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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/31659-8.txt b/31659-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7712712 --- /dev/null +++ b/31659-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9819 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Side-stepping with Shorty, by Sewell Ford + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Side-stepping with Shorty + +Author: Sewell Ford + +Illustrator: Francis Vaux Wilson + +Release Date: March 15, 2010 [EBook #31659] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: THEY TACKLES ANYTHING I LEADS 'EM UP TO] + + + + + +Side-stepping + +with Shorty + + + +_By_ + + +Sewell Ford + + + +_Illustrated by_ + +_Francis Vaux Wilson_ + + + + +NEW YORK + +GROSSET & DUNLAP + +PUBLISHERS + + + + +_Copyright, 1908, by Mitchell Kennerley_ + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + I. SHORTY AND THE PLUTE + II. ROUNDING UP MAGGIE + III. UP AGAINST BENTLEY + IV. THE TORTONIS' STAR ACT + V. PUTTING PINCKNEY ON THE JOB + VI. THE SOARING OF THE SAGAWAS + VII. RINKEY AND THE PHONY LAMP + VIII. PINCKNEY AND THE TWINS + IX. A LINE ON PEACOCK ALLEY + X. SHORTY AND THE STRAY + XI. WHEN ROSSITER CUT LOOSE + XII. TWO ROUNDS WITH SYLVIE + XIII. GIVING BOMBAZOULA THE HOOK + XIV. A HUNCH FOR LANGDON + XV. SHORTY'S GO WITH ART + XVI. WHY WILBUR DUCKED + XVII. WHEN SWIFTY WAS GOING SOME + XVIII. PLAYING WILBUR TO SHOW + XIX. AT HOME WITH THE DILLONS + XX. THE CASE OF RUSTY QUINN + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + +THEY TACKLES ANYTHING I LEADS 'EM TO . . . . . . _Frontispiece_ + +THE TWINS ORGANIZE A GAME OF TAG + +"WE--E--E--OUGH! GLORY BE!" YELLS HANK, LETTIN' OUT AN EARSPLITTER + +HE HAS THE PO'TRY TAP TURNED ON FULL BLAST + + + + +I + +SHORTY AND THE PLUTE + +Notice any gold dust on my back? No? Well it's a wonder there ain't, +for I've been up against the money bags so close I expect you can find +eagle prints all over me. + +That's what it is to build up a rep. Looks like all the fat wads in +New York was gettin' to know about Shorty McCabe, and how I'm a sure +cure for everything that ails 'em. You see, I no sooner take hold of +one down and outer, sweat the high livin' out of him, and fix him up +like new with a private course of rough house exercises, than he passes +the word along to another; and so it goes. + +This last was the limit, though. One day I'm called to the 'phone by +some mealy mouth that wants to know if this is the Physical Culture +Studio. + +"Sure as ever," says I. + +"Well," says he, "I'm secretary to Mr. Fletcher Dawes." + +"That's nice," says I. "How's Fletch?" + +"Mr. Dawes," says he, "will see the professah at fawh o'clock this +awfternoon." + +"Is that a guess," says I, "or has he been havin' his fortune told?" + +"Who is this?" says the gent at the other end of the wire, real sharp +and sassy. + +"Only me," says I. + +"Well, who are you?" says he. + +"I'm the witness for the defence," says I. "I'm Professor McCabe, P. +C. D., and a lot more that I don't use on week days." + +"Oh!" says he, simmerin' down a bit. "This is Professor McCabe +himself, is it? Well, Mr. Fletcher Dawes requiahs youah services. You +are to repawt at his apartments at fawh o'clock this awfternoon--fawh +o'clock, understand?" + +"Oh, yes," says I. "That's as plain as a dropped egg on a plate of +hash. But say, Buddy; you tell Mr. Dawes that next time he wants me +just to pull the string. If that don't work, he can whistle; and when +he gets tired of whistlin', and I ain't there, he'll know I ain't +comin'. Got them directions? Well, think hard, and maybe you'll +figure it out later. Ta, ta, Mister Secretary." With that I hangs up +the receiver and winks at Swifty Joe. + +"Swifty," says I, "they'll be usin' us for rubber stamps if we don't +look out." + +"Who was the guy?" says he. + +"Some pinhead up to Fletcher Dawes's," says I. + +"Hully chee!" says Swifty. + +Funny, ain't it, how most everyone'll prick up their ears at that name? +And it don't mean so much money as John D.'s or Morgan's does, either. +But what them two and Harriman don't own is divided up among Fletcher +Dawes and a few others. Maybe it's because Dawes is such a free +spender that he's better advertised. Anyway, when you say Fletcher +Dawes you think of a red-faced gent with a fistful of thousand-dollar +bills offerin' to buy the White House for a stable. + +But say, he might have twice as much, and I wouldn't hop any quicker. +I'm only livin' once, and it may be long or short, but while it lasts I +don't intend to do the lackey act for anyone. + +Course, I thinks the jolt I gave that secretary chap closes the +incident. But around three o'clock that same day, though, I looks down +from the front window and sees a heavy party in a fur lined overcoat +bein' helped out of a shiny benzine wagon by a pie faced valet, and +before I'd done guessin' where they was headed for they shows up in the +office door. + +"My name is Dawes. Fletcher Dawes," says the gent in the overcoat. + +"I could have guessed that," says I. "You look somethin' like the +pictures they print of you in the Sunday papers." + +"I'm sorry to hear it," says he. + +But say, he's less of a prize hog than you'd think, come to get +near--forty-eight around the waist, I should say, and about a number +sixteen collar. You wouldn't pick him out by his face as the kind of a +man that you'd like to have holdin' a mortgage on the old homestead, +though, nor one you'd like to sit opposite to in a poker game--eyes +about a quarter of an inch apart, lima bean ears buttoned down close, +and a mouth like a crack in the pavement. + +He goes right at tellin' what he wants and when he wants it, sayin' +he's a little out of condition and thinks a few weeks of my trainin' +was just what he needed. Also he throws out that I might come up to +the Brasstonia and begin next day. + +"Yes?" says I. "I heard somethin' like that over the 'phone." + +"From Corson, eh?" says he. "He's an ass! Never mind him. You'll be +up to-morrow?" + +"Say," says I, "where'd you get the idea I went out by the day?" + +"Why," says he, "it seems to me I heard something about----" + +"Maybe they was personal friends of mine," says I. "That's different. +Anybody else comes here to see me." + +"Ah!" says he, suckin' in his breath through his teeth and levelin' +them blued steel eyes of his at me. "I suppose you have your price?" + +"No," says I; "but I'll make one, just special for you. It'll be ten +dollars a minute." + +Say, what's the use? We saves up till we gets a little wad of twenties +about as thick as a roll of absorbent cotton, and with what we got in +the bank and some that's lent out, we feel as rich as platter gravy. +Then we bumps up against a really truly plute, and gets a squint at his +dinner check, and we feels like panhandlers workin' a side street. +Honest, with my little ten dollars a minute gallery play, I thought I +was goin' to have him stunned. + +"That's satisfactory," says he. "To-morrow, at four." + +That's all. I'm still standin' there with my mouth open when he's +bein' tucked in among the tiger skins. And I'm bought up by the hour, +like a bloomin' he massage artist! Feel? I felt like I'd fit loose in +a gas pipe. + +But Swifty, who's had his ear stretched out and his eyes bugged all the +time, begins to do the walk around and look me over as if I was a new +wax figger in a museum. + +"Ten plunks a minute!" says he. "Hully chee!" + +"Ah, forget it!" says I. "D'ye suppose I want to be reminded that I've +broke into the bath rubber class? G'wan! Next time you see me prob'ly +I'll be wearin' a leather collar and a tag. Get the mitts on, you +South Brooklyn bridge rusher, and let me show you how I can hit before +I lose my nerve altogether!" + +Swifty says he ain't been used so rough since the time he took the +count from Cans; but it was a relief to my feelin's; and when he come +to reckon up that I'd handed him two hundred dollars' worth of punches +without chargin' him a red, he says he'd be proud to have me do it +every day. + +If it hadn't been that I'd chucked the bluff myself, I'd scratched the +Dawes proposition. But I ain't no hand to welch; so up I goes next +afternoon, with my gym. suit in a bag, and gets my first inside view of +the Brasstonia, where the plute hangs out. And say, if you think these +down town twenty-five-a-day joints is swell, you ought to get some +Pittsburg friend to smuggle you into one of these up town apartment +hotels that's run exclusively for trust presidents. Why, they don't +have any front doors at all. You're expected to come and go in your +bubble, but the rules lets you use a cab between certain hours. + +I tries to walk in, and was held up by a three hundred pound special +cop in grey and gold, and made to prove that I didn't belong in the +baggage elevator or the ash hoist. Then I'm shown in over the Turkish +rugs to a solid gold passenger lift, set in a velvet arm chair, and +shot up to the umpteenth floor. + +I was lookin' to find Mr. Dawes located in three or four rooms and +bath, but from what I could judge of the size of his ranch he must pay +by acreage instead of the square foot, for he has a whole wing to +himself. And as for hired help, they was standin' around in clusters, +all got up in baby blue and silver, with mugs as intelligent as so many +frozen codfish. Say, it would give me chillblains on the soul to have +to live with that gang lookin' on! + +I'm shunted from one to the other, until I gets to Dawes, and he leads +the way into a big room with rubber mats, punchin' bags, and all the +fixin's you could think of. + +"Will this do?" says he. + +"It'll pass," says I. "And if you'll chase out that bunch of +employment bureau left-overs, we'll get down to business." + +"But," says he, "I thought you might need some of my men to----" + +"I don't," says I, "and while you're mixin' it with me you won't, +either." + +At that he shoos 'em all out and shuts the door. I opens the window +so's to get in some air that ain't been strained and currycombed and +scented with violets, and then we starts to throw the shot bag around. +I find Fletcher is short winded and soft. He's got a bad liver and a +worse heart, for five or six years' trainin' on wealthy water and pâté +de foie gras hasn't done him any good. Inside of ten minutes he knows +just how punky he is himself, and he's ready to follow any directions I +lay down. + +As I'm leavin', a nice, slick haired young feller calls me over and +hands me an old rose tinted check. It was for five hundred and twenty. + +"Fifty-two minutes, professor," says he. + +"Oh, let that pyramid," says I, tossin' it back. + +Honest, I never shied so at money before, but somehow takin' that went +against the grain. Maybe it was the way it was shoved at me. + +I'd kind of got interested in the job of puttin' Dawes on his feet, +though, and Thursday I goes up for another session. Just as I steps +off the elevator at his floor I hears a scuffle, and out comes a couple +of the baby blue bunch, shoving along an old party with her bonnet +tilted over one ear. I gets a view of her face, though, and I sees +she's a nice, decent lookin' old girl, that don't seem to be either +tanked or batty, but just kind of scared. A Willie boy in a frock coat +was followin' along behind, and as they gets to me he steps up, grabs +her by the arm, and snaps out: + +"Now you leave quietly, or I'll hand you over to the police! +Understand?" + +That scares her worse than ever, and she rolls her eyes up to me in +that pleadin' way a dog has when he's been hurt. + +"Hear that?" says one of the baby blues, shakin' her up. + +My fingers went into bunches as sudden as if I'd touched a live wire, +but I keeps my arms down. "Ah, say!" says I. "I don't see any call +for the station-house drag out just yet. Loosen up there a bit, will +you?" + +"Mind your business!" says one of 'em, givin' me the glary eye. + +"Thanks," says I. "I was waitin' for an invite," and I reaches out and +gets a shut-off grip on their necks. It didn't take 'em long to loosen +up after that. + +"Here, here!" says the Willie that I'd spotted for Corson. "Oh, it's +you is it, professor?" + +"Yes, it's me," says I, still holdin' the pair at arms' length. +"What's the row?" + +"Why," says Corson, "this old woman----" + +"Lady," says I. + +"Aw--er--yes," says he. "She insists on fawcing her way in to see Mr. +Dawes." + +"Well," says I, "she ain't got no bag of dynamite, or anything like +that, has she?" + +"I just wanted a word with Fletcher," says she, buttin' in--"just a +word or two." + +"Friend of yours?" says I. + +"Why-- Well, we have known each other for forty years," says she. + +"That ought to pass you in," says I, + +"But she refuses to give her name," says Corson. + +"I am Mrs. Maria Dawes," says she, holdin' her chin up and lookin' him +straight between the eyes. + +"You're not on the list," says Corson. + +"List be blowed!" says I. "Say, you peanut head, can't you see this is +some relation? You ought to have sense enough to get a report from the +boss, before you carry out this quick bounce business. Perhaps you're +puttin' your foot in it, son." + +Then Corson weakens, and the old lady throws me a look that was as good +as a vote of thanks. And say, when she'd straightened her lid and +pulled herself together, she was as ladylike an old party as you'd want +to meet. There wa'n't much style about her, but she was dressed +expensive enough--furs, and silks, and sparks in her ears. Looked like +one of the sort that had been up against a long run of hard luck and +had come through without gettin' sour. + +While we was arguin', in drifts Mr. Dawes himself. I gets a glimpse of +his face when he first spots the old girl, and if ever I see a mouth +shut like a safe door, and a jaw stiffen as if it had turned to +concrete, his did. + +"What does this mean, Maria?" he says between his teeth. + +"I couldn't help it, Fletcher," says she. "I wanted to see you about +little Bertie." + +"Huh!" grunts Fletcher. "Well, step in this way. McCabe, you can come +along too." + +I wa'n't stuck on the way it was said, and didn't hanker for mixin' up +with any such reunions; but it didn't look like Maria had any too many +friends handy, so I trots along. When we're shut in, with the +draperies pulled, Mr. Dawes plants his feet solid, shoves his hands +down into his pockets, and looks Maria over careful. + +"Then you have lost the address of my attorneys?" says he, real frosty. + +That don't chill Maria at all. She acted like she was used to it. +"No," says she; "but I'm tired of talking to lawyers. I couldn't tell +them about Bertie, and how lonesome I've been without him these last +two years. Can't I have him, Fletcher?" + +About then I begins to get a glimmer of what it was all about, and by +the time she'd gone on for four or five minutes I had the whole story. +Maria was the ex-Mrs. Fletcher Dawes. Little Bertie was a grandson; +and grandma wanted Bertie to come and live with her in the big Long +Island place that Fletcher had handed her when he swapped her off for +one of the sextet, and settled up after the decree was granted. + +Hearin' that brought the whole thing back, for the papers printed pages +about the Daweses; rakin' up everything, from the time Fletcher run a +grocery store and lodgin' house out to Butte, and Maria helped him sell +flour and canned goods, besides makin' beds, and jugglin' pans, and +takin' in washin' on the side; to the day Fletcher euchred a prospector +out of the mine that gave him his start. + +"You were satisfied with the terms of the settlement, when it was +made," says Mr. Dawes. + +"I know," says she; "but I didn't think how badly I should miss Bertie. +That is an awful big house over there, and I am getting to be an old +woman now, Fletcher." + +"Yes, you are," says he, his mouth corners liftin' a little. "But +Bertie's in school, where he ought to be and where he is going to stay. +Anything more?" + +I looks at Maria. Her upper lip was wabblin' some, but that's all. +"No, Fletcher," says she. "I shall go now." + +She was just about startin', when there's music on the other side of +the draperies. It sounds like Corson was havin' his troubles with +another female. Only this one had a voice like a brass cornet, and she +was usin' it too. + +"Why can't I go in there?" says she. "I'd like to know why! Eh, +what's that? A woman in there?" + +And in she comes. She was a pippin, all right. As she yanks back the +curtain and rushes in she looks about as friendly as a spotted leopard +that's been stirred up with an elephant hook; but when she sizes up the +comp'ny that's present she cools off and lets go a laugh that gives us +an iv'ry display worth seein'. + +"Oh!" says she. "Fletchy, who's the old one?" + +Say, I expect Dawes has run into some mighty worryin' scenes before +now, havin' been indicted once or twice and so on, but I'll bet he +never bucked up against the equal of this before. He opens his mouth a +couple of times, but there don't seem to be any language on tap. The +missus was ready, though. + +"Maria Dawes is my name, my dear," says she. + +"Maria!" says the other one, lookin' some staggered. "Why--why, then +you--you're Number One!" + +Maria nods her head. + +Then Fletcher gets his tongue out of tangle. "Maria," says he, "this +is my wife, Maizie." + +"Yes?" says Maria, as gentle as a summer night. "I thought this must +be Maizie. You're very young and pretty, aren't you? I suppose you go +about a lot? But you must be careful of Fletcher. He always was +foolish about staying up too late, and eating things that hurt him. I +used to have to warn him against black coffee and welsh rabbits. He +will eat them, and then he has one of his bad spells. Fletcher is +fifty-six now, you know, and----" + +"Maria!" says Mr. Dawes, his face the colour of a boiled beet, "that's +enough of this foolishness! Here, Corson! Show this lady out!" + +"Yes, I was just going, Fletcher," says she. + +"Good-bye, Maria!" sings out Maizie, and then lets out another of her +soprano ha-ha's, holdin' her sides like she was tickled to death. +Maybe it was funny to her; it wa'n't to Fletcher. + +"Come, McCabe," says he; "we'll get to work." + +Say, I can hold in about so long, and then I've got to blow off or else +bust a cylinder head. I'd had about enough of this "Come, McCabe" +business, too. "Say, Fletchy," says I, "don't be in any grand rush. I +ain't so anxious to take you on as you seem to think." + +"What's that?" he spits out. + +"You keep your ears open long enough and you'll hear it all," says I; +for I was gettin' hotter an' hotter under the necktie. "I just want to +say that I've worked up a grouch against this job durin' the last few +minutes. I guess I'll chuck it up." + +That seemed to go in deep. Mr. Dawes, he brings his eyes together +until nothin' but the wrinkle keeps 'em apart, and he gets the hectic +flush on his cheek bones. "I don't understand," says he. + +"This is where I quit," says I. "That's all." + +"But," says he, "you must have some reason." + +"Sure," says I; "two of 'em. One's just gone out. That's the other," +and I jerks my thumb at Maizie. + +She'd been rollin' her eyes from me to Dawes, and from Dawes back to +me. "What does this fellow mean by that?" says Maizie. "Fletcher, why +don't you have him thrown out?" + +"Yes, Fletcher," says I, "why don't you? I'd love to be thrown out +just now!" + +Someway, Fletcher wasn't anxious, although he had lots of bouncers +standin' idle within call. He just stands there and looks at his toes, +while Maizie tongue lashes first me and then him. When she gets +through I picks up my hat. + +"So long, Fletchy," says I. "What work I put in on you the other day +I'm goin' to make you a present of. If I was you, I'd cash that check +and buy somethin' that would please Maizie." + + +"D'jer annex another five or six hundred up to the Brasstonia this +afternoon?" asks Swifty, when I gets back. + +"Nix," says I. "All I done was to organise a wife convention and get +myself disliked. That ten-a-minute deal is off. But say, Swifty, just +remember I've dodged makin' the bath rubber class, and I'm satisfied at +that." + + + + +II + +ROUNDING UP MAGGIE + +Say, who was tellin' you? Ah, g'wan! Them sea shore press agents is +full of fried eels. Disguises; nothin'! Them folks I has with me was +the real things. The Rev. Doc. Akehead? Not much. That was my little +old Bishop. And it wa'n't any slummin' party at all. It was just a +little errand of mercy that got switched. + +It was this way: The Bishop, he shows up at the Studio for his reg'lar +medicine ball work, that I'm givin' him so's he can keep his equator +from gettin' the best of his latitude. That's all on the quiet, +though. It's somethin' I ain't puttin' on the bulletin board, or +includin' in my list of references, understand? + +Well, we has had our half-hour session and the Bishop has just made a +break for the cold shower and the dressin' room, while I'm preparin' to +shed my workin' clothes for the afternoon; when in pops Swifty Joe, +closin' the gym. door behind him real soft and mysterious. + +"Shorty," says he in that hoarse whisper he gets on when he's excited, +"she's--she's come!" + +"Who's come?" says I. + +"S-s-sh!" says he, wavin' his hands. "It's the old girl; and she's got +a gun!" + +"Ah, say!" says I. "Come out of the trance. What old girl? And what +about the gun?" + +Maybe you've never seen Swifty when he's real stirred up? He wears a +corrugated brow, and his lower jaw hangs loose, leavin' the Mammoth +Cave wide open, and his eyes bug out like shoe buttons. His thoughts +come faster than he can separate himself from the words; so it's hard +gettin' at just what he means to say. But, as near as I can come to +it, there's a wide female party waitin' out in the front office for me, +with blood in her eye and a self cockin' section of the unwritten law +in her fist. + +Course, I knows right off there must be some mistake, or else it's a +case of dope, and I says so. But Swifty is plumb sure she knew who she +was askin' for when she calls for me, and begs me not to go out. He's +for ringin' up the police. + +"Ring up nobody!" says I. "S'pose I want this thing gettin' into the +papers? If a Lady Bughouse has strayed in here, we got to shoo her out +as quiet as possible. She can't shoot if we rush her. Come on!" + +I will say for Swifty Joe that, while he ain't got any too much sense, +there's no ochre streak in him. When I pulls open the gym. door and +gives the word, we went through neck and neck. + +"Look out!" he yells, and I sees him makin' a grab at the arm of a +broad beamed old party, all done up nicely in grey silk and white lace. + +And say, it's lucky I got a good mem'ry for profiles; for if I hadn't +seen right away it was Purdy Bligh's Aunt Isabella, and that the gun +was nothin' but her silver hearin' tube, we might have been tryin' to +explain it to her yet. As it is, I'm just near enough to make a swipe +for Swifty's right hand with my left, and I jerks his paw back just as +she turns around from lookin' out of the window and gets her lamps on +us. Say, we must have looked like a pair of batty ones, standin' there +holdin' hands and starin' at her! But it seems that folks as deaf as +she is ain't easy surprised. All she does is feel around her for her +gold eye glasses with one hand, and fit the silver hearin' machine to +her off ear with the other. It's one of these pepper box affairs, and +I didn't much wonder that Swifty took it for a gun. + +"Are you Professor McCabe?" says she. + +"Sure!" I hollers; and Swifty, not lookin' for such strenuous +conversation, goes up in the air about two feet. + +"I beg pardon," says the old girl; "but will you kindly speak into the +audiphone." + +So I steps up closer, forgettin' that I still has the clutch on Swifty, +and drags him along. + +"Ahr, chee!" says Swifty. "This ain't no brother act, is it?" + +With that I lets him go, and me and Aunt Isabella gets down to +business. I was lookin' for some tale about Purdy--tell you about him +some day--but it looks like this was a new deal; for she opens up by +askin' if I knew a party by the name of Dennis Whaley. + +"Do I?" says I. "I've known Dennis ever since I can remember knowin' +anybody. He's runnin' my place out to Primrose Park now." + +"I thought so," says Aunt Isabella. "Then perhaps you know a niece of +his, Margaret Whaley?" + +I didn't; but I'd heard of her. She's Terence Whaley's girl, that come +over from Skibbereen four or five years back, after near starvin' to +death one wet season when the potato crop was so bad. Well, it seems +Maggie has worked a couple of years for Aunt Isabella as kitchen girl. +Then she's got ambitious, quit service, and got a flatwork job in a +hand laundry--eight per, fourteen hours a day, Saturday sixteen. + +I didn't tumble why all this was worth chinnin' about until Aunt +Isabella reminds me that she's president and board of directors of the +Lady Pot Wrestlers' Improvement Society. She's one of the kind that +spends her time tryin' to organise study classes for hired girls who +have different plans for spendin' their Thursday afternoons off. + +Seems that Aunt Isabella has been keepin' special tabs on Maggie, +callin' at the laundry to give her good advice, and leavin' her books +to read,--which I got a tintype of her readin', not,--and otherwise +doin' the upliftin' act accordin' to rule. But along in the early +summer Maggie had quit the laundry without consultin' the old girl +about it. Aunt Isabella kept on the trail, though, run down her last +boardin' place, and begun writin' her what she called helpful letters. +She kept this up until she was handed the ungrateful jolt. The last +letter come back to her with a few remarks scribbled across the face, +indicatin' that readin' such stuff gave Maggie a pain in the small of +her back. But the worst of it all was, accordin' to Aunt Isabella, +that Maggie was in Coney Island. + +"Think of it!" says she. "That poor, innocent girl, living in that +dreadfully wicked place! Isn't it terrible?" + +"Oh, I don't know," says I. "It all depends." + +"Hey?" says the old girl. "What say?" + +Ever try to carry on a debate through a silver salt shaker? It's the +limit. Thinkin' it would be a lot easier to agree with her, I shouts +out, "Sure thing!" and nods my head. She nods back and rolls her eyes. + +"She must be rescued at once!" says Aunt Isabella. "Her uncle ought to +be notified. Can't you send for him?" + +As it happens, Dennis had come down that mornin' to see an old friend +of his that was due to croak; so I figures it out that the best way +would be to get him and the old lady together and let 'em have it out. +I chases Swifty down to West 11th-st. to bring Dennis back in a hurry, +and invites Aunt Isabella to make herself comfortable until he comes. + +She's too excited to sit down, though. She goes pacin' around the +front office, now and then lookin' me over suspicious,--me bein' still +in my gym. suit,--and then sizin' up the sportin' pictures on the wall. +My art exhibit is mostly made up of signed photos of Jeff and Fitz and +Nelson in their ring costumes, and it was easy to see she's some jarred. + +"I hope this is a perfectly respectable place, young man," says she. + +"It ain't often pulled by the cops," says I. + +Instead of calmin' her down, that seems to stir her up worse'n ever. +"I should hope not!" says she. "How long must I wait here?" + +"No longer'n you feel like waitin', ma'am," says I. + +And just then the gym. door opens, and in walks the Bishop, that I'd +clean forgot all about. + +"Why, Bishop!" squeals Aunt Isabella. "You here!" + +Say, it didn't need any second sight to see that the Bishop would have +rather met 'most anybody else at that particular minute; but he hands +her the neat return. "It appears that I am," says he. "And you?" + +Well, it was up to her to do the explainin'. She gives him the whole +history of Maggie Whaley, windin' up with how she's been last heard +from at Coney Island. + +"Isn't it dreadful, Bishop?" says she. "And can't you do something to +help rescue her?" + +Now I was lookin' for the Bishop to say somethin' soothin'; but hanged +if he don't chime in and admit that it's a sad case and he'll do what +he can to help. About then Swifty shows up with Dennis, and Aunt +Isabella lays it before him. Now, accordin' to his own account, Dennis +and Terence always had it in for each other at home, and he never took +much stock in Maggie, either. But after he'd listened to Aunt Isabella +for a few minutes, hearin' her talk about his duty to the girl, and how +she ought to be yanked off the toboggan of sin, he takes it as serious +as any of 'em. + +"Wurrah, wurrah!" says he, "but this do be a black day for the Whaleys! +It's the McGuigan blood comin' out in her. What's to be done, mum?" + +Aunt Isabella has a program all mapped out. Her idea is to get up a +rescue expedition on the spot, and start for Coney. She says Dennis +ought to go; for he's Maggie's uncle and has got some authority; and +she wants the Bishop, to do any prayin' over her that may be needed. + +"As for me," says she, "I shall do my best to persuade her to leave her +wicked companions." + +Well, they was all agreed, and ready to start, when it comes out that +not one of the three has ever been to the island in their lives, and +don't know how to get there. At that I sees the Bishop lookin' +expectant at me. + +"Shorty," says he, "I presume you are somewhat familiar with +this--er--wicked resort?" + +"Not the one you're talkin' about," says I. "I've been goin' to Coney +every year since I was old enough to toddle; and I'll admit there has +been seasons when some parts of it was kind of tough; but as a general +proposition it never looked wicked to me." + +That kind of puzzles the Bishop. He says he's always understood that +the island was sort of a vent hole for the big sulphur works. Aunt +Isabella is dead sure of it too, and hints that maybe I ain't much of a +judge. Anyway, she thinks I'd be a good guide for a place of that +kind, and prods the Bishop on to urge me to go. + +"Well," says I, "just for a flier, I will." + +So, as soon as I've changed my clothes, we starts for the iron +steamboats, and plants ourselves on the upper deck. And say, we was a +sporty lookin' bunch--I don't guess! There was the Bishop, in his +little flat hat and white choker,--you couldn't mistake what he +was,--and Aunt Isabella, with her grey hair and her grey and white +costume, lookin' about as giddy as a marble angel on a tombstone. Then +there's Dennis, who has put on the black whip cord Prince Albert he +always wears when he's visitin' sick friends or attendin' funerals. +The only festive lookin' point about him was the russet coloured throat +hedge he wears in place of a necktie. + +Honest, I felt sorry for them suds slingers that travels around the +deck singin' out, "Who wants the waiter?" Every time one would come +our way he'd get as far as "Who wants----" and then he'd switch off +with an "Ah, chee!" and go away disgusted. + +All the way down, the old girl has her eye out for wickedness. The +sight of Adolph, the grocery clerk, dippin' his beak into a mug of +froth, moves her to sit up and give him the stony glare; while a +glimpse of a young couple snugglin' up against each other along the +rail almost gives her a spasm. + +"Such brazen depravity!" says she to the Bishop. + +By the time we lands at the iron pier she has knocked Coney so much +that I has worked up a first class grouch. + +"Come on!" says I. "Let's have Maggie's address and get through with +this rescue business before all you good folks is soggy with sin." + +Then it turns out she ain't got any address at all. The most she knows +is that Maggie's somewhere on the island. + +"Well," I shouts into the tube, "Coney's something of a place, you see! +What's your idea of findin' her?" + +"We must search," says Aunt Isabella, prompt and decided. + +"Mean to throw out a regular drag net?" says I. + +She does. Well, say, if you've ever been to Coney on a good day, when +there was from fifty to a hundred thousand folks circulatin' about, +you've got some notion of what a proposition of that kind means. +Course, I wa'n't goin to tackle the job with any hope of gettin' away +with it; but right there I'm struck with a pleasin' thought. + +"Do I gather that I'm to be the Commander Peary of this expedition?" +says I. + +It was a unanimous vote that I was. + +"Well," says I, "you know you can't carry it through on hot air. It +takes coin to get past the gates in this place." + +Aunt Isabella says she's prepared to stand all the expense. And what +do you suppose she passes out? A green five! + +"Ah, say, this ain't any Sunday school excursion," says I. "Why, that +wouldn't last us a block. Guess you'll have to dig deeper or call it +off." + +She was game, though. She brings up a couple of tens next dip, the +Bishop adds two more, and I heaves in one on my own hook. + +"Now understand," says I, "if I'm headin' this procession there mustn't +be any hangin' back or arguin' about the course. Coney's no place for +a quitter, and there's some queer corners in it; but we're lookin' for +a particular party, so we can't skip any. Follow close, don't ask me +fool questions, and everybody keep their eye skinned for Maggie. Is +that clear?" + +They said it was. + +"Then we're off in a bunch. This way!" says I. + +Say, it was almost too good to be true. I hadn't more'n got 'em inside +of Dreamland before they has their mouths open and their eyes popped, +and they was so rattled they didn't know whether they was goin' up or +comin' down. The Bishop grabs me by the elbow, Aunt Isabella gets a +desperate grip on his coat tails, and Dennis hooks two fingers into the +back of her belt. When we lines up like that we has the fat woman +takin' her first camel ride pushed behind the screen. The barkers out +in front of the dime attractions takes one look at us and loses their +voices for a whole minute--and it takes a good deal to choke up one of +them human cyclones. I gives 'em back the merry grin and blazes ahead. + +First thing I sees that looks good is the wiggle-waggle brass +staircase, where half of the steps goes up as the other comes down. + +"Now, altogether!" says I, feedin' the coupons to the ticket man, and I +runs 'em up against the liver restorer at top speed. Say that +exhibition must have done the rubbernecks good! First we was all +jolted up in a heap, then we was strung out like a yard of +frankfurters; but I kept 'em at it until we gets to the top. Aunt +Isabella has lost her breath and her bonnet has slid over one ear, the +Bishop is red in the face, and Dennis is puffin' like a freight engine. + +"No Maggie here," says I. "We'll try somewhere else." + +No. 2 on the event card was the water chutes, and while we was slidin' +up on the escalator they has a chance to catch their wind. They didn't +get any more'n they needed though; for just as Aunt Isabella has +started to ask the platform man if he'd seen anything of Maggie Whaley, +a boat comes up on the cogs, and I yells for 'em to jump in quick. The +next thing they knew we was scootin' down that slide at the rate of a +hundred miles an hour, with three of us holdin' onto our hats, and one +lettin' out forty squeals to the minute. + +"O-o-o o-o-o!" says Aunt Isabella, as we hits the water and does the +bounding bounce. + +"That's right," says I; "let 'em know you're here. It's the style." + +Before they've recovered from the chute ride I've hustled 'em over to +one of them scenic railroads, where you're yanked up feet first a +hundred feet or so, and then shot down through painted canvas mountains +for about a mile. Say, it was a hummer, too! I don't know what there +is about travellin' fast; but it always warms up my blood, and about +the third trip I feels like sendin' out yelps of joy. + +Course, I didn't expect it would have any such effect on the Bishop; +but as we went slammin' around a sharp corner I gets a look at his +face. And would you believe it, he's wearin' a reg'lar breakfast food +grin! Next plunge we take I hears a whoop from the back seat, and I +knows that Dennis has caught it, too. + +I was afraid maybe the old girl has fainted; but when we brings up at +the bottom and I has a chance to turn around, I finds her still +grippin' the car seat, her feet planted firm, and a kind of wild, +reckless look in her eyes. + +"We did that last lap a little rapid," says I. "Maybe we ought to +cover the ground again, just to be sure we didn't miss Maggie. How +about repeatin' eh?" + +"I--I wouldn't mind," says she. + +"Good!" says I. "Percy, send her off for another spiel." + +And we encores the performance, with Dennis givin' the Donnybrook call, +and the smile on the Bishop's face growin' wider and wider. Fun? I've +done them same stunts with a gang of real sporting men, and, never had +the half of it. + +After that my crowd was ready for anything. They forgets all about the +original proposition, and tackles anything I leads them up to, from +bumpin' the bumps to ridin' down in the tubs on the tickler. When we'd +got through with Dreamland and the Steeplechase, we wanders down the +Bowery and hits up some hot dog and green corn rations. + +By the time I gets ready to lead them across Surf-ave. to Luna Park it +was dark, and about a million incandescents had been turned on. Well, +you know the kind of picture they