed my sentiments
+too, I lets it go at that.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Looks like one of your busy days,&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;One of &#8217;em!&#8221; says she with a snort, yankin&#8217;
+some more pieces out of the bundle and slippin&#8217;
+a fresh spool of cotton onto the machine.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the job?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Baby dresses,&#8221; says she.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good money in it?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, sure!&#8221; says she. &#8220;Forty cents a
+dozen is good, ain&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What noble merchant prince is so generous
+to you as all that?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Tiscott, she shoves over the sweater&#8217;s
+shop tag so I can read for myself. Curious,&mdash;wa&#8217;n&#8217;t
+it?&mdash;but it&#8217;s the same firm whose name
+heads the Piny Crest subscription list. It&#8217;s
+time to change the subject.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How&#8217;s Annie?&#8221; says I, lookin&#8217; over at her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Her cough don&#8217;t seem to get any better,&#8221;
+says Mrs. Tiscott. &#8220;She&#8217;s had it since she
+had to quit work in the gas mantle shop. That&#8217;s
+where she got it. The dust, you know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Yes, I knew. &#8220;How about Tony?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tony!&#8221; says she, hard and bitter. &#8220;How
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242' name='page_242'></a>242</span>
+do I know? He ain&#8217;t been near us for a month
+past.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sends in something of a Saturday, don&#8217;t
+he?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Would I be lettin&#8217; the likes of her&mdash;that
+Miss Colliver&mdash;come here if he did,&#8221; says she,
+&#8220;or workin&#8217; my eyes out like this?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I thought Lizzie was in a store?&#8221; says I,
+noddin&#8217; towards the twelve-year-old girl at the
+nut pickin&#8217; table.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They always lays off half the bundle girls
+after Christmas,&#8221; says Mrs. Tiscott. &#8220;That&#8217;s
+why we don&#8217;t see Tony regular every payday
+any more. He had the nerve to claim most of
+Lizzie&#8217;s envelope.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Then it was my turn to say &#8220;Huh!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why don&#8217;t you have him up?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m a-scared,&#8221; says she. &#8220;He&#8217;s promised
+to break my head.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Think he would?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; says she. &#8220;He&#8217;s changed for the
+worse lately. He&#8217;d do it, all right, if I took him
+to court.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What if I stood ready to break his, eh?&#8221;
+says I. &#8220;Would that hold him?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Say, it wa&#8217;n&#8217;t an elevatin&#8217; or cheerful conversation
+me and Mrs. Tiscott indulged in; but
+it was more or less to the point. She&#8217;s some
+int&#8217;rested in the last proposition of mine, and
+when I adds a few frills about givin&#8217; a butcher&#8217;s
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243' name='page_243'></a>243</span>
+order and standin&#8217; for a sack of potatoes, she
+agrees to swear out the summons for Tony,
+providin&#8217; I&#8217;ll hand it to him and be in court
+to scare the liver out of him when she talks to
+the Justice.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I hate to do it too,&#8221; says she.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know,&#8221; says I; &#8220;but no meat or potatoes
+from me unless you do!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Sounds kind of harsh, don&#8217;t it? You&#8217;d think
+I had a special grudge against Tony Tiscott too.
+But say, it&#8217;s only because I know him and his
+kind so well. Nothing so peculiar about his
+case. Lots of them swell coachmen go that way,
+and in his day Tony has driven for some big
+people. Him and me got acquainted when he
+was wearin&#8217; the Twombley-Crane livery and
+drawin&#8217; down his sixty-five a month. That
+wa&#8217;n&#8217;t so long ago, either.</p>
+<p>But it&#8217;s hard waitin&#8217; hours on the box in
+cold weather, and they get to boozin&#8217;. When
+they hit it up too free they lose their places.
+After they&#8217;ve lost too many places they don&#8217;t
+get any more. Meantime they&#8217;ve accumulated
+rheumatism and a fam&#8217;ly of kids. They&#8217;ve got
+lazy habits too, and new jobs don&#8217;t come easy
+at forty. The next degree is loafin&#8217; around
+home permanent; but they ain&#8217;t apt to find that
+so pleasant unless the wife is a good hustler.
+Most likely she rows it. So they chuck the
+fam&#8217;ly and drift off by themselves.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244' name='page_244'></a>244</span></p>
+<p>That&#8217;s the sort of chaps you&#8217;ll find on the
+bread lines. But Tony hadn&#8217;t quite got to that
+yet. I knew the corner beer joint where he did
+odd jobs as free lunch carver and window
+cleaner. Also I knew the line of talk I meant to
+hand out to him when I got my fingers on his
+collar.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well?&#8221; says Miss Ann, when I comes back
+with the empty basket. &#8220;Did you find it an
+interesting case?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe that&#8217;s the word,&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You saw the young woman, did you?&#8221; says
+she, &#8220;the one who&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure,&#8221; says I. &#8220;She&#8217;s got it&mdash;bad.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah!&#8221; says Miss Ann, brightenin&#8217; up.
+&#8220;And now about that life membership!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; says I, &#8220;the Piny Crest proposition
+is all right, and I&#8217;d like to see it started;
+but the fact is, Miss Colliver, if I should put my
+name down with all them big people I&#8217;d be
+runnin&#8217; out of my class.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You would be&mdash;er&mdash;&mdash;Beg pardon,&#8221; says
+she, &#8220;but I don&#8217;t think I quite get you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>I&#8217;d suspected she wouldn&#8217;t. But how was I
+going to dope out to her clear and straight
+what&#8217;s so muddled up in my own head? You
+know, all about how Annie got her cough, and
+my feelin&#8217;s towards the firms that&#8217;s sweatin&#8217;
+the Tiscotts, from the baby up, and a lot of
+other things that I can&#8217;t state.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245' name='page_245'></a>245</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;As I said,&#8221; goes on Miss Colliver, &#8220;I
+hardly think I understand.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Me either,&#8221; says I. &#8220;My head&#8217;s just a
+merry go round of whys and whatfors. But, as
+far as that fund of yours goes, I don&#8217;t come in.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Humph!&#8221; says she. &#8220;That, at least, is
+quite definite. Home, Hutchins!&#8221;</p>
+<p>And there I am left on the curb lookin&#8217; foolish.
+Me, I don&#8217;t ride back to the studio on any
+broadcloth cushions! Serves me right too, I
+expect. I feels mean and low down all the rest
+of the day, until I gets some satisfaction by
+huntin&#8217; up Tony and throwin&#8217; such a scare into
+him that he goes out and finds a porter&#8217;s job
+and swears by all that&#8217;s holy he&#8217;ll take up with
+the fam&#8217;ly again.</p>
+<p>But think of the chance I passed up of
+breakin&#8217; into the high toned philanthropy class!</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XVI_CLASSING_TUTWATER_RIGHT' id='XVI_CLASSING_TUTWATER_RIGHT'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246' name='page_246'></a>246</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2>
+<h3>CLASSING TUTWATER RIGHT</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Maybe that brass plate had been up in the
+lower hall of our buildin&#8217; a month or so before
+I takes any partic&#8217;lar notice of it. Even when
+I did get my eye on it one mornin&#8217; it only gets
+me mildly curious. &#8220;Tutwater, Director of Enterprises,
+Room 37, Fourth Floor,&#8221; is all it says
+on it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Huh!&#8221; thinks I. &#8220;That&#8217;s goin&#8217; some for
+a nine by ten coop under the skylight.&#8221;</p>
+<p>And with that I should have let it drop, I
+expect. But what&#8217;s the use? Where&#8217;s the fun
+of livin&#8217;, if you can&#8217;t mix in now and then. And
+you know how I am.</p>
+<p>Well, I comes pikin&#8217; up the stairs one day not
+long after discoverin&#8217; the sign, and here on my
+landin&#8217;, right in front of the studio door, I finds
+this Greek that runs the towel supply wagon
+usin&#8217; up his entire United States vocabulary on
+a strange gent that he&#8217;s backed into a corner.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Easy, there, easy, Mr. Poulykopolis!&#8221; says
+I. &#8220;This ain&#8217;t any golf links, where you can
+smoke up the atmosphere with language like
+that. What&#8217;s the row, anyway?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247' name='page_247'></a>247</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;No pay for five week; always nex&#8217; time,
+he tells, nex&#8217; time. Gr-r-r-r! I am strong to
+slap his life out, me!&#8221; says Pouly, thumpin&#8217;
+his chest and shakin&#8217; his black curls. They sure
+are fierce actin&#8217; citizens when they&#8217;re excited,
+these Marathoners.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, you would!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Slap his life
+out? G&#8217;wan! If he handed you one jolt you
+wouldn&#8217;t stop runnin&#8217; for a week. How big is
+this national debt you say he owes you! How
+much?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Five week!&#8221; says Pouly. &#8220;One dollar
+twenty-five.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sufferin&#8217; Shylocks! All of that? Well,
+neighbor,&#8221; says I to the strange gent, &#8220;has he
+stated it correct?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perfectly, sir, perfectly,&#8221; says the party of
+the second part. &#8220;I do not deny the indebtedness
+in the least. I was merely trying to explain
+to this agent of cleanliness that, having been
+unable to get to the bank this morning, I should
+be obliged to&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, of course,&#8221; says I. &#8220;And in that
+case allow me to stake you to the price of peace.
+Here you are, Pouly. Now go out in the sun
+and cool off.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My dear sir,&#8221; says the stranger, followin&#8217;
+me into the front office, &#8220;permit me to&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, never mind the resolutions!&#8221; says I,
+&#8220;It was worth riskin&#8217; that much for the sake
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248' name='page_248'></a>248</span>
+of stoppin&#8217; the riot. Yes, I know you&#8217;ll pay it
+back. Let&#8217;s see, which is your floor?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Top, sir,&#8221; says he, &#8220;room 37.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh ho!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Then you&#8217;re the enterprise
+director, Tutwater?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And your very humble servant, sir,&#8221; says
+he, bringin&#8217; his yellow Panama lid off with a
+full arm sweep, and throwin&#8217; one leg graceful
+over the back of a chair.</p>
+<p>At that I takes a closer look at him, and before
+I&#8217;ve got half through the inspection I&#8217;ve
+waved a sad farewell to that one twenty-five.
+From the frayed necktie down to the runover
+shoes, Tutwater is a walkin&#8217; example of the
+poor debtor&#8217;s oath. The shiny seams of the
+black frock coat shouts of home pressin&#8217;, and
+the limp way his white vest fits him suggests
+that he does his own laundry work in the washbowl.
+But he&#8217;s clean shaved and clean brushed,
+and you can guess he&#8217;s seen the time when he
+had such things done for him in style.</p>
+<p>Yet there ain&#8217;t anything about the way Tutwater
+carries himself that signifies he&#8217;s down
+and out. Not much! He&#8217;s got the easy, confident
+swing to his shoulders that you might expect
+from a sport who&#8217;d just picked three winners
+runnin&#8217;.</p>
+<p>Rather a tall, fairly well built gent he is, with
+a good chest on him, and he has one of these
+eager, earnest faces that shows he&#8217;s alive all the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249' name='page_249'></a>249</span>
+time. You wouldn&#8217;t call him a handsome man,
+though, on account of the deep furrows down
+each side of his cheeks and the prominent jut
+to his eyebrows; but, somehow, when he gets
+to talkin&#8217;, them eyes of his lights up so you
+forget the rest of his features.</p>
+<p>You&#8217;ve seen chaps like that. Gen&#8217;rally they&#8217;re
+cranks of some kind or other, and when they
+ain&#8217;t they&#8217;re topliners. So I puts Tutwater
+down as belongin&#8217; to the crank class, and it
+wa&#8217;n&#8217;t long before he begun livin&#8217; up to the
+description.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Director of enterprises, eh?&#8221; says I.
+&#8220;That&#8217;s a new one on me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Naturally,&#8221; says he, wavin&#8217; his hand, &#8220;considering
+that I am first in the field. It is a
+profession I am creating.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;So?&#8221; says I. &#8220;Well, how are you comin&#8217;
+on?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Excellently, sir, excellently,&#8221; says he. &#8220;I
+have found, for the first time in my somewhat
+varied career, full scope for what I am pleased
+to call my talents. Of course, the work of preparing
+the ground is a slow process, and the&mdash;er&mdash;ahem&mdash;the
+results have not as yet begun to
+materialize; but when Opportunity comes my
+way, sir&mdash;&mdash;Aha! Ha, ha! Ho, ho! Well,
+then we shall see if Tutwater is not ready for
+her!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I see,&#8221; says I. &#8220;You with your hand on
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250' name='page_250'></a>250</span>
+the knob, eh? It&#8217;s an easy way of passin&#8217; the
+time too; that is, providin&#8217; such things as visits
+from the landlord and the towel collector don&#8217;t
+worry you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not at all,&#8221; says he. &#8220;Merely petty annoyances,
+thorns and pebbles in the pathways
+that lead to each high emprise.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Say, it was almost like hearin&#8217; some one read
+po&#8217;try, listenin&#8217; to Tutwater talk; didn&#8217;t mean
+much of anything, and sounded kind of good.
+At the end of half an hour I didn&#8217;t know any
+more about his game than at the beginning. I
+gathered, though, that up to date it hadn&#8217;t produced
+any ready cash, and that Tutwater had
+been on his uppers for some time.</p>
+<p>He was no grafter, though. That dollar
+twenty-five weighed heavier on his mind than
+it did on mine. He&#8217;d come in and talk about not
+bein&#8217; able to pay it back real regretful, without
+even hintin&#8217; at another touch. And little by
+little I got more light on Tutwater, includin&#8217;
+some details of what he called his career.</p>
+<p>There was a lot to it, so far as variety went.
+He&#8217;d been a hist&#8217;ry professor in some one-horse
+Western college, had tried his luck once up at
+Nome, had canvassed for a patent dishwasher
+through Michigan, done a ballyhoo trick outside
+a travelin&#8217; tent show, and had given bump lectures
+on the schoolhouse circuit.</p>
+<p>But his prize stunt was when he broke into
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251' name='page_251'></a>251</span>
+the real estate business and laid out Eucalyptus
+City. That was out in Iowa somewhere, and
+he&#8217;d have cleaned up a cool million in money if
+the blamed trolley company hadn&#8217;t built their
+line seven miles off in the other direction.</p>
+<p>It was gettin&#8217; this raw deal that convinces him
+the seed district wa&#8217;n&#8217;t any place for a gent of
+his abilities. So he sold out his options on the
+site of Eucalyptus to a brick makin&#8217; concern,
+and beat it for 42d-st. with a capital of eighty-nine
+dollars cash and this great director scheme
+in his head. The brass plate had cost him four
+dollars and fifty cents, one month&#8217;s rent of the
+upstairs coop had set him back thirty more, and
+he&#8217;d been livin&#8217; on the rest.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But look here, Tutty,&#8221; says I, &#8220;just
+what sort of enterprise do you think you can
+direct?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Any sort,&#8221; says he, &#8220;anything, from running
+an international exposition, to putting an
+icecream parlor on a paying basis.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you find your modesty something of
+a handicap?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I&#8217;m modest enough,&#8221; he goes on.
+&#8220;For instance, I don&#8217;t claim to invent new
+methods. I just adapt, pick out lines of proved
+success, and develop. Now, your business here&mdash;why,
+I could take hold of it, and in six months&#8217;
+time I&#8217;d have you occupying this entire building,
+with classes on every floor, a solarium on
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252' name='page_252'></a>252</span>
+the roof, a corps of assistants working day and
+night shifts, and&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; I breaks in, &#8220;and then the Sheriff
+tackin&#8217; a foreclosure notice on the front door.
+I know how them boom methods work out,
+Tutty.&#8221;</p>
+<p>But talk like that don&#8217;t discourage Tutwater
+at all. He hangs onto his great scheme, keepin&#8217;
+his eyes and ears open, writin&#8217; letters when he
+can scare up money for postage, and insistin&#8217;
+that sooner or later he&#8217;ll get his chance.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Here is the place for such chances to occur,&#8221;
+says he, &#8220;and I know what I can do.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right,&#8221; says I; &#8220;but if I was you I&#8217;d
+trail down some pavin&#8217; job before the paper
+inner soles wore clean through.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Course, how soon he hit the bread line wa&#8217;n&#8217;t
+any funeral of mine exactly, and he was a hopeless
+case anyway; but somehow I got to likin&#8217;
+Tutwater more or less, and wishin&#8217; there was
+some plan of applyin&#8217; all that hot air of his in
+useful ways. I know of lots of stiffs with not
+half his brains that makes enough to ride around
+in taxis and order custom made shirts. He was
+gettin&#8217; seedier every week, though, and I had
+it straight from the agent that it was only a
+question of a few days before that brass plate
+would have to come down.</p>
+<p>And then, one noon as we was chinnin&#8217; here
+in the front office, in blows a portly, red faced,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253' name='page_253'></a>253</span>
+stary eyed old party who seems kind of dazed
+and uncertain as to where he&#8217;s goin&#8217;. He looks
+first at Tutwater, and then at me.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Same to you and many of &#8217;em,&#8221; says I.
+&#8220;What&#8217;ll it be?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;McCabe was the name,&#8221; says he; &#8220;Professor
+McCabe, I think. I had it written down
+somewhere; but&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Never mind,&#8221; says I. &#8220;This is the shop
+and I&#8217;m the right party. What then?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps you don&#8217;t know me?&#8221; says he, explorin&#8217;
+his vest pockets sort of aimless with his
+fingers.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s another good guess,&#8221; says I; &#8220;but
+there&#8217;s lots of time ahead of us.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;I am&mdash;well, never mind the name,&#8221; says
+he, brushin&#8217; one hand over his eyes. &#8220;I&mdash;I&#8217;ve
+mislaid it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eh?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s no matter,&#8221; says he, beginnin&#8217; to ramble
+on again. &#8220;But I own a great deal of property
+in the city, and my head has been troubling
+me lately, and I heard you could help me. I&#8217;ll
+pay you well, you know. I&mdash;I&#8217;ll give you the
+Brooklyn Bridge.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wha-a-at&#8217;s that?&#8221; I gasps. &#8220;Say,
+couldn&#8217;t you make it Madison Square Garden?
+I could get rent out of that.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, if you prefer,&#8221; says he, without
+crackin&#8217; a smile.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254' name='page_254'></a>254</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;And this is Mr. Tutwater,&#8221; says I. &#8220;He
+ought to be in on this. What&#8217;ll yours be,
+Tutty?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Say, for a minute or so I couldn&#8217;t make out
+whether the old party was really off his chump
+or what. He&#8217;s a well dressed, prosperous lookin&#8217;
+gent, a good deal on the retired broker type,
+and I didn&#8217;t know but he might be some friend
+of Pyramid Gordon&#8217;s who&#8217;d strayed in here to
+hand me a josh before signin&#8217; on for a course
+of lessons.</p>
+<p>Next thing we knew, though, he slumps down
+in my desk chair, leans back comf&#8217;table, sighs
+sort of contented, smiles a batty, foolish smile
+at us, and then closes his eyes. Another second
+and he&#8217;s snorin&#8217; away as peaceful as you
+please.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, say!&#8221; says I to Tutwater. &#8220;What
+do you think of that, now? Does he take this
+for a free lodgin&#8217; house, or Central Park?
+Looks like it was up to me to ring for the
+wagon.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t,&#8221; says Tutwater. &#8220;The police handle
+these cases so stupidly. His mind has been
+affected, possibly from some shock, and he is
+physically exhausted.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s all in, sure enough,&#8221; says I; &#8220;but I
+can&#8217;t have him sawin&#8217; wood here. Come, come,
+old scout,&#8221; I hollers in his ear, &#8220;you&#8217;ll have to
+camp somewhere else for this act!&#8221; I might
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255' name='page_255'></a>255</span>
+as well have shouted into the safe, though. He
+never stirs.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The thing to do,&#8221; says Tutwater, &#8220;is to
+discover his name, if we can, and then communicate
+with his friends or family.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe you&#8217;re right, Tutwater,&#8221; says I.
+&#8220;And there&#8217;s a bunch of letters in his inside
+pocket. Have a look.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They all seem to be addressed to J. T.
+Fargo, Esq.,&#8221; says Tutwater.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Say, you don&#8217;t suppose
+our sleepin&#8217; friend here is old Jerry Fargo,
+do you? Look at the tailor&#8217;s label inside the
+pocket. Eh? Jeremiah T. Fargo! Well, say,
+Tutty, that wa&#8217;n&#8217;t such an idle dream of his,
+about givin&#8217; me the garden. Guess he could if
+he wanted to. Why, this old party owns more
+business blocks in this town than anybody I
+know of except the Astors. And I was for
+havin&#8217; him carted off to the station! Lemme
+see that &#8217;phone directory.&#8221;</p>
+<p>A minute more and I had the Fargo house on
+the wire.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who are you?&#8221; says I. &#8220;Oh, Mr. Fargo&#8217;s
+butler. Well, this is Shorty McCabe, and I want
+to talk to some of the fam&#8217;ly about the old man.
+Sure, old Jerry. He&#8217;s here. Eh, his sister?
+She&#8217;ll do. Yes, I&#8217;ll hold the wire.&#8221;</p>
+<p>I&#8217;d heard of that old maid sister of his, and
+how she was a queer old girl; but I didn&#8217;t have
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256' name='page_256'></a>256</span>
+any idea what a cold blooded proposition she
+was. Honest, she seemed put out and pettish
+because I&#8217;d called her up.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Jeremiah again, hey?&#8221; she squeaks.
+&#8220;Now, why on earth don&#8217;t he stay in that sanatorium
+where I took him? This is the fourth
+time he&#8217;s gone wandering off, and I&#8217;ve been sent
+for to hunt him up. You just tell him to trot
+back to it, that&#8217;s all.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But see here, Miss Fargo,&#8221; says I, &#8220;he&#8217;s
+been trottin&#8217; around until you can&#8217;t tell him anything!
+He&#8217;s snoozin&#8217; away here in my office,
+dead to the world.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I can&#8217;t help it,&#8221; says she. &#8220;I&#8217;m not
+going to be bothered with Jeremiah to-day. I&#8217;ve
+got two sick cats to attend to.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cats!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Say, what do you&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, hush up!&#8221; says she. &#8220;Do anything
+you like with him!&#8221; And hanged if she don&#8217;t
+bang up the receiver at that, and leave me
+standin&#8217; there at my end of the wire lookin&#8217;
+silly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Talk about your freak plutes,&#8221; says I to
+Tutwater, after I&#8217;ve explained the situation,
+&#8220;if this ain&#8217;t the limit! Look what I&#8217;ve got on
+my hands now!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Tutwater, he&#8217;s standin&#8217; there gazin&#8217; hard at
+old Jerry Fargo, his eyes shinin&#8217; and his
+thought works goin&#8217; at high pressure speed.
+All of a sudden he slaps me on the back and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257' name='page_257'></a>257</span>
+grips me by the hand. &#8220;Professor,&#8221; says he,
+&#8220;I have it! There is Opportunity!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eh?&#8221; says I. &#8220;Old Jerry? How?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I shall cure him&mdash;restore his mind, make
+him normal,&#8221; says Tutwater.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you know about brushin&#8217; out batty
+lofts?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing at all,&#8221; says he; &#8220;but I can find
+someone who does. You&#8217;ll give me Fargo,
+won&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Will I?&#8221; says I. &#8220;I&#8217;ll advance you twenty
+to take him away, and charge it up to him. But
+what&#8217;ll you do with him?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Start the Tutwater Sanatorium for Deranged
+Millionaires,&#8221; says he. &#8220;There&#8217;s a fortune
+in it. May I leave him here for an hour
+or so?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What for?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Until I can engage my chief of staff,&#8221; says
+he.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Say, Tutty,&#8221; says I, &#8220;do you really mean
+to put over a bluff the size of that?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve thought it all out,&#8221; says he. &#8220;I can
+do it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right, blaze ahead,&#8221; says I; &#8220;but I&#8217;m
+bettin&#8217; you land in the lockup inside of twenty-four
+hours.&#8221;</p>
+<p>What do you think, though? By three o&#8217;clock
+he comes back, towin&#8217; a spruce, keen eyed
+young chap that he introduces as Dr. McWade.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258' name='page_258'></a>258</span>
+He&#8217;s picked him up over at Bellevue, where he
+found him doin&#8217; practice work in the psychopathic
+ward. On the strength of that I doubles
+my grubstake, and he no sooner gets his hands
+on the two sawbucks than he starts for the
+street.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Here, here!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Where you headed
+for now?&#8221;</p>
+<p>And Tutwater explains how his first investment
+is to be a new silk lid, some patent leather
+shoes, and a silver headed walkin&#8217; stick.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good business!&#8221; says I. &#8220;You&#8217;ll need all
+the front you can carry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>And while he&#8217;s out shoppin&#8217; the Doc and me
+and Swifty Joe lugs the patient up to Tutwater&#8217;s
+office without disturbin&#8217; his slumbers at
+all.</p>
+<p>Well, I didn&#8217;t see much more of Tutwater that
+day, for from then on he was a mighty busy
+man; but as I was drillin&#8217; across to the Grand
+Central on my way home I gets a glimpse of
+him, sportin&#8217; a shiny hat and white spats, just
+rushin&#8217; important into a swell real estate office.
+About noon next day he stops in long enough
+to shake hands and say that it&#8217;s all settled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tutwater Sanatorium is a fact,&#8221; says he.
+&#8220;I have the lease in my pocket.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What is it, some abandoned farm up in
+Vermont?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hardly,&#8221; says Tutwater, smilin&#8217; quiet.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259' name='page_259'></a>259</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s Cragswoods; beautiful modern buildings,
+formerly occupied as a boys&#8217; boarding school,
+fifteen acres of lovely grounds, finest location
+in Westchester County. We take possession
+to-day, with our patient.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But, say, Tutwater,&#8221; says I, &#8220;how in
+blazes did you&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I produced Fargo,&#8221; says he. &#8220;Dr. McWade
+has him under complete control and his
+cure has already begun. It will be finished at
+Cragswoods. Run up and see us soon. There&#8217;s
+the address. So long.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Well, even after that, I couldn&#8217;t believe he&#8217;d
+really pull it off. Course, I knew he could make
+Fargo&#8217;s name go a long ways if he used it judicious;
+but to launch out and hire an estate
+worth half a million&mdash;why he was makin&#8217; a shoestring
+start look like a sure thing.</p>
+<p>And I was still listenin&#8217; for news of the grand
+crash, when I begun seein&#8217; these items in the
+papers about the Tutwater Sanatorium. &#8220;Millionaires
+Building a Stone Wall,&#8221; one was
+headed, and it went on to tell how five New York
+plutes, all sufferin&#8217; from some nerve breakdown,
+was gettin&#8217; back health and clearin&#8217; up their
+brains by workin&#8217; like day laborers under the
+direction of the famous specialist, Dr. Clinton
+McWade.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Aha!&#8221; says I. &#8220;He&#8217;s added a press agent
+to the staff, and he sure has got a bird!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260' name='page_260'></a>260</span></p>
+<p>Every few days there&#8217;s a new story bobs up,
+better than the last, until I can&#8217;t stand it any
+longer. I takes half a day off and goes up
+there to see if he&#8217;s actually doin&#8217; it. And, say,
+when I walks into the main office over the Persian
+rug, there&#8217;s the same old Tutwater.
+Course, he&#8217;s slicked up some fancy, and he&#8217;s
+smokin&#8217; a good cigar; but you couldn&#8217;t improve
+any on the cheerful countenance he used to
+carry around, even when he was up against it
+hardest. What I asks to see first is the five
+millionaires at work.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Seven, you mean,&#8221; says Tutwater. &#8220;Two
+more came yesterday. Step right out this way.
+There they are, seven; count &#8217;em, seven. The
+eighth man is a practical stone mason who is
+bossing the job. It&#8217;s a good stone wall they&#8217;re
+building, too. We expect to run it along our
+entire frontage.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Got &#8217;em mesmerized?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not at all,&#8221; says Tutwater. &#8220;It&#8217;s part of
+the treatment. McWade&#8217;s idea, you know. The
+vocational cure, we call it, and it works like a
+charm. Mr. Fargo is practically a well man
+now and could return to his home next week
+if he wished. As it is, he&#8217;s so much interested
+in finishing that first section of the wall that
+he will probably stay the month out. You can
+see for yourself what they are doing.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, well!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Seven of &#8217;em!
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261' name='page_261'></a>261</span>
+What I don&#8217;t understand, Tutwater, is how you
+got so many patients so soon. Where&#8217;d you get
+hold of &#8217;em?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;To be quite frank with you, McCabe,&#8221; says
+Tutwater, whisperin&#8217; confidential in my ear,
+&#8220;only three of them are genuine paying patients.
+That is why I have to charge them fifty
+dollars a day, you see.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And the others?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;First class imitations, who are playing
+their parts very cleverly,&#8221; says he. &#8220;Why
+not? I engaged them through a reliable theatrical
+agency.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eh?&#8221; says I. &#8220;You salted the sanatorium?
+Tutwater, I take it all back. You&#8217;re in
+the other class, and I&#8217;m backin&#8217; you after this
+for whatever entry you want to make.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XVII_HOW_HERMY_PUT_IT_OVER' id='XVII_HOW_HERMY_PUT_IT_OVER'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262' name='page_262'></a>262</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2>
+<h3>HOW HERMY PUT IT OVER</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>What do you know about luck, eh? Say, there
+was a time when I banked heavy on such things
+as four-leaf clovers, and the humpback touch,
+and dodgin&#8217; ladders, and keepin&#8217; my fingers
+crossed after gettin&#8217; an X-ray stare. The
+longer I watch the game, though, the less I think
+of the luck proposition as a chart for explainin&#8217;
+why some gets in on the ground floor, while
+others are dropped through the coal chute.</p>
+<p>Now look at the latest returns on the career of
+my old grammar school chum, Snick Butters.
+Maybe you don&#8217;t remember my mentionin&#8217; him
+before. Yes? No? It don&#8217;t matter. He&#8217;s the
+sporty young gent that&#8217;s mortgaged his memorial
+window to me so many times,&mdash;you know,
+the phony lamp he can do such stunts with.</p>
+<p>He&#8217;s a smooth boy, Snick is,&mdash;too smooth, I
+used to tell him,&mdash;and always full of schemes for
+avoidin&#8217; real work. For a year or so past he&#8217;s
+held the hot air chair on the front end of one
+of these sightseein&#8217; chariots, cheerin&#8217; the out of
+town buyers and wheat belt tourists with the
+flippest line of skyscraper statistics handed out
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263' name='page_263'></a>263</span>
+through any megaphone in town. They tell me
+that when Snick would fix his fake eye on the
+sidewalk, and roll the good one up at the Metropolitan
+tower, he&#8217;d have his passengers so dizzy
+they&#8217;d grab one another to keep from fallin&#8217;
+off the wagon.</p>
+<p>Yes, I always did find Snick&#8217;s comp&#8217;ny entertainin&#8217;,
+and if it hadn&#8217;t been more or less expensive,&mdash;a
+visit always meanin&#8217; a touch with
+him,&mdash;I expect I&#8217;d been better posted on what
+he was up to. As it is, I ain&#8217;t enjoyed the luxury
+of seein&#8217; Snick for a good many months;
+when here the other afternoon, just as I was
+thinking of startin&#8217; for home, the studio door
+opens, and in blows a couple of gents, one being
+a stranger, and the other this Mr. Butters.</p>
+<p>Now, usually Snick&#8217;s a fancy dresser, no matter
+who he owes for it. He&#8217;ll quit eatin&#8217; any
+time, or do the camel act, or even give up his
+cigarettes; but if the gents&#8217; furnishing shops are
+showin&#8217; something new in the line of violet
+socks or alligator skin vests, Snick&#8217;s got to sport
+the first ones sprung on Broadway.</p>
+<p>So, seein&#8217; him show up with fringes on his
+cuffs, a pair of runover tan shoes, and wearin&#8217;
+his uniform cap off duty, I can&#8217;t help feelin&#8217;
+some shocked, or wonderin&#8217; how much more&#8217;n
+a five-spot I&#8217;ll be out by the time he leaves. It
+was some relief, though, to see that the glass
+eye was still in place, and know I wouldn&#8217;t be
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264' name='page_264'></a>264</span>
+called on to redeem the ticket on that, anyway.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello, Snick!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Glad you came
+in,&mdash;I was just going. Hope you don&#8217;t mind
+my lockin&#8217; the safe? No offense, you know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Can it, Shorty,&#8221; says he. &#8220;There&#8217;s no
+brace coming this time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eh?&#8221; says I. &#8220;Once more with that last,
+and say it slower, so I can let it sink in.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t kid,&#8221; says he. &#8220;This is straight
+business.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Well, that does sound serious.
+In that case, who&#8217;s your&mdash;er&mdash;&mdash;Did he
+come in with you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>I thought he did at first; but he seems so little
+int&#8217;rested in either Snick or me that I wa&#8217;n&#8217;t
+sure but he just wandered in because he saw
+the door open. He&#8217;s a high, well built, fairly
+good lookin&#8217; chap, dressed neat and quiet in
+black; and if it wa&#8217;n&#8217;t for the sort of aimless,
+wanderin&#8217; look in his eyes, you might have suspected
+he was somebody in partic&#8217;lar.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, him!&#8221; says Snick, shootin&#8217; a careless
+glance over his shoulder. &#8220;Yes, of course he&#8217;s
+with me. It&#8217;s him I want to talk to you about.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; says I, &#8220;don&#8217;t he&mdash;er&mdash;&mdash;Is it a
+dummy, or a live one? Got a name, ain&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, sure!&#8221; says Snick. &#8220;That&#8217;s Hermy.
+Hey you, Hermy, shake hands with Professor
+McCabe!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265' name='page_265'></a>265</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Howdy,&#8221; says I, makin&#8217; ready to pass the
+grip. But Hermy ain&#8217;t in a sociable mood, it
+seems.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, bother!&#8221; says he, lookin&#8217; around kind
+of disgusted and not noticin&#8217; the welcomin&#8217;
+hand at all. &#8220;I don&#8217;t want to stay here. I
+ought to be home, dressing for dinner.&#8221;</p>
+<p>And say, that gives you about as much idea
+of the way he said it, as you&#8217;d get of an oil
+paintin&#8217; from seein&#8217; a blueprint. I can&#8217;t put in
+the pettish shoulder wiggle that goes with it, or
+make my voice behave like his did. It was the
+most ladylike voice I ever heard come from a
+heavyweight; one of these reg&#8217;lar &#8220;Oh-fudge-Lizzie-I-dropped-my-gum&#8221;
+voices. And him
+with a chest on him like a swell front mahog&#8217;ny
+bureau!</p>
+<p>&#8220;Splash!&#8221; says I. &#8220;You mean, mean thing!
+So there!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t mind what he says at all, Shorty,&#8221;
+says Snick. &#8220;You wait! I&#8217;ll fix him!&#8221; and
+with that he walks up to Hermy, shakes his
+finger under his nose, and proceeds to lay him
+out. &#8220;Now what did I tell you; eh, Hermy?&#8221;
+says Snick. &#8220;One lump of sugar in your tea&mdash;no
+pie&mdash;and locked in your room at eight-thirty.
+Oh, I mean it! You&#8217;re here to behave
+yourself. Understand? Take your fingers off
+that necktie! Don&#8217;t slouch against the wall
+there, either! You might get your coat dusty.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266' name='page_266'></a>266</span>
+Dress for dinner! Didn&#8217;t I wait fifteen minutes
+while you fussed with your hair? And do you
+think you&#8217;re going to go through all that again?
+You&#8217;re dressed for dinner, I tell you! But you
+don&#8217;t get a bit unless you do as you&#8217;re told!
+Hear?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ye-e-es, sir,&#8221; sniffles Hermy.</p>
+<p>Honest, it was a little the oddest exhibition
+I ever saw. Why, he would make two of Snick,
+this Hermy would, and he has a pair of shoulders
+like a truck horse. Don&#8217;t ever talk to me
+about chins again, either! Hermy has chin
+enough for a trust buster; but that&#8217;s all the
+good it seems to do him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You ain&#8217;t cast the hypnotic spell over him,
+have you, Snick?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hypnotic nothing!&#8221; says Snick. &#8220;That
+ain&#8217;t a man; it&#8217;s only a music box!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A which?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Barytone,&#8221; says Snick. &#8220;Say, did you
+ever hear Bonci or Caruso or any of that mob
+warble? No? Well, then I&#8217;ll have to tell you.
+Look at Hermy there. Take a good long gaze
+at him. And&mdash;sh-h-h! After he&#8217;s had one show
+at the Metropolitan he&#8217;ll have that whole bunch
+carryin&#8217; spears.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is this something you dreamed, Snick,&#8221;
+says I, &#8220;or is it a sample of your megaphone
+talk?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t believe it, of course,&#8221; says he.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267' name='page_267'></a>267</span>
+&#8220;That&#8217;s what I brought him up here for.
+Hermy, turn on the Toreador business!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eh?&#8221; says I; then I sees Hermy gettin&#8217;
+into position to cut loose. &#8220;Back up there!
+Shut it off! What do I know about judgin&#8217; singers
+on the hoof? Why, he might be all you say,
+or as bad as I&#8217;d be willin&#8217; to bet; but I wouldn&#8217;t
+know it. And what odds does it make to me,
+one way or another?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know, Shorty,&#8221; says Snick, earnest and
+pleadin&#8217;; &#8220;but you&#8217;re my last hope. I&#8217;ve simply
+got to convince you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sorry, Snick,&#8221; says I; &#8220;but this ain&#8217;t my
+day for tryin&#8217; out barytones. Besides, I got to
+catch a train.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right,&#8221; says Snick. &#8220;Then we&#8217;ll trot
+along with you while I tell you about Hermy.
+Honest, Shorty, you&#8217;ve got to hear it!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If it&#8217;s as desperate as all that,&#8221; says I,
+&#8220;spiel away.&#8221;</p>
+<p>And of all the plunges I ever knew Snick Butters
+to make,&mdash;and he sure is the dead gamest
+sport I ever ran across,&mdash;this one that he owns
+up to takin&#8217; on Hermy had all his past performances
+put in the piker class.</p>
+<p>Accordin&#8217; to the way he deals it out, Snick
+had first discovered Hermy about a year ago,
+found him doin&#8217; the tray balancin&#8217; act in a
+porcelain lined three-off-and-draw-one parlor
+down on Seventh-ave. He was doin&#8217; it bad, too,&mdash;gettin&#8217;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268' name='page_268'></a>268</span>
+the orders mixed, and spillin&#8217; soup on
+the customers, and passin&#8217; out wrong checks,
+and havin&#8217; the boss worked up to the assassination
+point.</p>
+<p>But Hermy didn&#8217;t even know enough to be
+discouraged. He kept right on singsongin&#8217; out
+his orders down the shaft, as cheerful as you
+please: &#8220;Sausage and mashed, two on the
+wheats, one piece of punk, and two mince, and
+let &#8217;em come in a hurry! Silver!&#8221; You know
+how they do it in them C. B. &amp; Q. places? Yes,
+corned beef and cabbage joints. With sixty or
+seventy people in a forty by twenty-five room,
+and the dish washers slammin&#8217; crockery regardless,
+you got to holler out if you want the chef
+to hear. Hermy wa&#8217;n&#8217;t much on the shout, so
+he sang his orders. And it was this that gave
+Snick his pipedream.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now you know I&#8217;ve done more or less tra-la-la-work
+myself,&#8221; says he, &#8220;and the season
+I spent on the road as one of the merry villagers
+with an Erminie outfit put me wise to a few
+things. Course, this open air lecturing has
+spoiled my pipes for fair; but I&#8217;ve got my ear
+left, haven&#8217;t I? And say, Shorty, the minute
+I heard that voice of Hermy&#8217;s I knew he was
+the goods.&#8221;</p>
+<p>So what does he do but go back later, after
+the noon rush was over, and get Hermy to tell
+him the story of his life. It wa&#8217;n&#8217;t what you&#8217;d
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269' name='page_269'></a>269</span>
+call thrillin&#8217;. All there was to it was that
+Hermy was a double orphan who&#8217;d been brought
+up in Bridgeport, Conn., by an uncle who was a
+dancin&#8217; professor. The only thing that saved
+Hermy from a bench in the brass works was his
+knack for poundin&#8217; out twosteps and waltzes on
+the piano; but at that it seems he was such
+a soft head he couldn&#8217;t keep from watchin&#8217; the
+girls on the floor and striking wrong notes.
+Then there was trouble with uncle. Snick didn&#8217;t
+get the full details of the row, or what brought
+it to a head; but anyway Hermy was fired from
+the academy and fin&#8217;lly drifted to New York,
+where he&#8217;d been close up against the bread line
+ever since.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And when I found how he just naturally ate
+up music,&#8221; says Snick, &#8220;and how he&#8217;d had
+some training in a boy choir, and what a range
+he had, I says to him, &#8216;Hermy,&#8217; says I, &#8216;you
+come with me!&#8217; First I blows in ten good hard
+dollars getting a lawyer to draw up a contract.
+I thought it all out by myself; but I wanted the
+whereases put in right. And it&#8217;s a peach. It
+bound me to find board and lodging and provide
+clothes and incidentals for Hermy for the period
+of one year; and in consideration of which, and
+all that, I am to be the manager and sole business
+representative of said Hermy for the term
+of fifteen years from date, entitled to a fair
+and equal division of whatsoever profits, salary,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270' name='page_270'></a>270</span>
+or emoluments which may be received by the
+party of the second part, payable to me, my
+heirs, or assigns forever. And there I am,
+Shorty. I&#8217;ve done it! And I&#8217;m going to stay
+with it!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What!&#8221; says I. &#8220;You don&#8217;t mean to say
+you&#8217;ve invested a year&#8217;s board and lodgin&#8217; and
+expenses in&mdash;in that?&#8221; and I gazes once more
+at this hundred and eighty-pound wrist slapper,
+who is standin&#8217; there in front of the mirror
+pattin&#8217; down a stray lock.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s what I&#8217;ve done,&#8221; says Snick, shovin&#8217;
+his hands in his pockets and lookin&#8217; at the exhibit
+like he was proud of it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But how the&mdash;where in blazes did you get
+it?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Squeezed it out,&#8221; says Snick; &#8220;out of myself,
+too. And you know me. I always was as
+good to myself as other folks would let me. But
+all that had to be changed. It come hard, I
+admit, and it cost more&#8217;n I figured on. Why,
+some of his voice culture lessons set me back
+ten a throw. Think of that! He&#8217;s had &#8217;em,
+though. And me? Well, I&#8217;ve lived on one meal
+a day. I&#8217;ve done a double trick: on the wagon
+day times, night cashier in a drug store from
+nine till two a.m. I&#8217;ve cut out theaters, cigarettes,
+and drinks. I&#8217;ve made my old clothes
+last over, and I&#8217;ve pinched the dimes and nickels
+so hard my thumbprints would look like treasury
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271' name='page_271'></a>271</span>
+dies. But we&#8217;ve got the goods, Shorty.
+Hermy may be the mushiest, sappiest, hen
+brained specimen of a man you ever saw; but
+when it comes to being a high class grand opera
+barytone, he&#8217;s the kid! And little Percival here
+is his manager and has the power of attorney
+that will fix him for keeps if I know anything!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ye-e-es?&#8221; says I. &#8220;Reminds me some of
+the time when you was backin&#8217; Doughnut to
+win the Suburban. Recollect how hard you
+scraped to get the two-fifty you put down on
+Doughnut at thirty to one, and how hard you
+begged me to jump in and pull out a bale of
+easy money? Let&#8217;s see; did the skate finish
+tenth, or did he fall through the hole in his
+name?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, say!&#8221; says Snick. &#8220;Don&#8217;t go digging
+that up now. That was sport. This is straight
+business, on the level, and I ain&#8217;t asking you
+to put up a cent.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, what then?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>Would you guess it? He wants me to book
+Hermy for a private exhibition before some of
+my swell friends! All I&#8217;ve got to do is to persuade
+some of &#8217;em to give a little musicale, and
+then spring this nutmeg wonder on the box
+holdin&#8217; set without warnin&#8217;.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If he was a Russki with long hair,&#8221; says I,
+&#8220;or even a fiddlin&#8217; Czech, they might stand for
+it; but to ask &#8217;em to listen to a domestic unknown
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272' name='page_272'></a>272</span>
+from Bridgeport, Conn.&mdash;&mdash;I wouldn&#8217;t
+have the nerve, Snick. Why not take him
+around to the concert agencies first?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Bah!&#8221; says Snick. &#8220;Haven&#8217;t we worn out
+the settees in the agency offices? What do they
+know about good barytone voices? All they
+judge by is press clippings and lists of past engagements.
+Now, your people would know.
+He&#8217;d have &#8217;em going in two minutes, and they&#8217;d
+spread the news afterwards. Then we&#8217;d have
+the agents coming to us. See?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Course I couldn&#8217;t help gettin&#8217; int&#8217;rested in
+this long shot of Snick&#8217;s, even if I don&#8217;t take
+any stock in his judgment; but I tries to explain
+that while I mix more or less with classy folks,
+I don&#8217;t exactly keep their datebooks for &#8217;em, or
+provide talent for their after dinner stunts.</p>
+<p>That don&#8217;t head off Snick, though. He says
+I&#8217;m the only link between him and the set he
+wants to reach, and he just can&#8217;t take no for an
+answer. He says he&#8217;ll depend on me for a date
+for next Wednesday night.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why Wednesday?&#8221; says I. &#8220;Wouldn&#8217;t
+Thursday or Friday do as well?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; says he. &#8220;That&#8217;s Frenchy&#8217;s only
+night off from the café, and it&#8217;s his dress suit
+Hermy&#8217;s got to wear. It&#8217;ll be some tight across
+the back; but it&#8217;s the biggest one I can get the
+loan of without paying rent.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Well, I tells Snick I&#8217;ll see what can be done,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273' name='page_273'></a>273</span>
+and when I gets home I puts the problem up
+to Sadie. Maybe if she&#8217;d had a look at Hermy
+she&#8217;d taken more interest; but as it is she says
+she don&#8217;t see how I can afford to run the
+chances of handin&#8217; out a lemon, even if there
+was an op&#8217;nin&#8217;. Then again, so many of our
+friends were at Palm Beach just now, and those
+who&#8217;d come back were so busy givin&#8217; Lent
+bridge parties, that the chances of workin&#8217; in
+a dark horse barytone was mighty slim. She&#8217;d
+think it over, though, and see if maybe something
+can&#8217;t be done.</p>
+<p>So that&#8217;s the best I can give Snick when he
+shows up in the mornin&#8217;, and it was the same
+every day that week. I was kind of sorry for
+Snick, and was almost on the point of luggin&#8217;
+him and his discovery out to the house and
+askin&#8217; in a few of the neighbors, when Sadie
+tells me that the Purdy-Pells are back from
+Florida and are goin&#8217; to open their town house
+with some kind of happy jinks Wednesday night,
+and that we&#8217;re invited.</p>
+<p>Course, that knocks out my scheme. I&#8217;d
+passed the sad news on to Snick; and it was
+near noon Wednesday, when I&#8217;m called up on
+the &#8217;phone by Sadie. Seems that Mrs. Purdy-Pell
+had signed a lady harpist and a refined
+monologue artist to fill in the gap between coffee
+and bridge, and the lady harper had scratched
+her entry on account of a bad case of grip. So
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274' name='page_274'></a>274</span>
+couldn&#8217;t I find my friend Mr. Butters and get
+him to produce his singer? The case had been
+stated to Mrs. Purdy-Pell, and she was willin&#8217;
+to take the risk.</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right,&#8221; says I. &#8220;But it&#8217;s all up to her,
+don&#8217;t you forget.&#8221;</p>
+<p>With that I chases down to Madison Square,
+catches Snick just startin&#8217; out with a load of
+neck stretchers, gives him the number, and tells
+him to show up prompt at nine-thirty. And I
+wish you could have seen the joy that spread
+over his homely face. Even the store eye
+seemed to be sparklin&#8217; brighter&#8217;n ever.</p>
+<p>Was he there? Why, as we goes in to dinner
+at eight o&#8217;clock, I catches sight of him and
+Hermy holdin&#8217; down chairs in the reception
+room. Well, you know how they pull off them
+affairs. After they&#8217;ve stowed away about eleventeen
+courses, from grapefruit and sherry to
+demitasse and benedictine, them that can leave
+the table without wheel chairs wanders out
+into the front rooms, and the men light up fresh
+perfectos and hunt for the smokin&#8217; den, and
+the women get together in bunches and exchange
+polite knocks. And in the midst of all that some
+one drifts casually up to the concert grand and
+cuts loose. That was about the programme in
+this case.</p>
+<p>Hermy was all primed for his cue, and when
+Mrs. Purdy-Pell gives the nod I sees Snick push
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275' name='page_275'></a>275</span>
+him through the door, and in another minute
+the thing is on. The waiter&#8217;s uniform was a
+tight fit, all right; for it stretches across his
+shoulders like a drumhead. And the shirt studs
+wa&#8217;n&#8217;t mates, and the collar was one of them
+saw edged laundry veterans. But the general
+effect was good, and Hermy don&#8217;t seem to mind
+them trifles at all. He stands up there lookin&#8217;
+big and handsome, simpers and smiles around
+the room a few times, giggles a few at the young
+lady who&#8217;d volunteered to do the ivory punishing,
+and then fin&#8217;lly he gets under way with the
+Toreador song.</p>
+<p>As I say, when it comes to gems from Carmen,
+I&#8217;m no judge; but this stab of Hermy&#8217;s
+strikes me from the start as a mighty good attempt.
+He makes a smooth, easy get-away, and
+he strikes a swingin&#8217;, steady gait at the quarter,
+and when he comes to puttin&#8217; over the deep,
+rollin&#8217; chest notes I has feelin&#8217;s down under
+the first dinner layer like I&#8217;d swallowed a small
+thunder storm. Honest, when he fairly got
+down to business and hittin&#8217; it up in earnest, he
+had me on my toes, and by the look on Sadie&#8217;s
+face I knew that our friend Hermy was going
+some.</p>
+<p>But was all the others standin&#8217; around with
+their mouths open, drinkin&#8217; it in? Anything
+but! You see, some late comers had arrived,
+and they&#8217;d brought bulletins of something rich
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276' name='page_276'></a>276</span>
+and juicy that had just happened in the alimony
+crowd,&mdash;I expect the event will figure on the
+court calendars later,&mdash;and they&#8217;re so busy passin&#8217;
+on the details to willin&#8217; ears, that Hermy
+wa&#8217;n&#8217;t disturbin&#8217; &#8217;em at all. As a matter of
+fact, not one in ten of the bunch knew whether
+he was makin&#8217; a noise like a bullfighter or a
+line-up man.</p>
+<p>I can&#8217;t help takin&#8217; a squint around at Snick,
+who&#8217;s peekin&#8217; in through the draperies. And
+say, he&#8217;s all but tearin&#8217; his hair. It was tough,
+when you come to think of it. Here he&#8217;d put
+his whole stack of blues on this performance,
+and the audience wa&#8217;n&#8217;t payin&#8217; any more attention
+to it than to the rattle of cabs on the
+avenue.</p>
+<p>Hermy has most got to the final spasm, and
+it&#8217;s about all over, when, as a last straw, some
+sort of disturbance breaks out in the front hall.
+First off I thought it must be Snick Butters
+throwin&#8217; a fit; but then I hears a voice that ain&#8217;t
+his, and as I glances out I sees the Purdy-Pell
+butler havin&#8217; a rough house argument with a
+black whiskered gent in evenin&#8217; clothes and a
+Paris model silk lid. Course, everyone hears
+the rumpus, and there&#8217;s a grand rush, some to
+get away, and others to see what&#8217;s doin&#8217;.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let me in! I demand entrance! It must
+be!&#8221; howls the gent, while the butler tries to
+tell him he&#8217;s got to give up his card first.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277' name='page_277'></a>277</span></p>
+<p>And next thing I know Snick has lit on the
+butler&#8217;s back to pull him off, and the three are
+havin&#8217; a fine mix-up, when Mr. Purdy-Pell comes
+boltin&#8217; out, and I&#8217;ve just offered to bounce any
+of &#8217;em that he&#8217;ll point out, when all of a sudden
+he recognizes the party behind the brunette lambrequins.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why&mdash;why,&#8221; says he, &#8220;what does this
+mean, Mr. &mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Pardon,&#8221; says the gent, puffin&#8217; and pushin&#8217;
+to the front. &#8220;I intrude, yes? A thousand
+pardons. But I will explain. Next door I am
+dining&mdash;there is a window open&mdash;I hear that
+wonderful voice. Ah! that marvelous voice!
+Of what is the name of this artist? Yes? I
+demand! I implore! Ah, I must know instantly,
+sir!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Well, you know who it was. There&#8217;s only one
+grand opera Napoleon with black whiskers who
+does things in that way, and makes good every
+trip. It&#8217;s him, all right. And if he don&#8217;t know
+a barytone voice, who does?</p>
+<p>Inside of four minutes him and Hermy and
+Snick was bunched around the libr&#8217;y table, chewin&#8217;
+over the terms of the contract, and next
+season you&#8217;ll read the name of a new soloist in
+letters four foot high.</p>
+<p>Say, I was up to see Mr. Butters in his new
+suite of rooms at the St. Swithin, where it never
+rains but it pours. He&#8217;d held out for a big advance,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278' name='page_278'></a>278</span>
+and he&#8217;d got it. Also he&#8217;d invested part
+of it in some of the giddiest raiment them theatrical
+clothing houses can supply. While a
+manicure was busy puttin&#8217; a gloss finish on his
+nails, he has his Mongolian valet display the
+rest of his wardrobe, as far as he&#8217;d laid it in.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did I get let in wrong on the Hermy proposition,
+eh?&#8221; says he. &#8220;How about stayin&#8217; with
+your luck till it turns? Any reminder of the
+Doughnut incident in this? What?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Do I debate the subject? Not me! I just
+slaps Snick on the back and wishes him joy.
+If he wants to credit it all up to a rabbit&#8217;s foot,
+or a clover leaf, I&#8217;m willin&#8217; to let him. But
+say, from where I stand, it looks to me as if
+nerve and grit played some part in it.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XVIII_JOY_RIDING_WITH_AUNTY' id='XVIII_JOY_RIDING_WITH_AUNTY'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279' name='page_279'></a>279</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
+<h3>JOY RIDING WITH AUNTY</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Was I? Then I must have been thinking of
+Dyke Mallory. And say, I don&#8217;t know how you
+feel about it, but I figure that anybody who can
+supply me with a hang-over grin good for three
+days ain&#8217;t lived in vain. Whatever it&#8217;s worth,
+I&#8217;m on his books for just that much.</p>
+<p>I&#8217;ll admit, too, that this Dyckman chap ain&#8217;t
+apt to get many credits by the sweat of his
+brow or the fag of his brain. There&#8217;s plenty
+of folks would class him as so much plain nuisance,
+and I have it from him that his own
+fam&#8217;ly puts it even stronger. That&#8217;s one of his
+specialties, confidin&#8217; to strangers how unpop&#8217;lar
+he is at home. Why, he hadn&#8217;t been to the
+studio more&#8217;n twice, and I&#8217;d just got next to the
+fact that he was a son of Mr. Craig Mallory,
+and was suggestin&#8217; a quarterly account for
+him, when he gives me the warnin&#8217; signal.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t!&#8221; says he. &#8220;I draw my allowance
+the fifteenth, and unless you get it away from
+me before the twentieth you might as well tear
+up the bill. No use sending it to the pater,
+either. He&#8217;d renig.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280' name='page_280'></a>280</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Handing you a few practical hints along the
+economy line, eh?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Worse than that,&#8221; says Dyke. &#8220;It&#8217;s a
+part of my penance for being the Great Disappointment.
+The whole family is down on me.
+Guess you don&#8217;t know about my Aunt Elvira?&#8221;</p>
+<p>I didn&#8217;t, and there was no special reason why
+I should; but before I can throw the switch
+Dyke has got the deputy sheriff grip on the
+Mallorys&#8217; private skeleton and is holdin&#8217; him up
+and explainin&#8217; his anatomy.</p>
+<p>Now, from all I&#8217;d ever seen or heard, I&#8217;d
+always supposed Mr. Craig Mallory to be one
+of the safety vault crowd. Course, they live
+at Number 4 West; but that&#8217;s near enough to
+the avenue for one of the old fam&#8217;lies. And
+when you find a man who puts in his time as
+chairman of regatta committees, and judgin&#8217;
+hackneys, and actin&#8217; as vice president of a swell
+club, you&#8217;re apt to rate him in the seven figure
+bunch, at least. Accordin&#8217; to Duke, though, the
+Mallory income needed as much stretchin&#8217; as
+the pay of a twenty-dollar clothing clerk tryin&#8217;
+to live in a thirty-five dollar flat. And this is
+the burg where you can be as hard up on fifty
+thousand a year as on five hundred!</p>
+<p>The one thing the Mallorys had to look forward
+to was the time when Aunt Elvira would
+trade her sealskin sack for a robe of glory and
+loosen up on her real estate. She was near
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281' name='page_281'></a>281</span>
+seventy, Aunty was, and when she first went
+out to live at the old country place, up beyond
+Fort George, it was a good half-day&#8217;s trip down
+to 23d-st. But she went right on livin&#8217;, and
+New York kept right on growin&#8217;, and now she
+owns a cow pasture two blocks from a subway
+station, and raises potatoes on land worth a
+thousand dollars a front foot.</p>
+<p>Bein&#8217; of different tastes and habits, her and
+Brother Craig never got along together very
+well, and there was years when each of &#8217;em tried
+to forget that the other existed. When little
+Dyckman came, though, the frost was melted.
+She hadn&#8217;t paid any attention to the girls; but
+a boy was diff&#8217;rent. Never havin&#8217; had a son
+of her own to boss around and brag about, she
+took it out on Dyke. A nice, pious old lady,
+Aunt Elvira was; and the mere fact that little
+Dyke seemed to fancy the taste of a morocco
+covered New Testament she presented to him
+on his third birthday settled his future in her
+mind.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He shall be a Bishop!&#8221; says she, and hints
+that accordin&#8217; as Dyckman shows progress
+along that line she intends loadin&#8217; him up with
+worldly goods.</p>
+<p>Up to the age of fifteen, Dyke gives a fair
+imitation of a Bishop in the bud. He&#8217;s a light
+haired, pleasant spoken youth, who stands well
+with his Sunday school teacher and repeats passages
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282' name='page_282'></a>282</span>
+from the Psalms for Aunt Elvira when
+she comes down to inflict her annual visit.</p>
+<p>But from then on the bulletins wa&#8217;n&#8217;t so favor&#8217;ble.
+At the diff&#8217;rent prep. schools where
+he was tried out he appeared to be too much
+of a live one to make much headway with the
+dead languages. About the only subjects he led
+his class in was hazing and football and buildin&#8217;
+bonfires of the school furniture. Being expelled
+got to be so common with him that towards the
+last he didn&#8217;t stop to unpack his trunk.</p>
+<p>Not that these harrowin&#8217; details was passed
+on to Aunt Elvira. The Mallorys begun by
+doctorin&#8217; the returns, and they developed into
+reg&#8217;lar experts at the game of representin&#8217; to
+Aunty what a sainted little fellow Dyke was
+growin&#8217; to be. The more practice they got, the
+harder their imaginations was worked; for by
+the time Dyckman was strugglin&#8217; through his
+last year at college he&#8217;d got to be such a full
+blown hickey boy that he&#8217;d have been spotted
+for a sport in a blind asylum.</p>
+<p>So they had to invent one excuse after another
+to keep Aunt Elvira from seein&#8217; him, all
+the while givin&#8217; her tales about how he was soon
+to break into the divinity school; hoping, of
+course, that Aunty would get tired of waitin&#8217;
+and begin to unbelt.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They overdid it, that&#8217;s all,&#8221; says Dyke.
+&#8220;Healthy looking Bishop I&#8217;d make! What?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283' name='page_283'></a>283</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;You ain&#8217;t got just the style for a right
+reverend, that&#8217;s a fact,&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>Which wa&#8217;n&#8217;t any wild statement of the case,
+either. He&#8217;s a tall, loose jointed, slope shouldered
+young gent, with a long, narrow face, gen&#8217;rally
+ornamented by a cigarette; and he has his
+straw colored hair cut plush. His costume is
+neat but expensive,&mdash;double reefed trousers,
+wide soled shoes, and a green yodler&#8217;s hat with
+the bow on behind. He talks with the kind of
+English accent they pick up at New Haven, and
+when he&#8217;s in repose he tries to let on he&#8217;s so
+bored with life that he&#8217;s in danger of fallin&#8217;
+asleep any minute.</p>
+<p>Judgin&#8217; from Dyke&#8217;s past performances,
+though, there wa&#8217;n&#8217;t many somnolent hours in
+it. But in spite of all the trouble he&#8217;d got into,
+I couldn&#8217;t figure him out as anything more&#8217;n
+playful. Course, rough housin&#8217; in rathskellers
+until they called out the reserves, and turnin&#8217;
+the fire hose on a vaudeville artist from a box,
+and runnin&#8217; wild with a captured trolley car
+wa&#8217;n&#8217;t what you might call innocent boyishness;
+but, after all, there wa&#8217;n&#8217;t anything real vicious
+about Dyke.</p>
+<p>Playful states it. Give him a high powered
+tourin&#8217; car, with a bunch of eight or nine from
+the football squad aboard, and he liked to tear
+around the State of Connecticut burnin&#8217; the
+midnight gasolene and lullin&#8217; the villagers to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284' name='page_284'></a>284</span>
+sleep with the Boula-Boula song. Perfectly
+harmless fun&mdash;if the highways was kept clear.
+All the frat crowd said he was a good fellow,
+and it was a shame to bar him out from takin&#8217;
+a degree just on account of his layin&#8217; down on
+a few exams. But that&#8217;s what the faculty did,
+and the folks at home was wild.</p>
+<p>Dyke had been back and on the unclassified
+list for nearly a year now, and the prospects
+of his breakin&#8217; into the divinity school was
+growin&#8217; worse every day. He&#8217;d jollied Mr.
+Mallory into lettin&#8217; him have a little two-cylinder
+roadster, and his only real pleasure
+in life was when he could load a few old grads
+on the runnin&#8217; board and go off for a joy ride.</p>
+<p>But after the old man had spent the cost of
+a new machine in police court fines and repairs,
+even this little diversion was yanked away. The
+last broken axle had done the business, and the
+nearest Dyke could come to real enjoyment was
+when he had the price to charter a pink taxi
+and inspire the chauffeur with highballs enough
+so he&#8217;d throw her wide open on the way back.</p>
+<p>Not bein&#8217; responsible for Dyke, I didn&#8217;t mind
+having him around. I kind of enjoyed the cheerful
+way he had of tellin&#8217; about the fam&#8217;ly boycott
+on him, and every time I thinks of Aunt
+Elvira still havin&#8217; him framed up for a comer
+in the Bishop class, I has to smile.</p>
+<p>You see, having gone so far with their fairy
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285' name='page_285'></a>285</span>
+tales, the Mallorys never got a chance to hedge;
+and, accordin&#8217; to Dyke, they was all scared stiff
+for fear she&#8217;d dig up the facts some day, and
+make a new will leavin&#8217; her rentroll to the foreign
+missions society.</p>
+<p>Maybe it was because I took more or less
+interest in him, but perhaps it was just because
+he wanted company and I happened to be handy;
+anyway, here the other afternoon Dyke comes
+poundin&#8217; up the stairs two at a time, rushes
+into the front office, and grabs me by the arm.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come on, Shorty!&#8221; says he. &#8220;Something
+fruity is on the schedule.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hope it don&#8217;t taste like a lemon,&#8221; says I.
+&#8220;What&#8217;s the grand rush?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Aunt Elvira is coming down, and she&#8217;s
+called for me,&#8221; says Dyke, grinnin&#8217; wide.
+&#8220;She must suspect something; for she sent
+word that if I wasn&#8217;t on hand this time she&#8217;d
+never come again. What do you think of
+that?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Aunty&#8217;s got a treat in store for her, eh?&#8221;
+says I, givin&#8217; Dyke the wink.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I should gurgle!&#8221; says he. &#8220;I&#8217;m good and
+tired of this fake Bishop business, and if I don&#8217;t
+jolt the old lady out of that nonsense, I&#8217;m a
+duffer. You can help some, I guess. Come
+on.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Well, I didn&#8217;t exactly like the idea of mixin&#8217;
+up with a fam&#8217;ly surprise party like that; but
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286' name='page_286'></a>286</span>
+Dyke is so anxious for me to go along, and he
+gets me so curious to see what&#8217;ll happen at the
+reunion, that I fin&#8217;lly grabs my coat and hat,
+and out we trails.</p>
+<p>It seems that Aunt Elvira is due at the Grand
+Central. Never having tried the subway, she&#8217;s
+come to town just as she used to thirty years
+ago: drivin&#8217; to Kingsbridge station, and takin&#8217;
+a Harlem river local down. We finds the whole
+fam&#8217;ly, includin&#8217; Mr. and Mrs. Craig Mallory,
+and their two married daughters, waitin&#8217; outside
+the gates, with the gloom about &#8217;em so
+thick you&#8217;d almost think it was a sea turn.</p>
+<p>From the chilly looks they shot at Dyke you
+could tell just how they&#8217;d forecasted the result
+when Aunt Elvira got him all sized up; for,
+with his collar turned up and his green hat
+slouched, he looks as much like a divinity student
+as a bulldog looks like Mary&#8217;s lamb. And
+they can almost see them blocks of apartment
+houses bein&#8217; handed over to the heathen.</p>
+<p>As for Mr. Craig Mallory, he never so much
+as gives his only son a second glance, but turns
+his back and stands there, twistin&#8217; the ends of
+his close cropped gray mustache, and tryin&#8217; to
+look like he wa&#8217;n&#8217;t concerned at all. Good old
+sport, Craig,&mdash;one of the kind that can sit behind
+a pair of sevens and raise the opener out
+of his socks. Lucky for his nerves he didn&#8217;t
+have to wait long. Pretty soon in pulls the
+train, and the folks from Yonkers and Tarrytown
+begin to file past.</p>
+<div class='figcenter'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287' name='page_287'></a>287</span>
+<img src='images/illus-286.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 490px; height: 336px;' /><br />
+<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 490px;'>
+&#8220;<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Most of Auntie was obscured by the luggage she carries</span>&#8221;<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>&#8220;There she is!&#8221; whispers Dyke, givin&#8217; me
+the nudge. &#8220;That&#8217;s Aunt Elvira, with her bonnet
+on one ear.&#8221;</p>
+<p>It&#8217;s one of the few black velvet lids of the
+1869 model still in captivity, ornamented with
+a bunch of indigo tinted violets, and kept from
+bein&#8217; lost off altogether by purple strings tied
+under the chin. Most of the rest of Aunty was
+obscured by the hand luggage she carries, which
+includes four assorted parcels done up in wrappin&#8217;
+paper, and a big, brass wire cage holdin&#8217;
+a ragged lookin&#8217; gray parrot that was tryin&#8217; to
+stick his bill through the bars and sample the
+passersby.</p>
+<p>She&#8217;s a wrinkled faced, but well colored and
+hearty lookin&#8217; old girl, and the eyes that peeks
+out under the rim of the velvet lid is as keen
+and shrewd as a squirrel&#8217;s. Whatever else she
+might be, it was plain Aunt Elvira wa&#8217;n&#8217;t feeble
+minded. Behind her comes a couple of station
+porters, one cartin&#8217; an old-time black valise, and
+the other with his arms wrapped around a full
+sized featherbed in a blue and white tick.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gee!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Aunty carries her own
+scenery with her, don&#8217;t she?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s Bismarck in the cage,&#8221; says Dyke.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How Bizzy has changed!&#8221; says I. &#8220;But
+why the feather mattress?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288' name='page_288'></a>288</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;She won&#8217;t sleep on anything else,&#8221; says he.
+&#8220;Watch how pleased my sisters look. They
+just love this&mdash;not! But she insists on having
+the whole family here to meet her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>I must say for Mr. Mallory that he stood it
+well, a heavy swell like him givin&#8217; the glad hand
+in public to a quaint old freak like that. But
+Aunt Elvira don&#8217;t waste much time swappin&#8217;
+fam&#8217;ly greetin&#8217;s.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where is Dyckman?&#8221; says she, settin&#8217; her
+chin for trouble. &#8220;Isn&#8217;t he here?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes,&#8221; says Mr. Mallory. &#8220;Right over
+there,&#8221; and he points his cane handle to where
+Dyke and me are grouped on the side lines.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Here, hold Bismarck!&#8221; says Aunty, jammin&#8217;
+the brass cage into Mr. Mallory&#8217;s arm, and
+with that she pikes straight over to us. I never
+mistrusted she&#8217;d be in any doubt as to which
+was which, until I sees her look from one to
+the other, kind of waverin&#8217;. No wonder,
+though; for, from the descriptions she&#8217;d had,
+neither of us came up to the divinity student
+specifications. Yet it was something of a shock
+when she fixes them sharp old lamps on me
+and says:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Land to goodness! You?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Reverse!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Here&#8217;s the guilty
+party,&#8221; and I pushes Dyke to the front.</p>
+<p>She don&#8217;t gasp, or go up in the air, or throw
+any kind of a fit, like I expected. As she looks
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289' name='page_289'></a>289</span>
+him over careful, from the sporty hat to the wide
+soled shoes, I notices her eyes twinkle.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hum! I thought as much!&#8221; says she.
+&#8220;Craig always could lie easier than he could
+tell the truth. Young man, you don&#8217;t look to
+me like a person called to hold orders.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Glad of it, Aunty,&#8221; says Dyke, with a grin.
+&#8220;I don&#8217;t feel that way.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And you don&#8217;t look as if you had broken
+down your health studying for the ministry,
+either!&#8221; she goes on.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t mean to say they filled you up
+with that?&#8221; says Dyke. &#8220;Hee-haw!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Huh!&#8221; says Aunty. &#8220;It&#8217;s a joke, is it?
+At least you&#8217;re not afraid to tell the truth. I
+guess I want to have a little private talk with
+you. Who&#8217;s this other young man?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;This is Professor McCabe,&#8221; says Dyke.
+&#8220;He&#8217;s a friend of mine.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let him come along, too,&#8221; says Aunty.
+&#8220;Perhaps he can supply what you leave
+out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>And, say, the old girl knew what she wanted
+and when she wanted it, all right! There was
+no bunkoin&#8217; her out of it, either. Mr. Mallory
+leads her out to his brougham and does his best
+to shoo her in with him and Mrs. Mallory and
+away from Dyke; but it was no go.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I will ride up with Dyckman and his
+friend,&#8221; says she. &#8220;And I want to go in one
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290' name='page_290'></a>290</span>
+of those new automobile cabs I&#8217;ve heard so much
+about.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good! We&#8217;ll get one, Aunty,&#8221; says Dyke,
+and then he whispers in my ear, &#8220;Slip around
+the corner and call for Jerry Powers. Number
+439. He can make a taxi take hurdles and water
+jumps.&#8221;</p>
+<p>I don&#8217;t know whether it was luck or not, but
+Jerry was on the stand with the tin flag up,
+and inside of two minutes the three of us was
+stowed away inside, with the bag on top, and
+Dyke holdin&#8217; Bismarck in his lap.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now my featherbed,&#8221; says Aunt Elvira,
+and she has the porter jam it in alongside of
+me, which makes more or less of a full house.
+Then the procession starts, our taxi in the lead,
+the brougham second, and the married sisters
+trailin&#8217; behind in a hansom.</p>
+<p>&#8220;My sakes! but these things do ride easy!&#8221;
+says Aunty, settlin&#8217; back in her corner. &#8220;Can
+they go any faster, Dyckman?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just wait until we get straightened out on
+the avenue,&#8221; says Dyke, and tips me the roguish
+glance.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve ridden behind some fast horses in my
+time,&#8221; says the old lady; &#8220;so you can&#8217;t scare
+me. But now, Dyckman, I&#8217;d like to know exactly
+what you&#8217;ve been doing, and what you intend
+to do.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Well, Dyke starts in to unload the whole yarn,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291' name='page_291'></a>291</span>
+beginnin&#8217; by ownin&#8217; up that he&#8217;d scratched the
+Bishop proposition long ago. And he was
+statin&#8217; some of his troubles at college, when I
+gets a backward glimpse out of the side window
+at something that makes me sit up. First
+off I thought it was another snow storm with
+flakes bigger&#8217;n I&#8217;d ever seen before, and then I
+tumbles to the situation. It ain&#8217;t snow; it&#8217;s
+feathers. In jammin&#8217; that mattress into the
+taxi the tick must have had a hole ripped in it,
+and the part that was bulgin&#8217; through the opposite
+window was leakin&#8217; hen foliage to beat the
+cars.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hey!&#8221; says I, buttin&#8217; in on the confession
+and pointin&#8217; back. &#8220;We&#8217;re losin&#8217; part of our
+cargo.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Land sakes!&#8221; says Aunt Elvira, after one
+glance. &#8220;Stop! Stop!&#8221;</p>
+<p>At that Dyke pounds on the front glass for
+the driver to shut off the juice. But Jerry must
+have had Dyke out before, and maybe he mistook
+the signal. Anyway, the machine gives a
+groan and a jerk and we begins skimmin&#8217; along
+the asphalt at double speed. That don&#8217;t check
+the moltin&#8217; process any, and Dyke was gettin&#8217;
+real excited, when we hears a chuckle from Aunt
+Elvira.</p>
+<p>The old girl has got her eyes trained through
+the back window. Thanks to our speed and
+the stiff wind that&#8217;s blowin&#8217; down the avenue,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292' name='page_292'></a>292</span>
+the Mallory brougham, with the horses on the
+jump to keep up with us, is gettin&#8217; the full
+benefit of the feather storm. The dark green
+uniforms of the Mallory coachman and footman
+was being plastered thick, and they was both
+spittin&#8217; out feathers as fast as they could, and
+the Mallorys was wipin&#8217; &#8217;em out of their eyes
+and ears, and the crowds on the sidewalk has
+caught on and is enjoyin&#8217; the performance, and
+a mounted cop was starin&#8217; at us kind of puzzled,
+as if he was tryin&#8217; to decide whether or not we
+was breakin&#8217; an ordinance.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Look at Craig! Look at Mabel Ann!&#8221;
+snickers Aunt Elvira. &#8220;Tell your man to go
+faster, Dyckman. Push out more feathers!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;More feathers it is,&#8221; says I, shovin&#8217; another
+fold of the bed through the window. Even Bismarck
+gets excited and starts squawkin&#8217;.</p>
+<p>Talk about your joy rides! I&#8217;ll bet that&#8217;s the
+only one of the kind ever pulled off on Fifth-ave.
+And it near tickles the old girl to death.
+What was a featherbed to her, when she had
+her sportin&#8217; blood up and was gettin&#8217; a hunch
+in on Brother Craig and his wife?</p>
+<p>We goes four blocks before we shakes out the
+last of our ammunition, and by that time the
+Mallory brougham looks like a poultry wagon
+after a busy day at the market, while Aunt Elvira
+has cut loose with the mirth so hard that
+the velvet bonnet is hangin&#8217; under her chin, and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293' name='page_293'></a>293</span>
+Bismarck is out of breath. It&#8217;s a wonder we
+wa&#8217;n&#8217;t pinched for breakin&#8217; the speed laws; but
+the traffic cops is so busy watchin&#8217; the feather
+blizzard that they forgets to hold us up. Dyke
+wants to know if I&#8217;ll come in for a cup of tea,
+or ride back with Jerry.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thanks, but I&#8217;ll walk back,&#8221; says I, as we
+pulls up at the house. &#8220;Guess I can find the
+trail easy enough, eh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>I s&#8217;posed I&#8217;d get a report of the reunion from
+him next day; but it wa&#8217;n&#8217;t until this mornin&#8217;
+that he shows up here and drags me down to
+the curb to look at his new sixty-horse-power
+macadam burner.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Birthday present from Aunty,&#8221; says he.
+&#8220;Say, she&#8217;s all to the good, Shorty. She got
+over that Bishop idea months ago, all by herself.
+And what do you think? She says I&#8217;m to
+have a thousand a month, just to enjoy myself
+on. Whe-e-e! Can I do it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do it, son,&#8221; says I. &#8220;If you can&#8217;t, I don&#8217;t
+know who can.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XIX_TURNING_A_TRICK_FOR_BEANY' id='XIX_TURNING_A_TRICK_FOR_BEANY'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294' name='page_294'></a>294</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2>
+<h3>TURNING A TRICK FOR BEANY</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Where&#8217;d I collect the Flemish oak tint on muh
+noble br-r-r-ow? No, not sunnin&#8217; myself down
+to Coney Island. No such tinhorn stunt for me!
+This is the real plute color, this is, and I laid
+it on durin&#8217; a little bubble tour we&#8217;d been takin&#8217;
+through the breakfast doughnut zone.</p>
+<p>It was Pinckney&#8217;s blow. He ain&#8217;t had the
+gasolene-burnin&#8217; fever very hard until this summer;
+but when he does get it, he goes the limit,
+as usual. Course, he&#8217;s been off on excursions
+with his friends, and occasionally he&#8217;s chartered
+a machine by the day; but I&#8217;d never heard him
+talk of wantin&#8217; to own one. And then the first
+thing I knows he shows up at the house last
+Monday night in the tonneau of one of these big
+seven-seater road destroyers, all fitted out complete
+with spare shoes, hat box, and a double-decker
+trunk strapped on the rack behind.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gee!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Why didn&#8217;t you buy a
+private railroad train while you was about it,
+Pinckney?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Precisely what I thought I was getting,&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295' name='page_295'></a>295</span>
+says he. &#8220;However, I want you and Sadie to
+help me test it. We&#8217;ll start to-morrow morning
+at nine-thirty. Be all ready, will you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Got any idea where you&#8217;re going, or how
+long you&#8217;ll be gone?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing very definite,&#8221; says he. &#8220;Purdy-Pell
+suggested the shore road to Boston and
+back through the Berkshires.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fine!&#8221; says I. &#8220;I&#8217;d love to go meanderin&#8217;
+through the country with you from now until
+Christmas; but sad to say I&#8217;ve got one or
+two&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Renée tells me we can make it in four
+days,&#8221; says Pinckney, nodding at the chauffeur.
+&#8220;He&#8217;s been over the route a dozen times.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Well, I puts the proposition up to Sadie, expectin&#8217;
+she&#8217;d queer it first jump; but inside of
+ten minutes she&#8217;d planned out just how she
+could leave little Sully, and what she should
+wear, and it&#8217;s all fixed. I tried to show her
+where I couldn&#8217;t afford to quit the studio for
+two or three weeks, just at this time of year,
+when so many of my reg&#8217;lars need tunin&#8217; up
+after their vacations; but my arguments don&#8217;t
+carry much weight.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Rubbish, Shorty!&#8221; says she. &#8220;We&#8217;ll be
+back before the end of the week, and Swifty Joe
+can manage until then. Anyway, we&#8217;re not going
+to miss this lovely weather. We&#8217;re going,
+that&#8217;s all!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296' name='page_296'></a>296</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; says I to Pinckney, &#8220;I&#8217;ve decided
+to go.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Now this ain&#8217;t any lightnin&#8217; conductor rehash.
+Bubble tourin&#8217; has its good points, and it has
+its drawbacks, too. If you&#8217;re willin&#8217; to take
+things as they come along, and you&#8217;re travelin&#8217;
+with the right bunch, and your own disposition&#8217;s
+fair to middlin&#8217;, why, you can have a bang up
+time, just like you could anywhere with the same
+layout. Also, I&#8217;m willin&#8217; to risk an encore to
+this partic&#8217;lar trip any time I get the chance.</p>
+<p>But there was something else I was gettin&#8217; at.
+It don&#8217;t turn up until along durin&#8217; the afternoon
+of our second day out. We was tearin&#8217;
+along one of them new tar roads between Narragansett
+Pier and Newport, and I was tryin&#8217;
+to hand a josh to Renée by askin&#8217; him to be sure
+and tell me when we went through Rhode Island,
+as I wanted to take a glance at it,&mdash;for we must
+have been hittin&#8217; fifty an hour, with the engine
+runnin&#8217; as smooth and sweet as a French clock,&mdash;when
+all of a sudden there&#8217;s a bang like
+bustin&#8217; a paper bag, and we feels the car sag
+down on one side.</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Sacré!</i>&#8221; says Renée through his front
+teeth.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ha, ha!&#8221; sings out Pinckney. &#8220;My first
+blow-out!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Glad you feel so happy over it,&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>It&#8217;s a sensation that don&#8217;t bring much joy, as
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297' name='page_297'></a>297</span>
+a rule. Here you are, skimmin&#8217; along through
+the country, glancin&#8217; at things sort of casual,
+same&#8217;s you do from a Pullman window, but not
+takin&#8217; any int&#8217;rest in the scenery except in a
+general way, only wonderin&#8217; now and then how
+it is people happen to live in places so far away.</p>
+<p>And then all in a minute the scenery ain&#8217;t
+movin&#8217; past you at all. It stops dead in its
+tracks, like when the film of a movin&#8217; picture
+machine gets tangled up, and there&#8217;s only one
+partic&#8217;lar scene to look at. It&#8217;s mighty curious,
+too, how quick that special spot loses its charm.
+Also, as a gen&#8217;ral rule, such things happen just
+at the wrong spot in the road. Now we&#8217;d been
+sailin&#8217; along over a ridge, where we could look
+out across Narragansett Bay for miles; but here
+where our tire had gone on the blink was a kind
+of dip down between the hills, with no view
+at all.</p>
+<p>First off we all has to pile out and get in
+Renée&#8217;s way while he inspects the damage. It&#8217;s
+a blow-out for fair, a hole big enough to lay
+your two hands in, right across the tread, where
+we&#8217;d picked up a broken bottle, or maybe a cast
+horseshoe with the nails in it. Then, while he
+proceeds to get busy with the jack and tire irons,
+we all makes up our minds to a good long wait;
+for when you tackle one of them big boys, with
+the rims rusted in, it ain&#8217;t any fifteen-minute
+picnic, you know.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_298' name='page_298'></a>298</span></p>
+<p>Course, Pinckney gets out his fireless bottles
+and the glasses and improves the time by
+handin&#8217; around somethin&#8217; soothin&#8217; or cheerin&#8217;,
+accordin&#8217; to taste. Not bein&#8217; thirsty, I begins
+inspectin&#8217; the contagious scenery. It wa&#8217;n&#8217;t
+anything an artist would yearn to paint. Just
+back from the road is a sort of shack that looks
+as though someone might be campin&#8217; out in it,
+and behind that a mess of rough sheds and
+chicken coops.</p>
+<p>Next I discovers that the object down in the
+field which I&#8217;d taken for a scarecrow was a live
+man. By the motions he&#8217;s goin&#8217; through, he&#8217;s
+diggin&#8217; potatoes, and from the way he sticks
+to it, not payin&#8217; any attention to us, it seems
+as if he found it a mighty int&#8217;restin&#8217; pastime.
+You&#8217;d most think, livin&#8217; in an out of the way,
+forsaken place like that, that most any native
+would be glad to stop work long enough to look
+over a hot lookin&#8217; bunch like ours.</p>
+<p>This one don&#8217;t seem inclined that way, though.
+He keeps his back bent and his head down
+and his hands busy. Now, whenever I&#8217;ve
+been out in a machine, and we&#8217;ve had any kind
+of trouble, there&#8217;s always been a gawpin&#8217; committee
+standin&#8217; around, composed of every human
+being in sight at the time of the casualty,
+includin&#8217; a few that seemed to pop up out of
+the ground. But here&#8217;s a case where the only
+party that can act as an audience ain&#8217;t doin&#8217; his
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_299' name='page_299'></a>299</span>
+duty. So a fool freak hits me to stroll over and
+poke him up.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hey, you!&#8221; says I, vaultin&#8217; the fence.</p>
+<p>He jerks his head up a little at that, kind of
+stares in my direction, and then dives into another
+hill of spuds.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Huh!&#8221; thinks I. &#8220;Don&#8217;t want any city
+folks in his&#8217;n, by chowder! But here&#8217;s where
+he gets &#8217;em thrust on him!&#8221; and I pikes over
+for a closer view. Couldn&#8217;t see much, though,
+but dirty overalls, blue outing shirt, and an old
+haymaker&#8217;s straw hat with a brim that lops
+down around his face and ears.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Excuse me,&#8221; says I; &#8220;but ain&#8217;t you missin&#8217;
+a trick, or is it because you don&#8217;t feel sociable
+to-day? How&#8217;re the murphies pannin&#8217; out this
+season?&#8221;</p>
+<p>To see the start he gives, you&#8217;d think I&#8217;d crept
+up from behind and swatted him one. He
+straightens up, backs off a step or two, and
+opens his mouth. &#8220;Why&mdash;why&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; says he,
+after one or two gasps. &#8220;Who are you,
+please?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Me?&#8221; says I. &#8220;Oh, I&#8217;m just a stray
+stranger. I was being shot through your cunnin&#8217;
+little State on a no-stop schedule, when one
+of our tires went out of business. Hence this
+informal call.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But,&#8221; says he, hesitatin&#8217; and pushin&#8217; back
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_300' name='page_300'></a>300</span>
+the hat brim, &#8220;isn&#8217;t this&mdash;er&mdash;aren&#8217;t you Professor
+McCabe?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Say, then it was my turn to do the open face
+act! Course, knockin&#8217; around as much as I have
+and rubbin&#8217; against so many diff&#8217;rent kinds of
+folks, I&#8217;m liable to run across people that know
+me anywhere; but blamed if I expected to do it
+just walkin&#8217; out accidental into a potato
+orchard.</p>
+<p>Sure enough, too, there was something familiar
+about that long thin nose and the droopy
+mouth corners; but I couldn&#8217;t place him. Specially
+I&#8217;d been willin&#8217; to pass my oath I&#8217;d never
+known any party that owned such a scatterin&#8217;
+crop of bleached face herbage as he was sportin&#8217;.
+It looked like bunches of old hay on the
+side of a hill. The stary, faded out blue eyes
+wa&#8217;n&#8217;t just like any I could remember, either,
+and I&#8217;m gen&#8217;rally strong on that point.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve called my number, all right,&#8221; says
+I; &#8220;but, as for returnin&#8217; the compliment,
+you&#8217;ve got me going, neighbor. How do you
+think I&#8217;m looking?&#8221;</p>
+<p>He makes a weak stab at springin&#8217; a smile,
+about the ghastliest attempt at that sort of
+thing I ever watched, and then he shrugs his
+shoulders. &#8220;I&mdash;I couldn&#8217;t say about your
+looks,&#8221; says he. &#8220;I recognized you by your
+voice. Perhaps you won&#8217;t remember me at
+all. I&#8217;m Dexter Bean.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_301' name='page_301'></a>301</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;What!&#8221; says I. &#8220;Not Beany, that used
+to do architectin&#8217; on the top floor over the
+studio?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; says he.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And you&#8217;ve forgot my mug so soon?&#8221;
+says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no!&#8221; says he, speakin&#8217; up quick. &#8220;I
+haven&#8217;t forgotten. But I can&#8217;t see very well
+now, you know. In fact, I&mdash;I&#8217;m&mdash;&mdash; Well,
+it&#8217;s almost night time with me, Shorty,&#8221; and
+by the way he chokes up I can tell how hard it
+is for him to get out even that much.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t mean,&#8221; says I, &#8220;that&mdash;that
+you&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>He nods, puts his hands up to his face, and
+turns his head for a minute.</p>
+<p>Well, say, I&#8217;ve had lumps come in my throat
+once in a while before on some account or other;
+but I never felt so much like I&#8217;d swallowed a
+prize punkin as I did just then. Most night
+time! Course, you hear of lots of cases, and
+you know there&#8217;s asylums where such people
+are taken care of and taught to weave cane bottoms
+for chairs; but I tell you when you get
+right up against such a case, a party you&#8217;ve
+known and liked, and it&#8217;s handed to you sudden
+that he&#8217;s almost in the stick tappin&#8217; class&mdash;well,
+it&#8217;s apt to get you hard. I know it did
+me. Why, I didn&#8217;t know any more what to do
+or say than a goat. But it was my next.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_302' name='page_302'></a>302</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, well, Beany, old boy!&#8221; says I, slidin&#8217;
+an arm across his shoulder. &#8220;This is all news
+to me. Let&#8217;s get over in the shade and talk
+this thing over.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;I&#8217;d like to, Shorty,&#8221; says he.</p>
+<p>So we camps down under a tree next to the
+fence, and he gives me the story. As he talks,
+too, it all comes back to me about the first time
+some of them boys from up stairs towed him
+down to the studio. He&#8217;d drifted in from some
+Down East crossroads, where he&#8217;d taken a
+course in mechanical drawin&#8217; and got the idea
+that he was an architect. And a greener Rube
+than him I never expect to see. It was a wonder
+some milliner hadn&#8217;t grabbed him and
+sewed him on a hat before he got to 42d-st.</p>
+<p>Maybe that gang of T Square sports didn&#8217;t
+find him entertainin&#8217;, too. Why, he swallowed
+all the moldy old bunk yarns they passed over,
+and when they couldn&#8217;t hold in any longer, and
+just let loose the hee-haws, he took it good
+natured, springin&#8217; that kind of sad smile of his
+on &#8217;em, and not even gettin&#8217; red around the
+ears. So the boss set him to sweepin&#8217; the
+floors and tendin&#8217; the blueprint frames on the
+roof.</p>
+<p>That&#8217;s the way he broke in. Then a few
+months later, when they had a rush of contracts,
+they tried him out on some detail work.
+But his drawin&#8217; was too ragged. He was so
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_303' name='page_303'></a>303</span>
+good natured, though, and so willin&#8217; to do anything
+for anybody, that they kept him around,
+mainly to spring new gags on, so far as I
+could see.</p>
+<p>It wa&#8217;n&#8217;t until he got at some house plans
+by accident that they found out where he fitted
+in. He&#8217;d go over a set of them puzzle rolls
+that mean as much to me as a laundry ticket,
+and he&#8217;d point out where there was room for
+another clothes closet off some chamber here,
+and a laundry chute there, and how the sink in
+the butler&#8217;s pantry was on the wrong side for a
+right handed dish washer, and a lot of little
+details that nobody else would think of unless
+they&#8217;d lived in just such a house for six months
+or so. Beany the Home Expert, they called him
+after that, and before any house plans was
+O. K.&#8217;d by the boss he had to revise &#8217;em.</p>
+<p>Then he got to hangin&#8217; round the studio after
+hours, helpin&#8217; Swifty Joe clean up and listenin&#8217;
+to his enlightenin&#8217; conversation. It takes a
+mighty talented listener to get Swifty started;
+but when he does get his tongue once limbered
+up, and is sure of his audience, he enjoys nothin&#8217;
+like givin&#8217; off his views in wholesale lots.</p>
+<p>As for me, I never said a whole lot to Beany,
+nor him to me; but I couldn&#8217;t help growin&#8217; to
+like the cuss, because he was one of them gentle,
+quiet kind that you cotton to without knowin&#8217;
+exactly why. Not that I missed him a lot when
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_304' name='page_304'></a>304</span>
+he disappeared. Fact was, he just dropped out,
+and I don&#8217;t know as I even asked what had become
+of him.</p>
+<p>I was hearin&#8217; now, though. It wa&#8217;n&#8217;t any
+great tragedy, to start with. Some of the boys
+got skylarkin&#8217; one lunch hour, and Beany was
+watchin&#8217; &#8217;em, when a lead paper weight he was
+holdin&#8217; slipped out of his hand, struck the end
+of a ruler, and flipped it up into his face. A
+sharp corner hit him in the eye, that&#8217;s all. He
+had the sore peeper bound up for three or four
+days before he took it to a hospital.</p>
+<p>When he didn&#8217;t show up again they wondered
+some, and one of the firm inquired for him at his
+old boardin&#8217; place. You know how it is in town.
+There&#8217;s so many comin&#8217; and goin&#8217; that it&#8217;s hard
+to keep track of &#8217;em all. So Beany just faded
+out.</p>
+<p>He told me that when the hospital doctor put
+it to him flat how bad off his bum lamp was, and
+how the other was due to go the same way, he
+just started out and walked aimless for two
+days and nights, hardly stoppin&#8217;. Then he
+steadied down, pulled himself together, and
+mapped out a plan.</p>
+<p>Besides architectin&#8217;, all he knew how to do
+was to raise chickens. He figured that if he
+could get a little place off where land was cheap,
+and get the hang of it well in his head before
+his glim was doused altogether, he might worry
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_305' name='page_305'></a>305</span>
+along. He couldn&#8217;t bear to think of goin&#8217; back
+to his old home, or hangin&#8217; around among
+strangers until he had to be herded into one of
+them big brick barracks. He wanted to be alone
+and outdoors.</p>
+<p>He had a few dollars with him that he&#8217;d saved
+up, and when he struck this little sand plot,
+miles from anywhere, he squat right down on
+it, built his shack, got some settin&#8217; hens, and
+prepared for a long siege in the dark. One eye
+was all to the bad already, and the other was
+beginnin&#8217; to grow dim. Nice cheerful proposition
+to wake up to every mornin&#8217;, wa&#8217;n&#8217;t it?</p>
+<p>Does Beany whine any in tellin&#8217; it, though?
+Never a whimper! Gets off his little jokes on
+himself about the breaks he makes cookin&#8217; his
+meals, such as sweetenin&#8217; his coffee out of the
+salt bag, and bitin&#8217; into a cake of bar soap,
+thinkin&#8217; it was a slice of the soggy bread he&#8217;d
+make. Keeps his courage up, too, by trying to
+think that maybe livin&#8217; outdoors and improvin&#8217;
+his health will help him get back his sight.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sure I am some better already,&#8221; says
+he. &#8220;For months all I could see out of my left
+eye was purple and yellow and blue rings. Now
+I don&#8217;t see those at all.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That so?&#8221; says I, battin&#8217; my head for some
+come-back that would fit. &#8220;Why&mdash;er&mdash;I should
+think you&#8217;d miss &#8217;em, Beany.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Brilliant, wa&#8217;n&#8217;t it? But Beany throws back
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_306' name='page_306'></a>306</span>
+his head and lets out the first real laugh he&#8217;s
+indulged in for over a year.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, hardly that,&#8221; says he. &#8220;I don&#8217;t care
+about carrying my rainbows around with me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But look here, Beany,&#8221; says I. &#8220;You
+can&#8217;t stay here doin&#8217; the poultry hermit act.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s the only thing I&#8217;m fit for,&#8221; says he;
+&#8220;so I must.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then you&#8217;ve got to let us send you a few
+things occasionally,&#8221; says I. &#8220;I&#8217;ll look up
+your old boss and&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, no!&#8221; says he. &#8220;I&#8217;m getting along
+all right. I&#8217;ve been a little lonesome; but I&#8217;ll
+pull through.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You ought to be doin&#8217; some doctorin&#8217;,
+though,&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>He shrugs his shoulders again and waves one
+hand. &#8220;What&#8217;s the use?&#8221; says he. &#8220;They
+told me at the hospital there wasn&#8217;t any help.
+No, I&#8217;ll just stay here and plug it out by myself.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Talk about clear grit, eh! And maybe you
+can frame up my feelin&#8217;s when he insists there
+ain&#8217;t a thing I can do for him. About then, too,
+I hears &#8217;em shoutin&#8217; from the car for me to
+come along, as they&#8217;re all ready to start again.
+So all I does is swap grips with Beany, get off
+some fool speech about wishin&#8217; him luck, and
+leave him standin&#8217; there in the potato field.</p>
+<p>Somehow I didn&#8217;t enjoy the rest of that day&#8217;s
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_307' name='page_307'></a>307</span>
+run very much, and when they jollies me by
+askin&#8217; who&#8217;s my scarecrow acquaintance I
+couldn&#8217;t work myself up to tellin&#8217; &#8217;em about
+him. But all I could think of was Beany back
+there pokin&#8217; around alone in the fog that was
+settlin&#8217; down thicker and thicker every day.
+And in the course of two or three hours I had a
+thought.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Pinckney,&#8221; says I, as we was puttin&#8217; up in
+Newport, &#8220;you know all sorts of crackerjacks.
+Got any expert eye doctors on your list?&#8221;</p>
+<p>He chews that over a minute or so, and concludes
+that he has, a Dr. Jason Craige, who&#8217;s
+right here in town.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s the real thing, is he?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Most skillful oculist in the country,&#8221; says
+Pinckney, &#8220;and charges accordingly.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;As high as fifty a throw?&#8221; says I.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fifty!&#8221; says Pinckney. &#8220;You should see
+his Cliff Walk cottage.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let&#8217;s,&#8221; says I. &#8220;There&#8217;s a friend of mine
+I&#8217;d like to have him take a look at to-morrow.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No use,&#8221; says Pinckney. &#8220;He drops his
+practice entirely during his vacation; wouldn&#8217;t
+treat an Emperor then, I&#8217;ve heard him say.
+He&#8217;s a good deal of a crank on that&mdash;and
+billiards.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But see here, Pinckney,&#8221; says I, and I goes
+on to give him the whole tale about Beany,
+puttin&#8217; it over as strong as I knew how.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_308' name='page_308'></a>308</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Sorry,&#8221; says Pinckney; &#8220;but I know of no
+way in which I could induce him to change his
+custom. He&#8217;s Scotch, you know, and as obstinate
+as&mdash;&mdash; Hold on, Shorty! I&#8217;ve an idea.
+How strong will you back my game of billiards?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Now of all the erratic cue performers I ever
+watched, Pinckney gets the medal. There&#8217;s
+times when he can nurse &#8217;em along the cushion
+and run up quite a string, and then again I&#8217;ve
+seen him play a game any duffer&#8217;d be ashamed
+of. But I begins to smell out his scheme.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If it means a chance for Beany,&#8221; says I,
+&#8220;I&#8217;ll bid good-by to five twenties and let you
+do your worst.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A wager of that sort would tempt Craige,
+if anything would,&#8221; says Pinckney. &#8220;We&#8217;ll
+try it on, anyway.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Whether it was the bluff Pinckney threw, or
+the insultin&#8217; way he suggests that the Doc don&#8217;t
+dare take him up, I can&#8217;t say. All I know is
+that inside of half an hour we was in Jason
+Craige&#8217;s private billiard room, him and Pinckney
+peeled down to their shirts, and at it.</p>
+<p>As a rule I could go to sleep watchin&#8217; the best
+three-ball carom game ever played; but durin&#8217;
+this contest I holds the marker&#8217;s stick and never
+misses a move. First off Pinckney plays about
+as skillful as a trained pig practicin&#8217; on the
+piano; but after four or five minutes of punk
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_309' name='page_309'></a>309</span>
+exhibition he takes a brace and surprises himself.</p>
+<p>No need going into details. Pinckney wins
+out, and the Doc slams his cue into the rack
+with some remark about producin&#8217; the charity
+patient to-morrow. Did I? I routs Renée out
+at daylight next mornin&#8217;, has him make a fifty-mile
+run at Vanderbilt Cup speed, and we has
+Beany in the eye expert&#8217;s lib&#8217;ry before he comes
+down for breakfast.</p>
+<p>It takes Dr. Craige less&#8217;n three minutes to
+discover that the hospital hand who told Beany
+he was bound to lose both lamps was a fat
+brained nut who&#8217;d be more useful drivin&#8217; an
+ashcart. The Doc lays Beany out on a leather
+couch, uses a little cocaine in the right place,
+monkeys around a minute or so with some shiny
+hardware, and announces that after he&#8217;s laid up
+for twenty-four hours in a dark room, usin&#8217; the
+wash reg&#8217;lar, he&#8217;ll be able to see as well as any
+of us.</p>
+<p>It&#8217;s a fact, too; for Beany goes back on his
+old job next Monday mornin&#8217;.</p>
+<p>&#8220;By Jove!&#8221; says Pinckney, after the trick
+is turned. &#8220;A miracle, Craige!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Miracle be blowed!&#8221; says the Doc. &#8220;You
+accomplished the miracle last night, Pinckney,
+when you ran thirty-two buttons on scratch
+hits.&#8221;</p>
+<div class='ce'>
+<p>THE END</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<div class='ce'>
+<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>THE NOVELS OF</p>
+<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON</p>
+<div style='margin-top:1em'></div>
+<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap&#8217;s list.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>GRAUSTARK. Illustrated with Scenes from the Play.</p>
+<p>With the appearance of this novel, the author introduced a new
+type of story and won for himself a perpetual reading public. It
+is the story of love behind a throne in a new and strange country.</p>
+<p>BEVERLY OF GRAUSTARK. Illustrations by Harrison Fisher.</p>
+<p>This is a sequel to &#8220;Graustark.&#8221; A bewitching American girl
+visits the little principality and there has a romantic love affair.</p>
+<p>PRINCE OF GRAUSTARK. Illustrations by A. I. Keller.</p>
+<p>The Prince of Graustark is none other than the son of the heroine
+of &#8220;Graustark.&#8221; Beverly&#8217;s daughter, and an American multimillionaire
+with a brilliant and lovely daughter also figure in the
+story.</p>
+<p>BREWSTER&#8217;S MILLIONS.</p>
+<p>Illustrated with Scenes from the Photo-Play.</p>
+<p>A young man, required to spend one million dollars in one year,
+in order to inherit <i>seven</i>, accomplishes the task in this lively story.</p>
+<p>COWARDICE COURT.</p>
+<p>Illus. by Harrison Fisher and decorations by Theodore Hapgood.</p>
+<p>A romance of love and adventure, the plot forming around a
+social feud in the Adirondacks in which an English girl is tempted
+into being a traitor by a romantic young American.</p>
+<p>THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND. Illustrated by A. I. Keller.</p>
+<p>A story of modern New York, built around an ancient enmity,
+born of the scorn of the aristocrat for one of inferior birth.</p>
+<p>WHAT&#8217;S-HIS-NAME. Illustrations by Harrison Fisher.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s-His-Name&#8221; is the husband of a beautiful and popular
+actress who is billboarded on Broadway under an assumed name.
+The very opposite manner in which these two live their lives brings
+a dramatic climax to the story.</p>
+<div class='ce' style=' font-size:0.8em;'>
+<p><i>Ask for Complete free list of G. &amp; D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction</i></p>
+<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Grosset &amp; Dunlap, Publishers, New York</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<div class='ce'>
+<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>ZANE GREY&#8217;S NOVELS</p>
+<div style='margin-top:1em'></div>
+<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset &amp; Dunlap&#8217;s list</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS</p>
+<p>A New York society girl buys a ranch which becomes the center of frontier warfare.
+Her loyal superintendent rescues her when she is captured by bandits. A
+surprising climax brings the story to a delightful close.</p>
+<p>THE RAINBOW TRAIL</p>
+<p>The story of a young clergyman who becomes a wanderer in the great western
+uplands&mdash;until at last love and faith awake.</p>
+<p>DESERT GOLD</p>
+<p>The story describes the recent uprising along the border, and ends with the finding
+of the gold which two prospectors had willed to the girl who is the story&#8217;s heroine.</p>
+<p>RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE</p>
+<p>A picturesque romance of Utah of some forty years ago when Mormon authority
+ruled. The prosecution of Jane Withersteen is the theme of the story.</p>
+<p>THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN</p>
+<p>This is the record of a trip which the author took with Buffalo Jones, known as the
+<i>preserver of the American bison, across the Arizona desert and of a hunt in</i> &#8220;that
+wonderful country of deep canons and giant pines.&#8221;</p>
+<p>THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT</p>
+<p>A lovely girl, who has been reared among Mormons, learns to love a young New
+Englander. The Mormon religion, however, demands that the girl shall become
+the second wife of one of the Mormons&mdash;Well, that&#8217;s the problem of this great story.</p>
+<p>THE SHORT STOP</p>
+<p>The young hero, tiring of his factory grind, starts out to win fame and fortune as
+a professional ball player. His hard knocks at the start are followed by such success
+as clean sportsmanship, courage and honesty ought to win.</p>
+<p>BETTY ZANE</p>
+<p>This story tells of the bravery and heroism of Betty, the beautiful young sister of
+old Colonel Zane, one of the bravest pioneers.</p>
+<p>THE LONE STAR RANGER</p>
+<p>After killing a man in self defense, Buck Duane becomes an outlaw along the
+Texas border. In a camp on the Mexican side of the river, he finds a young girl held
+prisoner, and in attempting to rescue her, brings down upon himself the wrath of her
+captors and henceforth is hunted on one side by honest men, on the other by outlaws.</p>
+<p>THE BORDER LEGION</p>
+<p>Joan Randle, in a spirit of anger, sent Jim Cleve out to a lawless Western mining
+camp, to prove his mettle. Then realizing that she loved him&mdash;she followed him out.
+On her way, she is captured by a bandit band, and trouble begins when she shoots
+Kells, the leader&mdash;and nurses him to health again. Here enters another romance&mdash;when
+Joan, disguised as an outlaw, observes Jim, in the throes of dissipation. A gold
+strike, a thrilling robbery&mdash;gambling and gun play carry you along breathlessly.</p>
+<p>THE LAST OF THE GREAT SCOUTS,</p>
+<p>By Helen Cody Wetmore and Zane Grey</p>
+<p>The life story of Colonel William F. Cody, &#8220;Buffalo Bill,&#8221; as told by his sister and
+Zane Grey. It begins with his boyhood in Iowa and his first encounter with an Indian.
+We see &#8220;Bill&#8221; as a pony express rider, then near Fort Sumter as Chief of
+the Scouts, and later engaged in the most dangerous Indian campaigns. There is
+also a very interesting account of the travels of &#8220;The Wild West&#8221; Show. No character
+in public life makes a stronger appeal to the imagination of America than
+&#8220;Buffalo Bill,&#8221; whose daring and bravery made him famous</p>
+<div class='ce'>
+<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>Grosset &amp; Dunlap, Publishers, New York</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<div class='ce'>
+<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>B. M. Bower&#8217;s Novels</p>
+<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>Thrilling Western Romances</p>
+<div style='margin-top:1em'></div>
+<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>Large 12 mos. Handsomely bound in cloth. Illustrated</p>
+<div style='margin-top:1em'></div>
+</div>
+
+<p>CHIP, OF THE FLYING U</p>
+<p>A breezy wholesome tale, wherein the love affairs of Chip and
+Delia Whitman are charmingly and humorously told. Chip&#8217;s
+jealousy of Dr. Cecil Grantham, who turns out to be a big, blue
+eyed young woman is very amusing. A clever, realistic story of
+the American Cow-puncher.</p>
+<p>THE HAPPY FAMILY</p>
+<p>A lively and amusing story, dealing with the adventures of
+eighteen jovial, big hearted Montana cowboys. Foremost amongst
+them, we find Ananias Green, known as Andy, whose imaginative
+powers cause many lively and exciting adventures.</p>
+<p>HER PRAIRIE KNIGHT</p>
+<p>A realistic story of the plains, describing a gay party of Easterners
+who exchange a cottage at Newport for the rough homeliness
+of a Montana ranch-house. The merry-hearted cowboys, the
+fascinating Beatrice, and the effusive Sir Redmond, become living,
+breathing personalities.</p>
+<p>THE RANGE DWELLERS</p>
+<p>Here are everyday, genuine cowboys, just as they really exist.
+Spirited action, a range feud between two families, and a Romeo
+and Juliet courtship make this a bright, jolly, entertaining story,
+without a dull page.</p>
+<p>THE LURE OF DIM TRAILS</p>
+<p>A vivid portrayal of the experience of an Eastern author,
+among the cowboys of the West, in search of &#8220;local color&#8221; for a
+new novel. &#8220;Bud&#8221; Thurston learns many a lesson while following
+&#8220;the lure of the dim trails&#8221; but the hardest, and probably the most
+welcome, is that of love.</p>
+<p>THE LONESOME TRAIL</p>
+<p>&#8220;Weary&#8221; Davidson leaves the ranch for Portland, where conventional
+city life palls on him. A little branch of sage brush,
+pungent with the atmosphere of the prairie, and the recollection of
+a pair of large brown eyes soon compel his return. A wholesome
+love story.</p>
+<p>THE LONG SHADOW</p>
+<p>A vigorous Western story, sparkling with the free, outdoor,
+life of a mountain ranch. Its scenes shift rapidly and its actors play
+the game of life fearlessly and like men. It is a fine love story from
+start to finish.</p>
+<div class='ce' style=' font-size:0.8em;'>
+<p><i>Ask for Complete free list of G. &amp; D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction</i></p>
+<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Grosset &amp; Dunlap, 526 West 26th St., New York</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<div class='ce'>
+<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>BOOTH TARKINGTON&#8217;S NOVELS</p>
+<div style='margin-top:1em'></div>
+<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset &amp; Dunlap&#8217;s list.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>SEVENTEEN. Illustrated by Arthur William Brown.</p>
+<p>No one but the creator of Penrod could have portrayed
+the immortal young people of this story. Its humor is irresistible
+and reminiscent of the time when the reader was
+Seventeen.</p>
+<p>PENROD. Illustrated by Gordon Grant.</p>
+<p>This is a picture of a boy&#8217;s heart, full of the lovable, humorous,
+tragic things which are locked secrets to most older
+folks. It is a finished, exquisite work.</p>
+<p>PENROD AND SAM. Illustrated by Worth Brehm.</p>
+<p>Like &#8220;Penrod&#8221; and &#8220;Seventeen,&#8221; this book contains
+some remarkable phases of real boyhood and some of the best
+stories of juvenile prankishness that have ever been written.</p>
+<p>THE TURMOIL. Illustrated by C. E. Chambers.</p>
+<p>Bibbs Sheridan is a dreamy, imaginative youth, who revolts
+against his father&#8217;s plans for him to be a servitor of
+big business. The love of a fine girl turns Bibbs&#8217; life from
+failure to success.</p>
+<p>THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA. Frontispiece.</p>
+<p>A story of love and politics,&mdash;more especially a picture of
+a country editor&#8217;s life in Indiana, but the charm of the book
+lies in the love interest.</p>
+<p>THE FLIRT. Illustrated by Clarence F. Underwood.</p>
+<p>The &#8220;Flirt,&#8221; the younger of two sisters, breaks one girl&#8217;s
+engagement, drives one man to suicide, causes the murder
+of another, leads another to lose his fortune, and in the end
+marries a stupid and unpromising suitor, leaving the really
+worthy one to marry her sister.</p>
+<div class='ce' style=' font-size:0.8em;'>
+<p><i>Ask for Complete free list of G. &amp; D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction</i></p>
+<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Grosset &amp; Dunlap, Publishers, New York</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<div class='ce'>
+<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>GROSSET &amp; DUNLAP&#8217;S DRAMATIZED NOVELS</p>
+<div style='margin-top:1em'></div>
+<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>THE KIND THAT ARE MAKING THEATRICAL HISTORY</p>
+<div style='margin-top:1em'></div>
+<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask far Grosset &amp; Dunlap&#8217;s list</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>WITHIN THE LAW. By Bayard Veiller &amp; Marvin Dana.
+Illustrated by Wm. Charles Cooke.</p>
+<p>This is a novelization of the immensely successful play which ran
+for two years in New York and Chicago.</p>
+<p>The plot of this powerful novel is of a young woman&#8217;s revenge
+directed against her employer who allowed her to be sent to prison
+for three years on a charge of theft, of which she was innocent.</p>
+<p>WHAT HAPPENED TO MARY. By Robert Carlton Brown.
+Illustrated with scenes from the play.</p>
+<p>This is a narrative of a young and innocent country girl who is
+suddenly thrown into the very heart of New York, &#8220;the land of her
+dreams,&#8221; where she is exposed to all sorts of temptations and dangers.</p>
+<p>The story of Mary is being told in moving pictures and played in
+theatres all over the world.</p>
+<p>THE RETURN OF PETER GRIMM. By David Belasco.
+Illustrated by John Rae.</p>
+<p>This is a novelization of the popular play in which David Warfield,
+as Old Peter Grimm, scored such a remarkable success.</p>
+<p>The story is spectacular and extremely pathetic but withal,
+powerful, both as a book and as a play.</p>
+<p>THE GARDEN OF ALLAH. By Robert Hichens.</p>
+<p>This novel is an intense, glowing epic of the great desert, sunlit
+barbaric, with its marvelous atmosphere of vastness and loneliness.</p>
+<p>It is a book of rapturous beauty, vivid in word painting. The play
+has been staged with magnificent cast and gorgeous properties.</p>
+<p>BEN HUR. A Tale of the Christ. By General Lew Wallace.</p>
+<p>The whole world has placed this famous Religious-Historical Romance
+on a height of pre-eminence which no other novel of its time
+has reached. The clashing of rivalry and the deepest human passions,
+the perfect reproduction of brilliant Roman life, and the tense, fierce
+atmosphere of the arena have kept their deep fascination. A tremendous
+dramatic success.</p>
+<p>BOUGHT AND PAID FOR. By George Broadhurst and Arthur
+Hornblow. Illustrated with scenes from the play.</p>
+<p>A stupendous arraignment of modern marriage which has created
+an interest on the stage that is almost unparalleled. The scenes are laid
+in New York, and deal with conditions among both the rich and poor.</p>
+<p>The interest of the story turns on the day-by-day developments
+which show the young wife the price she has paid.</p>
+<div class='ce' style=' font-size:0.8em;'>
+<p><i>Ask for Complete free list of G. &amp; D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction</i></p>
+<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Grosset &amp; Dunlap, 526 West 26th St., New York</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<div class='ce'>
+<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>THE NOVELS OF</p>
+<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>STEWART EDWARD WHITE</p>
+<div style='margin-top:1em'></div>
+<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset &amp; Dunlap&#8217;s list.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>THE BLAZED TRAIL. Illustrated by Thomas Fogarty.</p>
+<p>A wholesome story with gleams of humor, telling of a young man
+who blazed his way to fortune through the heart of the Michigan
+pines.</p>
+<p>THE CALL OF THE NORTH. Ills. with Scenes from the Play.</p>
+<p>The story centers about a Hudson Bay trading post, known as
+&#8220;The Conjuror&#8217;s House&#8221; (the original title of the book.)</p>
+<p>THE RIVERMAN. Ills. by N. C. Wyeth and C. F. Underwood.</p>
+<p>The story of a man&#8217;s fight against a river and of a struggle between
+honesty and grit on the one side, and dishonesty and shrewdness
+on the other.</p>
+<p>RULES OF THE GAME. Illustrated by Lejaren A. Hiller.</p>
+<p>The romance of the son of &#8220;The Riverman.&#8221; The young college
+hero goes into the lumber camp, is antagonized by &#8220;graft,&#8221; and
+comes into the romance of his life.</p>
+<p>GOLD. Illustrated by Thomas Fogarty.</p>
+<p>The gold fever of &#8217;49 is pictured with vividness. A part of the
+story is laid in Panama, the route taken by the gold-seekers.</p>
+<p>THE FOREST. Illustrated by Thomas Fogarty.</p>
+<p>The book tells of the canoe trip of the author and his companion
+into the great woods. Much information about camping and outdoor
+life. A splendid treatise on woodcraft.</p>
+<p>THE MOUNTAINS. Illustrated by Fernand Lungren.</p>
+<p>An account of the adventures of a five months&#8217; camping trip in
+the Sierras of California. The author has followed a true sequence
+of events.</p>
+<p>THE CABIN. Illustrated with photographs by the author.</p>
+<p>A chronicle of the building of a cabin home in a forest-girdled
+meadow of the Sierras. Full of nature and woodcraft, and the
+shrewd philosophy of &#8220;California John.&#8221;</p>
+<p>THE GRAY DAWN. Illustrated by Thomas Fogarty.</p>
+<p>This book tells of the period shortly after the first mad rush for
+gold in California. A young lawyer and his wife, initiated into the
+gay life of San Francisco, find their ways parted through his downward
+course, but succeeding events bring the &#8220;gray dawn of better
+things&#8221; for both of them.</p>
+<div class='ce' style=' font-size:0.8em;'>
+<p><i>Ask for Complete free list of G. &amp; D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction</i></p>
+<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Grosset &amp; Dunlap, Publishers, New York</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ODD NUMBERS***</p>
+<p>******* This file should be named 26528-h.txt or 26528-h.zip *******</p>
+<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br />
+<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/6/5/2/26528">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/5/2/26528</a></p>
+<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.</p>
+
+<p>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.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.</p>
+
+
+
+<pre>
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license)</a>.
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+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
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS,' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's
+eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII,
+compressed (zipped), HTML and others.
+
+Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks replace the old file and take over
+the old filename and etext number.  The replaced older file is renamed.
+VERSIONS based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving
+new filenames and etext numbers.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org">http://www.gutenberg.org</a>
+
+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.
+
+EBooks posted prior to November 2003, with eBook numbers BELOW #10000,
+are filed in directories based on their release date.  If you want to
+download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular
+search system you may utilize the following addresses and just
+download by the etext year.