gets their first peep at. Course, +it's nothin' but white stucco and gold leaf and electric light, with +the blue sky beyond. But say, first glimpse you get, don't it knock +your eye out? + +"Whist!" says Dennis, gawpin' up at the front like lie meant to swallow +it. "Is ut the Blessed Gates we're comin' to?" + +"Magnificent!" says the Bishop. + +And just then Aunt Isabella gives a gasp and sings out, "Maggie!" + +Well, as Dennis says afterwards, in tellin' Mother Whaley about it, +"Glory be, would yez think ut? I hears her spake thot name, and up I +looks, and as I'm a breathin' man, there sits Maggie Whaley in a solid +goold chariot all stuck with jools, her hair puffed out like a crown, +and the very neck of her blazin' with pearls and di'monds. Maggie +Whaley, mind ye, the own daughter of Terence, that's me brother; and +her the boss of a place as big as the houses of parli'ment and finer +than Windsor castle on the King's birthday!" + +It was Maggie all right. She was sittin' in a chariot too--you've seen +them fancy ticket booths they has down to Luna. And she has had her +hair done up by an upholsterer, and put through a crimpin' machine. +That and the Brazilian near-gem necklace she wears does give her a kind +of a rich and fancy look, providin' you don't get too close. + +She wasn't exactly bossin' the show. She was sellin' combination +tickets, that let you in on so many rackets for a dollar. She'd +chucked the laundry job for this, and she was lookin' like she was glad +she'd made the shift. But here was four of us who'd come to rescue her +and lead her back to the ironin' board. + +Aunt Isabella makes the first break. She tells Maggie who she is and +why she's come. "Margaret," says she, "I do hope you will consent to +leave this wicked life. Please say you will, Margaret!" + +"Ah, turn it off!" says Maggie. "Me back to the sweat box at eight per +when I'm gettin' fourteen for this? Not on your ping pongs! Fade, +Aunty, fade!" + +Then the Bishop is pushed up to take his turn. He says he is glad to +meet Maggie, and hopes she likes her new job. Maggie says she does. +She lets out, too, that she's engaged to the gentleman what does a +refined acrobatic specialty in the third attraction on the left, and +that when they close in the fall he's goin' to coach her up so's they +can do a double turn in the continuous houses next winter at from sixty +to seventy-five per, each. So if she ever irons another shirt, it'll +be just to show that she ain't proud. + +And that's where the rescue expedition goes out of business with a low, +hollow plunk. Among the three of 'em not one has a word left to say. + +"Well, folks," says I, "what are we here for? Shall we finish the +evenin' like we begun? We're only alive once, you know, and this is +the only Coney there is. How about it?" + +Did we? Inside of two minutes Maggie has sold us four entrance +tickets, and we're headed for the biggest and wooziest thriller to be +found in the lot. + +"Shorty," says the Bishop, as we settles ourselves for a ride home on +the last boat, "I trust I have done nothing unseemly this evening." + +"What! You?" says I. "Why, Bishop, you're a reg'lar ripe old sport; +and any time you feel like cuttin' loose again, with Aunt Isabella or +without, just send in a call for me." + + + + +III + +UP AGAINST BENTLEY + +Say, where's Palopinto, anyway? Well neither did I. It's somewhere +around Dallas, but that don't help me any. Texas, eh? You sure don't +mean it! Why, I thought there wa'n't nothin' but one night stands down +there. But this Palopinto ain't in that class at all. Not much! It's +a real torrid proposition. No, I ain't been there; but I've been up +against Bentley, who has. + +He wa'n't mine, to begin with. I got him second hand. You see, he +come along just as I was havin' a slack spell. Mr. Gordon--yes, +Pyramid Gordon--he calls up on the 'phone and says he's in a hole. +Seems he's got a nephew that's comin' on from somewhere out West to +take a look at New York, and needs some one to keep him from fallin' +off Brooklyn Bridge. + +"How's he travellin'," says I; "tagged, in care of the conductor?" + +"Oh, no," says Mr. Gordon. "He's about twenty-two, and able to take +care of himself anywhere except in a city like this." Then he wants to +know how I'm fixed for time. + +"I got all there is on the clock," says I. + +"And would you be willing to try keeping Bentley out of mischief until +I get back?" says he. + +"Sure as ever," says I. "I don't s'pose he's any holy terror; is he?" + +Pyramid said he wa'n't quite so bad as that. He told me that Bentley'd +been brought up on a big cattle ranch out there, and that now he was +boss. + +"He's been making a lot of money recently, too," says Mr. Gordon, "and +he insists on a visit East. Probably he will want to let New York know +that he has arrived, but you hold him down." + +"Oh, I'll keep him from liftin' the lid, all right," says I. + +"That's the idea, Shorty," says he. "I'll write a note telling him all +about you, and giving him a few suggestions." + +I had a synopsis of Bentley's time card, so as soon's he'd had a chance +to open up his trunk and wash off some of the car dust I was waitin' at +the desk in the Waldorf. + +Now of course, bein' warned ahead, and hearin' about this cattle ranch +business, I was lookin' for a husky boy in a six inch soft-brim and +leather pants. I'd calculated on havin' to persuade him to take off +his spurs and leave his guns with the clerk. + +But what steps out of the elevator and answers to the name of Bentley +is a Willie boy that might have blown in from Asbury Park or Far +Rockaway. He was draped in a black and white checked suit that you +could broil a steak on, with the trousers turned up so's to show the +openwork silk socks, and the coat creased up the sides like it was made +over a cracker box. His shirt was a MacGregor plaid, and the band +around his Panama was a hand width Roman stripe. + +"Gee!" thinks I, "if that's the way cow boys dress nowadays, no wonder +there's scandals in the beef business!" + +But if you could forget his clothes long enough to size up what was in +'em, you could see that Bentley was a mild enough looker. There's lots +of bank messengers and brokers' clerks just like him comin' over from +Brooklyn and Jersey every mornin'. He was about five feet eight, and +skimpy built, and he had one of these recedin' faces that looked like +it was tryin' to get away from his nose. + +But then, it ain't always the handsome boys that behaves the best, and +the more I got acquainted with Bentley, the better I thought of him. +He said he was mighty glad I showed up instead of Mr. Gordon. + +"Uncle Henry makes me weary," says he. "I've just been reading a +letter from him, four pages, and most of it was telling me what not to +do. And this the first time I was ever in New York since I've been old +enough to remember!" + +"You'd kind of planned to see things, eh?" says I. + +"Why, yes," says Bentley. "There isn't much excitement out on the +ranch, you know. Of course, we ride into Palopinto once or twice a +month, and sometimes take a run up to Dallas; but that's not like +getting to New York." + +"No," says I. "I guess you're able to tell the difference between this +burg and them places you mention, without lookin' twice. What is +Dallas, a water tank stop?" + +"It's a little bigger'n that," says he, kind of smilin'. + +But he was a nice, quiet actin' youth; didn't talk loud, nor go through +any tough motions. I see right off that I'd been handed the wrong set +of specifications, and I didn't lose any time framin' him up accordin' +to new lines. I knew his kind like a book. You could turn him loose +in New York for a week, and the most desperate thing he'd find to do +would be smokin' cigarettes on the back seat of a rubberneck waggon. +And yet he'd come all the way from the jumpin' off place to have a +little innocent fun. + +"Uncle Henry wrote me," says he, "that while I'm here I'd better take +in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and visit St. Patrick's Cathedral +and Grant's Tomb. But say, I'd like something a little livelier than +that, you know." + +He was so mild about it that I works up enough sympathy to last an S. +P. C. A. president a year. I could see just what he was achin' for. +It wa'n't a sight of oil paintin's or churches. He wanted to be able +to go back among the flannel shirts and tell the boys tales that would +make their eyes stick out. He was ambitious to go on a regular cut up, +but didn't know how, and wouldn't have had the nerve to tackle it alone +if he had known. + +Now, I ain't ever done any red light pilotin', and didn't have any +notion of beginnin' then, especially with a youngster as nice and green +as Bentley; but right there and then I did make up my mind that I'd +steer him up against somethin' more excitin' than a front view of Grace +Church at noon. It was comin' to him. + +"See here, Bentley," says I, "I've passed my word to kind of look after +you, and keep you from rippin' things up the back here in little old +New York; but seein' as this is your first whack at it, if you'll +promise to stop when I say 'Whoa!' and not let on about it afterwards +to your Uncle Henry, I'll just show you a few things that they don't +have out West," and I winks real mysterious. + +"Oh, will you?" says Bentley. "By ginger! I'm your man!" + +So we starts out lookin' for the menagerie. It was all I could do, +though, to keep my eyes off'm that trousseau of his. + +"They don't build clothes like them in Palopinto, do they?" says I. + +"Oh, no," says Bentley. "I stopped off in Chicago and got this outfit. +I told them I didn't care what it cost, but I wanted the latest." + +"I guess you got it," says I. "That's what I'd call a night edition, +base ball extra. You mustn't mind folks giraffin' at you. They always +do that to strangers." + +Bentley didn't mind. Fact is, there wa'n't much that did seem to faze +him a whole lot. He'd never rode in the subway before, of course, but +he went to readin' the soaps ads just as natural as if he lived in +Harlem. I expect that was what egged me on to try and get a rise out +of him. You see, when they come in from the rutabaga fields and the +wheat orchards, we want 'em to open their mouths and gawp. If they do, +we give 'em the laugh; but if they don't, we feel like they was +throwin' down the place. So I lays out to astonish Bentley. + +First I steers him across Mulberry Bend and into a Pell-st. chop suey +joint that wouldn't be runnin' at all if it wa'n't for the Sagadahoc +and Elmira folks the two dollar tourin' cars bring down. With all the +Chinks gabblin' around outside, though, and the funny, letterin' on the +bill of fare, I thought that would stun him some. He just looked +around casual, though, and laid into his suey and rice like it was a +plate of ham-and, not even askin' if he couldn't buy a pair of +chopsticks as a souvenir. + +"There's a bunch of desperate characters," says I, pointin' to a table +where a gang of Park Row compositors was blowin' themselves to a +platter of chow-ghi-sumen. + +"Yes?" says he. + +"There's Chuck Connors, and Mock Duck, and Bill the Brute, and One Eyed +Mike!" I whispers. + +"I'm glad I saw them," says Bentley. + +"We'll take a sneak before the murderin' begins," say I. "Maybe you'll +read about how many was killed, in the mornin' papers." + +"I'll look for it," says he. + +Say, it was discouragin'. We takes the L up to 23rd and goes across +and up the east side of Madison Square. + +"There," says I, pointin' out the Manhattan Club, that's about as +lively as the Subtreasury on a Sunday, "that's Canfield's place. We'd +go in and see 'em buck the tiger, only I got a tip that Bingham's goin' +to pull it to-night. That youngster in the straw hat just goin' in is +Reggie." + +"Well, well!" says Bentley. + +Oh, I sure did show Bentley a lot of sights that evenin', includin' a +wild tour through the Tenderloin--in a Broadway car. We winds up at a +roof garden, and, just to give Bentley an extra shiver, I asks the +waiter if we wa'n't sittin' somewhere near the table that Harry and +Evelyn had the night he was overcome by emotional insanity. + +"You're at the very one, sir," he says. Considerin' we was ten blocks +away, he was a knowin' waiter. + +"This identical table; hear that, Bentley?" says I. + +"You don't say!" says he. + +"Let's have a bracer," says I. "Ever drink a soda cocktail, Bentley?" + +He said he hadn't. + +"Then bring us two, real stiff ones," says I. You know how they're +made--a dash of bitters, a spoonful of bicarbonate, and a bottle of +club soda, all stirred up in a tall glass, almost as intoxicatin' as +buttermilk. + +"Don't make your head dizzy, does it?" says I. + +"A little," says Bentley; "but then, I'm not used to mixed drinks. We +take root beer generally, when we're out on a tear." + +"You cow boys must be a fierce lot when you're loose," says I. + +Bentley grinned, kind of reminiscent. "We do raise the Old Harry once +in awhile," says he. "The last time we went up to Dallas I drank three +different kinds of soda water, and we guyed a tamale peddler so that a +policeman had to speak to us." + +Say! what do you think of that? Wouldn't that freeze your blood? + +Once I got him started, Bentley told me a lot about life on the ranch; +how they had to milk and curry down four thousand steers every night; +and about their playin' checkers at the Y. M. C. A. branch evenin's, +and throwin' spit balls at each other durin' mornin' prayers. I'd +always thought these stage cow boys was all a pipe dream, but I never +got next to the real thing before. + +It was mighty interestin', the way he told it, too. They get prizes +for bein' polite to each other durin' work hours, and medals for +speakin' gentle to the cows. Bentley said he had four of them medals, +but he hadn't worn 'em East for fear folks would think he was proud. +That gave me a line on where he got his quiet ways from. It was the +trainin' he got on the ranch. He said it was grand, too, when a crowd +of the boys came ridin' home from town, sometimes as late as eleven +o'clock at night, to hear 'em singin' "Onward, Christian Soldier" and +tunes like that. + +"I expect you do have a few real tough citizens out that way, though," +says I. + +"Yes," said he, speakin' sad and regretful, "once in awhile. There was +one came up from Las Vegas last Spring, a low fellow that they called +Santa Fe Bill. He tried to start a penny ante game, but we discouraged +him." + +"Run him off the reservation, eh?" says I. + +"No," says Bentley, "we made him give up his ticket to our annual +Sunday school picnic. He was never the same after that." + +Well, say, I had it on the card to blow Bentley to a Welsh rabbit after +the show, at some place where he could get a squint at a bunch of our +night bloomin' summer girls, but I changed the program. I took him +away durin' intermission, in time to dodge the new dancer that Broadway +was tryin' hard to be shocked by, and after we'd had a plate of ice +cream in one of them celluloid papered all-nights, I led Bentley back +to the hotel and tipped a bell hop a quarter to tuck him in bed. + +Somehow, I didn't feel just right about the way I'd been stringin' +Bentley. I hadn't started out to do it, either; but he took things in +so easy, and was so willin' to stand for anything, that I couldn't keep +from it. And it did seem a shame that he must go back without any tall +yarns to spring. Honest, I was so twisted up in my mind, thinkin' +about Bentley, that I couldn't go to sleep, so I sat out on the front +steps of the boardin' house for a couple of hours, chewin' it all over. +I was just thinkin' of telephonin' to the hotel chaplain to call on +Bentley in the mornin', when me friend Barney, the rounds, comes along. + +"Say, Shorty," says he, "didn't I see you driftin' around town earlier +in the evenin' with a young sport in mornin' glory clothes?" + +"He was no sport," says I. "That was Bentley. He's a Y. M. C. A. lad +in disguise." + +"It's a grand disguise," says Barney. "Your quiet friend is sure +livin' up to them clothes." + +"You're kiddin'," says I. "It would take a live one to do credit to +that harness. When I left Bentley at half-past ten he was in the +elevator on his way up to bed." + +"I don't want to meet any that's more alive than your Bentley," says +he. "There must have been a hole in the roof. Anyway, he shows up on +my beat about eleven, picks out a swell café, butts into a party of +soubrettes, flashes a thousand dollar bill, and begins to buy wine for +everyone in sight. Inside of half an hour he has one of his new made +lady friends doin' a high kickin' act on the table, and when the +manager interferes Bentley licks two waiters to a standstill and does +up the house detective with a chair. Why, I has to get two of my men +to help me gather him in. You can find him restin' around to the +station house now." + +"Barney," says I, "you must be gettin' colour blind. That can't be +Bentley." + +"You go around and take a look at him," says he. + +Well, just to satisfy Barney, I did. And say, it was Bentley, all +right! He was some mussed, but calm and contented. + +"Bentley," says I, reprovin' like, "you're a bird, you are! How did it +happen? Did some one drug you?" + +"Guess that ice cream must have gone to my head," says he, grinnin'. + +"Come off!" says I. "I've had a report on you, and from what you've +got aboard you ought to be as full as a goat." + +He wa'n't, though. He was as sober as me, and that after absorbin' a +quart or so of French foam. + +"If I can fix it so's to get you out on bail," says I, "will you quit +this red paint business and be good?" + +"G'wan!" says he. "I'd rather stay here than go around with you any +more. You put me asleep, you do, and I can get all the sleep I want +without a guide. Chase yourself!" + +I was some sore on Bentley by that time; but I went to court the next +mornin', when he paid his fine and was turned adrift. I starts in with +some good advice, but Bentley shuts me off quick. + +"Cut it out!" says he. "New York may seem like a hot place to Rubes +like you; but you can take it from me that, for a pure joy producer, +Palopinto has got it burned to a blister. Why, there's more doing on +some of our back streets than you can show up on the whole length of +Broadway. No more for me! I'm goin' back where I can spend my money +and have my fun without bein' stopped and asked to settle before I've +hardly got started." + +He was dead in earnest, too. He'd got on a train headed West before I +comes out of my dream. Then I begins to see a light. It was a good +deal of a shock to me when it did come, but I has to own up that +Bentley was a ringer. All that talk about mornin' prayers and Sunday +school picnics was just dope, and while I was so busy dealin' out josh, +to him, he was handin' me the lemon. + +My mouth was still puckered and my teeth on edge, when Mr. Gordon gets +me on the 'phone and wants to know how about Bentley. + +"He's come and gone," says I. + +"So soon?" says he. "I hope New York wasn't too much for him." + +"Not at all," says I; "he was too much for New York. But while you was +givin' him instructions, why didn't you tell him to make a noise like a +hornet? It might have saved me from bein' stung." + +Texas, eh? Well, say, next time I sees a map of that State I'm goin' +to hunt up Palopinto and draw a ring around it with purple ink. + + + + +IV + +THE TORTONIS' STAR ACT + +What I was after was a souse in the Sound; but say, I never know just +what's goin' to happen to me when I gets to roamin' around Westchester +County! + +I'd started out from Primrose Park to hoof it over to a little beach a +ways down shore, when along comes Dominick with his blue dump cart. +Now, Dominick's a friend of mine, and for a foreigner he's the most +entertainin' cuss I ever met. I like talkin' with him. He can make +the English language sound more like a lullaby than most of your high +priced opera singers; and as for bein' cheerful, why, he's got a pair +of eyes like sunny days. + +Course, he wears rings in his ears, and likely a seven inch knife down +the back of his neck. He ain't perfumed with violets either, when you +get right close to; but the ash collectin' business don't call for +_peau d'Espagne_, does it? + +"Hallo!" says Dominick. "You lika ride?" + +Well, I can't say I'm stuck on bein' bounced around in an ash chariot; +but I knew Dominick meant well, so in I gets. We'd been joltin' along +for about four blocks, swappin' pigeon toed conversation, when there +shows up on the road behind us the fanciest rig I've seen outside of a +circus. In front, hitched up tandem, was a couple of black and white +patchwork ponies that looked like they'd broke out of a sportin' print. +Say, with their shiny hoofs and yeller harness, it almost made your +eyes ache to look at 'em. But the buggy was part of the picture, too. +It was the dizziest ever--just a couple of upholstered settees, +balanced back to back on a pair of rubber tired wheels, with the whole +shootin' match, cushions and all, a blazin' turkey red. + +On the nigh side was a coachman, with his bandy legs cased in white +pants and yeller topped boots; and on the other--well, say! you talk +about your polka dot symphonies! Them spots was as big as quarters, +and those in the parasol matched the ones in her dress. + +I'd been gawpin' at the outfit a couple of minutes before I could see +anything but the dots, and then all of a sudden I tumbles that it's +Sadie. She finds me about the same time, and jabs her sun shade into +the small of the driver's back, to make him pull up. I tells Dominick +to haul in, too, but his old skate is on his hind legs, with his ears +pointed front, wakin' up for the first time in five years, so I has to +drop out over the tail board. + +"Well, what do you think of the rig?" says Sadie. + +"I guess me and Dominick's old crow bait has about the same thoughts +along that line," says I. "Can you blame us?" + +"It is rather giddy, isn't it?" says she. + +"'Most gave me the blind staggers," says I. "You ought to distribute +smoked glasses along the route of procession. Did you buy it some dark +night, or was it made to order after somethin' you saw in a dream?" + +"The idea!" says Sadie. "This jaunting car is one I had sent over from +Paris, to help my ponies get a blue ribbon at the Hill'n'dale horse +show. And that's what it did, too." + +"Blue ribbon!" says I. "The judges must have been colour blind." + +"Oh, I don't know," says Sadie, stickin' her tongue out at me. "After +that I've a good notion to make you walk." + +"I don't know as I'd have nerve enough to ride in that, anyway," says +I. "Is it a funeral you're goin' to?" + +"Next thing to it," says she. "But come on, Shorty; get aboard and +I'll tell you all about it." + +So I steps up alongside the spotted silk, and the driver lets the +ponies loose. Say, it was like ridin' sideways in a roller coaster. + +Sadie said she was awful glad to see me just then. She had a job on +hand that she hated to do, and she needed some one to stand in her +corner and cheer her up while she tackled it. Seems she'd got rash a +few days before and made a promise to lug the Duke and Duchess of +Kildee over to call on the Wigghorns. Sadie'd been actin' as sort of +advance agent for Their Dukelets durin' their splurge over here, and +Mrs. Wigghorn had mesmerised her into makin' a date for a call. This +was the day. + +It would have gone through all right if some one hadn't put the Duke +wise to what he was up against. Maybe you know about the Wigghorns? +Course, they've got the goods, for about a dozen years ago old Wigghorn +choked a car patent out of some poor inventor, and his bank account's +been pyramidin' so fast ever since that now he's in the eight figure +class; but when it comes to bein' in the monkey dinner crowd, they +ain't even counted as near-silks. + +"Why," says Sadie, "I've heard that they have their champagne standing +in rows on the sideboard, and that they serve charlotte russe for +breakfast!" + +"That's an awful thing to repeat," says I. + +"Oh, well," says she, "Mrs. Wigghorn's a good natured soul, and I do +think the Duke might have stood her for an afternoon. He wouldn't +though, and now I've got to go there and call it off, just as she's got +herself into her diamond stomacher, probably, to receive them." + +"You couldn't ring in a couple of subs?" says I. For a minute Sadie's +blue eyes lights up like I'd passed her a plate of peach ice cream. +"If I only could!" says she. Then she shakes her head. "No," she +says, "I should hate to lie. And, anyway, there's no one within reach +who could play their parts." + +"That bein' the case," says I, "it looks like you'd have to go ahead +and break the sad news. What do you want me to do--hold a bucket for +the tears?" + +Sadie said all she expected of me was to help her forget it afterwards; +so we rolls along towards Wigghorn Arms. We'd got within a mile of +there when we meets a Greek peddler with a bunch of toy balloons on his +shoulder, and in less'n no time at all them crazy-quilt ponies was +tryin' to do back somersaults and other fool stunts. In the mix up one +of 'em rips a shoe almost off, and Mr. Coachman says he'll have to +chase back to a blacksmith shop and have it glued on. + +"Oh, bother!" says Sadie. "Well, hurry up about it. We'll walk along +as far as Apawattuck Inn and wait there." + +It wa'n't much of a walk. The Apawattuck's a place where they deal out +imitation shore dinners to trolley excursionists, and fusel oil high +balls to the bubble trade. The name sounds well enough, but that ain't +satisfyin' when you're real hungry. We were only killin' time, though, +so it didn't matter. We strolled up just as fearless as though their +clam chowders was fit to eat. + +And that's what fetched us up against the Tortonis. They was well +placed, at a corner veranda table where no one could miss seein' 'em; +and, as they'd just finished a plate of chicken salad and a pint of +genuine San José claret, they was lookin' real comfortable and elegant. + +Say, to see the droop eyed way they sized us up as we makes our entry, +you'd think they was so tired doin' that sort of thing that life was +hardly worth while. You'd never guess they'd been livin' in a hall bed +room on crackers and bologna ever since the season closed, and that +this was their first real feed of the summer, on the strength of just +havin' been booked for fifty performances. He was wearin' one of them +torrid suits you see in Max Blumstein's show window, with a rainbow +band on his straw pancake, and one of these flannel collar shirts that +you button under the chin with a brass safety pin. She was sportin' a +Peter Pan peekaboo that would have made Comstock gasp. And neither of +'em had seen a pay day for the last two months. + +But it was done good, though. They had the tray jugglers standin' +around respectful, and the other guests wonderin' how two such real +House of Mirthers should happen to stray in where the best dishes on +the card wa'n't more'n sixty cents a double portion. + +Course, I ain't never been real chummy with Tortoni--his boardin' house +name's Skinny Welch, you know--but I've seen him knockin' around the +Rialto off'n on for years; so, as I goes by to the next table, I lifts +my lid and says, "Hello, Skin. How goes it?" Say, wa'n't that +friendly enough? But what kind of a come back do I get? He just humps +his eyebrows, as much as to say, "How bold some of these common folks +is gettin' to be!" and then turns the other way. Sadie and I look at +each other and swap grins. + +"What happened?" says she. + +"I had a fifteen cent lump of Hygeia passed to me," says I. "And with +the ice trust still on top, I calls it extravagant." + +"Who are the personages?" says she. + +"Well, the last reports I had of 'em," says I, "they were the Tortonis, +waitin' to do a parlour sketch on the bargain day matinée circuit; but +from the looks now I guesses they're travellin' incog--for the +afternoon, anyway." + +"How lovely!" says Sadie. + +Our seltzer lemonades come along just then, so there was business with +the straws. I'd just fished out the last piece of pineapple when Jeems +shows up on the drive with the spotted ponies and that side saddle +cart. I gave Sadie the nudge to look at the Tortonis. They had their +eyes glued to that outfit, like a couple of Hester-st. kids lookin' at +a hoky poky waggon. + +And it wa'n't no common "Oh, I wish I could swipe that" look, either. +It was a heap deeper'n that. The whole get up, from the red wheels to +the silver rosettes, must have hit 'em hard, for they held their breath +most a minute, and never moved. The girl was the first to break away. +She turns her face out towards the Sound and sighs. Say, it must be +tough to have ambitions like that, and never get nearer to 'em than now +and then a ten block hansom ride. + +About then Jeems catches Sadie's eye, and salutes with the whip. + +"Did you get it fixed?" says she. + +He says it's all done like new. + +Signor Tortoni hadn't been losin' a look nor a word, and the minute he +ties us up to them speckled ponies he maps out a change of act. Before +I could call the waiter and get my change, Tortoni was right on the +ground. + +"I beg pardon," says he, "but isn't this my old friend, Professor +McCabe?" + +"You've sure got a comin' memory, Skinny," says I. + +"Why!" says he, gettin' a grip on my paw, "how stupid of me! Really, +professor, you've grown so distinguished looking that I didn't place +you at all. Why, this is a great pleasure, a very great pleasure, +indeed!" + +"Ye-e-es?" says I. + +But say, I couldn't rub it in. He was so dead anxious to connect +himself with that red cart before the crowd that I just let him spiel +away. Inside of two minutes the honours had been done all around, and +Sadie was bein' as nice to the girl as she knew how. And Sadie knows, +though! She'd heard that sigh, Sadie had; and it didn't jar me a bit +when she gives them the invite to take a little drive down the road +with us. + +Well, it was worth the money, just to watch Skinny judgin' up the house +out of the corner of his eye. I'll bet there wa'n't one in the +audience that he didn't know just how much of it they was takin' in; +and by the easy way he leaned across the seat back and chinned to +Sadie, as we got started, you'd thought he'd been brought up in one of +them carts. The madam wa'n't any in the rear, either. She was just as +much to home as if she'd been usin' up a green transfer across 34th. +If the style was new to her, or the motion gave her a tingly feelin' +down her back, she never mentioned it. + +They did lose their breath a few, though, when we struck Wigghorn Arms. +It's a whackin' big place, all fenced in with fancy iron work and +curlicue gates fourteen feet high. + +"I've just got to run in a minute and say a word to Mrs. Wigghorn," +says Sadie. "I hope you don't mind waiting?" + +Oh no, they didn't. They said so in chorus, and as we looped the loop +through the shrubbery and began to get glimpses of window awnings and +tiled roof, I could tell by the way they acted that they'd just as soon +wait inside as not. + +Mrs. Wigghorn wasn't takin' any chances on havin' Their Dukelets drive +up, leave their cards, and skidoo. She was right out front holdin' +down a big porch rocker, with her eyes peeled up the drive. And she +was costumed for the part. I don't know just what it was she had on, +but I've seen plush parlour suits covered with stuff like that. She's +a sizable old girl anyway, but in that rig, and with her store hair +puffed out, she loomed up like a bale of hay in a door. + +"Why, how do you do!" she squeals, makin' a swoop at Sadie as soon as +the wheels stopped turnin'. "And you did bring them along, didn't you? +Now don't say a word until I get Peter--he's just gone in to brush the +cigar ashes off his vest. We want to be presented to the Duke and +Duchess together, you know. Peter! Pe-ter!" she shouts, and in +through the front door she waddles, yellin' for the old man. + +And say, just by the look Sadie gave me I knew what was runnin' through +her head. + +"Shorty," says she, "I've a mind to do it." + +"Flag it," says. "You ain't got time." + +But there was no stoppin' her. "Listen," says she to the Tortonis. +"Can't you play Duke and Duchess of Kildee for an hour or so?" + +"What are the lines?" says Skinny. + +"You've got to improvise as you go along," says she. "Can you do it?" + +"It's a pipe for me," says he. "Flossy, do you come in on it?" + +Did she? Why, Flossy was diggin' up her English accent while he was +askin' the question, and by the time Mrs. Wigghorn got back, draggin' +Peter by the lapel of his dress coat, the Tortonis was fairly oozin' +aristocracy. It was "Chawmed, don'tcher know!" and "My word!" right +along from the drop of the hat. + +I didn't follow 'em inside, and was just as glad I didn't have to. +Sittin' out there, expectin' to hear the lid blow off, made me nervous +enough. I wasn't afraid either of 'em would go shy on front; but when +I remembered Flossy's pencilled eyebrows, and Skinny's flannel collar, +I says to myself, "That'll queer 'em as soon as they get in a good +light and there's time for the details to soak in." And I didn't know +what kind of trouble the Wigghorns might stir up for Sadie, when they +found out how bad they'd been toasted. + +It was half an hour before Sadie showed up again, and she was lookin' +merry. + +"What have they done with 'em," says I--"dropped 'em down the well?" + +Sadie snickered as she climbed in and told Jeems to whip up the team. +"Mr. and Mrs. Wigghorn," says she, "have persuaded the Duke and Duchess +to spend the week's end at Wigghorn Arms." + +"Gee!" says I. "Can they run the bluff that long?" + +"It's running itself," says Sadie. "The Wigghorns are so overcome with +the honour that they hardly know whether they're afoot or horseback; +and as for your friends, they're more British than the real articles +ever thought of being. I stayed until they'd looked through the suite +of rooms they're to occupy, and when I left they were being towed out +to the garage to pick out a touring car that suited them. They seemed +already to be bored to death, too." + +"Good!" say I. "Now maybe you'll take me over to the beach and let me +get in a quarter's worth of swim." + +"Can't you put it off, Shorty?" says she. "I want you to take the next +train into town and do an errand for me. Go to the landlady at this +number, East 15th-st., and tell her to send Mr. Tortoni's trunk by +express." + +Well, I did it. It took a ten to make the landlady loosen up on the +wardrobe, too; but considerin' the solid joy I've had, thinkin' about +Skinny and Flossy eatin' charlotte russe for breakfast, and all that, I +guess I'm gettin' a lot for my money. It ain't every day you have a +chance to elevate a vaudeville team to the peerage. + + + + +V + +PUTTING PINCKNEY ON THE JOB + +Well, say, this is where we mark up one on Pinckney. And it's time +too, for he's done the grin act at me so often he was comin' to think I +was gettin' into the Slivers class. You know about Pinckney. He's the +bubble on top of the glass, the snapper on the whip lash, the sunny +spot at the club. He's about as serious as a kitten playin' with a +string, and the cares on his mind weigh 'most as heavy as an extra +rooster feather on a spring bonnet. + +That's what comes of havin' a self raisin' income, a small list of +relatives, and a moderate thirst. If anything bobs up that needs to be +worried over--like whether he's got vests enough to last through a +little trip to London and back, or whether he's doubled up on his +dates--why, he just tells his man about it, and then forgets. For a +trouble dodger he's got the little birds in the trees carryin' weight. +Pinckney's liable to show up at the Studio here every day for a week, +and then again I won't get a glimpse of him for a month. It's always +safe to expect him when you see him, and it's a waste of time wonderin' +what he'll be up to next. But one of the things I likes most about +Pinckney is that he ain't livin' yesterday or to-morrow. It's always +this A. M. with him, and the rest of the calendar takes care of itself. + +So I wa'n't any surprised, as I was doin' a few laps on the avenue +awhile back, to hear him give me the hail. + +"Oh, I say, Shorty!" says he, wavin' his stick. + +"Got anything on?" + +"Nothin' but my clothes," says I. + +"Good!" says he. "Come with me, then." + +"Sure you know where you're goin'?" says I. + +Oh, yes, he was--almost. It was some pier or other he was headed for, +and he has the number wrote down on a card--if he could find the card. +By luck he digs it up out of his cigarette case, where his man has put +it on purpose, and then he proceeds to whistle up a cab. Say, if it +wa'n't for them cabbies, I reckon Pinckney would take root somewhere. + +"Meetin' some one, or seein' 'em off?" says I, as we climbs in. + +"Hanged if I know yet," says Pinckney. + +"Maybe it's you that's goin'?" says I. + +"Oh, no," says he. "That is, I hadn't planned to, you know. And come +to think of it, I believe I am to meet--er--Jack and Jill." + +"Names sound kind of familiar," says I. "What's the breed?" + +"What would be your guess?" says he. + +"A pair of spotted ponies," says I. + +"By Jove!" says he, "I hadn't thought of ponies." + +"Say," says I, sizin' him up to see if he was handin' me a