+
+<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext06/">http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext06/</a>
+
+    (Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99,
+     98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90)
+
+EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are
+filed in a different way.  The year of a release date is no longer part
+of the directory path.  The path is based on the etext number (which is
+identical to the filename).  The path to the file is made up of single
+digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename.  For
+example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at:
+
+http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/0/2/3/10234
+
+or filename 24689 would be found at:
+http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/6/8/24689
+
+An alternative method of locating eBooks:
+<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL">http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL</a>
+
+*** END: FULL LICENSE ***
+</pre>
+</body>
+</html>
diff --git a/26528-h/images/illus-078.jpg b/26528-h/images/illus-078.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..248f08c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-h/images/illus-078.jpg
diff --git a/26528-h/images/illus-110.jpg b/26528-h/images/illus-110.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a9fc3ed
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-h/images/illus-110.jpg
diff --git a/26528-h/images/illus-286.jpg b/26528-h/images/illus-286.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2d5579c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-h/images/illus-286.jpg
diff --git a/26528-h/images/illus-fpc.jpg b/26528-h/images/illus-fpc.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f36fe8f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-h/images/illus-fpc.jpg
diff --git a/26528-page-images/f0000-image1.jpg b/26528-page-images/f0000-image1.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c59869a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/f0000-image1.jpg
diff --git a/26528-page-images/f0001.png b/26528-page-images/f0001.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f09f483
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/f0001.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/f0002.png b/26528-page-images/f0002.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..58d9942
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/f0002.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/f0003.png b/26528-page-images/f0003.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..abd0ae0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/f0003.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0001.png b/26528-page-images/p0001.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a5a6378
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0001.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0002.png b/26528-page-images/p0002.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..44a8e44
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0002.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0003.png b/26528-page-images/p0003.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..01ab039
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0003.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0004.png b/26528-page-images/p0004.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3072003
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0004.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0005.png b/26528-page-images/p0005.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e8a88ae
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0005.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0006.png b/26528-page-images/p0006.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fa406a1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0006.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0007.png b/26528-page-images/p0007.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9a42dc3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0007.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0008.png b/26528-page-images/p0008.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e6b7036
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0008.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0009.png b/26528-page-images/p0009.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7e1b6cd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0009.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0010.png b/26528-page-images/p0010.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..df401d1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0010.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0011.png b/26528-page-images/p0011.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..75a0378
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0011.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0012.png b/26528-page-images/p0012.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0881e1d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0012.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0013.png b/26528-page-images/p0013.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e52f68b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0013.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0014.png b/26528-page-images/p0014.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a5b7231
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0014.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0015.png b/26528-page-images/p0015.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bee6bfb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0015.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0016.png b/26528-page-images/p0016.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..76b9a4b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0016.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0017.png b/26528-page-images/p0017.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..182ef3e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0017.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0018.png b/26528-page-images/p0018.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4a21330
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0018.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0019.png b/26528-page-images/p0019.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e19f328
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0019.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0020.png b/26528-page-images/p0020.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..eebdc39
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0020.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0021.png b/26528-page-images/p0021.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ffa3791
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0021.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0022.png b/26528-page-images/p0022.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c27d3f3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0022.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0023.png b/26528-page-images/p0023.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..30fa842
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0023.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0024.png b/26528-page-images/p0024.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e5e7787
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0024.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0025.png b/26528-page-images/p0025.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..35ccff7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0025.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0026.png b/26528-page-images/p0026.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5028705
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0026.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0027.png b/26528-page-images/p0027.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..de77685
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0027.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0028.png b/26528-page-images/p0028.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ebecb42
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0028.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0029.png b/26528-page-images/p0029.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b76b01d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0029.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0030.png b/26528-page-images/p0030.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fe5892c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0030.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0031.png b/26528-page-images/p0031.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5d5c5dd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0031.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0032.png b/26528-page-images/p0032.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..81ad077
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0032.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0033.png b/26528-page-images/p0033.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1a31d9d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0033.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0034.png b/26528-page-images/p0034.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5436fc6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0034.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0035.png b/26528-page-images/p0035.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..dc5bb61
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0035.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0036.png b/26528-page-images/p0036.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d6ca258
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0036.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0037.png b/26528-page-images/p0037.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..67c1dc6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0037.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0038.png b/26528-page-images/p0038.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a8097ef
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0038.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0039.png b/26528-page-images/p0039.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e4c970e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0039.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0040.png b/26528-page-images/p0040.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..33ec50f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0040.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0041.png b/26528-page-images/p0041.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..10f3b84
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0041.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0042.png b/26528-page-images/p0042.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..31b6db8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0042.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0043.png b/26528-page-images/p0043.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..52deba2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0043.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0044.png b/26528-page-images/p0044.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3a451b3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0044.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0045.png b/26528-page-images/p0045.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..62e27f5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0045.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0046.png b/26528-page-images/p0046.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b5cf1e6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0046.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0047.png b/26528-page-images/p0047.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2ef8fc3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0047.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0048.png b/26528-page-images/p0048.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..10131c4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0048.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0049.png b/26528-page-images/p0049.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c267620
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0049.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0050.png b/26528-page-images/p0050.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..654d1fd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0050.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0051.png b/26528-page-images/p0051.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7304dd6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0051.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0052.png b/26528-page-images/p0052.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..18951ff
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0052.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0053.png b/26528-page-images/p0053.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bf9294a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0053.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0054.png b/26528-page-images/p0054.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bde0465
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0054.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0055.png b/26528-page-images/p0055.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1acd627
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0055.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0056.png b/26528-page-images/p0056.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ce0c5de
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0056.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0057.png b/26528-page-images/p0057.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b498c08
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0057.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0058.png b/26528-page-images/p0058.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6cf38f1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0058.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0059.png b/26528-page-images/p0059.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..98fbd68
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0059.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0060.png b/26528-page-images/p0060.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cf5fc90
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0060.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0061.png b/26528-page-images/p0061.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..10416b5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0061.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0062.png b/26528-page-images/p0062.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e520144
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0062.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0063.png b/26528-page-images/p0063.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..44bf9a0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0063.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0064.png b/26528-page-images/p0064.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8bcb40a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0064.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0065.png b/26528-page-images/p0065.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4891d8f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0065.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0066.png b/26528-page-images/p0066.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1cf210f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0066.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0067.png b/26528-page-images/p0067.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fe9404a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0067.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0068.png b/26528-page-images/p0068.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a5fb79c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0068.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0069.png b/26528-page-images/p0069.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..398e207
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0069.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0070.png b/26528-page-images/p0070.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5854a59
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0070.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0071.png b/26528-page-images/p0071.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b6236a4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0071.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0072.png b/26528-page-images/p0072.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2db0973
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0072.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0073.png b/26528-page-images/p0073.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3e056ff
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0073.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0074.png b/26528-page-images/p0074.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..28fd176
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0074.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0075.png b/26528-page-images/p0075.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f7356e2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0075.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0076.png b/26528-page-images/p0076.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..55d33ff
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0076.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0077.png b/26528-page-images/p0077.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f333fd0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0077.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0078-insert1.jpg b/26528-page-images/p0078-insert1.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f186491
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0078-insert1.jpg
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0078.png b/26528-page-images/p0078.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a4dff07
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0078.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0079.png b/26528-page-images/p0079.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..47abf66
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0079.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0080.png b/26528-page-images/p0080.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b9d0677
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0080.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0081.png b/26528-page-images/p0081.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..48200b5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0081.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0082.png b/26528-page-images/p0082.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..89fb76e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0082.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0083.png b/26528-page-images/p0083.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a04c3c5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0083.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0084.png b/26528-page-images/p0084.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c26cd41
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0084.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0085.png b/26528-page-images/p0085.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..42635d7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0085.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0086.png b/26528-page-images/p0086.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..411a288
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0086.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0087.png b/26528-page-images/p0087.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..837fd91
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0087.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0088.png b/26528-page-images/p0088.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3c6d197
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0088.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0089.png b/26528-page-images/p0089.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d90caa5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0089.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0090.png b/26528-page-images/p0090.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b25e14f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0090.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0091.png b/26528-page-images/p0091.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..40463d7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0091.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0092.png b/26528-page-images/p0092.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4cdfbd4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0092.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0093.png b/26528-page-images/p0093.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7cab035
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0093.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0094.png b/26528-page-images/p0094.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..72ab262
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0094.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0095.png b/26528-page-images/p0095.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3fd4bb1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0095.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0096.png b/26528-page-images/p0096.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ca9a6a0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0096.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0097.png b/26528-page-images/p0097.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ee5e625
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0097.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0098.png b/26528-page-images/p0098.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f0a77ea
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0098.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0099.png b/26528-page-images/p0099.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..17cb42d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0099.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0100.png b/26528-page-images/p0100.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..32ef7c0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0100.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0101.png b/26528-page-images/p0101.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8603694
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0101.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0102.png b/26528-page-images/p0102.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2950929
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0102.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0103.png b/26528-page-images/p0103.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..821a85c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0103.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0104.png b/26528-page-images/p0104.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2a24d2e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0104.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0105.png b/26528-page-images/p0105.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6660eb4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0105.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0106.png b/26528-page-images/p0106.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cca5029
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0106.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0107.png b/26528-page-images/p0107.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2e5b8f9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0107.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0108.png b/26528-page-images/p0108.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f1c02ab
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0108.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0109.png b/26528-page-images/p0109.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..df10561
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0109.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0110-insert1.jpg b/26528-page-images/p0110-insert1.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0b1025c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0110-insert1.jpg
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0110.png b/26528-page-images/p0110.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..085255c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0110.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0111.png b/26528-page-images/p0111.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f1e8f80
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0111.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0112.png b/26528-page-images/p0112.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3ee11b4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0112.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0113.png b/26528-page-images/p0113.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5553a8c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0113.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0114.png b/26528-page-images/p0114.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ca6ee5c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0114.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0115.png b/26528-page-images/p0115.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..03d18d2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0115.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0116.png b/26528-page-images/p0116.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ab35881
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0116.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0117.png b/26528-page-images/p0117.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e1d8618
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0117.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0118.png b/26528-page-images/p0118.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e7a6724
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0118.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0119.png b/26528-page-images/p0119.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3807f3f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0119.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0120.png b/26528-page-images/p0120.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ba6d40c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0120.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0121.png b/26528-page-images/p0121.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c62ae94
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0121.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0122.png b/26528-page-images/p0122.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e1815ab
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0122.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0123.png b/26528-page-images/p0123.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..38194b1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0123.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0124.png b/26528-page-images/p0124.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f643d3e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0124.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0125.png b/26528-page-images/p0125.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ffd30eb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0125.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0126.png b/26528-page-images/p0126.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fd28db0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0126.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0127.png b/26528-page-images/p0127.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f9f3e70
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0127.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0128.png b/26528-page-images/p0128.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fc8b954
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0128.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0129.png b/26528-page-images/p0129.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5154c05
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0129.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0130.png b/26528-page-images/p0130.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bf7a42d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0130.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0131.png b/26528-page-images/p0131.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a861ce5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0131.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0132.png b/26528-page-images/p0132.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6d96f4f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0132.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0133.png b/26528-page-images/p0133.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6b82d1d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0133.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0134.png b/26528-page-images/p0134.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9959749
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0134.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0135.png b/26528-page-images/p0135.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e1536e0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0135.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0136.png b/26528-page-images/p0136.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fdefc72
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0136.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0137.png b/26528-page-images/p0137.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..91e6786
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0137.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0138.png b/26528-page-images/p0138.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7b8f17b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0138.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0139.png b/26528-page-images/p0139.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d78a154
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0139.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0140.png b/26528-page-images/p0140.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2ca0869
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0140.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0141.png b/26528-page-images/p0141.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9bd2ad8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0141.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0142.png b/26528-page-images/p0142.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..72dcf50
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0142.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0143.png b/26528-page-images/p0143.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5312510
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0143.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0144.png b/26528-page-images/p0144.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d3584fc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0144.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0145.png b/26528-page-images/p0145.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e66d76b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0145.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0146.png b/26528-page-images/p0146.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..515cfd3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0146.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0147.png b/26528-page-images/p0147.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0ad2754
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0147.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0148.png b/26528-page-images/p0148.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8c8bc48
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0148.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0149.png b/26528-page-images/p0149.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ec24386
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0149.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0150.png b/26528-page-images/p0150.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..176f88b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0150.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0151.png b/26528-page-images/p0151.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d831248
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0151.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0152.png b/26528-page-images/p0152.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a0ff2a7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0152.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0153.png b/26528-page-images/p0153.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..81b40f4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0153.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0154.png b/26528-page-images/p0154.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b89ac72
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0154.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0155.png b/26528-page-images/p0155.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4ec9090
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0155.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0156.png b/26528-page-images/p0156.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..47c60c3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0156.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0157.png b/26528-page-images/p0157.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fb8bb71
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0157.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0158.png b/26528-page-images/p0158.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f6dcf69
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0158.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0159.png b/26528-page-images/p0159.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e14b649
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0159.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0160.png b/26528-page-images/p0160.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a19fe45
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0160.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0161.png b/26528-page-images/p0161.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8f9b75b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0161.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0162.png b/26528-page-images/p0162.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c5de336
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0162.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0163.png b/26528-page-images/p0163.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fe63ab0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0163.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0164.png b/26528-page-images/p0164.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a23829a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0164.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0165.png b/26528-page-images/p0165.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ca416da
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0165.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0166.png b/26528-page-images/p0166.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..acae90b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0166.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0167.png b/26528-page-images/p0167.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1b15547
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0167.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0168.png b/26528-page-images/p0168.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..229eb5c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0168.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0169.png b/26528-page-images/p0169.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2028ce4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0169.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0170.png b/26528-page-images/p0170.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..de4f054
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0170.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0171.png b/26528-page-images/p0171.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b119822
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0171.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0172.png b/26528-page-images/p0172.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d5022c5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0172.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0173.png b/26528-page-images/p0173.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..49ef8f6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0173.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0174.png b/26528-page-images/p0174.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8fb4d59
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0174.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0175.png b/26528-page-images/p0175.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d4bec1b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0175.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0176.png b/26528-page-images/p0176.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6f6d401
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0176.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0177.png b/26528-page-images/p0177.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7f8644d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0177.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0178.png b/26528-page-images/p0178.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3b1f4d6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0178.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0179.png b/26528-page-images/p0179.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4a5d0e2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0179.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0180.png b/26528-page-images/p0180.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0c8988c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0180.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0181.png b/26528-page-images/p0181.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2e20992
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0181.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0182.png b/26528-page-images/p0182.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5c2344a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0182.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0183.png b/26528-page-images/p0183.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0f0da61
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0183.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0184.png b/26528-page-images/p0184.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0d98348
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0184.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0185.png b/26528-page-images/p0185.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6c72217
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0185.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0186.png b/26528-page-images/p0186.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..12d627e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0186.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0187.png b/26528-page-images/p0187.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4ea03e4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0187.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0188.png b/26528-page-images/p0188.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9714b35
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0188.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0189.png b/26528-page-images/p0189.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8f367d8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0189.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0190.png b/26528-page-images/p0190.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ec1c1b0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0190.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0191.png b/26528-page-images/p0191.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2e5bf86
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0191.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0192.png b/26528-page-images/p0192.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e732007
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0192.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0193.png b/26528-page-images/p0193.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2854b87
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0193.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0194.png b/26528-page-images/p0194.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e356d32
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0194.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0195.png b/26528-page-images/p0195.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..249fde8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0195.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0196.png b/26528-page-images/p0196.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fd38802
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0196.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0197.png b/26528-page-images/p0197.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7697006
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0197.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0198.png b/26528-page-images/p0198.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5a3b72a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0198.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0199.png b/26528-page-images/p0199.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8ac8b2d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0199.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0200.png b/26528-page-images/p0200.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..98c36a3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0200.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0201.png b/26528-page-images/p0201.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d764ad5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0201.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0202.png b/26528-page-images/p0202.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..618b7be
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0202.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0203.png b/26528-page-images/p0203.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8e4d0bb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0203.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0204.png b/26528-page-images/p0204.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c3b53b5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0204.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0205.png b/26528-page-images/p0205.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d39253f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0205.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0206.png b/26528-page-images/p0206.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..310600f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0206.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0207.png b/26528-page-images/p0207.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4842a73
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0207.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0208.png b/26528-page-images/p0208.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3a8efb9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0208.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0209.png b/26528-page-images/p0209.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..408aaa3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0209.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0210.png b/26528-page-images/p0210.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..66c3133
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0210.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0211.png b/26528-page-images/p0211.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1446aee
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0211.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0212.png b/26528-page-images/p0212.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ff32cee
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0212.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0213.png b/26528-page-images/p0213.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9e376d5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0213.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0214.png b/26528-page-images/p0214.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5a294ae
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0214.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0215.png b/26528-page-images/p0215.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6478161
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0215.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0216.png b/26528-page-images/p0216.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..31d953f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0216.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0217.png b/26528-page-images/p0217.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8f6506f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0217.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0218.png b/26528-page-images/p0218.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..099f787
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0218.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0219.png b/26528-page-images/p0219.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7a9abfe
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0219.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0220.png b/26528-page-images/p0220.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5d73c00
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0220.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0221.png b/26528-page-images/p0221.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..38a2446
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0221.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0222.png b/26528-page-images/p0222.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8be39ce
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0222.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0223.png b/26528-page-images/p0223.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..da2ff05
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0223.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0224.png b/26528-page-images/p0224.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b289e84
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0224.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0225.png b/26528-page-images/p0225.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2f1e0d3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0225.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0226.png b/26528-page-images/p0226.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e4eb7c2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0226.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0227.png b/26528-page-images/p0227.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7f997ff
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0227.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0228.png b/26528-page-images/p0228.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9d005e7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0228.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0229.png b/26528-page-images/p0229.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bce4b87
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0229.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0230.png b/26528-page-images/p0230.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..de343db
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0230.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0231.png b/26528-page-images/p0231.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..15b68d6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0231.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0232.png b/26528-page-images/p0232.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..02be68f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0232.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0233.png b/26528-page-images/p0233.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f431fd5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0233.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0234.png b/26528-page-images/p0234.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..31030ed
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0234.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0235.png b/26528-page-images/p0235.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d16c244
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0235.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0236.png b/26528-page-images/p0236.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c78618a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0236.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0237.png b/26528-page-images/p0237.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..24723ff
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0237.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0238.png b/26528-page-images/p0238.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..729b180
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0238.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0239.png b/26528-page-images/p0239.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d3ffec3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0239.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0240.png b/26528-page-images/p0240.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..50cdcd0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0240.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0241.png b/26528-page-images/p0241.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..82cf967
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0241.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0242.png b/26528-page-images/p0242.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..dd609f4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0242.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0243.png b/26528-page-images/p0243.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..de53554
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0243.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0244.png b/26528-page-images/p0244.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..272a9ad
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0244.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0245.png b/26528-page-images/p0245.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2a178b5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0245.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0246.png b/26528-page-images/p0246.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..44da116
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0246.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0247.png b/26528-page-images/p0247.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7337ab1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0247.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0248.png b/26528-page-images/p0248.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9b0e509
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0248.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0249.png b/26528-page-images/p0249.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a937b43
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0249.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0250.png b/26528-page-images/p0250.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b7b93f0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0250.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0251.png b/26528-page-images/p0251.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a4e9a9f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0251.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0252.png b/26528-page-images/p0252.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ea975b6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0252.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0253.png b/26528-page-images/p0253.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c0cb4fb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0253.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0254.png b/26528-page-images/p0254.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d7c16e4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0254.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0255.png b/26528-page-images/p0255.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..dfaf627
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0255.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0256.png b/26528-page-images/p0256.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ed0ae85
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0256.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0257.png b/26528-page-images/p0257.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9ab7ad1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0257.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0258.png b/26528-page-images/p0258.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2cda59a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0258.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0259.png b/26528-page-images/p0259.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e68b1a5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0259.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0260.png b/26528-page-images/p0260.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3678699
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0260.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0261.png b/26528-page-images/p0261.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7fcfd5d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0261.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0262.png b/26528-page-images/p0262.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..acd1a8d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0262.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0263.png b/26528-page-images/p0263.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e87f64f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0263.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0264.png b/26528-page-images/p0264.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f5d46e7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0264.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0265.png b/26528-page-images/p0265.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..56e9290
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0265.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0266.png b/26528-page-images/p0266.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6dae2bc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0266.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0267.png b/26528-page-images/p0267.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..29cd0b6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0267.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0268.png b/26528-page-images/p0268.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6346818
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0268.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0269.png b/26528-page-images/p0269.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7ec4bcf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0269.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0270.png b/26528-page-images/p0270.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7993415
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0270.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0271.png b/26528-page-images/p0271.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b92fbb3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0271.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0272.png b/26528-page-images/p0272.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..89e6207
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0272.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0273.png b/26528-page-images/p0273.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..00f52f3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0273.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0274.png b/26528-page-images/p0274.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..355fd22
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0274.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0275.png b/26528-page-images/p0275.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..76620f2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0275.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0276.png b/26528-page-images/p0276.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..da80f09
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0276.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0277.png b/26528-page-images/p0277.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1864cc0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0277.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0278.png b/26528-page-images/p0278.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c32574b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0278.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0279.png b/26528-page-images/p0279.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ab3ec41
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0279.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0280.png b/26528-page-images/p0280.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..85d174d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0280.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0281.png b/26528-page-images/p0281.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..79ca9c8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0281.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0282.png b/26528-page-images/p0282.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..935b7a3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0282.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0283.png b/26528-page-images/p0283.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..17aedca
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0283.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0284.png b/26528-page-images/p0284.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b479a36
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0284.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0285.png b/26528-page-images/p0285.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4de6b46
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0285.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0286-insert1.jpg b/26528-page-images/p0286-insert1.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9fdb29a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0286-insert1.jpg
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0286.png b/26528-page-images/p0286.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b9c46f6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0286.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0287.png b/26528-page-images/p0287.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..17fcf9c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0287.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0288.png b/26528-page-images/p0288.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c19aa06
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0288.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0289.png b/26528-page-images/p0289.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..68a6281
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0289.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0290.png b/26528-page-images/p0290.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6fac0b9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0290.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0291.png b/26528-page-images/p0291.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6e22a8b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0291.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0292.png b/26528-page-images/p0292.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..884ede9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0292.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0293.png b/26528-page-images/p0293.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ff267b6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0293.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0294.png b/26528-page-images/p0294.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e170d8e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0294.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0295.png b/26528-page-images/p0295.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..820a262
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0295.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0296.png b/26528-page-images/p0296.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d9ff2ab
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0296.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0297.png b/26528-page-images/p0297.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6a752ea
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0297.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0298.png b/26528-page-images/p0298.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6c8383d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0298.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0299.png b/26528-page-images/p0299.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..767ef49
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0299.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0300.png b/26528-page-images/p0300.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e65deb9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0300.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0301.png b/26528-page-images/p0301.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f761c0b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0301.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0302.png b/26528-page-images/p0302.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..331d056
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0302.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0303.png b/26528-page-images/p0303.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fd47e18
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0303.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0304.png b/26528-page-images/p0304.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5566ac4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0304.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0305.png b/26528-page-images/p0305.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8a33517
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0305.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0306.png b/26528-page-images/p0306.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5f3856a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0306.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0307.png b/26528-page-images/p0307.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bbeed2e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0307.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0308.png b/26528-page-images/p0308.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f29e5d4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0308.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/p0309.png b/26528-page-images/p0309.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..16de230
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/p0309.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/q0001.png b/26528-page-images/q0001.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ffc6326
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/q0001.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/q0002.png b/26528-page-images/q0002.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7834604
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/q0002.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/q0003.png b/26528-page-images/q0003.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b3ab63c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/q0003.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/q0004.png b/26528-page-images/q0004.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5d56ac6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/q0004.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/q0005.png b/26528-page-images/q0005.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f2e741c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/q0005.png
diff --git a/26528-page-images/q0006.png b/26528-page-images/q0006.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..96d0e24
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528-page-images/q0006.png
diff --git a/26528.txt b/26528.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ad6ed27
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,8779 @@
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Odd Numbers, by Sewell Ford, Illustrated by
+F. Vaux Nicholson
+
+
+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: Odd Numbers
+       Being Further Chronicles of Shorty McCabe
+
+
+Author: Sewell Ford
+
+
+
+Release Date: September 4, 2008  [eBook #26528]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ODD NUMBERS***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Project Gutenberg Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 26528-h.htm or 26528-h.zip:
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/6/5/2/26528/26528-h/26528-h.htm)
+      or
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/6/5/2/26528/26528-h.zip)
+
+
+
+
+
+ODD NUMBERS
+
+Being Further Chronicles of Shorty McCabe
+
+by
+
+SEWELL FORD
+
+Author of
+Trying Out Torchy, Etc.
+
+Illustrations by F. Vaux Wilson
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "'SISTERS? DO WE LOOK IT?' SAYS MAISIE"]
+
+
+
+
+New York
+Grosset & Dunlap
+Publishers
+
+Copyright, 1908, 1909, 1910, 1911, by Sewell Ford
+Copyright, 1912, by Edward J. Clode
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+CHAPTER                               PAGE
+     I.  Goliah and the Purple Lid       1
+    II.  How Maizie Came Through        17
+   III.  Where Spotty Fitted In         35
+    IV.  A Grandmother Who Got Going    50
+     V.  A Long Shot on DeLancey        67
+    VI.  Playing Harold Both Ways       84
+   VII.  Cornelia Shows Some Class     100
+  VIII.  Doping Out an Odd One         116
+    IX.  Handing Bobby a Blank         134
+     X.  Marmaduke Slips One Over      151
+    XI.  A Look In on the Goat Game    167
+   XII.  Mrs. Truckles' Broad Jump     183
+  XIII.  Heiney Takes the Gloom Cure   199
+   XIV.  A Try-Out for Toodleism       214
+    XV.  The Case of the Tiscotts      230
+   XVI.  Classing Tutwater Right       246
+  XVII.  How Hermy Put It Over         262
+ XVIII.  Joy Riding with Aunty         279
+   XIX.  Turning a Trick for Beany     294
+
+
+
+ODD NUMBERS
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+GOLIAH AND THE PURPLE LID
+
+
+One of my highbrow reg'lars at the Physical Culture Studio, a gent that
+mixes up in charity works, like organizin' debatin' societies in the deaf
+and dumb asylums, was tellin' me awhile back of a great scheme of his to
+help out the stranger in our fair village. He wants to open public
+information bureaus, where a jay might go and find out anything he wanted
+to know, from how to locate a New Thought church, to the nearest place
+where he could buy a fresh celluloid collar.
+
+"Get the idea?" says he. "A public bureau where strangers in New York
+would be given courteous attention, friendly advice, and that sort of
+thing."
+
+"What's the use?" says I. "Ain't I here?"
+
+Course, I was just gettin' over a josh. But say, it ain't all a funny
+dream, either. Don't a lot of 'em come my way? Maybe it's because I'm so
+apt to lay myself open to the confidential tackle. But somehow, when I
+see one of these tourist freaks sizin' me up, and lookin' kind of dazed
+and lonesome, I can't chuck him back the frosty stare. I've been a stray
+in a strange town myself. So I gen'rally tries to seem halfway human, and
+if he opens up with some shot on the weather, I let him get in the
+follow-up questions and take the chances.
+
+Here the other day, though, I wa'n't lookin' for anything of the kind. I
+was just joltin' down my luncheon with a little promenade up the sunny
+side of Avenue V, taking in the exhibits--things in the show windows and
+folks on the sidewalks--as keen as if I'd paid in my dollar at some
+ticket office.
+
+And say, where can you beat it? I see it 'most every day in the year, and
+it's always new. There's different flowers in the florists' displays, new
+flags hung out on the big hotels, and even the chorus ladies in the
+limousines are changed now and then.
+
+I can't figure out just what it was landed me in front of this millinery
+window. Gen'rally I hurry by them exhibits with a shudder; for once I got
+gay and told Sadie to take her pick, as this one was on me; and it was
+months before I got over the shock of payin' that bill. But there I finds
+myself, close up to the plate glass, gawpin' at a sample of what can be
+done in the hat line when the Bureau of Obstructions has been bought off
+and nobody's thought of applyin' the statute of limitations.
+
+It's a heliotrope lid, and the foundation must have used up enough straw
+to bed down a circus. It has the dimensions and general outlines of a
+summerhouse. The scheme of decoration is simple enough, though. The top
+of this heliotrope summerhouse has been caught in a heliotrope fog,
+that's all. There's yards and yards of this gauzy stuff draped and puffed
+and looped around it, with only a wide purple ribbon showin' here and
+there and keepin' the fog in place.
+
+Well, all that is restin' careless in a box, the size of a quarter-mile
+runnin' track, with the cover half off. And it's a work of art in itself,
+that box,--all Looey Cans pictures, and a thick purple silk cord to tie
+it up with. Why, one glimpse of that combination was enough to make me
+clap my hand over my roll and back away from the spot!
+
+Just then, though, I notices another gent steppin' up for a squint at the
+monstrosity, and I can't help lingerin' to see if he gets the same kind
+of a shock. He's sort of a queer party, too,--short, stoop shouldered,
+thin faced, wrinkled old chap, with a sandy mustache mixed some with
+gray, and a pair of shrewd little eyes peerin' out under bushy brows.
+Anybody could spot him as a rutabaga delegate by the high crowned soft
+hat and the back number ulster that he's still stickin' to, though the
+thermometer is way up in the eighties.
+
+But he don't seem to shy any at the purple lid. He sticks his head out
+first this way and then that, like a turtle, and then all of a sudden he
+shoots over kind of a quizzin' glance at me. I can't help but give him
+the grin. At that his mouth corners wrinkle up and the little gray eyes
+begin to twinkle.
+
+"Quite a hat, eh?" he chuckles.
+
+"It's goin' some in the lid line," says I.
+
+"I expect that's a mighty stylish article, though," says he.
+
+"That's the bluff the store people are makin'," says I, "and there's no
+law against it."
+
+"What would be your guess on the price of that there, now?" says he,
+edging up.
+
+"Ah, let's leave such harrowin' details to the man that has to pay for
+it," says I. "No use in our gettin' the chilly spine over what's marked
+on the price ticket; that is, unless you're thinking of investin'," and
+as I tips him the humorous wink I starts to move off.
+
+But this wa'n't a case where I was to get out so easy. He comes right
+after me. "Excuse me, neighbor," says he; "but--but that's exactly what I
+was thinking of doing, if it wasn't too infernally expensive."
+
+"What!" says I, gazin' at him; for he ain't the kind of citizen you'd
+expect to find indulgin' in such foolishness. "Oh, well, don't mind my
+remarks. Go ahead and blow yourself. You want it for the missus, eh?"
+
+"Ye-e-es," he drawls; "for--for my wife. Ah--er--would it be asking too
+much of a stranger if I should get you to step in there with me while I
+find out the price?"
+
+"Why," says I, lookin' him over careful,--"why, I don't know as I'd want
+to go as far as---- Well, what's the object?"
+
+"You see," says he, "I'm sort of a bashful person,--always have
+been,--and I don't just like to go in there alone amongst all them women
+folks. But the fact is, I've kind of got my mind set on having that hat,
+and----"
+
+"Wife ain't in town, then?" says I.
+
+"No," says he, "she's--she isn't."
+
+"Ain't you runnin' some risks," says I, "loadin' up with a lid that may
+not fit her partic'lar style of beauty?"
+
+"That's so, that's so," says he. "Ought to be something that would kind
+of jibe with her complexion and the color of her hair, hadn't it?"
+
+"You've surrounded the idea," says I. "Maybe it would be safer to send
+for her to come on."
+
+"No," says he; "couldn't be done. But see here," and he takes my arm and
+steers me up the avenue, "if you don't mind talking this over, I'd like
+to tell you a plan I've just thought out."
+
+Well, he'd got me some int'rested in him by that time. I could see he
+wa'n't no common Rube, and them twinklin' little eyes of his kind of got
+me. So I tells him to reel it off.
+
+"Maybe you never heard of me," he goes on; "but I'm Goliah Daggett, from
+South Forks, Iowy."
+
+"Guess I've missed hearin' of you," says I.
+
+"I suppose so," says he, kind of disappointed, though. "The boys out
+there call me Gol Daggett."
+
+"Sounds most like a cussword," says I.
+
+"Yes," says he; "that's one reason I'm pretty well known in the State.
+And there may be other reasons, too." He lets out a little chuckle at
+that; not loud, you know, but just as though he was swallowin' some joke
+or other. It was a specialty of his, this smothered chuckle business. "Of
+course," he goes on, "you needn't tell me your name, unless----"
+
+"It's a fair swap," says I. "Mine's McCabe; Shorty for short."
+
+"Yes?" says he. "I knew a McCabe once. He--er--well, he----"
+
+"Never mind," says I. "It's a big fam'ly, and there's only a few of us
+that's real credits to the name. But about this scheme of yours, Mr.
+Daggett?"
+
+"Certainly," says he. "It's just this: If I could find a woman who looked
+a good deal like my wife, I could try the hat on her, couldn't I? She'd
+do as well, eh?"
+
+"I don't know why not," says I.
+
+"Well," says he, "I know of just such a woman; saw her this morning in my
+hotel barber shop, where I dropped in for a haircut. She was one of
+these--What do you call 'em now?"
+
+"Manicure artists?" says I.
+
+"That's it," says he. "Asked me if I didn't want my fingers manicured;
+and, by jinks! I let her do it, just to see what it was like. Never felt
+so blamed foolish in my life! Look at them fingernails, will you? Been
+parin' 'em with a jackknife for fifty-seven years; and she soaks 'em out
+in a bowl of perfumery, jabs under 'em with a little stick wrapped in
+cotton, cuts off all the hang nails, files 'em round at the ends, and
+polishes 'em up so they shine as if they were varnished! He, he! Guess
+the boys would laugh if they could have seen me."
+
+"It's one experience you've got on me," says I. "And this manicure lady
+is a ringer for Mrs. Daggett, eh?"
+
+"Well, now," says he, scratchin' his chin, "maybe I ought to put it that
+she looks a good deal as Mrs. Daggett might have looked ten or fifteen
+years ago if she'd been got up that way,--same shade of red hair, only
+not such a thunderin' lot of it; same kind of blue eyes, only not so wide
+open and starry; and a nose and chin that I couldn't help remarking.
+Course, now, you understand this young woman was fixed up considerable
+smarter than Mrs. Daggett ever was in her life."
+
+"If she's a manicure artist in one of them Broadway hotels," says I, "I
+could guess that; specially if Mrs. Daggett's always stuck to Iowa."
+
+"Yes, that's right; she has," says Daggett. "But if she'd had the same
+chance to know what to wear and how to wear it----Well, I wish she'd had
+it, that's all. And she wanted it. My, my! how she did hanker for such
+things, Mr. McCabe!"
+
+"Well, better late than never," says I.
+
+"No, no!" says he, his voice kind of breakin' up. "That's what I want to
+forget, how--how late it is!" and hanged if he don't have to fish out a
+handkerchief and swab off his eyes. "You see," he goes on, "Marthy's
+gone."
+
+"Eh?" says I. "You mean she's----"
+
+He nods. "Four years ago this spring," says he. "Typhoid."
+
+"But," says I, "how about this hat?"
+
+"One of my notions," says he,--"just a foolish idea of mine. I'll tell
+you. When she was lying there, all white and thin, and not caring whether
+she ever got up again or not, a new spring hat was the only thing I could
+get her to take an interest in. She'd never had what you might call a
+real, bang-up, stylish hat. Always wanted one, too. And it wasn't because
+I was such a mean critter that she couldn't have had the money. But you
+know how it is in a little place like South Forks. They don't have 'em in
+stock, not the kind she wanted, and maybe we couldn't have found one
+nearer than Omaha or Chicago; and someway there never was a spring when I
+could seem to fix things so we could take the trip. Looked kind of
+foolish, too, traveling so far just to get a hat. So she went without,
+and put up with what Miss Simmons could trim for her. They looked all
+right, too, and I used to tell Marthy they were mighty becoming; but all
+the time I knew they weren't just--well, you know."
+
+Say, I never saw any specimens of Miss Simmons' art works; but I could
+make a guess. And I nods my head.
+
+"Well," says Daggett, "when I saw that Marthy was kind of giving up, I
+used to coax her to get well. 'You just get on your feet once, Marthy,'
+says I, 'and we'll go down to Chicago and buy you the finest and
+stylishest hat we can find in the whole city. More than that, you shall
+have a new one every spring, the very best.' She'd almost smile at that,
+and half promise she'd try. But it wasn't any use. The fever hadn't left
+her strength enough. And the first thing I knew she'd slipped away."
+
+Odd sort of yarn to be hearin' there on Fifth-ave. on a sunshiny
+afternoon, wa'n't it? And us dodgin' over crossin's, and duckin' under
+awnin's, and sidesteppin' the foot traffic! But he keeps right close to
+my elbow and gives me the whole story, even to how they'd agreed to use
+the little knoll just back of the farmhouse as a burial plot, and how she
+marked the hymns she wanted sung, and how she wanted him to find someone
+else as soon as the year was out.
+
+"Which was the only thing I couldn't say yes to," says Daggett. "'No,
+Marthy,' says I, 'not unless I can find another just like you.'--'You'll
+be mighty lonesome, Goliah,' says she, 'and you'll be wanting to change
+your flannels too early.'--'Maybe so,' says I; 'but I guess I'll worry
+along for the rest of the time alone.' Yes, sir, Mr. McCabe, she was a
+fine woman, and a patient one. No one ever knew how bad she wanted lots
+of things that she might of had, and gave up. You see, I was pretty deep
+in the wheat business, and every dollar I could get hold of went to
+buying more reapers and interests in elevator companies and crop options.
+I was bound to be a rich man, and they say I got there. Yes, I guess I am
+fairly well fixed."
+
+It wa'n't any chesty crow, but more like a sigh, and as we stops on a
+crossing to let a lady plutess roll by in her brougham, Mr. Daggett he
+sizes up the costume she wore and shakes his head kind of regretful.
+
+"That's the way Marthy should have been dressed," says he. "She'd have
+liked it. And she'd liked a hat such as that one we saw back there; that
+is, if it's the right kind. I've been buying 'em kind of careless,
+maybe."
+
+"How's that?" says I.
+
+"Oh!" says he, "I didn't finish telling you about my fool idea. I've been
+getting one every spring, the best I could pick out in Chicago, and
+carrying it up there on the knoll where Marthy is--and just leaving it.
+Go on now, Mr. McCabe; laugh if you want to. I won't mind. I can almost
+laugh at myself. Of course, Marthy's beyond caring for hats now. Still, I
+like to leave 'em there; and I like to think perhaps she does know, after
+all. So--so I want to get that purple one, providing it would be the
+right shade. What do you say?"
+
+Talk about your nutty propositions, eh? But honest, I didn't feel even
+like crackin' a smile.
+
+"Daggett," says I, "you're a true sport, even if you have got a few bats
+in the loft. Let's go back and get quotations on the lid."
+
+"I wish," says he, "I could see it tried on that manicure young woman
+first. Suppose we go down and bring her up?"
+
+"What makes you think she'll come?" says I.
+
+"Oh, I guess she will," says he, quiet and thoughtful. "We'll try,
+anyway."
+
+And say, right there I got a new line on him. I could almost frame up how
+it was he'd started in as a bacon borrowin' homesteader, and got to be
+the John D. of his county. But I could see he was up against a new deal
+this trip. And as it was time for me to be gettin' down towards 42d-st.
+anyway, I goes along. As we strikes the hotel barber shop I hangs up on
+the end of the cigar counter while Daggett looks around for the young
+woman who'd put the chappy polish on his nails.
+
+"That's her," says he, pointing out a heavyweight Titian blonde in the
+far corner, and over he pikes.
+
+I couldn't help admirin' the nerve of him; for of all the l'ongoline
+queens I ever saw, she's about the haughtiest. Maybe you can throw on the
+screen a picture of a female party with a Lillian Russell shape, hair
+like Mrs. Leslie Carter's, and an air like a twelve-dollar cloak model
+showin' off a five hundred-dollar lace dress to a bookmaker's bride.
+
+Just as Daggett tiptoes up she's pattin' down some of the red puffs that
+makes the back of her head look like a burnin' oil tank, and she swings
+around languid and scornful to see who it is that dares butt in on her
+presence. All the way she recognizes him is by a little lift of the
+eyebrows.
+
+I don't need to hear the dialogue. I can tell by her expression what
+Daggett is saying. First there's a kind of condescendin' curiosity as he
+begins, then she looks bored and turns back to the mirror, and pretty
+soon she sings out, "What's that?" so you could hear her all over the
+shop. Then Daggett springs his proposition flat.
+
+"Sir!" says she, jumpin' up and glarin' at him.
+
+Daggett tries to soothe her down; but it's no go.
+
+"Mr. Heinmuller!" she calls out, and the boss barber comes steppin' over,
+leavin' a customer with his face muffled in a hot towel. "This person,"
+she goes on, "is insulting!"
+
+"Hey?" says Heinmuller, puffin' out his cheeks. "Vos iss dot?"
+
+And for a minute it looked like I'd have to jump in and save Daggett from
+being chucked through the window. I was just preparin' to grab the boss
+by the collar, too, when Daggett gets in his fine work. Slippin' a ten
+off his roll, he passes it to Heinmuller, while he explains that all he
+asked of the lady was to try on a hat he was thinkin' of gettin' for his
+wife.
+
+"That's all," says he. "No insult intended. And of course I expect to
+make it worth while for the young lady."
+
+I don't know whether it was the smooth "young lady" business, or the
+sight of the fat roll that turned the trick; but the tragedy is declared
+off. Inside of three minutes the boss tells Daggett that Miss Rooney
+accepts his apology and consents to go if he'll call a cab.
+
+"Why, surely," says he. "You'll come along, too, won't you, McCabe?
+Honest, now, I wouldn't dare do this alone."
+
+"Too bad about that shy, retirin' disposition of yours!" says I. "Afraid
+she'll steal you, eh?"
+
+But he hangs onto my sleeve and coaxes me until I give in. And we sure
+made a fine trio ridin' up Fifth-ave. in a taxi! But you should have seen
+'em in the millinery shop as we sails in with Miss Rooney, and Daggett
+says how he'd like a view of that heliotrope lid in the window. We had
+'em guessin', all right.
+
+Then they gets Miss Rooney in a chair before the mirror, and fits the
+monstrosity on top of her red hair. Well, say, what a diff'rence it does
+make in them freak bonnets whether they're in a box or on the right head!
+For Miss Rooney has got just the right kind of a face that hat was built
+to go with. It's a bit giddy, I'll admit; but she's a stunner in it. And
+does she notice it any herself? Well, some!
+
+"A triumph!" gurgles the saleslady, lookin' from one to the other of us,
+tryin' to figure out who she ought to play to.
+
+"It's a game combination, all right," says I, lookin' wise.
+
+"I only wish----" begins Daggett, and then swallows the rest of it. In a
+minute he steps up and says it'll do, and that the young lady is to pick
+out one for herself now.
+
+"Oh, how perfectly sweet of you!" says Miss Rooney, slippin' him a smile
+that should have had him clear through the ropes. "But if I am to have
+any, why not this?" and she balances the heliotrope lid on her fingers,
+lookin' it over yearnin' and tender. "It just suits me, doesn't it?"
+
+Then there's more of the coy business, aimed straight at Daggett. But
+Miss Rooney don't quite put it across.
+
+"That's going out to Iowy with me," says he, prompt and decided.
+
+"Oh!" says Miss Rooney, and she proceeds to pick out a white straw with a
+green ostrich feather a yard long. She was still lookin' puzzled, though,
+as we put her into the cab and started her back to the barber shop.
+
+"Must have set you back near a hundred, didn't they?" says I, as Daggett
+and I parts on the corner.
+
+"Almost," says he. "But it's worth it. Marthy would have looked mighty
+stylish in that purple one. Yes, yes! And when I get back to South Forks,
+the first thing I do will be to carry it up on the knoll, box and all,
+and leave it there. I wonder if she'll know, eh?"
+
+There wa'n't any use in my tellin' him what I thought, though. He wa'n't
+talkin' to me, anyway. There was a kind of a far off, batty look in his
+eyes as he stood there on the corner, and a drop of brine was tricklin'
+down one side of his nose. So we never says a word, but just shakes
+hands, him goin' his way, and me mine.
+
+"Chee!" says Swifty Joe, when I shows up, along about three o'clock, "you
+must have been puttin' away a hearty lunch!"
+
+"It wa'n't that kept me," says I. "I was helpin' hand a late one to
+Marthy."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+HOW MAIZIE CAME THROUGH
+
+
+Then again, there's other kinds from other States, and no two of 'em
+alike. They float in from all quarters, some on ten-day excursions, and
+some with no return ticket. And, of course, they're all jokes to us at
+first, while we never suspicion that all along we may be jokes to them.
+
+And say, between you and me, we're apt to think, ain't we, that all the
+rapid motion in the world gets its start right here in New York? Well,
+that's the wrong dope. For instance, once I got next to a super-energized
+specimen that come in from the north end of nowhere, and before I was
+through the experience had left me out of breath.
+
+It was while Sadie and me was livin' at the Perzazzer hotel, before we
+moved out to Rockhurst-on-the-Sound. Early one evenin' we was sittin', as
+quiet and domestic as you please, in our twelve by fourteen cabinet
+finished dinin' room on the seventh floor. We was gazin' out of the open
+windows watchin' a thunder storm meander over towards Long Island, and
+Tidson was just servin' the demitasses, when there's a ring on the
+'phone. Tidson, he puts down the tray and answers the call.
+
+"It's from the office, sir," says he. "Some one to see you, sir."
+
+"Me?" says I. "Get a description, Tidson, so I'll know what to expect."
+
+At that he asks the room clerk for details, and reports that it's two
+young ladies by the name of Blickens.
+
+"What!" says Sadie, prickin' up her ears. "You don't know any young women
+of that name; do you, Shorty?"
+
+"Why not?" says I. "How can I tell until I've looked 'em over?"
+
+"Humph!" says she. "Blickens!"
+
+"Sounds nice, don't it?" says I. "Kind of snappy and interestin'. Maybe
+I'd better go down and----"
+
+"Tidson," says Sadie, "tell them to send those young persons up here!"
+
+"That's right, Tidson," says I. "Don't mind anything I say."
+
+"Blickens, indeed!" says Sadie, eyin' me sharp, to see if I'm blushin' or
+gettin' nervous. "I never heard you mention any such name."
+
+"There's a few points about my past life," says I, "that I've had sense
+enough to keep to myself. Maybe this is one. Course, if your
+curiosity----"
+
+"I'm not a bit curious, Shorty McCabe," she snaps out, "and you know it!
+But when it comes to----"
+
+"The Misses Blickens," says Tidson, holdin' back the draperies with one
+hand, and smotherin' a grin with the other.
+
+Say, you couldn't blame him. What steps in is a couple of drippy females
+that look like they'd just been fished out of a tank. And bein' wet
+wa'n't the worst of it. Even if they'd been dry, they must have looked
+bad enough; but in the soggy state they was the limit.
+
+They wa'n't mates. One is tall and willowy, while the other is short and
+dumpy. And the fat one has the most peaceful face I ever saw outside of a
+pasture, with a reg'lar Holstein-Friesian set of eyes,--the round, calm,
+thoughtless kind. The fact that she's chewin' gum helps out the dairy
+impression, too. It's plain she's been caught in the shower and has
+sopped up her full share of the rainfall; but it don't seem to trouble
+her any.
+
+There ain't anything pastoral about the tall one, though. She's alive all
+the way from her runover heels to the wiggly end of the limp feather that
+flops careless like over one ear. She's the long-waisted, giraffe-necked
+kind; but not such a bad looker if you can forget the depressin' costume.
+It had been a blue cheviot once, I guess; the sort that takes on seven
+shades of purple about the second season. And it fits her like a damp
+tablecloth hung on a chair. Her runnin' mate is all in black, and you
+could tell by the puckered seams and the twisted sleeves that it was an
+outfit the village dressmaker had done her worst on.
+
+Not that they gives us much chance for a close size-up. The lengthy one
+pikes right into the middle of the room, brushes a stringy lock of hair
+off her face, and unlimbers her conversation works.
+
+"Gosh!" says she, openin' her eyes wide and lookin' round at the rugs and
+furniture. "Hope we haven't pulled up at the wrong ranch. Are you Shorty
+McCabe?"
+
+"Among old friends, I am," says I, "Now if you come under----"
+
+"It's all right, Phemey," says she, motionin' to the short one. "Sit
+down."
+
+"Sure!" says I. "Don't mind the furniture. Take a couple of chairs."
+
+"Not for me!" says the tall one. "I'll stand in one spot and drip, and
+then you can mop up afterwards. But Phemey, she's plumb tuckered."
+
+"It's sweet of you to run in," says I. "Been wadin' in the park lake, or
+enjoyin' the shower?"
+
+"Enjoying the shower is good," says she; "but I hadn't thought of
+describing it that way. I reckon, though, you'd like to hear who we
+are."
+
+"Oh, any time when you get to that," says I.
+
+"That's a joke, is it?" says she. "If it is, Ha, ha! Excuse me if I don't
+laugh real hearty. I can do better when I don't feel so much like a
+sponge. Maizie May Blickens is my name, and this is Euphemia Blickens."
+
+"Ah!" says I. "Sisters?"
+
+"Do we look it?" says Maizie. "No! First cousins on the whiskered side.
+Ever hear that name Blickens before?"
+
+"Why--er--why----" says I, scratchin' my head.
+
+"Don't dig too deep," says Maizie. "How about Blickens' skating rink in
+Kansas City?"
+
+"Oh!" says I. "Was it run by a gent they called Sport Blickens?"
+
+"It was," says she.
+
+"Why, sure," I goes on. "And the night I had my match there with the
+Pedlar, when I'd spent my last bean on a month's trainin' expenses, and
+the Pedlar's backer was wavin' a thousand-dollar side bet under my nose,
+this Mr. Blickens chucked me his roll and told me to call the bluff."
+
+"Yes, that was dad, all right," says Maizie.
+
+"It was?" says I. "Well, well! Now if there's anything I can do for----"
+
+"Whoa up!" says Maizie. "This is no grubstake touch. Let's get that off
+our minds first, though I'm just as much obliged. It's come out as dad
+said. Says he, 'If you're ever up against it, and can locate Shorty
+McCabe, you go to him and say who you are.' But this isn't exactly that
+kind of a case. Phemey and I may look a bit rocky and---- Say, how do we
+look, anyway? Have you got such a thing as a----"
+
+"Tidson," says Sadie, breakin' in, "you may roll in the pier glass for
+the young lady." Course, that reminds me I ain't done the honors.
+
+"Excuse me," says I. "Miss Blickens, this is Mrs. McCabe."
+
+"Howdy," says Maizie. "I was wondering if it wasn't about due. Goshety
+gosh! but you're all to the peaches, eh? And me----"
+
+Here she turns and takes a full length view of herself. "Suffering
+scarecrows! Say, why didn't you put up the bars on us? Don't you look,
+Phemey; you'd swallow your gum!"
+
+But Euphemia ain't got any idea of turnin' her head. She has them
+peaceful eyes of hers glued to Sadie's copper hair, and she's contented
+to yank away at her cud. For a consistent and perseverin' masticator, she
+has our friend Fletcher chewed to a standstill. Maizie is soon satisfied
+with her survey.
+
+"That'll do, take it away," says she. "If I ever get real stuck on
+myself, I'll have something to remember. But, as I was sayin', this is no
+case of an escape from the poor farm. We wore these Hetty Green togs when
+we left Dobie."
+
+"Dobie?" says I.
+
+"Go on, laugh!" says Maizie. "Dobie's the biggest joke and the slowest
+four corners in the State of Minnesota, and that's putting it strong.
+Look at Phemey; she's a native."
+
+Well, we looked at Phemey. Couldn't help it. Euphemia don't seem to mind.
+She don't even grin; but just goes on workin' her jaws and lookin'
+placid.
+
+"Out in Dobie that would pass for hysterics," says Maizie. "The only way
+they could account for me was by saying that I was born crazy in another
+State. I've had a good many kinds of hard luck; but being born in Dobie
+wasn't one of the varieties. Now can you stand the story of my life?"
+
+"Miss Blickens," says I, "I'm willin' to pay you by the hour."
+
+"It isn't so bad as all that," says she, "because precious little has
+ever happened to me. It's what's going to happen that I'm living for.
+But, to take a fair start, we'll begin with dad. When they called him
+Sport Blickens, they didn't stretch their imaginations. He was all
+that--and not much else. All I know about maw is that she was one of
+three, and that I was born in the back room of a Denver dance hall. I've
+got a picture of her, wearing tights and a tin helmet, and dad says she
+was a hummer. He ought to know; he was a pretty good judge.
+
+"As I wasn't much over two days old when they had the funeral, I can't
+add anything more about maw. And the history I could write of dad would
+make a mighty slim book. Running roller skating rinks was the most
+genteel business he ever got into, I guess. His regular profession was
+faro. It's an unhealthy game, especially in those gold camps where they
+shoot so impetuous. He got over the effects of two .38's dealt him by a
+halfbreed Sioux; but when a real bad man from Taunton, Massachusetts,
+opened up on him across the table with a .45, he just naturally got
+discouraged. Good old dad! He meant well when he left me in Dobie and had
+me adopted by Uncle Hen. Phemey, you needn't listen to this next
+chapter."
+
+Euphemia, she misses two jaw strokes in succession, rolls her eyes at
+Maizie May for a second, and then strikes her reg'lar gait again.
+
+"Excuse her getting excited like that," says Maizie; "but Uncle Hen--that
+was her old man, of course--hasn't been planted long. He lasted until
+three weeks ago. He was an awful good man, Uncle Hen was--to himself. He
+had the worst case of ingrowing religion you ever saw. Why, he had a
+thumb felon once, and when the doctor came to lance it Uncle Hen made him
+wait until he could call in the minister, so it could be opened with
+prayer.
+
+"Sundays he made us go to church twice, and the rest of the day he talked
+to us about our souls. Between times he ran the Palace Emporium; that is,
+he and I and a half baked Swede by the name of Jens Torkil did. To look
+at Jens you wouldn't have thought he could have been taught the
+difference between a can of salmon and a patent corn planter; but say,
+Uncle Hen had him trained to make short change and weigh his hand with
+every piece of salt pork, almost as slick as he could do it himself.
+
+"All I had to do was to tend the drygoods, candy, and drug counters, look
+after the post-office window, keep the books, and manage the telephone
+exchange. Euphemia had the softest snap, though. She did the housework,
+planted the garden, raised chickens, fed the hogs, and scrubbed the
+floors. Have I got the catalogue right, Phemey?"
+
+Euphemia blinks twice, kind of reminiscent; but nothin' in the shape of
+words gets through the gum.
+
+"She has such an emotional nature!" says Maizie. "Uncle Hen was like that
+too. But let's not linger over him. He's gone. The last thing he did was
+to let go of a dollar fifty in cash that I held him up for so Phemey and
+I could go into Duluth and see a show. The end came early next day, and
+whether it was from shock or enlargement of the heart, no one will ever
+know.
+
+"It was an awful blow to us all. We went around in a daze for nearly a
+week, hardly daring to believe that it could be so. Jens broke the spell
+for us. One morning I caught him helping himself to a cigar out of the
+two-fer box. 'Why not?' says he. Next Phemey walks in, swipes a package
+of wintergreen gum, and feeds it all in at once. She says, 'Why not?'
+too. Then I woke up. 'You're right,' says I. 'Enjoy yourself. It's time.'
+Next I hints to her that there are bigger and brighter spots on this
+earth than Dobie, and asks her what she says to selling the Emporium and
+hunting them up. 'I don't care,' says she, and that was a good deal of a
+speech for her to make. 'Do you leave it to me?' says I. 'Uh-huh,' says
+she. 'We-e-e-ough!' says I," and with that Maizie lets out one of them
+backwoods college cries that brings Tidson up on his toes.
+
+"I take it," says I, "that you did."
+
+"Did I?" says she. "Inside of three days I'd hustled up four different
+parties that wanted to invest in a going concern, and before the week was
+over I'd buncoed one of 'em out of nine thousand in cash. Most of it's in
+a certified check, sewed inside of Phemey, and that's why we walked all
+the way up here in the rain. Do you suppose you could take me to some
+bank to-morrow where I could leave that and get a handful of green bills
+on account? Is that asking too much?"
+
+"Considering the way you've brushed up my memory of Sport Blickens," says
+I, "it's real modest. Couldn't you think of something else?"
+
+"If that had come from Mrs. McCabe," says she, eyin' Sadie kind of
+longin', "I reckon I could."
+
+"Why," says Sadie, "I should be delighted."
+
+"You wouldn't go so far as to lead two such freaks as us around to the
+stores and help us pick out some New York clothes, would you?" says she.
+
+"My dear girl!" says Sadie, grabbin' both her hands. "We'll do it
+to-morrow."
+
+"Honest?" says Maizie, beamin' on her. "Well, that's what I call right
+down decent. Phemey, do you hear that? Oh, swallow it, Phemey, swallow
+it! This is where we bloom out!"
+
+And say, you should have heard them talkin' over the kind of trousseaus
+that would best help a girl to forget she ever came from Dobie.
+
+"You will need a neat cloth street dress, for afternoons," says Sadie.
+
+"Not for me!" says Maizie. "That'll do all right for Phemey; but when it
+comes to me, I'll take something that rustles. I've worn back number
+cast-offs for twenty-two years; now I'm ready for the other kind. I've
+been traveling so far behind the procession I couldn't tell which way it
+was going. Now I'm going to give the drum major a view of my back hair.
+The sort of costumes I want are the kind that are designed this afternoon
+for day after to-morrow. If it's checks, I'll take two to the piece; if
+it's stripes, I want to make a circus zebra look like a clipped mule. And
+I want a change for every day in the week."
+
+"But, my dear girl," says Sadie, "can you afford to----"
+
+"You bet I can!" says Maizie. "My share of Uncle Hen's pile is forty-five
+hundred dollars, and while it lasts I'm going to have the lilies of the
+field looking like the flowers you see on attic wall paper. I don't care
+what I have to eat, or where I stay; but when it comes to clothes, show
+me the limit! But say, I guess it's time we were getting back to our
+boarding-house. Wake up, Phemey!"
+
+Well, I pilots 'em out to Fifth-ave., stows 'em into a motor stage, and
+heads 'em down town.
+
+"Whew!" says Sadie, when I gets back. "I suppose that is a sample of
+Western breeziness."
+
+"It's more'n a sample," says I. "But I can see her finish, though. Inside
+of three months all she'll have left to show for her wad will be a trunk
+full of fancy regalia and a board bill. Then it will be Maizie hunting a
+job in some beanery."
+
+"Oh, I shall talk her out of that nonsense," says Sadie. "What she ought
+to do is to take a course in stenography and shorthand."
+
+Yes, we laid out a full programme for Maizie, and had her earnin' her
+little twenty a week, with Phemey keepin' house for both of 'em in a nice
+little four-room flat. And in the mornin' I helps her deposit the
+certified check, and then turns the pair over to Sadie for an assault on
+the department stores, with a call at a business college as a finish for
+the day, as we'd planned.
+
+When I gets home that night I finds Sadie all fagged out and drinkin'
+bromo seltzer for a headache.
+
+"What's wrong?" says I.
+
+"Nothing," says Sadie; "only I've been having the time of my life."
+
+"Buying tailor made uniforms for the Misses Blickens?" says I.
+
+"Tailor made nothing!" says Sadie. "It was no use, Shorty, I had to give
+in. Maizie wanted the other things so badly. And then Euphemia declared
+she must have the same kind. So I spent the whole day fitting them out."
+
+"Got 'em something sudden and noisy, eh?" says I.
+
+"Just wait until you see them," says Sadie.
+
+"But what's the idea?" says I. "How long do they think they can keep up
+that pace? And when they've blown themselves short of breath, what
+then?"
+
+"Heaven knows!" says Sadie. "But Maizie has plans of her own. When I
+mentioned the business college, she just laughed, and said if she
+couldn't do something better than pound a typewriter, she'd go back to
+Dobie."
+
+"Huh!" says I. "Sentiments like that has got lots of folks into
+trouble."
+
+"And yet," says Sadie, "Maizie's a nice girl in her way. We'll see how
+she comes out."
+
+We did, too. It was a couple of weeks before we heard a word from either
+of 'em, and then the other day Sadie gets a call over the 'phone from a
+perfect stranger. She says she's a Mrs. Herman Zorn, of West End-ave.,
+and that she's givin' a little roof garden theater party that evenin', in
+honor of Miss Maizie Blickens, an old friend of hers that she used to
+know when she lived in St. Paul and spent her summers near Dobie. Also
+she understood we were friends of Miss Blickens too, and she'd be pleased
+to have us join.
+
+"West End-ave.!" says I. "Gee! but it looks like Maizie had been able to
+butt in. Do we go, Sadie?"
+
+"I said we'd be charmed," says she. "I'm dying to see how Maizie will
+look."
+
+I didn't admit it, but I was some curious that way myself; so about
+eight-fifteen we shows up at the roof garden and has an usher lead us to
+the bunch. There's half a dozen of 'em on hand; but the only thing worth
+lookin' at was Maizie May.
+
+And say, I thought I could make a guess as to somewhere near how she
+would frame up. The picture I had in mind was a sort of cross between a
+Grand-st. Rebecca and an Eighth-ave. Lizzie Maud,--you know, one of the
+near style girls, that's got on all the novelties from ten bargain
+counters. But, gee! The view I gets has me gaspin'. Maizie wa'n't near;
+she was two jumps ahead. And it wa'n't any Grand-st. fashion plate that
+she was a livin' model of. It was Fifth-ave. and upper Broadway. Talk
+about your down-to-the-minute costumes! Say, maybe they'll be wearin'
+dresses like that a year from now. And that hat! It wa'n't a dream; it
+was a forecast.
+
+"We saw it unpacked from the Paris case," whispers Sadie.
+
+All I know about it is that it was the widest, featheriest lid I ever saw
+in captivity, and it's balanced on more hair puffs than you could put in
+a barrel. But what added the swell, artistic touch was the collar. It's a
+chin supporter and ear embracer. I thought I'd seen high ones, but this
+twelve-inch picket fence around Maizie's neck was the loftiest choker I
+ever saw anyone survive. To watch her wear it gave you the same
+sensations as bein' a witness at a hanging. How she could do it and keep
+on breathin', I couldn't make out; but it don't seem to interfere with
+her talkin'.
+
+Sittin' close up beside her, and listenin' with both ears stretched and
+his mouth open, was a blond young gent with a bristly Bat Nelson
+pompadour. He's rigged out in a silk faced tuxedo, a smoke colored, open
+face vest, and he has a big yellow orchid in his buttonhole. By the way
+he's gazin' at Maizie, you could tell he approved of her from the ground
+up. She don't hesitate any on droppin' him, though, when we arrives.
+
+"Hello!" says she. "Ripping good of you to come. Well, what do you think?
+I've got some of 'em on, you see. What's the effect?"
+
+"Stunning!" says Sadie.
+
+"Thanks," says Maizie. "I laid out to get somewhere near that. And, gosh!
+but it feels good! These are the kind of togs I was born to wear. Phemey?
+Oh, she's laid up with arnica bandages around her throat. I told her she
+mustn't try to chew gum with one of these collars on."
+
+"Say, Maizie," says I, "who's the Sir Lionel Budweiser, and where did you
+pick him up?"
+
+"Oh, Oscar!" says she. "Why, he found me. He's from St. Paul, nephew of
+Mrs. Zorn, who's visiting her. Brewer's son, you know. Money? They've got
+bales of it. Hey, Oscar!" says she, snappin' her finger. "Come over here
+and show yourself!"
+
+And say, he was trained, all right. He trots right over.
+
+"Would you take him, if you was me?" says Maizie, turnin' him round for
+us to make an inspection. "I told him I wouldn't say positive until I had
+shown him to you, Mrs. McCabe. He's a little under height, and I don't
+like the way his hair grows; but his habits are good, and his allowance
+is thirty thousand a year. How about him? Will he do?"
+
+"Why--why----" says Sadie, and it's one of the few times I ever saw her
+rattled.
+
+"Just flash that ring again, Oscar," says Maizie.
+
+"O-o-oh!" says Sadie, when Oscar has pulled out the white satin box and
+snapped back the cover. "What a beauty! Yes, Maizie, I should say that,
+if you like Oscar, he would do nicely."
+
+"That goes!" says Maizie. "Here, Occie dear, slide it on. But remember:
+Phemey has got to live with us until I can pick out some victim of
+nervous prostration that needs a wife like her. And for goodness' sake,
+Occie, give that waiter an order for something wet!"
+
+"Well!" says Sadie afterwards, lettin' out a long breath. "To think that
+we ever worried about her!"
+
+"She's a little bit of all right, eh?" says I. "But say, I'm glad I ain't
+Occie, the heir to the brewery. I wouldn't know whether I was engaged to
+Maizie, or caught in a belt."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+WHERE SPOTTY FITTED IN
+
+
+Also we have a few home-grown varieties that ain't listed frequent. And
+the pavement products are apt to have most as queer kinks to 'em as those
+from the plowed fields. Now take Spotty.
+
+"Gee! what a merry look!" says I to Pinckney as he floats into the studio
+here the other day. He's holdin' his chin high, and he's got his stick
+tucked up under his arm, and them black eyes of his is just sparklin'.
+"What's it all about?" I goes on. "Is it a good one you've just
+remembered, or has something humorous happened to one of your best
+friends?"
+
+"I have a new idea," says he, "that's all."
+
+"All!" says I. "Why, that's excuse enough for declarin' a gen'ral
+holiday. Did you go after it, or was it delivered by mistake? Can't you
+give us a scenario of it?"
+
+"Why, I've thought of something new for Spotty Cahill," says he,
+beamin'.
+
+"G'wan!" says I. "I might have known it was a false alarm. Spotty Cahill!
+Say, do you want to know what I'd advise you to do for Spotty next?"
+
+No, Pinckney don't want my views on the subject. It's a topic we've
+threshed out between us before; also it's one of the few dozen that we
+could debate from now until there's skatin' on the Panama Canal, without
+gettin' anywhere. I've always held that Spotty Cahill was about the most
+useless and undeservin' human being that ever managed to exist without
+work; but to hear Pinckney talk you'd think that long-legged,
+carroty-haired young loafer was the original party that philanthropy was
+invented for.
+
+Now, doing things for other folks ain't one of Pinckney's strong points,
+as a rule. Not that he wouldn't if he thought of it and could find the
+time; but gen'rally he has too many other things on his schedule to
+indulge much in the little deeds of kindness game. When he does start out
+to do good, though, he makes a job of it. But look who he picks out!
+
+Course, I knew why. He's explained all that to me more'n once. Seems
+there was an old waiter at the club, a quiet, soft-spoken, bald-headed
+relic, who had served him with more lobster Newburg than you could load
+on a scow, and enough highballs to float the _Mauretania_ in. In fact,
+he'd been waitin' there as long as Pinckney had been a member. They'd
+been kind of chummy, in a way, too. It had always been "Good morning,
+Peter," and "Hope I see you well, sir," between them, and Pinckney never
+had to bother about whether he liked a dash of bitters in this, or if
+that ought to be served frappe or plain. Peter knew, and Peter never
+forgot.
+
+Then one day when Pinckney's just squarin' off to his lunch he notices
+that he's been given plain, ordinary salt butter instead of the sweet
+kind he always has; so he puts up a finger to call Peter over and have a
+swap made. When he glances up, though, he finds Peter ain't there at
+all.
+
+"Oh, I say," says he, "but where is Peter?"
+
+"Peter, sir?" says the new man. "Very sorry, sir, but Peter's dead."
+
+"Dead!" says Pinckney. "Why--why--how long has that been?"
+
+"Over a month, sir," says he. "Anything wrong, sir?"
+
+To be sure, Pinckney hadn't been there reg'lar; but he'd been in off and
+on, and when he comes to think how this old chap, that knew all his
+whims, and kept track of 'em so faithful, had dropped out without his
+ever having heard a word about it--why, he felt kind of broke up. You
+see, he'd always meant to do something nice for old Peter; but he'd never
+got round to it, and here the first thing he knows Peter's been under the
+sod for more'n a month.
+
+That's what set Pinckney to inquirin' if Peter hadn't left a fam'ly or
+anything, which results in his diggin' up this Spotty youth. I forgot
+just what his first name was, it being something outlandish that don't go
+with Cahill at all; but it seems he was born over in India, where old
+Peter was soldierin' at the time, and they'd picked up one of the native
+names. Maybe that's what ailed the boy from the start.
+
+Anyway, Peter had come back from there a widower, drifted to New York
+with the youngster, and got into the waiter business. Meantime the boy
+grows up in East Side boardin'-houses, without much lookin' after, and
+when Pinckney finds him he's an int'restin' product. He's twenty-odd,
+about five feet eleven high, weighs under one hundred and thirty, has a
+shock of wavy, brick-red hair that almost hides his ears, and his chief
+accomplishments are playin' Kelly pool and consumin' cigarettes. By way
+of ornament he has the most complete collection of freckles I ever see on
+a human face, or else it was they stood out more prominent because the
+skin was so white between the splotches. We didn't invent the name Spotty
+for him. He'd already been tagged that.
+
+Well, Pinckney discovers that Spotty has been livin' on the few dollars
+that was left after payin' old Peter's plantin' expenses; that he didn't
+know what he was goin' to do after that was gone, and didn't seem to
+care. So Pinckney jumps in, works his pull with the steward, and has
+Spotty put on reg'lar in the club billiard room as an attendant. All he
+has to do is help with the cleanin', keep the tables brushed, and set up
+the balls when there are games goin' on. He gets his meals free, and six
+dollars a week.
+
+Now that should have been a soft enough snap for anybody, even the born
+tired kind. There wa'n't work enough in it to raise a palm callous on a
+baby. But Spotty, he improves on that. His idea of earnin' wages is to
+curl up in a sunny windowseat and commune with his soul. Wherever you
+found the sun streamin' in, there was a good place to look for Spotty. He
+just seemed to soak it up, like a blotter does ink, and it didn't disturb
+him any who was doin' his work.
+
+Durin' the first six months Spotty was fired eight times, only to have
+Pinckney get him reinstated, and it wa'n't until the steward went to the
+board of governors with the row that Mr. Cahill was given his permanent
+release. You might think Pinckney would have called it quits then; but
+not him! He'd started out to godfather Spotty, and he stays right with
+the game. Everybody he knew was invited to help along the good work of
+givin' Spotty a lift. He got him into brokers' offices, tried him out as
+bellhop in four diff'rent hotels, and even jammed him by main strength
+into a bank; but Spotty's sun absorbin' habits couldn't seem to be made
+useful anywhere.
+
+For one while he got chummy with Swifty Joe and took to sunnin' himself
+in the studio front windows, until I had to veto that.
+
+"I don't mind your friends droppin' in now and then, Swifty," says I;
+"but there ain't any room here for statuary. I don't care how gentle you
+break it to him, only run him out."
+
+So that's why I don't enthuse much when Pinckney says he's thought up
+some new scheme for Spotty. "Goin' to have him probed for hookworms?"
+says I.
+
+No, that ain't it. Pinckney, he's had a talk with Spotty and discovered
+that old Peter had a brother Aloysius, who's settled somewhere up in
+Canada and is superintendent of a big wheat farm. Pinckney's had his
+lawyers trace out this Uncle Aloysius, and then he's written him all
+about Spotty, suggestin' that he send for him by return mail.
+
+"Fine!" says I. "He'd be a lot of use on a wheat farm. What does Aloysius
+have to say to the proposition?"
+
+"Well, the fact is," says Pinckney, "he doesn't appear at all
+enthusiastic. He writes that if the boy is anything like Peter when he
+knew him he's not anxious to see him. However, he says that if Spotty
+comes on he will do what he can for him."
+
+"It'll be a long walk," says I.
+
+"There's where my idea comes in," says Pinckney. "I am going to finance
+the trip."
+
+"If it don't cost too much," says I, "it'll be a good investment."
+
+Pinckney wants to do the thing right away, too. First off, though, he has
+to locate Spotty. The youth has been at large for a week or more now,
+since he was last handed the fresh air, and Pinckney ain't heard a word
+from him.
+
+"Maybe Swifty knows where he roosts," says I.
+
+It was a good guess. Swifty gives us a number on Fourth-ave. where he'd
+seen Spotty hangin' around lately, and he thinks likely he's there yet.
+
+So me and Pinckney starts out on the trail. It leads us to one of them
+Turkish auction joints where they sell genuine silk oriental prayer rugs,
+made in Paterson, N. J., with hammered brass bowls and antique guns as a
+side line. And, sure enough, camped down in front on a sample rug, with
+his hat off and the sun full on him, is our friend Spotty.
+
+"Well, well!" says Pinckney. "Regularly employed here, are you, Spotty?"
+
+"Me? Nah!" says Spotty, lookin' disgusted at the thought. "I'm only
+stayin' around."
+
+"Ain't you afraid the sun will fade them curly locks of yours?" says I.
+
+"Ah, quit your kiddin'!" says Spotty, startin' to roll a fresh
+cigarette.
+
+"Don't mind Shorty," says Pinckney. "I have some good news for you."
+
+That don't excite Spotty a bit. "Not another job!" he groans.
+
+"No, no," says Pinckney, and then he explains about finding Uncle
+Aloysius, windin' up by askin' Spotty how he'd like to go up there and
+live.
+
+"I don't know," says Spotty. "Good ways off, ain't it!"
+
+"It is, rather," admits Pinckney; "but that need not trouble you. What do
+you think I am going to do for you, Spotty?"
+
+"Give it up," says he, calmly lightin' a match and proceedin' with the
+smoke.
+
+"Well," says Pinckney, "because of the long and faithful service of your
+father, and the many little personal attentions he paid me, I am going to
+give you---- Wait! Here it is now," and hanged if Pinckney don't fork
+over ten new twenty-dollar bills. "There!" says he. "That ought to be
+enough to fit you out well and take you there in good shape. Here's the
+address too."
+
+Does Spotty jump up and crack his heels together and sputter out how
+thankful he is? Nothin' so strenuous. He fumbles the bills over curious
+for a minute, then wads 'em up and jams 'em into his pocket. "Much
+obliged," says he.
+
+"Come around to Shorty's with your new clothes on to-morrow afternoon
+about four o'clock," says Pinckney, "and let us see how you look.
+And--er--by the way, Spotty, is that a friend of yours?"
+
+I'd been noticin' her too, standin' just inside the doorway pipin' us
+off. She's a slim, big-eyed, black-haired young woman, dressed in the
+height of Grand-st. fashion, and wearin' a lot of odd, cheap lookin'
+jewelry. If it hadn't been for the straight nose and the thin lips you
+might have guessed that her first name was Rebecca.
+
+"Oh, her?" says Spotty, turnin' languid to see who he meant. "That's
+Mareena. Her father runs the shop."
+
+"Armenian?" says I.
+
+"No, Syrian," says he.
+
+"Quite some of a looker, eh?" says I, tryin' to sound him.
+
+"Not so bad," says Spotty, hunchin' his shoulders.
+
+"But--er--do I understand," says Pinckney, "that there is--ah--some
+attachment between you and--er--the young lady?"
+
+"Blamed if I know," says Spotty. "Better ask her."
+
+Course, we couldn't very well do that, and as Spotty don't seem bubblin'
+over with information he has to chop it off there. Pinckney, though, is
+more or less int'rested in the situation. He wonders if he's done just
+right, handin' over all that money to Spotty in a place like that.
+
+"It wa'n't what you'd call a shrewd move," says I. "Seems to me I'd
+bought his ticket, anyway."
+
+"Yes; but I wanted to get it off my mind, you know," says he. "Odd,
+though, his being there. I wonder what sort of persons those Syrians
+are!"
+
+"You never can tell," says I.
+
+The more Pinckney thinks of it, the more uneasy he gets, and when four
+o'clock comes next day, with no Spotty showin' up, he begins to have
+furrows in his brow. "If he's been done away with, it's my fault," says
+Pinckney.
+
+"Ah, don't start worryin' yet," says I. "Give him time."
+
+By five o'clock, though, Pinckney has imagined all sorts of
+things,--Spotty bein' found carved up and sewed in a sack, and him called
+into court to testify as to where he saw him last. "And all because I
+gave him that money!" he groans.
+
+"Say, can it!" says I. "Them sensation pictures of yours are makin' me
+nervous. Here, I'll go down and see if they've finished wipin' off the
+daggers, while you send Swifty out after something soothin'."
+
+With that off I hikes as a rescue expedition. I finds the red flag still
+out, the sample rug still in place; but there's no Spotty in evidence.
+Neither is there any sign of the girl. So I walks into the store, gazin'
+around sharp for any stains on the floor.
+
+Out from behind a curtain at the far end of the shop comes a fat, wicked
+lookin' old pirate, with a dark greasy face and shiny little eyes like a
+pair of needles. He's wearin' a dinky gold-braided cap, baggy trousers,
+and he carries a long pipe in one hand. If he didn't look like he'd do
+extemporaneous surgery for the sake of a dollar bill, then I'm no judge.
+I've got in too far to look up a cop, so I takes a chance on a strong
+bluff.
+
+"Say, you!" I sings out. "What's happened to Spotty?"
+
+"Spot-tee?" says he. "Spot-tee?" He shrugs his shoulders and pretends to
+look dazed.
+
+"Yes, Spotty," says I, "red-headed, freckle-faced young gent. You know
+him."
+
+"Ah!" says he, tappin' his head. "The golden crowned! El Sareef
+Ka-heel?"
+
+"That's the name, Cahill," says I. "He's a friend of a friend of mine,
+and you might as well get it through your nut right now that if
+anything's happened to him----"
+
+"You are a friend of Sareef Ka-heel?" he breaks in, eyin' me suspicious.
+
+"Once removed," says I; "but it amounts to the same thing. Now where is
+he?"
+
+"For a friend--well, I know not," says the old boy, kind of hesitatin'.
+Then, with another shrug, he makes up his mind. "So it shall be. Come.
+You shall see the Sareef."
+
+At that he beckons me to follow and starts towards the back. I went
+through one dark room, expectin' to feel a knife in my ribs every minute,
+and then we goes through another. Next thing I knew we're out in a little
+back yard, half full of empty cases and crates. In the middle of a clear
+space is a big brown tent, with the flap pinned back.
+
+"Here," says the old gent, "your friend, the Sareef Ka-heel!"
+
+Say, for a minute I thought it was a trap he's springin' on me; but after
+I'd looked long enough I see who he's pointin' at. The party inside is
+squattin' cross-legged on a rug, holdin' the business end of one of these
+water bottle pipes in his mouth. He's wearin' some kind of a long bath
+robe, and most of his red hair is concealed by yards of white cloth
+twisted round his head; but it's Spotty all right, alive, uncarved, and
+lookin' happy and contented.
+
+"Well, for the love of soup!" says I. "What is it, a masquerade?"
+
+"That you, McCabe?" says he. "Come in and--and sit on the floor."
+
+"Say," says I, steppin' inside, "this ain't the costume you're going to
+start for Canada in, is it?"
+
+"Ah, forget Canada!" says he. "I've got that proposition beat a mile.
+Hey, Hazzam," and he calls to the old pirate outside, "tell Mrs. Cahill
+to come down and be introduced!"
+
+"What's that?" says I. "You--you ain't been gettin' married, have you?"
+
+"Yep," says Spotty, grinnin' foolish. "Nine o'clock last night. We're
+goin' to start on our weddin' trip Tuesday, me and Mareena."
+
+"Mareena!" I gasps. "Not the--the one we saw out front? Where you going,
+Niagara?"
+
+"Nah! Syria, wherever that is," says he. "Mareena knows. We're goin' to
+live over there and buy rugs. That two hundred was just what we needed to
+set us up in business."
+
+"Think you'll like it?" says I.
+
+"Sure!" says he. "She says it's fine. There's deserts over there, and you
+travel for days and days, ridin' on bloomin' camels. Here's the tent
+we're goin' to live in. I'm practisin' up. Gee! but this pipe is
+somethin' fierce, though! Oh, here she is! Say, Mareena, this is Mr.
+McCabe, that I was tellin' you about."
+
+Well, honest, I wouldn't have known her for the same girl. She's changed
+that Grand-st. uniform for a native outfit, and while it's a little gaudy
+in color, hanged if it ain't becomin'! For a desert bride I should say
+she had some class.
+
+"Well," says I, "so you and Spotty are goin' to leave us, eh?"
+
+"Ah, yes!" says she, them big black eyes of hers lightin' up. "We go
+where the sky is high and blue and the sun is big and hot. We go back to
+the wide white desert where I was born. All day we shall ride toward the
+purple hills, and sleep at night under the still stars. He knows. I have
+told him."
+
+"That's right," says Spotty. "It'll be all to the good, that. Mareena can
+cook too."
+
+To prove it, she makes coffee and hands it around in little brass cups.
+Also there's cakes, and the old man comes in, smilin' and rubbin' his
+hands, and we has a real sociable time.
+
+And these was the folks I'd suspected of wantin' to carve up Spotty! Why,
+by the looks I saw thrown at him by them two, I knew they thought him the
+finest thing that ever happened. Just by the way Mareena reached out sly
+to pat his hair when she passed, you could see how it was.
+
+So I wished 'em luck and hurried back to report before Pinckney sent a
+squad of reserves after me.
+
+"Well!" says he, the minute I gets in. "Let me know the worst at once."
+
+"I will," says I. "He's married." It was all I could do, too, to make him
+believe the yarn.
+
+"By Jove!" says he. "Think of a chap like Spotty Cahill tumbling into a
+romance like that! And on Fourth-ave!"
+
+"It ain't so well advertised as some other lanes in this town," says I;
+"but it's a great street. Say, what puzzled me most about the whole
+business, though, was the new name they had for Spotty. Sareef! What in
+blazes does that mean?"
+
+"Probably a title of some sort," says Pinckney. "Like sheik, I suppose."
+
+"But what does a Sareef have to do?" says I.
+
+"Do!" says Pinckney. "Why, he's boss of the caravan. He--he sits around
+in the sun and looks picturesque."
+
+"Then that settles it," says I. "Spotty's qualified. I never thought
+there was any place where he'd fit in; but, if your description's
+correct, he's found the job he was born for."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+A GRANDMOTHER WHO GOT GOING
+
+
+Ever go on a grandmother hunt through the Red Ink District? Well, it
+ain't a reg'lar amusement of mine, but it has its good points. Maybe I
+wouldn't have tackled it at all if I hadn't begun by lettin' myself get
+int'rested in Vincent's domestic affairs.
+
+Now what I knew about this Vincent chap before we starts out on the
+grandmother trail wouldn't take long to tell. He wa'n't any special
+friend of mine. For one thing, he wears his hair cut plush. Course, it's
+his hair, and if he wants to train it to stand up on top like a clothes
+brush or a blacking dauber, who am I that should curl the lip of scorn?
+
+Just the same, I never could feel real chummy towards anyone that sported
+one of them self raisin' crests. Vincent wa'n't one of the chummy kind,
+though. He's one of these stiff backed, black haired, brown eyed, quick
+motioned, sharp spoken ducks, that wants what he wants when he wants it.
+You know. He comes to the studio reg'lar, does his forty-five minutes'
+work, and gets out without swappin' any more conversation than is
+strictly necessary.
+
+All the information I had picked up about him was that he hailed from up
+the State somewhere, and that soon after he struck New York he married
+one of the Chetwood girls. And that takes more or less capital to start
+with. Guess Vincent had it; for I hear his old man left him quite a wad
+and that now he's the main guy of a threshin' machine trust, or something
+like that. Anyway, Vincent belongs in the four-cylinder plute class, and
+he's beginnin' to be heard of among the alimony aristocracy.
+
+But this ain't got anything to do with the way he happened to get
+confidential all so sudden. He'd been havin' a kid pillow mix-up with
+Swifty Joe, just as lively as if the thermometer was down to thirty
+instead of up to ninety, and he's just had his rub down and got into his
+featherweight serge, when in drifts this Rodney Kipp that's figurin' so
+strong on the defense side of them pipe line cases.
+
+"Ah, Vincent!" says he.
+
+"Hello, Rodney!" says Vincent as they passes each other in the front
+office, one goin' out and the other comin' in.
+
+I'd never happened to see 'em meet before, and I'm some surprised that
+they're so well acquainted. Don't know why, either, unless it is that
+they're so different. Rodney, you know, is one of these light complected
+heavyweights, and a swell because he was born so. I was wonderin' if
+Rodney was one of Vincent's lawyers, or if they just belonged to the same
+clubs; when Mr. Kipp swings on his heel and says:
+
+"Oh, by the way, Vincent, how is grammy?"
+
+"Why!" says Vincent, "isn't she out with you and Nellie?"
+
+"No," says Rodney, "she stayed with us only for a couple of days. Nellie
+said she hadn't heard from her for nearly two months, and told me to ask
+you about her. So long. I'm due for some medicine ball work," and with
+that he drifts into the gym. and shuts the door.
+
+Vincent, he stands lookin' after him with a kind of worried look on his
+face that was comical to see on such a cocksure chap as him.
+
+"Lost somebody, have you?" says I.
+
+"Why--er--I don't know," says Vincent, runnin' his fingers through the
+bristles that waves above his noble brow. "It's grandmother. I can't
+imagine where she can be."
+
+"You must have grandmothers to burn," says I, "if they're so plenty with
+you that you can mislay one now and then without missin' her."
+
+"Eh?" says he. "No, no! She is really my mother, you know. I've got into
+the way of calling her grammy only during the last three or four years."
+
+"Oh, I see!" says I. "The grandmother habit is something she's contracted
+comparative recent, eh? Ain't gone to her head, has it?"
+
+Vincent couldn't say; but by the time he's quit tryin' to explain what
+has happened I've got the whole story. First off he points out that
+Rodney Kipp, havin' married his sister Nellie, is his brother-in-law,
+and, as they both have a couple of youngsters, it makes Vincent's mother
+a grammy in both families.
+
+"Sure," says I. "I know how that works out. She stays part of the time
+with you, and makes herself mighty popular with your kids; then she takes
+her trunk over to Rodney's and goes through the same performance there.
+And when she goes visitin' other places there's a great howl all round.
+That's it, ain't it?"
+
+It wa'n't, not within a mile, and I'd showed up my low, common breedin'
+by suggesting such a thing. As gently as he could without hurtin' my
+feelin's too much, Vincent explains that while my programme might be
+strictly camel's foot for ordinary people, the domestic arrangements of
+the upper classes was run on different lines. For instance, his little
+Algernon Chetwood could speak nothing but French, that bein' the brand of
+governess he'd always had, and so he naturally couldn't be very thick
+with a grandmother that didn't understand a word of his lingo.
+
+"Besides," says Vincent, "mother and my wife, I regret to say, have never
+found each other very congenial."
+
+I might have guessed it if I'd stopped to think of how an old lady from
+the country would hitch with one of them high flyin' Chetwood girls.
+
+"Then she hangs out with your sister, eh, and does her grandmother act
+there?" says I.
+
+"Well, hardly," says Vincent, colorin' up a little. "You see, Rodney has
+never been very intimate with the rest of our family. He's a Kipp,
+and---- Well, you can't blame him; for mother is rather old-fashioned. Of
+course, she's good and kind-hearted and all that; but--but there isn't
+much style about her."
+
+"Still sticks to the polonaise of '81, and wears a straw lid she bought
+durin' the Centennial, eh?" says I.
+
+Vincent says that about tells the story.
+
+"And where is it she's been livin' all this time that you've been gettin'
+on so well in New York?" says I.
+
+"In our old home, Tonawanda," says he, shudderin' some as he lets go of
+the name. "It's where she should have stayed, too!"
+
+"So-o-o-o?" says I. I'd been listenin' just out of politeness up to that
+point; but from then on I got int'rested, and I don't let up until I've
+pumped out of him all the details about just how much of a nuisance an
+old, back number mother could be to a couple of ambitious young folks
+that had grown up and married into the swell mob.
+
+It was a case that ought to be held up as a warnin' to lots of
+superfluous old mothers that ain't got any better taste than to keep on
+livin' long after there's any use for 'em. Mother Vincent hadn't made
+much trouble at first, for she'd had an old maid sister to take care of;
+but when a bad case of the grip got Aunt Sophrony durin' the previous
+winter, mother was left sort of floatin' around.
+
+She tried visitin' back and forth between Vincent and Nellie just one
+consecutive trip, and the experiment was such a frost that it caused
+ructions in both families. In her Tonawanda regalia mother wa'n't an
+exhibit that any English butler could be expected to pass the soup to and
+still keep a straight face.
+
+So Vincent thinks it's time to anchor her permanent somewhere. Accordin'
+to his notion, he did the handsome thing too. He buys her a nice little
+farm about a mile outside of Tonawanda, a place with a fine view of the
+railroad tracks on the west and a row of brick yards to the east, and he
+lands mother there with a toothless old German housekeeper for company.
+He tells her he's settled a good comfortable income on her for life, and
+leaves her to enjoy herself.
+
+But look at the ingratitude a parent can work up! She ain't been there
+more'n a couple of months before she begins complainin' about bein'
+lonesome. She don't see much of the Tonawanda folks now, the housekeeper
+ain't very sociable, the smoke from the brick yards yellows her Monday
+wash, and the people she sees goin' by in the cars is all strangers.
+Couldn't Vincent swap the farm for one near New York? She liked the looks
+of the place when she was there, and wouldn't mind being closer.
+
+"Of course," says he, "that was out of the question!"
+
+"Oh, sure!" says I. "How absurd! But what's the contents of this late
+bulletin about her being a stray?"
+
+It was nothing more or less than that the old girl had sold up the farm a
+couple of months back, fired the housekeeper, and quietly skipped for New
+York. Vincent had looked for her to show up at his house, and when she
+didn't he figured she must have gone to Nellie's. It was only when Rodney
+Kipp fires the grammy question at him that he sees he's made a wrong
+calculation and begins havin' cold feet.
+
+"If she's here, alone in New York, there's no knowing what may be
+happening to her," says he. "Why, she knows nothing about the city,
+nothing at all! She might get run over, or fall in with disreputable
+people, or----" The other pictures was so horrible he passes 'em up.
+
+"Mothers must be a great care," says I. "I ain't had one for so long I
+can't say on my own hook; but I judge that you and sister has had a hard
+time of it with yours. Excuse me, though, if I don't shed any tears of
+sympathy, Vincent."
+
+He looks at me kind of sharp at that; but he's too busy with disturbin'
+thoughts to ask what I mean. Maybe he'd found out if he had. It's just as
+well he didn't; for I was some curious to see what would be his next
+move. From his talk it's plain Vincent is most worried about the chances
+of the old lady's doin' something that would get her name into the
+papers, and he says right off that he won't rest easy until he's found
+her and shooed her back to the fields.
+
+"But where am I to look first?" says he. "How am I to begin?"
+
+"It's a big town to haul a dragnet through, that's a fact," says I. "Why
+don't you call in Brother-in-Law Rodney, for a starter?"
+
+"No, no," says Vincent, glancin' uneasy at the gym. door. "I don't care
+to have him know anything about it."
+
+"Maybe sister might have some information," says I. "There's the
+'phone."
+
+"Thanks," says he. "If you don't mind, I will call her up at the Kipp
+country place."
+
+He does; but Nellie ain't heard a word from mother; thought she must be
+with Vincent all this time; and has been too busy givin' house parties to
+find out.
+
+"Have her cross examine the maids," says I. "The old lady may have left
+some orders about forwardin' her mail."
+
+That was the clew. Inside of ten minutes Nellie 'phones back and gives a
+number on West 21st-st.
+
+"Gee!" says I. "A hamfatters' boardin'-house, I'll bet a bag of beans!
+Grandmother has sure picked out a lively lodgin'-place."
+
+"Horrible!" says Vincent. "I must get her away from there at once. But I
+wish there was someone who----Shorty, could I get you to go along with me
+and----"
+
+"Rescuin' grandmothers ain't my long suit," says I; "but I'll admit I'm
+some int'rested in this case. Come on."
+
+By the time our clockwork cab fetches up in front of the prunery it's
+after six o'clock. There's no mistakin' the sort of histrionic asylum it
+was, either. A hungry lookin' bunch of actorets was lined up on the front
+steps, everyone of 'em with an ear stretched out for the dinner bell. In
+the window of the first floor front was a beauty doctor's sign, a bull
+fiddle-artist was sawin' out his soul distress in the hall bedroom above,
+and up under the cornice the Chicini sisters was leanin' on the ledge and
+wishin' the folks back in Saginaw would send on that grubstake letter
+before the landlady got any worse. But maybe you've seen samples of real
+dogday tragedy among the profesh, when the summer snaps have busted and
+the fall rehearsals have just begun. What, Mabel?
+
+"It's a sure enough double-in-brass roost," says I. "Don't say anything
+that sounds like contract, or you'll be mobbed."
+
+But they sizes Vincent up for a real estate broker, and gives him the
+chilly stare, until he mentions the old lady's name. Then they thaws out
+sudden.
+
+"Oh, the Duchess!" squeals a couple in chorus. "Why, she always dines
+out, you know. You'll find her around at Doughretti's, on 27th-st."
+
+"Duchess!" says Vincent. "I--I'm afraid there's some mistake."
+
+"Not at all," says one of the crowd. "We all call her that. She's got
+Little Spring Water with her to-night. Doughretti's, just in from the
+avenue, is the place."
+
+And Vincent is the worst puzzled gent you ever saw as he climbs back into
+the cab.
+
+"It can't be mother they mean," says he. "No one would ever think of
+calling her Duchess."
+
+"There's no accountin' for what them actorines would do," says I.
+"Anyway, all you got to do is take a peek at the party, and if it's a
+wrong steer we can go back and take a fresh start."
+
+You know Doughretti's, if you don't you know a dozen just like it. It's
+one of these sixty-cent table dotty joints, with an electric name sign, a
+striped stoop awnin', and a seven-course menu manifolded in pale purple
+ink. You begin the agony with an imitation soup that looks like Rockaway
+beach water when the tide's comin' in, and you end with a choice of
+petrified cheese rinds that might pass for souvenirs from the Palisades.
+
+If you don't want to taste what you eat, you let 'em hand you a free
+bottle of pure California claret, vatted on East Houston-st. It's a
+mixture of filtered Croton, extra quality aniline dyes, and two kinds of
+wood alcohol, and after you've had a pint of it you don't care whether
+the milk fed Philadelphia chicken was put in cold storage last winter, or
+back in the year of the big wind.
+
+Madam Doughretti had just fed the Punk Lady waltz into the pianola for
+the fourth time as we pulls up at the curb.
+
+"It's no use," says Vincent. "She wouldn't be here. I will wait, though,
+while you take a look around; if you will, Shorty."
+
+On the way over he's given me a description of his missin' parent; so I
+pikes up the steps, pushes past the garlic smells, and proceeds to
+inspect the groups around the little tables. What I'm lookin' for is a
+squatty old party with gray hair pasted down over her ears, and a waist
+like a bag of hay tied in the middle. She's supposed to be wearin' a
+string bonnet about the size of a saucer, with a bunch of faded velvet
+violets on top, a coral brooch at her neck, and either a black alpaca or
+a lavender sprigged grenadine. Most likely, too, she'll be doin' the
+shovel act with her knife.
+
+Well, there was a good many kinds of females scattered around the coffee
+stained tablecloths, but none that answers to these specifications. I was
+just gettin' ready to call off the search, when I gets my eye on a couple
+over in one corner. The gent was one of these studio Indians, with his
+hair tucked inside his collar.
+
+The old girl facin' him didn't have any Tonawanda look about her, though.
+She was what you might call a frosted pippin, a reg'lar dowager dazzler,
+like the pictures you see on fans. Her gray hair has been spliced out
+with store puffs until it looks like a weddin' cake; her hat is one of
+the new wash basin models, covered with pink roses that just matches the
+color of her cheeks; and her peek-a-poo lace dress fits her like it had
+been put onto her with a shoe horn.
+
+Sure, I wa'n't lookin' for any such party as this; but I can't help
+takin' a second squint. I notices what fine, gentle old eyes she has, and
+while I was doin' that I spots something else. Just under her chin is one
+of them antique coral pins. Course, it looked like a long shot, but I
+steps out to the door and motions Vincent to come in.
+
+"I expect we're way off the track," says I; "but I'd like to have you
+take a careless glance at the giddy old party over under the kummel sign
+in the corner; the one facin' this way--there."
+
+Vincent gives a jump at the first look. Then he starts for her full tilt,
+me trailin' along and whisperin' to him not to make any fool break unless
+he's dead sure. But there's no holdin' him back. She's so busy chattin'
+with the reformed Sioux in store clothes that she don't notice Vincent
+until he's right alongside, and just as she looks up he lets loose his
+indignation.
+
+"Why, grandmother!" says he.
+
+She don't seem so much jarred as you might think. She don't even drop the
+fork that she's usin' to twist up a gob of spaghetti on. All she does is
+to lift her eyebrows in a kind of annoyed way, and shoot a quick look at
+the copper tinted gent across the table.
+
+"There, there, Vincent?" says she. "Please don't grandmother me; at
+least, not in public."
+
+"But," says he, "you know that you are a----"
+
+"I admit nothing of the kind," says she. "I may be your mother; but as
+for being anybody's grandmother, that is an experience I know nothing
+about. Now please run along, Vincent, and don't bother."
+
+That leaves Vincent up in the air for keeps. He don't know what to make
+of this reception, or of the change that happened to her; but he feels he
+ought to register some sort of a kick.
+
+"But, mother," says he, "what does this mean? Such clothes! And
+such--such"--here he throws a meanin' look at the Indian gent.
+
+"Allow me," says grandmother, breakin' in real dignified, "to introduce
+Mr. John Little Bear, son of Chief Won-go-plunki. I am very sorry to
+interrupt our talk on art, John; but I suppose I must say a few words to
+Vincent. Would you mind taking your coffee on the back veranda?"
+
+He was a well-trained red man, John was, and he understands the back out
+sign; so inside of a minute the crockery has been pushed away and I'm
+attendin' a family reunion that appears to be cast on new lines. Vincent
+begins again by askin' what it all means.
+
+"It means, Vincent," says she, "that I have caught up with the
+procession. I tried being the old-fashioned kind of grandmother, and I
+wasn't a success. Now I'm learning the new way, and I like it first
+rate."
+
+"But your--your clothes!" gasps Vincent.
+
+"Well, what of them?" says she. "You made fun of the ones I used to wear;
+but these, I would have you know, were selected for me by a committee of
+six chorus ladies who know what is what. I am quite satisfied with my
+clothes, Vincent."
+
+"Possibly they're all right," says he; "but how--how long have you been
+wearing your hair that way?"
+
+"Ever since Madam Montrosini started on my improvement course," says she.
+"I am told it is quite becoming. And have you noticed my new waist line,
+Vincent?"
+
+Vincent hadn't; but he did then, and he had nothin' to say, for she has
+an hourglass lookin' like a hitchin' post. Not bein' able to carry on the
+debate under them headings, he switches and comes out strong on what an
+awful thing it was for her to be livin' among such dreadful people.
+
+"Why," says grandmother, "they're real nice, I'm sure. They have been
+just as good to me as they could be. They take turns going out to dinner
+with me and showing me around the town."
+
+"Good heavens!" says Vincent. "And this--this Bear person, does he----"
+
+"He is an educated, full blooded Sioux," says grandmother. "He has toured
+Europe with Buffalo Bill, and just now he is an artists' model. He is
+very entertaining company, Johnny is."
+
+"Johnny!" gasps Vincent under his breath. That's the last straw. He lays
+down the law then and there to grandmother. If she ever expects him to
+recognize her again, she must shake this whole crowd and come with him.
+
+"Where to, Vincent?" says she.
+
+"Why, to my home, of course," says he.
+
+"And have your wife's maid speak of me as a dumpy old scarecrow? No,
+thank you!" and she calls the waiter to bring a demitasse with cognac.
+
+"But no one could call you that now, mother," says Vincent. "You--you're
+different, quite different."
+
+"Oh, am I?" says she.
+
+"To be sure you are," says he. "Julia and I would be glad to have you
+with us. Really, we would."
+
+She was a good natured old girl, grandmother was. She says she'll try it;
+but only on one condition. It was a corker, too. If she's going to give
+all her good friends at the actors' boardin' house the shake, she thinks
+it ought to be done at a farewell dinner at the swellest place in town.
+Vincent groans; but he has to give in. And that's how it happens the
+other night that about two dozen liberty people walked up from Appetite
+Row and fed themselves off Sherry's gold plates until the waiters was
+weak in the knees watchin' 'em.
+
+"Is the old lady still leadin' the band wagon, Vincent!" says I to him
+yesterday.
+
+"She is," says he, "and it is wonderful how young she has grown."
+
+"New York is a great place for rejuvenatin' grandmothers," says I,
+"specially around in the Red Ink Zone."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+A LONG SHOT ON DELANCEY
+
+
+Well, I've been slummin' up again. It happens like this: I was just
+preparin', here the other noontime, to rush around the corner and destroy
+a plate of lunch counter hash decorated with parsley and a dropped egg,
+when I gets this 'phone call from Duke Borden, who says he wants to see
+me the worst way.
+
+"Well," says I, "the studio's still here on 42d-st., and if your eyesight
+ain't failed you----"
+
+"Oh, chop it, can't you, Shorty?" says he. "This is really important.
+Come right up, can't you!"
+
+"That depends," says I. "Any partic'lar place?"
+
+"Of course," says he. "Here at the club. I'm to meet Chick Sommers here
+in half an hour. We'll have luncheon together and----"
+
+"I'm on," says I. "I don't know Chick; but I'm a mixer, and I'll stand
+for anything in the food line but cold egg. Scratch the chilled hen fruit
+and I'm with you."
+
+Know about Duke, don't you? It ain't much to tell. He's just one of these
+big, handsome, overfed chappies that help the mounted traffic cops to
+make Fifth-ave. look different from other Main-sts. He don't do any
+special good, or any partic'lar harm. Duke's got just enough sense,
+though, to have spasms of thinkin' he wants to do something useful now
+and then, and all I can dope out of this emergency call of his is that
+this is a new thought.
+
+That's the answer, too. He begins tellin' me about it while the head
+waiter's leadin' us over to a corner table. Oh, yes, he's going in for
+business in dead earnest now, y'know,--suite of offices, his name on the
+letterheads, and all that sort of thing, bah Jove!
+
+All of which means that Mr. Chick Sommers, who was a star quarterback in
+'05, when Duke was makin' his college bluff on the Gold Coast, has rung
+him into a South Jersey land boomin' scheme. A few others, friends of
+Chick's, are in it. They're all rippin' good fellows, too, and awfully
+clever at planning out things. Chick himself, of course, is a corker. It
+was him that insisted on Duke's bein' treasurer.
+
+"And really," says Duke, "about all I have to do is drop around once or
+twice a week and sign a few checks."
+
+"I see," says I. "They let you supply the funds, eh?"
+
+"Why, yes," says Duke. "I'm the only one who can, y'know. But they depend
+a great deal on my judgment, too. For instance, take this new deal that's
+on; it has all been left to me. There are one hundred and eighteen acres,
+and we don't buy a foot unless I say so. That's where you come in,
+Shorty."
+
+"Oh, do I?" says I.
+
+"You see," Duke goes on, "I'm supposed to inspect it and make a decision
+before the option expires, which will be day after to-morrow. The fact
+is, I've been putting off going down there, and now I find I've a winter
+house party on, up in Lenox, and---- Well, you see the box I'm in."
+
+"Sure!" says I. "You want me to sub for you at Lenox?"
+
+"Deuce take it, no!" says Duke. "I want you to go down and look at that
+land for me."
+
+"Huh!" says I. "What I know about real estate wouldn't----"
+
+"Oh, that's all right," says Duke. "It's only a matter of form. The boys
+say they want it, and I'm going to buy it for them anyway; but, just to
+have it all straight and businesslike, either I ought to see the land
+myself, or have it inspected by my personal representative. Understand?"
+
+"Duke," says I, "you're a reg'lar real estate Napoleon. I wouldn't have
+believed it was in you."
+
+"I know," says he. "I'm really surprised at myself."
+
+Next he explains how he happened to think of sendin' me, and casually he
+wants to know if a couple of hundred and expenses will be about right for
+spoilin' two days of my valuable time. How could I tell how much it would
+lose me? But I said I'd run the chances.
+
+Then Chick shows up, and they begin to talk over the details of this new
+bungalow boom town that's to be located on the Jersey side.
+
+"I tell you," says Chick, "it'll be a winner from the start. Why, there's
+every advantage anyone could wish for,--ocean breezes mingled with pine
+scented zephyrs, magnificent views, and a railroad running right through
+the property! The nearest station now is Clam Creek; but we'll have one
+of our own, with a new name. Clam Creek! Ugh! How does Pinemere strike
+you?"
+
+"Perfectly ripping, by Jove!" says Duke, so excited over it that he
+lights the cork end of his cigarette. "Shorty, you must go right down
+there for me. Can't you start as soon as you've had your coffee?"
+
+Oh, but it was thrillin', listenin' to them two amateur real estaters
+layin' plans that was to make a seashore wilderness blossom with
+surveyors' stakes and fresh painted signs like Belvidere-ave., Ozone
+Boulevard, and so on.
+
+It struck me, though, that they was discussin' their scheme kind of free
+and public. I spots one white haired, dignified old boy, doing the
+solitaire feed at the table back of Duke, who seems more or less
+int'rested. And I notices that every time Clam Creek is mentioned he
+pricks up his ears. Sure enough, too, just as we're finishing, he steps
+over and taps Duke on the shoulder.
+
+"Why, howdy do, Mr. Cathaway?" says Duke. "Charmed to see you, by Jove!"
+
+And it turns out he's DeLancey Cathaway, the big noise in the
+philanthropy game, him that gets up societies for suppressin' the poor
+and has his name on hospitals and iron drinkin' fountains. After he's
+been introduced all around he admits that he's caught one or two remarks,
+and says he wants to congratulate Duke on givin' up his idle ways and
+breakin' into an active career.
+
+Oh, he's a smooth old party, Mr. Cathaway is! He don't let on to be
+more'n moderately int'rested, and the next thing I know he's sidled away
+from Duke and is walkin' out alongside of me.
+
+"Going down town?" says he. "Then perhaps you will allow me to give you a
+lift?" and he motions to his town car waiting at the curb.
+
+"Gee!" thinks I. "I'm makin' a hit with the nobility, me and my winnin'
+ways!"
+
+That don't exactly state the case, though; for as soon as we're alone
+DeLancey comes right to cases.
+
+"I understand, Mr. McCabe," says he, "that you are to visit Clam Creek."
+
+"Yep," says I. "Sounds enticin', don't it?"
+
+"Doubtless you will spend a day or so there?" he goes on.
+
+"Over night, anyway," says I.
+
+"Hum!" says he. "Then you will hardly fail to meet my brother. He is
+living at Clam Creek."
+
+"What!" says I. "Not Broadway Bob?"
+
+"Yes," says he, "Robert and his wife have been there for nearly two
+years. At least, that is where I have been sending his allowance."
+
+"Mrs. Bob too!" says I. "Why--why, say, you don't mean the one that----"
+
+"The same," he cuts in. "I know they're supposed to be abroad; but
+they're not, they are at Clam Creek."
+
+Maybe you've heard about the Bob Cathaways, and maybe you ain't. There's
+so many new near-plutes nowadays that the old families ain't getting the
+advertisin' they've been used to. Anyway, it's been sometime since
+Broadway Bob had his share of the limelight. You see, Bob sort of had his
+day when he was along in his thirties, and they say he was a real
+old-time sport and rounder, which was why he was let in so bad when old
+man Cathaway's will was probated. All Bob pulls out is a couple of
+thousand a year, even that being handled first by Brother DeLancey, who
+cops all the rest of the pile as a reward for always having gone in
+strong for charity and the perfectly good life.
+
+It's a case where virtue shows up strong from the first tap of the bell.
+Course, Bob can look back on some years of vivid joy, when he was makin'
+a record as a quart opener, buyin' stacks of blues at Daly's, or over at
+Monte Carlo bettin' where the ball would stop. But all this ends mighty
+abrupt.
+
+In the meantime Bob has married a lively young lady that nobody knew much
+about except that she was almost as good a sport as he was, and they were
+doin' some great teamwork in the way of livenin' up society, when the
+crash came.
+
+Then it was the noble hearted DeLancey to the rescue. He don't exactly
+take them right into the fam'ly; but he sends Mr. and Mrs. Bob over to
+his big Long Island country place, assigns 'em quarters in the north
+wing, and advises 'em to be as happy as they can. Now to most folks that
+would look like landin' on Velveteen-st.,--free eats, no room rent, and a
+forty-acre park to roam around in, with the use of a couple of safe
+horses and a libr'y full of improvin' books, such as the Rollo series and
+the works of Dr. Van Dyke.
+
+Brother Bob don't squeal or whine. He starts in to make the best of it by
+riggin' himself out like an English Squire and makin' a stagger at the
+country gentleman act. He takes a real int'rest in keepin' up the grounds
+and managin' the help, which DeLancey had never been able to do himself.
+
+It's as dull as dishwater, though, for Mrs. Robert Cathaway, and as there
+ain't anyone else handy she takes it out on Bob. Accordin' to all
+accounts, they must have done the anvil chorus good and plenty. You can
+just see how it would be, with them two dumped down so far from Broadway
+and only now and then comp'ny to break the monotony. When people did
+come, too, they was DeLancey's kind. I can picture Bob tryin' to get
+chummy with a bunch of prison reformers or delegates to a Sunday school
+union. I don't wonder his disposition curdled up.
+
+If it hadn't been for Mrs. Bob, though, they'd been there yet. She got so
+used to rowin' with Bob that she kept it up even when Brother DeLancey
+and his friends came down. DeLancey stands for it until one morning at
+breakfast, when he was entertainin' an English Bishop he'd corraled at
+some conference. Him and the Bishop was exchangin' views on whether free
+soup and free salvation was a good workin' combination or not, when some
+little thing sets Mr. and Mrs. Bob to naggin' each other on the side. I
+forgot just what it was Bob shot over; but after standin' her jabs for
+quite some time without gettin' real personal he comes back with some
+stage whisper remark that cut in deep.
+
+Mrs. Bob was right in the act of helpin' herself to the jelly omelet,
+usin' a swell silver servin' shovel about half the size of a brick
+layer's trowel. She's so stirred up that she absentmindedly scoops up a
+double portion, and just as Bob springs his remark what does she do but
+up and let fly at him, right across the table. Maybe she'd have winged
+him too,--and served him right for saying what no gentleman should to a
+lady, even if she is his wife,--but, what with her not stoppin' to take
+good aim, and the maid's gettin' her tray against her elbow, she misses
+Bob by about three feet and plasters the English Bishop square between
+the eyes.
+
+Now of course that wa'n't any way to serve hot omelet to a stranger, no
+matter how annoyed you was. DeLancey told her as much while he was
+helpin' swab off the reverend guest. Afterwards he added other
+observations more or less definite. Inside of two hours Mr. and Mrs. Bob
+found their baggage waitin' under the porte cochere, and the wagonette
+ready to take 'em to the noon train. They went. It was given out that
+they was travelin' abroad, and if it hadn't been for the omelet part of
+the incident they'd been forgotten long ago. That was a stunt that stuck,
+though.
+
+As I looks at DeLancey there in the limousine I has to grin. "Say," says
+I, "was it a fact that the Bishop broke loose and cussed?"
+
+"That humiliating affair, Mr. McCabe," says he, "I would much prefer not
+to talk about. I refer to my brother now because, knowing that you are
+going to Clam Creek, you will probably meet him there."
+
+"Oh!" says I. "Like to have me give him your best regards!"
+
+"No," says DeLancey. "I should like, however, to hear how you found
+him."
+
+"Another report, eh!" says I. "All right, Mr. Cathaway, I'll size him up
+for you."
+
+"But chiefly," he goes on, "I shall depend upon your discretion not to
+mention my brother's whereabouts to anyone else. As an aid to that
+discretion," says he, digging up his roll and sortin' out some tens, "I
+am prepared to----"
+
+"Ah, button 'em back!" says I. "Who do you think you're dealin' with,
+anyway?"
+
+"Why," says he, flushin' up, "I merely intended----"
+
+"Well, forget it!" says I. "I ain't runnin' any opposition to the Black
+Hand, and as for whether I leak out where your brother is or not, that's
+something you got to take chances on. Pull up there, Mr. Chauffeur! This
+is where I start to walk."
+
+And say, you could put his name on all the hospitals and orphan asylums
+in the country; but I never could see it again without growin' warm under
+the collar. Bah! Some of these perfectly good folks have a habit of
+gettin' on my nerves. All the way down to Clam Creek I kept tryin' to
+wipe him off the slate, and I'd made up my mind to dodge Brother Bob, if
+I had to sleep in the woods.
+
+So as soon as I hops off the train I gets my directions and starts to
+tramp over this tract that Duke Borden was plannin' on blowin' some of
+his surplus cash against. And say, if anybody wants an imitation desert,
+dotted with scrub pine and fringed with salt marshes, that's the place to
+go lookin' for it. There's hundreds of square miles of it down there that
+nobody's usin', or threatenin' to.
+
+Also I walked up an appetite like a fresh landed hired girl. I was so
+hungry that I pikes straight for the only hotel and begs 'em to lead me
+to a knife and fork. For a wonder, too, they brings on some real food,
+plain and hearty, and I don't worry about the way it's thrown at me.
+
+Yon know how it is out in the kerosene district. I finds myself face to
+face with a hunk of corned beef as big as my two fists, boiled Murphies,
+cabbage and canned corn on the side, bread sliced an inch thick, and
+spring freshet coffee in a cup you couldn't break with an ax. Lizzie, the
+waitress, was chewin' gum and watchin' to see if I was one of them fresh
+travelin' gents that would try any funny cracks on her.
+
+I'd waded through the food programme as far as makin' a choice between
+tapioca puddin' and canned peaches, when in drifts a couple that I knew,
+the minute I gets my eyes on 'em, must be Mr. and Mrs. Bob Cathaway. Who
+else in that little one-horse town would be sportin' a pair of puttee
+leggin's and doeskin ridin' breeches? That was Bob's makeup, includin' a
+flap-pocketed cutaway of Harris tweed and a corduroy vest. They fit him a
+little snug, showin' he's laid on some flesh since he had 'em built. Also
+he's a lot grayer than I expected, knowin' him to be younger than
+DeLancey.
+
+As for Mrs. Bob--well, if you can remember how the women was dressin' as
+far back as two years ago, and can throw on the screen a picture of a
+woman who has only the reminders of her good looks left, you'll have her
+framed up. A pair of seedy thoroughbreds, they was, seedy and down and
+out.
+
+[Illustration: "I knew it must be Mr. and Mrs. Bob Cathaway"]
+
+I was wonderin' if they still indulged in them lively fam'ly debates, and
+how soon I'd have to begin dodgin' dishes; but they sits down across the
+table from me and hardly swaps a word. All I notices is the scornful way
+Lizzie asks if they'll have soup, and the tremble to Bob Cathaway's hand
+as he lifts his water tumbler.
+
+As there was only us three in the room, and as none of us seemed to have
+anything to say, it wa'n't what you might call a boisterous assemblage.
+While I was waitin' for dessert I put in the time gazin' around at the
+scenery, from the moldy pickle jars at either end of the table, over to
+the walnut sideboard where they kept the plated cake basket and the
+ketchup bottles, across to the framed fruit piece that had seen so many
+hard fly seasons, and up to the smoky ceilin'. I looked everywhere except
+at the pair opposite.
+
+Lizzie was balancin' the soup plates on her left arm and singsongin' the
+bill of fare to 'em. "Col'-pork-col'-ham-an'-corn-beef-'n'-cabbage," says
+she.
+
+If Bob Cathaway didn't shudder at that, I did for him. "You may bring
+me--er--some of the latter," says he.
+
+I tested the canned peaches and then took a sneak. On one side of the
+front hall was the hotel parlor, full of plush furniture and stuffed
+birds. The office and bar was on the other. I strolls in where half a
+dozen Clam Creekers was sittin' around a big sawdust box indulgin' in
+target practice; but after a couple of sniffs I concludes that the
+breathin' air is all outside.
+
+After half an hour's stroll I goes in, takes a lamp off the hall table,
+and climbs up to No. 7. It's as warm and cheerful as an underground beer
+vault. Also I finds the window nailed down. Huntin' for someone to fetch
+me a hammer was what sent me roamin' through the hall and took me past
+No. 11, where the door was part way open. And in there, with an oil-stove
+to keep 'em from freezin', I see Mr. and Mrs. Bob Cathaway sittin' at a
+little marble topped table playin' double dummy bridge. Say, do you know,
+that unexpected glimpse of this little private hard luck proposition of
+theirs kind of got me in the short ribs. And next thing I knew I had my
+head in the door.
+
+"For the love of Mike," says I, "how do you stand it?"
+
+"Eh?" says Bob, droppin' his cards and starin' at me. "I--I beg pardon?"
+
+Well, with that I steps in, tells him who I am, and how I'd just had a
+talk with Brother DeLancey. Do I get the glad hand? Why, you'd thought I
+was a blooming he angel come straight from the pearly gates. Bob drags me
+in, pushes me into the only rocker in the room, shoves a cigar box at me,
+and begins to haul decanters from under the washstand. They both asks
+questions at once. How is everybody, and who's married who, and are so
+and so still living together?
+
+I reels off society gossip for an hour before I gets a chance to do some
+pumpin' on my own hook. What I wants to know is why in blazes they're
+hidin' in a hole like Clam Creek.
+
+Bob only shrugs his shoulders. "Why not here as well as anywhere?" says
+he. "When you can't afford to live among your friends, why--you live in
+Clam Creek."
+
+"But two years of it!" says I. "What do you find to do?"
+
+"Oh, we manage," says he, wavin' at the double dummy outfit. "Babe and I
+have our little game. It's only for a dime a point; but it helps pass
+away the time. You see, when our monthly allowance comes in we divide it
+equally and take a fresh start. The winner has the privilege of paying
+our bills."
+
+How was that for excitement? And Bob whispers to me, as we starts out for
+a little walk before turnin' in, "I generally fix it so Babe--er, Mrs.
+Cathaway--can win, you know."
+
+From other little hints I gathers that their stay in Clam Creek has done
+one thing for 'em, anyway. It had put 'em wise to the great fact that the
+best way for two parties to get along together is to cut out the hammer
+music.
+
+"So you had a talk with DeLancey?" says Bob on the way back. "I suppose
+he--er--sent no message?"
+
+It had taken Bob Cathaway all this while to work up to that question, and
+he can't steady down his voice as he puts it. And that quaver tells me
+the whole story of how he's been hoping all along that Brother DeLancey
+would sometime or other get over his grouch. Which puts it up to me to
+tell him what a human iceberg he's related to. Did I? Honest, there's
+times when I ain't got much use for the truth.
+
+"Message?" says I, prompt and cheerful. "Now what in blazes was it he did
+say to tell you? Something about asking how long before you and Mrs.
+Cathaway was goin' to run up and make him a visit, I guess."
+
+"A visit!" gasps Bob. "Did--did DeLancey say that? Then thank Heaven it's
+over! Come on! Hurry!" and he grabs me by the arm, tows me to the hotel,
+and makes a dash up the stairs towards their room.
+
+"What do you think, Babe?" says he, pantin'. "DeLancey wants to know when
+we're coming back!"
+
+For a minute Mrs. Bob don't say a word, but just stands there, her hands
+gripped in Bob's, and the dew startin' out of her eye corners. Then she
+asks, sort of husky, "Isn't there a night train, Bob?"
+
+There wa'n't; but there was one at six-thirty-eight in the mornin'. We
+all caught it, too, both of 'em as chipper as a pair of kids, and me
+wonderin' how it was all goin' to turn out.
+
+For three days after that I never went to the 'phone without expectin' to
+hear from Bob Cathaway, expressin' his opinion about my qualifications
+for the Ananias class. And then here the other afternoon I runs into
+Brother DeLancey on the avenue, not seein' him quick enough to beat it up
+a side street.
+
+"Ah, McCabe," he sings out, "just a moment! That little affair about my
+Brother Robert, you know."
+
+"Sure, I know," says I, bracin' myself. "Where is he now?"
+
+"Why," says DeLancey, with never an eyelash flutterin', "he and his wife
+are living at Green Oaks again. Just returned from an extended trip
+abroad, you know." Then he winks.
+
+Say, who was it sent out that bulletin about how all men was liars? I
+ain't puttin' in any not guilty plea; but I'd like to add that some has
+got it down finer than others.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+PLAYING HAROLD BOTH WAYS
+
+
+Anyway, they came bunched, and that was some comfort. Eh? Well, first off
+there was the lovers, then there was Harold; and it was only the
+combination that saved me from developin' an ingrowin' grouch.
+
+You can guess who it was accumulated the lovers. Why, when Sadie comes
+back from Bar Harbor and begins tellin' me about 'em, you'd thought she'd
+been left something in a will, she's so pleased.
+
+Seems there was these two young ladies, friends of some friends of hers,
+that was bein' just as miserable as they could be up there. One was
+visitin' the other, and, as I made out from Sadie's description, they
+must have been havin' an awful time, livin' in one of them eighteen-room
+cottages built on a point juttin' a mile or so out into the ocean, with
+nothin' but yachts and motor boats and saddle horses and tennis courts
+and so on to amuse themselves with.
+
+I inspected some of them places when I was up that way not long
+ago,--joints where they get their only information about hot waves by
+readin' the papers,--and I can just imagine how I could suffer puttin' in
+a summer there. Say, some folks don't know when they're well off, do
+they?
+
+And what do you suppose the trouble with 'em was? Why, Bobbie and Charlie
+was missin'. Honest, that's all the place lacked to make it a suburb of
+Paradise. But that was enough for the young ladies; for each of 'em was
+sportin' a diamond ring on the proper finger, and, as they confides to
+Sadie, what was the use of havin' summer at all, if one's fiance couldn't
+be there?
+
+Bobbie and Charlie, it appears, was slavin' away in the city; one tryin'
+to convince Papa that he'd be a real addition to Wall Street, and the
+other trainin' with Uncle for a job as vice president of a life insurance
+company. So what did Helen and Marjorie care about sea breezes and
+picture postal scenery? Once a day they climbed out to separate perches
+on the rocks to read letters from Bobbie and Charlie; and the rest of the
+time they put in comparin' notes and helpin' each other be miserable.
+
+"Ah, quit it, Sadie!" says I, interruptin' the sad tale. "Do you want to
+make me cry?"
+
+"Well, they were wretched, even if you don't believe it," says she; "so I
+just told them to come right down here for the rest of the season."
+
+"Wha-a-at!" says I. "Not here?"
+
+"Why not?" says Sadie. "The boys can run up every afternoon and have
+dinner with us and stay over Sunday, and--and it will be just lovely. You
+know how much I like to have young people around. So do you, too."
+
+"Yes, that's all right," says I; "but----"
+
+"Oh, I know," says she. "This isn't matchmaking, though. They're already
+engaged, and it will be just delightful to have them with us. Now won't
+it?"
+
+"Maybe it will," says I. "We ain't ever done this wholesale before; so I
+ain't sure."
+
+Someway, I had a hunch that two pair of lovers knockin' around the
+premises at once might be most too much of a good thing; but, as long as
+I couldn't quote any authorities, I didn't feel like keepin' on with the
+debate.
+
+I couldn't object any to the style of the young ladies when they showed
+up; for they was both in the queen class, tall and willowy and sweet
+faced. One could tease opera airs out of the piano in great shape, and
+the other had quite some of a voice; so the prospects were for a few
+weeks of lively and entertainin' evenin's at the McCabe mansion. I had
+the programme all framed up too,--me out on the veranda with my heels on
+the rail, the windows open, and inside the young folks strikin' up the
+melodies and makin' merry gen'rally.
+
+Bobbie and Charles made more or less of a hit with me too when they first
+called,--good, husky, clean built young gents that passed out the cordial
+grip and remarked real hearty how much they appreciated our great
+kindness askin' 'em up.
+
+"Don't mention it," says I. "It's a fad of mine."
+
+Anyway, it looked like a good game to be in on, seein' there wa'n't any
+objections from any of the fam'lies. Made me feel bright and chirky, just
+to see 'em there, so that night at dinner I cut loose with some real cute
+joshes for the benefit of the young people. You know how easy it is to be
+humorous on them occasions. Honest, I must have come across with some of
+the snappiest I had in stock, and I was watchin' for the girls to pink up
+and accuse me of bein' an awful kidder, when all of a sudden I tumbles to
+the fact that I ain't holdin' my audience.
+
+Say, they'd started up a couple of conversations on their own hook--kind
+of side issue, soft pedal dialogues--and they wa'n't takin' the slightest
+notice of my brilliant efforts. At the other end of the table Sadie is
+havin' more or less the same experience; for every time she tries to cut
+in with some cheerful observation she finds she's addressin' either
+Marjorie's left shoulder or Bobbie's right.
+
+"Eh, Sadie?" says I across the centerpiece. "What was that last of
+yours?"
+
+"It doesn't matter," says she. "Shall we have coffee in the library,
+girls, or outside! I say, Helen, shall we have---- I beg pardon, Helen,
+but would you prefer----"
+
+"What we seem to need most, Sadie," says I as she gives it up, "is a
+table megaphone."
+
+Nobody hears this suggestion, though, not even Sadie. I was lookin' for
+the fun to begin after dinner,--the duets and the solos and the
+quartets,--but the first thing Sadie and I know we are occupyin' the
+libr'y all by ourselves, with nothing doing in the merry music line.
+
+"Of course," says she, "they want a little time by themselves."
+
+"Sure!" says I. "Half-hour out for the reunion."
+
+It lasts some longer, though. At the end of an hour I thinks I'll put in
+the rest of the wait watchin' the moon come up out of Long Island Sound
+from my fav'rite corner of the veranda; but when I gets there I finds
+it's occupied.
+
+"Excuse me," says I, and beats it around to the other side, where there's
+a double rocker that I can gen'rally be comfortable in. Hanged if I
+didn't come near sittin' slam down on the second pair, that was snuggled
+up close there in the dark!
+
+"Aha!" says I in my best comic vein. "So here's where you are, eh? Fine
+night, ain't it?"
+
+There's a snicker from the young lady, a grunt from the young gent; but
+nothing else happens in the way of a glad response. So I chases back into
+the house.
+
+"It's lovely out, isn't it?" says Sadie.
+
+"Yes," says I; "but more or less mushy in spots."
+
+With that we starts in to sit up for 'em. Sadie says we got to because
+we're doin' the chaperon act. And, say, I've seen more excitin' games. I
+read three evenin' papers clear through from the weather forecast to the
+bond quotations, and I finished by goin' sound asleep in my chair. I
+don't know whether Bobbie and Charlie caught the milk train back to town
+or not; but they got away sometime before breakfast.
+
+"Oh, well," says Sadie, chokin' off a yawn as she pours the coffee, "this
+was their first evening together, you know. I suppose they had a lot to
+say to each other."
+
+"Must have had," says I. "I shouldn't think they'd have to repeat that
+performance for a month."
+
+Next night, though, it's the same thing, and the next, and the next.
+"Poor things!" thinks I. "I expect they're afraid of being guyed." So,
+just to show how sociable and friendly I could be, I tries buttin' in on
+these lonely teeter-tates. First I'd hunt up one couple and submit some
+samples of my best chatter--gettin' about as much reply as if I was
+ringin' Central with the wire down. Then I locates the other pair, drags
+a rocker over near 'em, and tries to make the dialogue three handed. They
+stands it for a minute or so before decidin' to move to another spot.
+
+Honest, I never expected to feel lonesome right at home entertainin'
+guests! but I was gettin' acquainted with the sensation. There's no
+musical doings, no happy groups and gay laughter about the house; nothing
+but now and then a whisper from dark corners, or the creak of the porch
+swings.
+
+"Gee! but they're takin' their spoonin' serious, ain't they?" says I to
+Sadie. "And how popular we are with 'em! Makes me feel almost like I
+ought to put on a gag and sit down cellar in the coalbin."
+
+"Pooh!" says Sadie, makin' a bluff she didn't mind. "Do let them enjoy
+themselves in their own way."
+
+"Sure I will," says I. "Only this chaperon business is gettin' on my
+nerves. I don't feel like a host here; I feel more like a second story
+man dodgin' the night watchman."
+
+There wa'n't any signs of a change, either. When they had to be around
+where we was they had hardly a word to say and acted bored to death; and
+it must have taxed their brains, workin' up all them cute little schemes
+for leavin' us on a siding so they could pair off. Course, I've seen
+engaged couples before; but I never met any that had the disease quite so
+hard. And this bein' shunned like I had somethin' catchin' was new to me.
+I begun to feel like I was about ninety years old and in the way.
+
+Sunday forenoon was the limit, though. Sadie had planned to take 'em all
+for a motor trip; but they declines with thanks. Would they rather go out
+on the water? No, they didn't care for that, either. All they seems to
+want to do is wander round, two by two, where we ain't. And at that Sadie
+loses some of her enthusiasm for havin' bunches of lovers around.
+
+"Humph!" I hears her remark as she watches Bobbie and Marjorie sidestep
+her and go meanderin' off down a path to the rocks.
+
+A little while later I happens to stroll down to the summerhouse with the
+Sunday paper, and as I steps in one door Charlie and Helen slip out by
+the other. They'd seen me first.
+
+"Well, well!" says I. "I never knew before how unentertainin' I could
+be."
+
+And I was just wonderin' how I could relieve my feelin's without eatin' a
+fuzzy worm, like the small boy that nobody loved, when I hears footsteps
+approachin' through the shrubb'ry. I looks up, to find myself bein'
+inspected by a weedy, long legged youth. He's an odd lookin' kid, with
+dull reddish hair, so many freckles that his face looks rusty, and a pair
+of big purple black eyes that gazes at me serious.
+
+"Well, son," says I, "where did you drop from?"
+
+"My name is Harold Burbank Fitzmorris," says he, "and I am visiting with
+my mother on the adjoining estate."
+
+"That sounds like a full description, Harold," says I. "Did you stray
+off, or was you sent?"
+
+"I trust you don't mind," says he; "but I am exploring."
+
+"Explore away then," says I, "so long as you don't tramp through the
+flowerbeds."
+
+"Oh, I wouldn't think of injuring them," says he. "I am passionately fond
+of flowers."
+
+"You don't say!" says I.
+
+"Yes," says Harold, droppin' down easy on the bench alongside of me. "I
+love Nature in all her moods. I am a poet, you know."
+
+"Eh!" says I. "Ain't you beginning sort of young?"
+
+"Nearly all the really great men of literature," comes back Harold as
+prompt as if he was speakin' a piece, "have begun their careers by
+writing verse. I presume mine might be considered somewhat immature; but
+I am impelled from within to do it. All that will pass, however, when I
+enter on my serious work."
+
+"Oh, then you've got a job on the hook, have you!" says I.
+
+"I expect," says Harold, smilin' sort of indulgent and runnin' his
+fingers careless through his thick coppery hair, "to produce my first
+novel when I am twenty. It will have a somber theme, something after the
+manner of Turgenieff. Do you not find Turgenieff very stimulating?"
+
+"Harold," says I, "all them Hungarian wines are more or less heady, and a
+kid like you shouldn't monkey with any of 'em."
+
+He looks almost pained at that. "You're chaffing me now, I suppose," says
+he. "That sort of thing, though, I never indulge in. Humor, you know, is
+but froth on the deep seas of thought. It has never seemed to me quite
+worth one's while. You will pardon my frankness, I know."
+
+"Harold," says I, "you're a wizard. So it's nix on the josh, eh?"
+
+"What singular metaphors you employ!" says he. "Do you know, I can hardly
+follow you. However, colloquial language does not offend my ear. It is
+only when I see it in print that I shudder."
+
+"Me too," says I. "I'm just as sore on these foreign languages as anyone.
+So you're visitin' next door, eh? Enjoyin' yourself?"
+
+That was a plain cue for Harold Burbank to launch out on the story of his
+life; but, say, he didn't need any such encouragement. He was a willin'
+and ready converser, Harold was; and--my!--what a lot of classy words he
+did have on tap! First off I wondered how it was a youngster like him
+could dig up so many; but when I'd heard a little more about him I could
+account for it all.
+
+He'd cut his teeth, as you might say, on the encyclopedia. Harold's
+father had been a professor of dead languages, and I guess he must have
+died of it. Anyway, Mother was a widow, and from things Harold dropped I
+judged she was more or less frisky, spendin' her time at bridge and
+chasin' teas and dinner parties. It was clear she wa'n't any highbrow,
+such as Father must have been. All of which was disappointin' to Harold.
+He made no bones of sayin' so.
+
+"Why pretend to approve of one's parent," says he, "when approval is
+undeserved?"
+
+There was a lot of other folks that Harold disapproved of too. In fact,
+he was a mighty critical youth, only bein' able to entertain a good
+opinion of but one certain party. At any other time I expect he'd have
+given me an earache; but I'd been handed so much silence by our double
+Romeo-Juliet bunch that most any kind of conversation was welcome just
+then. So I lets him spiel away.
+
+And, say, he acts like he was hungry for the chance. Why, he gives me his
+ideas on every subject you could think of, from the way Napoleon got
+himself started on the toboggan, to the folly of eatin' fried ham for
+breakfast. He sure was a wonder, that kid! Two solid hours we chinned
+there in the summerhouse, and it was almost by main strength I broke away
+for a one o'clock dinner.
+
+Then, just as I'd got settled comf'table on the veranda in the afternoon,
+he shows up and begins again. There was nothin' diffident or backward
+about Harold. He didn't have any doubts about whether he was welcome or
+not, and his confidence about bein' able to entertain was amazin'.
+
+It didn't do any good to throw out hints that perhaps he was bein' missed
+at home, or to yawn and pretend you was sleepy. He was as persistent as a
+mosquito singin' its evenin' song, and most as irritatin'. Twice I gets
+up and pikes off, tryin' to shake him; but Harold trails right along too.
+Maybe I'd yearned for conversation. Well, I was gettin' it.
+
+At last I grows desp'rate, and in about two minutes more he would have
+been led home to Mother with the request that she tether him on her side
+of the fence, when I sees two of the lovers strollin' off to find a nook
+that wa'n't preempted by the other pair. And all of a sudden I has this
+rosy thought.
+
+"Harold," says I, "it's most too bad, your wastin' all this flossy talk
+on me, who can't appreciate its fine points as I should, when there go
+some young people who might be tickled to death to have you join 'em.
+Suppose you try cheerin' 'em up?"
+
+"Why," says Harold, "I had not observed them before. Thank you for the
+suggestion. I will join them at once."
+
+Does he? Say, for the next couple of hours I had the time of my life
+watchin' the maneuvers. First off I expect they must have thought him
+kind of cute, same as I did; but it wa'n't long before they begun tryin'
+to lose him. If they shifted positions once, they did a dozen times, from
+the summerhouse to the rocks, then up to the veranda and back again, with
+Harold Burbank taggin' right along and spoutin' his best. He tackles
+first one pair, and then the other, until fin'lly they all retreats into
+the house. Harold hesitates a little about walkin' through the door after
+'em, until I waves my hand cordial.
+
+"Make yourself right to home, Harold," says I. "Keep 'em cheered up."
+
+Not until he drives the girls off to their rooms and has Bobbie and
+Charles glarin' murderous at him, does he quit the sport and retire for
+supper.
+
+"Come over again this evenin'," says I. "You're makin' a hit."
+
+Harold thanks me some more and says he will. He's a great one to keep his
+word too. Bobbie and Marjorie have hardly snuggled up in one end of a
+hammock to watch the moon do things to the wavelets before here is
+Harold, with a fresh line of talk that he's bent on deliverin' while the
+mood is on.
+
+Gettin' no answer from his audience didn't bother him a bit; for passin'
+out the monologue is his strong suit. Not to seem partial, he trails down
+Charlie and Helen and converses with them too. Course, all this occurrin'
+outside, I couldn't watch everything that took place; but I sits in the
+lib'ry with Sadie a lot more contented than I'd been before that week.
+
+And when Marjorie drifts in alone, along about nine o'clock, and goes to
+drummin' on the piano, I smiles. Ten minutes later Helen appears too; and
+it's only when neither of the boys show up that I begins wonderin'. I
+asks no questions; but goes out on a scoutin' trip. There's nobody on the
+veranda at all. Down by the waterfront, though, I could hear voices, and
+I goes sleuthin' in that direction.
+
+"Yes," I could hear Harold sayin' as I got most to the boat landin', "the
+phosphorescence that ignorant sailors attribute to electricity in the air
+is really a minute marine animal which----"
+
+I expect I'll never know the rest; for just then there's a break in the
+lecture.