josh, "you +don't mean to give out that you're lookin' for a brace of something to +come in on the steamer, and don't know whether they'll be tame or wild, +long haired or short, crated or live stock?" + +"Live stock!" says he, beamin'. "That's exactly the word I have been +trying to think of. That's what I shall ask for. Thanks, awfully, +Shorty, for the hint." + +"You're welcome," says I. "It looks like you need all the help along +that line you can get. Do you remember if this pair was somethin' you +sent for, or is it a birthday surprise?" + +With that he unloads as much of the tale as he's accumulated up to +date. Seems he'd just got a cablegram from some firm in London that +signs themselves Tootle, Tupper & Tootle, sayin' that Jack and Jill +would be on the _Lucania_, as per letter. + +"And then you lost the letter?" says I. + +No, he hadn't lost it, not that he knew of. He supposes that it's with +the rest of last week's mail, that he hasn't looked over yet. The +trouble was he'd been out of town, and hadn't been back more'n a day or +so--and he could read letters when there wa'n't anything else to do. +That's Pinckney, from the ground up. + +"Why not go back and get the letter now?" says I. "Then you'll know +all about Jack and Jill." + +"Oh, bother!" says he. "That would spoil all the fun. Let's see what +they're like first, and read about them afterwards." + +"If it suits you," says I, "it's all the same to me. Only you won't +know whether to send for a hostler or an animal trainer." + +"Perhaps I'd better engage both," says Pinckney. If they'd been handy, +he would have, too; but they wa'n't, so down we sails to the pier, +where the folks was comin' ashore. + +First thing Pinckney spies after we has rushed the gangplank is a gent +with a healthy growth of underbrush on his face and a lot of gold on +his sleeves. By the way they got together, I see that they was old +friends. + +"I hear you have something on board consigned to me, Captain?" says +Pinckney. "Something in the way of live stock, eh?" and he pokes Cap +in the ribs with his cane. + +"Right you are," says Cappie, chucklin' through his whiskers. "And the +liveliest kind of live stock we ever carried, sir." + +Pinckney gives me the nudge, as much as to say he'd struck it first +crack, and then he remarks, "Ah! And where are they now?" + +"Why," says the Cap, "they were cruising around the promenade deck a +minute ago; but, Lor' bless you, sir! there's no telling where they are +now--up on the bridge, or down in the boiler room. They're a pair of +colts, those two." + +"Colts!" says Pinckney, gaspin'. "You mean ponies, don't you?" + +"Well, well, ponies or colts, it's all one. They're lively enough for +either, and--Heigho! Here they come, the rascals!" + +There's whoop and a scamper, and along the deck rushes a couple of six- +or seven-year old youngsters, that makes a dive for the Cap'n, catches +him around either leg, and almost upsets him. They was twins, and it +didn't need the kilt suits just alike and the hair boxed just the same +to show it, either. They couldn't have been better matched if they'd +been a pair of socks, and the faces of 'em was all grins and mischief. +Say, anyone with a heart in him couldn't help takin' to kids like that, +providin' they didn't take to him first. + +"Here you are, sir," says the Cap'n,--"here's your Jack and Jill, and I +wish you luck with them. It'll be a good month before I can get back +discipline aboard; but I'm glad I had the bringing of 'em over. Here +you are, you holy terrors,--here's the Uncle Pinckney you've been +howling for!" + +At that they let loose of the Cap, gives a war-whoop in chorus, and +lands on Pinckney with a reg'lar flyin' tackle, both talkin' to once. +Well say, he didn't know whether to holler for help or laugh. He just +stands there and looks foolish, while one of 'em shins up and gets an +overhand holt on his lilac necktie. + +About then I notices some one bearin' down on us from the other side of +the deck. She was one of these tall, straight, deep chested, wide eyed +girls, built like the Goddess of Liberty, and with cheeks like a bunch +of sweet peas. Say, she was all right, she was; and if it hadn't been +for the Paris clothes she was wearin' home I could have made a guess +whether she come from Denver, or Dallas, or St. Paul. Anyway, we don't +raise many of that kind in New York. She has her eyes on the +youngsters. + +"Good-bye, Jack and Jill," says she, wavin' her hand at 'em. + +But nobody gets past them kids as easy as that. They yells "Miss +Gertrude!" at her like she was a mile off, and points to Pinckney, and +inside of a minute they has towed 'em together, pushed 'em up against +the rail, and is makin' 'em acquainted at the rate of a mile a minute. + +"Pleased, I'm sure," says Miss Gerty. "Jack and Jill are great friends +of mine. I suppose you are their Uncle Pinckney." + +"I'm almost beginning to believe I am," says Pinckney. + +"Why," says she, "aren't you----" + +"Oh, that's my name," says he. "Only I didn't know that I was an +uncle. Doubtless it's all right, though. I'll look it up." + +With that she eyes him like she thought he was just out of the nut +factory, and the more Pinckney tries to explain, the worse he gets +twisted. Finally he turns to the twins. "See here, youngsters," says +he, "which one of you is Jack?" + +"Me," says one of 'em. "I'se Jack." + +"Well, Jack," says Pinckney, "what is your last name?" + +"Anstruther," says the kid. + +"The devil!" says Pinckney, before he could stop it. Then he begs +pardon all around. "I see," says he. "I had almost forgotten about +Jack Anstruther, though I shouldn't. So Jack is your papa, is he? And +where is Jack now?" + +Some one must have trained them to do it, for they gets their heads +together, like they was goin' to sing a hymn, rolls up their eyes, and +pipes out, "Our--papa--is--up--there." + +"The deuce you say! I wouldn't have thought it!" gasps Pinckney. "No, +no! I--I mean I hadn't heard of it." + +It was a bad break, though; but the girl sees how cut up he is about +it, and smooths everything out with a laugh. + +"I fancy Jack and Jill know very little of such things," says she; "but +they can tell you all about Marie." + +"Marie's gone!" shouts the kids. "She says we drove her crazy." + +That was the way the story come out, steady by jerks. The meat of it +was that one of Pinckney's old chums had passed in somewhere abroad, +and for some reason or other these twins of his had been shipped over +to Pinckney in care of a French governess. Between not knowing how to +herd a pair of lively ones like Jack and Jill, and her gettin' +interested in a tall gent with a lovely black moustache, Marie had kind +of shifted her job off onto the rest of the passengers, specially +Gerty, and the minute the steamer touched the dock she had rolled her +hoop. + +"Pinckney," says I, "it's you to the bat." + +He looks at the twins doubtful, then he squints at me, and next he +looks at Miss Gertrude. "By Jove!" says he. "It appears that way, +doesn't it? I wonder how long I am expected to keep them?" + +The twins didn't know; I didn't; and neither does Gerty. + +"I had planned to take a noon train west," says she; "but if you think +I could help in getting Jack and Jill ashore, I'll stay over for a few +hours." + +"Will you?" says he. "That's ripping good of you. Really, you know, I +never took care of twins before." + +"How odd!" says she, tearin' off a little laugh that sounds as if it +come out of a music box. "I suppose you will take them home?" + +"Home!" says Pinckney. Say, you'd thought he never heard the word +before. "Why--ah--er--I live at the club, you know." + +"Oh," says she. + +"Would a hotel do?" says Pinckney. + +"You might try it," says she, throwin' me a look that was all twinkles. + +Then we rounds up the kids' traps, sees to their baggage, and calls +another cab. Pinckney and the girl takes Jill, I loads Jack in with +me, and off we starts. It was a great ride. Ever try to answer all +the questions a kid of that age can think up? Say, I was three behind +and short of breath before we'd gone ten blocks. + +"Is all this America?" says Mr. Jack, pointin' up Broadway. + +"No, sonny," says I; "this is little old New York." + +"Where's America, then?" says he. + +"Around the edges," says I. + +"I'm goin' to be president some day," says he. "Are you?" + +"Not till Teddy lets go, anyway," says I. + +"Who's Teddy?" says he. + +"The man behind the stick," says I. + +"I wish I had a stick," says Jack; "then I could whip the hossie. I +wish I had suffin' to eat, too." + +"I'd give a dollar if you had," says I. + +It seems that Jill has been struck with the same idea, for pretty soon +we comes together, and Pinckney shouts that we're all goin' to have +lunch. Now, there's a lot of eatin' shops in this town; but I'll bet +Pinckney couldn't name more'n four, to save his neck, and the +Fifth-ave. joint he picks out was the one he's most used to. + +It ain't what you'd call a fam'ly place. Mostly the people who hang +out there belong to the Spender clan. It's where the thousand-dollar +tenors, and the ex-steel presidents, and the pick of the pony ballet +come for broiled birds and bottled bubbles. But that don't bother +Pinckney a bit; so we blazes right in, kids and all. The head waiter +most has a fit when he spots Pinckney towin' a twin with each hand; but +he plants us at a round table in the middle of the room, turns on the +electric light under the seashell shades, and passes out the food +programs. I looks over the card; but as there wa'n't anything entered +that I'd ever met before, I passes. Gerty, she takes a look around, +and smiles. But the twins wa'n't a bit fazed. + +"What will it be, youngsters?" says Pinckney. + +"Jam," says they. + +"Jam it is," says Pinckney, and orders a couple of jars. + +"Don't you think they ought to have something besides sweets?" says +Miss Gerty. + +"Blessed if I know," says Pinckney, and he puts it up to the kids if +there wa'n't anything else they'd like. + +"Yep!" says they eagerly. "Pickles." + +That's what they had too, jam and pickles, with a little bread on the +side. Then, while we was finishin' off the grilled bones, or whatever +it was Pinckney had guessed at, they slides out of their chairs and +organises a game of tag. I've heard of a lot of queer doin's bein' +pulled off in that partic'lar caffy, but I'll bet this was the first +game of cross tag ever let loose there. It was a lively one, for the +tables was most all filled, and the tray jugglers was skatin' around +thick. That only made it all the more interestin' for the kids. +Divin' between the legs of garçons loaded down with silver and china +dishes was the best sport they'd struck in a month, and they just +whooped it up. + +[Illustration: THE TWINS ORGANIZE A GAME OF TAG] + +I could see the head waiter, standin' on tiptoes, watchin' 'em and +holdin' his breath. Pinckney was beginnin' to look worried too, but +Gerty was settin' there, as calm and smilin' as if they was playin' in +a vacant lot. It was easy to see she wa'n't one of the worryin' kind. + +"I wonder if I shouldn't stop them?" says Pinckney. + +Before he's hardly got it out, there comes a bang and a smash, and a +fat French waiter goes down with umpteen dollars' worth of fancy grub +and dishes. + +"Perhaps you'd better," says Gerty. + +"Yes," says I, "some of them careless waiters might fall on one of 'em." + +With that Pinckney starts after 'em, tall hat, cane, and all. The kids +see him, and take it that he's joined the game. + +"Oh, here's Uncle Pinckney!" they shouts. "You're it, Uncle Pinckney!" +and off they goes. + +That sets everybody roarin'--except Pinckney. He turns a nice shade of +red, and gives it up. I guess they'd put the place all to the bad, if +Miss Gerty hadn't stood up smilin' and held her hands out to them. +They come to her like she'd pulled a string, and in a minute it was all +over. + +"Pinckney," says I, "you want to rehearse this uncle act some before +you spring it on the public again." + +"I wish I could get at that letter and find out how long this is going +to last," says he, sighin' and moppin' his noble brow. + +But if Pinckney was shy on time for letter readin' before, he had less +of it now. The three of us put in the afternoon lookin' after that +pair of kids, and we was all busy at that. Twice Miss Gerty started to +break away and go for a train; but both times Pinckney sent me to call +her back. Soon's she got on the scene everything was lovely. + +Pinckney had picked out a suite of rooms at the Waldorf, and he thought +as soon as he could get hold of a governess and a maid his troubles +would be over. But it wa'n't so easy to pick up a pair of twin +trainers. Three or four sets shows up; but when they starts to ask +questions about who the twins belongs to, and who Pinckney was, and +where Miss Gerty comes in, and what was I doin' there they gets a touch +of pneumonia in the feet. + +"I ain't casting any insinuations," says one; "but I never have been +mixed up in a kidnapping case before, and I guess I won't begin now." + +"The sassy thing!" says I, as she bangs the door. + +Pinckney looks stunned; but Miss Gerty only laughs. + +"Perhaps you'd better let me go out and find some one," says she. "And +maybe I'll stay over for a day." + +While she was gone Pinckney gets me to take a note up to his man, +tellin' him to overhaul the mail and send all the London letters down. +That took me less'n an hour, but when I gets back to the hotel I finds +Pinckney with furrows in his brow, tryin' to make things right with the +manager. He'd only left the twins locked up in the rooms for ten +minutes or so, while he goes down for some cigarettes and the afternoon +papers; but before he gets back they've rung up everything, from the +hall maids to the fire department, run the bath tub over, and rigged +the patent fire escapes out of the window. + +"Was it you that was tellin' about not wantin' to miss any fun?" says I. + +"Don't rub it in, Shorty," says he. "Did you get that blamed Tootle +letter?" + +He grabs it eager. "Now," says he, "we'll see who these youngsters are +to be handed over to, and when." + +The twins had got me harnessed up to a chair, and we was havin' an +elegant time, when Pinckney gives a groan and hollers for me to come in +and shut the door. + +"Shorty," says he, "what do you think? There isn't anyone else. I've +got to keep them." + +Then he reads me the letter, which is from some English lawyers, sayin' +that the late Mr. Anstruther, havin' no relations, has asked that his +two children, Jack and Jill, should be sent over to his old and dear +friend, Mr. Lionel Ogden Pinckney Bruce, with the request that he act +as their guardian until they should come of age. The letter also says +that there's a wad of money in the bank for expenses. + +"And the deuce of it is, I can't refuse," says Pinckney. "Jack once +did me a good turn that I can never forget." + +"Well, this makes twice, then," says I. "But cheer up. For a +bachelor, you're doin' well, ain't you? Now all you need is an account +at the grocer's, and you're almost as good as a fam'ly man." + +"But," says he, "I know nothing about bringing up children." + +"Oh, you'll learn," says I. "You'll be manager of an orphan asylum +yet." + +It wa'n't until Miss Gerty shows up with a broad faced Swedish nurse +that Pinckney gets his courage back. Gerty tells him he can take the +night off, as she'll be on the job until mornin'; and Pinckney says the +thoughts of goin' back to the club never seemed quite so good to him as +then. + +"So long," says I; "but don't forget that you're an uncle." + +I has a picture of Pinckney takin' them twins by the hand, about the +second day, and headin' for some boardin' school or private home. I +couldn't help thinkin' about what a shame it was goin' to be too, for +they sure was a cute pair of youngsters--too cute to be farmed out +reckless. + +Course, though, I couldn't see Pinckney doin' anything else. Even if +he was married to one of them lady nectarines in the crowd he travels +with, and had a kid of his own, I guess it would be a case of mama and +papa havin' to be introduced to little Gwendolyn every once in awhile +by the head of the nursery department. + +Oh, I has a real good time for a few days, stewin' over them kids, and +wonderin' how they and Pinckney was comin' on. And then yesterday I +runs across the whole bunch, Miss Gerty and all, paradin' down the +avenue bound for a candy shop, the whole four of 'em as smilin' as if +they was startin' on a picnic. + +"Chee, Pinckney!" says I, "you look like you was pleased with the +amateur uncle business." + +"Why not?" says he. "You ought to see how glad those youngsters are to +see me when I come in. And we have great sport." + +"Hotel people still friendly?" says I. + +"Why," says he, "I believe there have been a few complaints. But we'll +soon be out of that. I've leased a country house for the summer, you +know." + +"A house!" says I. "You with a house! Who'll run it?" + +"S-s-s-sh!" says he, pullin' me one side and talkin' into my ear. "I'm +going West to-night, to bring on her mother, and----" + +"Oh, I see," says I. "You're goin' to offer Gerty the job?" + +Pinckney gets a colour on his cheek bones at that. "She's a charming +girl, Shorty," says he. + +"She's nothin' less," says I; "and them twins are all right too. But +say, Pinckney, I'll bet you never meet a steamer again without knowin' +all about why you're there. Eh?" + + + + +VI + +THE SOARING OF THE SAGAWAS + +Well, I've been doin' a little more circulatin' among the fat-wads. +It's gettin' to be a reg'lar fad with me. And say, I used to think +they was a simple lot; but I don't know as they're much worse than some +others that ain't got so good an excuse. + +I was sittin' on my front porch, at Primrose Park, when in rolls that +big bubble of Sadie's, with her behind the plate glass and rubber. + +"But I thought you was figurin' in that big house party out to Breeze +Acres," says I, "where they've got a duchess on exhibition?" + +"It's the duchess I'm running away from," says Sadie. + +"You ain't gettin' stage fright this late in the game, are you?" says I. + +"Hardly," says she. "I'm bored, though. The duchess is a frost. She +talks of nothing but her girls' charity school and her complexion +baths. Thirty of us have been shut up with her for three days now, and +we know her by heart. Pinckney asked me to drop around and see if I +could find you. He says he's played billiards and poker until he's +lost all the friends he ever had, and that if he doesn't get some +exercise soon he'll die of indigestion. Will you let me take you over +for the night?" + +Well, I've monkeyed with them swell house parties before, and generally +I've dug up trouble at 'em; but for the sake of Pinckney's health I +said I'd take another chance; so in I climbs, and we goes zippin' off +through the mud. Sadie hadn't told me more'n half the cat-scraps the +women had pulled off durin' them rainy days before we was 'most there. + +Just as we slowed up to turn into the private road that leads up to +Breeze Acres, one of them dinky little one-lunger benzine buggies comes +along, missin' forty explosions to the minute and coughin' itself to +death on a grade you could hardly see. All of a sudden somethin' goes +off. Bang! and the feller that was jugglin' the steerin' bar throws up +both hands like he'd been shot with a ripe tomato. + +"Caramba!" says he. "Likewise gadzooks!" as the antique quits movin' +altogether. + +I'd have known that lemon-coloured pair of lip whiskers anywhere. +Leonidas Dodge has the only ones in captivity. I steps out of the +show-case in time to see mister man lift off the front lid and shove +his head into the works. + +"Is the post mortem on?" says I. + +"By the beard of the prophet!" says he, swingin' around, "Shorty +McCabe!" + +"Much obliged to meet you," says I, givin' him the grip. "The +Electro-Polisho business must be boomin'," says I, "when you carry it +around in a gasoline coach. But go on with your autopsy. Is it +locomotor ataxia that ails the thing, or cirrhosis of the sparkin' +plug?" + +"It's nearer senile dementia," says he. "Gaze on that piece of +mechanism, Shorty. There isn't another like it in the country." + +"I can believe that," says I. + +For an auto it was the punkiest ever. No two of the wheels was mates +or the same size; the tires was bandaged like so many sore throats; the +front dasher was wabbly; one of the side lamps was a tin stable +lantern; and the seat was held on by a couple of cleats knocked off the +end of a packing box. + +"Looks like it had seen some first-aid repairin'," says I. + +"Some!" says Leonidas. "Why, I've nailed this relic together at least +twice a week for the last two months. I've used waggon bolts, nuts +borrowed from wayside pumps, pieces of telephone wire, and horseshoe +nails. Once I ran twenty miles with the sprocket chain tied up with +twine. And yet they say that the age of miracles has passed! It would +need a whole machine shop to get her going again," says he. "I'll +await until my waggons come up, and then we'll get out the tow rope." + +"Waggons!" says I. "You ain't travellin' with a retinue, are you?" + +"That's the exact word for it," says he. And then Leonidas tells me +about the Sagawa aggregation. Ever see one of these medicine shows? +Well, that's what Leonidas had. He was sole proprietor and managing +boss of the outfit. + +"We carry eleven people, including drivers and canvas men," says he, +"and we give a performance that the Proctor houses would charge +seventy-five a head for. It's all for a dime, too--quarter for +reserved--and our gentlemanly ushers offer the Sagawa for sale only +between turns." + +"You talk like a three-sheet poster," says I. "Where you headed for +now?" + +"We're making a hundred-mile jump up into the mill towns," says he, +"and before we've worked up as far as Providence I expect we'll have to +carry the receipts in kegs." + +That was Leonidas, all over; seein' rainbows when other folks would be +predictin' a Johnstown flood. Just about then, though, the bottom +began to drop out of another cloud, so I lugged him over to the big +bubble and put him inside. + +"Sadie," says I, "I want you to know an old side pardner of mine. His +name's Leonidas Dodge, or used to be, and there's nothing yellow about +him but his hair." + +And say, Sadie hadn't more'n heard about the Sagawa outfit than she +begins to smile all over her face; so I guesses right off that she's +got tangled up with some fool idea. + +"It would be such a change from the duchess if we could get Mr. Dodge +to stop over at Breeze Acres to-night and give his show," says Sadie. + +"Madam," says Leonidas, "your wishes are my commands." + +Sadie kept on grinnin' and plannin' out the program, while Leonidas +passed out his high English as smooth as a demonstrator at a food show. +Inside of ten minutes they has it all fixed. Then Sadie skips into the +little gate cottage, where the timekeeper lives, and calls up Pinckney +on the house 'phone. And say! what them two can't think of in the way +of fool stunts no one else can. + +By the time she'd got through, the Sagawa aggregation looms up on the +road. There was two four-horse waggons. The front one had a tarpaulin +top, and under cover was a bunch of the saddest lookin' actorines and +specialty people you'd want to see. They didn't have life enough to +look out when the driver pulled up. The second waggon carried the +round top and poles. + +"Your folks look as gay as a gang startin' off to do time on the +island," says I. + +"They're not as cheerful as they might be, that's a fact," says +Leonidas. + +It didn't take him long to put life into 'em, though. When he'd give +off a few brisk orders they chirked up amazin'. They shed their rain +coats for spangled jackets, hung out a lot of banners, and uncased a +lot of pawnshop trombones and bass horns and such things. "All up for +the grand street parade!" sings out Leonidas. + +For an off-hand attempt, it wa'n't so slow. First comes Pinckney, +ridin' a long-legged huntin' horse and keepin' the rain off his red +coat with an umbrella. Then me and Sadie in her bubble, towin' the +busted one-lunger behind. Leonidas was standin' up on the seat, +wearin' his silk hat and handlin' a megaphone. Next came the band +waggon, everybody armed with some kind of musical weapon, and tearin' +the soul out of "The Merry Widow" waltz, in his own particular way. +The pole waggon brings up the rear. + +Pinckney must have spread the news well, for the whole crowd was out on +the front veranda to see us go past. And say, when Leonidas sizes up +the kind of folks that was givin' him the glad hand, he drops the +imitation society talk that he likes to spout, and switches to straight +Manhattanese. + +"Well, well, well! Here we are!" he yells through the megaphone. "The +only original Sagawa show on the road, remember! Come early, gents, +and bring your lady friends. The doors of the big tent will open at +eight o'clock--eight o'clock--and at eight-fifteen Mlle. Peroxide, the +near queen of comedy, will cut loose on the coon songs." + +"My word!" says the duchess, as she squints through her glasses at the +aggregation. + +But the rest of the guests was just ripe for something of the kind. +Mrs. Curlew Brassett, who'd almost worried herself sick at seein' her +party put on the blink by a shop-worn exhibit on the inside and rain on +the out, told Pinckney he could have the medicine tent pitched in the +middle of her Italian garden, if he wanted to. They didn't, though. +They stuck up the round top on the lawn just in front of the stables, +and they hadn't much more'n lit the gasolene flares before the folks +begins to stroll out and hit up the ticket waggon. + +"It's the first time I ever had the nerve to charge two dollars a throw +for perches on the blue boards," says Leonidas; "but that friend of +yours, Mr. Pinckney, wanted me to make it five." + +Anyway, it was almost worth the money. Mlle. Peroxide, who did the +high and lofty with a job lot of last year coon songs, owned a voice +that would have had a Grand-st. banana huckster down and out; the +monologue man was funny only when he didn't mean to be; and the +black-face banjoist was the limit. Then there was a juggler, and +Montana Kate, who wore buckskin leggins and did a fake rifle-shootin' +act. + +I tried to head Leonidas off from sendin' out his tent men, rigged up +in red flannel coats, to sell bottled Sagawa; but he said Pinckney had +told him to be sure and do it. They were birds, them "gentlemanly +ushers." + +"I'll bet I know where you picked up a lot of 'em," says I. + +"Where?" says Leonidas. + +"Off the benches in City Hall park," I says. + +"All but one," says he, "and he had just graduated from Snake Hill. +But you didn't take this for one of Frohman's road companies, did you?" + +They unloaded the Sagawa, though. The audience wasn't missin' +anything, and most everyone bought a bottle for a souvenir. + +"It's the great Indian liver regulator and complexion beautifier," says +Leonidas in his business talk. "It removes corns, takes the soreness +out of stiff muscles, and restores the natural colour to grey hair. +Also, ladies and gents, it can be used as a furniture polish, while a +few drops in the bath is better than a week at Hot Springs." + +He was right to home, Leonidas was, and it was a joy to see him. He'd +got himself into a wrinkled dress suit, stuck an opera hat on the back +of his head, and he jollied along that swell mob just as easy as if +they'd been factory hands. And they all seemed glad they'd come. +After it was over Pinckney says that it was too bad to keep such a good +thing all to themselves, and he wants me to see if Leonidas wouldn't +stay and give grand matinée performance next day. + +"Tell him I'll guarantee him a full house," says Pinckney. + +Course, Leonidas didn't need any coaxin'. "But I wish you'd find out +if there isn't a butcher's shop handy," says he. "You see, we were up +against it for a week or so, over in Jersey, and the rations ran kind +of low. In fact, all we've had to live on for the last four days has +been bean soup and pilot bread, and the artists are beginning to +complain. Now that I've got a little real money, I'd like to buy a few +pounds of steak. I reckon the aggregation would sleep better after a +hot supper." + +I lays the case before Pinckney and Sadie, and they goes straight for +Mrs. Brassett. And say! before eleven-thirty they had that whole +outfit lined up in the main dinin'-room before such a feed as most of +'em hadn't ever dreamed about. There was everything, from chilled +olives to hot squab, with a pint of fizz at every plate. + +Right after breakfast Pinckney began warmin' the telephone wires, +callin' up everyone he knew within fifteen miles. And he sure did a +good job. While he was at that I strolls out to the tent to have a +little chin with Leonidas, and I discovers him up to the neck in +trouble. He was backed up against the centre pole, and in front of him +was the whole actorette push, all jawin' at once, and raisin' seven +different kinds of ructions. + +"Excuse me for buttin' in," says I; "but I thought maybe this might be +a happy family." + +"It ought to be, but it ain't," says Leonidas. "Just listen to 'em." + +And say, what kind of bats do you think had got into their belfries? +Seems they'd heard about the two-dollar-a-head crowd that was comin' to +the matinée. That, and bein' waited on by a butler at dinner the night +before, had gone to the vacant spot where their brains ought to be. +They were tellin' Leonidas that if they were goin' to play to Broadway +prices they were goin' to give Broadway acts. + +Mlle. Peroxide allowed that she would cut out the rag time and put in a +few choice selections from grand opera. Montana Kate hears that, and +sheds the buckskin leggins. No rifle shootin' for her; not much! She +had Ophelia's lines down pat, and she meant to give 'em or die in the +attempt. The black-face banjoist says he can impersonate Sir Henry +Irving to the life; and the juggler guy wants to show 'em how he can +eat up the Toreador song. + +"These folks want somethin' high-toned," says Mlle. Peroxide, "and this +is the chance of a lifetime for me to fill the bill. I'd been doin' +grand opera long ago if it hadn't been for the trust." + +"They told me at the dramatic school in Dubuque that I ought to stick +to Shakespeare," says Montana Kate, "and here's where I get my hooks +in." + +"You talk to 'em, Shorty," says Leonidas; "I'm hoarse." + +"Not me," says I. "I did think you was a real gent, but I've changed +my mind, Mr. Dodge. Anyone who'll tie the can to high-class talent the +way you're tryin' to do is nothin' less'n a fiend in human form." + +"There, now!" says the blondine. + +Leonidas chucks the sponge. "You win," says he, "I'll let you all take +a stab at anything you please, even if it comes to recitin' 'Ostler +Joe'; but I'll be blanked if I shut down on selling Sagawa!" + +Two minutes later they were turnin' trunks upside down diggin' out +costumes to fit. As soon as they began to rehearse, Leonidas goes +outside and sits down behind the tent, holdin' his face in his hands, +like he had the toothache. + +"It makes me ashamed of my kind," says he. "Why, they're rocky enough +for a third-rate waggon show, and I supposed they knew it; but I'll be +hanged if every last one of 'em don't think they've got Sothern or +Julia Marlowe tied in a knot. Shorty, it's human nature glimpses like +this that makes bein' an optimist hard work." + +"They're a bug-house bunch; all actors are," says I. "You can't change +'em, though." + +"I wish I wasn't responsible for this lot," says he. + +He was feelin' worse than ever when the matinée opens. It had stopped +rainin' early in the mornin', and all the cottagers for miles around +had come over to see what new doin's Pinckney had hatched up. There +was almost a capacity house when Leonidas steps out on the stage to +announce the first turn. I knew he had more green money in his clothes +that minute than he'd handled in a month before, but he acted as +sheepish as if he was goin' to strike 'em for a loan. + +"I wish to call the attention of the audience," says he, "to a few +changes of program. Mlle. Peroxide, who is billed to sing coon songs, +will render by her own request the jewel song from 'Faust,' and two +solos from 'Lucia di Lammermoor.'" + +And say, she did it! Anyways, them was what she aimed at. For awhile +the crowd held its breath, tryin' to believe it was only a freight +engine whistlin' for brakes, or somethin' like that. Then they began +to grin. Next some one touched off a giggle, and after that they +roared until they were wipin' away the tears. + +Leonidas don't look quite so glum when he comes out to present the +reformed banjoist as Sir Henry Irving. He'd got his cue, all right, +and he hands out a game of talk about delayed genius comin' to the +front that tickled the folks clear through. The guy never seemed to +drop that he was bein' handed the lemon, and he done his worst. + +I thought they'd used up all the laughs they had in 'em, but Montana +Kate as Ophelia set 'em wild again. Maybe you've seen amateurs that +was funny, but you never see anything to beat that combination. +Amateurs are afraid to let themselves loose, but not that bunch. They +were so sure of bein' the best that ever happened in their particular +lines that they didn't even know the crowd was givin' 'em the ha-ha +until they'd got through. + +Anyway, as a rib tickler that show was all to the good. The folks +nearly mobbed Pinckney, tellin' him what a case he was to think up such +an exhibition, and he laid it all to Sadie and me. + +Only the duchess didn't exactly seem to connect with the joke. She sat +stolidly through the whole performance in a kind of a daze, and then +afterwards she says: "It wasn't what I'd call really clever, you know; +but, my word! the poor things tried hard enough." + +Just before I starts for home I hunts up Leonidas. He was givin' +orders to his boss canvasman when I found him, and feelin' the pulse of +his one-lunger, that Mrs. Brassett's chauffeur had tinkered up. + +"Well, Leonidas," says I, "are you goin' to put the Shakespeare-Sagawa +combination on the ten-twenty-thirt circuit?" + +"Not if I can prove an alibi," says he. "I've just paid a week's +advance salary to that crowd of Melbas and Booths, and told 'em to go +sign contracts with Frohman and Hammerstein. I may be running a +medicine show, but I've got some professional pride left. Now I'm +going back to New York and engage an educated pig and a troupe of +trained dogs to fill out the season." + +The last I saw of Montana Kate she was pacin' up and down the station +platform, readin' a copy of "Romeo and Juliet." Ain't they the +pippins, though? + + + + +VII + +RINKEY AND THE PHONY LAMP + +Say, for gettin' all the joy that's comin' to you, there's nothin' like +bein' a mixer. The man who travels in one class all the time misses a +lot. And I sure was mixin' it when I closes with Snick Butters and Sir +Hunter Twiggle all in the same day. + +Snick had first place on the card. He drifts into the Studio early in +the forenoon, and when I sees the green patch over the left eye I knows +what's comin'. He's shy of a lamp on that side, you know--uses the +kind you buy at the store, when he's got it; and when he ain't got it, +he wants money. + +I s'pose if I was wise I'd scratched Snick off my list long ago; but +knowin' him is one of the luxuries I've kept up. You know how it is +with them old time friends you've kind of outgrown but hate to chuck in +the discard, even when they work their touch as reg'lar as rent bills. + +But Snick and me played on the same block when we was kids, and there +was a time when I looked for Snick to be boostin' me, 'stead of me +boostin' him. He's one of the near-smarts that you're always expectin' +to make a record, but that never does. Bright lookin' boy, neat +dresser, and all that, but never stickin' to one thing long enough to +make good. You've seen 'em. + +"Hello, Snick!" says I, as he levels the single barrel on me. "I see +you've pulled down the shade again. What's happened to that memorial +window of yours this time?" + +"Same old thing," says he. "It's in at Simpson's for five, and a +bookie's got the five." + +"And now you want to negotiate a second mortgage, eh?" says I. + +That was the case. He tells me his newest job is handlin' the josh +horn on the front end of one of these Rube waggons, and just because +the folks from Keokuk and Painted Post said that lookin' at the patch +took their minds off seein' the skyscrapers, the boss told him he'd +have to chuck it or get the run. + +"He wouldn't come across with a five in advance, either," says Snick. +"How's that for the granite heart?" + +"It's like other tales of woe I've heard you tell," says I, "and +generally they could be traced to your backin' three kings, or gettin' +an inside tip on some beanery skate." + +"That's right," says he, "but never again. I've quit the sportin' life +for good. Just the same, if I don't show up on the waggon for the +'leven o'clock trip I'll be turned loose. If you don't believe it +Shorty, I'll----" + +"Ah, don't go callin' any notary publics," says I. "Here's the V to +take up that ticket. But say, Snick; how many times do I have to buy +out that eye before I get an equity in it?" + +"It's yours now; honest, it is," says he. "If you say so, I'll write +out a bill of sale." + +"No," says I, "your word goes. Do you pass it?" + +He said he did. + +"Thanks," says I. "I always have thought that was a fine eye, and I'm +proud to own it. So long, Snick." + +There's one good thing about Snick Butters; after he's made his touch +he knows enough to fade; don't hang around and rub it in, or give you a +chance to wish you hadn't been so easy. It's touch and go with him, +and before I'd got out the last of my remarks he was on his way. + +It wa'n't more'n half josh, though, that I was givin' him about that +phony pane of his. It was a work of art, one of the bright blue kind. +As a general thing you can always spot a bought eye as far as you can +see it, they're so set and stary. But Snick got his when he was young +and, bein' a cute kid, he had learned how to use it so well that most +folks never knew the difference. He could do about everything but see +with it. + +First off he'd trained it to keep pace with the other, movin' 'em +together, like they was natural; but whenever he wanted to he could +make the glass one stand still and let the other roam around. He +always did that on Friday afternoons when he got up to speak pieces in +the grammar school. And it was no trick at all for him to look wall +eyed one minute, cross eyed the next, and then straighten 'em out with +a jerk of his head. Maybe if it hadn't been for that eye of Snick's +I'd have got further'n the eighth grade. + +His star performance, though, was when he did a jugglin' act keepin' +three potatoes in the air. He'd follow the murphies with his good eye +and turn the other one on the audience, and if you didn't know how it +was done, it would give you the creeps up and down the back, just +watchin' him. + +Say, you'd thought a feller with talent like that would have made a +name for himself, wouldn't you? Tryin' to be a sport was where Snick +fell down, though. He had the blood, all right, but no head. Why when +we used to play marbles for keeps, Snick would never know when to quit. +He'd shoot away until he'd lost his last alley, and then he'd pry out +that glass eye of his and chuck it in the ring for another go. Many a +time Snick's gone home wearin' a striped chiny or a pink stony in place +of the store eye, and then his old lady would chase around lookin' for +the kid that had won it off'm him. There's such a thing as bein' too +good a loser; but you could never make Snick see it. + +Well, I'd marked up five to the bad on my books, and then Swifty Joe +and me had worked an hour with a couple of rockin' chair commodores +from the New York Yacht Club, gettin' 'em in shape to answer Lipton's +batch of spring challenges, when Pinckney blows in, towin' a tubby, red +faced party in a frock coat and a silk lid. + +"Shorty," says he, "I want you to know Sir Hunter Twiggle. Sir Hunter, +this is the Professor McCabe you've heard about." + +"If you heard it from Pinckney," says I, "don't believe more'n half of +it." With that we swaps the grip, and he says he's glad to meet up +with me. + +But say, he hadn't been in the shop two minutes 'fore I was next to the +fact that he was another who'd had to mate up his lamps with a specimen +from the glass counter. + +"They must be runnin' in pairs," thinks I. "This'd be a good time to +draw to three of a kind." + +Course, I didn't mention it, but I couldn't keep from watchin' how +awkward he handled his'n, compared to the smooth way Snick could do it. +I guess Pinckney must have spotted me comin' the steady gaze, for +pretty soon he gets me one side and whispers, "Don't appear to notice +it." + +"All right," says I; "I'll look at his feet." + +"No, no," says Pinckney, "just pretend you haven't discovered it. He's +very sensitive on the subject--thinks no one knows, and so on." + +"But it's as plain as a gold tooth," says I. + +"I know," says Pinckney; "but humour him. He's the right sort." + +Pinckney wa'n't far off, either. For a gent that acted as though he'd +been born wearin' a high collar and a shiny hat, Sir Twiggle wasn't so +worse. Barrin' the stiffenin', which didn't wear off at all, he was a +decent kind of a haitch eater. Bein' dignified was something he +couldn't help. You'd never guessed, to look at him, that he'd ever +been mixed up in anything livelier'n layin' a church cornerstone, but +it leaks out that he had been through all kinds of scraps in India, +comes from the same stock as the old Marquis of Queensberry, and has +followed the ring more or less himself. + +"I had the doubtful honour," says he, bringin' both eyes into range on +me, "of backing a certain Mr. Palmer, whom we sent over here several +years ago after a belt." + +"He got more'n one belt," says I. + +"Quite so," says he, almost crackin' a smile; "one belt too many, I +fancy." + +Say, that was a real puncherino, eh? I ain't sure but what he got off +more along the same line, for some of them British kind is hard to know +unless you see 'em printed in the joke column. Anyway, we has quite a +chin, and before he left we got real chummy. + +He had a right to be feelin' gay, though; for he'd come over to marry a +girl with more real estate deeds than you could pack in a trunk. Some +kin of Pinckney's, this Miss Cornerlot was; a sort of faded flower that +had hung too long on the stem. She'd run across Sir Hunter in London, +him bein' a widower that was willin' to forget, and they'd made a go of +it, nobody knew why. I judged that Pinckney was some relieved at the +prospects of placin' a misfit. He'd laid out for a little dinner at +the club, just to introduce Sir Hunter to his set and brace him up for +bein' inspected by the girl's aunt and other relations at some swell +doin's after. + +I didn't pay much attention to their program at the time. It wa'n't +any of my funeral who Pinckney married off his leftover second cousins +to; and by evenin' I'd clean forgot all about Twiggle; when Pinckney +'phones he'd be obliged if I could step around to a Broadway hotel +right off, as he's in trouble. + +Pinckney meets me just inside the plate glass merry go round. +"Something is the matter with Sir Hunter," says he, "and I can't find +out from his fool man what it is." + +"Before we gets any deeper let's clear the ground," says I. "When you +left him, was he soused, or only damp around the edges?" + +"Oh, it's not that at all," says Pinckney. "Sir Hunter is a +gentleman--er, with a wonderful capacity." + +"The Hippodrome tank's got that too," I says; "but there's enough fancy +drinks mixed on Broadway every afternoon to run it over." + +Sir Hunter has a set of rooms on the 'leventh floor. He wa'n't in +sight, but we digs up Rinkey. By the looks, he'd just escaped from the +chorus of a musical comedy, or else an Italian bakery. Near as I could +make out he didn't have any proper clothes on at all, but was just done +up in white buntin' that was wrapped and draped around him, like a +parlour lamp on movin' day. The spots of him that you could see, +around the back of his neck and the soles of his feet, was the colour +of a twenty-cent maduro cigar. He was spread out on the rug with his +heels toward us and his head on the sill of the door leadin' into the +next room. + +"Back up, Pinckney!" says I. "This must be a coloured prayer meetin' +we're buttin' into." + +"No, it's all right," says Pinckney. "That is Sir Hunter's man, Ringhi +Singh." + +"Sounds like a coon song," says I. "But he's no valet. He's a cook; +can't you see by the cap?" + +"That's a turban," says Pinckney. "Sir Hunter brought Ringhi from +India, and he wears his native costume." + +"Gee!" says I. "If that's his reg'lar get up, he's got Mark Twain's +Phoebe Snow outfit beat a mile. But does Rinkey always rest on his +face when he sits down?" + +"It's that position which puzzles me," says Pinckney. "All I could get +out of him was that Sahib Twiggle was in bed, and wouldn't see anyone." + +"Oh, then the heathen is wise to United States talk, is he?" says I. + +"He understands English, of course," says Pinckney, "but he declines to +talk." + +"That's easy fixed," says I, reachin' out and grabbin' Rinkey by the +slack of his bloomers. "Maybe his conversation works is out of kink," +and I up ends Rinkey into a chair. + +"Be careful!" Pinckney sings out. "They're treachous chaps." + +I had my eye peeled for cutlery, but he was the mildest choc'late cream +you ever saw. He slumped there on the chair, shiverin' as if he had a +chill comin' on, and rollin' his eyes like a cat in a fit. He was so +scared he didn't know the day of the month from the time of night. + +"Cheer up, Rinkey," says I, "and act sociable. Now tell the gentleman +what's ailin' your boss." + +It was like talkin' into a 'phone when the line's out of business. +Rinkey goes on sendin' Morse wireless with his teeth, and never +unloosens a word. + +"Look here, Br'er Singh," says I, "you ain't gettin' any third +degree--yet! Cut out the ague act and give Mr. Pinckney the straight +talk. He's got a date here and wants to know why the gate is up." + +More silence from Rinkey. + +"Oh, well," says I, "I expect it ain't etiquette to jump the outside +guard; but if we're goin' to get next to Sir Hunter, it looks like we +had to announce ourselves. Here goes!" + +I starts for the inside door; but I hadn't got my knuckles on the panel +before Rinkey was givin' me the knee tackle and splutterin' all kinds +of language. + +"Hey!" says I. "Got the cork out, have you?" + +With that Rinkey gets up and beckons us over into the far corner. + +"The lord sahib," says he, rollin' his eyes at the bed room door--"the +lord sahib desire that none should come near. He is in great anger." + +"What's he grouchy about?" says I. + +"The lord sahib," says he, "will destroy to death poor Ringhi Singh if +he reveals." + +"Destroy to death is good," says I; "but it don't sound convincin'. I +think we're bein' strung." + +Pinckney has the same idea, so I gets a good grip on Rinkey's neck. + +"Come off!" says I. "As a liar you're too ambitious. You tell us +what's the matter with your boss, or I'll do things to you that'll make +bein' destroyed to death seem like fallin' on a feather bed!" + +And it come, quick. "Yes, sahib," says he. "It is that there has been +lost beyond finding the lord sahib's glorious eye." + +"Sizzlin' sisters! Another pane gone!" says I. "This must be my eye +retrievin' day, for sure." + +But Pinckney takes it mighty serious. He says that the dinner at the +club don't count for so much, but that the other affair can't be +sidetracked so easy. It seems that the girl has lived through one +throw down, when the feller skipped off to Europe just as the tie-up +was to be posted, and it wouldn't do to give her a second scare of the +same kind. + +Rinkey was mighty reluctant about goin' into details, but we gets it +out of him by degrees that the lord sahib has a habit, when he's locked +up alone, of unscrewin' the fake lamp and puttin' it away in a box full +of cotton battin'. + +"Always in great secret," says Rinkey; "for the lord sahib would not +disclose. But I have seen, which was an evil thing--oh, very evil! +To-night it was done as before; but when it was time for the return, +alas! the box was down side up on the floor and the glorious eye was +not anywhere. Search! We look into everything, under all things. +Then comes a great rage on the lord sahib, and I be sore from it in +many places." + +"That accounts for your restin' on your face, eh?" says I. "Well, +Pinckney, what now?" + +"Why," says he, "we've simply got to get a substitute eye. I'll wait +here while you go out and buy another." + +"Say, Pinckney," I says, "if you was goin' down Broadway at +eight-thirty P. M., shoppin' for glass eyes, where'd you hit first? +Would you try a china store, Or a gent's furnishin's place?" + +"Don't they have them at drug stores?" says Pinckney. + +"I never seen any glass eye counters in the ones I go to," says I. And +then, right in the midst of our battin' our heads, I comes to. + +"Oh, splash!" says I. "Pinckney, if anyone asks you, don't let on what +a hickory head I am. Why, I've got a glass eye that Sir Hunter can +have the loan of over night, just as well as not."' + +"You!" says Pinckney, lookin' wild. + +"Sure thing," says I. "It's a beaut, too. Can't a feller own a glass +eye without wearin' it?" + +"But where is it?" says Pinckney. + +"It's with Snick Butters," says I. "He's usin' it, I expect. Fact is, +it was built for Snick, but I hold a gilt edged first mortgage, and all +I need to do to foreclose is say the word. Come on. Just as soon as +we find Snick you can run back and fix up Sir Hunter as good as new." + +"Do you think you can find him?" says Pinckney. + +"We've got to find him," says I. "I'm gettin' interested in this game." + +Snick was holdin' down a chair in the smokin' room at the Gilsey. He +grins when he sees me, but when I puts it up to him about callin' in +the loose lens for over night his jaw drops. + +"Just my luck," says he. "Here I've got bill board seats for the +Casino and was goin' to take the newsstand girl to the show as soon as +she can get off." + +"Sorry, Snick," says I, "but this is a desperate case. Won't she stand +for the green curtain?" + +"S-s-sh!" says he. "She don't know a thing about that. I'll have to +call it off. Give me two minutes, will you?" + +That was Snick, all over--losin' out just as easy as some folks wins. +When he comes back, though, and I tells him what's doin', he says he'd +like to know just where the lamp was goin', so he could be around after +it in the mornin'. + +"Sure," says I. "Bring it along up with you, then, there won't be any +chance of our losin' it." + +So all three of us goes back to the hotel. Pinckney wa'n't sayin' a +word, actin' like he was kind of dazed, but watchin' Snick all the +time. As we gets into the elevator, he pulls me by the sleeve and +whispers: + +"I say, Shorty, which one is it?" + +"The south one," says I. + +It wasn't till we got clear into Sir Hunter's reception room, under the +light, that Pinckney heaves up something else. + +"Oh, I say!" says he, starin' at Snick. "Beg pardon for mentioning it, +but yours is a--er--you have blue eyes, haven't you, Mr. Butters?" + +"That's right," says Snick. + +"And Sir Hunter's are brown. It will never do," says he. + +"Ah, what's the odds at night?" says I. "Maybe the girl's colour +blind, anyway." + +"No," says Pinckney, "Sir Hunter would never do it. Now, if you only +knew of some one with a----" + +"I don't," says I. "Snick's the only glass eyed friend I got on my +repertoire. It's either his or none. You send Rinkey in to ask +Twiggle if a blue one won't do on a pinch." + +Mr. Rinkey didn't like the sound of that program a bit, and he goes to +clawin' around my knees, beggin' me not to send him in to the lord +sahib. + +"G'wan!" says I, pushin' him off. "You make me feel as if I was bein' +measured for a pair of leggin's. Skiddo!" + +As I gives him a shove my finger catches in the white stuff he has +around his head, and it begins to unwind. I'd peeled off about a yard, +when out rolls somethin' shiny that Snick spots and made a grab for. + +"Hello!" says he. "What's this?" + +It was the stray brown, all right. That Kipling coon has had it stowed +away all the time. Well say, there was lively doin's in that room for +the next few minutes; me tryin' to get a strangle hold on Rinkey, and +him doin' his best to jump through a window, chairs bein' knocked over, +Snick hoppin' around tryin' to help, and Pinckney explainin' to Sir +Hunter through the keyhole what it was all about. + +When it was through we held a court of inquiry. And what do you guess? +That smoked Chinaman had swiped it on purpose, thinkin' if he wore it +on the back of his head he could see behind him. Wouldn't that grind +you? + +But it all comes out happy. Sir Hunter was a little late for dinner, +but he shows up two eyed before the girl, makes a hit with her folks, +and has engaged Snick to give him private lessons on how to make a fake +optic behave like the real goods. + + + + +VIII + +PINCKNEY AND THE TWINS + +Say, when it comes to gettin' himself tangled up in ways that nobody +ever thought of before, you can play Pinckney clear across the board. +But I never knew him to send out such a hard breathin' hurry call as +the one I got the other day. It come first thing in the mornin' too, +just about the time Pinckney used to be tearin' off the second coupon +from the slumber card. I hadn't more'n got inside the Studio door +before Swifty Joe says: + +"Pinckney's been tryin' to get you on the wire." + +"Gee!" says I, "he's stayin' up late last night! Did he leave the +number?" + +He had, and it was a sixty-cent long distance call; so the first play I +makes when I rings up is to reverse the charge. + +"That you, Shorty?" says he. "Then for goodness' sake come up here on +the next train! Will you?" + +"House afire, bone in your throat, or what?" says I. + +"It's those twins," says he. + +"Bad as that?" says I. "Then I'll come." + +Wa'n't I tellin' you about the pair of mated orphans that was shipped +over to him unexpected; and how Miss Gertie, the Western blush rose +that was on the steamer with 'em, helps him out? Well, the last I +hears, Pinckney is gone on Miss Gertie and gettin' farther from sight +every minute. He's planned it out to have the knot tied right away, +hire a furnished cottage for the summer, and put in the honeymoon +gettin' acquainted with the ready made family that they starts in with. +Great scheme! Suits Pinckney right down to the ground, because it's +different. He begins by accumulatin' a pair of twins, next he finds a +girl and then he thinks about gettin' married. By the way he talked, I +thought it was all settled; but hearin' this whoop for help I +suspicioned there must be some hitch. + +There wa'n't any carnation in his buttonhole when he meets me at the +station; he hasn't shaved since the day before; and there's trouble +tracks on his brow. + +"Can't you stand married life better'n this?" says I. + +"Married!" says he. "No such luck. I never expect to be married, +Shorty; I'm not fit." + +"Is this a decision that was handed you, or was it somethin' you found +out for yourself?" says I. + +"It's my own discovery," says he. + +"Then there's hope," says I. "So the twins have been gettin' you +worried, eh? Where's Miss Gertie?" + +That gives Pinckney the hard luck cue, and while we jogs along towards +his new place in the tub cart he tells me all about what's been +happenin'. First off he owns up that he's queered his good start with +Miss Gertie by bein' in such a rush to flash the solitaire spark on +her. She ain't used to Pinckney's jumpy ways. They hadn't been +acquainted much more'n a week, and he hadn't gone through any of the +prelim's, when he ups and asks her what day it will be and whether she +chooses church or parsonage. Course she shies at that, and the next +thing Pinckney knows she's taken a train West, leavin' him with the +twins on his hands, and a nice little note sayin' that while she +appreciates the honour she's afraid he won't do. + +"And you're left at the post?" says I. + +"Yes," says he. "I couldn't take the twins and follow her, but I could +telegraph. My first message read like this, 'What's the matter with +me?' Here is her answer to that," and he digs up a yellow envelope +from his inside pocket. + +"Not domestic enough. G." It was short and crisp. + +He couldn't give me his come back to that, for he said it covered three +blanks; but it was meant to be an ironclad affidavit that he could be +just as domestic as the next man, if he only had a chance. + +"And then?" says I. + +"Read it," says he, handin' over Exhibit Two. + +"You have the chance now," it says. "Manage the twins for a month, and +I will believe you." + +And that was as far as he could get. Now, first and last, I guess +there's been dozens of girls, not countin' all kinds of widows, that's +had their lassoes out for Pinckney. He's been more or less interested +in some; but when he really runs across one that's worth taggin' she +does the sudden duck and runs him up against a game like this. + +"And you're tryin' to make good, eh?" says I. "What's your program?" + +For Pinckney, he hadn't done so worse. First he hunts up the only aunt +he's got on his list. She's a wide, heavy weight old girl, that's lost +or mislaid a couple of husbands, but hasn't ever had any kids of her +own, and puts in her time goin' to Europe and comin' back. She was +just havin' the trunks checked for Switzerland when Pinckney locates +her and tells how glad he is to see her again. Didn't she want to +change her plans and stay a month or so with him and the twins at some +nice place up in Westchester? One glimpse of Jack and Jill with their +comp'ny manners on wins her. Sure, she will! + +So it's tip to Pinckney to hire a happy home for the summer, all found. +Got any idea of how he tackles a job like that? Most folks would take +a week off and do a lot of travelling sizin' up different joints. +They'd want to know how many bath rooms, if there was malaria, and all +about the plumbin', and what the neighbours was like. But livin' at +the club don't put you wise to them tricks. Pinckney, he just rings up +a real estate agent, gets him to read off a list, says, "I'll take No. +3," and it's all over. Next day they move out. + +Was he stung? Well, not so bad as you'd think. Course, he's stuck +about two prices for rent, and he signs a lease without readin' farther +than the "Whereas"; but, barrin' a few things like haircloth furniture +and rooms that have been shut up so long they smell like the subcellars +in a brewery, he says the ranch wa'n't so bad. The outdoors was good, +anyway. There was lots of it, acres and acres, with trees, and flower +gardens, and walks, and fish ponds, and everything you could want for a +pair of youngsters that needed room. I could see that myself. + +"Say, Pinckney," says I, as we drives in through the grounds, "if you +can't get along with Jack and Jill in a place of this kind you'd better +give up. Why, all you got to do is to turn 'em loose." + +"Wait!" says he. "You haven't heard it all." + +"Let it come, then," says I. + +"We will look at the house first," says he. + +The kids wa'n't anywhere in sight; so we starts right in on the tour of +inspection. It was a big, old, slate roofed baracks, with jigsaw work +on the eaves, and a lot of dinky towers frescoed with lightnin' rods. +There was furniture to match, mostly the marble topped, black walnut +kind, that was real stylish back in the '70's. + +In the hall we runs across Snivens. He was the butler; but you +wouldn't guess it unless you was told. Kind of a cross between a horse +doctor and a missionary, I should call him--one of these short legged, +barrel podded gents, with a pair of white wind harps framin' up a putty +coloured face that was ornamented with a set of the solemnest lookin' +lamps you ever saw off a stuffed owl. + +"Gee, Pinckney!" says I, "who unloaded that on you!" + +"Snivens came with the place," says he. + +"He looks it," says I. "I should think that face would sour milk. +Don't he scare the twins?" + +"Frighten Jack and Jill?" says Pinckney. "Not if he had horns and a +tail! They seem to take him as a joke. But he does make all the rest +of us feel creepy." + +"Why don't you write him his release?" says I. + +"Can't," says Pinckney. "He is one of the conditions in the +contract--he and the urns." + +"The urns?" says I. + +"Yes," says Pinckney, sighin' deep. "We are coming to them now. There +they are." + +With that we steps into one of the front rooms, and he lines me up +before a white marble mantel that is just as cheerful and tasty as some +of them pieces in Greenwood Cemetery. On either end was what looks to +be a bronze flower pot. + +"To your right," says Pinckney, "is Grandfather; to your left, Aunt +Sabina." + +"What's the josh?" says I. + +"Shorty," says he, heavin' up another sigh, "you are now in the +presence of sacred dust. These urns contain the sad fragments of two +great Van Rusters." + +"Fragments is good," says I. "Couldn't find many to keep, could they? +Did they go up with a powder mill, or fall into a stone crusher?" + +"Cremated," says Pinckney. + +Then I gets the whole story of the two old maids that Pinckney rented +the place from. They were the last of the clan. In their day the Van +Rusters had headed the Westchester battin' list, ownin' about half the +county and gettin' their names in the paper reg'lar. But they'd been +peterin' out for the last hundred years or so, and when it got down to +the Misses Van Rusters, a pair of thin edged, old battle axes that had +never wore anything but crape and jet bonnets, there wa'n't much left +of the estate except the mortgages and the urns. + +Rentin' the place furnished was the last card in the box, and Pinckney +turns up as the willin' victim. When he comes to size up what he's +drawn, and has read over the lease, he finds he's put his name to a lot +he didn't dream about. Keepin' Snivens on the pay roll, promisin' not +to disturb the urns, usin' the furniture careful, and havin' the grass +cut in the private buryin' lot was only a few that he could think of +off hand. + +"You ain't a tenant, Pinckney," says I; "you're a philanthropist." + +"I feel that way," says he. "At first, I didn't know which was worse, +Snivens or the urns. But I know now--it is the urns. They are driving +me to distraction." + +"Ah, do a lap!" says I. "Course, I give in that there might be better +parlour ornaments than potted ancestors, specially when they belong to +someone else; but they don't come extra, do they? I thought it was the +twins that was worryin' you?" + +"That is where the urns come in," says he. "Here the youngsters are +now. Step back in here and watch." + +He pulls me into the next room, where we could see through the +draperies. There's a whoop and a hurrah outside, the door bangs, and +in tumbles the kids, with a nurse taggin' on behind. The youngsters +makes a bee line for the mantelpiece and sings out: + +"Hello, Grandfather! Hello, Aunt Sabina! Look what we brought this +time!" + +"Stop it! Stop it!" says the nurse, her eyes buggin' out. + +"Boo! Fraid cat!" yells the twins, and nursy skips. Then they begins +to unload the stuff they've lugged in, pilin' it up alongside the urns, +singin' out like auctioneers, "There's some daisies for Aunt Sabina! +And wild strawberries for Grandfather! And a mud turtle for aunty! +And a bird's nest for Grandfather!" windin' up the performance by +joinin' hands and goin' through a reg'lar war dance. + +Pinckney explains how this was only a sample of what had been goin' on +ever since they heard Snivens tellin' what was in the urns. They'd +stood by, listenin' with their mouths and ears wide open, and then +they'd asked questions until everyone was wore out tryin' to answer +'em. But the real woe came when the yarn got around among the servants +and they begun leavin' faster'n Pinckney's Aunt Mary could send out new +ones from town. + +"Maybe the kids'll get tired of it in a few days," says I. + +"Exactly what I thought," says Pinckney; "but they don't. It's the +best game they can think of, and if I allow them they will stay in here +by the hour, cutting up for the benefit of Grandfather and Aunt Sabina. +It's morbid. It gets on one's nerves. My aunt says she can't stand it +much longer, and if she goes I shall have to break up. If you're a +friend of mine, Shorty, you'll think of some way to get those +youngsters interested in something else." + +"Why don't you buy 'em a pony cart?" says I. + +"I've bought two," says he; "and games and candy, and parrots and +mechanical toys enough to stock a store. Still they keep this thing +up." + +"And if you quit the domestic game, the kids have to go to some home, +and you go back to the club?" says I. + +"That's it," says he. + +"And when Miss Gertie comes on, and finds you've renigged, it's all up +between you and her, eh?" says I. + +Pinckney groans. + +"G'wan!" says I. "Go take a sleep." + +With that I steps in and shows myself to the kids. They yells and +makes a dash for me. Inside of two minutes I've been introduced to +Grandfather and Aunt Sabina, made to do a duck before both jars, and am +planted on the haircloth sofa with a kid holdin' either arm, while they +puts me through the third degree. They want information. + +"Did you ever see folks burned and put in jars?" says Jack. + +"No," says I; "but I've seen pickled ones jugged. I hear you've got +some ponies." + +"Two," says Jill; "spotted ones. Would you want to be burned after you +was a deader?" + +"Better after than before," says I. "Where's the ponies now?" + +"What do the ashes look like?" says Jack. + +"Are there any clinkers?" says Jill. + +Say, I was down and out in the first round. For every word I could get +in about ponies they got in ten about them bloomin' jars, and when I +leaves 'em they was organisin' a circus, with Grandfather and Aunt +Sabina supposed to be occupyin' the reserved seats. Honest, it was +enough to chill the spine of a morgue keeper. By good luck I runs +across Snivens snoopin' through the hall. + +"See here, you!" says I. "I want to talk to you." + +"Beg pardon, sir," says he, backin' off, real stiff and dignified; +"but----" + +"Ah, chuck it!" says I, reachin' out and gettin' hold of his collar, +playful like. "You've been listenin' at the door. Now what do you +think of the way them kids is carryin' on in there?" + +"It's outrageous, sir!" says he, puffin' up his cheeks, "It's +scandalous! They're young imps, so they are, sir." + +"Want to stop all that nonsense?" says I. + +He says he does. + +"Then," says I, "you take them jars down cellar and hide 'em in the +coal bin." + +He holds up both hands at that. "It can't be done, sir," says he. +"They've been right there for twenty years without bein' so much as +moved. They were very superior folks, sir, very superior." + +"Couldn't you put 'em in the attic, then?" says I. + +He couldn't. He says it's in the lease that the jars wa'n't to be +touched. + +"Snivens," says I, shovin' a twenty at him, "forget the lease." + +Say, he looks at that yellowback as longin' as an East Side kid sizin' +up a fruit cart. Then he gives a shiver and shakes his head. "Not for +a thousand, sir," says he. "I wouldn't dare." + +"You're an old billygoat, Snivens," says I. + +And that's all the good I did with my little whirl at the game; but I +tries to cheer Pinckney up by tellin' him the kids wa'n't doin' any +harm. + +"But they are," says Pinckney. "They're raising the very mischief with +my plans. The maids are scared to death. They say the house is +haunted. Four of them gave notice to-day. Aunt Mary is packing her +trunks, and that means that I might as well give up. I'll inquire +about a home to send them to this afternoon." + +I guess it was about four o'clock, and I was tryin' to take a snooze in +a hammock on the front porch, when I hears the twins makin' life +miserable for the gard'ner that was fixin' the rose bushes. + +"Lemme dig, Pat," says Jill. + +"G'wan, ye young tarrier!" says Pat + +"Can't I help some?" says Jack. + +"Yes, if ye'll go off about a mile," says Pat. + +"Why don't the roses grow any more?" asks Jill. + +"It's needin' ashes on 'em they are," says Pat. + +"Ashes!" says Jack. + +"Ashes!" says Jill. + +Then together, "Oh, we know where there's ashes--lots!" + +"We'll fetch 'em!" says Jill, and with that I hears a scamperin' up the +steps. + +I was just gettin' up to chase after 'em, when I has another thought. +"What's the use, anyway?" thinks I. "It's their last stunt." So I +turns over and pretends to snooze. + +When Pinckney shows up about six the twins has the pony carts out and +is doin' a chariot race around the drive, as happy and innocent as a +couple of pink angels. Then they eats their supper and goes to bed, +with nary a mention of sayin' good-night to the jars, like they'd been +in the habit of doin'. Next mornin' they gets up as frisky as colts +and goes out to play wild Indians in the bushes. They was at it all +the forenoon, and never a word about Grandfather and Aunt Sabina. +Pinckney notices it, but he don't dare speak of it for fear he'll break +the spell. About two he comes in with a telegram. + +"Miss Gertie's coming on the four o'clock train," says he, lookin' wild. + +"You don't act like you was much tickled," says I. + +"She's sure to find out what a muss I've made of things," says he. +"The moment she gets here I expect the twins will start up that +confounded rigmarole about Grandfather and Aunt Sabina again. Oh, I +can hear them doing it!" + +I let it go at that. But while he's away at the station the kitchen +talk breaks loose. The cook and two maids calls for Aunt Mary, tells +her what they think of a place that has canned spooks in the parlour, +and starts for the trolley. Aunt Mary gets her bonnet on and has her +trunks lugged down on the front porch. That's the kind of a reception +we has for Miss Gertrude and her mother when they show up. + +"Anything particular the matter?" whispers Pinckney to me, as he hands +the guests out of the carriage. + +"Nothin' much," says I. "Me and Snivens and the twins is left. The +others have gone or are goin'." + +"What is the matter?" says Miss Gertie. + +"Everything," says Pinckney. "I've made a flat failure. Shorty, you +bring in the twins and we'll end this thing right now." + +Well, I rounds up Jack and Jill, and after they've hugged Miss Gertie +until her travelin' dress is fixed for a week at the cleaners', +Pinckney leads us all into the front room. The urns was there on the +mantel; but the kids don't even give 'em a look. + +"Come on, you young rascals!" says he, as desperate as if he was +pleadin' guilty to blowin' up a safe. "Tell Miss Gertrude about +Grandfather and Aunt Sabina." + +"Oh," says Jack, "they're out in the flower bed." + +"We fed 'em to the rose bushes," says Jill. + +"We didn't like to lose 'em," says Jack; "but Pat needed the ashes." + +"It's straight goods," says I; "I was there." + +And say, when Miss Gertrude hears the whole yarn about the urns, and +the trouble they've made Pinckney, she stops laughin' and holds out one +hand to him over Jill's shoulder. + +"You poor boy!" says she. "Didn't you ever read Omar's-- + + "I sometimes think that never blows so red + The rose, as where some buried Cćsar bled'?" + + +Say, who was this duck Omar? And what's that got to do with +fertilisin' flower beds with the pulverised relations of your +landladies? I give it up. All I know is that Pinckney's had them jars +refilled with A-1 wood ashes, that Aunt Mary managed to 'phone up a new +set of help before mornin', and that when I left Pinckney and Miss +Gertie and the twins was' strollin' about, holdin' hands and lookin' to +be havin' the time of their lives. + +Domestic? Say, a clear Havana Punko, made in Connecticut, ain't in it +with him. + + + + +IX + +A LINE ON PEACOCK ALLEY + +What's the use of travelin', when there's more fun stayin' home? +Scenery? Say, the scenery that suits me best is the kind they keep lit +up all night. There's a lot of it between 14th-st. and the park. +Folks? Why, you stand on the corner of 42d and Broadway long enough +and you won't miss seein' many of 'em. They most all get here sooner +or later. + +Now, look at what happens last evenin'. I was just leanin' up against +the street door, real comfortable and satisfied after a good dinner, +when Swifty Joe comes down from the Studio and says there's a party by +the name of Merrity been callin' me up on the 'phone. + +"Merrity?" says I. "That sounds kind of joyous and familiar. Didn't +he give any letters for the front of it?" + +"Nothin' but Hank," says Swifty. + +"Oh, yes," says I, gettin' the clue. "What did Hank have to say?" + +"Said he was a friend of yours, and if you didn't have nothin' better +on the hook he'd like to see you around the Wisteria," says Swifty. + +With that I lets loose a snicker. Honest, I couldn't help it. + +"Ah, chee!" says Swifty. "Is it a string, or not? I might get a laugh +out of this myself." + +"Yes, and then again you mightn't," says I. "Maybe it'd bring on +nothin' but a brain storm. You wait until I find out if it's safe to +tell you." + +With that I starts down towards 34th-st to see if it was really so +about Hank Merrity; for the last glimpse I got of him he was out in +Colorado, wearin' spurs and fringed buckskin pants, and lookin' to be +as much of a fixture there as Pike's Peak. + +It was while I was trainin' for one of my big matches, that I met up +with Hank. We'd picked out Bedelia for a camp. You've heard of +Bedelia? No? Then you ought to study the map. Anyway, if you'd been +followin' the sportin' news reg'lar a few years back, you'd remember. +There was a few days about that time when more press despatches was +filed from Bedelia than from Washington. And the pictures that was +sent east; "Shorty Ropin' Steers"--"Mr. McCabe Swingin' a Bronco by the +Tail," and all such truck. You know the kind of stuff them newspaper +artists strains their imaginations on. + +Course, I was too busy to bother about what they did to me, and didn't +care, anyway. But it was different with Hank. Oh, they got him too! +You see, he had a ranch about four miles north of our camp, and one of +my reg'lar forenoon stunts was to gallop up there, take a big swig of +mountain spring water--better'n anything you can buy in