+
+"One, two, three--now!" comes from Bobbie, and before Harold can let out
+a single squeal they've grabbed him firm and secure, one by the heels and
+the other by the collar, and they've begun sousin' him up and down off
+the edge of the float. It was high tide too.
+
+"Uggle-guggle! Wow!" remarks Harold between splashes.
+
+"That's right," observes Charles through, his teeth. "Swallow a lot of
+it, you windbag! It'll do you good."
+
+Course, these young gents was guests of mine, and I hadn't interfered
+before with their partic'lar way of enjoyin' themselves; so I couldn't
+begin now. But after they was through, and a draggled, chokin',
+splutterin' youth had gone beatin' it up the path and over towards the
+next place, I strolls down to meet 'em as they are comin' up to the
+house.
+
+"Hope you didn't see what happened down there just now, Professor," says
+Bobbie.
+
+"Me?" says I. "Well, if I did I can forget it quick."
+
+"Thanks, old man!" says both of 'em, pattin' me friendly on the
+shoulder.
+
+"The little beast!" adds Charles. "He had the nerve to say you had put
+him up to it. That's what finally earned him his ducking, you know."
+
+"Well, well!" says I. "Such a nice spoken youngster too!"
+
+"Huh!" says Bobbie. "I suppose there'll be no end of a row about this
+when he gets home with his tale; but we'll stand for it. Meanwhile let's
+go up and get the girls to give us some music."
+
+Say, I don't believe Harold ever mentioned it to a soul. It's a funny
+thing too, but he hasn't been over here since. And someway, gettin'
+better acquainted with the boys in that fashion, made it pleasanter all
+round.
+
+But no more entertainin' lovers for us! Harolds ain't common enough.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+CORNELIA SHOWS SOME CLASS
+
+
+"Oh, by the way, Shorty," says Sadie to me the other mornin', just as I'm
+makin' an early get-away for town.
+
+"Another postscript, eh?" says I. "Well, let it come over speedy."
+
+"It's something for Mrs. Purdy-Pell," says she. "I'd almost forgotten."
+
+"Is it orderin' some fancy groceries, or sendin' out a new laundry
+artist?" says I. "If it is, why I guess I can----"
+
+"No, no," says Sadie, givin' my tie an extra pat and brushin' some
+imaginary dust off my coat collar; "it's about Cousin Cornelia. She's in
+town, you know, and neither of the Purdy-Pells can get in to see her
+before next week on account of their garden party, and Cornelia is
+staying at a hotel alone, and they're a little anxious about her. So look
+her up, won't you? I told them you would. You don't mind, do you?"
+
+"Me?" says I. "Why, I've been waitin' for this. Makin' afternoon calls on
+weepy old maids is my specialty."
+
+"There, there!" says Sadie, followin' me out on the veranda. "Don't play
+the martyr! Perhaps Cornelia isn't the most entertaining person in the
+world, for she certainly has had her share of trouble; but it isn't going
+to hurt you merely to find out how she is situated and ask if you can be
+of any help to her. You know, if there was anything she could do for us,
+she would----"
+
+"Oh, sure!" says I. "If I'm ever brought home on a shutter, I shall look
+for Cornelia to be waitin' on the mat with a needle and thread, ready to
+sew mournin' bands on the help."
+
+That seems to be Cousin Cornelia's steady job in life, tendin' out on the
+sick and being in at the obsequies. Anyway, she's been at it ever since
+we knew her. She's a cousin of Mr. Purdy-Pell's, and his branch of the
+fam'ly, being composed mainly of antiques and chronic invalids, has been
+shufflin' off in one way or another for the last three or four years at
+the rate of about one every six months.
+
+Course, it was kind of sad to see a fam'ly peter out that way; but, as a
+matter of fact, most of 'em was better off. At first the Purdy-Pells
+started in to chop all their social dates for three months after each
+sorrowful event; but when they saw they was being let in for a continuous
+performance, they sort of detailed Cousin Cornelia to do their heavy
+mournin' and had a black edge put on their stationery.
+
+Maybe Cornelia didn't exactly yearn for the portfolio; but she didn't
+have much choice about taking it. She was kind of a hanger-on, Cornelia
+was, you see, and she was used to going where she was sent. So when word
+would come that Aunt Mehitabel's rheumatism was worse and was threatenin'
+her heart, that meant a hurry call for Cousin Cornelia. She'd pack a
+couple of suit cases full of black skirts and white shirtwaists, and off
+she'd go, not showin' up again at the Purdy-Pells' town house until Aunty
+had been safely planted and the headstone ordered.
+
+You couldn't say but what she did it thorough, too; for she'd come back
+wearin' a long crape veil and lookin' pasty faced and wore out. Don't
+know as I ever saw her when she wa'n't either just comin' from where
+there'd been a funeral, or just startin' for where there was likely to be
+one.
+
+So she didn't cut much of a figure in all the gay doin's the Purdy-Pells
+was always mixed up in. And yet she wasn't such a kiln dried prune as you
+might expect, after all. Rather a well built party, Cornelia was, with a
+face that would pass in a crowd, and a sort of longin' twist to her mouth
+corners as if she wanted to crack a smile now and then, providin' the
+chance would only come her way.
+
+And it wa'n't hardly a square deal to list her with the U.B.'s as soon as
+we did; for all this time she was doing the chief mourner act she was
+engaged to young Durgin. First off it was understood that she was waitin'
+for him to settle on whether he was goin' to be a minister or a doctor,
+him fiddlin' round at college, now takin' one course and then another;
+but at last he makes up his mind to chuck both propositions and take a
+hack at the law.
+
+Durgin got there, too, which was more or less of a surprise to all hands,
+and actually broke in as partner in a good firm. Then it was a case of
+Durgin waitin' for Cornelia; for about that time the relations got to
+droppin' off in one-two-three order, and she seemed to think that so long
+as she'd started in on the job of ridin' in the first carriage, she ought
+to see it through.
+
+Whether it was foolish of her or not, ain't worth while debatin' now.
+Anyhow, she stuck to it until the last one had cashed in, puttin' Durgin
+off from month to month and year to year. Then it turns out that the last
+of the bunch, Uncle Theodore, had left her a good-sized wad that
+Purdy-Pell had always supposed was comin' to him, but which he didn't
+grudge to Cornelia a bit.
+
+So there she was, all the lingerin' ones off her hands, and her sportin'
+a bank account of her own. She's some tired out, though; so, after
+sendin' Durgin word that they might as well wait until fall now, she
+hikes off to some little place in New Hampshire and spends the summer
+restin' up. Next she comes down unexpected and hits New York.
+
+In the meantime, though, Durgin has suddenly decided to scratch his entry
+for that partic'lar Matrimonial Handicap. Not that he's seriously
+int'rested in somebody else, but he's kind of got weary hangin' around,
+and he's seen a few livelier ones than Cornelia, and he feels that
+somehow him and her have made a great mistake. You know how they're apt
+to talk when they get chilly below the ankles? He don't hand this
+straight out to Cornelia, mind you, but goes to Mrs. Purdy-Pell and Sadie
+with the tale, wantin' to know what he'd better do.
+
+Now I ain't got any grouch against Durgin. He's all right, I expect, in
+his way, more or less of a stiff necked, mealy mouthed chump, I always
+thought; but they say he's nice to his old mother, and he's makin' good
+in the law business, and he ain't bad to look at. The women folks takes
+his side right off. They say they don't blame him a bit, and, without
+stoppin' to think how Cousin Cornelia is going to feel left alone there
+on the siding, they get busy pickin' out new candidates for Durgin to
+choose from.
+
+Well, that's the situation when I'm handed this assignment to go and
+inspect the head of the Purdy-Pells' obituary department and see if she's
+all comfy. Couldn't have weighed very heavy on my mind; for I don't think
+of it until late afternoon, just as I'm startin' to pull out for home.
+Then I says to myself that maybe it'll do just as well if I ring her up
+on the 'phone at her hotel. She's in, all right, and I explains over the
+wire how anxious I am to know if she's all right, and hopes nobody has
+tried to kidnap her yet, and asks if there's anything I can do.
+
+"Why, how kind of you, Mr. McCabe!" says Cornelia. "Yes, I am perfectly
+well and quite safe here."
+
+"Good!" says I. And then, seein' how easy I was gettin' out of it, I has
+to pile on the agony a little by addin', "Ain't there some way I can be
+useful, though? No errands you want done, or any place you'd like to be
+towed around to, eh?"
+
+"Why--why----" says she, hesitatin'. "Oh, but I couldn't think of
+troubling you, you know."
+
+"Why not?" says I, gettin' reckless. "Just remember that I'd be tickled
+to death, any time you push the button."
+
+"We-e-ell," says she, "we were just wishing, Miss Stover and I, that we
+did have some gentleman friend who would----"
+
+"Count me in," says I. "What's the game? Trip to Woodlawn Cemetery some
+day, or do you want to be piloted up to Grant's Tomb?"
+
+No, it wa'n't either of them festive splurges she had in mind. They
+wanted a dinner escort for that evenin', she and Miss Stover. The other
+lady, she goes on to say, is a school teacher from up Boston way, that
+she'd made friends with durin' the summer. Miss Stover was takin' a year
+off, for the benefit of her nerves, and before she sailed on her Cook's
+trip abroad she thought she'd like to see a little of New York. They'd
+been tryin' to knock around some alone, and had got along all right
+daytimes, but hadn't dared venture out much at night. So if I wanted to
+be real generous, and it wouldn't be too much of a bore, they'd be very
+thankful if I would----
+
+"In a minute," says I and, seein' I was up against it anyhow, I thought I
+might as well do it cheerful. "I'll be up about six, eh?"
+
+"Chee!" says Swifty Joe, who always has his ear stretched out on such
+occasions, "you make a noise like you was fixin' up a date."
+
+"What good hearin' you have, Swifty!" says I. "Some day, though, you'll
+strain one of them side flaps of yours. Yes, this is a date, and it's
+with two of the sportiest female parties that ever dodged an old ladies'
+home."
+
+Excitin' proposition, wa'n't it? I spends the next half-hour battin' my
+head to think of some first class food parlor where I could cart a couple
+like this Boston schoolma'am and Cousin Cornelia without shockin' 'em.
+There was the Martha Washington; but I knew I'd be barred there. Also
+there was some quiet fam'ly hotels I'd heard of up town; but I couldn't
+remember exactly what street any of 'em was on.
+
+"Maybe Cornelia will have some plans of her own," thinks I, as I gets
+into my silk faced dinner jacket and V-cut vest. "And I hope she ain't
+wearin' more'n two thicknesses of crape veil now."
+
+Well, soon after six I slides out, hops on one of these shed-as-you-enter
+surface cars, and rides up to the hotel. I'd been holdin' down one of the
+velvet chairs in the ladies' parlor for near half an hour, and was
+wonderin' if Cornelia had run out of black headed pins, or what, when I
+pipes off a giddy specimen in wistaria costume that drifts in and begins
+squintin' around like she was huntin' for some one. Next thing I knew
+she'd spotted me and was sailin' right over.
+
+"Oh, there you are!" she gurgles, holdin' out her hand.
+
+"Excuse me, lady," says I, sidesteppin' behind the chair, "but ain't you
+tryin' to tag the wrong party?"
+
+"Why," says she, lettin' out a chuckle, "don't you know me, Mr. McCabe?"
+
+"Not yet," says I; "but it looks like I would if----Great snakes!"
+
+And honest, you could hardly have covered my face cavity with a waffle
+iron when I drops to the fact that it's Cousin Cornelia. In place of the
+dismal female I'd been expectin', here's a chirky party in vivid regalia
+that shows class in every line. Oh, it's a happy days uniform, all right,
+from the wide brimmed gauze lid with the long heliotrope feather trailin'
+over one side, to the lavender kid pumps.
+
+"Gee!" I gasps. "The round is on me, Miss Cornelia. But I wa'n't lookin'
+for you in--in----"
+
+"I know," says she. "This is the first time I've worn colors for years,
+and I feel so odd. I hope I don't look too----"
+
+"You look all to the skookum," says I.
+
+It wa'n't any jolly, either. There never was any real sharp angles to
+Cornelia, and now I come to reckon up I couldn't place her as more'n
+twenty-six or twenty-seven at the outside. So why shouldn't she show up
+fairly well in a Gibson model?
+
+"It's so good of you to come to our rescue," says she. "Miss Stover will
+be down presently. Now, where shall we go to dinner?"
+
+Well, I see in a minute I've got to revise my plans; so I begins namin'
+over some of the swell grillrooms and cafes.
+
+"Oh, we have been to most of those, all by ourselves," says Cornelia.
+"What we would like to see to-night is some real--well, a place where we
+couldn't go alone, out somewhere--an automobile resort, for instance."
+
+"Whe-e-ew!" says I through my front teeth. "Say, Miss Cornie, but you are
+gettin' out of the bereft class for fair! I guess it's comin' to you,
+though. Now jest let me get an idea of how far you want to go."
+
+"Why," says she, shruggin' her shoulders,--"how is it you put such
+things?--the limit, I suppose?"
+
+"Honest?" says I. "Then how about Clover Blossom Inn?"
+
+Heard about that joint, haven't you? Of course. There's a lot of joy-ride
+tank stations strung along Jerome-ave. and the Yonkers road; but when it
+comes to a genuine tabasco flavored chorus girls' rest, the Clover
+Blossom has most of the others lookin' like playgrounds for little
+mothers. But Cornie don't do any dodgin'.
+
+"Fine!" says she. "I've read about that inn." Then she hurries on to plan
+out the details. I must go over to Times Square and hire a nice looking
+touring car for the evening. And I mustn't let Miss Stover know how much
+it costs; for Cornelia wants to do that part of it by her lonely.
+
+"The dinner we are to go shares on," says she.
+
+"Couldn't think of it," says I. "Let that stand as my blow."
+
+"No, indeed," says Cornelia. "We have the money all put aside, and I
+sha'n't like it. Here it is, and I want you to be sure you spend the
+whole of it," and with that she shoves over a couple of fives.
+
+I couldn't help grinnin' as I takes it. Maybe you've settled a dinner
+bill for three and a feed for the shofer at the Clover Blossom; but not
+with a ten-spot, eh?
+
+And while Cornelia is goin' back in the elevator after the schoolma'am, I
+scoots over to get a machine. After convincin' two or three of them
+leather capped pirates that I didn't want to buy their blamed outfits, I
+fin'lly beats one down to twenty-five and goes back after the ladies.
+
+[Illustration: "Cornelia whispered about the peroxide puffed girl"]
+
+Miss Stover don't turn out to be any such star as Cornelia; but she don't
+look so much like a suffragette as I expected. She's plump, and middle
+aged, and plain dressed; but there's more or less style to the way she
+carries herself. Also she has just a suspicion of eye twinkle behind the
+glasses, which suggests that perhaps some of this programme is due to
+her.
+
+"All aboard for the Clover Blossom!" says I, handin' 'em into the
+tonneau; "that is, as soon as I run in here to the telephone booth."
+
+It had come to me only at that minute what a shame it was this stunt of
+Cornelia's was goin' to be wasted on an audience that couldn't appreciate
+the fine points, and I'd thought of a scheme that might supply the gap.
+So I calls up an old friend of mine and has a little confab.
+
+By the time we'd crossed the Harlem and had got straightened out on the
+parkway with our gas lamps lighted, and the moon comin' up over the
+trees, and hundreds of other cars whizzin' along in both directions,
+Cornelia and her schoolma'am friend was chatterin' away like a couple of
+boardin' school girls. There's no denyin' that it does get into your
+blood, that sort of ridin'. Why, even I begun to feel some frisky!
+
+And look at Cornelia! For years she'd been givin' directions about where
+to put the floral wreaths, and listenin' to wills being read, and all
+summer long she'd been buried in a little backwoods boardin' house, where
+the most excitin' event of the day was watchin' the cows come home, or
+going down for the mail. Can you blame her for workin' up a cheek flush
+and rattlin' off nonsense?
+
+Clover Blossom Inn does look fine and fancy at night, too, with all the
+colored lights strung around, and the verandas crowded with tables, and
+the Gypsy orchestra sawin' away, and new parties landin' from the
+limousines every few minutes. Course, I knew they'd run against perfect
+ladies hittin' up cocktails and cigarettes in the cloak room, and hear
+more or less high spiced remarks; but this was what they'd picked out to
+view.
+
+So I orders the brand of dinner the waiter hints I ought to have,--little
+necks, okra soup, broiled lobster, guinea hen, and so on, with a large
+bottle of fizz decoratin' the silver tub on the side and some sporty
+lookin' mineral for me. It don't make any diff'rence whether you've got a
+wealthy water thirst or not, when you go to one of them tootsy palaces
+you might just as well name your vintage first as last; for any cheap
+skates of suds consumers is apt to find that the waiter's made a mistake
+and their table has been reserved for someone else.
+
+But if you don't mind payin' four prices, and can stand the comp'ny at
+the adjoinin' tables, just being part of the picture and seeing it from
+the inside is almost worth the admission. If there's any livelier purple
+spots on the map than these gasolene road houses from eight-thirty P. M.
+to two-thirty in the mornin', I'll let you name 'em.
+
+Cornelia rather shies at the sight of the fat bottle peekin' out of the
+cracked ice; but she gets over that feelin' after Miss Stover has
+expressed her sentiments.
+
+"Champagne!" says the schoolma'am. "Oh, how perfectly delightful! Do you
+know, I always have wanted to know how it tasted."
+
+Say, she knows all about it now. Not that she put away any more'n a lady
+should,--at the Clover Blossom,--but she had tackled a dry Martini first,
+and then she kept on tastin' and tastin' her glass of fizz, and the
+waiter keeps fillin' it up, and that twinkle in her eye develops more and
+more, and her conversation gets livelier and livelier. So does
+Cornelia's. They gets off some real bright things, too. You'd never guess
+there was so much fun in Cornie, or that she could look so much like a
+stunner.
+
+She was just leanin' over to whisper something to me about the peroxide
+puffed girl at the next table, and I was tryin' to stand bein' tickled in
+the neck by that long feather of hers while I listens, and Miss Stover
+was snuggled up real chummy on the other side, when I looks up the aisle
+and sees a little group watchin' us with their mouths open and their
+eyebrows up.
+
+Leadin' the way is Pinckney. Oh, he'd done his part, all right, just as
+I'd told him over the wire; for right behind him is Durgin, starin' at
+Cornelia until he was pop eyed.
+
+But that wa'n't all. Trust Pinckney to add something. Beyond Durgin is
+Mrs. Purdy-Pell--and Sadie. Now, I've seen Mrs. McCabe when she's been
+some jarred; but I don't know as I ever watched the effect of such a jolt
+as this. You see, Cornelia's back was to her, and all Sadie can see is
+that wistaria lid with the feather danglin' down my neck.
+
+Sadie don't indulge in any preliminaries. She marches right along, with
+her chin in the air, and glues them Irish blue eyes of hers on me in a
+way I can feel yet. "Well, I must say!" says she.
+
+"Eh?" says I, tryin' hard to put on a pleased grin. "So Pinckney brought
+you along too, did he? Lovely evenin', ain't it?"
+
+"Why, Sadie?" says Cornelia, jumpin' up and givin' 'em a full face view.
+And you should have seen how that knocks the wind out of Sadie.
+
+"Wha-a-at!" says she. "You?"
+
+"Of course," says Cornie. "And we're just having the grandest lark,
+and----Oh! Why, Durgin! Where in the world did you come from? How
+jolly!"
+
+"Ain't it?" says I. "You see, Sadie, I'm carryin' out instructions."
+
+Well, the minute she gets wise that it's all a job that Pinckney and I
+have put up between us, and discovers that my giddy lookin' friend is
+only Cousin Cornelia doin' the butterfly act, the thunder storm is all
+over. The waiter shoves up another table, and they plants Durgin next to
+Cornie, and the festivities takes a new start.
+
+Did Durgin boy forget all about them chilly feet of his? Why, you could
+almost see the frost startin' out before he'd said a dozen words, and by
+the time he'd let the whole effect sink in, he was no nearer contractin'
+chilblains than a Zulu with his heels in the campfire.
+
+What pleases me most, though, was the scientific duck I made in the last
+round. We'd gone clear through the menu, and they was finishin' up their
+cordials, when I spots the waiter comin' with a slip of paper on his tray
+as long as a pianola roll.
+
+"Hey, Pinckney," says I, "see what's comin' now!"
+
+And when Pinckney reached around and discovers what it is, he digs down
+for his roll like a true sport, never battin' an eyelash.
+
+"You would ring in the fam'ly on me, would you," says I, "when I'm
+showin' lady friends the sights?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+DOPING OUT AN ODD ONE
+
+
+Say, notice any deep sea roll about my walk? No? Well, maybe you can get
+the tarry perfume as I pass by? Funny you don't; for I've been a Vice
+Commodore for most three weeks now. Yes, that's on the level--belay my
+spinnaker taffrail if it ain't!
+
+That's what I get for bein' one of the charter members of the Rockhurst
+Yacht Club. You didn't, eh? Well, say, I'm one of the yachtiest yachters
+that ever jibbed a gangway. Not that I do any sailin' exactly; but I
+guess Sadie and me each paid good money for our shares of club stock, and
+if that ain't as foolish an act as you can find in the nautical calendar,
+then I'll eat the binnacle boom.
+
+Course, this Vice Commodore stunt was sort of sprung on me; for I'd been
+such an active member I didn't even know the bloomin' clubhouse was
+finished until here the other day I gets this bulletin from the annual
+meetin', along with the programme for the openin' exercises.
+
+"Gee!" says I. "Vice Commodore! Say, there must be some mistake about
+this."
+
+"Not at all," says Sadie.
+
+"Sure there is," says I. "Why, I hardly know one end of a boat from the
+other; and besides I ain't got any clubby habits. They've been let in
+wrong, that's all. I'll resign."
+
+"You'll do nothing of the sort!" says Sadie. "When I took all that
+trouble to have you win over that ridiculous Bronson-Smith!"
+
+"Eh?" says I. "Been playin' the Mrs. Taft, have you? In that case, I
+expect I'll have to stay with it. But, honest, you can look for a season
+of perfectly punk Vice Commodorin'."
+
+As it turns out, though, there ain't one in ten members that knows much
+more about yachtin' than I do. Navigatin' porch rockers, orderin' all
+hands up for fancy drinks, and conductin' bridge whist regattas was their
+chief sea-goin' accomplishments; and when it come to makin' myself
+useful, who was it, I'd like to know, that chucked the boozy steward off
+the float when he had two of the house committee treed up the signal
+mast?
+
+I suspect that's how it is I'm played up so prominent for this house
+warmin' episode. Anyway, when I arrives there on the great night--me all
+got up fancy in a double breasted serge coat, white flannel pants, and
+cork soled canvas shoes--I finds they've put me on the reception
+committee; and that, besides welcomin' invited guests, I'm expected to
+keep one eye peeled for outsiders, to see that nobody starts nothin'.
+
+So I'm on deck, as you might say, and more or less conspicuous, when this
+Larchmont delegation is landed and comes stringin' up. It was "Ahoy
+there, Captain This!" and "How are you, Captain That?" from the rest of
+the committee, who was some acquainted; and me buttin' around earnest
+tryin' to find someone to shake hands with, when I runs across this thick
+set party in the open front Tuxedo regalia, with his opera hat down over
+one eye and a long cigar raked up coquettish from the sou'west corner of
+his face.
+
+Know him? I guess! It's Peter K. Tracey; yes, the one that has his name
+on so many four-sheet posters. Noticed how he always has 'em read, ain't
+you? "Mr. Peter K. Tracey presents Booth Keene, the sterling young
+actor." Never forgets that "Mr."; but, say, I knew him when he signed it
+just "P. Tracey," and chewed his tongue some at gettin' that down.
+
+Them was the days when he'd have jumped at the chance of managin' my ring
+exhibits, and he was known in sportin' circles as Chunk Tracey. I ain't
+followed all his moves since then; but I know he got to handlin' the big
+heavyweights on exhibition tours, broke into the theatrical game with an
+animal show that was a winner, and has stuck to the boxoffice end ever
+since.
+
+Why shouldn't he, with a half ownership in a mascot Rube drama that never
+has less than six road companies playin' it, and at least one hit on
+Broadway every season? I admit I was some surprised, though, to hear of
+him buyin' a house on Fifth-ave. and makin' a stab at mixin' in society.
+That last I could hardly believe; but here he was, and lookin' as much
+jarred at findin' me as I was to see him.
+
+"Well, I'll be hanged!" says I. "Chunk Tracey!"
+
+"Why, hello, Shorty!" says he, and neither one of us remembers the
+"Charmed to see yuh, old chappy" lines we should have been shootin' off.
+Seems he'd been towed along with a bunch of near-swells that didn't dare
+treat him as if he really belonged, and he was almost frothin' at the
+mouth.
+
+"Talk about your society folks!" says he. "Why,--blankety blank 'em!--I
+can go down the Rialto any afternoon, pick up a dozen people at
+twenty-five a week, drill 'em four days, and give a better imitation than
+this crowd ever thought of putting up!"
+
+"Yes; but look who you are, Chunk," says I.
+
+"I know," says he.
+
+And he meant it too. He always was about the cockiest little rooster in
+the business; but I'd rather expected eight or ten years of ups and downs
+in the theatrical game, bein' thrown out of the trust and crawlin' back
+on his knees would have tempered him down some.
+
+You couldn't notice it, though. In fact, this chesty, cocksure attitude
+seemed to have grown on him, and it was plain that most of his soreness
+just now come from findin' himself in with a lot of folks that didn't
+take any special pains to admit what a great man he was. So, as him and
+me was sort of left to flock by ourselves, I undertook the job of
+supplyin' a few soothin' remarks, just for old time's sake. And that's
+how it was he got rung in on this little mix-up with Cap'n Spiller.
+
+You see, the way the committee had mapped it out, part of the doin's was
+a grand illumination of the fleet. Anyway, they had all the craft they
+could muster anchored in a semicircle off the end of the float and
+trimmed up with Japanese lanterns. Well, just about time for lightin' up,
+into the middle of the fleet comes driftin' a punk lookin' old sloop with
+dirty, patched sails, some shirts and things hangin' from the riggin',
+and a length of stovepipe stickin' through the cabin roof. When the
+skipper has struck the exact center, he throws over his mud hook and lets
+his sail run.
+
+Not bein' posted on the details, I didn't know but that was part of the
+show, until the chairman of my committee comes rushin' up to me all
+excited, and points it out.
+
+"Oh, I say, McCabe!" says he. "Do you see that?"
+
+"If I didn't," says I, "I could almost smell it from here. Some new
+member, is it?"
+
+"Member!" he gasps. "Why, it's some dashed old fisherman! We--we cawn't
+have him stay there, you know."
+
+"Well," says I, "he seems to be gettin' plenty of advice on that point."
+And he was; for they was shoutin' things at him through a dozen
+megaphones.
+
+"But you know, McCabe," goes on the chairman, "you ought to go out and
+send him away. That's one of your duties."
+
+"Eh?" says I. "How long since I've been official marine bouncer for this
+organization? G'wan! Go tell him yourself!"
+
+We had quite an argument over it too, with Peter K. chimin' in on my
+side; but, while the chappy insists that it's my job to fire the old
+hooker off the anchorage, I draws the line at interferin' with anything
+beyond the shore. Course, it might spoil the effect; but the way it
+struck me was that we didn't own any more of Long Island Sound than
+anyone else, and I says so flat.
+
+That must have been how the boss of the old sloop felt about it too; for
+he don't pay any attention to the howls or threats. He just makes things
+snug and then goes below and starts pokin' about in his dinky little
+cabin. Judgin' by the motions, he was gettin' a late supper.
+
+Anyway, they couldn't budge him, even though half the club was stewin'
+about it. And, someway, that seemed to tickle Chunk and me a lot. We
+watched him spread his grub out on the cabin table, roll up his sleeves,
+and square away like he had a good appetite, just as if he'd been all by
+himself, instead of right here in the midst of so many flossy yachtsmen.
+
+He even had music to eat by; for part of the programme was the turnin'
+loose of one of these high priced cabinet disk machines, that was on the
+Commodore's big schooner, and feedin' it with Caruso and Melba records.
+There was so much chatterin' goin' on around us on the verandas, and so
+many corks poppin' and glasses clinkin', that the skipper must have got
+more benefit from the concert than anyone else. At last he wipes his
+mouth on his sleeve careful, fills his pipe, and crawls out on deck to
+enjoy the view.
+
+It was well worth lookin' at too; for, although there was most too many
+clouds for the moon to do much execution, here was all the yachts lighted
+up, and the clubhouse blazin' and gay, and the water lappin' gentle in
+between. He gazes out at it placid for a minute or so, and then we see
+him dive down into the cabin. He comes back with something or other that
+we couldn't make out, and the next thing I knows I finds myself keepin'
+time with my foot to one of them lively, swingin' old tunes which might
+have been "The Campbells Are Coming" or might not; but anyway it was
+enough to give you that tingly sensation in your toes. And it was
+proceedin' from the after deck of that old hulk.
+
+"Well, well!" says I. "Bagpipes!"
+
+"Bagpipes be blowed!" says Chunk. "That's an accordion he's playing.
+Listen!"
+
+Say, I was listenin', and with both ears. Also other folks was beginnin'
+to do the same. Inside of five minutes, too, all the chatter has died
+down, and as I glanced around at the tables I could see that whole crowd
+of fancy dressed folks noddin' and beatin' time with their fans and
+cigars and fizz glasses. Even the waiters was standin' still, or tiptoin'
+so's to take it in.
+
+Ever hear one of them out-of-date music bellows handled by a natural born
+artist? Say, I've always been partial to accordions myself, though I
+never had the courage to own up to it in public; but this was the first
+time I'd ever heard one pumped in that classy fashion.
+
+Music! Why, as he switches off onto "The Old Folks at Home," you'd
+thought there was a church organ and a full orchestra out there! Maybe
+comin' across the water had something to do with it; but hanged if it
+wa'n't great! And of all the fine old tunes he gave us--"Nellie Gray,"
+"Comin' Through the Rye," "Annie Laurie," and half a dozen more.
+
+"Chunk," says I, as the concert ends and the folks begin to applaud,
+"there's only one thing to be done in a case like this. Lemme take that
+lid of yours."
+
+"Certainly," says he, and drops a fiver into it before he passes it over.
+That wa'n't the only green money I collects, either, and by the time I've
+made the entire round I must have gathered up more'n a quart of spendin'
+currency.
+
+"Hold on there, Shorty," says Chunk, as I starts out to deliver the
+collection. "I'd like to go with you."
+
+"Come along, then," says I. "I guess some of these sailormen will row us
+out."
+
+What we had framed up was one of these husky, rugged, old hearts of oak,
+who would choke up some on receivin' the tribute and give us his blessin'
+in a sort of "Shore Acres" curtain speech. Part of that description he
+lives up to. He's some old, all right; but he ain't handsome or rugged.
+He's a lean, dyspeptic lookin' old party, with a wrinkled face colored up
+like a pair of yellow shoes at the end of a hard season. His hair is long
+and matted, and he ain't overly clean in any detail. He don't receive us
+real hearty, either.
+
+"Hey, keep your hands off that rail!" he sings out, reachin' for a
+boathook as we come alongside.
+
+"It's all right, Cap," says I. "We're friends."
+
+"Git out!" says he. "I ain't got any friends."
+
+"Sure you have, old scout," says I. "Anyway, there's a lot of people
+ashore that was mighty pleased with the way you tickled that accordion.
+Here's proof of it too," and I holds up the hat.
+
+"Huh!" says he, gettin' his eye on the contents. "Come aboard, then.
+Here, I guess you can stow that stuff in there," and blamed if he don't
+shove out an empty lard pail for me to dump the money in. That's as
+excited as he gets about it too.
+
+Say, I'd have indulged in about two more minutes of dialogue with that
+ugly faced old pirate, and then I'd beat it for shore good and disgusted,
+if it hadn't been for Chunk Tracey. But he jumps in, as enthusiastic as
+if he was interviewin' some foreign Prince, presses a twenty-five-cent
+perfecto on the Cap'n, and begins pumpin' out of him the story of his
+life.
+
+And when Chunk really enthuses it's got to be a mighty cold proposition
+that don't thaw some. Ten to one, too, if this had been a nice, easy
+talkin', gentle old party, willin' to tell all he knew in the first five
+minutes, Chunk wouldn't have bothered with him; but, because he don't
+show any gratitude, mushy or otherwise, and acts like he had a permanent,
+ingrowin' grouch, Chunk is right there with the persistence. He drags out
+of him that he's Cap'n Todd Spiller, hailin' originally from Castine,
+Maine, and that the name of his old tub is the Queen of the Seas. He says
+his chief business is clammin'; but he does a little fishin' and
+freightin' on the side. He don't work much, though, because it don't take
+a lot to keep him.
+
+"But you have a wife somewhere ashore, I suppose," suggests Chunk, "a
+dear old soul who waits anxiously for you to come back?"
+
+"Bah!" grunts Cap'n Spiller, knockin' the heel out of his corncob
+vicious. "I ain't got any use for women."
+
+"I see," says Chunk, gazin' up sentimental at the moon. "A blighted
+romance of youth; some fair, fickle maid who fled with another and left
+you alone?"
+
+"No such luck," says Spiller. "My trouble was havin' too many to once.
+Drat 'em!"
+
+And you'd most thought Chunk would have let it go at that; but not him!
+He only tackles Spiller along another line. "What I want to know,
+Captain," says he, "is where you learned to play the accordion so well."
+
+"Never learned 'tall," growls Spiller. "Just picked it up from a Portugee
+that tried to knife me afterwards."
+
+"You don't say!" says Chunk. "But there's the musician's soul in you. You
+love it, don't you? You use it to express your deep, unsatisfied
+longings?"
+
+"Guess so," says the Captain. "I allus plays most when my dyspepshy is
+worst. It's kind of a relief."
+
+"Um-m-m--ah!" says Chunk. "Many geniuses are that way. You must come into
+town, though, and let me take you to hear some real, bang up, classical
+music."
+
+"Not me!" grunts Spiller. "I can make all the music I want myself."
+
+"How about plays, then?" says Chunk. "Now, wouldn't you like to see the
+best show on Broadway?"
+
+"No, sir," says he, prompt and vigorous. "I ain't never seen any shows,
+and don't want to seen one, either."
+
+And, say, along about that time, what with the stale cookin' and bilge
+water scents that was comin' from the stuffy cabin, and this charmin'
+mood that old Spiller was in, I was gettin' restless. "Say, Chunk," I
+breaks in, "you may be enjoyin' this, all right; but I've got enough.
+It's me for shore! Goin' along?"
+
+"Not yet," says he. "Have the boat come back for me in about an hour."
+
+It was nearer two, though, before he shows up again, and his face is
+fairly beamin'.
+
+"Well," says I, "did you adopt the old pirate, or did he adopt you?"
+
+"Wait and see," says he, noddin' his head cocky. "Anyway, he's promised
+to show up at my office to-morrow afternoon."
+
+"You must be stuck on entertaining a grouchy old lemon like that," says
+I.
+
+"But he's a genius," says Chunk. "Just what I've been looking for as a
+head liner in a new vaudeville house I'm opening next month."
+
+"What!" says I. "You ain't thinkin' of puttin' that old sour face on the
+stage, are you? Say, you're batty!"
+
+"Batty, am I?" says Chunk, kind of swellin' up. "All right, I'll show
+you. I've made half a million, my boy, by just such batty moves as that.
+It's because I know people, know 'em through and through, from what
+they'll pay to hear, to the ones who can give 'em what they want. I'm a
+discoverer of talent, Shorty. Where do I get my stars from? Pick 'em up
+anywhere. I don't go to London and Paris and pay fancy salaries. I find
+my attractions first hand, sign' em up on long contracts, and take the
+velvet that comes in myself. That's my way, and I guess I've made good."
+
+"Maybe you have," says I; "but I'm guessin' this is where you stub your
+toe. Hot line that'll be for the head of a bill, won't it--an accordion
+player? Think you can get that across?"
+
+"Think!" says Chunk, gettin' indignant as usual, because someone suggests
+he can fall down on anything. "Why, I'm going to put that over twice a
+day, to twelve hundred-dollar houses! No, I don't think; I know!"
+
+And just for that it wouldn't have taken much urgin' for me to have put
+up a few yellow ones that he was makin' a wrong forecast.
+
+But, say, you didn't happen to be up to the openin' of Peter K.'s new
+Alcazar the other night, did you? Well, Sadie and I was, on account of
+being included in one of Chunk's complimentary box parties. And, honest,
+when they sprung that clouded moonlight water view, with the Long Island
+lights in the distance, and the Sound steamers passin' back and forth at
+the back, and the rocks in front, hanged if I didn't feel like I was on
+the veranda of our yacht club, watchin' it all over again, the same as it
+was that night!
+
+Then in from one side comes this boat; no ordinary property piece faked
+up from something in stock; but a life sized model that's a dead ringer
+for the old Queen of the Seas, even to the stovepipe and the shirts hung
+from the forestay. It comes floatin' in lazy and natural, and when Cap
+Spiller goes forward to heave over the anchor he drops it with a splash
+into real water. He's wearin' the same old costume,--shirt sleeves, cob
+pipe, and all,--and when he begins to putter around in the cabin, blamed
+if you couldn't smell the onions fryin' and the coffee boilin'. Yes, sir,
+Chunk had put it all on!
+
+Did the act get 'em interested? Say, there was fifteen straight minutes
+of this scenic business, with not a word said; but the house was so still
+I could hear my watch tickin'. But when he drags out that old accordion,
+plants himself on the cabin roof with one leg swingin' careless over the
+side, and opens up with them old tunes of his--well, he had 'em all with
+him, from the messenger boys in the twenty-five-cent gallery to the
+brokers in the fifteen-dollar boxes. He takes five curtain calls, and the
+orchestra circle was still demandin' more when they rung down the front
+drop.
+
+"Chunk," says I, as he shows up at our box, "I take it back. You sure
+have picked another winner."
+
+"Looks like it, don't it?" says he. "And whisper! A fifty-minute act for
+a hundred a week! That's the best of it. Up at the Columbus their top
+liner is costing them a thousand a day."
+
+"It's a cinch if you can hold onto him, eh?" says I.
+
+"Oh, I can hold him all right," says Chunk, waggin' his head confident.
+"I know enough about human nature to be sure of that. Of course, he's an
+odd freak; but this sort of thing will grow on him. The oftener he gets a
+hand like that, the more he'll want it, and inside of a fortnight that'll
+be what he lives for. Oh, I know people, from the ground up, inside and
+outside!"
+
+Well, I was beginnin' to think he did. And, havin' been on the inside of
+his deal, I got to takin' a sort of pride in this hit, almost as much as
+if I'd discovered the Captain myself. I used to go up about every
+afternoon to see old Spiller do his stunt and get 'em goin'. Gen'rally
+I'd lug along two or three friends, so I could tell 'em how it happened.
+
+Last Friday I was a little late for the act, and was just rushin' by the
+boxoffice, when I hears language floatin' out that I recognizes as a
+brand that only Chunk Tracey could deliver when he was good and warm
+under the collar. Peekin' in through the window, I sees him standin'
+there, fairly tearin' his hair.
+
+"What's up, Chunk?" says I. "You seem peeved."
+
+"Peeved!" he yells. "Why, blankety blank the scousy universe, I'm stark,
+raving mad! What do you think? Spiller has quit!"
+
+"Somebody overbid that hundred a week?" says I.
+
+"I wish they had; then I could get out an injunction and hold him on his
+contract," says Peter K. "But he's skipped, skipped for good. Read
+that."
+
+It's only a scrawly note he'd left pinned up in his dressin' room, and,
+while it ain't much as a specimen of flowery writin', it states his case
+more or less clear. Here's what it said:
+
+Mister P. K. Tracey;
+
+Sir:--I'm through being a fool actor. The money's all right if I needed
+it, which I doant, but I doant like makin' a fool of myself twict a day
+to please a lot of citty foalks I doant give a dam about annie way, I
+doant like livin' in a blamed hotel either, for there aint annie wheres
+to set and smoak and see the sun come up. I'd ruther be on my old bote,
+and that's whare I'm goin'. You needn't try to find me and git me to come
+back for I wont. You couldn't git me to act on that staige agin, ever.
+It's foolish.
+
+Yours, TODD SPILLER.
+
+"Now what in the name of all that's woolly," says Chunk, "would you say
+to a thing like that?"
+
+"Me?" says I. "I don't know. Maybe I'd start in by admittin' that to card
+index the minds of the whole human race was a good deal of a job for one
+party to tackle, even with a mighty intellect like yours. Also, if it was
+put up to me flat, I might agree with Spiller."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+HANDING BOBBY A BLANK
+
+
+Say, what do you make out of this plute huntin' business, anyway? Has the
+big money bunch got us down on the mat with our wind shut off and our
+pockets inside out; or is it just campaign piffle? Are we ghost dancin',
+or waltz dreamin', or what? It sure has me twisted up for fair, and I
+don't know whether I stand with the criminal rich or the predatory poor.
+
+That's all on account of a little mix-up I was rung into at the hotel
+Perzazzer the other day. No, we ain't livin' there reg'lar again. This
+was just a little fall vacation we was takin' in town, so Sadie can catch
+up with her shoppin', and of course the Perzazzer seems more or less like
+home to us.
+
+But it ain't often I've ever run against anything like this there. I've
+been thinkin' it over since, and it's left me with my feet in the air.
+No, you didn't read anything about it in the papers. But say, there's
+more goes on in one of them big joints every week than would fill a whole
+issue.
+
+Look at the population the Perzazzer's got,--over two thousand, countin'
+the help! Why, drop us down somewhere out in Iowa, and spread us around
+in separate houses, and there'd be enough to call for a third-class
+postmaster, a police force, and a board of trade. Bunched the way we are,
+all up and down seventeen stories, with every cubic foot accounted for,
+we don't cut much of a figure except on the checkbooks. You hear about
+the Perzazzer only when some swell gives a fancy blow-out, or a guest
+gets frisky in the public dining room.
+
+And anything in the shape of noise soon has the muffler put on it. We've
+got a whole squad of husky, two-handed, soft spoken gents who don't have
+anything else to do, and our champeen ruction extinguisher is Danny
+Reardon. To see him strollin' through the cafe, you might think he was a
+corporation lawyer studyin' how to spend his next fee; but let some
+ambitious wine opener put on the loud pedal, or have Danny get his eye on
+some Bridgeport dressmaker drawin' designs of the latest Paris fashions
+in the tea room, and you'll see him wake up. Nothing seems to get by
+him.
+
+So I was some surprised to find him havin' an argument with a couple of
+parties away up on our floor. Anyone could see with one eye that they was
+a pair of butt-ins. The tall, smooth faced gent in the black frock coat
+and the white tie had sky pilot wrote all over him; and the Perzazzer
+ain't just the place an out of town minister would pick out to stop at,
+unless he wanted to blow a year's salary into a week's board.
+
+Anyway, his runnin' mate was a dead give away. He looked like he might
+have just left a bench in the Oriental lodgin' house down at Chatham
+Square. He's a thin, gawky, pale haired youth, with tired eyes and a limp
+lower jaw that leaves his mouth half open all the time; and his costume
+looks like it had been made up from back door contributions,--a faded
+coat three sizes too small, a forty fat vest, and a pair of shiny black
+whipcord pants that someone had been married in about twenty years back.
+
+What gets me is why such a specimen should be trailin' around with a
+clean, decent lookin' chap like this minister. Maybe that's why I come to
+take any notice of their little debate. There's some men, though, that
+you always give a second look at, and this minister gent was one of that
+kind. It wa'n't until I see how he tops Danny by a head that I notices
+how well built he is; and I figures that if he was only in condition, and
+knew how to handle himself, he could put up a good lively scrap.
+Something about his jaw hints that to me; but of course, him bein' a
+Bible pounder, I don't expect anything of the kind.
+
+"Yes, I understand all that," Danny was tellin' him; "but you'd better
+come down to the office, just the same."
+
+"My dear man," says the minister, "I have been to the office, as I told
+you before, and I could get no satisfaction there. The person I wish to
+see is on the ninth floor. They say he is out. I doubt it, and, as I have
+come six hundred miles just to have a word with him, I insist on a chance
+to----"
+
+"Sure!" says Danny. "You'll get your chance, only it's against the rules
+to allow strangers above the ground floor. Now, you come along with me
+and you'll be all right." With that Danny gets a grip on the gent's arm
+and starts to walk him to the elevator. But he don't go far. The next
+thing Danny knows he's been sent spinnin' against the other wall. Course,
+he wa'n't lookin' for any such move; but it was done slick and prompt.
+
+"Sorry," says the minister, shovin' his cuffs back in place; "but I must
+ask you to keep your hands off."
+
+I see what Danny was up to then. He looks as cool as a soda fountain; but
+he's red behind his ears, and he's fishin' the chain nippers out of his
+side pocket. I knows that in about a minute the gent in the frock coat
+will have both hands out of business. Even at that, it looks like an even
+bet, with somebody gettin' hurt more or less. And blamed if I didn't hate
+to see that spunky minister get mussed up, just for objectin' to takin'
+the quiet run out. So I pushes to the front.
+
+"Well, well!" says I, shovin' out a hand to the parson, as though he was
+someone I'd been lookin' for. "So you showed up, eh?"
+
+"Why," says he,--"why--er----"
+
+"Yes, I know," says I, headin' him off. "You can tell me about that
+later. Bring your friend right in; this is my door. It's all right,
+Danny; mistakes will happen."
+
+And before any of 'em knows what's up, Danny is left outside with his
+mouth open, while I've towed the pair of strays into our sittin' room,
+and shooed Sadie out of the way. The minister looks kind of dazed; but he
+keeps his head well.
+
+"Really," says he, gazin' around, "I am sure there must be some
+misunderstanding."
+
+"You bet," says I, "and it was gettin' worse every minute. About two
+shakes more, and you'd been the center of a local disturbance that would
+have landed you before the police sergeant."
+
+"Do you mean," says he, "that I cannot communicate with a guest in this
+hotel without being liable to arrest?"
+
+"That's the size of it," says I. "Danny had the bracelets all out. The
+conundrum is, though, Why I should do the goat act, instead of lettin'
+you two mix it up? But that's what happened, and now I guess it's up to
+you to give an account."
+
+"H'm!" says he. "It isn't quite clear; but I infer that you have, in a
+way, made yourself responsible for me. May I ask whom I have to thank
+for----"
+
+"I'm Shorty McCabe," says I.
+
+"Oh!" says he. "It seems to me I've heard----"
+
+"Nothing like bein' well advertised," says I. "Now, how about you--and
+this?" With that I points to the specimen in the cast offs, that was
+givin' an imitation of a flytrap. It was a little crisp, I admit; but I'm
+gettin' anxious to know where I stand.
+
+The minister lifts his eyebrows some, but proceeds to hand out the
+information. "My name is Hooker," says he,--"Samuel Hooker."
+
+"Preacher?" says I.
+
+"Ye-es, a poor one," says he. "Where? Well, in the neighborhood of Mossy
+Dell, Pennsylvania."
+
+"Out in the celluloid collar belt, eh?" says I. "This ain't a deacon, is
+it?" and I jerks my thumb at the fish eyed one.
+
+"This unfortunate fellow," says he, droppin' a hand on the object's
+shoulder, "is one of our industrial products. His name is Kronacher,
+commonly called Dummy."
+
+"I can guess why," says I. "But now let's get down to how you two happen
+to be loose on the seventh floor of the Perzazzer and so far from Mossy
+Dell."
+
+The Reverend Sam says there ain't any great mystery about that. He come
+on here special to have a talk with a party by the name of Rankin, that
+he understood was stoppin' here.
+
+"You don't mean Bobby Brut, do you?" says I.
+
+"Robert K. Rankin is the young man's name, I believe," says he,--"son of
+the late Loring Rankin, president of the Consolidated----"
+
+"That's Bobby Brut," says I. "Don't catch onto the Brut, eh? You would if
+you read the champagne labels. Friend of yours, is he?"
+
+But right there the Rev. Mr. Hooker turns balky. He hints that his
+business with Bobby is private and personal, and he ain't anxious to lay
+it before a third party. He'd told 'em the same at the desk, when someone
+from Bobbie's rooms had 'phoned for details about the card, and then he'd
+got the turn down. But he wa'n't the kind that stayed down. He's goin' to
+see Mr. Rankin or bu'st. Not wantin' to ask for the elevator, he blazes
+ahead up the stairs; and Danny, it seems, hadn't got on his track until
+he was well started.
+
+"All I ask," says he, "is five minutes of Mr. Rankin's time. That is not
+an unreasonable request, I hope?"
+
+"Excuse me," says I; "but you're missin' the point by a mile. It ain't
+how long you want to stay, but what you're here for. You got to remember
+that things is run different on Fifth-ave. from what they are on
+Penrose-st., Mossy Dell. You might be a book agent, or a bomb thrower,
+for all the folks at the desk know. So the only way to get next to anyone
+here is to show your hand and take the decision. Now if you want to try
+runnin' the outside guard again, I'll call Danny back. But you'll make a
+mess of it."
+
+He thinks that over for a minute, lookin' me square in the eye all the
+time, and all of a sudden he puts out his hand. "You're right," says he.
+"I was hot headed, and let my zeal get the better of my commonsense.
+Thank you, Mr. McCabe."
+
+"That's all right," says I. "You go down to the office and put your case
+to 'em straight."
+
+"No," says he, shruggin' his shoulders, "that wouldn't do at all. I
+suppose I've come on a fool's errand. Kronacher, we'll go back."
+
+"That's too bad," says I, "if you had business with Bobby that was on the
+level."
+
+"Since you've been so kind," says he, "perhaps you would give me your
+opinion--if I am not detaining you?"
+
+"Spiel away!" says I. "I'll own up you've got me some interested."
+
+Well, say, when he'd described his visit as a dippy excursion, he wa'n't
+far off. Seems that this Rev. Sam Hooker ain't a reg'lar preacher, with a
+stained glass window church, a steam heated parsonage, and a settled job.
+He's sort of a Gospel promoter, that goes around plantin' churches here
+and there,--home missionary, he calls it, though I always thought a home
+missionary was one that was home from China on a half-pay visit.
+
+Mainly he says he drifts around through the coke oven and glass works
+district, where all the Polackers and other dagoes work. He don't let it
+go with preachin' to 'em, though. He pokes around among their shacks,
+seein' how they live, sendin' doctors for sick babies, givin' the women
+folks hints on the use of fresh air and hard soap, an' advisin' 'em to
+keep their kids in school. He's one of them strenuous chaps, too, that
+believes in stirrin' up a fuss whenever he runs across anything he thinks
+is wrong. One of the fights he's been making is something about the boys
+in the glass works.
+
+"Perhaps you have heard of our efforts to have a child labor bill passed
+in our State?" says he.
+
+"No," says I; "but I'm against it. There's enough kids has to answer the
+mill whistle, without passin' laws to make 'em."
+
+Then he explains how the bill is to keep 'em from goin' at it too young,
+or workin' too many hours on a stretch. Course, I'm with him on that, and
+says so.
+
+"Ah!" says he. "Then you may be interested to learn that young Mr. Rankin
+is the most extensive employer of child labor in our State. That is what
+I want to talk to him about."
+
+"Ever see Bobby?" says I.
+
+He says he hasn't.
+
+"Know anything of his habits, and so on?" I asks.
+
+"Not a thing," says the Rev. Sam.
+
+"Then you take it from me," says I, "that you ain't missed much."
+
+See? I couldn't go all over that record of Bobby Brut's, specially to a
+preacher. Not that Bobby was the worst that ever cruised around the Milky
+Way in a sea goin' cab with his feet over the dasher; but he was
+something of a torrid proposition while he lasted. You remember some of
+his stunts, maybe? I hadn't kept strict tabs on him; but I'd heard that
+after they chucked him out of the sanatorium his mother planted him here,
+with a man nurse and a private doctor, and slid off to Europe to stay
+with her son-in-law Count until folks forgot about Bobby.
+
+And this was the youth the Rev. Mr. Hooker had come to have a heart to
+heart talk with!
+
+"Ain't you takin' a lot of trouble, just for a few Polackers?" says I.
+
+"They are my brothers," says he, quiet like.
+
+"What!" says I. "You don't look it."
+
+His mouth corners flickers a little at that, and there comes a glimmer in
+them solemn gray eyes of his; but he goes on to say that it's part of his
+belief that every man is his brother.
+
+"Gee!" says I. "You've adopted a big fam'ly."
+
+But say, he's so dead in earnest about it, and he talks so sensible about
+other things, besides appearin' so white clear through, that I can't help
+likin' the cuss.
+
+"Look here!" says I. "This is way out of my line, and it strikes me as a
+batty proposition anyway; but if you're still anxious to have a chin with
+Bobby, maybe I can fix it."
+
+"Thank you, thank you!" says he, givin' me the grateful grip.
+
+It's a good deal easier than I'd thought. All I does is get one of
+Bobby's retinue on the house 'phone, tell who I am, and say I was
+thinkin' of droppin' up with a couple of friends for a short call, if
+Bobby's agreeable. Seems he was, for inside of two minutes we're on our
+way up in the elevator.
+
+Got any idea of the simple way a half baked young plute can live in a
+place like the Perzazzer? He has one floor of a whole wing cut off for
+his special use,--about twenty rooms, I should judge,--and there was
+hired hands standin' around in every corner. We're piloted in over the
+Persian rugs, with the preacher blinkin' his eyes to keep from seein'
+some of the statuary and oil paintin's.
+
+At last we comes to a big room with an eastern exposure, furnished like a
+show window. Sittin' at a big mahogany table in the middle is a narrow
+browed, pop eyed, bat eared young chap in a padded silk dressin' gown,
+and I remembers him for the Bobby Brut I used to see floatin' around with
+the Trixy-Madges at the lobster palaces. He has a couple of decks of
+cards laid out in front of him, and I guesses he's havin' a go at
+Canfield solitaire. Behind his chair stands a sour faced lackey who holds
+up his hand for us to wait.
+
+Bobby don't look up at all. He's shiftin' the cards around, tryin' to
+make 'em come out right, doin' it quick and nervous. All of a sudden the
+lackey claps his hand down on a pile and says, "Beg pardon, sir, but you
+can't do that."
+
+"Blast you!" snarls Bobby. "And I was just getting it! Why didn't you
+look the other way? Bah!" and he sends the whole lot flyin' on the floor.
+Do you catch on? He has the lackey there to see that he don't cheat
+himself.
+
+But while the help was pickin' up the cards Bobby gets a glimpse of our
+trio, ranged up against the door draperies.
+
+"Hello, Shorty McCabe!" he sings out. "It's bully of you to drop in.
+Nobody comes to see me any more--hardly a soul. Say, do you think there's
+anything the matter with my head?"
+
+"Can't say your nut shows any cracks from here," says I. "Who's been
+tellin' you it did?"
+
+"Why, all those blasted doctors," says he. "They won't even let me go out
+alone. But say," here he beckons me up and whispers mysterious, "I'll fix
+'em yet! You just wait till I get my animals trained. You wait!" Then he
+claps his hands and hollers, "Atkins! Set 'em going!"
+
+Atkins, he stops scrabblin' after the cards and starts around the room.
+And say, would you believe it, on all the tables and mantelpieces was a
+lot of those toy animals, such as they sell durin' the holidays. There
+was lions and tigers and elephants, little and big, and every last one of
+'em has its head balanced so it'll move up and down when you touch it.
+Atkins' job was to go from one to the other and set 'em bobbin'. Them on
+the mantels wa'n't more'n a few inches long; but on the floor, hid behind
+chairs, was some that was life size. One was a tiger, made out of a real
+skin, and when his head goes his jaws open and shut, and his tail lashes
+from side to side, as natural as life. Say, it was weird to watch that
+collection, all noddin' away together--almost gave you the willies!
+
+"Are they all going?" says Bobby.
+
+"Yes, sir," says Atkins, standin' attention.
+
+"What do you think, eh?" says Bobbie, half shuttin' his pop eyes and
+starin' at me, real foxy.
+
+"Great scheme!" says I. "Didn't know you had a private zoo up here. But
+say, I brought along someone that wants to have a little chin with you."
+
+With that I hauls the Rev. Sam to the front and gives him the nudge to
+fire away. And say, he's all primed! He begins by givin' Bobbie a word
+picture of the Rankin glass works at night, when the helpers are carryin'
+the trays from the hot room, where the blowers work three-hour shifts,
+with the mercury at one hundred and twenty, to the coolin' room, where
+it's like a cellar. He tells him how many helpers there are, how many
+hours they work a day, and what they get for it. It didn't make me yearn
+for a job.
+
+"And here," says the Rev. Mr. Hooker, pullin' the Dummy up by the sleeve,
+"is what happens. This boy went to work in your glass factory when he was
+thirteen. He was red cheeked, clear eyed, then, and he had a normal
+brain. He held his job six years. Then he was discharged. Why? Because he
+wasn't of any more use. He was all in, the juice sapped out of him, as
+dry as a last year's cornhusk. Look at him! Any doubt about his being
+used up? And what happened to him is happening to thousands of other
+boys. So I have come here to ask you, Mr. Rankin, if you are proud of
+turning out such products? Aren't you ready to stop hiring
+thirteen-year-old boys for your works?"
+
+Say, it was straight from the shoulder, that talk,--no flourishes, no
+fine words! And what do you guess Bobby Brut has to say? Not a blamed
+thing! I doubt if he heard more'n half of it, anyway; for he's got his
+eyes set on that pasty face of Dummy Kronacher, and is followin' his
+motions.
+
+The Dummy ain't payin' any attention to the speech, either. He's got
+sight of all them animals with their heads bobbin', and a silly grin
+spreads over his face. First he sidles over to the mantel and touches up
+one that was about stopped. Then he sees another, and starts that off
+again, and by the time Hooker is through the Dummy is as busy and
+contented as you please, keepin' them tigers and things movin'.
+
+"Well?" says the Rev. Sam.
+
+"Eh?" says Bobby, tearin' his eyes off the Dummy. "Were you saying
+something about the glass works? Beastly bore! I never go near them. But
+say! I want that chap over there. I want to hire him. What's his name?"
+
+"Dummy Kronacher," says the Rev. Sam, comin' out strong on the first
+word.
+
+"Good!" says Bobbie. "Hey, Dummy? What will you take to stay here with me
+and do that right along?"
+
+Dummy has just discovered a stuffed alligator that can snap its jaws and
+wiggle its tail. He only looks up and grins.
+
+"I'll make it a hundred a month," says Bobbie. "Well, that's settled.
+Atkins, you're fired! And say, McCabe, I must show this new man how I
+want this business done. You and your friend run in some other time, will
+you?"
+
+"But," says Hooker, "can't you do something about those helpers? Won't
+you promise to----"
+
+"No!" snaps Bobby. "I've no time to bother with such things. Atkins, show
+'em out!"
+
+Well, we went. We goes so sudden the Rev. Sam forgets about leavin' the
+Dummy until we're outside, and then he's for goin' back after him.
+
+"What for?" says I. "That pair'll get along fine; they're two of a
+kind."
+
+"I guess you're right," says he. "And it's something to have brought
+those two together. Perhaps someone will see the significance of it, some
+day."
+
+Now what was he drivin' at then? You can search me. All I've been able to
+make out of it is that what ails the poor is poverty, and the trouble
+with the plutes is that they've got too much. Eh? Barney Shaw said
+something like that too? Well, don't let on I agree with him. He might
+get chesty.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+MARMADUKE SLIPS ONE OVER
+
+
+And you'd almost think I could accumulate enough freaks, all by myself,
+without havin' my friends pass theirs along, wouldn't you? Yet lemme tell
+you what Pinckney rung up on me.
+
+He comes into the Studio one day towin' a party who wears brown spats and
+a brown ribbon to his shell rimmed eyeglasses, and leaves him planted in
+a chair over by the window, where he goes to rubbin' his chin with a
+silver-handled stick while we dive into the gym. for one of our little
+half-hour sessions. Leaves him there without sayin' a word, mind you,
+like you'd stand an umbrella in the corner!
+
+"Who's the silent gazooks you run on the siding out front?" says I.
+
+"Why," says Pinckney, "that's only Marmaduke."
+
+"Only!" says I. "I should say Marmaduke was quite some of a name.
+Anything behind it? He ain't a blank, is he?"
+
+"Who, Marmaduke?" says he. "Far from it! In fact, he has a most
+individual personality."
+
+"That sounds good," says I; "but does it mean anything? Who is he,
+anyway?"
+
+"Ask him, Shorty, ask him," says Pinckney, and as he turns to put his
+coat on the hanger I gets a glimpse of that merry eye-twinkle of his.
+
+"Go on--I'm easy," says I. "I'd look nice, wouldn't I, holdin' a perfect
+stranger up for his pedigree?"
+
+"But I assure you he'd be pleased to give it," says Pinckney, "and, more
+than that, I want to be there to hear it myself."
+
+"Well, you're apt to strain your ears some listenin'," says I. "This
+ain't my day for askin' fool questions."
+
+You never can tell, though. We hadn't much more'n got through our mitt
+exercise, and Pinckney was only half into his afternoon tea uniform, when
+there's a 'phone call for him. And the next thing I know he's hustled
+into his frock coat and rushed out.
+
+Must have been five minutes later when I fin'lly strolls into the front
+office, to find that mysterious Marmaduke is still holdin' down the chair
+and gazin' placid out onto 42d-st. It looks like he'd been forgotten and
+hadn't noticed the fact.
+
+One of these long, loose jointed, languid actin' gents, Marmaduke is; the
+kind that can drape themselves careless and comf'table over almost any
+kind of furniture. He's a little pop eyed, his hair is sort of a faded
+tan color, and he's whopper jawed on the left side; but beyond that he
+didn't have any striking points of facial beauty. It's what you might
+call an interestin' mug, though, and it's so full of repose that it seems
+almost a shame to disturb him.
+
+Someone had to notify him, though, that he'd overslept. I tried clearin'
+my throat and shufflin' my feet to bring him to; but that gets no action
+at all. So there was nothing for it but to go over and tap him on the
+shoulder.
+
+"Excuse me," says I, "but your friend has gone."
+
+"Ah, quite so," says he, still starin' out of the window and rubbin' his
+chin. "'Tis a way friends have. They come, and they go. Quite so."
+
+"Nobody's debatin' that point," says I; "but just now I wa'n't speakin'
+of friends in gen'ral. I was referrin' to Pinckney. He didn't leave any
+word; but I suspicion he was called up by----"
+
+"Thanks," breaks in Marmaduke. "I know. Mrs. Purdy-Pell consults him
+about dinner favors--tremendous trifles, to be coped with only by a
+trained intelligence. We meet at the club later."
+
+"Oh, that's it, is it?" says I. "In that case, make yourself to home.
+Have an evening paper?"
+
+"Please take it away," says he. "I might be tempted to read about the
+beastly stock market."
+
+"Been taking a little flyer, eh?" says I.
+
+"What, I?" says he. "Why, I haven't enough cash to buy a decent dinner.
+But everybody you meet follows the market, you know. It's a contagious
+disease."
+
+"So?" says I. "Now I've been exposed a lot and haven't caught it very
+hard."
+
+"Gifted of the gods!" says he.
+
+"Eh?" says I.
+
+"I'm Marmaduke, you know," says he.
+
+"I've heard that much," says I.
+
+"To him that hath ears--mufflers," says he.
+
+"Mufflers?" says I. "I guess I must be missin' some of my cues, Mister."
+
+"Never care," says he. "Why cry over spilt milk when one can keep a
+cat?"
+
+"Look here!" says I. "Are you stringin' me, or am I stringin' you?"