bottles--chin a +few minutes with Hank and the boys, and then dog trot it back. + +That was how the boss of Merrity's ranch came to get his picture in the +sportin' page alongside of a diagram of the four different ways I had +of peelin' a boiled potato. Them was the times when I took my exercise +with a sportin' editor hangin' to each elbow, and fellows with drawin' +pads squattin' all over the place. Just for a josh I lugged one of the +papers that had a picture of Hank up to the ranch, expectin' when he +saw it, he'd want to buckle on his guns and start down after the gent +that did it. + +You couldn't have blamed him much if he had; for Hank's features wa'n't +cut on what you might call classic lines. He looked more like a copy +of an old master that had been done by a sign painter on the side of a +barn. Not that he was so mortal homely, but his colour scheme was kind +of surprisin'. His complexion was a shade or two lighter than a new +saddle, except his neck, which was a flannel red, with lovely brown +speckles on it; and his eyes was sort of buttermilk blue, with eyebrows +that you had to guess at. His chief decoration though, was a lip +whisker that was a marvel--one of these ginger coloured droopers that +took root way down below his mouth corners and looked like it was there +to stay. + +But up on the ranch and down in Bedelia I never heard anyone pass +remarks on Hank Merrity's looks. He wa'n't no bad man either, but as +mild and gentle a beef raiser as you'd want to see. He seemed to be +quite a star among the cow punchers, and after I'd got used to his +peculiar style of beauty I kind of took to him, too. + +The picture didn't r'ile him a bit. He sat there lookin' at it for a +good five minutes without sayin' a word, them buttermilk eyes just +starin', kind of blank and dazed. Then he looks up, as pleased as a +kid, and says, "Wall, I'll be cussed! Mighty slick, ain't it?" + +Next he hollers for Reney--that was Mrs. Merrity. She was a good +sized, able bodied wild rose, Reney was; not such a bad looker, but a +little shy on style. A calico wrapper with the sleeves rolled up, a +lot of crinkly brown hair wavin' down her back, and an old pair of +carpet slippers on her feet, was Reney's mornin' costume. I shouldn't +wonder but what it did for afternoon and evenin' as well. + +Mrs. Merrity was more tickled with the picture than Hank. She stared +from the paper to him and back again, actin' like she thought Hank had +done somethin' she ought to be proud of, but couldn't exactly place. + +"Sho, Hank!" says she. "I wisht they'd waited until you'd put on your +Sunday shirt and slicked up a little." + +He was a real torrid proposition when he did slick up. I saw him do it +once, a couple of nights before I broke trainin', when they was goin' +to have a dance up to the ranch. His idea of makin' a swell toilet was +to take a hunk of sheep tallow and grease his boots clear to the tops. +Then he ducks his head into the horse trough and polishes the back of +his neck with a bar of yellow soap. Next he dries himself off on a +meal sack, uses half a bottle of scented hair oil on his Buffalo Bill +thatch, pulls on a striped gingham shirt, ties a red silk handkerchief +around his throat, and he's ready to receive comp'ny. I didn't see +Mrs. Merrity after she got herself fixed for the ball; but Hank told me +she was goin' to wear a shirt waist that she'd sent clear to Kansas +City for. + +Oh, we got real chummy before I left. He came down to see me off the +day I started for Denver, and while we was waitin' for the train he +told me the story of his life: How he'd been rustlin' for himself ever +since he'd graduated from an orphan asylum in Illinois; the different +things he'd worked at before he learned the cow business; and how, when +he'd first met Reney slingin' crockery in a railroad restaurant, and +married her on sight, they'd started out with a cash capital of one +five-dollar bill and thirty-eight cents in change, to make their +fortune. Then he told me how many steers and yearlings he owned, and +how much grazin' land he'd got inside of wire. + +"That's doin' middlin' well, ain't it?" says he. + +Come to figure up, it was, and I told him I didn't see why he wa'n't in +a fair way to find himself cuttin' into the grape some day. + +"It all depends on the Jayhawker," says he. "I've got a third int'rest +in that. Course, I ain't hollerin' a lot about it yet, for it ain't +much more'n a hole in the ground; but if they ever strike the yellow +there maybe we'll come on and take a look at New York." + +"It's worth it," says I. "Hunt me up when you do." + +"I shore will," says Hank. "Good luck!" + +And the last I see of him he was standin' there in his buckskin pants, +gawpin' at the steam cars. + +Now, I ain't been spendin' my time ever since wonderin' what was +happenin' to Hank. You know how it is. Maybe I've had him in mind two +or three times. But when I gets that 'phone message I didn't have any +trouble about callin' up my last view of him. So, when it come to +buttin' into a swell Fifth-ave. hotel and askin' for Hank Merrity, I +has a sudden spasm of bashfulness. It didn't last long. + +"If Hank was good enough for me to chum with in Bedelia," says I, "he +ought to have some standin' with me here. There wa'n't anything I +could have asked that he wouldn't have done for me out there, and I +guess if he needs some one to show him where Broadway is, and tell him +to take his pants out of his boot tops, it's up to me to do it." + +Just the same, when I gets up to the desk, I whispers it confidential +to the clerk. If he'd come back with a hee-haw I wouldn't have said a +word. I was expectin' somethin' of the kind. But never a chuckle. He +don't even grin. + +"Hank Merrity?" says he, shakin' his head. "We have a guest here, +though, by the name of Henry Merrity--Mr. Henry Merrity." + +"That's him," says I. "All the Henrys are Hanks when you get west of +Omaha. Where'll I find him?" + +I was hopin' he'd be up in his room, practisin' with' the electric +light buttons, or bracin' himself for a ride down in the elevator; but +there was no answer to the call on the house 'phone; so I has to wait +while a boy goes out with my card on a silver tray, squeakin', "Mister +Merrity! Mis-ter Merrity!" Five minutes later I was towed through the +palms into the Turkish smokin' room, and the next thing I knew I was +lined up in front of a perfect gent. + +Say, if it hadn't been for them buttermilk eyes, you never could have +made me believe it was him. Honest, them eyes was all there was left +of the Hank Merrity I'd known in Bedelia. It wa'n't just the clothes, +either, though he had 'em all on,--op'ra lid, four-button white vest, +shiny shoes, and the rest,--it was what had happened to his face that +was stunnin' me. + +The lip drooper had been wiped out--not just shaved off, mind you, but +scrubbed clean. The russet colour was gone, too. He was as pink and +white and smooth as a roastin' pig that's been scraped and sandpapered +for a window display in a meat shop. You've noticed that electric +light complexion some of our Broadway rounders gets on? Well, Hank had +it. Even the neck freckles had got the magic touch. + +Course, he hadn't been turned into any he Venus, at that; but as he +stood, costume and all, he looked as much a part of New York as the +Flatiron Buildin'. And while I'm buggin' my eyes out and holdin' my +mouth open, he grabs me by the hand and slaps me on the back. + +"Why, hello, Shorty! I'm mighty glad to see you. Put 'er there!" says +he. + +"Gee!" says I. "Then it's true! Now I guess the thing for me to do is +to own up to Maude Adams that I believe in fairies. Hank, who did it?" + +"Did what?" says he. + +"Why, made your face over and put on the Fifth-ave. gloss?" says I. + +"Do I look it?" says he, grinnin'. "Would I pass?" + +"Pass!" says I. "Hank, they could use you for a sign. Lookin' as you +do now, you could go to any one night stand in the country and be +handed the New York papers without sayin' a word. What I want to know, +though, is how it happened?" + +"Happen?" says he. "Shorty, such things don't come by accident. You +buy 'em. You go through torture for 'em." + +"Say, Hank," says I, "you don't mean to say you've been up against the +skinologists?" + +Well, he had. They'd kept his face in a steam box by the hour, +scrubbed him with pumice stone, electrocuted his lip fringe, made him +wear a sleepin' mask, and done everything but peel him alive. + +"Look at that for a paw!" says he. "Ain't it lady-like?" + +It was. Every fingernail showed the half moon, and the palm was as +soft as a baby's. + +"You must have been makin' a business of it," says I. "How long has +this thing been goin' on?" + +"Nearly four months," says Hank, heavin' a groan. "Part of that time I +put in five hours a day; but I've got 'em scaled down to two now. It's +been awful, Shorty, but it had to be done." + +"How was that?" says I. + +"On Reney's account," says he. "She's powerful peart at savvyin' +things, Reney is. Why, when we struck town I was wearin' a leather +trimmed hat and eatin' with my knife, just as polite as I knew how. We +hadn't been here a day before she saw that something was wrong. +'Hank,' says she, 'this ain't where we belong. Let's go back.'--'What +for?' says I.--'Shucks!' says she. 'Can't you see? These folks are +different from us. Look at 'em!' Well, I did, and it made me mad. +'Reney,' says I,' I'll allow there is something wrong with us, but I +reckon it ain't bone deep. There's such a thing as burnin' one brand +over another, ain't there? Suppose we give it a whirl?' That's what +we done too, and I'm beginnin' to suspicion we've made good." + +"I guess you have, Hank," says I; "but ain't it expensive? You haven't +gone broke to do it, have you?" + +"Broke!" says he, smilin'. "Guess you ain't heard what they're takin' +out of the Jayhawker these days. Why, I couldn't spend it all if I had +four hands. But come on. Let's find Reney and go to a show, +somewheres." + +Course, seein' Hank had kind of prepared me for a change in Mrs. +Merrity; so I braces myself for the shock and tries to forget the +wrapper and carpet slippers. But you know the kind of birds that roost +along Peacock Alley? There was a double row of 'em holdin' down the +arm chairs on either side of the corridor, and lookin' like a livin' +exhibit of spring millinery. I tried hard to imagine Reney in that +bunch; but it was no go. The best I could do was throw up a picture of +a squatty female in a Kansas City shirt waist. And then, all of a +sudden, we fetches up alongside a fairy in radium silk and lace, with +her hair waved to the minute, and carryin' enough sparks to light up +the subway. She was the star of the collection, and I nearly loses my +breath when Hank says: + +"Reney, you remember Shorty McCabe, don't you?" + +"Ah, rully!" says she liftin' up a pair of gold handled eye glasses and +takin' a peek. "Chawmed to meet you again, Mr. McCabe." + +"M-m-me too," says I. It was all the conversation I had ready to pass +out. + +Maybe I acted some foolish; but for the next few minutes I didn't do +anything but stand there, sizin' her up and inspectin' the +improvements. There hadn't been any half way business about her. If +Hank was a good imitation, Mrs. Merrity was the real thing. She was +it. I've often wondered where they all came from, them birds of +Paradise that we see floatin' around such places; but now I've got a +line on 'em. They ain't all raised in New York. It's pin spots on the +map like Bedelia that keeps up the supply. + +Reney hadn't stopped with takin' courses at the beauty doctors and +goin' the limit on fancy clothes. She'd been plungin' on conversation +lessons, voice culture, and all kind of parlour tricks. She'd been +keepin' her eyes and ears open too, takin' her models from real life; +and the finished product was somethin' you'd say had never been west of +Broadway or east of Fourth-ave. As for her ever doin' such a thing as +juggle crockery, it was almost a libel to think of it. + +"Like it here in town, do you?" says I, firin' it at both of 'em. + +"Like it!" says Hank. "See what it's costin' us. We got to like it." + +She gives him a look that must have felt like an icicle slipped down +his neck. "Certainly we enjoy New York," says she. "It's our home, +don'cha know." + +"Gosh!" says I. I didn't mean to let it slip out, but it got past me +before I knew. + +Mrs. Merrity only raises her eyebrows and smiles, as much as to say, +"Oh, what can one expect?" + +That numbs me so much I didn't have life enough to back out of goin' to +the theatre with 'em, as Hank had planned. Course, we has a box, and +it wasn't until she'd got herself placed well up in front and was +lookin' the house over through the glasses that I gets a chance for a +few remarks with Hank. + +"Is she like that all the time now?" I whispers. + +"You bet!" says he. "Don't she do it good?" + +Say, there wa'n't any mistakin' how the act hit Hank. "You ought to +see her with her op'ra rig on, though--tiara, and all that," says he. + +"Go reg'lar?" says I. + +"Tuesdays and Fridays," says he. "We leases the box for them nights." + +That gets me curious to know how they puts in their time, so I has him +give me an outline. It was something like this: Coffee and rolls at +ten-thirty A. M.; hair dressers, manicures, and massage artists till +twelve-thirty; drivin' in the brougham till two; an hour off for lunch; +more drivin' and shoppin' till five; nap till six; then the maids and +valets and so on to fix 'em up for dinner; theatre or op'ra till +eleven; supper at some swell café; and the pillows about two A. M. + +Then the curtain goes up for the second act, and I see Hank had got his +eyes glued on the stage. As we'd come late, I hadn't got the hang of +the piece before, but now I notices it's one of them gunless Wild West +plays that's hit Broadway so hard. It was a breezy kind of a scene +they showed up. To one side was an almost truly log cabin, with a tin +wash basin hung on a nail just outside the front door and some real +firewood stacked up under the window. Off up the middle was mountains +piled up, one on top of the other, clear up into the flies. + +The thing didn't strike me at first, until I hears Hank dig up a sigh +that sounds as if it started from his shoes. Then I tumbles. This +stage settin' was almost a dead ringer for his old ranch out north of +Bedelia. In a minute in comes a bunch of stage cowboys. They was a +lot cleaner lookin' than any I ever saw around Merrity's, and some of +'em was wearin' misfit whiskers; but barrin' a few little points like +that they fitted into the picture well enough. Next we hears a whoop, +and in bounces the leadin' lady, rigged out in beaded leggin's, knee +length skirt, leather coat, and Shy Ann hat, with her red hair flyin' +loose. + +Say, I'm a good deal of a come-on when it comes to the ranch business, +but I've seen enough to know that if any woman had showed up at +Merrity's place in that costume the cow punchers would have blushed +into their hats and took for the timber line. I looks at Hank, +expectin' to see him wearin' a grin; but he wa'n't. He's 'most tarin' +his eyes out, lookin' at them painted mountains and that four-piece log +cabin. And would you believe it, Mrs. Merrity was doin' the same! I +couldn't see that either of 'em moved durin' the whole act, or took +their eyes off that scenery, and when the curtain goes down they just +naturally reaches out and grips each other by the hand. For quite some +time they didn't say a word. Then Reney breaks the spell. + +"You noticed it, didn't you, Hank?" says she. + +"Couldn't help it, Reney!" says he huskily. + +"I expect the old place is looking awful nice, just about now," she +goes on. + +Hank was swallowin' hard just then, so all he could do was nod, and a +big drop of brine leaks out of one of them buttermilk blue eyes. Reney +saw it. + +"Hank," says she, still grippin' his hand and talkin' throaty--"let's +quit and go back!" + +Say, maybe you never heard one of them flannel shirts call the cows +home from the next county. A lot of folks who'd paid good money to +listen to a weak imitation was treated to the genuine article. + +"We-e-e-ough! Glory be!" yells Hank, jumpin' up and knockin' over a +chair. + +[Illustration: "WE--E--E--OUGH! GLORY BE!" YELLS HANK, LETTIN' OUT AN +EARSPLITTER] + +It was an ear splitter, that was. Inside of a minute there was a +special cop and four ushers makin' a rush for the back of our box. + +"Here, here now!" says one. "You'll have to leave." + +"Leave!" says Hank. "Why, gol durn you white faced tenderfeet, you +couldn't hold us here another minute with rawhide ropes! Come on, +Reney; maybe there's a night train!" + +They didn't go quite so sudden as all that. Reney got him to wait +until noon next day, so she could fire a few maids and send a bale or +so of Paris gowns to the second hand shop; but they made me sit up till +'most mornin' with 'em, while they planned out the kind of a ranch de +luxe they was goin' to build when they got back to Bedelia. As near as +I could come to it, there was goin' to be four Chinese cooks always +standin' ready to fry griddle cakes for any neighbours that might drop +in, a dance hall with a floor of polished mahogany, and not a bath tub +on the place. What they wanted was to get back among their old +friends, put on their old clothes, and enjoy themselves in their own +way for the rest of their lives. + + + + +X + +SHORTY AND THE STRAY + +Say, I don't know whether I'll ever get to be a reg'lar week-ender or +not, but I've been makin' another stab at it. What's the use ownin' +property in the country house belt if you don't use it now and then? +So last Saturday, after I shuts up the Studio, I scoots out to my place +in Primrose Park. + +Well, I puts in the afternoon with Dennis Whaley, who's head gardener +and farm superintendent, and everything else a three-acre plot will +stand for. Then, about supper time, as I'm just settlin' myself on the +front porch with my heels on the stoop rail, wonderin' how folks can +manage to live all the time where nothin' ever happens, I hears a +chug-chuggin', and up the drive rolls a cute little one-seater bubble, +with nobody aboard but a Boston terrier and a boy. + +"Chee!" thinks I, "they'll be givin' them gasolene carts to babies +next. Wonder what fetches the kid in here?" + +Maybe he was a big ten or a small twelve; anyway, he wa'n't more. He's +one of these fine haired, light complected youngsters, that a few years +ago would have had yellow Fauntleroy curls, and been rigged out in a +lace collar and a black velvet suit, and had a nurse to lead him around +by the hand. But the new crop of young Astergould Thickwads is bein' +trained on different lines. This kid was a good sample. His tow +coloured hair is just long enough to tousle nice, and he's bare headed +at that. Then he's got on corduroy knickers, a khaki jacket, black +leather leggin's, and gauntlet gloves, and he looks almost as healthy +as if he was poor. + +"Hello, youngster!" says I. "Did you lose the shuffer overboard?" + +"Beg pardon," says he; "but I drive my own machine." + +"Oh!" says I. "I might have known by the costume." + +By this time he's standin' up with his hand to his ear, squintin' out +through the trees to the main road, like he was listenin' for +somethin'. In a second he hears one of them big six-cylinder cars go +hummin' past, and it seems to be what he was waitin' for. + +"Goin' to stop, are you?" says I. + +"Thank you," says he, "I will stay a little while, if you don't mind," +and he proceeds to shut off the gasolene and climb out. The dog +follows him. + +"Givin' some one the slip?" says I. + +"Oh, no," says he real prompt. "I--I've been in a race, that's all." + +"Ye-e-es?" says I. "Had a start, didn't you?" + +"A little," says he. + +With that he sits down on the steps, snuggles the terrier up alongside +of him, and begins to look me and the place over careful, without +sayin' any more. Course, that ain't the way boys usually act, unless +they've got stage fright, and this one didn't seem at all shy. As near +as I could guess, he was thinkin' hard, so I let him take his time. I +figures out from his looks, and his showin' up in a runabout, that he's +come from some of them big country places near by, and that when he +gets ready he'll let out what he's after. Sure enough, pretty soon he +opens up. + +"Wouldn't you like to buy the machine, sir?" says he. + +"Selling out, are you?" says I. "Well, what's your askin' price for a +rig of that kind?" + +He sizes me up for a minute, and then sends out a feeler. "Would five +dollars be too much?" + +"No," says I, "I shouldn't call that a squeeze, providin' you threw in +the dog." + +He looks real worried then, and hugs the terrier up closer than ever. +"I couldn't sell Togo," says he. "You--you wouldn't want him too, +would you?" + +When I sees that it wouldn't take much more to get them big blue eyes +of his to leakin', I puts him easy on the dog question. "But what's +your idea of sellin' the bubble?" says I. + +"Why," says he, "I won't need it any longer. I'm going to be a +motorman on a trolley car." + +"That's a real swell job," says I. "But how will the folks at home +take it?" + +"The folks at home?" says he, lookin' me straight in the eye. "Why, +there aren't any. I haven't any home, you know." + +Honest, the way he passed out that whopper was worth watchin'. It was +done as cool and scientific as a real estate man takin' oath there +wa'n't a mosquito in the whole county. + +"Then you're just travelin' around loose, eh?" says I. "Where'd you +strike from to-day?" + +"Chicago," says he. + +"Do tell!" says I. "That's quite a day's run. You must have left +before breakfast." + +"I had breakfast early," says he. + +"Dinner in Buffalo?" says I. + +"I didn't stop for dinner," says he. + +"In that case--er--what's the name?" says I. + +"Mister Smith," says he. + +"Easy name to remember," says I. + +"Ye-e-es. I'd rather you called me Gerald, though," says he. + +"Good," says I. "Well, Gerald, seein' as you've made a long jump since +breakfast, what do you say to grubbin' up a little with me, eh?" + +That strikes him favourable, and as Mother Whaley is just bringin' in +the platter, we goes inside and sits down, Togo and all. He sure +didn't fall to like a half starved kid; but maybe that was because he +was so busy lookin' at Mrs. Whaley. She ain't much on the French maid +type, that's a fact. Her uniform is a checked apron over a faded red +wrapper, and she has a way of puggin' her hair up in a little knob that +makes her face look like one of the kind they cut out of a cocoanut. + +Gerald eyes her for a while; then he leans over to me and whispers, "Is +this the butler's night off?" + +"Yes," says I. "He has seven a week. This is one of 'em." + +After he's thought that over he grins. "I see," says he. "You means +you haven't a butler? Why, I thought everyone did." + +"There's a few of us struggles along without," says I. "We don't brag +about it, though. But where do you keep your butler now, Mr. Gerald?" + +That catches him with his guard down, and he begins to look mighty +puzzled. + +"Oh, come," says I, "you might's well own up. You've brought the +runaway act right down to the minute, son; but barrin' the details, +it's the same old game. I done the same when I was your age, only +instead of runnin' off in a thousand-dollar bubble, I sneaked into an +empty freight car." + +"Did you?" says he, his eyes openin' wide. "Was it nice, riding in the +freight car?" + +"Never had so much fun out of a car ride since," says I. "But I was on +the war path then. My outfit was a blank cartridge pistol, a scalpin' +knife hooked from the kitchen, and a couple of nickel lib'ries that +told all about Injun killin'. Don't lay out to slaughter any redskins, +do you?" + +He looks kind of weary, and shakes his head. + +"Well, runnin' a trolley car has its good points, I s'pose," says I; +"but I wouldn't tackle it for a year or so if I was you. You'd better +give me your 'phone number, and I'll ring up the folks, so they won't +be worryin' about you." + +But say, this Gerald boy, alias Mr. Smith, don't fall for any smooth +talk like that. He just sets his jaws hard and remarks, quiet like, "I +guess I'd better be going." + +"Where to?" says I. + +"New Haven ought to be a good place to sell the machine," says he. "I +can get a job there too." + +At that I goes to pumpin' him some more, and he starts in to hand out +the weirdest line of yarns I ever listened to. Maybe he wa'n't a very +skilful liar, but he was a willin' one. Quick as I'd tangle him up on +one story, he'd lie himself out and into another. He accounts for his +not havin' any home in half a dozen different ways, sometimes killin' +off his relations one by one, and then bunchin' 'em in a railroad wreck +or an earthquake. But he sticks to Chicago as the place where he lived +last, although the nearest he can get to the street number is by sayin' +it was somewhere near Central Park. + +"That happens to be in New York," says I. + +"There are two in Chicago," says he. + +"All right, Gerald," says I. "I give up. We'll let it go that you're +playin' a lone hand; but before you start out again you'd better get a +good night's rest here. What do you say?" + +He didn't need much urgin'; so we runs the bubble around into the +stable, and I tucks him and Togo away together in the spare bed. + +"Who's the little lad?" says Dennis to me. + +"For one thing," says I, "he's an honourary member of the Ananias Club. +If I can dig up any more information between now and mornin', Dennis, +I'll let you know." + +First I calls up two or three village police stations along the line; +but they hadn't had word of any stray kid. + +"That's funny," thinks I. "If he'd lived down in Hester-st., there'd +be four thousand cops huntin' him up by this time." + +But it wa'n't my cue to do the frettin'; so I lets things rest as they +are, only takin' a look at the kid before I turns in, to see that he +was safe. And say, that one look gets me all broke up; for when I +tiptoes in with the candle I finds that pink and white face of his all +streaked up with cryin', and he has one arm around Togo, like he +thought that terrier was all the friend he had left. + +Gee! but that makes me feel mean! Why, if I'd known he was goin' to +blubber himself to sleep that way, I'd hung around and cheered him up. +He'd been so brash about this runaway business, though, that I never +suspicioned he'd go to pieces the minute he was left alone. And they +look different when they're asleep, don't they? I guess I must have +put in the next two hours' wonderin' how it was that a nice, bright +youngster like that should come to quit home. If he'd come from some +tenement house, where it was a case of pop bein' on the island, and maw +rushin' the can and usin' the poker on him, you wouldn't think anything +of it. But here he has his bubble, and his high priced terrier, and +things like that, and yet he does the skip. Well, there wa'n't any +answer. + +Not hearin' him stirrin' when I gets up in the mornin', I makes up my +mind to let him snooze as long as he likes. So I has breakfast and +goes out front with the mornin' papers. It got to be after nine +o'clock, and I was just thinkin' of goin' up to see how he was gettin' +on, when I sees a big green tourin' car come dashin' down into the park +and turn into my front drive. There was a crowd in it; but, before I +can get up, out flips a stunnin' lookin' bunch of dry goods, all veils +and silk dust coat, and wants to know if I'm Shorty McCabe: which I +says I am. + +"Then you have my boy here, have you?" she shoots out. And, say, by +the suspicious way she looks at me, you'd thought I'd been breakin' +into some nursery. I'll admit she was a beaut, all right; but the hard +look I gets from them big black eyes didn't win me for a cent. + +"Maybe if I knew who you was, ma'am," says I, "we'd get along faster." + +That don't soothe her a bit. She gives me one glare, and then whirls +around and shouts to a couple of tough lookin' bruisers that was in the +car. + +"Quick!" she sings out. "Watch the rear and side doors. I'm sure he's +here." + +And the mugs pile out and proceed to plant themselves around the house. + +"Sa-a-ay," says I, "this begins to look excitin'. Is it a raid, or +what? Who are the husky boys?" + +"Those men are in my employ," says she. + +"Private sleut's?" says I. + +"They are," says she, "and if you'll give up the boy without any +trouble I will pay you just twice as much as you're getting to hide +him. I'm going to have him, anyway." + +"Well, well!" says I. + +And say, maybe you can guess by that time I was feelin' like it was a +warm day. If I'd had on a celluloid collar, it'd blown up. Inside of +ten seconds, I've shucked my coat and am mixin' it with the plug that's +guardin' the side door. The doin's was short and sweet. He's no +sooner slumped down to feel what's happened to his jaw than No. 2 come +up. He acts like he was ambitious to do damage, but the third punch +leaves him on the grass. Then I takes each of 'em by the ear, leads +'em out to the road, and gives 'em a little leather farewell to help +'em get under way. + +"Sorry to muss your hired help, ma'am," says I, comin' back to the +front stoop; "but this is one place in the country where private +detectives ain't wanted. And another thing, let's not have any more +talk about me bein' paid. If there's anyone here belongin' to you, you +can have him and welcome; but cut out the hold up business and the +graft conversation. Now again, what's the name?" + +She was so mad she was white around the lips; but she's one of the kind +that knows when she's up against it, too. "I am Mrs. Rutgers Greene," +says she. + +"Oh, yes," says I. "From down on the point?" + +"Mr. Greene lives at Orienta Point, I believe," says she. + +Now that was plain enough, wa'n't it? You wouldn't think I'd need +postin' on what they was sayin' at the clubs, after that. But these +high life break-aways are so common you can't keep track of all of 'em, +and she sprung it so offhand that I didn't more'n half tumble to what +she meant. + +"I suppose I may have Gerald now?" she goes on. + +"Sure," says I. "I'll bring him down." And as I skips up the stairs I +sings out, "Hey, Mr. Smith! Your maw's come for you!" + +There was nothin' doin', though. I knocks on the door, and calls +again. Next I goes in. And say, it wa'n't until I'd pawed over all +the clothes, and looked under the bed and into the closet, that I could +believe it. He must have got up at daylight, slipped down the back way +in his stockin' feet, and skipped. The note on the wash stand clinches +it. It was wrote kind of wobbly, and the spellin' was some streaked; +but there wa'n't any mistakin' what he meant. He was sorry he had to +tell so many whoppers, but he wa'n't ever goin' home any more, and he +was much obliged for my tip about the freight car. Maybe my jaw didn't +drop. + +"Thick head!" says I, catchin' sight of myself in the bureau glass. +"You would get humorous!" + +When I goes back down stairs I find Mrs. Greene pacin' the porch. +"Well?" says she. + +I throws up my hands. "Skipped," says I. + +"Do you mean to say he has gone?" she snaps. + +"That's the size of it," says I. + +"Then this is Rutgers's work. Oh, the beast!" and she begins stampin' +her foot and bitin' her lips. + +"That's where you're off," says I; "this is a case of----" + +But just then another big bubble comes dashin' up, with four men in it, +and the one that jumps out and joins us is the main stem of the fam'ly. +I could see that by the way the lady turns her back on him. He's a +clean cut, square jawed young feller, and by the narrow set of his eyes +and the sandy colour of his hair you could guess he might be some +obstinate when it came to an argument. But he begins calm enough. + +"I'm Rutgers Greene," says he, "and at the police station they told me +Gerald was here. I'll take charge of him, if you please." + +"Have you brought a bunch of sleut's too?" says I. + +He admits that he has. + +"Then chase 'em off the grounds before I has another mental typhoon," +says I. "Shoo 'em!" + +"If they're not needed," says he, "and you object to----" + +"I do," says I. + +So he has his machine run out to the road again. + +"Now," says I, "seein' as this is a family affair----" + +"I beg pardon," puts in Greene; "but you hardly understand the +situation. Mrs. Greene need not be consulted at all." + +"I've as much right to Gerald as you have!" says she, her eyes snappin' +like a trolley wheel on a wet night. + +"We will allow the courts to decide that point," says he, real frosty. + +"I don't want to butt in on any tender little domestic scene," says I; +"but if I was you two I'd find the kid first. He's been gone since +daylight." + +"Gone!" says Greene. "Where?" + +"There's no tellin' that," says I. "All I know is that when he left +here he was headed for the railroad track, meanin' to jump a freight +train and----" + +"The railroad!" squeals Mrs. Greene. "Oh, he'll be killed! Oh, +Gerald! Gerald!" + +Greene don't say a word, but he turns the colour of a slice of Swiss +cheese. + +"Oh, what can we do?" says the lady, wringin' her hands. + +"Any of them detectives of yours know the kid by sight?" says I. + +They didn't. Neither did Greene's bunch. They was both fresh lots. + +"Well," says I, "I'll own up that part of this is up to me, and I won't +feel right until I've made a try to find him. I'm goin' to start now, +and I don't know how long I'll be gone. From what I've seen I can +guess that this cottage will be a little small for you two; but if +you're anxious to hear the first returns, I'd advise you to stay right +here. So long!" + +And with that I grabs my hat and makes a dash out the back way, leavin' +'em standin' there back to back. I never tracked a runaway kid along a +railroad, and I hadn't much notion of how to start; but I makes for the +rock ballast just as though I had the plan all mapped out. + +The first place I came across was a switch tower, and I hadn't chinned +the operators three minutes before I gets on to the fact that an east +bound freight usually passed there about six in the mornin', and +generally stopped to drill on the siding just below. That was enough +to send me down the track; but there wa'n't any traces of the kid. + +"New Haven for me, then," says I, and by good luck I catches a local. +Maybe that was a comfortable ride, watchin' out of the rear window for +somethin' I was hopin' I wouldn't see! And when it was over I hunts up +the yard master and finds the freight I was lookin' for was just about +due. + +"Expectin' a consignment?" says he. + +"Yes," says I. "I'm a committee of one to receive a stray kid." + +"Oh, that's it, eh?" says he. "We get 'em 'most every week. I'll see +that you have a pass to overhaul the empties." + +After I'd peeked into about a dozen box cars, and dug up nothin' more +encouraging than a couple of boozy 'boes, I begun to think my +calculations was all wrong. I was just slidin' another door shut when +I notices a bundle of somethin' over in the far corner. I had half a +mind not to climb in; for it didn't look like anything alive, but I +takes a chance at it for luck, and the first thing I hears is a growl. +The next minute I has Togo by the collar and the kid up on my arm. It +was Gerald, all right, though he was that dirty and rumpled I hardly +knew him. + +He just groans and grabs hold of me like he was afraid I was goin' to +get away. Why, the poor little cuss was so beat out and scared I +couldn't get a word from him for half an hour. But after awhile I +coaxed him to sit up on a stool and have a bite to eat, and when I've +washed off some of the grime, and pulled out a few splinters from his +hands, we gets a train back. First off I thought I'd 'phone Mr. and +Mrs. Greene, but then I changes my mind. "Maybe it'll do 'em good to +wait," thinks I. + +We was half way back when Gerald looks up and says, "You won't take me +home, will you?" + +"What's the matter with home, kid?" says I. + +"Well," says he, and I could see by the struggle he was havin' with his +upper lip that it was comin' out hard, "mother says father isn't a nice +man, and father says I mustn't believe what she says at all, +and--and--I don't think I like either of them well enough to be their +little boy any more. I don't like being stolen so often, either." + +"Stolen!" says I. + +"Yes," says he. "You see, when I'm with father, mother is always +sending men to grab me up and take me off where she is. Then father +sends men to get me back, and--and I don't believe I've got any real +home any more. That's why I ran away. Wouldn't you?" + +"Kid," says I, "I ain't got a word to say." + +He was too tired and down in the mouth to do much conversing either. +All he wants is to curl up with his head against my shoulder and go to +sleep. After he wakes up from his nap he feels better, and when he +finds we're goin' back to my place he gets quite chipper. All the way +walkin' up from the station I tries to think of how it would be best to +break the news to him about the grand household scrap that was due to +be pulled off the minute we shows up. I couldn't do it, though, until +we'd got clear to the house. + +"Now, youngster," says I, "there's a little surprise on tap for you +here, I guess. You walk up soft and peek through the door." + +For a minute