+
+"Of what use to fret the oracle?" says he. "They say silence is
+golden--well, I've spent mine."
+
+And, say, he had me doin' the spiral dip at that. I don't mind indulgin'
+in a little foolish conversation now and then; but I hate to have it so
+one sided. And, honest, so far as I figured, he might have been readin'
+the label off a tea chest. So with that I counters with one of my rough
+and ready comebacks.
+
+"Marmaduke--did you say it was?" says I. "If you did, where's the can?"
+
+"By Jove! That's rather good, though!" says he, rappin' the floor with
+his stick. "A little crude; but the element is there. Brava!
+Bravissimo!"
+
+"Stirred up the pigeons, anyway," says I.
+
+"Pigeons?" says he, lookin' puzzled.
+
+"Well, well!" says I. "And he wants a diagram for that mossy one! Loft,
+you know," and I taps my forehead.
+
+"Almost worthy of my steel!" says he, jumpin' up and shovin' out his
+hand. "Well met, Brother!"
+
+"I don't know which of us has a call to get chesty over it; but here's
+how," says I, takin' the friendly palm he holds out. "Seein' it's gone
+this far, though, maybe you'll tell me who in blazes you are!"
+
+And there I'd gone and done just what Pinckney had egged me to do.
+Course, the minute I asked the question I knew I'd given him a chance to
+slip one over on me; but I wa'n't lookin' for quite such a double jointed
+jolt.
+
+"Who am I?" says he. "Does it matter? Well, if it does, I am easily
+accounted for. Behold an anachronism!"
+
+"A which?" says I.
+
+"An anachronism," says he once more.
+
+"I pass," says I. "Is it part of Austria, or just a nickname for some
+alfalfa district out West?"
+
+"Brave ventures," says he; "but vain. One's place of birth doesn't count
+if one's twentieth century mind has a sixteenth century attitude. That's
+my trouble; or else I'm plain lazy, which I don't in the least admit. Do
+you follow me?"
+
+"I'm dizzy from it," says I.
+
+"The confession is aptly put," he goes on, "and the frankness of it does
+you credit. But I perceive. You would class me by peg and hole. Well, I'm
+no peg for any hole. I don't fit. On the floor of life's great workshop I
+just kick around. There you have me--ah--what?"
+
+"Maybe," says I; "but take my advice and don't ever spring that
+description on any desk Sergeant. It may be good; but it sounds like
+loose bearin's."
+
+"Ah!" says he. "The metaphor of to-morrow! Speak on, Sir Galahad!"
+
+"All right," says I. "I know it's runnin' a risk; but I'll chance one
+more: What part of the map do you hail from, Marmaduke?"
+
+"My proper home," says he, "is the Forest of Arden; but where that is I
+know not."
+
+"Why," says I, "then you belong in the new Harriman State Park. Anyway,
+there's a station by that name out on the Erie road."
+
+"Rails never ran to Arden Wood," says he, "nor ever will. Selah!"
+
+"Sounds like an old song," says I. "Are you taken this way often?"
+
+"I'm Marmaduke, you know," says he.
+
+"Sure, that's where we begun," says I; "but it's as far as we got. Is
+bein' Marmaduke your steady job?"
+
+"Some would call it so," says he. "I try to make of it an art."
+
+"You win," says I. "What can I set up?"
+
+"Thanks," says he. "Pinckney has thoughtlessly taken his cigarette case
+with him."
+
+So I sends Swifty out for a box of the most expensive dope sticks he can
+find. Maybe it wouldn't strike everybody that way; but to me it seemed
+like bein' entertained at cut rates. Next to havin' a happy dream about
+nothing I could remember afterwards, I guess this repartee bout with
+Marmaduke gets the ribbon. It was like blowin' soap bubbles to
+music,--sort of soothin' and cheerin' and no wear and tear on the brain.
+He stayed until closin' up time, and I was almost sorry to have him go.
+
+"Come around again," says I, "when the fog is thinner."
+
+"I'm certain to," says he. "I'm Marmaduke, you know."
+
+And the curious thing about that remark was that after you'd heard it
+four or five times it filled the bill. I didn't want to know any more,
+and it was only because Pinckney insisted on givin' me the details that
+the mystery was partly cleared up.
+
+"Well," says he, "what did you think of Marmaduke?"
+
+"Neither of us did any thinkin'," says I. "I just watched the
+butterflies."
+
+"You what?" says Pinckney.
+
+"Oh, call 'em bats, then!" says I. "He's got a dome full."
+
+"You mean you thought Marmaduke a bit off?" says he. "Nothing of the
+kind, Shorty. Why, he's a brilliant chap,--Oxford, Heidelberg, and all
+that sort of thing. He's written plays that no one will put on, books
+that no one will publish, and composed music that few can understand."
+
+"I can believe it," says I. "Also he can use language that he invents as
+he goes along. Entertainin' cuss, though."
+
+"A philosopher souffle," says Pinckney.
+
+"Does it pay him well?" says I.
+
+"It's no joke," says Pinckney. "The little his father left him is gone,
+and what's coming from his Uncle Norton he doesn't get until the uncle
+dies. Meanwhile he's flat broke and too proud to beg or borrow."
+
+"Never tried trailin' a pay envelope, did he?" says I.
+
+"But he doesn't know how," says Pinckney. "His talents don't seem to be
+marketable. I am trying to think of something he could do. And did you
+know, Shorty, he's taken quite a fancy to you?"
+
+"They all do," says I; "but Marmaduke's easier to stand than most of 'em.
+Next time I'm threatened with the willies I'll send for him and offer to
+hire him by the hour."
+
+As a matter of fact, I didn't have to; for he got into the habit of
+blowin' into the studio every day or two, and swappin' a few of his airy
+fancies for my mental short-arm jabs. He said it did him good, and
+somehow or other it always chirked me up too.
+
+And the more I saw of Marmaduke, the less I thought about the bats. Get
+under the surface, and he wa'n't nutty at all. He just had a free flow of
+funny thoughts and odd ways of expressin' 'em. Most of us are so shy of
+lettin' go of any sentiments that can't be had on a rubber stamp that it
+takes a mighty small twist to put a person in the queer class.
+
+However, business is business, and I'd just as soon Marmaduke hadn't been
+on hand the other day when Pyramid Gordon comes in with one of his
+heavyweight broker friends. Course, I didn't know anything about the
+stranger; but I know Pyramid, and his funnybone was fossilized years ago.
+Marmaduke don't offer to make any break, though. He takes his fav'rite
+seat over by the window and goes to gazin' out and rubbin' his chin.
+
+Seems that Mr. Gordon and his friend was both tangled up in some bank
+chain snarl that was worryin' 'em a lot. Things wouldn't be comin' to a
+head for forty-eight hours or so, and meantime all they could do was sit
+tight and wait.
+
+Now, Pyramid's programme in a case of that kind is one I made out for him
+myself. It's simple. He comes to the studio for an hour of the roughest
+kind of work we can put through. After that he goes to his Turkish bath,
+and by the time his rubber is through with him he's ready for a private
+room and a ten hours' snooze. That's what keeps the gray out of his
+cheeks, and helps him look a Grand Jury summons in the face without goin'
+shaky.
+
+So it's natural he recommends the same course to this Mr. Gridley that
+he's brought along. Another thick-neck, Gridley is, with the same flat
+ears as Pyramid, only he's a little shorter and not quite so rugged
+around the chin.
+
+"Here we are, now," says Pyramid, "and here's Professor McCabe, Gridley.
+If he can't make you forget your troubles, you will be the first on
+record. Come on in and see."
+
+But Gridley he shakes his head. "Nothing so strenuous for me," says he.
+"My heart wouldn't stand it. I'll wait for you, though."
+
+"Better come in and watch, then," says I, with a side glance at
+Marmaduke.
+
+"No, thanks; I shall be quite as uncomfortable here," says Gridley, and
+camps his two hundred and ten pounds down in my desk chair.
+
+It was a queer pair to leave together,--this Gridley gent, who was
+jugglin' millions, and gettin' all kinds of misery out of it, and
+Marmaduke, calm and happy, with barely one quarter to rub against
+another. But of course there wa'n't much chance of their findin' anything
+in common to talk about.
+
+Anyway, I was too busy for the next hour to give 'em a thought, and by
+the time I'd got Pyramid breathin' like a leaky air valve and glowin'
+like a circus poster all over, I'd clean forgot both of 'em. So, when I
+fin'lly strolls out absent minded, it's something of a shock to find 'em
+gettin' acquainted, Marmaduke tiltin' back careless in his chair, and
+Gridley eyin' him curious.
+
+It appears that Pyramid's friend has got restless, discovered Marmaduke,
+and proceeded to try to tell him how near he comes to bein' a nervous
+wreck.
+
+"Ever get so you couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't think of but one
+thing over and over?" he was just sayin'.
+
+"To every coat of arms, the raveled sleeve of care," observes Marmaduke
+sort of casual.
+
+"Hey?" says Gridley, facin' round on him sharp.
+
+"As the poet puts it," Marmaduke rattles on,--
+
+    "You cannot gild the lily,
+      Nor can you wet the sea;
+    Pray tell me of my Bonnie,
+      But bring her not to me!"
+
+"Say, what the howling hyenas are you spouting about?" snorts Gridley,
+growin' purple back of the ears. "Who in thunder are you?"
+
+"Don't!" says I, holdin' up a warnin' hand. But I'm too late. Marmaduke
+has bobbed up smilin'.
+
+"A chip on the current," says he. "I'm Marmaduke, you know. No offense
+meant. And you were saying----"
+
+"Huh!" grunts Gridley, calmin' down. "Can't wet the sea, eh? Not so bad,
+young man. You can't keep it still, either. It's the only thing that puts
+me to sleep when I get this way."
+
+"Break, break, break--I know," says Marmaduke.
+
+"That's it," says Gridley, "hearing the surf roar. I'd open up my
+seashore cottage just for the sake of a good night's rest, if it wasn't
+for the blasted seagulls. You've heard 'em in winter, haven't you, how
+they squeak around?"
+
+"It's their wing hinges," says Marmaduke, solemn and serious.
+
+"Eh?" says Gridley, gawpin' at him.
+
+"Squeaky wing hinges," says Marmaduke. "You should oil them."
+
+And, say, for a minute there, after Gridley had got the drift of that
+tomfool remark, I didn't know whether he was goin' to throw Marmaduke
+through the window, or have another fit. All of a sudden, though, he
+begins poundin' his knee.
+
+"By George! but that's rich, young man!" says he. "Squeaky gulls' wing
+hinges! Haw-haw! Oil 'em! Haw-haw! How did you ever happen to think of
+it, eh?"
+
+"One sweetly foolish thought," says Marmaduke. "I'm blessed with little
+else."
+
+"Well, it's a blessing, all right," says Gridley. "I have 'em sometimes;
+but not so good as that. Say, I'll have to tell that to Gordon when he
+comes out. No, he wouldn't see anything in it. But see here, Mr.
+Marmaduke, what have you got on for the evening, eh?"
+
+"My tablets are cleaner than my cuffs," says he.
+
+"Good work!" says Gridley. "What about coming out and having dinner with
+me?"
+
+"With you or any man," says Marmaduke. "To dine's the thing."
+
+With that, off they goes, leavin' Pyramid in the gym. doorway strugglin'
+with his collar. Course, I does my best to explain what's happened.
+
+"But who was the fellow?" says Mr. Gordon.
+
+"Just Marmaduke," says I, "and if you don't want to get your thinker tied
+in a double bowknot you'll let it go at that. He's harmless. First off I
+thought his gears didn't mesh; but accordin' to Pinckney he's some kind
+of a philosopher."
+
+"Gridley has a streak of that nonsense in him too," says Pyramid. "I only
+hope he gets it all out of his system by to-morrow night."
+
+Well, from all I could hear he did; for there wa'n't any scarehead
+financial story in the papers, and I guess the bank snarl must have been
+straightened out all right. What puzzled me for a few days, though, was
+to think what had become of Marmaduke. He hadn't been around to the
+studio once; and Pinckney hadn't heard a word from him, either. Pinckney
+had it all framed up how Marmaduke was off starvin' somewhere.
+
+It was only yesterday, too, that I looks up from the desk to see
+Marmaduke, all got up in an entire new outfit, standin' there smilin' and
+chipper.
+
+"Well, well!" says I. "So you didn't hit the breadline, after all!"
+
+"Perchance I deserved it," says he; "but there came one from the forest
+who willed otherwise."
+
+"Ah, cut the josh for a minute," says I, "and tell us what you landed!"
+
+"Gladly," says he. "I have been made the salaried secretary of the S. O.
+S. G. W. H."
+
+"Is it a new benefit order," says I, "or what?"
+
+"The mystic letters," says he, "stand for the Society for Oiling Squeaky
+Gulls' Wing Hinges. Mr. Gridley is one member; I am the other."
+
+And, say, you may not believe it, but hanged if it wa'n't a fact! He has
+a desk in Gridley's private office, and once a day he shows up there and
+scribbles off a foolish thought on the boss's calendar pad. That's all,
+except that he draws down good money for it.
+
+"Also I have had word," says Marmaduke, "that my aged Uncle Norton is
+very low of a fever."
+
+"Gee!" says I. "Some folks are born lucky, though!"
+
+"And others," says he, "in the Forest of Arden."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+A LOOK IN ON THE GOAT GAME
+
+
+Pinckney was tellin' me, here awhile back at lunch one day, what terrors
+them twins of his was gettin' to be. He relates a tragic tale about how
+they'd just been requested to resign from another private school where
+they'd been goin' as day scholars.
+
+"That is the third this season," says he; "the third, mind you!"
+
+"Well, there's more still, ain't there?" says I.
+
+"Brilliant observation, Shorty," says he, "also logical and pertinent.
+Yes, there are several others still untried by the twins."
+
+"What you howlin' about, then?" says I.
+
+"Because," says he, toyin' with the silver frame that holds the bill of
+fare, "because it is not my intention to demoralize all the educational
+institutions of this city in alphabetical order."
+
+"G'wan!" says I. "The kids have got to be educated somewhere, haven't
+they?"
+
+"Which is the sad part of it," says Pinckney, inspectin' the dish of
+scrambled eggs and asparagus tips and wavin' the waiter to do the serving
+himself. "It means," he goes on, "having a governess around the house,
+and you know what nuisances they can be."
+
+"Do I?" says I. "The nearest I ever got to havin' a governess was when
+Mrs. O'Grady from next door used to come in to use our wash-tubs and I
+was left with her for the day. Nobody ever called her a nuisance and got
+away with it."
+
+"What an idyllic youth to look back upon!" says he. "I can remember half
+a dozen, at least, who had a hand in directing the course of my budding
+intellect, and each one of them developed some peculiarity which
+complicated the domestic situation. I am wondering what this new
+governess of ours will contribute."
+
+"Got one on the job already, eh?" says I.
+
+"This is her third day," says he, "and if she manages to live through it
+with the twins, I shall have hope."
+
+"Ah, pickles!" says I. "Those kids are all right. They're full of life
+and ginger, that's all."
+
+"Especially ginger," says Pinckney.
+
+"What of it?" says I. "Or are you just blowin' about 'em? It's all right,
+they're a great pair, and any time you want to entertain me for half an
+hour, turn 'em loose in my comp'ny."
+
+"Done!" says Pinckney. "We'll take a cab right up."
+
+"Put it off three minutes, can't you?" says I, lookin' over the French
+pastry tray and spearin' a frosted creampuff that was decorated up with
+sugar flowers until it looked like a bride's bouquet.
+
+He insists on callin' my bluff, though; so up the avenue we goes, when I
+should have been hotfootin' it back to the studio. But I could see that
+Pinckney was some anxious about how the kids was gettin' on, Gertie being
+away for the day, and I thinks maybe I'll be useful in calmin' any riot
+he might find in progress.
+
+All was quiet and peaceful, though, as Pinckney opens the door with his
+latchkey. No howls from upstairs, no front windows broken, and nobody
+slidin' down the banisters. We was just waitin' for the automatic
+elevator to come down when we hears voices floatin' out from the lib'ry.
+Pinckney steps to the doorway where he can see through into the next
+room, and then beckons me up for a squint.
+
+It wa'n't the kids at all, but a couple of grownups that was both
+strangers to me. From the way the young woman is dressed I could guess
+she was the new governess. Anyway, she's makin' herself right to home, so
+far as entertainin' comp'ny goes; for she and the gent with her is more
+or less close together and mixed up. First off it looked like a side-hold
+lover's clinch, and then again it didn't.
+
+"Is it a huggin' match, or a rough-house tackle?" I whispered over
+Pinckney's shoulder.
+
+"I pass the declaration," says he. "Suppose we investigate."
+
+With that we strolls in, and we're within a dozen feet of the couple
+before they get wise to the fact that there's an int'rested audience. I
+must say, though, that they made a clean, quick breakaway. Then they
+stands, starin' at us.
+
+"Ah, Miss Marston!" says Pinckney. "Do I interrupt?"
+
+"Why--er--er--you see, sir," she begins, "I--that is--we----"
+
+And she breaks down with as bad a case of rattles as I ever see. She's a
+nice lookin', modest appearin' young woman, too, a little soft about the
+mouth, but more or less classy in her lines. Her hair is some mussed, and
+there's sort of a wild, desp'rate look in her eyes.
+
+"A near relative, I presume?" suggests Pinckney, noddin' at the gent,
+who's takin' it all cool enough.
+
+"Oh, yes, sir," gasps out the governess. "My husband, sir."
+
+And the gent, he bows as easy and natural as if he was bein' introduced
+at an afternoon tea party. "Glad to know you," says he, stickin' out his
+hand, which Pinckney, bein' absent-minded just then, fails to see.
+
+"Really!" says Pinckney, lookin' the governess up and down. "Then it's
+not Miss Marston, but Mrs.--er----"
+
+"Yes," says she, lettin' her chin drop, "Mrs. Marston."
+
+"Very unfortunate," says Pinckney, "very!"
+
+"Haw, haw, haw!" breaks out the strange gent, slappin' his knee. "I say
+now, but that's a good one, that is, even if it is at my expense!
+Unfortunate, eh? Perfectly true though, perfectly true!"
+
+Now it takes a lot to get Pinckney going; but for a minute all he does is
+turn and size up this husband party with the keen sense of humor. I had
+my mouth open and my eyes bugged too; for he don't look the part at all.
+Why, he's dressed neat and expensive, a little sporty maybe, for a real
+gent; but he carries it off well.
+
+"Glad to have your assurance that I was right," says Pinckney, still
+givin' him the frosty eye.
+
+"Oh, don't mention it," says Mr. Marston. "And I trust you will overlook
+my butting in here to see Kitty--er, Mrs. Marston. Little matter of
+sentiment and--well, business, you know. I don't think it will happen
+often."
+
+"I am quite sure it won't," says Pinckney. "And now, if the interview has
+been finished, I would suggest that----"
+
+"Oh, certainly, certainly!" says Marston, edging towards the door. "Allow
+me, gentlemen, to bid you good-day. And I say, Kit, don't forget that
+little matter. By-by."
+
+Honest, if I could make as slick a backout as that, without carryin' away
+anybody's footprint, I'd rate myself a headliner among the trouble
+dodgers. Pinckney, though, don't seem to appreciate such talents.
+
+"That settles governess No. 1," says he as we starts for the elevator
+again. "We are beginning the series well."
+
+That was before he saw how smooth she got along with Jack and Jill. After
+she'd given an exhibition of kid trainin' that was a wonder, he remarked
+that possibly he might as well let her stay the week out.
+
+"But of course," says he, "she will have to go. Hanged if I understand
+how Mrs. Purdy-Pell happened to send her here, either! Shorty, do you
+suppose Sadie could throw any light on this case?"
+
+"I'll call for a report," says I.
+
+Does Sadie know anything about the Marstons? Well, rather! Says she told
+me all about 'em at the time too; but if she did it must have got by.
+Anyway, this was just a plain, simple case of a worthless son marryin'
+the fam'ly governess and bein' thrown out for it by a stern parent, same
+as they always are in them English novels Sadie's forever readin'.
+
+The Marstons was Madison-ave. folks, which means that their back yard was
+bounded on the west by the smart set--and that's as far as there's any
+need of going. The girl comes from 'Frisco and is an earthquake orphan.
+Hence the governess stunt. As for young Marston, he'd been chucked out of
+college, tried out for a failure in the old man's brokerage office, and
+then left to drift around town on a skimpy allowance. So he was in fine
+shape to get married! The girl sticks to him, though, until there's
+trouble with the landlady, and then, when he only turns ugly and makes no
+move towards gettin' a job, she calls it off, gives him the slip, and
+begins rustlin' for herself.
+
+"Oh, well," says Pinckney, "I suppose she ought to have a chance. But if
+that husband of hers is going to----"
+
+"Next time you catch him at it," says I, "just 'phone down for me. It'll
+be a pleasure."
+
+I meant it too; for after hearing how she'd lost other places on account
+of his hangin' around I could have enjoyed mussin' him up some.
+
+With my feelin' that way, you can guess what a jar it is, one afternoon
+when I'm having a little front office chat with my old reg'lar, Pyramid
+Gordon, to see this same gent blow in through the door. Almost looked
+like he knew what he ought to get and had come after it.
+
+"Well?" says I as chilly as I knew how.
+
+"Quite so," says he, "quite so. I see you remember our recent meeting.
+Awkward situation for a moment, wasn't it, eh? Splendid chap, though,
+your friend----"
+
+"Say, choke off the hot air," says I, "and let's hear what gave you the
+courage to climb those stairs!"
+
+And what do you guess? He takes five minutes of steady chinnin' to get
+around to it; but he puts over such a velvety line of talk, and it's so
+int'restin' to watch him do it, that I let him spiel ahead until he gets
+to the enactin' clause in his own way. And it's nothing more or less than
+a brassy fingered touch for a twenty, all based on the fact that he met
+me at a house where his wife's drawin' wages.
+
+"Mr. Gordon," says I, turnin' to Pyramid, who's heard it all, "what do
+you think of that, anyway?"
+
+"Very neat, indeed," says Pyramid, chucklin'.
+
+"And then a few!" says I. "I can almost see myself givin' up that twenty
+right off the bat. Nothing but great presence of mind and wonderful
+self-control holds me back. But look here, Mr. What's-your-name----"
+
+"Marston," says he, flashin' an engraved visitin' card, "L. Egbert
+Marston."
+
+"L. Egbert, eh?" says I. "Does the L stand for Limed? And what do they
+call you for short--Eggie?"
+
+"Oh, suit yourself," says he, with a careless wave of the hand.
+
+"All right, Eggie," says I; "but before we get in any deeper I've got a
+conundrum or two to spring on you. We got kind of curious, Pinckney and
+me, about that visit of yours. He thinks we disturbed a fond embrace. It
+looked diff'rent to me. I thought I could see finger-marks on the young
+lady's throat. How about it?"
+
+Course he flushes up. Any man would under a jab like that, and I looked
+for him either to begin breakin' the peace or start lyin' out of it.
+There's considerable beef to Egbert, you know. He'd probably weigh in at
+a hundred and eighty, with all that flabby meat on him, and if it wa'n't
+for that sort of cheap look to his face you might take him for a real
+man. But he don't show any more fight than a cow. He don't even put in
+any indignant "Not guilty!" He just shrugs his shoulders and indulges in
+a sickly laugh.
+
+"It doesn't sound nice," says he; "but sometimes they do need a bit of
+training, these women."
+
+"For instance?" says I. "In the matter of handing over a little spendin'
+money, eh?"
+
+"You've struck it," says he, with another shrug.
+
+I glances at Pyramid; but there wa'n't any more expression to that draw
+poker face of his than as if it was a cement block.
+
+"Egbert," says I, frank and confidential, "you're a sweet scented pill,
+ain't you?"
+
+And does that draw any assault and battery motions? It don't. All the
+result is to narrow them shifty eyes of his and steady 'em down until
+he's lookin' me square in the face.
+
+"I was hard up, if you want to know," says he. "I didn't have a dollar."
+
+"And that," says I, "is what you give out as an excuse for----"
+
+"Yes," he breaks in. "And I'm no worse than lots of other men, either.
+With money, I'm a gentleman; without it--well, I get it any way I can.
+And I want to tell you, I've seen men with plenty of it get more in
+meaner ways. I don't know how to juggle stocks, or wreck banks, or use
+any of the respectable methods that----"
+
+"Nothing personal, I hope," puts in Mr. Gordon, with another chuckle.
+
+"Not so intended," says Marston.
+
+"Eh, thanks," says Pyramid.
+
+"We'll admit," says I, "that your partic'lar way of raisin' funds, Mr.
+Marston, ain't exactly novel; but didn't it ever occur to you that some
+folks get theirs by workin' for it?"
+
+"I know," says he, tryin' to seem good natured again; "but I'm not that
+kind. I'm an idler. As some poet has put it, 'Useless I linger, a
+cumberer here.'"
+
+"You're a cucumber, all right," says I; "but why not, just for a change,
+make a stab at gettin' a job?"
+
+"I've had several," says he, "and never could hold one more than a week.
+Too monotonous, for one thing; and then, in these offices, one is thrown
+among so many ill bred persons, you know."
+
+"Sure!" says I, feelin' my temper'ture risin'. "Parties that had rather
+work for a pay envelope than choke their wives. I've met 'em. I've heard
+of your kind too, Egbert; but you're the first specimen I ever got real
+close to. And you're a bird! Mr. Gordon, shall I chuck him through the
+window, or help him downstairs with my toe?"
+
+"I wouldn't do either," says Pyramid. "In fact, I think I can make use of
+this young man."
+
+"Then you're welcome to him," says I. "Blaze ahead."
+
+"Much obliged," says Pyramid. "Now, Mr. Marston, what is the most
+reasonable sum, per month, that would allow you to carry out your idea of
+being a gentleman?"
+
+Egbert thinks that over a minute and then puts it at three hundred.
+
+"And would it conflict with those ideas," Pyramid goes on, "if you were
+required, say twice a week, to spend an hour in a private office, signing
+your name?"
+
+Egbert thinks he could stand that.
+
+"Very well, then," says Pyramid, producin' his checkbook and gettin' busy
+with the fountain pen, "here is your first month's salary in advance.
+Whenever you find it convenient during the week, report at my offices.
+Ask for Mr. Bradley. Yes, Bradley. That's all," and Pyramid lights up one
+of his torches as satisfied as though he'd just bought in a Senator.
+
+As for Egbert, he stows the check away, taps me on the shoulder, and
+remarks real friendly, "Well, professor, no hard feelings, I hope?"
+
+"Say, Eggie," says I, "seems to me I expressed myself once on that point,
+and I ain't had any sudden change of heart. If I was you I'd beat while
+the beatin's good."
+
+Egbert laughs; but he takes the advice.
+
+"Huh!" says I to Pyramid. "I expect that's your notion of making a funny
+play, eh!"
+
+"I'm no humorist, Shorty," says he.
+
+"Then what's the idea?" says I. "What do you mean?"
+
+"I never mean anything but cold, straight business," says he. "That's the
+only game worth playing."
+
+"So?" says I. "Then here's where you got let in bad with your eyes open.
+You heard him tell how useless he was?"
+
+"I did," says Pyramid; "but I always do my own appraising when I hire
+men. I anticipate finding Mr. Marston somewhat useful."
+
+And say, that's all I can get out of Pyramid on the subject; for when it
+comes to business, he's about as chatty over his plans as a hard shell
+clam on the suffragette question. I've known him to make some freak
+plans; but this move of pickin' out a yellow one like Egbert and
+rewardin' him as if he was a Carnegie medal winner beat anything he'd
+ever sprung yet.
+
+It's no bluff, either. I hears of this Marston gent sportin' around at
+the clubs, and it wa'n't until I accident'lly run across an item on the
+Wall Street page that I gets any more details. He shows up, if you
+please, as secretary of the Consolidated Holding Company that there's
+been so much talk about. I asks Pinckney what kind of an outfit that was;
+but he don't know.
+
+"Huh!" says I. "All I'd feel safe in givin' Egbert to hold for me would
+be one end of the Brooklyn Bridge."
+
+"I don't care what he holds," says Pinckney, "if he will stay away from
+our little governess. She's a treasure."
+
+Seems Mrs. Marston had been doin' some great tricks with the twins, not
+only keepin' 'em from marrin' the furniture, but teachin' 'em all kinds
+of knowledge and improvin' their table manners, until it was almost safe
+to have 'em down to luncheon now and then.
+
+But her life was being made miser'ble by the prospect of havin' Egbert
+show up any day and create a row. She confided the whole tale to Sadie,
+how she was through with Marston for good, but didn't dare tell him so,
+and how she sent him most of her salary to keep him away.
+
+"The loafer!" says I. "And think of the chance I had at him there in the
+studio! Hanged if I don't get even with Pyramid for that, though!"
+
+But I didn't. Mr. Gordon's been too busy this season to show up for any
+trainin', and it was only here the other day that I runs across him in
+the street.
+
+"Well," says I, "how's that work scornin' pet of yours gettin' on these
+days?"
+
+"Marston?" says he. "Why, haven't you heard? Mr. Marston is away on a
+vacation."
+
+"Vacation!" says I. "He needs it, he does!"
+
+"The company thought so," says Pyramid. "They gave him six months' leave
+with pay. He's hunting reindeer or musk ox somewhere up in British
+Columbia."
+
+"Him a hunter?" says I. "G'wan!"
+
+Pyramid grins. "He did develop a liking for the wilderness rather
+suddenly," says he; "but that is where he is now. In fact, I shouldn't be
+surprised if he stayed up there for a year or more."
+
+"What's the joke?" says I, catchin' a flicker in them puffy eyes of
+Pyramid's.
+
+"Why, just this," says he. "Mr. Marston, you know, is secretary of the
+Consolidated Holding Company."
+
+"Yes, I read about that," says I. "What then?"
+
+"It pains me to state," says Mr. Gordon, "that in his capacity of
+secretary Mr. Marston seems to have sanctioned transactions which violate
+the Interstate Commerce act."
+
+"Ah-ha!" says I. "Turned crooked on you, did he?"
+
+"We are not sure as yet," says Pyramid. "The federal authorities are
+anxious to settle that point by examining certain files which appear to
+be missing. They even asked me about them. Perhaps you didn't notice,
+Shorty, that I was cross-examined for five hours, one day last week."
+
+"I don't read them muck rakin' articles," says I.
+
+"Quite right," says Pyramid. "Well, I couldn't explain; for, as their own
+enterprising detectives discovered, when Mr. Marston boarded the Montreal
+Express his baggage included a trunk and two large cases. Odd of him to
+take shipping files on a hunting trip, wasn't it?" and Pyramid tips me
+the slow wink.
+
+I'm more or less of a thickhead when it comes to flossy finance; but I've
+seen enough plain flimflam games to know a few things. And the wink
+clinched it. "Mr. Gordon," says I, "for a Mr. Smooth you've got a greased
+pig in the warthog class. But suppose Egbert gets sick of the woods and
+hikes himself back? What then?"
+
+"Jail," says Pyramid, shruggin' his sable collar up around his ears.
+"That would be rather deplorable too. Bright young man, Marston, in many
+ways, and peculiarly adapted for----"
+
+"Yes, I know the part," says I. "They gen'rally spells it g-o-a-t."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+MRS. TRUCKLES' BROAD JUMP
+
+
+And do you imagine Kitty Marston settles down to a life job after that?
+Not her. At the very next pay day she hands in her two weeks' notice, and
+when they pin her right down to facts she admits weepy that she means to
+start out lookin' for Egbert. Now wouldn't that crust you?
+
+Course, the sequel to that is another governess hunt which winds up with
+Madame Roulaire. And say, talk about your queer cases----But you might as
+well have the details.
+
+You see, until Aunt Martha arrived on the scene this Madame Roulaire
+business was only a fam'ly joke over to Pinckney's, with all of us in on
+it more or less. But Aunt Martha ain't been there more'n three or four
+days before she's dug up mystery and scandal and tragedy enough for
+another one of them French dope dramas.
+
+"In my opinion," says she, "that woman is hiding some dreadful secret!"
+
+But Mrs. Pinckney only smiles in that calm, placid way of hers. You know
+how easy she took things when she was Miss Geraldine and Pinckney found
+her on the steamer in charge of the twins that had been willed to him?
+Well, she ain't changed a bit; and, with Pinckney such a brilliant member
+of the Don't Worry Fraternity, whatever frettin' goes on in that house
+has to be done by volunteers.
+
+Aunt Martha acts like she was wise to this; for she starts right in to
+make up for lost opportunities, and when she spots this freaky lookin'
+governess she immediately begins scoutin' for trouble. Suspicions? She
+delivers a fresh lot after every meal!
+
+"Humph!" says she. "Madame Roulaire, indeed! Well, I must say, she looks
+as little like a Frenchwoman as any person I ever saw! How long have you
+had her, Geraldine? What, only two months? Did she bring written
+references, and did you investigate them carefully?"
+
+She wouldn't let up, either, until she'd been assured that Madame
+Roulaire had come from service in an English fam'ly, and that they'd
+written on crested notepaper indorsin' her in every point, giving her
+whole hist'ry from childhood up.
+
+"But she hasn't the slightest French accent," insists Aunt Martha.
+
+"I know," says Mrs. Pinckney. "She lived in England from the time she was
+sixteen, and of course twenty years away from one's----"
+
+"Does she claim to be only thirty-six?" exclaims Aunt Martha. "Why, she's
+fifty if she's a day! Besides, I don't like that snaky way she has of
+watching everyone."
+
+There was no denyin', either, that this Roulaire party did have a pair of
+shifty eyes in her head. I'd noticed that much myself in the few times
+I'd seen her. They wa'n't any particular color you could name,--sort of a
+greeny gray-blue,--but they sure was bright and restless. You'd never
+hear a sound out of her, for she didn't let go of any remarks that wa'n't
+dragged from her; but somehow you felt, from the minute you got into the
+room until she'd made a gumshoe exit by the nearest door, that them
+sleuthy lamps never quite lost sight of you.
+
+That and her smile was the main points about her. I've seen a lot of
+diff'rent kinds of smiles, meanin' and unmeanin'; but this chronic
+half-smirk of Madame Roulaire's was about the most unconvincin'
+performance I've ever watched. Why, even a blind man could tell she
+didn't really mean it! Outside of that, she was just a plain, pie faced
+sort of female with shrinkin', apologizin' ways and a set of store teeth
+that didn't fit any too well; but she wa'n't one that you'd suspect of
+anything more tragic than eatin' maraschino cherries on the sly, or
+swappin' household gossip with the cook.
+
+That wa'n't the way Martha had her sized up, though, and of course there
+was no keepin' her inquisitive nose out of the case. First thing anyone
+knew, she'd backed Madame Roulaire into a corner, put her through the
+third degree, and come trottin' back in triumph to Mrs. Pinckney.
+
+"Didn't I tell you?" says she. "French! Bosh! Perhaps you haven't asked
+her about Auberge-sur-Mer, where she says she was born?"
+
+Greraldine admits that she ain't done much pumpin'.
+
+"Well, I have," says Aunt Martha, "and she couldn't tell me a thing about
+the place that was so. I spent ten days there only two years ago, and
+remember it perfectly. She isn't any more French than I am."
+
+"Oh, what of it?" says Mrs. Pinckney. "She gets along splendidly with the
+twins. They think the world of her."
+
+"But she's thoroughly deceitful," Aunt Martha comes back. "She
+misrepresents her age, lies about her birthplace, and--and she wears a
+transformation wig."
+
+"Yes, I had noticed the brown wig," admits Mrs. Pinckney; "but they're
+quite common."
+
+"So are women poisoners," snaps Martha. "Think of what happened to the
+Briggses, after they took in that strange maid! Then there was the Madame
+Catossi case, over in Florence last year. They were warned about her, you
+remember."
+
+And maybe you know how a good lively suspecter can get results when she
+keeps followin' it up. They got to watchin' the governess close when she
+was around, and noticin' all the little slips in her talk and the
+crab-like motions she made in dodgin' strangers. That appears to make her
+worse than ever, too. She'd get fussed every time anyone looked her way,
+and just some little question about the children would make her jump and
+color up like she'd been accused of burnin' a barn. Even Sadie, who'd
+been standin' up for her right along, begins to weaken.
+
+"After all," says she, "I'm not sure there isn't something queer about
+that woman."
+
+"Ah, all governesses are queer, ain't they?" says I; "but that ain't any
+sign they've done time or are in the habit of dosin' the coffeepot with
+arsenic. It's Aunt Martha has stirred all this mess up, and she'd make
+the angel Gabriel prove who he was by blowin' bugle calls."
+
+It was only next day, though, that we gets a report of what happens when
+Pinckney runs across this Sir Carpenter-Podmore at the club and lugs him
+out to dinner. He's an English gent Pinckney had known abroad. Comin' in
+unexpected that way, him and Madame Roulaire had met face to face in the
+hall, while the introductions was bein' passed out--and what does she do
+but turn putty colored and shake like she was havin' a fit!
+
+"Ah, Truckles?" says Podmore, sort of cordial.
+
+"No, no!" she gasps. "Roulaire! I am Madame Roulaire!"
+
+"Beg pardon, I'm sure," says Sir Carpenter, liftin' his eyebrows and
+passin' on.
+
+That was all there was to it; but everyone in the house heard about it.
+Course Aunt Martha jumps right in with the question marks; but all she
+gets out of Podmore is that he presumes he was mistaken.
+
+"Well, maybe he was," says I. "Why not?"
+
+"Then you haven't heard," says Sadie, "that Sir Carpenter was for a long
+time a Judge on the criminal bench."
+
+"Z-z-z-zing!" says I. "Looks kind of squally for the governess, don't
+it?"
+
+If it hadn't been for Pinckney, too, Aunt Martha'd had her thrown out
+that night; but he wouldn't have it that way.
+
+"I've never been murdered in my bed, or been fed on ground glass," says
+he, "and--who knows?--I might like the sensation."
+
+Say, there's more sides to that Pinckney than there are to a cutglass
+paperweight. You might think, with him such a Reggie chap, that havin' a
+suspicious character like that around would get on his nerves; but, when
+it comes to applyin' the real color test, there ain't any more yellow in
+him than in a ball of bluin', and he can be as curious about certain
+things as a kid investigatin' the animal cages.
+
+Rather than tie the can to Madame Roulaire without gettin' a straight
+line on her, he was willin' to run chances. And it don't make any
+difference to him how much Aunt Martha croaks about this and that, and
+suggests how dreadful it is to think of those dear, innocent little
+children exposed to such evil influences. That last item appeals strong
+to Mrs. Pinckney and Sadie, though.
+
+"Of course," says Geraldine, "the twins don't suspect a thing as yet, and
+whatever we discover must be kept from them."
+
+"Certainly," says Sadie, "the poor little dears mustn't know."
+
+So part of the programme was to keep them out of her way as much as
+possible without actually callin' her to the bench, and that's what
+fetched me out there early the other afternoon. It was my turn at
+protectin' innocent childhood. I must say, though, it's hard realizin'
+they need anything of that sort when you're within reach of that Jack and
+Jill combination. Most people seem to feel the other way; but, while
+their society is apt to be more or less strenuous, I can gen'rally stand
+an hour or so of it without collectin' any broken bones.
+
+As usual, they receives me with an ear splittin' whoop, and while Jill
+gives me the low tackle around the knees Jack proceeds to climb up my
+back and twine his arms affectionate around my neck.
+
+"Hey, Uncle Shorty," they yells in chorus, "come play Wild West with
+us!"
+
+"G'wan, you young terrors!" says I, luggin' 'em out on the lawn and
+dumpin' 'em on the grass. "Think I'd risk my neck at any such game as
+that? Hi! leggo that necktie or I'll put on the spanks! Say, ain't you
+got any respect for company clothes? Now straighten up quiet and tell me
+about the latest deviltry you've been up to."
+
+"Pooh!" says Jill. "We're not afraid of you."
+
+"And we know why you're here to-day, too," says Jack.
+
+"Do you?" says I. "Well, let's have it."
+
+"You're on guard," says Jill, "keeping us away from old Clicky."
+
+"Old Clicky?" says I.
+
+"Uh-huh," says Jack. "The goosy governess, you know."
+
+"Eh?" says I, openin' my eyes.
+
+"We call her that," says Jill, "because her teeth click so when she gets
+excited. At night she keeps 'em in a glass of water. Do you suppose they
+click then?"
+
+"Her hair comes off too," says Jack, "and it's all gray underneath. We
+fished it off once, and she was awful mad."
+
+"You just ought to hear her when she gets mad," says Jill. "She drops her
+H's."
+
+"She don't do it before folks, though," says Jack, "'cause she makes
+believe she's French. She's awful good to us, though, and we love her
+just heaps."
+
+"You've got queer ways of showin' it," says I.
+
+"What makes Aunt Martha so scared of her?" says Jill. "Do you think it's
+so she would really and truly murder us all and run off with the jewelry,
+or that she'd let in burglars after dark? She meets someone every
+Thursday night by the side gate, you know."
+
+"A tall woman with veils over her face," adds Jack. "We hid in the bushes
+and watched 'em."
+
+"Say, for the love of Mike," says I, "is there anything about your
+governess you kids haven't heard or seen? What more do you know?"
+
+"Lots," says Jill. "She's scared of Marie, the new maid. Marie makes her
+help with the dishes, and make up her own bed, and wait on herself all
+the time."
+
+"And she has to study beforehand all the lessons she makes us learn,"
+says Jack. "She studies like fun every night in her room, and when we ask
+questions from the back of the book she don't know the answers."
+
+"She's been too scared to study or anything, ever since Monday," says
+Jill. "Do you think they'll have a policeman take her away before she
+poisons us all? We heard Aunt Martha say they ought to."
+
+Say, they had the whole story, and more too. If there was anything about
+Madame Roulaire's actions, her past hist'ry, or what people thought of
+her that had got by these two, I'd like to know what it was.
+
+"Gee!" says I. "Talk about protectin' you! What you need most is a pair
+of gags and some blinders. Now trot along off and do your worst, while I
+look up Pinckney and give him some advice."
+
+I was strollin' through the house lookin' for him, and I'd got as far as
+the lib'ry, when who should I see but Madame Roulaire comin' through the
+opposite door. Someway, I didn't feel like meetin' them sleuthy eyes just
+then, or seein' that smirky smile; so I dodges back and pikes down the
+hall. She must have had the same thought; for we almost collides head on
+halfway down, and the next thing I know she's dropped onto a davenport,
+sobbin' and shakin' all over.
+
+"Excuse me for mentionin' it," says I; "but there ain't any call for
+hysterics."
+
+"Oh, I know who you are now," says she. "You--you're a private
+detective!"
+
+"Eh?" says I. "How'd you get onto my disguise?"
+
+"I knew it from the first," says she. "And then, when I saw you with the
+children, asking them about me----Oh, you won't arrest me and take me
+away from the darlings, will you? Please don't take me to jail! I'll tell
+you everything, truly I will, sir!"
+
+"That might help some," says I; "but, if you're goin' to 'fess up,
+suppose you begin at Chapter I. Was it the fam'ly jewels you was after?"
+
+"No, no!" says she. "I never took a penny's worth in my life. Truckles
+could tell you that if he could only be here."
+
+"Truckles, eh!" says I. "Now just who was----"
+
+"My 'usband, sir," says she. "And I'm Mrs. Truckles."
+
+"Oh-ho!" says I. "Then this Roulaire name you've been flaggin' under was
+sort of a _nom de plume_?"
+
+"It was for Katy I did it!" she sobs.
+
+"Oh, yes," says I. "Well, what about Katy?"
+
+And, say, that was the way it come out; first, a bit here and then a bit
+there, with me puttin' the ends together and patchin' this soggy everyday
+yarn out of what we'd all thought was such a deep, dark mystery.
+
+She was English, Mrs. Truckles was, and so was the late Truckles. They'd
+worked together, him bein' a first class butler whose only fault was he
+couldn't keep his fingers off the decanters. It was after he'd struck the
+bottom of the toboggan slide and that thirst of his had finished him for
+good and all that Mrs. Truckles collects her little Katy from where
+they'd boarded her out and comes across to try her luck on this side.
+
+She'd worked up as far as housekeeper, and had made enough to educate
+Katy real well and marry her off to a bright young gent by the name of
+McGowan that owned a half interest in a corner saloon up in the Bronx and
+stood well with the district leader.
+
+She was happy and contented in them days, Mrs. Truckles was, with McGowan
+doin' a rushin' business, gettin' his name on the Tammany ticket, and
+Katy patronizing a swell dressmaker and havin' a maid of her own. Then,
+all of a sudden, Mrs. Truckles tumbles to the fact that Katy is gettin'
+ashamed of havin' a mother that's out to service and eatin' with the
+chauffeur and the cook. Not that she wants her livin' with them,--McGowan
+wouldn't stand for that,--but Katy did think Mother might do something
+for a living that wouldn't blur up the fam'ly escutcheon quite so much.
+
+It was just when Mrs. Truckles was feelin' this most keen that the French
+governess where she was got married and went West to live, leavin' behind
+her, besides a collection of old hats, worn out shoes, and faded picture
+postals, this swell reference from Lady Jigwater. And havin' put in a
+year or so in France with dif'rent families that had taken her across,
+and havin' had to pick up more or less of the language, Mrs. Truckles
+conceives the great scheme of promotin' herself from the back to the
+front of the house. So she chucks up as workin' housekeeper, splurges on
+the wig, and strikes a swell intelligence office with this phony
+reference.
+
+Course, with anybody else but an easy mark like Mrs. Pinckney, maybe she
+wouldn't have got away with it; but all Geraldine does is glance at the
+paper, ask her if she likes children, and put her on the payroll.
+
+"Well?" says I. "And it got you some worried tryin' to make good, eh?"
+
+"I was near crazy over it," says she. "I thought I could do it at first;
+but it came cruel 'ard. Oh, sir, the lies I've 'ad to tell, keepin' it
+up. And with the rest of the 'elp all 'ating me! Marie used me worst of
+all, though. She made me tell 'er everything, and 'eld it over my 'ead.
+Next that Aunt Martha came and thought up so many bad things about
+me--you know."
+
+"Sure," says I; "but how about this Sir Podmore?"
+
+"I was 'ead laundress at Podmore 'Ouse," says she, "and I thought it was
+all up when he saw me here. I never should have tried to do it. I'm a
+good 'ousekeeper, if I do say it; but I'm getting to be an old woman now,
+and this will end me. It was for Katy I did it, though. Every week she
+used to come and throw it in my face that she couldn't call at the front
+door and--and----Well, I 'opes you'll believe me, sir; but that was just
+the way of it, and if I'm taken to jail it will kill Katy and----"
+
+"Aha!" breaks in a voice behind us. "Here, Pinckney! Come, Geraldine!
+This way everybody!" and as I turns around there's Aunt Martha with the
+accusin' finger out and her face fairly beamin'. Before I can get in a
+word she's assembled the fam'ly.
+
+"What did I tell you?" she cackles. "She's broken down and confessed! I
+heard her!"
+
+"Is it true, Shorty?" demands Mrs. Pinckney. "Does she admit that she was
+plotting to----"
+
+"Yep!" says I. "It's something awful too, almost enough to curdle your
+blood."
+
+"Go on," says Aunt Martha. "Tell us the worst. What is it?"
+
+"It's a case of standin' broad jump," says I, "from housekeeper to
+governess, with an age handicap and a crooked entry."
+
+Course, I has to work out the details for 'em, and when I've stated the
+whole hideous plot, from the passing of Truckles the Thirsty to the high
+pride of Katy the Barkeep's Bride, includin' the tale of the stolen
+character and chuckin' the nervy bluff--well, they didn't any of 'em know
+what to say. They just stands around gawpin' curious at this sobbin',
+wabbly kneed old party slumped down there on the hall seat.
+
+Aunt Martha, actin' as prosecutor for the State, is the first to recover.
+"Well, there's no knowin' how far she might have gone," says she. "And
+she ought to be punished some way. Pinckney, what are you going to do
+with her?"
+
+For a minute he looks from Aunt Martha to the object in the middle of the
+circle, and then he drops them black eyelashes lazy, like he was
+half-asleep, and I knew somethin' was coming worth listenin' to.
+
+"Considering all the circumstances," says Pinckney, "I think we shall
+discharge Marie, increase Mrs. Truckles' salary, give her an assistant,
+and ask her to stay with us permanently. Eh, Geraldine?"
+
+And Geraldine nods hearty.
+
+"Pinckney, let's shake on that," says I. "Even if your head is full of
+soap bubbles, you've got an eighteen-carat heart in you. Hear the news,
+Mrs. Truckles?"
+
+"Then--then I'm not to go to jail?" says she, takin' her hands off her
+face and lookin' up straight and steady for the first time in months.
+
+"Jail nothin'!" says I. "There's goin' to be a new deal, and you start in
+fresh with a clean slate."
+
+"Humph!" snorts Aunt Martha. "Do you expect me to stay here and
+countenance any such folly?"
+
+"I'm far too considerate of my relatives for that," says Pinckney.
+"There's a train at five-thirty-six."
+
+And, say, to see Mrs. Truckles now, with her gray hair showin' natural,
+and her chin up, and a twin hangin' to either hand, and the sleuthy look
+gone out of them old eyes, you'd hardly know her for the same party!
+
+These antelope leaps is all right sometimes; but when you take 'em you
+want to be wearin' your own shoes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+HEINEY TAKES THE GLOOM CURE
+
+
+Two in one day, mind you. It just goes to show what effect the first dose
+of hot weather is liable to have on the custard heads. Well, maybe I
+oughtn't to call 'em that, either. They can't seem to help gettin' that
+way, any more'n other folks can dodge havin' bad dreams, or boils on the
+neck. And I ain't any mind specialist; so when it comes to sayin' what'll
+soften up a man's brain, or whether he couldn't sidestep it if he tried,
+I passes the make.
+
+Now look at this dippy move of Mr. Jarvis's. Guess you don't remember
+him. I'd 'most forgot him myself, it's so long since he was around; but
+he's the young chap that owns that big Blenmont place, the gent that
+Swifty and I helped out with the fake match when he----Well, never mind
+that yarn. He got the girl, all right; and as he had everything else
+anybody could think of, it should have been a case of lockin' trouble on
+the outside and takin' joy for a permanent boarder.
+
+But there the other mornin', just as I was havin' a breathin' spell after
+hammerin' some surplus ego out of a young society sport that had the idea
+he could box, the studio door opens, and in pokes this Mr. Jarvis, actin'
+like he'd been doped.
+
+Now he's a big, husky, full blooded young gent, that's always used
+himself well, never collected any bad habits, and knows no more about
+being sick than a cat knows about swimmin'. Add to that the fact that
+he's one of the unemployed rich, with more money than he knows how to
+spend, and you can figure out how surprised I am to see that down and out
+look on his face. Course, I thinks something serious has been happenin'
+to him, and I treats him real gentle.
+
+"Hello, Mr. Jarvis!" says I. "Somebody been throwin' the hooks into you,
+have they?"
+
+"Oh, no," says he. "No, I--I'm all right."
+
+"That's good," says I. "Dropped in to let me hand you a few vibrations
+with the mitts?"
+
+"No, thank you, Shorty," says he, fingerin' a chair-back sort of
+hesitatin', as if he didn't know whether to sit down or stand up. "That
+is--er--I think I don't care for a bout to-day. I--I'm hardly in the
+mood, you see."
+
+"Just as you say," says I. "Have a seat, anyway. Sure! That one; it's
+reserved for you. Maybe you come in to enjoy some of my polite and
+refined conversation?"
+
+"Why--er--the fact is, Shorty," says he, fixin' his tie kind of nervous,
+"I--I don't know just why I did come in. I think I started for the club,
+and as I was passing by in a cab I looked up here at your
+windows--and--and----"
+
+"Of course," says I, soothin'. "What's the use goin' to the club when the
+Physical Culture Studio is handier? You're feelin' fine as silk; how're
+you lookin'?"
+
+"Eh? Beg pardon?" says he, gettin' twisted up on that mothy gag. "Oh, I
+see! I'm looking rotten, thank you, and feeling the same."
+
+"G'wan!" says I. "You ain't got any license to have feelin's like that.
+Guess you got the symptoms mixed. But where do you think it hurts most?"
+
+Well, it takes five or ten minutes of jollyin' like that to pull any
+details at all out of Jarvis, and when I does get the whole heartrendin'
+story, I hardly knows whether to give him the laugh, or to send out for a
+nursin' bottle.
+
+Ever seen a great, grown man play the baby act? Talk about a woman in a
+cryin' spell! That ain't a marker to watchin' a six-foot, one hundred and
+eighty-pound free citizen droop his mouth corners and slump his shoulders
+over nothin' at all. Course, I don't always feel like a hickey boy
+myself, and I'll admit there are times when the rosy tints get a little
+clouded up; but I has my own way of workin' out of such spells before the
+mullygrubs turns my gray matter into curdled milk. But Jarvis, he's as
+blue as a rainy Monday with the wash all in soak.
+
+In the first place, he's been alone for nearly three whole weeks, the
+women folks all bein' abroad, and it's a new experience for him. Think of
+that awful calamity happenin' to a man of his size! Seems that before he
+was married he'd always carted mother and sister around, under the idea
+that he was lookin' out for them, when as a matter of fact they was the
+ones that was lookin' after him. Then Mrs. Jarvis, Lady Evelyn that was,
+takes him in hand and makes him more helpless than ever. He never
+mistrusts how much he's been mollycoddled, until he finds himself with
+nobody but a valet, a housekeeper, and seventeen assorted servants to
+help him along in the struggle for existence.
+
+His first move after the ladies have sailed is to smoke until his tongue
+feels like a pussycat's back, eat his lonesome meals at lunch-counter
+clip, and work himself into a mild bilious state. That makes him a little
+cranky with the help, and, as there's no one around to smooth 'em out,
+the cook and half a dozen maids leaves in a bunch. His head coachman goes
+off on a bat, the housekeeper skips out to Ohio to bury an aunt, and the
+domestic gear at Blenmont gets to runnin' about as smooth as a flat wheel
+trolley car on a new roadbed.
+
+To finish off the horrible situation, Jarvis has had a misunderstandin'
+with a landscape architect that he'd engaged to do things to the grounds.
+Jarvis had planned to plant a swan lake in the front yard; but the
+landscaper points out that it can't be done because there's a hill in the
+way.
+
+"To be sure," says Jarvis, "these are little things; but I've been
+worrying over them until--until---- Well, I'm in bad shape, Shorty."
+
+"It's a wonder you're still alive," says I.
+
+"Don't!" says he, groanin'. "It is too serious a matter. Perhaps you
+don't know it, but I had an uncle that drank himself to death."
+
+"Huh!" says I. "'Most everybody has had an uncle of that kind."
+
+"And one of my cousins," Jarvis goes on, lowerin' his voice and lookin'
+around cautious, "shot himself--in the head!"
+
+"Eh?" says I. And then I begun to get a glimmer of what he was drivin'
+at. "What! You don't mean that you were thinkin' of--of----"
+
+He groans again and nods his head.
+
+Then I cuts loose. "Why, look here!" says I. "You soft boiled, mush
+headed, spineless imitation of a real man! do you mean to tell me that,
+just because you've been tied loose from a few skirts for a week or so,
+and have had to deal with some grouchy hired hands, you've actually gone
+jelly brained over it?"
+
+Perhaps that don't make him squirm some, though! He turns white first,
+and then he gets the hectic flush. "Pardon me, McCabe," says he,
+stiffenin' up, "but I don't care to have anyone talk to me like----"
+
+"Ah, pickles!" says I. "I'll talk to you a good deal straighter'n that,
+before I finish! And you'll take it, too! Why, you great, overgrown kid!
+what right have you developin' such a yellow cur streak as that? You!
+What you need is to be laid over that chair and paddled, and blamed if I
+don't know but I'd better----"
+
+But just here the door creaks, and in drifts the other one. Hanged if I
+ever did know what his real name was. I called him Heiney Kirschwasser
+for short, though he says he ain't Dutch at all, but Swiss-French; and
+that it ain't kirsch that's his failin', but prune brandy. He's the mop
+and broom artist for the buildin', some floater the janitor picked up off
+the sidewalk a few months back.
+
+He wa'n't exactly a decorative object, this Heiney; but he's kind of a
+picturesque ruin. His widest part is around the belt; and from there he
+tapers both ways, his shoulders bein' a good eight inches narrower; and
+on top of them, with no neck to speak of, is a head shaped like a gum
+drop, bald on top, and remindin' you of them mountain peaks you see in
+pictures, or a ham set on end.
+
+He has a pair of stary, pop eyes, a high colored beak that might be used
+as a danger signal, and a black, shoebrush beard, trimmed close except
+for a little spike under the chin, that gives the lower part of his face
+a look like the ace of spades. His mornin' costume is a faded blue
+jumper, brown checked pants, and an old pair of rubber soled shoes that
+Swifty had donated to him.
+
+That's Heiney's description, as near as I can get to it. He comes
+shufflin' in, luggin' a scrub pail in one hand, and draggin' a mop in the
+other, and he looks about as cheerful as a worn-out hearse that's been
+turned into an ash wagon.
+
+"Heiney," says I, "you're just in time. Still lookin' for a nice,
+comfortable place to die in, are you?"
+
+Heiney shrugs his shoulders and lifts his eyebrows in a lifeless sort of
+style. He does most of his conversin' that way; but he can say more with
+a few shrugs than Swifty Joe can by usin' both sides of his mouth. What
+Heiney means is that one place is as good as another, and he don't care
+how soon he finds it.
+
+"Well, cheer up, Heiney," says I; "for I've just decided to give you the
+use of my back room to shuffle off in. I've got comp'ny for you, too.
+Here's a friend of mine that feels the same way you do. Mr. Jarvis, Mr.
+Heiney Kirschwasser."
+
+And you should have seen the look of disgust on Jarvis's face as he sizes
+up the specimen. "Oh, I say now, Shorty," he begins, "there's such a
+thing as----"
+
+"G'wan!" says I. "Wa'n't you just tellin' me about how you was plannin' a
+job for the coroner? And Heiney's been threatenin' to do the same thing
+for weeks. He comes in here every day or so and talks about jumpin' off
+the dock, or doin' the air dance. I've been stavin' him off with slugs of
+prune brandy and doses of good advice; but if a chap like you has caught
+the fever, then I see I've been doin' wrong not to let Heiney have his
+way. Now there's the back room, with plenty of rope and gasjets. Get on
+in there, both of you, and make a reg'lar bee of it!"
+
+Heiney, he stands blinkin' and starin' at Jarvis, until he gets him so
+nervous he almost screams.
+
+"For Heaven's sake, Shorty," says Jarvis, "let's not joke about such a
+subject!"
+
+"Joke!" says I. "You're the one that's supplyin' the comedy here. Now
+Heiney is serious. He'd do the trick in a minute if he had the nerve.
+He's got things on his mind, Heiney has. And what's the odds if they
+ain't so? Compared to what you've been fussin' about, they're----Here,
+Heiney, you tell the gentleman that tale of yours. Begin where you was a
+cook in some seashore hotel in Switzerland."
+
+"Not zeashore! _Non_!" says Heiney, droppin' his pail and wavin' one
+hand. "Eet ees at Lack Como, in ze montongs. I am ze head chef, _moi!_"
+
+"Yes, you look it!" says I. "A fine figure of a chef you'd make! wouldn't
+you? Well, go on: about bein' full of prunes when they called on you to
+season the soup. What was it you dumped in instead of salt,--arsenic,
+eh?"
+
+"_Non, non!_" says Heiney, gettin' excited. "Ze poison for ze r-r-rat. I
+keep heem in one tin can, same as ze salt. I am what you call intoxicate.
+I make ze mistak'. Ah, _diable! Deux, trois_--t'ree hundred guests are
+zere. Zey eat ze soup. Zen come by me ze _maitre d'hotel._ He say ze soup
+ees spoil. Eet has ze foony taste. Ah, mon _Dieu! Mon_----"
+
+"Yes, yes," says I. "Never mind whether it was Monday or Tuesday. What
+did you do then?"
+
+"_Moi_? I fly!" says Heiney. "I am distract. I r-r-r-run on ze
+r-r-r-road. I tear-r-r off my white apron, my white chapeau. Ah,
+_sacr-r-re nom!_ How my heart is thoomp, thoomp, on my inside! All night
+I speak to myself: 'You have keel zem all! Ze _belle_ ladies! Ze _pauvre_
+shildren! All, you have poi-zon-ed! Zey make to tweest up on ze floor!'
+Ah, _diable_! Always I can see zem tweest up!"
+
+"Reg'lar rough on rats carnival, eh?" says I. "Three hundred beautiful
+ladies and poor children, not to mention a few men, doin' the agony act
+on the dinin' room floor! There, Jarvis! How'd you like to carry round a
+movin' picture film like that in your mem'ry? Course, I've tried to
+explain to Heiney that nothing of the kind ever took place; that the
+papers would have been full of it; and that he'd been in the jug long
+before this, if it had. But this is Heiney's own particular pipe dream,
+and he can't let go of it. It's got tangled up in the works somehow, and
+nothing I can say will jar it loose. Poor cuss! Look at him! No doubt
+about its seemin' real to him, is there? And how does your little
+collection of fleabites show up alongside it; eh, Jarvis?"
+
+But Jarvis, he's gazin' at Heiney as if this lump of moldy sweitzerkase
+was fascinatin' to look at.
+
+"I beg pardon," says he, "but you say this hotel was at Lake Como?"
+
+Heiney nods his head, then covers his face with his hands, as if he was
+seein' things again.
+
+"And what was the date of this--this unfortunate occurrence?" says
+Jarvis.
+
+"Year before the last, in Augoost," says Heiney, shudderin',--"Augoost
+seven."
+
+"The seventh of August!" says Jarvis. "And was your hotel the Occident?"
+
+"_Oui, oui_!" says Heiney. "_L'Hotel Occident_."
+
+"Guess he means Accident," says I. "What do you know about it, Jarvis?"
+
+"Why," says he, "I was there."
+
+"What?" says I. "Here, Heiney, wake up! Here's one of the victims of your
+rat poison soup. Does he look as though he'd been through that floor
+tweestin' orgy?"
+
+With that Heiney gets mighty interested; but he ain't convinced until
+Jarvis gives him all the details, even to namin' the landlord and
+describin' the head waiter.
+
+"But ze soup!" says Heiney. "Ze poi-zon-ed soup?"
+
+"It was bad soup," says Jarvis; "but not quite so bad as that. Nobody
+could eat it, and I believe the final report that we had on the subject
+was to the effect that a half intoxicated chef had seasoned it with the
+powdered alum that should have gone into the morning rolls."
+
+"Ze alum! Ze alum! Of zat I nevair think!" squeals Heiney, flopping down
+on his knees. "Ah, _le bon Dieu! Le bon Dieu_!"
+
+He clasps his hands in front of him and rolls his eyes to the ceilin'.
+Say, it was the liveliest French prayin' I ever saw; for Heiney is
+rockin' back and forth, his pop eyes leakin' brine, and the polly-voo
+conversation is bubblin' out of him like water out of a bu'sted fire
+hydrant.
+
+"Ah, quit it!" says I. "This is no camp meetin'."
+
+There's no shuttin' him off, though, and all the let-up he takes is to
+break off now and then to get Jarvis to tell him once more that it's all
+true.
+
+"You make _certainement_, eh?" says he. "Nobody was keel?"
+
+"Not a soul," says Jarvis. "I didn't even hear of anyone that was made
+ill."
+
+"Ah, _merci, merci_!" howls Heiney, beginnin' the rockin' horse act
+again.
+
+"Say, for the love of Pete, Heiney!" says I, "will you saw that off
+before you draw a crowd? I'm glad you believe Jarvis, and that Jarvis
+believes you; but hanged if I can quite swallow any such dopy yarn as
+that without somethin' more convincin'! All I know about you is that
+you're the worst floor scrubber I ever saw. And you say you was a cook,
+do you?"
+
+"Cook!" says Heiney, swellin' up his chest. "I am tell you zat I was ze
+premier chef. I have made for myself fame. Everywhere in _l'Europe_ zey
+will tell you of me. For the king of ze Englise I have made a dinner.
+_Moi!_ I have invent ze sauce Ravignon. From nozzing at all--some meat
+scraps, some leetle greens--I produce ze dish ravishment."
+
+"Yes, I've heard bluffs like that before," says I; "but I never saw one
+made good. Tell you what I'll do, though: In the far corner of the gym,
+there, is what Swifty Joe calls his kitchenet, where he warms up his
+chowder and beans. There's a two-burner gas stove, an old fryin' pan, and
+a coffee pot. Now here's a dollar. You take that out on Sixth-ave. and
+spend it for meat scraps and leetle greens. Then you come back here, and
+while Jarvis and I are takin' a little exercise, if you can hash up
+anything that's fit to eat, I'll believe your whole yarn. Do you make the
+try?"
+
+Does he? Say, you never saw such a tickled Frenchy in your life. Before
+Jarvis and me had got nicely peeled down for our delayed boxin' bout,
+Heiney is back with his bundles, has got the fryin' pan scoured, the gas
+blazin', and is throwin' things together like a juggler doin' a stage
+turn.
+
+He sheds the blue jumper, ties a bath towel around him for an apron,
+makes a hat out of a paper bag, and twists some of that stringy lip
+decoration of his into a pointed mustache. Honest, he didn't look nor act
+any more like the wreck that had dragged the mop in there half an hour
+before than I look like Bill Taft. And by the time we've had our three
+rounds and a rub down, he's standin' doubled up beside a little table
+that he's found, with his arms spread out like he was goin' to take a
+dive.
+
+"_Messieurs_," says he, "eet ees serve."
+
+"Good!" says I. "I'm just about up to tacklin' a hot lunch. What kind of
+a mess have you got here, anyway, Heiney? Any alum in it? Blamed if I
+don't make you put away the whole shootin' match if it ain't good!"
+
+How's that? Well, say, I couldn't name it, or say whether it was a stew,
+fry or an omelet, but for an impromptu sample of fancy grub it was a
+little the tastiest article I ever stacked up against.
+
+"Why!" says Jarvis, smackin' his lips after the third forkful. "It's _ris
+de veau_, isn't it?"
+
+"But yes, monsieur!" says Heiney, his face lightin' up. "Eet ees _ris de
+veau grille, a la financier_."
+
+"And what's that in English?" says I.
+
+"In Englise," says Heiney, shruggin' his shoulders, "eet ees not exist.
+Eet ees Parisienne."
+
+"Bully for Paris, then!" says I. "Whatever it might be if it could be
+naturalized, it touches the spot. I take it all back, Heiney. You're the
+shiftiest chef that ever juggled a fryin' pan. A refill on the riddy-voo,
+seal-voo-plate."
+
+Well, what do you guess! Jarvis engages Heiney on the spot, and an hour
+later they've started for Blenmont, both of 'em actin' like they thought
+this was a good world to live in, after all.
+
+Yesterday me and Sadie accepts a special invite out there to dinner; and
+it was worth goin' out to get. From start to finish it was the finest
+that ever happened. Afterwards Jarvis has Heiney come up from the kitchen
+and show himself while we drinks his good health. And say, in his white
+togs and starched linen cap, he's got the chef on the canned goods ads.
+lookin' like a hash rustler in a beanery.
+
+As for Jarvis, he's got the pink back in his cheeks, and is holdin' his
+chin up once more, and when we left in the mornin' he was out bossin' a
+couple of hundred lab'rers that was takin' that hill in wheelbarrows and
+cartin' it off where it wouldn't interfere with the lake.
+
+"Shorty," says he, "I don't know how you did it, but you've made me a
+sane man again, and I owe you more than----"
+
+"Ah, chuck it!" says I. "It was curin' Heiney that cured you."
+
+"Really?" says he. "Then you are a believer in homeopathic
+psychotherapeutics?"
+
+"Which?" says I. "Say, write that down on my cuff by syllables, will you?
+I want to spring it on Swifty Joe."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+A TRY-OUT FOR TOODLEISM
+
+
+Eh? Yes, maybe I do walk a little stiff jointed; but, say, I'm satisfied
+to be walkin' around at all. If I hadn't had my luck with me the other
+day, I'd be wearin' that left leg in splints and bein' pushed around in a
+wheel chair. As it is, the meat is only a little sore, and a few more
+alcohol rubs will put it in shape.
+
+What was it come so near gettin' me on the disabled list? Toodleism! No,
+I expect you didn't; but let me put you next, son: there's more 'isms and
+'pathys and 'ists floatin' around these days, than any one head can keep
+track of. I don't know much about the lot; but this Toodleism's a punk
+proposition. Besides leavin' me with a game prop, it come near bu'stin'
+up the fam'ly.
+
+Seems like trouble was lookin' for me last week, anyway. First off, I has
+a run of old timers, that panhandles me out of all the loose coin I has
+in my clothes. You know how they'll come in streaks that way, sometimes?
+Why, I was thinkin' of havin' 'em form a line, one while. Then along
+about Thursday one of my back fletchers develops a case of jumps. What's
+a fletcher? Why, a steak grinder, and this one has a ripe spot in it.
+Course, it's me for the nickel plated plush chair, with the footrest and
+runnin' water attached; and after the tooth doctor has explored my jaw
+with a rock drill and a few other cute little tools, he says he'll kill
+the nerve.
+
+"Don't, Doc.!" says I. "That nerve's always been a friend of mine until
+lately. Wouldn't dopin' it do?"
+
+He says it wouldn't, that nothin' less'n capital punishment would reform
+a nerve like that; so I tells him to blaze away. No use goin' into
+details. Guess you've been there.
+
+"Say, Doc.," says I once when he was fittin' a fresh auger into the
+machine, "you ain't mistakin' me for the guilty party, are you?"
+
+"Did I hurt?" says he.
+
+"You don't call that ticklin', do you?" says I.
+
+But he only grins and goes on with the excavation. After he's blasted out
+a hole big enough for a terminal tunnel he jabs in a hunk of cotton
+soaked with sulphuric acid, and then tamps down the concrete.
+
+"There!" says he, handin' me a drug store drink flavored with
+formaldehyde. "In the course of forty-eight hours or so that nerve will
+be as dead as a piece of string. Meantime it may throb at intervals."
+
+That's what it did, too! It dies as hard as a campaign lie. About every
+so often, just when I'm forgettin', it wakes up again, takes a fresh
+hold, and proceeds to give an imitation of a live wire on an alternatin'
+circuit.
+
+"Ahr chee!" says Swifty Joe. "To look at the map of woe you're carryin'
+around, you'd think nobody ever had a bum tusk before."
+
+"Nobody ever had this one before," says I, "and the way I look now ain't
+chronic, like some faces I know of."
+
+"Ahr chee!" says Swifty, which is his way of bringin' in a minority
+report.
+
+The worst of it was, though, I'm billed to show up at Rockywold for a May
+party that Sadie and Mrs. Purdy-Pell was pullin' off, and when I lands
+there Friday afternoon the jaw sensations was still on the job. I'm
+feeling about as cheerful and chatty as a Zoo tiger with ingrowin'
+toenails. So, after I've done the polite handshake, and had a word with
+Sadie on the fly, I digs out my exercise uniform and makes a sneak down
+into their dinky little gym., where there's a first class punchin' bag
+that I picked out for Purdy-Pell myself.
+
+You know, I felt like I wanted to hit something, and hit hard. It wa'n't
+any idle impulse, either. That tooth was jumpin' so I could almost feel
+my heels leave the floor, and I had emotions that it would take more than
+language to express proper. So I peels off for it, down to a sleeveless
+jersey and a pair of flannel pants, and starts in to drum out the devil's
+tattoo on that pigskin bag.
+
+I was so busy relievin' my feelin's that I didn't notice anything float
+in the door; but after awhile I looks up and discovers the audience.
+She's a young female party that I didn't remember havin' seen before at
+any of the Rockywold doin's; but it looks like she's one of the guests,
+all right.
+
+Well, I hadn't been introduced, and I couldn't see what she was buttin'
+into the gym. for, anyway, so I keeps right on punchin' the bag; thinkin'
+that if she was shocked any by my costume she'd either get over it, or
+beat it and have a fit.
+
+She's one of the kind you might expect 'most anything from,--one of these
+long, limp, loppy, droop eyed fluffs, with terracotta hair, and a
+prunes-and-prisms mouth all puckered to say something soulful. She's
+wearin' a whackin' big black feather lid with a long plume trailin' down
+over one ear, a strawb'ry pink dress cut accordin' to Louis Catorz
+designs,--waist band under her armpits, you know,--and nineteen-button
+length gloves. Finish that off with a white hen feather boa, have her
+hands clasped real shy under her chin, and you've got a picture of what I
+sees there in the door. But it was the friendly size-up she was givin'
+me, and no mistake. She must have hung up there three or four minutes
+too, before she quits, without sayin' a word.
+
+At the end of half an hour I was feelin' some better; but when I'd got
+into my tailor made, I didn't have any great enthusiasm for tacklin'
+food.
+
+"Guess I'll appoint this a special fast day for mine," says I to Sadie.
+
+"Why, Shorty!" says she. "Whatever is the matter?" And she has no sooner
+heard about the touchy tusk than she says, "Oh, pooh! Just say there
+isn't any such thing as toothache. Pain, you know, is only a false mental
+photograph, an error of the mind, and----"
+
+"Ah, back up, Sadie!" says I. "Do you dream I don't know whether this
+jump is in my brain or my jaw? This is no halftone; it's the real
+thing."
+
+"Nonsense!" says she. "You come right downstairs and see Dr. Toodle.
+He'll fix it in no time."
+
+Seems this Toodle was the one the party had been arranged for, and Sadie
+has to hunt him up. It didn't take long to trail him down; for pretty
+soon she comes towin' him into the drawin'-room, where I'm camped down on
+a sofa, holdin' on with both hands.
+
+"Dr. Toodle," says she, "I want to present Mr. McCabe."
+
+Now, I don't claim any seventh-son powers; but I only has to take one
+look at Toodle to guess that he's some sort of a phony article. No
+reg'lar pill distributor would wear around that mushy look that he has
+on. He's a good sized, wide shouldered duck, with a thick crop of long
+hair that just clears his coat collar, and one of these smooth, soft,
+sentimental faces the women folks go nutty over,--you know, big nose,
+heavy chin, and sagged mouth corners. His get-up is something between a
+priest's and an actor's,--frock coat, smooth front black vest, and a
+collar buttoned behind. He gurgles out that he's charmed to meet Mr.
+McCabe, and wants to know what's wrong.
+
+"Nothin' but a specked tooth," says I. "But I can stand it."
+
+"My de-e-ear brother," says Toodle, puttin' his fingers together and
+gazin' down at me like a prison chaplain givin' a talk to murderers' row,
+"you are possessed of mental error. Your brain focus has been disturbed,
+and a blurred image has been cast on the sensitive retina of the----"
+
+"Ah, say, Doc.," says I, "cut out the preamble! If you've got a cocaine
+gun in your pocket, dig it up!"
+
+Then he goes off again with another string of gibberish, about pain bein'
+nothin' but thought, and thought bein' something we could steer to suit
+ourselves. I can't give you the patter word for word; but the nub of it
+was that I could knock that toothache out in one round just by thinkin'
+hard. Now wouldn't that peeve you? What?
+
+"All right, Doc.," says I. "I'll try thinkin' I ain't got any ache, if
+you'll sit here and keep me comp'ny by thinkin' you've had your dinner.
+Is it a go?"
+
+Well, it wa'n't. He shrugs his shoulders, and says he's afraid I'm a
+difficult subject, and then he teeters off on his toes. Sadie tells me I
+ought to be ashamed of myself for tryin' to be so fresh.
+
+"He's a very distinguished man," she says. "He's the founder of
+Toodleism. He's written a book about it."
+
+"I thought he looked like a nutty one," says I. "Keep him away from me;
+I'll be all right by mornin'."
+
+The argument might have lasted longer; but just then comes the dinner
+call, and they all goes in where the little necks was waitin' on the
+cracked ice, and I'm left alone to count the jumps and enjoy myself.
+Durin' one of the calm spells I wanders into the lib'ry, picks a funny
+paper off the table, and settles down in a cozy corner to read the jokes.
+I must have been there near an hour, when in drifts the loppy young lady
+in the pink what-d'ye-call-it,--the one I'd made the silent hit with in
+the gym.,--and she makes straight for me.
+
+"Oh, here you are!" says she, like we was old friends. "Do you know, I've
+just heard of your--your trouble."
+
+"Ah, it ain't any killin' matter," says I. "It don't amount to much."
+
+"Of course it doesn't!" says she. "And that is what I came to talk to you
+about. I am Miss Lee,--Violet Lee."
+
+"Ye-e-es?" says I.
+
+"You see," she goes on, "I am Dr. Toodle's secretary and assistant."
+
+"Oh!" says I. "He's in luck, then."
+
+"Now, now!" says she, just like that, givin' me a real giddy tap with her
+fan. "You must be real serious."
+
+"I'm in condition to be all of that," says I. "Are you plannin' to try
+the----"
+
+"I am going to help you to banish the imaginary pains, Mr. McCabe," says
+she. "Now first you must repeat after me the _summum bonum_."
+
+"Eh?" says I.
+
+"It's very simple," says she, floppin' down on the cushions alongside and
+reachin' out for one of my hands. "It begins this way, 'I am a child of
+light and goodness.' Now say that."
+
+Say, how would you duck a proposition of that kind? There was Violet,
+with her big eyes rolled at me real pleadin', and her mouth puckered up
+real cunning, and the soft, clingin' grip on my right paw. Well, I says
+it over.
+
+"That's it!" she purrs. "Now, 'Evil and fear and pain are the creatures
+of darkness.' Go on!"
+
+"Sure thing!" says I. "'Evil and fear and----Ouch!"
+
+Ever feel one of them last gasps that a nerve gives when it goes out of
+business? I thought the top of my head was comin' off. But it didn't, and
+a couple of seconds later I knew the jumpin' was all over; so I
+straightens my face out, and we proceeds with the catechism.
+
+It was a bird, too. I didn't mind doin' it at all with Miss Lee there to
+help; for, in spite of her loppy ways, she's more or less of a candy
+girl. There was a good deal to it, and it all means the same as what
+Toodle was tryin' to hand out; but now that the ache has quit I'm ready
+for any kind of foolishness.
+
+Violet had got to the point where she has snuggled up nice and close,
+with one hand still grippin' mine and the other smoothin' out my jaw
+while she told me again how pain was only a pipe dream,--when I glances
+over her shoulder and sees Sadie floatin' in hangin' to Dr. Toodle's
+arm.
+
+And does Sadie miss the tableau in our corner? Not to any extent! Her
+eyebrows go up, and her mouth comes open. That's the first indication.
+Next her lips shut tight, and her eyes narrow down, and before you could
+count three she's let go of Toodle as if he was a hot potato, and she's
+makin' a bee line for the cozy corner.
+
+"Why!" says Miss Lee, lookin' up and forecastin' the comin' conditions in
+a flash. "Is dinner over? Oh, and there's Dr. Toodle!" and off she trips,
+leavin' the McCabe fam'ly to hold a reunion.
+
+"Well, I never!" says Sadie, givin' me the gimlet gaze. And say, she puts
+plenty of expression into them three words.
+
+"Me either," says I. "Not very often, anyway. But a chance is a chance."
+
+"I hope I didn't intrude?" says she, her eyes snappin'.
+
+"There's no tellin'," says I.
+
+"It was a very touching scene!" says she. "Very!"
+
+"Wa'n't it?" says I. "Nice girl, Violet."
+
+"Violet! Humph!" says she. "There's no accounting for tastes!"
+
+"Just what I was thinkin' when I see you with the timelock clutch on that
+freak doctor's south wing," says I.
+
+"Dr. Toodle," says she, "was explaining to me his wonderful self healing
+theories."
+
+"And dear Violet," says I, "was puttin' me through a course of sprouts in
+the automatic toothache cure."
+
+"Oh, indeed!" says Sadie. "Was patting your cheek part of it?"
+
+"I hope so," says I.
+
+"Huh!" says she. "I suppose it worked?"
+
+"Like a charm," says I. "All that bothers me now is how I can dig up
+another pain."
+
+"You might have your dear Violet see what can be done for that soft spot
+in your head!" she snaps. "Only next time take her off out of sight,
+please."
+
+"Oh, we'll attend to that, all right," says I. "This havin' a green eyed
+wife buttin' in just at the interestin' point is something fierce!" And
+that's where I spread it on too thick.
+
+"Don't be a chump, Shorty!" says Sadie, lettin' loose a sudden giggle and
+mussin' my hair up with both hands. It's a way she has of gettin' out of
+a corner, and she's skipped off before I'm sure whether she's still got a
+grouch, or is only lettin' on.
+
+By that time my appetite has come back; so I holds up the butler and has
+him lay out a solitaire feed. And when I goes back to the crowd again I
+finds Toodle has the center of the stage, with the spotlight full on him.
+All the women are gathered round, listening to his guff like it was sound
+sense. Seems he's organized a new deal on the thought cure stunt, and
+he's workin' it for all it's worth. The men, though, don't appear so
+excited over what he's sayin'.
+
+"Confounded rubbish, I call it!" says Mr. Purdy-Pell.
+
+"You ought to hear it from Violet," says I. "She's the star explainer of
+that combination."
+
+But Violet seems to have faded into the background. We don't see anything
+more of her that evenin', nor she wa'n't in evidence next mornin'. Doc.
+Toodle was, though. He begins by tellin' how he never takes anything but
+hot water and milk on risin'; but that in the middle of the forenoon he
+makes it a point to put away about three fresh laid eggs, raw, in a glass
+of sherry.
+
+"How interesting!" says Mrs. Purdy-Pell. "Then we must drive over to
+Fernbrook Farm, right after breakfast, and get some of their lovely White
+Leghorn eggs."
+
+That was the sort of excursion I was rung into; so the bunch of us piles
+into the wagonette and starts for a fresh supply of hen fruit. When we
+gets to the farm the superintendent invites us to take a tour through the
+incubator houses, and of course they all wants to see the dear little
+chickies and so on. All but me. I stays and chins with the coachman while
+he walks the horses around the driveway.
+
+In about half an hour they comes troopin' back, Toodle in the lead,
+luggin' a paper bag full of warm eggs. He don't wait for the others, but
+pikes for the wagonette and climbs in one of the side seats facin' me. We
+was just turnin' to back up to the block for the ladies, when a yellow
+kyoodle dashes around the corner after a cat. Them skittish horses was
+just waitin' for some such excuse as that, and before Mr. Driver can put
+the curb bit on 'em hard enough they've done a quick pivot, cramped the
+wheels, and turned us over on the soggy grass as neat as anything you
+ever see.
+
+Me bein' on the low side, I strikes the ground first; but before I can
+squirm out, down comes Toodle on top, landin' his one hundred and ninety
+pounds so sudden that it knocks the wind clear out of me. He's turned
+over on the way down, so I've got his shoulder borin' into my chest and
+the heavy part of him on my leg.
+
+Course, the women squeals, and the horses cut up some; but the driver has
+landed on his feet and has them by the head in no time at all, so we
+wa'n't dragged around any. Noticin' that, I lays still and waits for
+Toodle to pry himself loose. But the Doc. don't seem in any hurry to
+move, and the next thing I know I hear him groanin' and mumblin' under
+his breath. Between groans he was tryin' to say over that rigmarole of
+his.
+
+"I am a child of light--Oh, dear me!--of light and goodness!" he was
+pantin' out. "Evil and fear and--Oh, my poor back!--and pain are
+creatures of--Oh my, oh my!--of darkness! Nothing can harm me!"
+
+"Say, something is goin' to harm you mighty sudden," says I, "if you
+don't let me up out of this."
+
+"Oh, my life blood!" he groans. "I can feel my life blood! Oh, oh! I am a
+child of----"
+
+"Ah, slush!" says I. "Get up and shake yourself. Think I'm a bloomin'
+prayer rug that you can squat on all day? Roll over!" and I manages to
+hand him a short arm punch in the ribs that stirs him up enough so I can
+slide out from under. Soon's I get on my feet and can hop around once or
+twice I finds there's no bones stickin' through, and then I turns to have
+a look at him.
+
+And say, I wouldn't have missed that exhibition for twice the shakin' up
+I got! There he is, stretched out on the wet turf, his eyelids
+flutterin', his breath comin' fast, and his two hands huggin' tight
+what's left of that bu'sted paper bag, right up against the front of his
+preacher's vest. And can you guess what's happened to them eggs?
+
+"Oh, my life blood!" he keeps on moanin'. "I can feel it oozing
+through----"
+
+"Ah, you're switched, Toodle!" says I. "Your brain kodak is out of
+register, that's all. It ain't life blood you're losin'; it's only your
+new laid omelet that's leakin' over your vest front."
+
+About then I gets a squint at Sadie and Mrs. Purdy-Pell, and they're
+almost chokin' to death in a funny fit.
+
+Well, say, that was the finish of Toodleism with the Rockywold bunch. The
+Doc. didn't have a scratch nor a bruise on him, and after he'd been
+helped up and scraped off, he was almost as good as new. But his
+conversation works is clogged for good, and he has his chin down on his
+collar. They sends him and Violet down to catch the next train, and Sadie
+and Mrs. Purdy-Pell spends the rest of the day givin' imitations of how
+Toodle hugged up the eggs and grunted that he was a child of light.
+
+"Not that I don't believe there was something in what he said," Sadie
+explains to me afterwards; "only--only----"
+
+"Only he was a false alarm, eh?" says I. "Well, Violet wa'n't that kind,
+anyway."
+
+"Pooh!" says she. "I suppose you'll brag about Violet for the rest of
+your life."
+
+Can you keep 'em guessin' long, when it comes to things of that kind? Not
+if they're like Sadie.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+THE CASE OF THE TISCOTTS
+
+
+What I had on the slate for this part'cular afternoon was a brisk walk up
+Broadway as far as the gasoline district and a little soothin'
+conversation with Mr. Cecil Slattery about the new roadster he's tryin'
+to Paladino me into placin' my order for. I'd just washed up and was in
+the gym. giving my coat a few licks with the whisk broom, when Swifty Joe
+comes tiptoein' in, taps me on the shoulder, and points solemn into the
+front office.
+
+"That's right," says I, "break it to me gentle."
+
+"Get into it quick!" says he, grabbin' the coat.
+
+"Eh?" says I. "Fire, police, or what?"
+
+"S-s-sh!" says he. "Lady to see you."
+
+"What kind," says I, "perfect, or just plain lady? And what's her name?"
+
+"Ahr-r-r chee!" he whispers, hoarse and stagy. "Didn't I tell you it was
+a lady? Get a move on!" and he lifts me into the sleeves and yanks away
+the whisk broom.
+
+"See here, Swifty," says I, "if this is another of them hot air
+demonstrators, or a book agent, there'll be trouble comin' your way in
+bunches! Remember, now!"
+
+Here was once, though, when Swifty hadn't made any mistake. Not that he
+shows such wonderful intelligence in this case. With her wearin' all them
+expensive furs, and the cute little English footman standin' up straight
+in his yellow topped boots over by the door, who wouldn't have known she
+was a real lady?
+
+She's got up all in black, not exactly a mournin' costume, but one of
+these real broadcloth regalias, plain but classy. She's a tall, slim
+party, and from the three-quarters' view I gets against the light I
+should guess she was goin' on thirty or a little past it. All she's armed
+with is a roll of paper, and as I steps in she's drummin' with it on the
+window sill.
+
+Course, we has all kinds driftin' into the studio here, by mistake and
+otherwise, and I gen'rally makes a guess on 'em right; but this one don't
+suggest anything at all. Even that rat faced tiger of hers could have
+told her this wa'n't any French millinery parlor, and she didn't look
+like one who'd get off the trail anyway. So I plays a safety by coughin'
+polite behind my hand and lettin' her make the break. She ain't backward
+about it, either.
+
+"Why, there you are, Professor McCabe!" says she, in that gushy, up and
+down tone, like she was usin' language as some sort of throat gargle.
+"How perfectly dear of you to be here, too!"
+
+"Yes, ain't it?" says I. "I've kind of got into the habit of bein'
+here."
+
+"Really, now!" says she, smilin' just as though we was carryin' on a
+sensible conversation. And it's a swagger stunt too, this talkin' without
+sayin' anything. When you get so you can keep it up for an hour you're
+qualified either for the afternoon tea class or the batty ward. But the
+lady ain't here just to pay a social call. She makes a quick shift and
+announces that she's Miss Colliver, also hoping that I remember her.
+
+"Why, sure," says I. "Miss Ann, ain't it?"
+
+As a matter of fact, the only time we was ever within speakin' distance
+was once at the Purdy-Pells' when she blew in for a minute just at dinner
+time, lifted a bunch of American Beauties off the table with the excuse
+that they was just what she wanted to send to the Blind Asylum, and blew
+out again.
+
+But of course I couldn't help knowin' who she was and all about her.
+Ain't the papers always full of her charity doin's, her funds for this
+and that, and her new discoveries of shockin' things about the poor?
+Ain't she built up a rep as a lady philanthropist that's too busy doing
+good to ever get married? Maybe Mrs. Russell Sage and Helen Gould has
+gained a few laps on her lately; but when it comes to startin' things for
+the Tattered Tenth there ain't many others that's got much on her.
+
+"Gee!" thinks I. "Wonder what she's going to do for me?"
+
+I ain't left long in doubt. She backs me up against the desk and cuts
+loose with the straight talk. "I came in to tell you about my new
+enterprise, Piny Crest Court," says she.
+
+"Apartment house, is it?" says I.
+
+"No, no!" says she. "Haven't you read about it? It's to be a white plague
+station for working girls."
+
+"A white--white----Oh! For lungers, eh?"
+
+"We never speak of them in that way, you know," says she, handin' me the
+reprovin' look. "Piny Crest Court is the name I've given to the site.
+Rather sweet, is it not? Really there are no pines on it, you know; but I
+shall have a few set out. The buildings are to be perfectly lovely. I've
+just seen the architect's plans,--four open front cottages grouped around
+an administration infirmary, the superintendent's office to be finished
+in white mahogany and gold, and the directors' room in Circassian walnut,
+with a stucco frieze after della Robbia. Don't you simply love those
+Robbia bambinos?"
+
+"Great!" says I, lyin' as easy and genteel as if I had lots of practice.
+
+"I am simply crazy to have the work started," she goes on; "so I am
+spending three afternoons a week in filling up my lists. Everyone
+responds so heartily, too. Now, let me see, I believe I have put you down
+for a life membership."
+
+"Eh?" says I, gaspin' some; for it ain't often I'm elected to things.
+
+"You will have the privilege of voting for board members and of
+recommending two applicants a year. A life membership is two hundred and
+fifty dollars."
+
+"You mean I get two-fifty," says I, "for--for just----"
+
+Then I came to. And, say, did you ever know such a bonehead? Honest,
+though, from all I'd heard of the way she spreads her money around, and
+the patronizin' style she has of puttin' this proposition up to me, I
+couldn't tell for a minute how she meant it. And when I suddenly
+surrounds the idea that it's me gives up the two-fifty, I'm so fussed
+that I drops back into the chair and begins to hunt through the desk for
+my checkbook. And then I feels myself growin' a little warm behind the
+ears.
+
+"So you just put me down offhand for two hundred and fifty, did you?"
+says I.
+
+"If you wish," says she, "you may take out a life certificate for each
+member of your family. Several have done that. Let me show you my list of
+subscribers. See, here are some of the prominent merchants and
+manufacturing firms. I haven't begun on the brokers and bankers yet; but
+you will be in good company."
+
+"Ye-e-es?" says I, runnin' my eye over the firm names. "But I don't know
+much about this scheme of yours, Miss Colliver."
+
+"Why, it is for working girls," says she, "who are victims of the white
+plague. We take them up to Piny Crest and cure them."
+
+"Of working?" says I.
+
+"Of the plague," says she. "It is going to be the grandest thing I've
+done yet. And I have the names of such a lot of the most interesting
+cases; poor creatures, you know, who are suffering in the most wretched
+quarters. I do hope they will last until the station is finished. It
+means finding a new lot, if they don't, and the public organizations are
+becoming so active in that sort of thing, don't you see?"
+
+Somehow, I don't catch it all, she puts over her ideas so fast; but I
+gather that she'd like to have me come up prompt with my little old
+two-fifty so she can get busy givin' out the contracts. Seein' me still
+hangin' back, though, she's willin' to spend a few minutes more in
+describin' some of the worst cases, which she proceeds to do.
+
+"We estimate," says Miss Ann as a final clincher, "that the average cost
+is about fifty dollars per patient. Now," and she sticks the subscription
+list into my fist, "here is an opportunity! Do you wish to save five
+human lives?"
+
+Ever had it thrown into you like that? The sensation is a good deal like
+bein' tied to a post and havin' your pockets frisked by a holdup gang.
+Anyway, that's the way I felt, and then the next minute I'm ashamed of
+havin' any such feelings at all; for there's no denyin' that dozens of
+cases like she mentions can be dug up in any crowded block. Seems kind of
+inhuman, too, not to want chip in and help save 'em. And yet there I was
+gettin' grouchy over it, without knowin' why!
+
+"Well," says I, squirmin' in the chair, "I'd like to save five hundred,
+if I could. How many do you say you're going to take care of up at this
+new place?"
+
+"Sixty," says she. "I select the most pitiful cases. I am taking some
+things to one of them now. I wish you could see the awful misery in that
+home! I could take you down there, you know, and show you what a squalid
+existence they lead, these Tiscotts."
+
+"Tiscotts!" says I, prickin' up my ears. "What Tiscotts? What's his first
+name?"
+
+"I never heard the husband mentioned," says Miss Ann. "I doubt if there
+is one. The woman's name, I think, is Mrs. Anthony Tiscott. Of course,
+unless you are really interested----"
+
+"I am," says I. "I'm ready to go when you are."
+
+That seems to jar Miss Colliver some, and she tries a little shifty
+sidestepping; but I puts it up to her as flat as she had handed it to me
+about savin' the five lives. It was either make good or welsh, and she
+comes to the scratch cheerful.
+
+"Very well, then," says she, "we will drive down there at once."
+
+So it's me into the Victoria alongside of Miss Ann, with the fat coachman
+pilotin' us down Fifth-ave. to 14th, then across to Third-ave., and again
+down and over to the far East Side.
+
+I forget the exact block; but it's one of the old style double-deckers,
+with rusty fire escapes decorated with beddin' hung out to air, dark
+hallways that has a perfume a garbage cart would be ashamed of, rickety
+stairs, plasterin' all gone off the halls, and other usual signs of real
+estate that the agents squeeze fifteen per cent. out of. You know how
+it's done, by fixin' the Buildin' and Board of Health inspectors, jammin'
+from six to ten fam'lies in on a floor, never makin' any repairs, and
+collectin' weekly rents or servin' dispossess notices prompt when they
+don't pay up.
+
+Lovely place to hang up one of the "Home, Sweet Home" mottoes! There's a
+water tap in every hall, so all the tenants can have as much as they
+want, stove holes in most of the rooms, and you buy your coal by the
+bucket at the rate of about fourteen dollars a ton. Only three a week for
+a room, twelve dollars a month. Course, that's more per room than you'd
+pay on the upper West Side with steam heat, elevator service, and a
+Tennessee marble entrance hall thrown in; but the luxury of stowin' a
+whole fam'ly into one room comes high. Or maybe the landlords are doin'
+it to discourage poverty.
+
+"This is where the Tiscotts hang out, is it?" says I. "Shall I lug the
+basket for you, Miss Colliver?"
+
+"Dear no!" says she. "I never go into such places. I always send the
+things in by Hutchins. He will bring Mrs. Tiscott down and she will tell
+us about her troubles."
+
+"Let Hutchins sit on the box this time," says I, grabbin' up the basket.
+"Besides, I don't want any second hand report."
+
+"But surely," puts in Miss Ann, "you are not going into such a----"
+
+"Why not?" says I. "I begun livin' in one just like it."
+
+At that Miss Ann settles back under the robe, shrugs her shoulders into
+her furs, and waves for me to go ahead.
+
+Half a dozen kids on the doorstep told me in chorus where I'd find the
+Tiscotts, and after I've climbed up through four layers of stale cabbage
+and fried onion smells and felt my way along to the third door left from
+the top of the stairs, I makes my entrance as the special messenger of
+the ministerin' angel.
+
+It's the usual fam'ly-room tenement scene, such as the slum writers are
+so fond of describin' with the agony pedal down hard, only there ain't
+quite so much dirt and rags in evidence as they'd like. There's plenty,
+though. Also there's a lot of industry on view. Over by the light shaft
+window is Mrs. Tiscott, pumpin' a sewin' machine like she was entered in
+a twenty-four-hour endurance race, with a big bundle of raw materials at
+one side. In front of her is the oldest girl, sewin' buttons onto white
+goods; while the three younger kids, includin' the four-year-old boy, are
+spread out around the table in the middle of the room, pickin' nut meat
+into the dishpan.
+
+What's the use of tellin' how Mrs. Tiscott's stringy hair was bobbed up,
+or the kind of wrapper she had on? You wouldn't expect her to be sportin'
+a Sixth-ave. built pompadour, or a lingerie reception gown, would you?
+And where they don't have Swedish nursery governesses and porcelain tubs,
+the youngsters are apt not to be so----But maybe you'll relish your nut
+candy and walnut cake better if we skip some details about the state of
+the kids' hands. What's the odds where the contractors gets such work
+done, so long as they can shave their estimates?
+
+The really int'restin' exhibit in this fam'ly group, of course, is the
+bent shouldered, peaked faced girl who has humped herself almost double
+and is slappin' little pearl buttons on white goods at the rate of twenty
+a minute. And there's no deception about her being a fine case for Piny
+Crest. You don't even have to hear that bark of hers to know it.
+
+I stands there lookin' 'em over for a whole minute before anybody pays
+any attention to me. Then Mrs. Tiscott glances up and stops her machine.
+
+"Who's that?" she sings out. "What do you----Why! Well, of all things,
+Shorty McCabe, what brings you here?"
+
+"I'm playin' errand boy for the kind Miss Colliver," says I, holdin' up
+the basket.
+
+Is there a grand rush my way, and glad cries, and tears of joy? Nothing
+doing in the thankful hysterics line.
+
+"Oh!" says Mrs. Tiscott. "Well, let's see what it is this time." And she
+proceeds to dump out Miss Ann's contribution. There's a glass of
+gooseb'ry bar le duc, another of guava jelly, a little can of pate de
+foie gras, and half a dozen lady fingers.
+
+"Huh!" says she, shovin' the truck over on the window sill. As she's
+expressed my sentiments too, I lets it go at that.
+
+"Looks like one of your busy days," says I.
+
+"One of 'em!" says she with a snort, yankin' some more pieces out of the
+bundle and slippin' a fresh spool of cotton onto the machine.
+
+"What's the job?" says I.
+
+"Baby dresses," says she.
+
+"Good money in it?" says I.
+
+"Oh, sure!" says she. "Forty cents a dozen is good, ain't it?"
+
+"What noble merchant prince is so generous to you as all that?" says I.
+
+Mrs. Tiscott, she shoves over the sweater's shop tag so I can read for
+myself. Curious,--wa'n't it?--but it's the same firm whose name heads the
+Piny Crest subscription list. It's time to change the subject.
+
+"How's Annie?" says I, lookin' over at her.
+
+"Her cough don't seem to get any better," says Mrs. Tiscott. "She's had
+it since she had to quit work in the gas mantle shop. That's where she
+got it. The dust, you know."
+
+Yes, I knew. "How about Tony?" says I.
+
+"Tony!" says she, hard and bitter. "How do I know? He ain't been near us
+for a month past."
+
+"Sends in something of a Saturday, don't he?" says I.
+
+"Would I be lettin' the likes of her--that Miss Colliver--come here if he
+did," says she, "or workin' my eyes out like this?"
+
+"I thought Lizzie was in a store?" says I, noddin' towards the
+twelve-year-old girl at the nut pickin' table.
+
+"They always lays off half the bundle girls after Christmas," says Mrs.
+Tiscott. "That's why we don't see Tony regular every payday any more. He
+had the nerve to claim most of Lizzie's envelope."
+
+Then it was my turn to say "Huh!"
+
+"Why don't you have him up?" says I.
+
+"I'm a-scared," says she. "He's promised to break my head."
+
+"Think he would?" says I.
+
+"Yes," says she. "He's changed for the worse lately. He'd do it, all
+right, if I took him to court."
+
+"What if I stood ready to break his, eh?" says I. "Would that hold him?"
+
+Say, it wa'n't an elevatin' or cheerful conversation me and Mrs. Tiscott
+indulged in; but it was more or less to the point. She's some int'rested
+in the last proposition of mine, and when I adds a few frills about
+givin' a butcher's order and standin' for a sack of potatoes, she agrees
+to swear out the summons for Tony, providin' I'll hand it to him and be
+in court to scare the liver out of him when she talks to the Justice.
+
+"I hate to do it too," says she.
+
+"I know," says I; "but no meat or potatoes from me unless you do!"
+
+Sounds kind of harsh, don't it? You'd think I had a special grudge
+against Tony Tiscott too. But say, it's only because I know him and his
+kind so well. Nothing so peculiar about his case. Lots of them swell
+coachmen go that way, and in his day Tony has driven for some big people.
+Him and me got acquainted when he was wearin' the Twombley-Crane livery
+and drawin' down his sixty-five a month. That wa'n't so long ago,
+either.
+
+But it's hard waitin' hours on the box in cold weather, and they get to
+boozin'. When they hit it up too free they lose their places. After
+they've lost too many places they don't get any more. Meantime they've
+accumulated rheumatism and a fam'ly of kids. They've got lazy habits too,
+and new jobs don't come easy at forty. The next degree is loafin' around
+home permanent; but they ain't apt to find that so pleasant unless the
+wife is a good hustler. Most likely she rows it. So they chuck the fam'ly
+and drift off by themselves.
+
+That's the sort of chaps you'll find on the bread lines. But Tony hadn't
+quite got to that yet. I knew the corner beer joint where he did odd jobs
+as free lunch carver and window cleaner. Also I knew the line of talk I
+meant to hand out to him when I got my fingers on his collar.
+
+"Well?" says Miss Ann, when I comes back with the empty basket. "Did you
+find it an interesting case?"
+
+"Maybe that's the word," says I.
+
+"You saw the young woman, did you?" says she, "the one who----"
+
+"Sure," says I. "She's got it--bad."
+
+"Ah!" says Miss Ann, brightenin' up. "And now about that life
+membership!"
+
+"Well," says I, "the Piny Crest proposition is all right, and I'd like to
+see it started; but the fact is, Miss Colliver, if I should put my name
+down with all them big people I'd be runnin' out of my class."
+
+"You would be--er----Beg pardon," says she, "but I don't think I quite
+get you?"
+
+I'd suspected she wouldn't. But how was I going to dope out to her clear
+and straight what's so muddled up in my own head? You know, all about how
+Annie got her cough, and my feelin's towards the firms that's sweatin'
+the Tiscotts, from the baby up, and a lot of other things that I can't
+state.
+
+"As I said," goes on Miss Colliver, "I hardly think I understand."
+
+"Me either," says I. "My head's just a merry go round of whys and
+whatfors. But, as far as that fund of yours goes, I don't come in."
+
+"Humph!" says she. "That, at least, is quite definite. Home, Hutchins!"
+
+And there I am left on the curb lookin' foolish. Me, I don't ride back to
+the studio on any broadcloth cushions! Serves me right too, I expect. I
+feels mean and low down all the rest of the day, until I gets some
+satisfaction by huntin' up Tony and throwin' such a scare into him that
+he goes out and finds a porter's job and swears by all that's holy he'll
+take up with the fam'ly again.
+
+But think of the chance I passed up of breakin' into the high toned
+philanthropy class!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+CLASSING TUTWATER RIGHT
+
+
+Maybe that brass plate had been up in the lower hall of our buildin' a
+month or so before I takes any partic'lar notice of it. Even when I did
+get my eye on it one mornin' it only gets me mildly curious. "Tutwater,
+Director of Enterprises, Room 37, Fourth Floor," is all it says on it.
+
+"Huh!" thinks I. "That's goin' some for a nine by ten coop under the
+skylight."
+
+And with that I should have let it drop, I expect. But what's the use?
+Where's the fun of livin', if you can't mix in now and then. And you know
+how I am.
+
+Well, I comes pikin' up the stairs one day not long after discoverin' the
+sign, and here on my landin', right in front of the studio door, I finds
+this Greek that runs the towel supply wagon usin' up his entire United
+States vocabulary on a strange gent that he's backed into a corner.
+
+"Easy, there, easy, Mr. Poulykopolis!" says I. "This ain't any golf
+links, where you can smoke up the atmosphere with language like that.
+What's the row, anyway?"
+
+"No pay for five week; always nex' time, he tells, nex' time. Gr-r-r-r! I
+am strong to slap his life out, me!" says Pouly, thumpin' his chest and
+shakin' his black curls. They sure are fierce actin' citizens when
+they're excited, these Marathoners.
+
+"Yes, you would!" says I. "Slap his life out? G'wan! If he handed you one
+jolt you wouldn't stop runnin' for a week. How big is this national debt
+you say he owes you! How much?"
+
+"Five week!" says Pouly. "One dollar twenty-five."
+
+"Sufferin' Shylocks! All of that? Well, neighbor," says I to the strange
+gent, "has he stated it correct?"
+
+"Perfectly, sir, perfectly," says the party of the second part. "I do not
+deny the indebtedness in the least. I was merely trying to explain to
+this agent of cleanliness that, having been unable to get to the bank
+this morning, I should be obliged to----"
+
+"Why, of course," says I. "And in that case allow me to stake you to the
+price of peace. Here you are, Pouly. Now go out in the sun and cool
+off."
+
+"My dear sir," says the stranger, followin' me into the front office,
+"permit me to----"
+
+"Ah, never mind the resolutions!" says I, "It was worth riskin' that much
+for the sake of stoppin' the riot. Yes, I know you'll pay it back. Let's
+see, which is your floor?"
+
+"Top, sir," says he, "room 37."
+
+"Oh ho!" says I. "Then you're the enterprise director, Tutwater?"
+
+"And your very humble servant, sir," says he, bringin' his yellow Panama
+lid off with a full arm sweep, and throwin' one leg graceful over the
+back of a chair.
+
+At that I takes a closer look at him, and before I've got half through
+the inspection I've waved a sad farewell to that one twenty-five. From
+the frayed necktie down to the runover shoes, Tutwater is a walkin'
+example of the poor debtor's oath. The shiny seams of the black frock
+coat shouts of home pressin', and the limp way his white vest fits him
+suggests that he does his own laundry work in the washbowl. But he's
+clean shaved and clean brushed, and you can guess he's seen the time when
+he had such things done for him in style.
+
+Yet there ain't anything about the way Tutwater carries himself that
+signifies he's down and out. Not much! He's got the easy, confident swing
+to his shoulders that you might expect from a sport who'd just picked
+three winners runnin'.
+
+Rather a tall, fairly well built gent he is, with a good chest on him,
+and he has one of these eager, earnest faces that shows he's alive all
+the time. You wouldn't call him a handsome man, though, on account of the
+deep furrows down each side of his cheeks and the prominent jut to his
+eyebrows; but, somehow, when he gets to talkin', them eyes of his lights
+up so you forget the rest of his features.
+
+You've seen chaps like that. Gen'rally they're cranks of some kind or
+other, and when they ain't they're topliners. So I puts Tutwater down as
+belongin' to the crank class, and it wa'n't long before he begun livin'
+up to the description.
+
+"Director of enterprises, eh?" says I. "That's a new one on me."
+
+"Naturally," says he, wavin' his hand, "considering that I am first in
+the field. It is a profession I am creating."
+
+"So?" says I. "Well, how are you comin' on?"
+
+"Excellently, sir, excellently," says he. "I have found, for the first
+time in my somewhat varied career, full scope for what I am pleased to
+call my talents. Of course, the work of preparing the ground is a slow
+process, and the--er--ahem--the results have not as yet begun to
+materialize; but when Opportunity comes my way, sir----Aha! Ha, ha! Ho,
+ho! Well, then we shall see if Tutwater is not ready for her!"
+
+"I see," says I. "You with your hand on the knob, eh? It's an easy way of
+passin' the time too; that is, providin' such things as visits from the
+landlord and the towel collector don't worry you."
+
+"Not at all," says he. "Merely petty annoyances, thorns and pebbles in
+the pathways that lead to each high emprise."
+
+Say, it was almost like hearin' some one read po'try, listenin' to
+Tutwater talk; didn't mean much of anything, and sounded kind of good. At
+the end of half an hour I didn't know any more about his game than at the
+beginning. I gathered, though, that up to date it hadn't produced any
+ready cash, and that Tutwater had been on his uppers for some time.
+
+He was no grafter, though. That dollar twenty-five weighed heavier on his
+mind than it did on mine. He'd come in and talk about not bein' able to
+pay it back real regretful, without even hintin' at another touch. And
+little by little I got more light on Tutwater, includin' some details of
+what he called his career.
+
+There was a lot to it, so far as variety went. He'd been a hist'ry
+professor in some one-horse Western college, had tried his luck once up
+at Nome, had canvassed for a patent dishwasher through Michigan, done a
+ballyhoo trick outside a travelin' tent show, and had given bump lectures
+on the schoolhouse circuit.
+
+But his prize stunt was when he broke into the real estate business and
+laid out Eucalyptus City. That was out in Iowa somewhere, and he'd have
+cleaned up a cool million in money if the blamed trolley company hadn't
+built their line seven miles off in the other direction.
+
+It was gettin' this raw deal that convinces him the seed district wa'n't
+any place for a gent of his abilities. So he sold out his options on the
+site of Eucalyptus to a brick makin' concern, and beat it for 42d-st.
+with a capital of eighty-nine dollars cash and this great director scheme
+in his head. The brass plate had cost him four dollars and fifty cents,
+one month's rent of the upstairs coop had set him back thirty more, and
+he'd been livin' on the rest.
+
+"But look here, Tutty," says I, "just what sort of enterprise do you
+think you can direct?"
+
+"Any sort," says he, "anything, from running an international exposition,
+to putting an icecream parlor on a paying basis."
+
+"Don't you find your modesty something of a handicap?" says I.
+
+"Oh, I'm modest enough," he goes on. "For instance, I don't claim to
+invent new methods. I just adapt, pick out lines of proved success, and
+develop. Now, your business here--why, I could take hold of it, and in
+six months' time I'd have you occupying this entire building, with
+classes on every floor, a solarium on the roof, a corps of assistants
+working day and night shifts, and----"
+
+"Yes," I breaks in, "and then the Sheriff tackin' a foreclosure notice on
+the front door. I know how them boom methods work out, Tutty."
+
+But talk like that don't discourage Tutwater at all. He hangs onto his
+great scheme, keepin' his eyes and ears open, writin' letters when he can
+scare up money for postage, and insistin' that sooner or later he'll get
+his chance.
+
+"Here is the place for such chances to occur," says he, "and I know what
+I can do."
+
+"All right," says I; "but if I was you I'd trail down some pavin' job
+before the paper inner soles wore clean through."
+
+Course, how soon he hit the bread line wa'n't any funeral of mine
+exactly, and he was a hopeless case anyway; but somehow I got to likin'
+Tutwater more or less, and wishin' there was some plan of applyin' all
+that hot air of his in useful ways. I know of lots of stiffs with not
+half his brains that makes enough to ride around in taxis and order
+custom made shirts. He was gettin' seedier every week, though, and I had
+it straight from the agent that it was only a question of a few days
+before that brass plate would have to come down.
+
+And then, one noon as we was chinnin' here in the front office, in blows
+a portly, red faced, stary eyed old party who seems kind of dazed and
+uncertain as to where he's goin'. He looks first at Tutwater, and then at
+me.
+
+"Same to you and many of 'em," says I. "What'll it be?"
+
+"McCabe was the name," says he; "Professor McCabe, I think. I had it
+written down somewhere; but----"
+
+"Never mind," says I. "This is the shop and I'm the right party. What
+then?"
+
+"Perhaps you don't know me?" says he, explorin' his vest pockets sort of
+aimless with his fingers.
+
+"That's another good guess," says I; "but there's lots of time ahead of
+us."
+
+"I--I am--well, never mind the name," says he, brushin' one hand over his
+eyes. "I--I've mislaid it."
+
+"Eh?" says I.
+
+"It's no matter," says he, beginnin' to ramble on again. "But I own a
+great deal of property in the city, and my head has been troubling me
+lately, and I heard you could help me. I'll pay you well, you know.
+I--I'll give you the Brooklyn Bridge."
+
+"Wha-a-at's that?" I gasps. "Say, couldn't you make it Madison Square
+Garden? I could get rent out of that."
+
+"Well, if you prefer," says he, without crackin' a smile.
+
+"And this is Mr. Tutwater," says I. "He ought to be in on this. What'll
+yours be, Tutty?"
+
+Say, for a minute or so I couldn't make out whether the old party was
+really off his chump or what. He's a well dressed, prosperous lookin'
+gent, a good deal on the retired broker type, and I didn't know but he
+might be some friend of Pyramid Gordon's who'd strayed in here to hand me
+a josh before signin' on for a course of lessons.
+
+Next thing we knew, though, he slumps down in my desk chair, leans back
+comf'table, sighs sort of contented, smiles a batty, foolish smile at us,
+and then closes his eyes. Another second and he's snorin' away as
+peaceful as you please.
+
+"Well, say!" says I to Tutwater. "What do you think of that, now? Does he
+take this for a free lodgin' house, or Central Park? Looks like it was up
+to me to ring for the wagon."
+
+"Don't," says Tutwater. "The police handle these cases so stupidly. His
+mind has been affected, possibly from some shock, and he is physically
+exhausted."
+
+"He's all in, sure enough," says I; "but I can't have him sawin' wood
+here. Come, come, old scout," I hollers in his ear, "you'll have to camp
+somewhere else for this act!" I might as well have shouted into the safe,
+though. He never stirs.
+
+"The thing to do," says Tutwater, "is to discover his name, if we can,
+and then communicate with his friends or family."
+
+"Maybe you're right, Tutwater," says I. "And there's a bunch of letters
+in his inside pocket. Have a look."
+
+"They all seem to be addressed to J. T. Fargo, Esq.," says Tutwater.
+
+"What!" says I. "Say, you don't suppose our sleepin' friend here is old
+Jerry Fargo, do you? Look at the tailor's label inside the pocket. Eh?
+Jeremiah T. Fargo! Well, say, Tutty, that wa'n't such an idle dream of
+his, about givin' me the garden. Guess he could if he wanted to. Why,
+this old party owns more business blocks in this town than anybody I know
+of except the Astors. And I was for havin' him carted off to the station!
+Lemme see that 'phone directory."
+
+A minute more and I had the Fargo house on the wire.
+
+"Who are you?" says I. "Oh, Mr. Fargo's butler. Well, this is Shorty
+McCabe, and I want to talk to some of the fam'ly about the old man. Sure,
+old Jerry. He's here. Eh, his sister? She'll do. Yes, I'll hold the
+wire."
+
+I'd heard of that old maid sister of his, and how she was a queer old
+girl; but I didn't have any idea what a cold blooded proposition she was.
+Honest, she seemed put out and pettish because I'd called her up.
+
+"Jeremiah again, hey?" she squeaks. "Now, why on earth don't he stay in
+that sanatorium where I took him? This is the fourth time he's gone
+wandering off, and I've been sent for to hunt him up. You just tell him
+to trot back to it, that's all."
+
+"But see here, Miss Fargo," says I, "he's been trottin' around until you
+can't tell him anything! He's snoozin' away here in my office, dead to
+the world."
+
+"Well, I can't help it," says she. "I'm not going to be bothered with
+Jeremiah to-day. I've got two sick cats to attend to."
+
+"Cats!" says I. "Say, what do you----"
+
+"Oh, hush up!" says she. "Do anything you like with him!" And hanged if
+she don't bang up the receiver at that, and leave me standin' there at my
+end of the wire lookin' silly.
+
+"Talk about your freak plutes," says I to Tutwater, after I've explained
+the situation, "if this ain't the limit! Look what I've got on my hands
+now!"
+
+Tutwater, he's standin' there gazin' hard at old Jerry Fargo, his eyes
+shinin' and his thought works goin' at high pressure speed. All of a
+sudden he slaps me on the back and grips me by the hand. "Professor,"
+says he, "I have it! There is Opportunity!"
+
+"Eh?" says I. "Old Jerry? How?"
+
+"I shall cure him--restore his mind, make him normal," says Tutwater.
+
+"What do you know about brushin' out batty lofts?" says I.
+
+"Nothing at all," says he; "but I can find someone who does. You'll give
+me Fargo, won't you?"
+
+"Will I?" says I. "I'll advance you twenty to take him away, and charge
+it up to him. But what'll you do with him?"
+
+"Start the Tutwater Sanatorium for Deranged Millionaires," says he.
+"There's a fortune in it. May I leave him here for an hour or so?"
+
+"What for?" says I.
+
+"Until I can engage my chief of staff," says he.
+
+"Say, Tutty," says I, "do you really mean to put over a bluff the size of
+that?"
+
+"I've thought it all out," says he. "I can do it."
+
+"All right, blaze ahead," says I; "but I'm bettin' you land in the lockup
+inside of twenty-four hours."
+
+What do you think, though? By three o'clock he comes back, towin' a
+spruce, keen eyed young chap that he introduces as Dr. McWade. He's
+picked him up over at Bellevue, where he found him doin' practice work in
+the psychopathic ward. On the strength of that I doubles my grubstake,
+and he no sooner gets his hands on the two sawbucks than he starts for
+the street.
+
+"Here, here!" says I. "Where you headed for now?"
+
+And Tutwater explains how his first investment is to be a new silk lid,
+some patent leather shoes, and a silver headed walkin' stick.
+
+"Good business!" says I. "You'll need all the front you can carry."
+
+And while he's out shoppin' the Doc and me and Swifty Joe lugs the
+patient up to Tutwater's office without disturbin' his slumbers at all.
+
+Well, I didn't see much more of Tutwater that day, for from then on he
+was a mighty busy man; but as I was drillin' across to the Grand Central
+on my way home I gets a glimpse of him, sportin' a shiny hat and white
+spats, just rushin' important into a swell real estate office. About noon
+next day he stops in long enough to shake hands and say that it's all
+settled.
+
+"Tutwater Sanatorium is a fact," says he. "I have the lease in my
+pocket."
+
+"What is it, some abandoned farm up in Vermont?" says I.
+
+"Hardly," says Tutwater, smilin' quiet.
+
+"It's Cragswoods; beautiful modern buildings, formerly occupied as a
+boys' boarding school, fifteen acres of lovely grounds, finest location
+in Westchester County. We take possession to-day, with our patient."
+
+"But, say, Tutwater," says I, "how in blazes did you----"
+
+"I produced Fargo," says he. "Dr. McWade has him under complete control
+and his cure has already begun. It will be finished at Cragswoods. Run up
+and see us soon. There's the address. So long."
+
+Well, even after that, I couldn't believe he'd really pull it off.
+Course, I knew he could make Fargo's name go a long ways if he used it
+judicious; but to launch out and hire an estate worth half a million--why
+he was makin' a shoestring start look like a sure thing.
+
+And I was still listenin' for news of the grand crash, when I begun
+seein' these items in the papers about the Tutwater Sanatorium.
+"Millionaires Building a Stone Wall," one was headed, and it went on to
+tell how five New York plutes, all sufferin' from some nerve breakdown,
+was gettin' back health and clearin' up their brains by workin' like day
+laborers under the direction of the famous specialist, Dr. Clinton
+McWade.
+
+"Aha!" says I. "He's added a press agent to the staff, and he sure has
+got a bird!"
+
+Every few days there's a new story bobs up, better than the last, until I
+can't stand it any longer. I takes half a day off and goes up there to
+see if he's actually doin' it. And, say, when I walks into the main
+office over the Persian rug, there's the same old Tutwater. Course, he's
+slicked up some fancy, and he's smokin' a good cigar; but you couldn't
+improve any on the cheerful countenance he used to carry around, even
+when he was up against it hardest. What I asks to see first is the five
+millionaires at work.
+
+"Seven, you mean," says Tutwater. "Two more came yesterday. Step right
+out this way. There they are, seven; count 'em, seven. The eighth man is
+a practical stone mason who is bossing the job. It's a good stone wall
+they're building, too. We expect to run it along our entire frontage."
+
+"Got 'em mesmerized?" says I.
+
+"Not at all," says Tutwater. "It's part of the treatment. McWade's idea,
+you know. The vocational cure, we call it, and it works like a charm. Mr.
+Fargo is practically a well man now and could return to his home next
+week if he wished. As it is, he's so much interested in finishing that
+first section of the wall that he will probably stay the month out. You
+can see for yourself what they are doing."
+
+"Well, well!" says I. "Seven of 'em! What I don't understand, Tutwater,
+is how you got so many patients so soon. Where'd you get hold of 'em?"
+
+"To be quite frank with you, McCabe," says Tutwater, whisperin'
+confidential in my ear, "only three of them are genuine paying patients.
+That is why I have to charge them fifty dollars a day, you see."
+
+"And the others?" says I.
+
+"First class imitations, who are playing their parts very cleverly," says
+he. "Why not? I engaged them through a reliable theatrical agency."
+
+"Eh?" says I. "You salted the sanatorium? Tutwater, I take it all back.
+You're in the other class, and I'm backin' you after this for whatever
+entry you want to make."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+HOW HERMY PUT IT OVER
+
+
+What do you know about luck, eh? Say, there was a time when I banked
+heavy on such things as four-leaf clovers, and the humpback touch, and
+dodgin' ladders, and keepin' my fingers crossed after gettin' an X-ray
+stare. The longer I watch the game, though, the less I think of the luck
+proposition as a chart for explainin' why some gets in on the ground
+floor, while others are dropped through the coal chute.
+
+Now look at the latest returns on the career of my old grammar school
+chum, Snick Butters. Maybe you don't remember my mentionin' him before.
+Yes? No? It don't matter. He's the sporty young gent that's mortgaged his
+memorial window to me so many times,--you know, the phony lamp he can do
+such stunts with.
+
+He's a smooth boy, Snick is,--too smooth, I used to tell him,--and always
+full of schemes for avoidin' real work. For a year or so past he's held
+the hot air chair on the front end of one of these sightseein' chariots,
+cheerin' the out of town buyers and wheat belt tourists with the flippest
+line of skyscraper statistics handed out through any megaphone in town.
+They tell me that when Snick would fix his fake eye on the sidewalk, and
+roll the good one up at the Metropolitan tower, he'd have his passengers
+so dizzy they'd grab one another to keep from fallin' off the wagon.
+
+Yes, I always did find Snick's comp'ny entertainin', and if it hadn't
+been more or less expensive,--a visit always meanin' a touch with him,--I
+expect I'd been better posted on what he was up to. As it is, I ain't
+enjoyed the luxury of seein' Snick for a good many months; when here the
+other afternoon, just as I was thinking of startin' for home, the studio
+door opens, and in blows a couple of gents, one being a stranger, and the
+other this Mr. Butters.
+
+Now, usually Snick's a fancy dresser, no matter who he owes for it. He'll
+quit eatin' any time, or do the camel act, or even give up his
+cigarettes; but if the gents' furnishing shops are showin' something new
+in the line of violet socks or alligator skin vests, Snick's got to sport
+the first ones sprung on Broadway.
+
+So, seein' him show up with fringes on his cuffs, a pair of runover tan
+shoes, and wearin' his uniform cap off duty, I can't help feelin' some
+shocked, or wonderin' how much more'n a five-spot I'll be out by the time
+he leaves. It was some relief, though, to see that the glass eye was
+still in place, and know I wouldn't be called on to redeem the ticket on
+that, anyway.
+
+"Hello, Snick!" says I. "Glad you came in,--I was just going. Hope you
+don't mind my lockin' the safe? No offense, you know."
+
+"Can it, Shorty," says he. "There's no brace coming this time."
+
+"Eh?" says I. "Once more with that last, and say it slower, so I can let
+it sink in."
+
+"Don't kid," says he. "This is straight business."
+
+"Oh!" says I. "Well, that does sound serious. In that case, who's
+your--er----Did he come in with you?"
+
+I thought he did at first; but he seems so little int'rested in either
+Snick or me that I wa'n't sure but he just wandered in because he saw the
+door open. He's a high, well built, fairly good lookin' chap, dressed
+neat and quiet in black; and if it wa'n't for the sort of aimless,
+wanderin' look in his eyes, you might have suspected he was somebody in
+partic'lar.
+
+"Oh, him!" says Snick, shootin' a careless glance over his shoulder.
+"Yes, of course he's with me. It's him I want to talk to you about."
+
+"Well," says I, "don't he--er----Is it a dummy, or a live one? Got a
+name, ain't it?"
+
+"Why, sure!" says Snick. "That's Hermy. Hey you, Hermy, shake hands with
+Professor McCabe!"
+
+"Howdy," says I, makin' ready to pass the grip. But Hermy ain't in a
+sociable mood, it seems.
+
+"Oh, bother!" says he, lookin' around kind of disgusted and not noticin'
+the welcomin' hand at all. "I don't want to stay here. I ought to be
+home, dressing for dinner."
+
+And say, that gives you about as much idea of the way he said it, as
+you'd get of an oil paintin' from seein' a blueprint. I can't put in the
+pettish shoulder wiggle that goes with it, or make my voice behave like
+his did. It was the most ladylike voice I ever heard come from a
+heavyweight; one of these reg'lar "Oh-fudge-Lizzie-I-dropped-my-gum"
+voices. And him with a chest on him like a swell front mahog'ny bureau!
+
+"Splash!" says I. "You mean, mean thing! So there!"
+
+"Don't mind what he says at all, Shorty," says Snick. "You wait! I'll fix
+him!" and with that he walks up to Hermy, shakes his finger under his
+nose, and proceeds to lay him out. "Now what did I tell you; eh, Hermy?"
+says Snick. "One lump of sugar in your tea--no pie--and locked in your
+room at eight-thirty. Oh, I mean it! You're here to behave yourself.
+Understand? Take your fingers off that necktie! Don't slouch against the
+wall there, either! You might get your coat dusty. Dress for dinner!
+Didn't I wait fifteen minutes while you fussed with your hair? And do you
+think you're going to go through all that again? You're dressed for
+dinner, I tell you! But you don't get a bit unless you do as you're told!
+Hear?"
+
+"Ye-e-es, sir," sniffles Hermy.
+
+Honest, it was a little the oddest exhibition I ever saw. Why, he would
+make two of Snick, this Hermy would, and he has a pair of shoulders like
+a truck horse. Don't ever talk to me about chins again, either! Hermy has
+chin enough for a trust buster; but that's all the good it seems to do
+him.
+
+"You ain't cast the hypnotic spell over him, have you, Snick?" says I.
+
+"Hypnotic nothing!" says Snick. "That ain't a man; it's only a music
+box!"
+
+"A which?" says I.