I thought maybe they'd cleared out, he was so still about +it, so I steps up to rubber, too. And there's Mr. and Mrs. Rutgers +Greene, sittin' on the sofa about as close as they could get, her +weepin' damp streaks down his shirt front, and him pattin' her back +hair gentle and lovin'. + +"Turn off the sprayer!" says I. "Here's the kid!" + +Well, we was all mixed up for the next few minutes. They hugs Gerald +both to once, and then they hugs each other, and if I hadn't ducked +just as I did I ain't sure what would have happened to me. When I +comes back, half an hour later, all I needs is one glance to see that a +lot of private sleut's and court lawyers is out of a job. + +"Shorty," says Greene, givin' me the hearty grip, "I don't know how I'm +ever goin' to----" + +"Ah, lose it!" says I. "It was just by a fluke I got on the job, +anyway. That's a great kid of yours, eh?" + +Did I say anything about Primrose Park bein' a place where nothin' ever +happened? Well, you can scratch that. + + + + +XI + +WHEN ROSSITER CUT LOOSE + +As a general thing I don't go much on looks, but I will say that I've +seen handsomer specimens than Rossiter. He's got good height, and +plenty of reach, with legs branchin' out just under his armpits--you +know how them clothespin fellers are built--but when you finish out the +combination with pop eyes and a couple of overhangin' front teeth-- +Well, what's the use? Rossy don't travel on his shape. He don't have +to, with popper bossin' a couple of trunk lines. + +When he first begun comin' to the Studio I sized him up for a soft +boiled, and wondered how he could stray around town alone without +havin' his shell cracked. Took me some time, too, before I fell to the +fact that Rossy was wiser'n he looked; but at that he wa'n't no +knowledge trust. + +Just bein' good natured was Rossy's long suit. Course, he couldn't +help grinnin'; his mouth is cut that way. There wa'n't any mistakin' +the look in them wide set eyes of his, though. That was the real +article, the genuine I'll-stand-for-anything kind. Say, you could +spring any sort of a josh on Rossy, and he wouldn't squeal. He was one +of your shy violets, too. Mostly he played a thinkin' part, and when +he did talk, he didn't say much. After you got to know 'him real well, +though, and was used to the way he looked, you couldn't help likin' +Rossiter. I'd had both him and the old man as reg'lars for two or +three months, and it's natural I was more or less chummy with them. + +So when Rossy shows up here the other mornin' and shoves out his +proposition to me, I don't think nothin' of it. + +"Shorty," says he, kind of flushin' up, "I've got a favour to ask of +you." + +"You're welcome to use all I've got in the bank," says I. + +"It isn't money," says he, growin' pinker. + +"Oh!" says I, like I was a lot surprised. "Your usin' the touch +preamble made me think it was. What's the go?" + +"I--I can't tell you just now," says he; "but I'd like your assistance +in a little affair, about eight o'clock this evening. Where can I find +you?" + +"Sounds mysterious," says I. "You ain't goin' up against any Canfield +game; are you?" + +"Oh, I assure----" he begins. + +"That's enough," says I, and I names the particular spot I'll be +decoratin' at that hour. + +"You won't fail?" says he, anxious. + +"Not unless an ambulance gets me," says I. + +Well, I didn't go around battin' my head all the rest of the day, +tryin' to think out what it was Rossiter had on the card. Somehow he +ain't the kind you'd look for any hot stunts from. If I'd made a +guess, maybe I'd said he wanted me to take him and a college chum down +to a chop suey joint for an orgy on li-chee nuts an' weak tea. + +So I wa'n't fidgetin' any that evenin', as I holds up the corner of +42nd-st., passin' the time of day with the Rounds, and watchin' the +Harlem folks streak by to the roof gardens. Right on the tick a hansom +fetches up at the curb, and I sees Rossiter givin' me the wig-wag to +jump in. + +"You're runnin' on sked," says I. "Where to now?" + +"I think your Studio would be the best place," says he, "if you don't +mind." + +I said I didn't, and away we goes around the corner. As we does the +turn I sees another cab make a wild dash to get in front, and, takin' a +peek through the back window, I spots a second one followin'. + +"Are we part of a procession?" says I, pointin' 'em out to him. + +He only grins and looks kind of sheepish. "That's the regular thing +nowadays," says he. + +"What! Tin badgers?" says I. + +He nods. "They made me rather nervous at first," he says; "but after +I'd been shadowed for a week or so I got used to it, and lately I've +got so I would feel lost without them. To-night, though, they're +rather a nuisance. I thought you might help me to throw them off the +track." + +"But who set 'em on?" says I. + +"Oh, it's father, I suppose," says he; not grouchy mind you, but kind +of tired. + +"Why, Rossy!" says I. "I didn't think you was the sort that called for +P. D. reports." + +"I'm not," says he. "That's just father's way, you know, when he +suspects anything is going on that he hasn't been told about. He runs +his business that way--has a big force looking into things all the +time. And maybe some of them weren't busy; so he told them to look +after me." + +Well say! I've heard some tough things about the old man, but I never +thought he'd carry a thing that far. Why, there ain't any more +sportin' blood in Rossiter than you'd look for in a ribbon clerk. +Outside of the little ladylike boxin' that he does with me, as a liver +regulator, the most excitin' fad of his I ever heard of was collectin' +picture postals. + +Now, I generally fights shy of mixin' up in family affairs, but someway +or other I just ached to take a hand in this. "Rossy," says I, "you're +dead anxious to hand the lemon to them two sleut's; are you?" + +He said he was. + +"And your game's all on the straight after that, is it?" I says. + +"'Pon my honour, it is," says he. + +"Then count me in," says I. "I ain't never had any love for them sneak +detectives, and here's where I gives 'em a whirl." + +But say, they're a slippery bunch. They must have known just where we +was headin', for by the time we lands on the sidewalk in front of the +physical culture parlours, the man in the leadin' cab has jumped out +and faded. + +"He will be watching on the floor above," says Rossiter, "and the other +one will stay below." + +"That's the way they work it, eh?" says I. "Good! Come on in without +lookin' around or lettin' 'em know you're on." + +We goes up to the second floor and turns on the glim in the front +office. Then I puts on a pair of gym. shoes, opens the door easy, and +tiptoes down the stairs. He was just where I thought he'd be, coverin' +up in the shade of the vestibule. + +"Caught with the goods on!" says I, reachin' out and gettin' a good +grip on his neck. "No you don't! No gun play in this!" and I gives +his wrist a crack with my knuckles that puts his shootin' arm out of +business. + +"You're makin' a mistake," says he. "I'm a private detective." + +"You're a third rate yegg," says I, "and you've been nipped tryin' to +pinch a rubber door mat." + +"Here's my badge," says he. + +"Anybody can buy things like that at a hock shop," says I. "You come +along up stairs till I see whether or no it's worth while ringin' up a +cop." + +He didn't want to visit, not a little bit, but I was behind, persuadin' +him with my knee, and up he goes. + +"Look at what the sneak thief business is comin' to," says I, standin' +him under the bunch light where Rossiter could get a good look at him. +He was a shifty eyed low brow that you wouldn't trust alone in a room +with a hot quarter. + +"My name is McGilty," says he. + +"Even if it wa'n't, you could never prove an alibi with that face," +says I. + +"If this young gent'll 'phone to his father," he goes on, "he'll find +that I'm all right." + +"Don't you want us to call up Teddy at Oyster Bay? Or send for your +old friend Bishop Potter? Ah, say, don't I look like I could buy fly +paper without gettin' stuck? Sit down there and rest your face and +hands." + +With that I chucks him into a chair, grabs up a hunk of window cord +that I has for the chest weights, and proceeds to do the bundle +wrapping act on him. Course, he does a lot of talkin', tellin' of the +things that'll happen to me if I don't let him go right off. + +"I'll cheerfully pay all the expenses of a damage suit, or fines, +Shorty," says Rossiter. + +"Forget it!" says I. "There won't be anything of the sort. He's +lettin' off a little hot air, that's all. Keep your eye on him while I +goes after the other one." + +I collared Number Two squattin' on the skylight stairs. For a minute +or so he put up a nice little muss, but after I'd handed him a swift +one on the jaw he forgot all about fightin' back. + +"Attempted larceny of a tarred roof for yours," says I. "Come down +till I give you the third degree." + +He didn't have a word to say; just held onto his face and looked ugly. +I tied him up same's I had the other and set 'em face to face, where +they could see how pretty they looked. Then I led Rossiter down stairs. + +"Now run along and enjoy yourself," says I. "That pair'll do no more +sleut'in' for awhile. I'll keep 'em half an hour, anyway, before I +throws 'em out in the street." + +"I'm awfully obliged, Shorty," says he. + +"Don't mention it," says I. "It's been a pleasure."' + +That was no dream, either. Say, it did me most as much good as a trip +to Coney, stringin' them trussed up keyhole gazers. + +"Your names'll look nice in the paper," says I, "and when your cases +come up at Special Sessions maybe your friends'll all have reserved +seats. Sweet pair of pigeon toed junk collectors, you are!" + +If they wa'n't sick of the trailin' business before I turned 'em loose, +it wa'n't my fault. From the remarks they made as they went down the +stairs I suspicioned they was some sore on me. But now and then I runs +across folks that I'm kind of proud to have feel that way. Private +detectives is in that class. + +I was still on the grin, and thinkin' how real cute I'd been, when I +hears heavy steps on the stairs, and in blows Rossiter's old man, short +of breath and wall eyed. + +"Where's he gone?" says he. + +"Which one?" says I. + +"Why, that fool boy of mine!" says the old man. "I've just had word +that he was here less than an hour ago." + +"You got a straight tip," says I. + +"Well, where did he go from here?" says he. + +"I'm a poor guesser," says I, "and he didn't leave any word; but if you +was to ask my opinion, I'd say that most likely he was behavin' +himself, wherever he was." + +"Huh!" growls the old man. "That shows how little you know about him. +He's off being married, probably to some yellow haired chorus girl; +that's where he is!" + +"What! Rossy?" says I. + +Honest, I thought the old man must have gone batty; but when he tells +me the whole yarn I begins to feel like I'd swallowed a foolish powder. +Seems that Rossiter's mother had been noticin' symptoms in him for some +time; but they hadn't nailed anything until that evenin', when the +chump butler turns in a note that he shouldn't have let go of until +next mornin'. It was from Rossiter, and says as how, by the time she +reads that, he'll have gone and done it. + +"But how do you figure out that he's picked a squab for his'n?" says I. + +"Because they're the kind that would be most likely to trap a young +chuckle head like Rossiter," says the old man. "It's what I've been +afraid of for a long time. Who else would be likely to marry him? +Come! you don't imagine I think he's an Apollo, just because he's my +son, do you? And don't you suppose I've found out, in all these years, +that he hasn't sense enough to pound sand? But I can't stay here. +I've got to try and stop it, before it's too late. If you think you +can be of any help, you can come along." + +Well say, I didn't see how I'd fit into a hunt of that kind; and as for +knowin' what to do, I hadn't a thought in my head just then; but seein' +as how I'd butted in, it didn't seem no more'n right that I should stay +with the game. So I tags along, and we climbs into the old man's +electric cab. + +"We'll go to Dr. Piecrust's first, and see if he's there," says he, +"that being our church." + +Well, he wa'n't. And they hadn't seen him at another minister's that +the old man said Rossy knew. + +"If she was an actorine," says I, "she'd be apt to steer him to the +place where they has most of their splicin' done. Why not try there?" + +"Good idea!" says he, and we lights out hot foot for the Little Church +Around the Corner. + +And say! Talk about your long shots! As we piles out what should I +see but the carrotty topped night hawk that'd had Rossy and me for +fares earlier in the evenin'. + +"You're a winner," says I to the old man. "It's a case of waitin' at +the church. Ten to one you'll find Rossiter inside." + +It was a cinch. Rossy was the first one we saw as we got into the +anteroom. + +It wa'n't what you'd call a real affectionate meetin'. The old man +steps up and eyes him for a minute, like a dyspeptic lookin' at a piece +of overdone steak in a restaurant, and then he remarks: "What blasted +nonsense is this, sir?" + +"Why," says Rossy, shiftin' from one foot to the other, and grinnin' +foolisher'n I ever saw him grin before--"why, I just thought I'd get +married, that's all." + +"That's all, eh?" says the old man, and you could have filed a saw with +his voice. "Sort of a happy inspiration of the moment, was it?" + +"Well," says Rossy, "not--not exactly that. I'd been thinking of it +for some time, sir." + +"The deuce you say!" says the old man. + +"I--I didn't think you'd object," says Rossy. + +"Wow!" says the old man. He'd been holdin' in a long spell, for him, +but then he just boiled over. "See here, you young rascal!" says he. +"What do you mean by talking that way to me? Didn't think I'd object! +D'ye suppose I'm anxious to have all New York know that my son's been +made a fool of? Think your mother and I are aching to have one of +these bleached hair chorus girls in the family? Got her inside there, +have you?" + +"Yes, sir," says Rossy. + +"Well, bring her out here!" says the old man. "I've got something to +say to her." + +"All right, sir," says Rossy. If there ever was a time for throwin' +the hooks into a parent, it was then. But he's as good humoured and +quiet about it as though he'd just been handed a piece of peach pie. +"I'll bring her right out," says he. + +When he comes in with the lady, the old man takes one look at her and +almost loses his breath for good. + +"Eunice May Ogden!" says he. "Why--why on earth didn't you say so +before, Rossy?" + +"Oh, hush!" says the lady. "Do be still! Can't you see that we're +right in the middle of an elopement?" + +Never saw Eunice May, did you? Well, that's what you miss by not +travellin' around with the swells, same as me. I had seen her. And +say, she's somethin' of a sight, too! She's a prize pumpkin, Eunice +is. Maybe she's some less'n seven feet in her lisle threads, but she +looks every inch of it; and when it comes to curves, she has Lillian +Russell pared to a lamp post. She'd be a good enough looker if she +wa'n't such a whale. As twins, she'd be a pair of beauts, but the way +she stands, she's most too much of a good thing. + +Pinckney says they call her the Ogden sinking fund among his crowd. +I've heard 'em say that old man Ogden, who's a little, dried up runt of +about five feet nothin', has never got over bein' surprised at the size +Eunice has growed to. When she was about fourteen and weighed only a +hundred and ninety odd, he and Mother Ogden figured a lot on marryin' +Eunice into the House of Lords, like they did her sister, but they gave +all that up when she topped the two hundred mark. + +Standin' there with Rossiter, they loomed up like a dime museum couple; +but they was lookin' happy, and gazin' at each other in that mushy +way--you know how. + +"Say," says Rossiter's old man, sizin' 'em up careful, "is it all true? +Do you think as much of one another as all that?" + +There wa'n't any need of their sayin' so; but Rossy speaks up prompt +for the only time in his life. He told how they'd been spoons on each +other for more'n a year, but hadn't dared let on because they was +afraid of bein' kidded. It was the same way about gettin' married. +Course, their bein' neighbours on the avenue, and all that, he must +have known that the folks on either side wouldn't kick, but neither one +of 'em had the nerve to stand for a big weddin', so they just made up +their minds to slide off easy and have it all through before anyone had +a chance to give 'em the jolly. + +"But now that you've found it out," says Rossiter, "I suppose you'll +want us to wait and----" + +"Wait nothing!" says the old man, jammin' on his hat. "Don't you wait +a minute on my account. Go ahead with your elopement. I'll clear out. +I'll go up to the club and find Ogden, and when you have had the knot +tied good and fast, you come home and receive a double barrelled +blessing." + +About that time the minister that they'd been waitin' for shows up, and +before I knows it I've been rung in. Well, say, it was my first whack +playin' back stop at a weddin', and perhaps I put up a punk +performance; but inside of half an hour the job was done. + +And of all the happy reunions I was ever lugged into, it was when +Rossiter's folks and the Ogdens got together afterwards. They were so +tickled to get them two freak left overs off their hands that they +almost adopted me into both families, just for the little stunt I did +in bilkin' them P. D.'s. + + + + +XII + +TWO ROUNDS WITH SYLVIE + +If it hadn't been for givin' Chester a show to make a gallery play, you +wouldn't have caught me takin' a bite out of the quince, the way I did +the other night. But say, when a young sport has spent the best part +of a year learnin' swings and ducks and footwork, and when fancy +boxin's about all the stunt he's got on his program, it's no more'n +right he should give an exhibition, specially if that's what he aches +to do. And Chester did have that kind of a longin'. + +"Who are you plannin' to have in the audience, Chetty?" says I. + +"Why," says he, "there'll be three or four of the fellows up, and maybe +some of the crowd that mother's invited will drop in too." + +"Miss Angelica likely to be in the bunch?" says I. + +Chester pinks up at that and tries to make out he hadn't thought +anything about Angelica's bein' there at all. But I'd heard a lot +about this particular young lady, and when I sees the colour on Chester +his plan was as clear as if the entries was posted on a board. + +"All right, Chetty," says I; "have it any way you say. I'll be up +early Saturday night." + +So that's what I was doin' in the smoker on the five-nine, with my gym. +suit and gaslight clothes in a kit bag up on the rack. Just as they +shuts the gates and gives the word to pull out, in strolls the last man +aboard and piles in alongside of me. I wouldn't have noticed him +special if he hadn't squinted at the ticket I'd stuck in the seat back, +and asked if I was goin' to get off at that station. + +"I was thinkin' some of it when I paid my fare," says I. + +"Ah!" says he, kind of gentle and blinkin' his eyes. "That is my +station, too. Might I trouble you to remind me of the fact when we +arrive?" + +"Sure," says I; "I'll wake you up." + +He gives me another blink, pulls a little readin' book out of his +pocket, slumps down into the seat, and proceeds to act like he'd gone +into a trance. + +Say, I didn't need more'n one glimpse to size him up for a freak. The +Angora haircut was tag enough--reg'lar Elbert Hubbard thatch he was +wearin', all fluffy and wavy, and just clearin' his coat collar. That +and the artist's necktie, not to mention the eye glasses with the +tortoise shell rims, put him in the self advertisin' class without his +sayin' a word. + +Outside of the frills, he wa'n't a bad lookin' chap, and sizable enough +for a 'longshoreman, only you could tell by the lily white hands and +the long fingernails that him and toil never got within speakin' +distance. + +"Wonder what particular brand of mollycoddle he is?" thinks I. + +Now there wa'n't any call for me to put him through the catechism, just +because he was headed for the same town I was; but somehow I had an +itch to take a rise out of him. So I leans over and gets a peek at the +book. + +"Readin' po'try, eh?" says I, swallowin' a grin. + +"Beg pardon?" says he, kind of shakin' himself together. "Yes, this is +poetry--Swinburne, you know," and he slumps down again as if he'd said +all there was to say. + +But when I starts out to be sociable you can't head me off that way. +"Like it?" says I. + +"Why, yes," says he, "very much, indeed. Don't you?" + +He thought he had me corked there; but I comes right back at him. +"Nix!" says I. "Swinny's stuff always hit me as bein' kind of punk." + +"Really!" says he, liftin' his eyebrows. "Perhaps you have been +unfortunate in your selections. Now take this, from the Anactoria----" + +And say, I got what was comin' to me then. He tears off two or three +yards of it, all about moonlight and stars and kissin' and lovin', and +a lot of gush like that. Honest, it would give you an ache under your +vest! + +"There!" says he. "Isn't that beautiful imagery?" + +"Maybe," says I. "Guess I never happened to light on that part before." + +"But surely you are familiar with his Madonna Mia?" says he. + +"That got past me too," says I. + +"It's here," says he, speakin' up quick. "Wait. Ah, this is it!" and +hanged if he don't give me another dose, with more love in it than you +could get in a bushel of valentines, and about as much sense as if he'd +been readin' the dictionary backwards. He does it well, though, just +as if it all meant something; and me settin' there listenin' until I +felt like I'd been doped. + +"Say, I take it all back," says I when he lets up. "That Swinny chap +maybe ain't quite up to Wallace Irwin; but he's got Ella Wheeler pushed +through the ropes. I've got to see a friend in the baggage car, +though, and if you'll let me climb out past I'll speak to the brakeman +about puttin' you off where you belong." + +"You're very kind," says he. "Regret you can't stay longer." + +Was that a josh, or what? Anyway, I figures I'm gettin' off easy, for +there was a lot more of that blamed book he might have pumped into me +if I hadn't ducked. + +"Never again!" says I to myself. "Next time I gets curious I'll keep +my mouth shut." + +I wa'n't takin' any chances of his holdin' me up on the station +platform when we got off, either. I was the first man to swing from +the steps, and I makes a bee line for the road leadin' out towards +Chester's place, not stoppin' for a hack. Pretty soon who should come +drivin' after me but Curlylocks. He still has his book open, though; +so he gets by without spottin' me, and I draws a long breath. + +By the time I'd hoofed over the two miles between the stations and +where Chester lives I'd done a lot of breathin'. It was quite some of +a place to get to, one of these new-model houses, that wears the +plasterin' on the outside and has a roof made of fancy drain pipe. +It's balanced right on the edge of the rocks, with the whole of Long +Island sound for a back yard and more'n a dozen acres of private park +between it and the road. + +"Gee!" says I to Chester, "I should think this would be as lonesome as +livin' in a lighthouse." + +"Not with the mob that mother usually has around," says he. + +If the attendance that night was a sample, I guess he was right; for +the bunch that answers the dinner gong would have done credit to a +summer hotel. Seems that Chester's old man had been a sour, unsociable +old party in his day, keepin' the fam'ly shut up in a thirty-foot-front +city house that was about as cheerful as a tomb, and havin' comp'ny to +dinner reg'lar once a year. + +But when he finally quit breathin', and the lawyers had pried the +checkbook out of his grip, mother had sailed in to make up for lost +time. It wasn't bridge and pink teas. She'd always had a hankerin' +for minglin' with the high brows, and it was them she went gunnin' +for,--anything from a college president down to lady novelists. +Anybody that could paint a prize picture, or break into print in the +thirty-five-cent magazines, or get his name up as havin' put the scoop +net over a new germ, could win a week of first class board from her by +just sendin' in his card. + +But it was tough on Chester, havin' that kind of a gang around all the +time, clutterin' up the front hall with their extension grips and +droppin' polysyllables in the soup. Chetty's brow was a low cut. +Maybe he had a full set of brains; but he hadn't ever had to work 'em +overtime, and he didn't seem anxious to try. About all the heavy +thinkin' he did was when he was orderin' lunch at the club. But he was +a big, full blooded, good natured young feller, and with the exercise +he got around to the Studio he kept in pretty good trim. + +How he ever come to get stuck on a girl like Angelica, though, was +more'n I could account for. She's one of these slim, big eyed, +breathless, gushy sort of females; the kind that tends out on picture +shows, and piano recitals, and Hindu lectures. Chester seems to have a +bad case of it, though. + +"Is she on hand to-night, Chetty?" says I. + +He owns up that she was. "And say, Shorty," says he, "I want you to +meet her. Come on, now. I've told her a lot about you." + +"That bein' the case," says I, "here's where Angelica gets a treat," +and we starts out to hunt for her, Chester's plan bein' to make me the +excuse for the boxin' exhibit. + +But Angelica didn't seem to be so easy to locate. First we strikes the +music room, where a heavy weight gent lately come over from Warsaw is +tearin' a thunder storm out of the southwest corner of the piano. + +The room was full of folks; but nary sign of the girl with the eyes. +Nor she wa'n't in the libr'y, where a four-eyed duck with a crop of +rusty chin spinach was gassin' away about the sun spots, or something. +Say, there was 'most any kind of brain stimulation you could name bein' +handed out in diff'rent parts of that house; but Angelica wa'n't to any +of 'em. + +It was just by accident, as we was takin' a turn around one of the +verandas facin' the water, that, we runs across a couple camped down in +a corner seat under a big palm. The girl in pink radium silk was +Angelica. And say, by moonlight she's a bunch' of honeysuckle! The +other party was our old friend Curlylocks, and I has to grin at the +easy way he has of pickin' out the best looker in sight and leadin' her +off where she wouldn't have to listen to anybody but him. He has the +po'try tap turned on full blast, and the girl is listenin' as pleased +as if she had never heard anything better in her life. + +[Illustration: HE HAS THE PO'TRY TAP TURNED ON FULL BLAST] + +"Confound him!" says Chester under his breath. "He's here again, is +he?" + +"Looks like this part of the house was gettin' crowded, Chetty," says +I. "Let's back out." + +"Hanged if I do!" says he, and proceeds to do the butt in act about as +gentle as a truck horse boltin' through a show window. "Oh, you're +here, Angelica!" he growls out. "I've been hunting all over the shop +for you." + +"S-s-sh!" says Angelica, holding up one finger and him off with the +other hand. + +"Yes, I see," says Chester; "but----" + +"Oh, please run away and don't bother!" says she. "That's a good boy, +now Chester." + +"Oh, darn!" says Chester. + +That was the best he could do too, for they don't even wait to see us +start. Angelica gives us a fine view of her back hair, and Mr. +Curlylocks begins where he left off, and spiels away. It was a good +deal the same kind of rot he had shoved at me on the train,--all about +hearts and lovin' and so on,--only here he throws in business with the +eyelashes, and seems to have pulled out the soft vocal stops. + +Chester stands by for a minute, tryin' to look holes through 'em, and +then he lets me lead him off. + +"Now what do you think of that?" says he, makin' a face like he'd +tasted something that had been too long in the can. + +"Why," says I, "it's touchin', if true. Who's the home destroyer with +the vaseline voice and the fuzzy nut?" + +"He calls himself Sylvan Vickers," says Chester. "He's a poet--a +sappy, slushy, milk and water poet. Writes stuff about birds and +flowers and love, and goes around spouting it to women." + +"Why," says I, "he peeled off a few strips for me, comin' up on the +cars, and I though it was hot stuff." + +"Honest, Shorty," says Chester, swallowin' the string as fast as I +could unwind the ball, "you--you don't like that kind of guff, do you?" + +"Oh, well," says I, "I don't wake up in the night and cry for it, and +maybe I can worry along for the next century or so without hearin' any +more; but he's sure found some one that does like it, eh?" + +There's no sayin' but what Chester held himself in well; for if ever a +man was entitled to a grouch, it was him. But he says mighty little, +just walks off scowlin' and settin' his teeth hard. I knew what was +good for that; so I hints that he round up his chappies and go down +into the gym. to work it off. + +Chetty's enthusiasm for mitt jugglin' has all petered out, though, and +it's some time before I can make him see it my way. Then we has to +find his crowd, that was scattered around in the different rooms, +lonesome and tired; so it's late in the evenin' before we got under way. + +Chester and me have had a round or so, and he'd just wore out one of +his friends and was tryin' to tease somebody else to put 'em on, when I +spots a rubber neck in the back of the hall. + +"O-o-h, see who's here, Chetty!" says I, whisperin' over his shoulder. + +It was our poet friend, that has had to give up Angelica to her maw. +He's been strayin' around loose, and has wandered in through the gym. +doors by luck. Now, Chester may not have any mighty intellect, but +there's times when he can think as quick as the next one. He takes one +glance at Curlylocks, and stiffens like a bird dog pointin' a partridge. + +"Say," says he all excited, "do you suppose--could we get him to put +them on?" + +"Not if you showed you was so anxious as all that," says I. + +"Then you ask him, Shorty," he whispers. "I'll give a hundred for just +one round--two hundred." + +"S-s-sh!" says I. "Take it easy." + +Ever see an old lady tryin' to shoo a rooster into a fence corner, +while the old man waited around the end of the woodshed with the axe? +You know how gentle and easy the trick has to be worked? Well, that +was me explainin' to Curlylocks how we was havin' a little exercise +with the kid pillows,--oh, just a little harmless tappin' back and +forth, so's we could sleep well afterwards,--and didn't he feel like +tryin' it for a minute with Chester? Smooth! Some of that talk of +mine would have greased an axle. + +Sylvie, old boy, he blinks at me through his glasses, like a poll +parrot sizin' up a firecracker that little Jimmy wants to hand him. He +don't say anything, but he seems some interested. He reaches out for +one of the mitts and pokes a finger into the paddin', lookin' it over +as if it was some kind of a curiosity. + +"Reg'lar swan's down cushions," says I. + +"Like to have you try a round or so, Vickers," puts in Chester, as +careless as he could. "Professor McCabe will show you how to put them +on." + +"Ah, really?" says Curlylocks. Then he has to step up and inspect +Chester's frame up. + +"That's the finish!" thinks I; for Chetty's a well built boy, good and +bunchy around the shoulders, and when he peels down to a sleeveless +jersey he looks 'most as wicked as Sharkey. But, just as we're +expectin' Curlylocks to show how wise he was, he throws out a bluff +that leaves us gaspin' for breath. + +"Do you know," says he, "if I was in the mood for that sort of thing, +I'd be charmed; but--er----" + +"Oh, fudge!" says Chetty. "I expect you'd rather recite us some +poetry?" And at that one of Chester's chums snickers right out. +Sylvie flushes up like some one had slapped him on the wrist. + +"Beg pardon," says he; "but I believe I will try it for a little +while," and he holds out his paws for me to slip on the gloves. + +"Better shed the parlour clothes," says I. "You're liable to get 'em +dusty," which last tickles the audience a lot. + +He didn't want to peel off even his Tuxedo; but jollies him into +lettin' go of it, and partin' with his collar and white tie and eye +glasses too. That was as far as he'd go, though. + +Course, it was kind of a low down game to put up on anybody; but +Curlylocks wa'n't outclassed any in height, nor much in weight; and, +seein' as how he'd kind of laid himself open to something of the sort, +I didn't feel as bad as I might. All the time, Chester was tryin' to +keep the grin off his face, and his chums was most wearin' their elbows +out nudgin' each other. + +"Now," says I, when I've got Curlylocks ready for the slaughter, +"what'll it be--two-minute rounds?" + +"Quite satisfactory," says Sylvie; and Chetty nods. + +"Then let 'er go!" says I, steppin' back. + +One thing I've always coached Chester on, was openin' lively. It don't +make any difference whether the mitts are hard or soft, whether it's a +go to a finish or a private bout for fun, there's no sense in wastin' +the first sixty seconds in stirrin' up the air. The thing to do is to +bore in. And Chester didn't need any urgin'. He cuts loose with both +bunches, landin' a right on the ribs and pokin' the left into the +middle of Sylvie's map; so sudden that Mr. Poet heaves up a grunt way +from his socks. + +"Ah, string it out, Chetty," says I. "String it out, so's it'll last +longer." + +But he's like a hungry kid with a hokypoky sandwich,--he wants to take +it all at one bite. And maybe if I'd been as much gone on Angelica as +he was, and had been put on a siding for this moonlight po'try +business, I'd been just as anxious. So he wades in again with as fine +a set of half arm jolts as he has in stock. + +By this time Sylvie has got his guard up proper, and is coverin' +himself almost as good as if he knew how. He does it a little awkward; +but somehow, Chetty couldn't seem to get through. + +"Give him the cross hook!" sings out one of the boys. + +Chester tries, but it didn't work. Then he springs another rush, and +they goes around like a couple of pinwheels, with nothin' gettin' +punished but the gloves. + +"Time!" says I, and leads Sylvie over to a chair. He was puffin' some, +but outside of that he was as good as new. "Good blockin', old man," +says I. "You're doin' fine. Keep that up and you'll be all right." + +"Think so?" says he, reachin' for the towel. + +The second spasm starts off different. Curlylocks seems to be more +awake than he was, and the first thing we knows he's fiddlin' for an +openin' in the good old fashioned way. + +"And there's where you lose out, son," thinks I. + +I hadn't got through thinkin' before things begun happenin'. Sylvie +seems to unlimber from the waist up, and his arms acted like he'd let +out an extra link in 'em. Funny I hadn't noticed that reach of his +before. For a second or so he only steps around Chester, shootin' out +first one glove and then the other, and plantin' little love pats on +different parts of him, as if he was locatin' the right spots. + +Chetty don't like havin' his bumps felt of that way, and comes back +with a left swing followed by an upper cut. They was both a little +wild, and they didn't connect. That wa'n't the worst of it, though. +Before he's through with that foolishness Sylvie turns them long arms +of his into a rapid fire battery, and his mitts begin to touch up them +spots he's picked out at the rate of about a hundred bull's eyes to the +minute. It was bing--bing--bing--biff!