+
+"Barytone," says Snick. "Say, did you ever hear Bonci or Caruso or any of
+that mob warble? No? Well, then I'll have to tell you. Look at Hermy
+there. Take a good long gaze at him. And--sh-h-h! After he's had one show
+at the Metropolitan he'll have that whole bunch carryin' spears."
+
+"Is this something you dreamed, Snick," says I, "or is it a sample of
+your megaphone talk?"
+
+"You don't believe it, of course," says he. "That's what I brought him up
+here for. Hermy, turn on the Toreador business!"
+
+"Eh?" says I; then I sees Hermy gettin' into position to cut loose. "Back
+up there! Shut it off! What do I know about judgin' singers on the hoof?
+Why, he might be all you say, or as bad as I'd be willin' to bet; but I
+wouldn't know it. And what odds does it make to me, one way or another?"
+
+"I know, Shorty," says Snick, earnest and pleadin'; "but you're my last
+hope. I've simply got to convince you."
+
+"Sorry, Snick," says I; "but this ain't my day for tryin' out barytones.
+Besides, I got to catch a train."
+
+"All right," says Snick. "Then we'll trot along with you while I tell you
+about Hermy. Honest, Shorty, you've got to hear it!"
+
+"If it's as desperate as all that," says I, "spiel away."
+
+And of all the plunges I ever knew Snick Butters to make,--and he sure is
+the dead gamest sport I ever ran across,--this one that he owns up to
+takin' on Hermy had all his past performances put in the piker class.
+
+Accordin' to the way he deals it out, Snick had first discovered Hermy
+about a year ago, found him doin' the tray balancin' act in a porcelain
+lined three-off-and-draw-one parlor down on Seventh-ave. He was doin' it
+bad, too,--gettin' the orders mixed, and spillin' soup on the customers,
+and passin' out wrong checks, and havin' the boss worked up to the
+assassination point.
+
+But Hermy didn't even know enough to be discouraged. He kept right on
+singsongin' out his orders down the shaft, as cheerful as you please:
+"Sausage and mashed, two on the wheats, one piece of punk, and two mince,
+and let 'em come in a hurry! Silver!" You know how they do it in them C.
+B. & Q. places? Yes, corned beef and cabbage joints. With sixty or
+seventy people in a forty by twenty-five room, and the dish washers
+slammin' crockery regardless, you got to holler out if you want the chef
+to hear. Hermy wa'n't much on the shout, so he sang his orders. And it
+was this that gave Snick his pipedream.
+
+"Now you know I've done more or less tra-la-la-work myself," says he,
+"and the season I spent on the road as one of the merry villagers with an
+Erminie outfit put me wise to a few things. Course, this open air
+lecturing has spoiled my pipes for fair; but I've got my ear left,
+haven't I? And say, Shorty, the minute I heard that voice of Hermy's I
+knew he was the goods."
+
+So what does he do but go back later, after the noon rush was over, and
+get Hermy to tell him the story of his life. It wa'n't what you'd call
+thrillin'. All there was to it was that Hermy was a double orphan who'd
+been brought up in Bridgeport, Conn., by an uncle who was a dancin'
+professor. The only thing that saved Hermy from a bench in the brass
+works was his knack for poundin' out twosteps and waltzes on the piano;
+but at that it seems he was such a soft head he couldn't keep from
+watchin' the girls on the floor and striking wrong notes. Then there was
+trouble with uncle. Snick didn't get the full details of the row, or what
+brought it to a head; but anyway Hermy was fired from the academy and
+fin'lly drifted to New York, where he'd been close up against the bread
+line ever since.
+
+"And when I found how he just naturally ate up music," says Snick, "and
+how he'd had some training in a boy choir, and what a range he had, I
+says to him, 'Hermy,' says I, 'you come with me!' First I blows in ten
+good hard dollars getting a lawyer to draw up a contract. I thought it
+all out by myself; but I wanted the whereases put in right. And it's a
+peach. It bound me to find board and lodging and provide clothes and
+incidentals for Hermy for the period of one year; and in consideration of
+which, and all that, I am to be the manager and sole business
+representative of said Hermy for the term of fifteen years from date,
+entitled to a fair and equal division of whatsoever profits, salary, or
+emoluments which may be received by the party of the second part, payable
+to me, my heirs, or assigns forever. And there I am, Shorty. I've done
+it! And I'm going to stay with it!"
+
+"What!" says I. "You don't mean to say you've invested a year's board and
+lodgin' and expenses in--in that?" and I gazes once more at this hundred
+and eighty-pound wrist slapper, who is standin' there in front of the
+mirror pattin' down a stray lock.
+
+"That's what I've done," says Snick, shovin' his hands in his pockets and
+lookin' at the exhibit like he was proud of it.
+
+"But how the--where in blazes did you get it?" says I.
+
+"Squeezed it out," says Snick; "out of myself, too. And you know me. I
+always was as good to myself as other folks would let me. But all that
+had to be changed. It come hard, I admit, and it cost more'n I figured
+on. Why, some of his voice culture lessons set me back ten a throw. Think
+of that! He's had 'em, though. And me? Well, I've lived on one meal a
+day. I've done a double trick: on the wagon day times, night cashier in a
+drug store from nine till two a.m. I've cut out theaters, cigarettes, and
+drinks. I've made my old clothes last over, and I've pinched the dimes
+and nickels so hard my thumbprints would look like treasury dies. But
+we've got the goods, Shorty. Hermy may be the mushiest, sappiest, hen
+brained specimen of a man you ever saw; but when it comes to being a high
+class grand opera barytone, he's the kid! And little Percival here is his
+manager and has the power of attorney that will fix him for keeps if I
+know anything!"
+
+"Ye-e-es?" says I. "Reminds me some of the time when you was backin'
+Doughnut to win the Suburban. Recollect how hard you scraped to get the
+two-fifty you put down on Doughnut at thirty to one, and how hard you
+begged me to jump in and pull out a bale of easy money? Let's see; did
+the skate finish tenth, or did he fall through the hole in his name?"
+
+"Ah, say!" says Snick. "Don't go digging that up now. That was sport.
+This is straight business, on the level, and I ain't asking you to put up
+a cent."
+
+"Well, what then?" says I.
+
+Would you guess it? He wants me to book Hermy for a private exhibition
+before some of my swell friends! All I've got to do is to persuade some
+of 'em to give a little musicale, and then spring this nutmeg wonder on
+the box holdin' set without warnin'.
+
+"If he was a Russki with long hair," says I, "or even a fiddlin' Czech,
+they might stand for it; but to ask 'em to listen to a domestic unknown
+from Bridgeport, Conn.----I wouldn't have the nerve, Snick. Why not take
+him around to the concert agencies first?"
+
+"Bah!" says Snick. "Haven't we worn out the settees in the agency
+offices? What do they know about good barytone voices? All they judge by
+is press clippings and lists of past engagements. Now, your people would
+know. He'd have 'em going in two minutes, and they'd spread the news
+afterwards. Then we'd have the agents coming to us. See?"
+
+Course I couldn't help gettin' int'rested in this long shot of Snick's,
+even if I don't take any stock in his judgment; but I tries to explain
+that while I mix more or less with classy folks, I don't exactly keep
+their datebooks for 'em, or provide talent for their after dinner
+stunts.
+
+That don't head off Snick, though. He says I'm the only link between him
+and the set he wants to reach, and he just can't take no for an answer.
+He says he'll depend on me for a date for next Wednesday night.
+
+"Why Wednesday?" says I. "Wouldn't Thursday or Friday do as well?"
+
+"No," says he. "That's Frenchy's only night off from the cafe, and it's
+his dress suit Hermy's got to wear. It'll be some tight across the back;
+but it's the biggest one I can get the loan of without paying rent."
+
+Well, I tells Snick I'll see what can be done, and when I gets home I
+puts the problem up to Sadie. Maybe if she'd had a look at Hermy she'd
+taken more interest; but as it is she says she don't see how I can afford
+to run the chances of handin' out a lemon, even if there was an op'nin'.
+Then again, so many of our friends were at Palm Beach just now, and those
+who'd come back were so busy givin' Lent bridge parties, that the chances
+of workin' in a dark horse barytone was mighty slim. She'd think it over,
+though, and see if maybe something can't be done.
+
+So that's the best I can give Snick when he shows up in the mornin', and
+it was the same every day that week. I was kind of sorry for Snick, and
+was almost on the point of luggin' him and his discovery out to the house
+and askin' in a few of the neighbors, when Sadie tells me that the
+Purdy-Pells are back from Florida and are goin' to open their town house
+with some kind of happy jinks Wednesday night, and that we're invited.
+
+Course, that knocks out my scheme. I'd passed the sad news on to Snick;
+and it was near noon Wednesday, when I'm called up on the 'phone by
+Sadie. Seems that Mrs. Purdy-Pell had signed a lady harpist and a refined
+monologue artist to fill in the gap between coffee and bridge, and the
+lady harper had scratched her entry on account of a bad case of grip. So
+couldn't I find my friend Mr. Butters and get him to produce his singer?
+The case had been stated to Mrs. Purdy-Pell, and she was willin' to take
+the risk.
+
+"All right," says I. "But it's all up to her, don't you forget."
+
+With that I chases down to Madison Square, catches Snick just startin'
+out with a load of neck stretchers, gives him the number, and tells him
+to show up prompt at nine-thirty. And I wish you could have seen the joy
+that spread over his homely face. Even the store eye seemed to be
+sparklin' brighter'n ever.
+
+Was he there? Why, as we goes in to dinner at eight o'clock, I catches
+sight of him and Hermy holdin' down chairs in the reception room. Well,
+you know how they pull off them affairs. After they've stowed away about
+eleventeen courses, from grapefruit and sherry to demitasse and
+benedictine, them that can leave the table without wheel chairs wanders
+out into the front rooms, and the men light up fresh perfectos and hunt
+for the smokin' den, and the women get together in bunches and exchange
+polite knocks. And in the midst of all that some one drifts casually up
+to the concert grand and cuts loose. That was about the programme in this
+case.
+
+Hermy was all primed for his cue, and when Mrs. Purdy-Pell gives the nod
+I sees Snick push him through the door, and in another minute the thing
+is on. The waiter's uniform was a tight fit, all right; for it stretches
+across his shoulders like a drumhead. And the shirt studs wa'n't mates,
+and the collar was one of them saw edged laundry veterans. But the
+general effect was good, and Hermy don't seem to mind them trifles at
+all. He stands up there lookin' big and handsome, simpers and smiles
+around the room a few times, giggles a few at the young lady who'd
+volunteered to do the ivory punishing, and then fin'lly he gets under way
+with the Toreador song.
+
+As I say, when it comes to gems from Carmen, I'm no judge; but this stab
+of Hermy's strikes me from the start as a mighty good attempt. He makes a
+smooth, easy get-away, and he strikes a swingin', steady gait at the
+quarter, and when he comes to puttin' over the deep, rollin' chest notes
+I has feelin's down under the first dinner layer like I'd swallowed a
+small thunder storm. Honest, when he fairly got down to business and
+hittin' it up in earnest, he had me on my toes, and by the look on
+Sadie's face I knew that our friend Hermy was going some.
+
+But was all the others standin' around with their mouths open, drinkin'
+it in? Anything but! You see, some late comers had arrived, and they'd
+brought bulletins of something rich and juicy that had just happened in
+the alimony crowd,--I expect the event will figure on the court calendars
+later,--and they're so busy passin' on the details to willin' ears, that
+Hermy wa'n't disturbin' 'em at all. As a matter of fact, not one in ten
+of the bunch knew whether he was makin' a noise like a bullfighter or a
+line-up man.
+
+I can't help takin' a squint around at Snick, who's peekin' in through
+the draperies. And say, he's all but tearin' his hair. It was tough, when
+you come to think of it. Here he'd put his whole stack of blues on this
+performance, and the audience wa'n't payin' any more attention to it than
+to the rattle of cabs on the avenue.
+
+Hermy has most got to the final spasm, and it's about all over, when, as
+a last straw, some sort of disturbance breaks out in the front hall.
+First off I thought it must be Snick Butters throwin' a fit; but then I
+hears a voice that ain't his, and as I glances out I sees the Purdy-Pell
+butler havin' a rough house argument with a black whiskered gent in
+evenin' clothes and a Paris model silk lid. Course, everyone hears the
+rumpus, and there's a grand rush, some to get away, and others to see
+what's doin'.
+
+"Let me in! I demand entrance! It must be!" howls the gent, while the
+butler tries to tell him he's got to give up his card first.
+
+And next thing I know Snick has lit on the butler's back to pull him off,
+and the three are havin' a fine mix-up, when Mr. Purdy-Pell comes boltin'
+out, and I've just offered to bounce any of 'em that he'll point out,
+when all of a sudden he recognizes the party behind the brunette
+lambrequins.
+
+"Why--why," says he, "what does this mean, Mr. ----"
+
+"Pardon," says the gent, puffin' and pushin' to the front. "I intrude,
+yes? A thousand pardons. But I will explain. Next door I am dining--there
+is a window open--I hear that wonderful voice. Ah! that marvelous voice!
+Of what is the name of this artist? Yes? I demand! I implore! Ah, I must
+know instantly, sir!"
+
+Well, you know who it was. There's only one grand opera Napoleon with
+black whiskers who does things in that way, and makes good every trip.
+It's him, all right. And if he don't know a barytone voice, who does?
+
+Inside of four minutes him and Hermy and Snick was bunched around the
+libr'y table, chewin' over the terms of the contract, and next season
+you'll read the name of a new soloist in letters four foot high.
+
+Say, I was up to see Mr. Butters in his new suite of rooms at the St.
+Swithin, where it never rains but it pours. He'd held out for a big
+advance, and he'd got it. Also he'd invested part of it in some of the
+giddiest raiment them theatrical clothing houses can supply. While a
+manicure was busy puttin' a gloss finish on his nails, he has his
+Mongolian valet display the rest of his wardrobe, as far as he'd laid it
+in.
+
+"Did I get let in wrong on the Hermy proposition, eh?" says he. "How
+about stayin' with your luck till it turns? Any reminder of the Doughnut
+incident in this? What?"
+
+Do I debate the subject? Not me! I just slaps Snick on the back and
+wishes him joy. If he wants to credit it all up to a rabbit's foot, or a
+clover leaf, I'm willin' to let him. But say, from where I stand, it
+looks to me as if nerve and grit played some part in it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+JOY RIDING WITH AUNTY
+
+
+Was I? Then I must have been thinking of Dyke Mallory. And say, I don't
+know how you feel about it, but I figure that anybody who can supply me
+with a hang-over grin good for three days ain't lived in vain. Whatever
+it's worth, I'm on his books for just that much.
+
+I'll admit, too, that this Dyckman chap ain't apt to get many credits by
+the sweat of his brow or the fag of his brain. There's plenty of folks
+would class him as so much plain nuisance, and I have it from him that
+his own fam'ly puts it even stronger. That's one of his specialties,
+confidin' to strangers how unpop'lar he is at home. Why, he hadn't been
+to the studio more'n twice, and I'd just got next to the fact that he was
+a son of Mr. Craig Mallory, and was suggestin' a quarterly account for
+him, when he gives me the warnin' signal.
+
+"Don't!" says he. "I draw my allowance the fifteenth, and unless you get
+it away from me before the twentieth you might as well tear up the bill.
+No use sending it to the pater, either. He'd renig."
+
+"Handing you a few practical hints along the economy line, eh?" says I.
+
+"Worse than that," says Dyke. "It's a part of my penance for being the
+Great Disappointment. The whole family is down on me. Guess you don't
+know about my Aunt Elvira?"
+
+I didn't, and there was no special reason why I should; but before I can
+throw the switch Dyke has got the deputy sheriff grip on the Mallorys'
+private skeleton and is holdin' him up and explainin' his anatomy.
+
+Now, from all I'd ever seen or heard, I'd always supposed Mr. Craig
+Mallory to be one of the safety vault crowd. Course, they live at Number
+4 West; but that's near enough to the avenue for one of the old fam'lies.
+And when you find a man who puts in his time as chairman of regatta
+committees, and judgin' hackneys, and actin' as vice president of a swell
+club, you're apt to rate him in the seven figure bunch, at least.
+Accordin' to Duke, though, the Mallory income needed as much stretchin'
+as the pay of a twenty-dollar clothing clerk tryin' to live in a
+thirty-five dollar flat. And this is the burg where you can be as hard up
+on fifty thousand a year as on five hundred!
+
+The one thing the Mallorys had to look forward to was the time when Aunt
+Elvira would trade her sealskin sack for a robe of glory and loosen up on
+her real estate. She was near seventy, Aunty was, and when she first went
+out to live at the old country place, up beyond Fort George, it was a
+good half-day's trip down to 23d-st. But she went right on livin', and
+New York kept right on growin', and now she owns a cow pasture two blocks
+from a subway station, and raises potatoes on land worth a thousand
+dollars a front foot.
+
+Bein' of different tastes and habits, her and Brother Craig never got
+along together very well, and there was years when each of 'em tried to
+forget that the other existed. When little Dyckman came, though, the
+frost was melted. She hadn't paid any attention to the girls; but a boy
+was diff'rent. Never havin' had a son of her own to boss around and brag
+about, she took it out on Dyke. A nice, pious old lady, Aunt Elvira was;
+and the mere fact that little Dyke seemed to fancy the taste of a morocco
+covered New Testament she presented to him on his third birthday settled
+his future in her mind.
+
+"He shall be a Bishop!" says she, and hints that accordin' as Dyckman
+shows progress along that line she intends loadin' him up with worldly
+goods.
+
+Up to the age of fifteen, Dyke gives a fair imitation of a Bishop in the
+bud. He's a light haired, pleasant spoken youth, who stands well with his
+Sunday school teacher and repeats passages from the Psalms for Aunt
+Elvira when she comes down to inflict her annual visit.
+
+But from then on the bulletins wa'n't so favor'ble. At the diff'rent
+prep. schools where he was tried out he appeared to be too much of a live
+one to make much headway with the dead languages. About the only subjects
+he led his class in was hazing and football and buildin' bonfires of the
+school furniture. Being expelled got to be so common with him that
+towards the last he didn't stop to unpack his trunk.
+
+Not that these harrowin' details was passed on to Aunt Elvira. The
+Mallorys begun by doctorin' the returns, and they developed into reg'lar
+experts at the game of representin' to Aunty what a sainted little fellow
+Dyke was growin' to be. The more practice they got, the harder their
+imaginations was worked; for by the time Dyckman was strugglin' through
+his last year at college he'd got to be such a full blown hickey boy that
+he'd have been spotted for a sport in a blind asylum.
+
+So they had to invent one excuse after another to keep Aunt Elvira from
+seein' him, all the while givin' her tales about how he was soon to break
+into the divinity school; hoping, of course, that Aunty would get tired
+of waitin' and begin to unbelt.
+
+"They overdid it, that's all," says Dyke. "Healthy looking Bishop I'd
+make! What?"
+
+"You ain't got just the style for a right reverend, that's a fact," says
+I.
+
+Which wa'n't any wild statement of the case, either. He's a tall, loose
+jointed, slope shouldered young gent, with a long, narrow face, gen'rally
+ornamented by a cigarette; and he has his straw colored hair cut plush.
+His costume is neat but expensive,--double reefed trousers, wide soled
+shoes, and a green yodler's hat with the bow on behind. He talks with the
+kind of English accent they pick up at New Haven, and when he's in repose
+he tries to let on he's so bored with life that he's in danger of fallin'
+asleep any minute.
+
+Judgin' from Dyke's past performances, though, there wa'n't many
+somnolent hours in it. But in spite of all the trouble he'd got into, I
+couldn't figure him out as anything more'n playful. Course, rough housin'
+in rathskellers until they called out the reserves, and turnin' the fire
+hose on a vaudeville artist from a box, and runnin' wild with a captured
+trolley car wa'n't what you might call innocent boyishness; but, after
+all, there wa'n't anything real vicious about Dyke.
+
+Playful states it. Give him a high powered tourin' car, with a bunch of
+eight or nine from the football squad aboard, and he liked to tear around
+the State of Connecticut burnin' the midnight gasolene and lullin' the
+villagers to sleep with the Boula-Boula song. Perfectly harmless fun--if
+the highways was kept clear. All the frat crowd said he was a good
+fellow, and it was a shame to bar him out from takin' a degree just on
+account of his layin' down on a few exams. But that's what the faculty
+did, and the folks at home was wild.
+
+Dyke had been back and on the unclassified list for nearly a year now,
+and the prospects of his breakin' into the divinity school was growin'
+worse every day. He'd jollied Mr. Mallory into lettin' him have a little
+two-cylinder roadster, and his only real pleasure in life was when he
+could load a few old grads on the runnin' board and go off for a joy
+ride.
+
+But after the old man had spent the cost of a new machine in police court
+fines and repairs, even this little diversion was yanked away. The last
+broken axle had done the business, and the nearest Dyke could come to
+real enjoyment was when he had the price to charter a pink taxi and
+inspire the chauffeur with highballs enough so he'd throw her wide open
+on the way back.
+
+Not bein' responsible for Dyke, I didn't mind having him around. I kind
+of enjoyed the cheerful way he had of tellin' about the fam'ly boycott on
+him, and every time I thinks of Aunt Elvira still havin' him framed up
+for a comer in the Bishop class, I has to smile.
+
+You see, having gone so far with their fairy tales, the Mallorys never
+got a chance to hedge; and, accordin' to Dyke, they was all scared stiff
+for fear she'd dig up the facts some day, and make a new will leavin' her
+rentroll to the foreign missions society.
+
+Maybe it was because I took more or less interest in him, but perhaps it
+was just because he wanted company and I happened to be handy; anyway,
+here the other afternoon Dyke comes poundin' up the stairs two at a time,
+rushes into the front office, and grabs me by the arm.
+
+"Come on, Shorty!" says he. "Something fruity is on the schedule."
+
+"Hope it don't taste like a lemon," says I. "What's the grand rush?"
+
+"Aunt Elvira is coming down, and she's called for me," says Dyke,
+grinnin' wide. "She must suspect something; for she sent word that if I
+wasn't on hand this time she'd never come again. What do you think of
+that?"
+
+"Aunty's got a treat in store for her, eh?" says I, givin' Dyke the
+wink.
+
+"I should gurgle!" says he. "I'm good and tired of this fake Bishop
+business, and if I don't jolt the old lady out of that nonsense, I'm a
+duffer. You can help some, I guess. Come on."
+
+Well, I didn't exactly like the idea of mixin' up with a fam'ly surprise
+party like that; but Dyke is so anxious for me to go along, and he gets
+me so curious to see what'll happen at the reunion, that I fin'lly grabs
+my coat and hat, and out we trails.
+
+It seems that Aunt Elvira is due at the Grand Central. Never having tried
+the subway, she's come to town just as she used to thirty years ago:
+drivin' to Kingsbridge station, and takin' a Harlem river local down. We
+finds the whole fam'ly, includin' Mr. and Mrs. Craig Mallory, and their
+two married daughters, waitin' outside the gates, with the gloom about
+'em so thick you'd almost think it was a sea turn.
+
+From the chilly looks they shot at Dyke you could tell just how they'd
+forecasted the result when Aunt Elvira got him all sized up; for, with
+his collar turned up and his green hat slouched, he looks as much like a
+divinity student as a bulldog looks like Mary's lamb. And they can almost
+see them blocks of apartment houses bein' handed over to the heathen.
+
+As for Mr. Craig Mallory, he never so much as gives his only son a second
+glance, but turns his back and stands there, twistin' the ends of his
+close cropped gray mustache, and tryin' to look like he wa'n't concerned
+at all. Good old sport, Craig,--one of the kind that can sit behind a
+pair of sevens and raise the opener out of his socks. Lucky for his
+nerves he didn't have to wait long. Pretty soon in pulls the train, and
+the folks from Yonkers and Tarrytown begin to file past.
+
+[Illustration: "Most of Auntie was obscured by the luggage she carries"]
+
+"There she is!" whispers Dyke, givin' me the nudge. "That's Aunt Elvira,
+with her bonnet on one ear."
+
+It's one of the few black velvet lids of the 1869 model still in
+captivity, ornamented with a bunch of indigo tinted violets, and kept
+from bein' lost off altogether by purple strings tied under the chin.
+Most of the rest of Aunty was obscured by the hand luggage she carries,
+which includes four assorted parcels done up in wrappin' paper, and a
+big, brass wire cage holdin' a ragged lookin' gray parrot that was tryin'
+to stick his bill through the bars and sample the passersby.
+
+She's a wrinkled faced, but well colored and hearty lookin' old girl, and
+the eyes that peeks out under the rim of the velvet lid is as keen and
+shrewd as a squirrel's. Whatever else she might be, it was plain Aunt
+Elvira wa'n't feeble minded. Behind her comes a couple of station
+porters, one cartin' an old-time black valise, and the other with his
+arms wrapped around a full sized featherbed in a blue and white tick.
+
+"Gee!" says I. "Aunty carries her own scenery with her, don't she?"
+
+"That's Bismarck in the cage," says Dyke.
+
+"How Bizzy has changed!" says I. "But why the feather mattress?"
+
+"She won't sleep on anything else," says he. "Watch how pleased my
+sisters look. They just love this--not! But she insists on having the
+whole family here to meet her."
+
+I must say for Mr. Mallory that he stood it well, a heavy swell like him
+givin' the glad hand in public to a quaint old freak like that. But Aunt
+Elvira don't waste much time swappin' fam'ly greetin's.
+
+"Where is Dyckman?" says she, settin' her chin for trouble. "Isn't he
+here?"
+
+"Oh, yes," says Mr. Mallory. "Right over there," and he points his cane
+handle to where Dyke and me are grouped on the side lines.
+
+"Here, hold Bismarck!" says Aunty, jammin' the brass cage into Mr.
+Mallory's arm, and with that she pikes straight over to us. I never
+mistrusted she'd be in any doubt as to which was which, until I sees her
+look from one to the other, kind of waverin'. No wonder, though; for,
+from the descriptions she'd had, neither of us came up to the divinity
+student specifications. Yet it was something of a shock when she fixes
+them sharp old lamps on me and says:
+
+"Land to goodness! You?"
+
+"Reverse!" says I. "Here's the guilty party," and I pushes Dyke to the
+front.
+
+She don't gasp, or go up in the air, or throw any kind of a fit, like I
+expected. As she looks him over careful, from the sporty hat to the wide
+soled shoes, I notices her eyes twinkle.
+
+"Hum! I thought as much!" says she. "Craig always could lie easier than
+he could tell the truth. Young man, you don't look to me like a person
+called to hold orders."
+
+"Glad of it, Aunty," says Dyke, with a grin. "I don't feel that way."
+
+"And you don't look as if you had broken down your health studying for
+the ministry, either!" she goes on.
+
+"You don't mean to say they filled you up with that?" says Dyke.
+"Hee-haw!"
+
+"Huh!" says Aunty. "It's a joke, is it? At least you're not afraid to
+tell the truth. I guess I want to have a little private talk with you.
+Who's this other young man?"
+
+"This is Professor McCabe," says Dyke. "He's a friend of mine."
+
+"Let him come along, too," says Aunty. "Perhaps he can supply what you
+leave out."
+
+And, say, the old girl knew what she wanted and when she wanted it, all
+right! There was no bunkoin' her out of it, either. Mr. Mallory leads her
+out to his brougham and does his best to shoo her in with him and Mrs.
+Mallory and away from Dyke; but it was no go.
+
+"I will ride up with Dyckman and his friend," says she. "And I want to go
+in one of those new automobile cabs I've heard so much about."
+
+"Good! We'll get one, Aunty," says Dyke, and then he whispers in my ear,
+"Slip around the corner and call for Jerry Powers. Number 439. He can
+make a taxi take hurdles and water jumps."
+
+I don't know whether it was luck or not, but Jerry was on the stand with
+the tin flag up, and inside of two minutes the three of us was stowed
+away inside, with the bag on top, and Dyke holdin' Bismarck in his lap.
+
+"Now my featherbed," says Aunt Elvira, and she has the porter jam it in
+alongside of me, which makes more or less of a full house. Then the
+procession starts, our taxi in the lead, the brougham second, and the
+married sisters trailin' behind in a hansom.
+
+"My sakes! but these things do ride easy!" says Aunty, settlin' back in
+her corner. "Can they go any faster, Dyckman?"
+
+"Just wait until we get straightened out on the avenue," says Dyke, and
+tips me the roguish glance.
+
+"I've ridden behind some fast horses in my time," says the old lady; "so
+you can't scare me. But now, Dyckman, I'd like to know exactly what
+you've been doing, and what you intend to do."
+
+Well, Dyke starts in to unload the whole yarn, beginnin' by ownin' up
+that he'd scratched the Bishop proposition long ago. And he was statin'
+some of his troubles at college, when I gets a backward glimpse out of
+the side window at something that makes me sit up. First off I thought it
+was another snow storm with flakes bigger'n I'd ever seen before, and
+then I tumbles to the situation. It ain't snow; it's feathers. In jammin'
+that mattress into the taxi the tick must have had a hole ripped in it,
+and the part that was bulgin' through the opposite window was leakin' hen
+foliage to beat the cars.
+
+"Hey!" says I, buttin' in on the confession and pointin' back. "We're
+losin' part of our cargo."
+
+"Land sakes!" says Aunt Elvira, after one glance. "Stop! Stop!"
+
+At that Dyke pounds on the front glass for the driver to shut off the
+juice. But Jerry must have had Dyke out before, and maybe he mistook the
+signal. Anyway, the machine gives a groan and a jerk and we begins
+skimmin' along the asphalt at double speed. That don't check the moltin'
+process any, and Dyke was gettin' real excited, when we hears a chuckle
+from Aunt Elvira.
+
+The old girl has got her eyes trained through the back window. Thanks to
+our speed and the stiff wind that's blowin' down the avenue, the Mallory
+brougham, with the horses on the jump to keep up with us, is gettin' the
+full benefit of the feather storm. The dark green uniforms of the Mallory
+coachman and footman was being plastered thick, and they was both
+spittin' out feathers as fast as they could, and the Mallorys was wipin'
+'em out of their eyes and ears, and the crowds on the sidewalk has caught
+on and is enjoyin' the performance, and a mounted cop was starin' at us
+kind of puzzled, as if he was tryin' to decide whether or not we was
+breakin' an ordinance.
+
+"Look at Craig! Look at Mabel Ann!" snickers Aunt Elvira. "Tell your man
+to go faster, Dyckman. Push out more feathers!"
+
+"More feathers it is," says I, shovin' another fold of the bed through
+the window. Even Bismarck gets excited and starts squawkin'.
+
+Talk about your joy rides! I'll bet that's the only one of the kind ever
+pulled off on Fifth-ave. And it near tickles the old girl to death. What
+was a featherbed to her, when she had her sportin' blood up and was
+gettin' a hunch in on Brother Craig and his wife?
+
+We goes four blocks before we shakes out the last of our ammunition, and
+by that time the Mallory brougham looks like a poultry wagon after a busy
+day at the market, while Aunt Elvira has cut loose with the mirth so hard
+that the velvet bonnet is hangin' under her chin, and Bismarck is out of
+breath. It's a wonder we wa'n't pinched for breakin' the speed laws; but
+the traffic cops is so busy watchin' the feather blizzard that they
+forgets to hold us up. Dyke wants to know if I'll come in for a cup of
+tea, or ride back with Jerry.
+
+"Thanks, but I'll walk back," says I, as we pulls up at the house. "Guess
+I can find the trail easy enough, eh?"
+
+I s'posed I'd get a report of the reunion from him next day; but it
+wa'n't until this mornin' that he shows up here and drags me down to the
+curb to look at his new sixty-horse-power macadam burner.
+
+"Birthday present from Aunty," says he. "Say, she's all to the good,
+Shorty. She got over that Bishop idea months ago, all by herself. And
+what do you think? She says I'm to have a thousand a month, just to enjoy
+myself on. Whe-e-e! Can I do it?"
+
+"Do it, son," says I. "If you can't, I don't know who can."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+TURNING A TRICK FOR BEANY
+
+
+Where'd I collect the Flemish oak tint on muh noble br-r-r-ow? No, not
+sunnin' myself down to Coney Island. No such tinhorn stunt for me! This
+is the real plute color, this is, and I laid it on durin' a little bubble
+tour we'd been takin' through the breakfast doughnut zone.
+
+It was Pinckney's blow. He ain't had the gasolene-burnin' fever very hard
+until this summer; but when he does get it, he goes the limit, as usual.
+Course, he's been off on excursions with his friends, and occasionally
+he's chartered a machine by the day; but I'd never heard him talk of
+wantin' to own one. And then the first thing I knows he shows up at the
+house last Monday night in the tonneau of one of these big seven-seater
+road destroyers, all fitted out complete with spare shoes, hat box, and a
+double-decker trunk strapped on the rack behind.
+
+"Gee!" says I. "Why didn't you buy a private railroad train while you was
+about it, Pinckney?"
+
+"Precisely what I thought I was getting," says he. "However, I want you
+and Sadie to help me test it. We'll start to-morrow morning at
+nine-thirty. Be all ready, will you?"
+
+"Got any idea where you're going, or how long you'll be gone?" says I.
+
+"Nothing very definite," says he. "Purdy-Pell suggested the shore road to
+Boston and back through the Berkshires."
+
+"Fine!" says I. "I'd love to go meanderin' through the country with you
+from now until Christmas; but sad to say I've got one or two----"
+
+"Oh, Renee tells me we can make it in four days," says Pinckney, nodding
+at the chauffeur. "He's been over the route a dozen times."
+
+Well, I puts the proposition up to Sadie, expectin' she'd queer it first
+jump; but inside of ten minutes she'd planned out just how she could
+leave little Sully, and what she should wear, and it's all fixed. I tried
+to show her where I couldn't afford to quit the studio for two or three
+weeks, just at this time of year, when so many of my reg'lars need tunin'
+up after their vacations; but my arguments don't carry much weight.
+
+"Rubbish, Shorty!" says she. "We'll be back before the end of the week,
+and Swifty Joe can manage until then. Anyway, we're not going to miss
+this lovely weather. We're going, that's all!"
+
+"Well," says I to Pinckney, "I've decided to go."
+
+Now this ain't any lightnin' conductor rehash. Bubble tourin' has its
+good points, and it has its drawbacks, too. If you're willin' to take
+things as they come along, and you're travelin' with the right bunch, and
+your own disposition's fair to middlin', why, you can have a bang up
+time, just like you could anywhere with the same layout. Also, I'm
+willin' to risk an encore to this partic'lar trip any time I get the
+chance.
+
+But there was something else I was gettin' at. It don't turn up until
+along durin' the afternoon of our second day out. We was tearin' along
+one of them new tar roads between Narragansett Pier and Newport, and I
+was tryin' to hand a josh to Renee by askin' him to be sure and tell me
+when we went through Rhode Island, as I wanted to take a glance at
+it,--for we must have been hittin' fifty an hour, with the engine runnin'
+as smooth and sweet as a French clock,--when all of a sudden there's a
+bang like bustin' a paper bag, and we feels the car sag down on one
+side.
+
+"_Sacre!_" says Renee through his front teeth.
+
+"Ha, ha!" sings out Pinckney. "My first blow-out!"
+
+"Glad you feel so happy over it," says I.
+
+It's a sensation that don't bring much joy, as a rule. Here you are,
+skimmin' along through the country, glancin' at things sort of casual,
+same's you do from a Pullman window, but not takin' any int'rest in the
+scenery except in a general way, only wonderin' now and then how it is
+people happen to live in places so far away.
+
+And then all in a minute the scenery ain't movin' past you at all. It
+stops dead in its tracks, like when the film of a movin' picture machine
+gets tangled up, and there's only one partic'lar scene to look at. It's
+mighty curious, too, how quick that special spot loses its charm. Also,
+as a gen'ral rule, such things happen just at the wrong spot in the road.
+Now we'd been sailin' along over a ridge, where we could look out across
+Narragansett Bay for miles; but here where our tire had gone on the blink
+was a kind of dip down between the hills, with no view at all.
+
+First off we all has to pile out and get in Renee's way while he inspects
+the damage. It's a blow-out for fair, a hole big enough to lay your two
+hands in, right across the tread, where we'd picked up a broken bottle,
+or maybe a cast horseshoe with the nails in it. Then, while he proceeds
+to get busy with the jack and tire irons, we all makes up our minds to a
+good long wait; for when you tackle one of them big boys, with the rims
+rusted in, it ain't any fifteen-minute picnic, you know.
+
+Course, Pinckney gets out his fireless bottles and the glasses and
+improves the time by handin' around somethin' soothin' or cheerin',
+accordin' to taste. Not bein' thirsty, I begins inspectin' the contagious
+scenery. It wa'n't anything an artist would yearn to paint. Just back
+from the road is a sort of shack that looks as though someone might be
+campin' out in it, and behind that a mess of rough sheds and chicken
+coops.
+
+Next I discovers that the object down in the field which I'd taken for a
+scarecrow was a live man. By the motions he's goin' through, he's diggin'
+potatoes, and from the way he sticks to it, not payin' any attention to
+us, it seems as if he found it a mighty int'restin' pastime. You'd most
+think, livin' in an out of the way, forsaken place like that, that most
+any native would be glad to stop work long enough to look over a hot
+lookin' bunch like ours.
+
+This one don't seem inclined that way, though. He keeps his back bent and
+his head down and his hands busy. Now, whenever I've been out in a
+machine, and we've had any kind of trouble, there's always been a gawpin'
+committee standin' around, composed of every human being in sight at the
+time of the casualty, includin' a few that seemed to pop up out of the
+ground. But here's a case where the only party that can act as an
+audience ain't doin' his duty. So a fool freak hits me to stroll over and
+poke him up.
+
+"Hey, you!" says I, vaultin' the fence.
+
+He jerks his head up a little at that, kind of stares in my direction,
+and then dives into another hill of spuds.
+
+"Huh!" thinks I. "Don't want any city folks in his'n, by chowder! But
+here's where he gets 'em thrust on him!" and I pikes over for a closer
+view. Couldn't see much, though, but dirty overalls, blue outing shirt,
+and an old haymaker's straw hat with a brim that lops down around his
+face and ears.
+
+"Excuse me," says I; "but ain't you missin' a trick, or is it because you
+don't feel sociable to-day? How're the murphies pannin' out this
+season?"
+
+To see the start he gives, you'd think I'd crept up from behind and
+swatted him one. He straightens up, backs off a step or two, and opens
+his mouth. "Why--why----" says he, after one or two gasps. "Who are you,
+please?"
+
+"Me?" says I. "Oh, I'm just a stray stranger. I was being shot through
+your cunnin' little State on a no-stop schedule, when one of our tires
+went out of business. Hence this informal call."
+
+"But," says he, hesitatin' and pushin' back the hat brim, "isn't
+this--er--aren't you Professor McCabe?"
+
+Say, then it was my turn to do the open face act! Course, knockin' around
+as much as I have and rubbin' against so many diff'rent kinds of folks,
+I'm liable to run across people that know me anywhere; but blamed if I
+expected to do it just walkin' out accidental into a potato orchard.
+
+Sure enough, too, there was something familiar about that long thin nose
+and the droopy mouth corners; but I couldn't place him. Specially I'd
+been willin' to pass my oath I'd never known any party that owned such a
+scatterin' crop of bleached face herbage as he was sportin'. It looked
+like bunches of old hay on the side of a hill. The stary, faded out blue
+eyes wa'n't just like any I could remember, either, and I'm gen'rally
+strong on that point.
+
+"You've called my number, all right," says I; "but, as for returnin' the
+compliment, you've got me going, neighbor. How do you think I'm
+looking?"
+
+He makes a weak stab at springin' a smile, about the ghastliest attempt
+at that sort of thing I ever watched, and then he shrugs his shoulders.
+"I--I couldn't say about your looks," says he. "I recognized you by your
+voice. Perhaps you won't remember me at all. I'm Dexter Bean."
+
+"What!" says I. "Not Beany, that used to do architectin' on the top floor
+over the studio?"
+
+"Yes," says he.
+
+"And you've forgot my mug so soon?" says I.
+
+"Oh, no!" says he, speakin' up quick. "I haven't forgotten. But I can't
+see very well now, you know. In fact, I--I'm---- Well, it's almost night
+time with me, Shorty," and by the way he chokes up I can tell how hard it
+is for him to get out even that much.
+
+"You don't mean," says I, "that--that you----"
+
+He nods, puts his hands up to his face, and turns his head for a minute.
+
+Well, say, I've had lumps come in my throat once in a while before on
+some account or other; but I never felt so much like I'd swallowed a
+prize punkin as I did just then. Most night time! Course, you hear of
+lots of cases, and you know there's asylums where such people are taken
+care of and taught to weave cane bottoms for chairs; but I tell you when
+you get right up against such a case, a party you've known and liked, and
+it's handed to you sudden that he's almost in the stick tappin'
+class--well, it's apt to get you hard. I know it did me. Why, I didn't
+know any more what to do or say than a goat. But it was my next.
+
+"Well, well, Beany, old boy!" says I, slidin' an arm across his shoulder.
+"This is all news to me. Let's get over in the shade and talk this thing
+over."
+
+"I--I'd like to, Shorty," says he.
+
+So we camps down under a tree next to the fence, and he gives me the
+story. As he talks, too, it all comes back to me about the first time
+some of them boys from up stairs towed him down to the studio. He'd
+drifted in from some Down East crossroads, where he'd taken a course in
+mechanical drawin' and got the idea that he was an architect. And a
+greener Rube than him I never expect to see. It was a wonder some
+milliner hadn't grabbed him and sewed him on a hat before he got to
+42d-st.
+
+Maybe that gang of T Square sports didn't find him entertainin', too.
+Why, he swallowed all the moldy old bunk yarns they passed over, and when
+they couldn't hold in any longer, and just let loose the hee-haws, he
+took it good natured, springin' that kind of sad smile of his on 'em, and
+not even gettin' red around the ears. So the boss set him to sweepin' the
+floors and tendin' the blueprint frames on the roof.
+
+That's the way he broke in. Then a few months later, when they had a rush
+of contracts, they tried him out on some detail work. But his drawin' was
+too ragged. He was so good natured, though, and so willin' to do anything
+for anybody, that they kept him around, mainly to spring new gags on, so
+far as I could see.
+
+It wa'n't until he got at some house plans by accident that they found
+out where he fitted in. He'd go over a set of them puzzle rolls that mean
+as much to me as a laundry ticket, and he'd point out where there was
+room for another clothes closet off some chamber here, and a laundry
+chute there, and how the sink in the butler's pantry was on the wrong
+side for a right handed dish washer, and a lot of little details that
+nobody else would think of unless they'd lived in just such a house for
+six months or so. Beany the Home Expert, they called him after that, and
+before any house plans was O. K.'d by the boss he had to revise 'em.
+
+Then he got to hangin' round the studio after hours, helpin' Swifty Joe
+clean up and listenin' to his enlightenin' conversation. It takes a
+mighty talented listener to get Swifty started; but when he does get his
+tongue once limbered up, and is sure of his audience, he enjoys nothin'
+like givin' off his views in wholesale lots.
+
+As for me, I never said a whole lot to Beany, nor him to me; but I
+couldn't help growin' to like the cuss, because he was one of them
+gentle, quiet kind that you cotton to without knowin' exactly why. Not
+that I missed him a lot when he disappeared. Fact was, he just dropped
+out, and I don't know as I even asked what had become of him.
+
+I was hearin' now, though. It wa'n't any great tragedy, to start with.
+Some of the boys got skylarkin' one lunch hour, and Beany was watchin'
+'em, when a lead paper weight he was holdin' slipped out of his hand,
+struck the end of a ruler, and flipped it up into his face. A sharp
+corner hit him in the eye, that's all. He had the sore peeper bound up
+for three or four days before he took it to a hospital.
+
+When he didn't show up again they wondered some, and one of the firm
+inquired for him at his old boardin' place. You know how it is in town.
+There's so many comin' and goin' that it's hard to keep track of 'em all.
+So Beany just faded out.
+
+He told me that when the hospital doctor put it to him flat how bad off
+his bum lamp was, and how the other was due to go the same way, he just
+started out and walked aimless for two days and nights, hardly stoppin'.
+Then he steadied down, pulled himself together, and mapped out a plan.
+
+Besides architectin', all he knew how to do was to raise chickens. He
+figured that if he could get a little place off where land was cheap, and
+get the hang of it well in his head before his glim was doused
+altogether, he might worry along. He couldn't bear to think of goin' back
+to his old home, or hangin' around among strangers until he had to be
+herded into one of them big brick barracks. He wanted to be alone and
+outdoors.
+
+He had a few dollars with him that he'd saved up, and when he struck this
+little sand plot, miles from anywhere, he squat right down on it, built
+his shack, got some settin' hens, and prepared for a long siege in the
+dark. One eye was all to the bad already, and the other was beginnin' to
+grow dim. Nice cheerful proposition to wake up to every mornin', wa'n't
+it?
+
+Does Beany whine any in tellin' it, though? Never a whimper! Gets off his
+little jokes on himself about the breaks he makes cookin' his meals, such
+as sweetenin' his coffee out of the salt bag, and bitin' into a cake of
+bar soap, thinkin' it was a slice of the soggy bread he'd make. Keeps his
+courage up, too, by trying to think that maybe livin' outdoors and
+improvin' his health will help him get back his sight.
+
+"I'm sure I am some better already," says he. "For months all I could see
+out of my left eye was purple and yellow and blue rings. Now I don't see
+those at all."
+
+"That so?" says I, battin' my head for some come-back that would fit.
+"Why--er--I should think you'd miss 'em, Beany."
+
+Brilliant, wa'n't it? But Beany throws back his head and lets out the
+first real laugh he's indulged in for over a year.
+
+"No, hardly that," says he. "I don't care about carrying my rainbows
+around with me."
+
+"But look here, Beany," says I. "You can't stay here doin' the poultry
+hermit act."
+
+"It's the only thing I'm fit for," says he; "so I must."
+
+"Then you've got to let us send you a few things occasionally," says I.
+"I'll look up your old boss and----"
+
+"No, no!" says he. "I'm getting along all right. I've been a little
+lonesome; but I'll pull through."
+
+"You ought to be doin' some doctorin', though," says I.
+
+He shrugs his shoulders again and waves one hand. "What's the use?" says
+he. "They told me at the hospital there wasn't any help. No, I'll just
+stay here and plug it out by myself."
+
+Talk about clear grit, eh! And maybe you can frame up my feelin's when he
+insists there ain't a thing I can do for him. About then, too, I hears
+'em shoutin' from the car for me to come along, as they're all ready to
+start again. So all I does is swap grips with Beany, get off some fool
+speech about wishin' him luck, and leave him standin' there in the potato
+field.
+
+Somehow I didn't enjoy the rest of that day's run very much, and when
+they jollies me by askin' who's my scarecrow acquaintance I couldn't work
+myself up to tellin' 'em about him. But all I could think of was Beany
+back there pokin' around alone in the fog that was settlin' down thicker
+and thicker every day. And in the course of two or three hours I had a
+thought.
+
+"Pinckney," says I, as we was puttin' up in Newport, "you know all sorts
+of crackerjacks. Got any expert eye doctors on your list?"
+
+He chews that over a minute or so, and concludes that he has, a Dr. Jason
+Craige, who's right here in town.
+
+"He's the real thing, is he?" says I.
+
+"Most skillful oculist in the country," says Pinckney, "and charges
+accordingly."
+
+"As high as fifty a throw?" says I.
+
+"Fifty!" says Pinckney. "You should see his Cliff Walk cottage."
+
+"Let's," says I. "There's a friend of mine I'd like to have him take a
+look at to-morrow."
+
+"No use," says Pinckney. "He drops his practice entirely during his
+vacation; wouldn't treat an Emperor then, I've heard him say. He's a good
+deal of a crank on that--and billiards."
+
+"But see here, Pinckney," says I, and I goes on to give him the whole
+tale about Beany, puttin' it over as strong as I knew how.
+
+"Sorry," says Pinckney; "but I know of no way in which I could induce him
+to change his custom. He's Scotch, you know, and as obstinate as---- Hold
+on, Shorty! I've an idea. How strong will you back my game of
+billiards?"
+
+Now of all the erratic cue performers I ever watched, Pinckney gets the
+medal. There's times when he can nurse 'em along the cushion and run up
+quite a string, and then again I've seen him play a game any duffer'd be
+ashamed of. But I begins to smell out his scheme.
+
+"If it means a chance for Beany," says I, "I'll bid good-by to five
+twenties and let you do your worst."
+
+"A wager of that sort would tempt Craige, if anything would," says
+Pinckney. "We'll try it on, anyway."
+
+Whether it was the bluff Pinckney threw, or the insultin' way he suggests
+that the Doc don't dare take him up, I can't say. All I know is that
+inside of half an hour we was in Jason Craige's private billiard room,
+him and Pinckney peeled down to their shirts, and at it.
+
+As a rule I could go to sleep watchin' the best three-ball carom game
+ever played; but durin' this contest I holds the marker's stick and never
+misses a move. First off Pinckney plays about as skillful as a trained
+pig practicin' on the piano; but after four or five minutes of punk
+exhibition he takes a brace and surprises himself.
+
+No need going into details. Pinckney wins out, and the Doc slams his cue
+into the rack with some remark about producin' the charity patient
+to-morrow. Did I? I routs Renee out at daylight next mornin', has him
+make a fifty-mile run at Vanderbilt Cup speed, and we has Beany in the
+eye expert's lib'ry before he comes down for breakfast.
+
+It takes Dr. Craige less'n three minutes to discover that the hospital
+hand who told Beany he was bound to lose both lamps was a fat brained nut
+who'd be more useful drivin' an ashcart. The Doc lays Beany out on a
+leather couch, uses a little cocaine in the right place, monkeys around a
+minute or so with some shiny hardware, and announces that after he's laid
+up for twenty-four hours in a dark room, usin' the wash reg'lar, he'll be
+able to see as well as any of us.
+
+It's a fact, too; for Beany goes back on his old job next Monday
+mornin'.
+
+"By Jove!" says Pinckney, after the trick is turned. "A miracle,
+Craige!"
+
+"Miracle be blowed!" says the Doc. "You accomplished the miracle last
+night, Pinckney, when you ran thirty-two buttons on scratch hits."
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+      *      *      *      *      *      *
+
+
+THE NOVELS OF
+GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list.
+
+GRAUSTARK. Illustrated with Scenes from the Play.
+
+With the appearance of this novel, the author introduced a new type of
+story and won for himself a perpetual reading public. It is the story of
+love behind a throne in a new and strange country.
+
+BEVERLY OF GRAUSTARK. Illustrations by Harrison Fisher.
+
+This is a sequel to "Graustark." A bewitching American girl visits the
+little principality and there has a romantic love affair.
+
+PRINCE OF GRAUSTARK. Illustrations by A. I. Keller.
+
+The Prince of Graustark is none other than the son of the heroine of
+"Graustark." Beverly's daughter, and an American multimillionaire with a
+brilliant and lovely daughter also figure in the story.
+
+BREWSTER'S MILLIONS.
+
+Illustrated with Scenes from the Photo-Play.
+
+A young man, required to spend one million dollars in one year, in order
+to inherit _seven_, accomplishes the task in this lively story.
+
+COWARDICE COURT.
+
+Illus. by Harrison Fisher and decorations by Theodore Hapgood.
+
+A romance of love and adventure, the plot forming around a social feud in
+the Adirondacks in which an English girl is tempted into being a traitor
+by a romantic young American.
+
+THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND. Illustrated by A. I. Keller.
+
+A story of modern New York, built around an ancient enmity, born of the
+scorn of the aristocrat for one of inferior birth.
+
+WHAT'S-HIS-NAME. Illustrations by Harrison Fisher.
+
+"What's-His-Name" is the husband of a beautiful and popular actress who
+is billboarded on Broadway under an assumed name. The very opposite
+manner in which these two live their lives brings a dramatic climax to
+the story.
+
+Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction
+Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York
+
+      *      *      *      *      *      *
+
+ZANE GREY'S NOVELS
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list
+
+THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS
+
+A New York society girl buys a ranch which becomes the center of frontier
+warfare. Her loyal superintendent rescues her when she is captured by
+bandits. A surprising climax brings the story to a delightful close.
+
+THE RAINBOW TRAIL
+
+The story of a young clergyman who becomes a wanderer in the great
+western uplands--until at last love and faith awake.
+
+DESERT GOLD
+
+The story describes the recent uprising along the border, and ends with
+the finding of the gold which two prospectors had willed to the girl who
+is the story's heroine.
+
+RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE
+
+A picturesque romance of Utah of some forty years ago when Mormon
+authority ruled. The prosecution of Jane Withersteen is the theme of the
+story.
+
+THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN
+
+This is the record of a trip which the author took with Buffalo Jones,
+known as the _preserver of the American bison, across the Arizona desert
+and of a hunt in_ "that wonderful country of deep canons and giant
+pines."
+
+THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT
+
+A lovely girl, who has been reared among Mormons, learns to love a young
+New Englander. The Mormon religion, however, demands that the girl shall
+become the second wife of one of the Mormons--Well, that's the problem of
+this great story.
+
+THE SHORT STOP
+
+The young hero, tiring of his factory grind, starts out to win fame and
+fortune as a professional ball player. His hard knocks at the start are
+followed by such success as clean sportsmanship, courage and honesty
+ought to win.
+
+BETTY ZANE
+
+This story tells of the bravery and heroism of Betty, the beautiful young
+sister of old Colonel Zane, one of the bravest pioneers.
+
+THE LONE STAR RANGER
+
+After killing a man in self defense, Buck Duane becomes an outlaw along
+the Texas border. In a camp on the Mexican side of the river, he finds a
+young girl held prisoner, and in attempting to rescue her, brings down
+upon himself the wrath of her captors and henceforth is hunted on one
+side by honest men, on the other by outlaws.
+
+THE BORDER LEGION
+
+Joan Randle, in a spirit of anger, sent Jim Cleve out to a lawless
+Western mining camp, to prove his mettle. Then realizing that she loved
+him--she followed him out. On her way, she is captured by a bandit band,
+and trouble begins when she shoots Kells, the leader--and nurses him to
+health again. Here enters another romance--when Joan, disguised as an
+outlaw, observes Jim, in the throes of dissipation. A gold strike, a
+thrilling robbery--gambling and gun play carry you along breathlessly.
+
+THE LAST OF THE GREAT SCOUTS,
+
+By Helen Cody Wetmore and Zane Grey
+
+The life story of Colonel William F. Cody, "Buffalo Bill," as told by his
+sister and Zane Grey. It begins with his boyhood in Iowa and his first
+encounter with an Indian. We see "Bill" as a pony express rider, then
+near Fort Sumter as Chief of the Scouts, and later engaged in the most
+dangerous Indian campaigns. There is also a very interesting account of
+the travels of "The Wild West" Show. No character in public life makes a
+stronger appeal to the imagination of America than "Buffalo Bill," whose
+daring and bravery made him famous
+
+Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York
+
+      *      *      *      *      *      *
+
+B. M. Bower's Novels
+Thrilling Western Romances
+
+Large 12 mos. Handsomely bound in cloth. Illustrated
+
+
+CHIP, OF THE FLYING U
+
+A breezy wholesome tale, wherein the love affairs of Chip and Delia
+Whitman are charmingly and humorously told. Chip's jealousy of Dr. Cecil
+Grantham, who turns out to be a big, blue eyed young woman is very
+amusing. A clever, realistic story of the American Cow-puncher.
+
+THE HAPPY FAMILY
+
+A lively and amusing story, dealing with the adventures of eighteen
+jovial, big hearted Montana cowboys. Foremost amongst them, we find
+Ananias Green, known as Andy, whose imaginative powers cause many lively
+and exciting adventures.
+
+HER PRAIRIE KNIGHT
+
+A realistic story of the plains, describing a gay party of Easterners who
+exchange a cottage at Newport for the rough homeliness of a Montana
+ranch-house. The merry-hearted cowboys, the fascinating Beatrice, and the
+effusive Sir Redmond, become living, breathing personalities.
+
+THE RANGE DWELLERS
+
+Here are everyday, genuine cowboys, just as they really exist. Spirited
+action, a range feud between two families, and a Romeo and Juliet
+courtship make this a bright, jolly, entertaining story, without a dull
+page.
+
+THE LURE OF DIM TRAILS
+
+A vivid portrayal of the experience of an Eastern author, among the
+cowboys of the West, in search of "local color" for a new novel. "Bud"
+Thurston learns many a lesson while following "the lure of the dim
+trails" but the hardest, and probably the most welcome, is that of love.
+
+THE LONESOME TRAIL
+
+"Weary" Davidson leaves the ranch for Portland, where conventional city
+life palls on him. A little branch of sage brush, pungent with the
+atmosphere of the prairie, and the recollection of a pair of large brown
+eyes soon compel his return. A wholesome love story.
+
+THE LONG SHADOW
+
+A vigorous Western story, sparkling with the free, outdoor, life of a
+mountain ranch. Its scenes shift rapidly and its actors play the game of
+life fearlessly and like men. It is a fine love story from start to
+finish.
+
+Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction
+Grosset & Dunlap, 526 West 26th St., New York
+
+      *      *      *      *      *      *
+
+BOOTH TARKINGTON'S NOVELS
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
+
+SEVENTEEN. Illustrated by Arthur William Brown.
+
+No one but the creator of Penrod could have portrayed the immortal young
+people of this story. Its humor is irresistible and reminiscent of the
+time when the reader was Seventeen.
+
+PENROD. Illustrated by Gordon Grant.
+
+This is a picture of a boy's heart, full of the lovable, humorous, tragic
+things which are locked secrets to most older folks. It is a finished,
+exquisite work.
+
+PENROD AND SAM. Illustrated by Worth Brehm.
+
+Like "Penrod" and "Seventeen," this book contains some remarkable phases
+of real boyhood and some of the best stories of juvenile prankishness
+that have ever been written.
+
+THE TURMOIL. Illustrated by C. E. Chambers.
+
+Bibbs Sheridan is a dreamy, imaginative youth, who revolts against his
+father's plans for him to be a servitor of big business. The love of a
+fine girl turns Bibbs' life from failure to success.
+
+THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA. Frontispiece.
+
+A story of love and politics,--more especially a picture of a country
+editor's life in Indiana, but the charm of the book lies in the love
+interest.
+
+THE FLIRT. Illustrated by Clarence F. Underwood.
+
+The "Flirt," the younger of two sisters, breaks one girl's engagement,
+drives one man to suicide, causes the murder of another, leads another to
+lose his fortune, and in the end marries a stupid and unpromising suitor,
+leaving the really worthy one to marry her sister.
+
+Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction
+Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York
+
+      *      *      *      *      *      *
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP'S DRAMATIZED NOVELS
+
+THE KIND THAT ARE MAKING THEATRICAL HISTORY
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask far Grosset & Dunlap's list
+
+WITHIN THE LAW. By Bayard Veiller & Marvin Dana. Illustrated by Wm.
+Charles Cooke.
+
+This is a novelization of the immensely successful play which ran for two
+years in New York and Chicago.
+
+The plot of this powerful novel is of a young woman's revenge directed
+against her employer who allowed her to be sent to prison for three years
+on a charge of theft, of which she was innocent.
+
+WHAT HAPPENED TO MARY. By Robert Carlton Brown. Illustrated with scenes
+from the play.
+
+This is a narrative of a young and innocent country girl who is suddenly
+thrown into the very heart of New York, "the land of her dreams," where
+she is exposed to all sorts of temptations and dangers.
+
+The story of Mary is being told in moving pictures and played in theatres
+all over the world.
+
+THE RETURN OF PETER GRIMM. By David Belasco. Illustrated by John Rae.
+
+This is a novelization of the popular play in which David Warfield, as
+Old Peter Grimm, scored such a remarkable success.
+
+The story is spectacular and extremely pathetic but withal, powerful,
+both as a book and as a play.
+
+THE GARDEN OF ALLAH. By Robert Hichens.
+
+This novel is an intense, glowing epic of the great desert, sunlit
+barbaric, with its marvelous atmosphere of vastness and loneliness.
+
+It is a book of rapturous beauty, vivid in word painting. The play has
+been staged with magnificent cast and gorgeous properties.
+
+BEN HUR. A Tale of the Christ. By General Lew Wallace.
+
+The whole world has placed this famous Religious-Historical Romance on a
+height of pre-eminence which no other novel of its time has reached. The
+clashing of rivalry and the deepest human passions, the perfect
+reproduction of brilliant Roman life, and the tense, fierce atmosphere of
+the arena have kept their deep fascination. A tremendous dramatic
+success.
+
+BOUGHT AND PAID FOR. By George Broadhurst and Arthur Hornblow.
+Illustrated with scenes from the play.
+
+A stupendous arraignment of modern marriage which has created an interest
+on the stage that is almost unparalleled. The scenes are laid in New
+York, and deal with conditions among both the rich and poor.
+
+The interest of the story turns on the day-by-day developments which show
+the young wife the price she has paid.
+
+Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction
+Grosset & Dunlap, 526 West 26th St., New York
+
+      *      *      *      *      *      *
+
+THE NOVELS OF
+STEWART EDWARD WHITE
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
+
+THE BLAZED TRAIL. Illustrated by Thomas Fogarty.
+
+A wholesome story with gleams of humor, telling of a young man who blazed
+his way to fortune through the heart of the Michigan pines.
+
+THE CALL OF THE NORTH. Ills. with Scenes from the Play.
+
+The story centers about a Hudson Bay trading post, known as "The
+Conjuror's House" (the original title of the book.)
+
+THE RIVERMAN. Ills. by N. C. Wyeth and C. F. Underwood.
+
+The story of a man's fight against a river and of a struggle between
+honesty and grit on the one side, and dishonesty and shrewdness on the
+other.
+
+RULES OF THE GAME. Illustrated by Lejaren A. Hiller.
+
+The romance of the son of "The Riverman." The young college hero goes
+into the lumber camp, is antagonized by "graft," and comes into the
+romance of his life.
+
+GOLD. Illustrated by Thomas Fogarty.
+
+The gold fever of '49 is pictured with vividness. A part of the story is
+laid in Panama, the route taken by the gold-seekers.
+
+THE FOREST. Illustrated by Thomas Fogarty.
+
+The book tells of the canoe trip of the author and his companion into the
+great woods. Much information about camping and outdoor life. A splendid
+treatise on woodcraft.
+
+THE MOUNTAINS. Illustrated by Fernand Lungren.
+
+An account of the adventures of a five months' camping trip in the
+Sierras of California. The author has followed a true sequence of
+events.
+
+THE CABIN. Illustrated with photographs by the author.
+
+A chronicle of the building of a cabin home in a forest-girdled meadow of
+the Sierras. Full of nature and woodcraft, and the shrewd philosophy of
+"California John."
+
+THE GRAY DAWN. Illustrated by Thomas Fogarty.
+
+This book tells of the period shortly after the first mad rush for gold
+in California. A young lawyer and his wife, initiated into the gay life
+of San Francisco, find their ways parted through his downward course, but
+succeeding events bring the "gray dawn of better things" for both of
+them.
+
+Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction
+Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ODD NUMBERS***
+
+
+******* This file should be named 26528.txt or 26528.zip *******
+
+
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/6/5/2/26528
+
+
+
+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.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+https://www.gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+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
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at https://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit:
+https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  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:
+
+     https://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/26528.zip b/26528.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e3de70c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26528.zip
diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6312041
--- /dev/null
+++ b/LICENSE.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,11 @@
+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
+jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize
+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
diff --git a/README.md b/README.md
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..738ca36
--- /dev/null
+++ b/README.md
@@ -0,0 +1,2 @@
+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #26528 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/26528)