--with Chetty's arms swingin' +wide, and his block rockin', and his breath comin' short, and his knees +gettin' as wabbly as a new boy speakin' a piece. Before I can call the +round Curlylocks has put the steam into a jaw punch that sends Chester +to the mat as hard as though he'd been dropped out of a window. + +"Is--is it all over?" says Chetty when he comes to, a couple of minutes +later. + +"If you leave it to me," says I, "I should say it was; unless Mr. +What's-his-name here wants to try that same bunch of tricks on me. How +about it?" + +"Much obliged, professor," says Curlylocks, givin' a last hitch to his +white tie; "but I've seen you in the ring." + +"Well," says I, "I've heard you recite po'try; so we're even. But say, +you make a whole lot better showin' in my line than I would in yours, +and if you ever need a backer in either, just call on me." + +We shakes hands on that; and then Chetty comes to the front, man +fashion, with his flipper out, too. That starts the reunion, and when +I leaves 'em, about one A. M., the Scotch and ginger ale tide was +runnin' out fast. + +How about Angelica? Ah, say, next mornin' there shows up a younger, +fresher, gushier one than she is, and inside of half an hour her and +Curlylocks is close together on a bench, and he's got the little book +out again. Angelica pines in the background for about three minutes +before Chester comes around with the tourin' car, and the last I see of +'em they was snuggled up together in the back of the tonneau. So I +guess Chetty don't need much sympathisin' with, even if he was passed a +couple of lime drops. + + + + +XIII + +GIVING BOMBAZOULA THE HOOK + +Maybe I was tellin' you something about them two rockin' chair +commodores from the yacht club, that I've got on my reg'lar list? +They're some of Pinckney's crowd, you know, and that's just as good as +sayin' they're more ornamental than useful. Anyway, that description's +a close fit for Purdy. + +First off I couldn't stand for Purdy at all. He's one of these natty, +band box chappies, with straw coloured hair slicked down as smooth as +if he'd just come up from a dive, and a costume that looks as if it +might have been copied from a stained glass window. You've seen them +symphonies in greys and browns, with everything matched up, from their +shirt studs to their shoes buttons? Now, I don't mind a man's bein' a +swell dresser--I've got a few hot vests myself--but this tryin' to be a +Mr. Pastelle is runnin' the thing into the ground. + +Purdy could stand all the improvin' the tailor could hand him, though. +His eyes was popped just enough to give him a continual surprised look, +and there was more or less of his face laid out in nose. Course, he +wa'n't to blame for that; but just the same, when he gets to comin' to +the Studio twice a week for glove work and the chest weights, I passes +him over to Swifty Joe. Honest, I couldn't trust myself to hit around +that nose proper. But Swifty uses him right. Them clothes of Purdy's +had got Swifty goin', and he wouldn't have mussed him for a farm. + +After I'd got used to seein' Purdy around, I didn't mind him so much +myself. He seemed to be a well meanin', quiet, sisterly sort of a +duck, one of the kind that fills in the corners at afternoon teas, and +wears out three pairs of pumps every winter leadin' cotillions. You'll +see his name figurin' in the society notes: how Mrs. Burgess Jones gave +a dinner dance at Sherry's for the younger set, and the cotillion was +led by Mr. Purdy Bligh. Say, how's that as a steady job for a grown +man, eh? + +But so long as I'm treated square by anyone, and they don't try to +throw any lugs around where I am, I don't feel any call to let 'em in +on my private thoughts. So Purdy and me gets along first rate; and the +next thing I knows he's callin' me Shorty, and bein' as glad to see me +when he comes in as if I was one of his old pals. How you goin' to +dodge a thing of that kind? And then, 'fore I knows what's comin', I'm +right in the middle of this Bombazoula business. + +It wa'n't anything I butted into on purpose, now you can take that +straight. It was this way: I was doin' my reg'lar afternoon stroll up +the avenue, not payin' much attention to anything in particular, when a +cab pulls up at the curb, and I looks around, to see Purdy leanin' over +the apron and makin' motions at me with his cane. + +"Hello!" says I. "Have they got you strapped in so you can't get out?" + +"By Jove!" says he, "I never thought of jumping out, you know. Beg +pardon, old man, for hailing you in that fashion, but----" + +"Cut it!" says I. "I ain't so proud as all that. What's doin'?" + +"It's rather a rummy go," says he; "but where can I buy some snakes?" + +"That's rummy, all right," says I. "Have you tried sendin' him to an +institute?" + +"Sending who?" says he. + +"Oh!" says I. "I figured this was a snake cure, throwin' a scare into +somebody, that you was plannin'." + +"Oh, dear, no," says Purdy. "They're for Valentine. He's fond of +snakes, you know--can't get along without them. But they must be big +ones--spotted, rings around them, and all that." + +"Gee!" says I. "Vally's snake tastes must be educated 'way up! Guess +you'll have to give in your order down at Lefty White's." + +"And where is that?" says he. + +"William street, near the bridge," says I. "Don't you know about +Lefty's?" + +Well, he didn't; hadn't ever been below the bridge on the East Side in +his life; and wouldn't I please come along, if I could spare the time. + +So I climbs in alongside Purdy and the cane, and off we goes down town, +at the rate of a dollar 'n' a half an hour. I hadn't got out more'n +two questions 'fore Purdy cuts loose with the story of his life. + +"It's almost the same as asking me to choose my lot in the cemetery," +says he, "this notion of Aunt Isabella's for sending me out to buy +snakes." + +"I thought it was Valentine they was for?" says I. "Where does he come +in?" + +That fetches us to Chapter One, which begins with Aunt Isabella. It +seems that some time back, after she'd planted one hubby in Ohio and +another in Greenwood, and had pinned 'em both down secure with cut +granite slabs, aunty had let herself go for another try. This time she +gets an Englishman. He couldn't have been very tough, to begin with, +for he didn't last long. Neither did a brother of his; although you +couldn't lay that up against Isabella, as brother in law got himself +run over by a train. About all he left was a couple of +fourteen-year-old youngsters stranded in a boarding school. That was +Purdy and Valentine, and they was only half brothers at that, with +nobody that they could look up to for anything more substantial than +sympathy. So it was up to the step-aunt to do the rescue act. + +Well, Isabella has accumulated all kinds of dough; but she figures out +that the whole of one half brother was about all she wanted as a +souvenir to take home from dear old England. She looks the two of 'em +over for a day, tryin' to decide which to take, and then Purdy's +'lasses coloured hair wins out against Valentine's brick dust bangs. +She finds a job for Vally, a place where he can almost earn a livin', +gives him a nice new prayer book and her blessin', and cuts him adrift +in the fog. Then she grabs Purdy by the hand and catches the next boat +for New York. + +From then on it's all to the downy for Purdy, barrin' the fact that the +old girl's more or less tryin' to the nerves. She buys herself a +double breasted house just off the avenue, gives Purdy the best there +is goin', and encourages him to be as ladylike as he knows how. + +And say, what would you expect? I'd hate to think of what I'd be now +if I'd been brought up on a course of dancin' school, music lessons, +and Fauntleroy suits. What else was there for Purdy to do but learn to +drink tea with lemon in it, and lead cotillions? Aunt Isabella's been +takin' on weight and losin' her hearin'. When she gets so that she +can't eat chicken salad and ice cream at one A. M. without rememberin' +it for three days, and she has to buy pearls to splice out her +necklace, and have an extra wide chair put in her op'ra box, she begins +to sour on the merry-merry life, scratches half the entries on her +visitin' list, and joins old lady societies that meet once a month in +the afternoon. + +"Of course," says Purdy, "I had no objection to all that. It was +natural. Only after she began to bring Anastasia around, and hint very +plainly what she expected me to do, I began to get desperate." + +"Stashy wa'n't exactly your idea of a pippin, eh?" says I. + +That was what. Accordin' to Purdy's shorthand notes, Stashy was one of +these square chinned females that ought to be doin' a weight liftin' +act with some tent show. But she wa'n't. She had too much out at +int'rest for that, and as she didn't go in for the light and frivolous +she has to have something to keep her busy. So she starts out as a +lady preventer. Gettin' up societies to prevent things was her fad. +She splurges on 'em, from the kind that wants to put mufflers on +steamboat whistles, to them that would like to button leggins on the +statues of G. Wash. For all that, though, she thinks it's her duty to +marry some man and train him, and between her and Aunt Isabella they'd +picked out Purdy for the victim. + +"While you'd gone and tagged some pink and white, mink lined Daisy +May?" says I. + +"I hadn't thought about getting married at all," says Purdy. + +"Then you might's well quit squirmin'," says I. "If you've got two of +that kind plannin' out your future, there ain't any hope." + +Then we gets down to Valentine, the half brother that has been cut +loose. Just as Purdy has given it to aunty straight that he'd rather +drop out of two clubs and have his allowance cut in half, than tie up +to any such tailor made article as Anastasia, and right in the middle +of Aunt Isabella's gettin' purple faced and puffy eyed over it, along +comes a lengthy letter from Valentine. + +It ain't any hard luck wheeze, either. He's no hungry prod., Vally +ain't. He's been doin' some tall climbin', all these years that +Purdy's been collectin' pearl stick pins and gold cigarette cases, and +changin' his clothes four times a day. Vally has jumped from one job +to another, played things clear across the board and the ends against +the middle, chased the pay envelope almost off the edge of the map, and +finished somewhere on the east coast of Africa, where he bosses a +couple of hundred coloured gentlemen in the original package, and makes +easy money by bein' agent for a big firm of London iv'ry importers. +He'd been makin' a trip to headquarters with a cargo, and was on his +way back to the iv'ry fields, when the notion struck him to stop off in +New York and say howdy to Aunt Isabella and Brother Purd. + +"And she hasn't talked about anything but Valentine since," says Purdy. + +"It's Vally's turn to be it; eh?" says I. + +"You'd think so if you could hear them," says he. "Anastasia is just +as enthusiastic." + +"You ain't gettin' jealous, are you?" says I. + +Purdy unreefs the sickliest kind of a grin you ever saw. "I was as +pleased as anyone," says he, "until I found out the whole of Aunt +Isabella's plan." + +And say, it was a grand right and left that she'd framed up. Matin' +Stashy up with Valentine instead of Purdy was only part. Her idea was +to induce Vally to settle down with her, and ship Purdy off to look +after the iv'ry job. + +"Only fancy!" says Purdy. "It's a place called Bombazoula! Why, you +can't even find it on the chart. I'd die if I had to live in such a +dreadful place." + +"Is it too late to get busy and hand out the hot air to Stashy?" says +I. "Looks to me like it was either you for her, or Bombazoula for you." + +"Don't!" says Purdy, and he shivers like I'd slipped an icicle down his +back. Honest, he was takin' it so hard I didn't have the heart to rub +it in. + +"Maybe Valentine'll renig--who knows?" says I. "He may be so stuck on +Africa that she can't call him off." + +"Oh, Aunt Isabella has thought of that," says he. "She is so provoked +with me that she will do everything to make him want to stay; and if I +remember Valentine, he'll be willing. Besides, who would want to live +in Africa when they could stop in New York? But I do think she might +have sent some one else after those snakes." + +"Oh, yes!" says I. "I'd clean forgot about them. Where do they figure +in this?" + +"Decoration," says Purdy. "In my old rooms too!" + +Seems that Stashy and aunty had been reading up on Bombazoula, and +they'd got it down fine. Then they turns to and lays themselves out to +fix things up for Valentine so homelike and comfortable that, even if +he was ever so homesick for the jungle, like he wrote he was, he +wouldn't want to go any farther. + +First they'd got a lot of big rubber trees and palms, and filled the +rooms full of 'em, with the floors covered with stage grass, and half a +dozen grey parrots to let loose. They'd even gone so far as to try to +hire a couple of fake Zulus from a museum to come up and sing the +moonrise song; so's Vally wouldn't be bothered about goin' to sleep +night. The snakes twinin' around the rubber trees was to add the +finishin' touch. Course, they wanted the harmless kind, that's had +their stingers cut out; but snakes of some sort they'd just got to +have, or else they knew it wouldn't seem like home to Valentine. + +"Just as though I cared whether he is going to feel at home or not!" +says Purdy, real pettish. "By, Jove, Shorty! I've half a mind not to +do it. So there!" + +"Gee!" says I. "I wouldn't have your temper for anything. Shall we +signal the driver to do a pivot and head her north?" + +"N-n-n-o," says Purdy, reluctant. + +And right there I gets a seventh son view of Aunt Isabella crackin' the +checkbook at Purdy, and givin' him the cold spine now and then by +threatenin' to tear up the will. From that on I feels different +towards him. He'd got to a point where it was either please Aunt +Isabella, or get out and hustle; and how to get hold of real money +except by shovin' pink slips at the payin' teller was part of his +education that had been left out. He was up against it for fair. + +"Say, Purdy," says I, "I don't want to interfere in any family matters; +but since you've put it up to me, let me get this chunk of advice off +my mind: Long's you've got to be nice to aunty or go on a snowball +diet, I'd be nice and do it as cheerful as I could." + +Purdy thinks that over for a minute or so. Then he raps his cane on +the rubber mat, straightens up his shoulders, and says, "By Jove, I'll +do it! I'll get the snakes!" + +That wa'n't so easy, though, as I'd thought. Lefty White says he's +sorry, but he runs a mighty small stock of snakes in winter. He's got +a fine line of spring goods on the way, though, and if we'll just leave +our order---- + +"Ah, say, Lefty!" says I. "You give me shootin' pains. Here I goes +and cracks up your joint as a first class snakery and all you can show +is a few angleworms in bottles and a prospectus of what you'll have +next month." + +"Stuffed ones wouldn't do, eh?" says he. + +"Why not?" says I. + +Purdy wa'n't sure, but he thought he'd take a chance on 'em; so we +picked out three of the biggest and spottedest ones in the shop, and +makes Lefty promise to get 'em up there early next forenoon, for +Valentine was due to show up by dinner time next night. + +On the way back we talks it over some more, and I tries to chirk Purdy +up all I could; for every time he thinks of Bombazoula he has a +shiverin' fit that nearly knocks him out. + +"I could never stand it to go there," says he--"never!" + +"Here, here!" says I. "That's no way to meet a thing like this. What +you want to do is to chuck a bluff. Jump right into this reception +business with both feet and let on you're tickled to death with the +prospect. Aunty won't take half the satisfaction in shunting you off +to the monkey woods if she thinks you want to go." + +Beats all what a little encouragement will do for some folks. By the +time Purdy drops me at the Studio he's feelin' a whole lot better, and +is prepared to give Vally the long lost brother grip when he comes. + +But I was sorry for Purdy just the same. I could see him, over there +at Bombazoula, in a suit of lavender pajamas, tryin' to organise a +cotillion with a lot of heavy weight brunettes, wearin' brass rings in +their noses and not much else. And all next day I kept wonderin' if +Aunt Isabella's scheme was really goin' to pan. So, when Purdy rushes +in about four o'clock, and wants me to come up and take a look at the +layout, I was just about ripe for goin' to see the show. + +"But I hope we can shy aunty," says I. "Sometimes I get along with +these old battle axes first rate, and then again I don't; and what +little reputation you got left at home I don't want to queer." + +"Oh, that will be all right," says Purdy. "She has heard of you from +Pinckney, and she knows about how you helped me to get the snakes." + +"Did they fit in?" says I. + +"Come up and see," says Purdy. + +And it was worth the trip, just to get a view of them rooms. Nobody +but a batty old woman would have ever thought up so many jungle stunts +for the second floor of a brownstone front. + +"There!" says Purdy. "Isn't that tropical enough?" + +I took a long look. "Well," says I, "I've never been farther south +than Old Point, but I've seen such things pictured out before now, and +if I'm any judge, this throws up a section of the cannibal belt to the +life." + +It did too. They had the dark shades pulled down, and the light was +kind of dim; but you could see that the place was chock full of ferns +and palms and such. The parrots was hoppin' around, and you could hear +water runnin' somewheres, and they'd trained them spotted snakes around +the rubber trees just as natural as if they'd crawled up there by +themselves. + +While we was lookin' Aunt Isabella comes puffin' up the stairs. + +"Isn't it just charming, Mr. McCabe?" says she, holdin' a hand up +behind one ear. "I can hardly wait for dear Valentine to come, I'm so +anxious to see how pleased he'll be. He just dotes on jungle life. +The dear boy! You must come up and take tea with him some afternoon. +He's a very shy, diffident little chap; but----" + +At that the door bell starts ringin' like the house was afire, and +bang! bang! goes someone's fist on the outside panel. Course, we all +chases down stairs to see what's broke loose; but before we gets to the +front hall the butler has the door open, and in pushes a husky, red +whiskered party, wearin' a cloth cap, a belted ulster with four checks +to the square yard, and carryin' an extension leather bag about the +size of a small trunk, with labels pasted all over it. + +"It's a blawsted shyme, that's w'at it is!" says he--"me p'yin' 'alf a +bob for a two shillin' drive. These cabbies of yours is a set of +bloomink 'iw'ymen!" + +"What name, sir?" says the butler. + +"Nime!" roars the whiskered gent. "I'm Valentine, that's who I am! +Tyke the luggage, you shiverin' pie face!" + +"Oh, Valentine!" squeals Aunt Isabella, makin' a rush at him with her +arms out. + +"Sheer off, aunty!" says he. "Cut out the bally tommyrot and let me +'ave a wash. And sye, send some beggar for the brandy and soda. +Where's me rooms?" + +"I'll show you up, Valentine," chips in Purdy. + +"'Ello! 'O's the little man?" says Vally. "Blow me if it ain't Purdy! +Trot along up, Purdy lad, and show me the digs." + +Say, he was a bird, Vally was. He talks like a Cockney, acts like a +bounder, and looks 'em both. + +Aunt Isabella has dropped on the hall seat, gaspin' for breath, the +butler is leanin' against the wall with his mouth open; so I grabs the +bag and starts up after the half brothers. Just by the peachblow tint +of Vally's nose I got the idea that maybe the most entertainin' part of +this whole program was billed to take place on the second floor. + +"Here you are," says Purdy, swingin' open the door and shovin' him in. +"Aunt Isabella has fixed things up homelike for you, you see." + +"And here's your trunk," says I. "Make yourself to home," and I shuts +him in to enjoy himself. + +It took Valentine just about twenty seconds to size up the interior +decorations; for Purdy'd turned on the incandescents so's to give him a +good view, and that had stirred up the parrots some. What I was +waitin' for was for him to discover the spotted snakes. I didn't think +he could miss 'em, for they was mighty prominent. Nor he didn't. It +wasn't only us heard it, but everyone else on the block. + +"Wow!" says he. "'Elp! 'Elp! Lemme out! I'm bein' killed!" + +That was Valentine, bellerin' enough to take the roof off, and clawin' +around for the doorknob on the inside. He comes out as if he'd been +shot through a chute, his eyes stickin' out like a couple of peeled +onions, an' a grey parrot hangin' to one ear. + +"What's the trouble?" says Purdy. + +"Br-r-r!" says Valentine, like a clogged steam whistle. "Where's the +nearest 'orspital? I'm a sick man! Br-r-r-r!" + +With that he starts down the stairs, takin' three at a time, bolts +through the front door, and makes a dash down the street, yellin' like +a kid when a fire breaks out. + +Purdy and me didn't have any time to watch how far he went, for Aunt +Isabella had keeled over on the rug, the maid was havin' a fit in the +parlour, and the butler was fannin' himself with the card tray. We had +to use up all the alcohol and smellin' salts in the house before we +could bring the bunch around. When aunty's so she can hold her head up +and open her eyes, she looks about cautious, and whispers: + +"Has--has he gone, Purdy, dear?" + +Purdy says he has. + +"Then," she says to me, "bolt that door, and never mention his name to +me again." + +Everything's lovely now. Purdy's back to the downy, and Bombazoula's +wiped off the map for good. + +And say! If you're lookin' for a set of jungle scenery and stuffed +snakes, I know where you can get a job lot for the askin'. + + + + +XIV + +A HUNCH FOR LANGDON + +Say, the longer I knocks around and the more kinds I meet, the slower I +am about sizin' folks up on a first view. I used to think there was +only two classes, them that was my kind and them that wa'n't; but I've +got over that. I don't try to grade 'em up any more; for they're built +on so many different plans it would take a card index the size of a +flat buildin' to keep 'em all on file. All I can make out is that +there's some good points about the worst of 'em, and some of the best +has their streak of yellow. + +Anyway, I'm glad I ain't called on to write a tag for Langdon. First +news I had of him was what I took for inside information, bein' as it +was handed me by his maw. When I gets the note askin' me to call up in +the 70's between five and six I don't know whether it's a bid to a tea +fest or a bait for an auction. The stationery was real swell, though, +and the writin' was this up and down kind that goes with the gilt +crest. What I could puzzle out of the name, though, wa'n't familiar. +But I follows up the invite and takes a chance. + +So about five-thirty I'm standin' outside the glass doors pushin' the +bell. A butler with boiled egg eyes looks me over real frosty from +behind the lace curtains; but the minute I says I'm Shorty McCabe he +takes off the tramp chain and says, "Yes, sir. This way, sir." I'm +towed in over the Persian hall runner to the back parlour, where +there's a lady and gent sittin' on opposite sides of the coal grate, +with a tea tray between 'em. + +"I'll be drinkin' that stuff yet, if I ain't careful," thinks I. + +But I didn't even have to duck. The lady was so anxious to get to +talkin' that she forgot to shove the cups at me, and the gent didn't +act like it was his say. It was hard to tell, the way she has the +lights fixed, whether she was twenty-five or fifty. Anyway, she hadn't +got past the kittenish stage. Some of 'em never does. She don't +overdo the thing, but just gushes natural; usin' her eyes, and +eyebrows, and the end of her nose, and the tip of her chin when she +spoke, as well as throwin' in a few shoulder lifts once in awhile. + +"It's so good of you to come up, professor!" says she. "Isn't it, +Pembroke?" + +Pembroke--he's the gent on the other side of the tray--starts to say +that it was, but she don't give him a chance. She blazes right ahead, +tellin' how she's heard of me and my Studio through friends, and the +minute she hears of it, she knows that nothing would suit Langdon +better. "Langdon's my son, you know," says she. + +"Honest?" says I. + +"Te-he!" says she. "How sweet of you! Hardly anyone believes it at +first, though. But he's a dear boy; isn't he, Pembroke?" + +This was Pembroke's cue for fair. It's up to him to do the boost act. +But all he produces is a double barrelled blink from behind the +glasses. He's one of these chubby chaps, Pembroke is, especially +around the belt. He has pink cheeks, and a nice white forehead that +almost meets the back of his collar. But he knows when to let things +slide with a blink. + +"I guess some one's been givin' you the wrong steer," says I. "I ain't +started any kindergarten class yet. The Y. M. C. A. does that sort +of----" + +"Oh, dear! but Langdon isn't a child, you know," says the lady. "He's +a great big fellow, almost twenty-two. Yes, really. And I know you'll +get to be awfully fond of him. Won't he, Pembroke?" + +"We-e-e-ell----" says Pembroke. + +"Oh, he's bound to," says she. "Of course, Langdon doesn't always make +friends easily. He is so apt to be misunderstood. Why, they treated +him perfectly horrid at prep. school, and even worse at college. A lot +of the fellows, and, actually, some of the professors, were so rude to +him that Langdon said he just wouldn't stay another day! I told him I +didn't blame him a bit. So he came home. But it's awfully dull for a +young man like Langdon here in New York, you know." + +"Crippled, or blind or something, is he?" says I. + +"Who, Langdon? Why, he's perfect--absolutely perfect!" says she. + +"Oh, that accounts for it," says I, and Pembroke went through some +motions with his cheeks like he was tryin' to blow soap bubbles up in +the air. + +Well, it seems that mother has been worryin' a lot over keepin' Langdon +amused. Think of it, in a town like this! + +"He detests business," says she, "and he doesn't care for theatres, or +going to clubs, or reading, or society. But his poor dear father +didn't care for any of those things either, except business. And +Langdon hasn't any head for that. All he takes an interest in is his +machine." + +"Singer or Remington?" says I. + +"Why, his auto, of course. He's perfectly devoted to that," says she; +"but the police are so dreadfully particular. Oh, they make such lots +of trouble for Langdon, and get him into such stupid scrapes. Don't +they, Pembroke?" + +Pembroke didn't blink at that. He nods twice. + +"It just keeps me worried all the time," she goes on. "It isn't that I +mind paying the absurd fines, of course; but--well, you can understand. +No one knows what those horrid officers will do next, they're so +unreasonable. Just think, that is the poor boy's only pleasure! So I +thought that if we could only get Langdon interested in something of an +athletic nature--he's a splendid boxer, you know--oh, splendid!" + +"That's different," says I. "You might send him down a few times +and----" + +"Oh, but I want you to meet him first," says she, "and arouse his +enthusiasm. He would never go if you didn't. I expect he will be in +soon, and then-- Why, that must be Langdon now!" + +It might have been an axe brigade from the district attorney's office, +or a hook and ladder company, by the sound. I didn't know whether he +was comin' through the doors or bringin' 'em in with him. As I squints +around I sees the egg eyed butler get shouldered into the hall rack; so +I judges that Langdon must be in something of a hurry. + +He gets over it, though, for he stamps into the middle of the room, +plants his feet wide apart, throws his leather cap with the goggles on +into a chair, and chucks one of them greasy bootleg gloves into the +middle of the tea tray. + +"Hello, maw!" he growls. "Hello, Fatty! You here again?" + +Playful little cuss, Langdon was. He's about five feet nine, short +necked, and broad across the chest. But he's got a nice face--for a +masked ball--eyes the colour of purple writin' ink, hair of a lovely +ripe tomato shade growin' down to a peak in front and standin' up stiff +and bristly; a corrugated brow, like a washboard; and an undershot jaw, +same's a bull terrier. Oh, yes, he was a dear boy, all right. In his +leggin's and leather coat he looks too cute for any use. + +"Who's this?" says he, gettin' sight of me sittin' sideways on the +stuffed chair. + +"Why, Langdon dear," says maw, "this is Professor McCabe. I was +speaking to you of him, you know." + +He looks me over as friendly as if I was some yegg man that had been +hauled out of the coal cellar. "Huh!" says he. I've heard freight +engines coughin' up a grade make a noise a good deal like that. + +Say, as a rule I ain't anxious to take on new people, and it's gettin' +so lately that we turn away two or three a week; but it didn't take me +long to make up my mind that I could find time for a session with +Langdon, if he wanted it. + +"Your maw says you do a little boxin'?" says I, smooth and soothin'. + +"What of it?" says he. + +"Well," says I, "down to my Studio we juggle the kid pillows once in +awhile ourselves, when we ain't doin' the wand drill, or playin' bean +bag." + +"Huh!" says he once more. + +For a parlour conversationalist, Langdon was a frost, and he has +manners that would turn a subway guard green. But maw jumps in with +enough buttered talk for both, and pretty soon she tells me that +Langdon's perfectly delighted and will be down next day. + +"Me and Mr. Gallagher'll be on the spot," says I. "Good evenin', +ma'am." + +At that Pembroke jumps up, makes a quick break away, and trails along +too, so we does a promenade together down West End-ave. + +"Charming young fellow, eh?" says Pembroke. + +"Sure!" says I. "But he hides it well." + +"You think Langdon needs exercise?" says he. + +"Never saw anyone that needed it much worse," says I. + +"Just my notion," says he. "In fact I am so interested in seeing that +Langdon gets it that I am quite willing to pay something extra for----" + +"You don't have to," says I. "I'm almost willin' to do the payin' +myself." + +That pleases Pembroke so much he has to stop right in his tracks and +shake hands. Funny, ain't it, how you can get to be such good friends +with anyone so sudden? We walks thirty blocks, chinnin' like brothers, +and when we stops on the corner of 42d I've got the whole story of maw +and Langdon, with some of Pembroke's hist'ry thrown in. + +It was just a plain case of mother bein' used as a doormat by her dear, +darling boy. She was more or less broke in to it, for it seems that +the late departed had been a good deal of a rough houser in his day, +havin' been about as gentle in his ways as a 'Leventh-ave. bartender +entertainin' the Gas House Gang. He hadn't much more'n quit the game, +though, before Langdon got big enough to carry out the program, and +he'd been at it ever since. + +As near as I could figure, Pembroke was a boyhood friend of maw's. +He'd missed his chance of bein' anything nearer, years ago, but was +still anxious to try again. But it didn't look like there'd be any +weddin' bells for him until Langdon either got his neck broke or was +put away for life. Pemby wa'n't soured, though. He talked real nice +about it. He said he could see how much maw thought of Langdon, and it +showed what good stuff she was made of, her stickin' to the boy until +he'd settled on something, or something had settled on him. Course, he +thought it was about time she had a let up and was treated white for +awhile. + +Accordin' to the hints he dropped, I suspicions that Pembroke would +have ranked her A-1 in the queen class, and I gathers that the size of +her bank account don't cut any ice in this deal, him havin' more or +less of a surplus himself. I guess he'd been a patient waiter; but +he'd set his hopes hard on engagin' the bridal state room for a spring +trip to Europe. + +It all comes back, though, to what could be done with Langdon, and that +was where the form sheet wa'n't any help. There's a million or so left +in trust for him; but he don't get it until he's twenty-five. +Meantime, it was a question of how you're goin' to handle a youngster +that's inherited the instincts of a truck driver and the income of a +bank president. + +"It's a pity, too," says Pembroke. "He hasn't any vicious habits, he's +rather bright, and if he could be started right he would make quite a +man, even now. He needs to be caged up somewhere long enough to' have +some of the bully knocked out of him. I'm hoping you can do a little +along that line." + +"Too big a contract," says I. "All I want is to make his ears buzz a +little, just as a comeback for a few of them grunts he chucked at me." + +And who do you suppose showed up at the Studio next forenoon? Him and +maw; she smilin' all over and tickled to death to think she'd got him +there; Langdon actin' like a bear with a sore ear. + +"Maybe you hadn't better wait," says I to her. + +"Oh, yes," says she. "I am going to stay and watch dear Langdon box, +you know." + +Well, unless I ruled her out flat, there was no way of changin' her +mind; so I had to let her stay. And she saw Langdon box. Oh, yes! +For an amateur, he puts up a fairly good exhibition, and as I didn't +have the heart to throw the hook into him with her sittin' there +lookin' so cheerful, about all I does is step around and block his +swings and jabs. And say, with him carryin' his guard high, and +leavin' the way to his meat safe open half the time, it was all I could +do to hold myself back. + +The only fun I gets is watchin' Swifty Joe's face out of the corner of +my eye. He was pipin' us off from the start. First his mouth comes +open a foot or so as he sees me let a chance slide, and when I misses +more openin's he takes on a look like some one had fed him a ripe egg. + +Langdon is havin' the time of his life. He can hit as hard as he +likes, and he don't get hit back. Must have seemed real homelike to +him. Anyway, soon's he dopes it out that there ain't any danger at +all, he bores in like a snow plough, and between blockin' and duckin' I +has my hands full. + +Just how Langdon has it sized up I couldn't make out; but like as not I +made somethin' of a hit with him. I put it down that way when he shows +up one afternoon with his bubble, and offers to take me for a spin. It +was so unexpected to find him tryin' to do somethin' agreeable that I +don't feel like I ought to throw him down. So I pulls on a sweater and +climbs in next to the steerin' wheel. + +There wa'n't anything fancy about Langdon's oil waggon. He'd had the +tonneau stripped off, and left just the front seat--no varnished wood, +only a coat of primin' paint and a layer of mud splashed over that. +But we hadn't gone a dozen blocks before I am wise to the fact that +nothin' was the matter with the cog wheels underneath. + +"Kind of a high powered cart, ain't it?" says I. + +"Only ninety horse," says Langdon, jerkin' us around a Broadway car so +fast that we grazed both ends at once. + +"You needn't hit 'er up on my account," says I, as we scoots across the +Plaza, makin' a cab horse stand on his hind legs to give us room. + +"I'm only on the second speed," says he. "Wait," and he does some +monkeyin' with the lever. + +Maybe it was Central Park; but it seemed to me like bein' shot through +a Christmas wreath, and the next thing I knows we're tearin' up +Amsterdam-ave. Say, I can see 'em yet, them folks and waggons and +things we missed--women holdin' kids by the hand, old ladies steppin' +out of cars, little girls runnin' across the street with their arms +full of bundles, white wings with their dust cans, and boys with +delivery carts. Sometimes I'd just shut my eyes and listen for the +squashy sound, and when it didn't come I'd open 'em and figure on what +would happen if I should reach out and get Langdon's neck in the crook +of my arm. + +And it wa'n't my first fast ride in town, either. But I'd never been +behind the lamps when a two-ton machine was bein' sent at a fifty-mile +clip up a street crowded with folks that had almost as much right to be +livin' as we did. + +It was a game that suited Langdon all right, though. He's squattin' +behind the wheel bareheaded, with his ketchup tinted hair plastered +back by the wind, them purple eyes shut to a squint, his under jaw +stuck out, and a kind of half grin--if you could call it +that--flickerin' on and off his thick lips. I don't wonder men shook +their fists at us and women turned white and sick as we cleared 'em by +the thickness of a sheet of paper. I expect we left a string of cuss +words three blocks long. + +I don't know how far we went, or where. It was all a nightmare to me, +just a string of gasps and visions of what would be in the papers next +day, after the coroner's jury got busy. But somehow we got through +without any red on the tires, and pulls up in front of the Studio. I +didn't jump out in a hurry, like I wanted to. I needed a minute to +think, for it seemed to me something was due some one. + +"Nice little plaything you've got here," says I. "And that was a great +ride. But sittin' still so long has kind of cramped my legs. Don't +feel like limberin' up a bit with the mitts, do you?" + +"I'd just as soon," says Langdon. + +I was tryin' not to look the way I felt; but when we'd sent Swifty down +to sit in the machine, and I'd got Langdon peeled off and standin' on +the mat, with the spring lock snapped between him and the outside door, +it seemed too good to be true. I'd picked out an old set of gloves +that had the hair worked away from the knuckles some, for I wa'n't +plannin' on any push ball picnic this time. + +Just to stir his fightin' blood, and partly so I could be sure I had a +good grip on my own temper, I let him get in a few facers on me. Then +I opens up with the side remarks I'd been thinkin' over. + +"Say, Langy," says I, sidesteppin' one of his swings for my jaw, +"s'posin' you'd hit some of them people, eh? S'posin' that car of +yours had caught one of them old women--biff!--like that?" and I lets +go a jolt that fetches him on the cheek bone. + +"Ugh!" says Langdon, real surprised. But he shakes his head and comes +back at me. + +"Ever stop to think," says I, "how one of them kids would look after +you'd got him--so?" and I shoots the left into that bull neck of his. + +"S-s-s-say!" sputters Langdon. "What do you think you're doing, +anyway?" + +"Me?" says I. "I'm tryin' to get a few points on the bubble business. +Is it more fun to smash 'em in the ribs--bang!--like that? Or to slug +'em in the head--biff!--so? That's right, son; come in for more. It's +waitin'. There! Jarred your nut a bit, that one did, eh? Yes, here's +the mate to it. There's plenty more on tap. Oh, never mind the nose +claret. It'll wipe off. Keep your guard up. Careful, now! You're +swingin' wide. And, as I was sayin'--there, you ran into that +one--this bubble scorchin' must be great sport. When you +don't--biff!--get 'em--biff! you can scare 'em to death, eh? Wabbly on +your feet, are you? That's the stuff! Keep it up. That eye's all +right. One's all you need to see with. Gosh! Now you've got a pair +of 'em." + +If it hadn't been for his comin' in so ugly and strong I never could +have done it. I'd have weakened and let up on him long before he'd got +half what was owin'. But he was bound to have it all, and there's no +sayin' he wa'n't game about it. At the last I tried to tell him he'd +had enough; but as long as he could keep on his pins he kept hopin' to +get in just one on me; so I finally has to drop him with a stiff one +behind the ear. + +Course, if we'd had ring gloves on he'd looked like he'd been on the +choppin' block; but with the pillows you can't get hurt bad. Inside of +ten minutes I has him all washed off and up in a chair, lookin' not +much worse than before, except for the eye swellin's. And what do you +guess is the first thing he does? + +"Say, McCabe," says he, shovin' out his paw, "you're all right, you +are." + +"So?" says I. "If I thought you was any judge that might carry weight." + +"I know," says he. "Nobody likes me." + +"Oh, well," says I, "I ain't rubbin' it in. I guess there's white +spots in you, after all; even if you do keep 'em covered." + +He pricks up his ears at that, and wants to know how and why. Almost +before I knows it we've drifted into a heart to heart talk that a half +hour before I would have said couldn't have happened. Langdon ain't +turned cherub; but he's a whole lot milder, and he takes in what I've +got to say as if it was a bulletin from headquarters. + +"That's all so," says he. "But I've got to do something. Do you know +what I'd like best?" + +I couldn't guess. + +"I'd like to be in the navy and handle one of those big thirteen-inch +guns," says he. + +"Why not, then?" says I. + +"I don't know how to get in," says he. "I'd go in a minute, if I did." + +"You're as good as there now, then," says I. "There's a recruitin' +office around on Sixth-ave., not five blocks from here, and the +Lieutenant's somethin' of a friend of mine. Is it a go?" + +"It is," says Langdon. + +Hanged if he didn't mean it too, and before he can change his mind +we've had the papers all made out. + +In the mornin' I 'phones Pembroke, and he comes around to lug me up +while he breaks the news to maw; for he says she'll need a lot of +calmin' down. I was lookin' for nothin' less than cat fits, too. But +say, she don't even turn on the sprayer. + +"The navy!" says she. "Why, how sweet! Oh, I'm so glad! Won't +Langdon make a lovely officer?" + +I don't know how it's goin' to work out; but there's one sure thing: +it'll be some time before Langdon'll be pestered any more by the +traffic cops. + +And, now that the state room's engaged, you ought to see how well +Pembroke is standin' the blow. + + + + +XV + +SHORTY'S GO WITH ART + +When me and art gets into the ring together, you might as well burn the +form sheet and slip the band back on your bettin' roll, for there's no +tellin' who'll take the count. + +It was Cornelia Ann that got me closer to art than I'd ever been +before, or am like to get again. Now, I didn't hunt her up, nor she +didn't come gunnin' for me. It was a case of runnin' down signals and +collidin' on the stair landin'; me makin' a grand rush out of the +Studio for a cross town car, and she just gettin' her wind 'fore she +tackled the next flight. + +Not that I hit her so hard; but it was enough to spill the paper +bundles she has piled up on one arm, and start 'em bouncin' down the +iron steps. First comes a loaf of bread; next a bottle of pickles, +that goes to the bad the third hop; and exhibit C was one of these +ten-cent dishes of baked beans--the pale kind, that look like they'd +floated in with the tide. Course, that dinky tin pan they was in don't +land flat. It slips out of the bag as slick as if it was greased, +stands up on edge, and rolls all the way down, distributin' the mess +from top to bottom, as even as if it was laid on with a brush. + +"My luncheon!" says she, in a reg'lar me-che-e-ild voice. + +"Lunch!" says I. "That's what I'd call a spread. This one's on the +house, but the next one will be on me. Will to-morrow do?" + +"Ye-es," says she. + +"Sorry," says I, "but I'm runnin' behind sched. now. What's the name, +miss?" + +"C. A. Belter, top floor," says she; "but don't mind about----" + +"That'll be all right, too," says I, skippin' down over the broken +glass and puntin' the five-cent white through the door for a goal. + +It's little things like that, though, that keeps a man from forgettin' +how he was brought up. I'm ready enough with some cheap jolly, but +when it comes to throwin' in a "beg pardon" at the right place I'm a +late comer. I thinks of 'em sometime next day. + +Course, I tries to get even by orderin' a four-pound steak, with +mushroom trimmin's, sent around from the hotel on the corner; but I +couldn't get over thinkin' how disappointed she looked when she saw +that pan of beans doin' the pinwheel act. I know I've seen the time +when a plate of pork-and in my fist would have been worth all the +turkey futures you could stack in a barn, and maybe it was that way +with her. + +Anyway, she didn't die of it, for a couple of days later she knocks +easy on the Studio door and gets her head in far enough to say how nice +it was of me to send her that lovely steak. + +"Forget it," says I. + +"Never," says she. "I'm going to do a bas relief of you, in memory of +it." + +"A barrel which?" says I. + +Honest, I wa'n't within a mile of bein' next. It comes out that she +does sculpturing and wants to make a kind of embossed picture of me in +plaster of paris, like what the peddlers sell around on vacant stoops. + +"I'd look fine on a panel, wouldn't I?" says I. "Much obliged, miss, +but sittin' for my halftone is where I draws the line. I'll lend you +Swifty Joe, though." + +She ain't acquainted with the only registered assistant professor of +physical culture in the country, but she says if he don't mind she'll +try her hand on him first, and then maybe I'll let her do one of me. +Now, you'd thought Swifty, with that before-takin' mug of his, would +have hid in the cellar 'fore he'd let anybody make a cast of it; but +when the proposition is sprung, he's as pleased as if it was for the +front page of Fox's pink. + +That was what fetched me up to that seven by nine joint of hers, next +the roof, to have a look at what she'd done to Swifty Joe. He tows me +up there. And say, blamed if she hadn't got him to the life, broken +nose, ingrowin' forehead, whopper jaw, and all! + +"How about it?" says Joe, grinnin' at me as proud as if he'd broke into +the Fordham Heights Hall of Fame. + +"I never see anything handsomer--of the kind," says I. + +Then I got to askin' questions about the sculpturin' business, and how +the market was; so Miss Belter and me gets more or less acquainted. +She was a meek, slimpsy little thing, with big, hungry lookin' eyes, +and a double hank of cinnamon coloured hair that I should have thought +would have made her neck ache to carry around. + +Judgin' by the outfit in her ranch, the sculp-game ain't one that +brings in sable lined coats and such knickknacks. There was a bed +couch in one corner, a single burner gas stove on an upended trunk in +another, and chunks of clay all over the place. Light housekeepin' and +art don't seem to mix very well. Maybe they're just as tasty, but I'd +as soon have my eggs cooked in a fryin' pan that hadn't been used for a +mortar bed. + +We passed the time of day reg'lar after that, and now and then she'd +drop into the front office to show me some piece she'd made. I finds +out that the C. A. in her name stands for Cornelia Ann; so I drops the +Miss Belter and calls her that. + +"Father always calls me that, too," says she. + +"Yes?" says I. + +That leads up to the story of how the old folks out in Minnekeegan have +been backin' her for a two years' stab at art in a big city. Seems it +has been an awful drain on the fam'ly gold reserve, and none of 'em +took any stock in such foolishness anyway, but she'd jollied 'em into +lettin' her have a show to make good, and now the time was about up. + +"Well," says I, "you ain't all in, are you?" + +Her under lip starts to pucker up at that, and them hungry eyes gets +foggy; but she takes a new grip on herself, makes a bluff at grinnin', +and says, throaty like, "It's no use pretending any longer, I--I'm a +failure!" + +Say, that makes me feel like an ice cream sign in a blizzard. I hadn't +been lookin' to dig up any private heart throbs like that. But there +it was; so I starts in to cheer her up the best I knew how. + +"Course," says I, "it's a line I couldn't shake a nickel out of in a +year; but if it suited me, and I thought I was onto my job, I'd make it +yield the coin, or go good and hungry tryin'." + +"Perhaps I have gone hungry," says she, quiet like. + +"Honest?" says I. + +"That steak lasted me for a week," says she. + +There was more particulars followed that throws Cornelia Ann on the +screen in a new way for me. Grit! Why, she had enough to sand a +tarred roof. She'd lived on ham knuckles and limed eggs and Swiss +cheese for months. She'd turned her dresses inside out and upside +down, lined her shoes with paper when it was wet, and wore a long +sleeved shirt waist when there wa'n't another bein' used this side of +the prairies. And you can judge what that means by watchin' the women +size each other up in a street car. + +"If they'd only given me half a chance to show what I could do!" says +she. "But I didn't get the chance, and perhaps it was my fault. So +what's the use? I'll just pack up and go back to Minnekeegan." + +"Minnekeegan!" says I. "That sounds tough. What then?" + +"Oh," says she, "my brother is foreman in a broom factory. He will get +me a job at pasting labels." + +"Say," says I, gettin' a quick rush of blood to the head, "s'posen I +should contract for a full length of Swifty Joe to hang here in----" + +"No you don't!" says she, edgin' off. "It's good of you, but charity +work isn't what I want." + +Say, it wa'n't any of my funeral, but that broom fact'ry proposition +stayed with me quite some time. The thoughts of anyone havin' to go +back to a place with a name like Minnekeegan was bilious enough; but +for a girl that had laid out to give Macmonnies a run for the gold +medal, the label pastin' prospect must have loomed up like a bad dream. + +There's one good thing about other folks's troubles though--they're +easy put on the shelf. Soon's I gets to work I forgets all about +Cornelia Ann. I has to run out to Rockywold that afternoon, to put Mr. +Purdy Pell through his reg'lar course of stunts that he's been takin' +since some one told him he was gettin' to be a forty-fat. There was a +whole bunch of swells on hand; for it's gettin' so, now they can go and +come in their own tourin' cars, that winter house parties are just as +common as in summer. + +"Thank heaven you've come!" says Mr. Pell. "It gives me a chance to +get away from cards for an hour or so." + +"Guess you need it," says I. "You look like the trey of spades." + +Then Pinckney shows up in the gym., and he no sooner sees us at work +with the basket ball than he begins to peel off. "I say there!" says +he. "Count me in on some of that, or I'll be pulled into another +rubber." + +About an hour later, after they'd jollied me into stayin' all night, I +puts on a sweater and starts out for some hoof exercise in the young +blizzard that was makin' things white outside. Sadie holds me up at +the door. Her cheeks was blazin', and I could see she was holdin' the +Sullivan temper down with both hands. + +"Hello!" says I. "What's been stirrin' you up?" + +"Bridge!" snaps she. "I guess if you'd been glared at for two hours, +and called stupid when you lost, and worse names when you won, you'd +feel like throwing the cards at some one." + +"Well, why didn't you?" says I. + +"I did," says she, "and there's an awful row on; but I don't care! And +if you don't stop that grinnin', I'll----" + +Well, she does it. That's the way with Sadie, words is always too slow +for her. Inside of a minute she's out chasin' me around the front yard +and peltin' me with snow balls. + +"See here," says I, diggin' a hunk of snow out of one ear, "that kind +of sport's all to the merry; but if I was you I'd dress for the part. +Snowballin' in slippers and silk stockin's and a lace dress is a +pneumonia bid, even if you are such a warm one on top." + +"Who's a red head?" says she. "You just wait a minute, Shorty McCabe, +and I'll make you sorry for that!" + +It wa'n't a minute, it was nearer fifteen; but when Sadie shows up +again she's wearin' the slickest Canuck costume you ever see, all +blanket stripes and red tassels, like a girl on a gift calendar. + +"Whe-e-e!" says she, and the snow begins to fly in chunks. It was the +damp, packy kind that used to make us go out and soak the tall hats +when we was kids. And Sadie hasn't forgot how to lam 'em in, either. +We was havin' it hot and lively, all over the lawn, when the first +thing I knows out comes Mrs. Purdy Pell and Pinckney and a lot of +others, to join in the muss. They'd dragged out a whole raft of +toboggan outfits from the attic, and the minute they gets 'em on they +begins to act as coltish as two-year-olds. + +Well say, you wouldn't have thought high rollers like them, that gets +their fun out of playin' the glass works exhibit at the op'ra, and +eatin' one A. M. suppers at Sherry's, and doublin' no trumps at a +quarter a point, could unbuckle enough to build snow forts, and yell +like Indians, and cut up like kids generally. But they does--washed +each other's faces, and laughed and whooped it up until dark. Didn't +need the dry Martinis to jolly up appetites for that bunch when dinner +time come, and if there was anyone awake in Rockywold after ten o'clock +that night it was the butler and the kitchen help. + +I looked for 'em to forget it all by mornin' and start in again on +their punky card games; but they was all up bright and early, plannin' +out new stunts. There'd been a lot of snow dropped durin' the night, +and some one gets struck with the notion that buildin' snow men would +be the finest sport in the world. They couldn't hardly wait to eat +breakfast before they gets on their blanket clothes and goes at it. +They was rollin' up snow all over the place, as busy as +'longshoremen--all but Pinckney. He gives out that him and me has been +appointed an art committee, to rake in an entrance fee of ten bones +each and decide who gets the purse for doin' the best job. + +"G'wan!" says I. "I couldn't referee no such fool tournament as this." + +"That's right, be modest!" says he. "Don't mind our feelings at all." + +Then Sadie and Mrs. Pell butts in and says I've just got to do it; so I +does. We gives 'em so long to pile up their raw material, and half an +hour after that to carve out what they thinks they can do best, nothin' +barred. Some starts in on Teddy bears, one gent plans out a cop; but +the most of 'em don't try anything harder'n plain snow men, with lumps +of coal for eyes, and pipes stuck in to finish off the face. + +It was about then that Count Skiphauser moves out of the background and +begins to play up strong. He's one of these big, full blooded pretzels +that's been everywhere, and seen everything, and knows it all, and +thinks there ain't anything but what he can do a little better'n +anybody else. + +"Oh, well," says he, "I suppose I must show you what snow carving +really is. I won a prize for this sort of thing in Berlin, you know." + +"It's all over now," says I to Pinckney. "You heard Skippy pickin' +himself for a winner, didn't you?" + +"He's a bounder," says Pinckney, talkin' corner-wise--"lives on his +bridge and poker winnings. He mustn't get the prize." + +But Skiphauser ain't much more'n blocked out a head and shoulders 'fore +it was a cinch he was a ringer, with nothin' but a lot of rank amateurs +against him. Soon's the rest saw what they was up against they all +laid down, for he was makin' 'em look like six car fares. Course, +there wa'n't nothin' to do but join the gallery and watch him win in a +walk. + +"Oh, it's a bust of Bismarck, isn't it?" says one of the women. "How +clever of you, Count!" + +At that Skippy throws out his chest and begins to chuck in the +flourishes. That kind of business suited him down to the ground. He +cocks his head on one side, twists up his lip whiskers like Billy the +Tooth, and goes through all the motions of a man that knows he's givin' +folks a treat. + +"Hates himself, don't he?" says I. "He must have graduated from some +tombstone foundry." + +Pinckney was wild. So was Sadie and Mrs. Purdy Pell, on account of the +free-for-all bein' turned into a game of solitaire. + +"I just wish," says Sadie, "that there was some way of taking him down +a peg. If I only knew of someone who----" + +"I do, if you don't," says I. + +Say, what do you reckon had been cloggin' my thought works all that +time. I takes the three of 'em to one side and springs my proposition, +tellin' 'em I'd put it through if they'd stand for it. Would they? +They're so tickled they almost squeals. + +I gets Swifty Joe at the Studio on the long distance and gives him his +instructions. It was a wonder he got it straight, for sometimes you +can't get an idea into his head without usin' a brace and bit, but this +trip he shows up for a high brow. Pretty quick we gets word that it's +all O. K. Pinckney bulletins it to the crowd that, while Sadie's +pulled out of the competition, she's asked leave to put on a sub, and +that the prize awardin' will be delayed until after the returns are all +in. + +Meantime I climbs into the sleigh and goes down to meet the express. +Sure enough, Cornelia Ann was aboard, a bit hazy about the kind of a +stunt that's expected of her, but ready for anything. I don't go into +many details, for fear of givin' her stage fright; but I lets her know +that if she's got any sculpturin' tricks up her sleeve now's the time +to shake 'em out. + +"I've been tellin' some friends of mine," says I, "that when it comes +to clay art, or plaster of paris art, you was the real lollypop; and I +reckoned that if you could do pieces in mud, you could do 'em just as +well in snow." + +"Snow!" says she. "Why, I never tried." + +Maybe I'd banked too much on Cornelia, or perhaps she was right in +sayin' this was out of her line. Anyway, it was a mighty disappointed +trio that sized her up when I landed her under the porte cochčre. + +When she's run her eye over the size and swellness of the place I've +brought her to, and seen a sample of the folks, she looks half scared +to death. And you wouldn't have played her for a fav'rite, either, if +you'd seen the cheap figure she cut, with them big eyes rollin' around, +as if she was huntin' for the nearest way out. But we give her a cup +of hot tea, makes her put on a pair of fleece lined overshoes and +somebody's Persian lamb jacket, and leads her out to make a try for the +championship. + +Some of 'em was sorry of her, and tried to be sociable; but others just +stood around and snickered and whispered things behind their hands. +Honest, I could have thrown brickbats at myself for bein' such a mush +head. That wouldn't have helped any though, so I gets busy and rolls +together a couple of chunks of snow about as big as flour barrels and +piles one on top of the other. + +"It's up to you, Cornie," says I. "Can't you dig something or other +out of that?" + +She don't say whether she can or can't, but just walks around it two or +three times, lookin' at it dreamy, like she was in a trance. Next she +braces up a bit, calls for an old carvin' knife and a kitchen spoon, +and goes to work, the whole push watchin' her as if she was some freak +in a cage. + +I pipes off her motions for awhile real hopeful, and then I edges out +where I could look the other way. Why say, all she'd done was to hew +out something that looks like a lot of soap boxes piled up for a +bonfire. It was a case of funk, I could see that; and maybe I wa'n't +feelin' like I'd carried a gold brick down to the subtreasury and asked +for the acid test. + +Then I begins to hear the "Oh's!" and "Ah's!" come from the crowd. +First off I thought they was guyin' her, but when I strolls back near +enough for a peek at what she was up to, my mouth comes open, too. +Say, you wouldn't believe it less'n you'd seen it done, but she was +just fetchin' out of that heap of snow, most as quick and easy as if +she was unpackin' it from a crate, the stunningest lookin' altogether +girl that I ever see outside a museum. + +I don't know who it was supposed to be, or why. She's holdin' up with +one hand what draperies she's got--which wa'n't any too many--an' with +the other she's reachin' above her head after somethin' or other--maybe +the soap on the top shelf. But she was a beaut, all right. And all +Cornelia was doin' to bring her out was just slashin' away careless +with the knife and spoon handle, hardly stoppin' a second between +strokes. She simply had 'em goggle eyed. I reckon they'd seen things +just as fine and maybe better, but they hadn't had a front seat before, +while a little ninety-pound cinnamon top like Cornelia Ann stepped up +and yanked a whitewashed angel out of a snow heap. + +"It's wonderful!" says Mrs. Purdy Pell. + +"Looks to me like we had Skippy fingerin' the citrus, don't it?" says I. + +The Count he's been standin' there with his mouth open, like the rest +of us, only growin' redder 'n' redder. + +But just then Cornelia makes one last swipe, drops her tools, and steps +back to take a view. We all quits to see what's comin' next. Well, +she looks and looks at that Lady Reacher she's dug out, never sayin' a +word; and before we knows it she's slumped right down there in the +snow, with both hands over her face, doin' the weep act like a kid. + +In two shakes it was Sadie and Mrs. Purdy Pell to the rescue, one on +each side, while the rest of us gawps on and looks foolish. + +"What is it, you poor darling?" says Sadie. + +Finally, after a good weep, Cornie unloosens her trouble. "Oh, oh!" +says she. "I just know it's going to rain to-morrow!" + +Now wouldn't that give you a foolish fit? + +"What of it?" says Sadie. + +"That," says she, pointin' to the snow lady. "She'll be gone forever. +Oh, it's wicked, wicked!" + +"Well," says I, "she's too big to go in the ice box." + +"Never mind, dear," says Mrs. Purdy Pell; "you shall stay right here +and do another one, in solid marble. I'll give you a thousand for a +duplicate of that." + +"And then you must do something for me," says Sadie. + +"And me, too," says Mrs. Dicky Madison. + +I didn't wait to hear any more, for boostin' lady sculpturesses ain't +my reg'lar work. But, from all I hear of Cornelia Ann, she won't paste +labels in any broom fact'ry. + +For your simple liver and slow quitter, art's all right; but it's a +long shot, at that. What? + + + + +XVI + +WHY FERDY DUCKED + +Say, there's no tellin', is there? Sometimes the quietest runnin' +bubbles blows up with the biggest bang. Now look at Ferdy. He was as +retirin' and modest as a new lodge member at his first meetin'. Why, +he's so anxious to dodge makin' a show of himself that when he comes +here for a private course I has to lock the Studio door and post Swifty +Joe on the outside to see that nobody butts in. + +All the Dobsons is that way. They're the kind of folks that lives on +Fifth-ave., with the front shades always pulled down, and they shy at +gettin' their names in the papers like it was bein' served with a +summons. + +Course, they did have their dose of free advertisin' once, when that +Tootsy Peroxide bobbed up and tried to break old Peter Dobson's will; +but that case happened so long ago, and there's been so many like it +since, that hardly anybody but the Dobsons remembers it. Must have +been a good deal of a jolt at the time, though; for as far as I've +seen, they're nice folks, and the real thing in the fat wad line, +specially Ferdy. He's that genteel and refined he has to have pearl +grey boxin' gloves to match his gym. suit. + +Well, I wa'n't thinkin' any of him, or his set, havin' just had a +session with a brewer's son that I've took on durin' the dull season, +when I looks out into the front office and sees my little old Bishop +standin' there moppin' his face. + +"Hello, Bishop!" I sings out. "Thought you was in Newport, herdin' the +flock." + +"So I was, Shorty," says he, "until six hours ago. I came down to look +for a stray lamb." + +"Tried Wall Street?" says I. + +"He is not that kind of a lamb," says the Bishop. "It is Ferdinand +Dobson. Have you seen him recently?" + +"What! Ferdy?" says I. "Not for weeks. They're all up at their Lenox +place, ain't they?" + +No, they wa'n't. And then the Bishop puts me next to a little news +item that hadn't got into the society column yet. Ferdy, after gettin' +to be most twenty-five, has been hooked. The girl's name was Alicia, +and soon's I heard it I placed her, havin' seen her a few times at +different swell ranches where I've been knockin' around in the +background. As I remembers her, she has one of these long, high toned +faces, and a shape to match--not what you'd call a neck twister, but +somethin' real classy and high browed, just the sort you'd look for +Ferdy to tag. + +Seems they'd been doin' the lovey-dovey for more'n a year; but all on +the sly, meetin' each other at afternoon teas, and now and then havin' +a ten-minute hand holdin' match under a palm somewhere. They was so +cute about it that even their folks didn't suspect it was a case of +honey and honey boy; not that anyone would have raised a kick, but +because Ferdy don't want any fuss made about it. + +When Alicia's mother gets the facts, though, she writes a new program. +She don't stand for springin' any quiet weddin's on her set. She plans +a big party, where the engagement bulletin is to be flashed on the +screen reg'lar and proper, so's folks can be orderin' their dresses and +weddin' presents. + +Ferdy balks some at the thought of bein' dragged to the centre of the +stage; but he grits his teeth and tells 'em that for this once they can +go as far as they like. He even agrees to leave home for a week and +mix it at a big house party, just to get himself broke in to meetin' +strangers. + +Up to within two days of the engagement stunt he was behavin' lovely; +and the next thing they knows, just when he should be gettin' ready to +show up at Newport, he can't be found. It has all the looks of his +leavin' his clothes on the bank and jumpin' the night freight. Course, +the Dobsons ain't sayin' a word to Alicia's folks yet. They gets their +friends together to organise a still hunt for Ferdy; and the Bishop +bein' one of the inside circle, he's sent out as head scout. + +"And I am at my wits' ends," says he. "No one has seen him in Newport, +and I can't find him at any of his clubs here." + +"How about the Fifth-ave. mausoleum?" says I. + +"His man is there," says the Bishop; "but he seems unable to give me +any information." + +"Does, eh?" says I. "Well, you take it from me that if anyone's got a +line on Ferdy, it's that clam faced Kupps of his. He's been trained so +fine in the silence business that he hardly dares open his mouth when +he eats. Go up there and put him through the wringer." + +"Do what?" says the Bishop. + +"Give him the headquarters quiz," says I. "Tell him you come straight +from mother and sisters, and that Ferdy's got to be found." + +"I hardly feel equal to doing just that," says the Bishop in his mild +way. "Now if you could only----" + +"Why, sure!" says I. "It'd do me good to take a whirl out of that +Englishman. I'll make him give up!" + +He's a bird though, that Kupps. I hadn't talked with him two minutes +before I would have bet my pile he knew all about where Ferdy was +roostin' and what he was up to; but when it come to draggin' out the +details, you might just as well have been tryin' to pry up a pavin' +stone with a fountain pen. Was Ferdy in town, or out of town, and when +would he be back? Kupps couldn't say. He wouldn't even tell how long +it was since he had seen Ferdy last. And say, you know how pig headed +one of them hen brained Cockneys can be? I feels my collar gettin' +tight. + +"Look here, Hiccups!" says I. "You----" + +"Kupps, sir," says he. "Thomas Kupps is my full nyme, sir." + +"Well, Teacups, then, if that suits you better," says I. "You don't +seem to have got it into your head that the Bishop ain't just buttin' +in here for the fun of the thing. This matter of retrievin' Ferdy is +serious. Now you're sure he didn't leave any private messages, or +notes or anything of that kind?" + +"Nothink of the sort, sir; nothink whatever," says Kupps. + +"Well, you just show us up to his rooms," says I, "and we'll have a +look around for ourselves. Eh, Bishop?" + +"Perhaps it would be the best thing to do," says the Bishop. + +Kupps didn't want to do it; but I gives him a look that changes his +mind, and up we goes. I was thinkin' that if Ferdy had got chilly feet +at the last minute and done the deep dive, maybe he'd left a few lines +layin' around his desk. There wa'n't anything in sight, though; +nothin' but a big photograph of a wide, full chested lady, propped up +against the rail. + +"That don't look much like the fair Alicia," says I. + +The Bishop puts on his nigh-to glasses and says it ain't. He thinks it +must have been took of a lady that he'd seen Ferdy chinnin' at the +house party, where he got his last glimpse of him. + +"Good deal of a hummin' bird, she is, eh?" says I, pickin' it up. +"Tutty tut! Look what's here!" Behind it was a photo of Alicia. + +"And here's somethin' else," says I. On the back of the big picture +was scribbled, "From Ducky to Ferdy," and the date. + +"Yesterday!" gasps the Bishop. + +"Well, well!" says I. "That's advancin' the spark some! If he meets +her only a week or so ago, and by yesterday she's got so far as bein' +his ducky, it looks like Alicia'd have to get out and take the car +ahead." + +The Bishop acts stunned, gazin' from me to the picture, as if he'd been +handed one on the dizzy bone. "You--you don't mean," says he, "that +you suspect Ferdy of--of----" + +"I hate to think it," says I; "but this looks like a quick shift. +Kupps, who's Ferdy's lady friend?" + +"Mr. Dobson didn't sye, sir," says Kupps. + +"Very thoughtless of him," says I. "Come on, Bishop, we'll take this +along as a clue and see what Vandy has to say." + +He's a human kodak, Vandy is--makes a livin' takin' pictures for the +newspapers. You can't break into the swell push, or have an argument +with Teddy, or be tried for murder, without Vandy's showin' up to make +a few negatives. So I flashes the photo of Ducky on him. + +"Who's the wide one?" says I. + +"Why, don't you know who that is, Shorty?" says he. + +"Say, do you think I'd be chasin' up any flashlight pirate like you, if +I did?" says I. "What's her name?" + +"That's Madam Brooklini, of course," says he. + +"What, the thousand-dollar-a-minute warbler?" says I. "And me seein' +her lithographs all last winter! Gee, Bishop! I thought you followed +grand opera closer'n that." + +"I should have recalled her," says the Bishop; "but I see so many +faces----" + +"Only a few like that, though," says I. "Vandy, where do you reckon +Mrs. Greater New York could be located just about now?" + +Vandy has the whole story down pat. Seems she's been over here out of +season bringin' suit against her last manager; but havin' held him up +for everything but the gold fillin' in his front teeth, she is booked +to sail back to her Irish castle at four in the mornin'. He knows the +steamer and the pier number. + +"Four A. M., eh?" says I. "That means she's likely to be aboard now, +gettin' settled. Bishop, if that Ducky business was a straight steer, +it's ten to one that a friend of ours is there sayin' good-bye. Shall +we follow it up?" + +"I can hardly credit it," says he. "However, if you think----" + +"It's no cinch," says I; "but this is a case where it won't do to bank +on past performances. From all the signs, Ferdy has struck a new gait." + +The Bishop throws up both hands. "How clearly you put it," says he, +"and how stupid of me not to understand! Should we visit the steamer, +or not?" + +"Bishop," says I, "you're a good guesser. We should." + +And there wa'n't any trouble about locatin' the high artist. All we +has to do is to walk along the promenade deck until we comes to a suite +where the cabin stewards was poppin' in and out, luggin' bunches of +flowers and baskets of fruit, and gettin' the book signed for +telegrams. The Bishop was for askin' questions and sendin' in his +card; but I gets him by the sleeve and tows him right in. + +I hadn't made any wrong guess, either. There in the corner of the +state room, planted in a big wicker arm chair, with a jar of long +stemmed American beauts on one side, was Madam Brooklini. On the other +side, sittin' edgeways on a canvas stool and holdin' her left hand, was +Ferdy. + +I could make a guess as to how the thing had come around; Ferdy +breakin' from his shell at the house party, runnin' across Brooklini +under a soft light, and losin' his head the minute she begins cooin' +low notes to him. That's what she was doin' now, him gazin' up at her, +and her gazin' down at him. It was about the mushiest performance I +ever see. + +"Ahem!" says the Bishop, clearin' his throat and blushin' a lovely +maroon colour. "I--er--we did not intend to intrude; but----" + +Then it was up to Ferdy to show the red. He opens his mouth and gawps +at us for a whole minute before he can get out a word. "Why--why, +Bishop!" he pants. "What--how----" + +Before he has time to choke, or the Bishop can work up a case of +apoplexy, I jumps into the ring. "Excuse us doin' the goat act," says +I; "but the Bishop has got some word for you from the folks at home, +and he wants to get it off his mind." + +"Ah, friends of yours, Ferdy?" says Madam Brooklini, throwin' us about +four hundred dollars' worth of smile. + +There was nothin' for Ferdy to do then but pull himself together and +make us all acquainted. And say, I never shook hands with so much +jewelry all at once before! She has three or four bunches of sparks on +each finger, not to mention a thumb ring. Oh, there wa'n't any +mistakin' who skimmed the cream off the box office receipts after you'd +took a look at her! + +And for a straight front Venus she was the real maraschino. Course, +even if the complexion was true, you wouldn't put her down as one of +this spring's hatch; but for a broad, heavy weight girl she was the +fancy goods. And when she cuts loose with that eighteen-carat voice of +hers, and begins to roll them misbehavin' eyes, you forgot how the +chair was creakin' under her. The Bishop has all he can do to remember +why he was there; but he manages to get out that he'd like a few +minutes on the side with Ferdy. + +"If your message relates in any way to my return to Newport," says +Ferdy, stiffenin' up, "it is useless. I am not going there!" + +"But, my dear Ferdy----" begins the Bishop, when the lady cuts in. + +"That's right, Bishop," says she. "I do hope you can persuade the +silly boy to stop following me around and teasing me to marry him." + +"Oh, naughty!" says I under my breath. + +The Bishop just looks from one to the other, and then he braces up and +says, "Ferdinand, this is not possible, is it?" + +It was up to Ferdy again. He gives a squirm or two as he catches the +Bishop's eye, and the dew was beginnin' to break out on his noble brow, +when Ducky reaches over and gives his hand a playful little squeeze. +That was a nerve restorer. + +"Bishop," says he, "I must tell you that I am madly, hopelessly, in +love with this lady, and that I mean to make her my wife." + +"Isn't he the dearest booby you ever saw!" gurgles Madam Brooklini. +"He has been saying nothing but that for the last five days. And now +he says he is going to follow me across the ocean and keep on saying +it. But you must stop, Ferdy; really, you must." + +"Never!" says Ferdy, gettin' a good grip on the cut glass exhibit. + +"Such persistence!" says Ducky, shiftin' her searchlights from him to +us and back again. "And he knows I have said I would not marry again. +I mustn't. My managers don't like it. Why, every time I marry they +raise a most dreadful row. But what can I do? Ferdy insists, you see; +and if he keeps it up, I just know I shall have to take him. Please be +good, Ferdy!" + +Wouldn't that make you seasick? But the Bishop comes to the front like +he'd heard a call to man the lifeboat. + +"It may influence you somewhat," says he, "to learn that for nearly a +year Ferdinand has been secretly engaged to a very estimable young +woman." + +"I know," says she, tearin' off a little giggle. "Ferdy has told me +all about Alicia. What a wicked, deceitful wretch he is! isn't he? +Aren't you ashamed, Ferdy, to act so foolish over me?" + +If Ferdy was, he hid it well. All he seemed willin' to do was to sit +there, holdin' her hand and lookin' as soft as a custard pie, while the +Lady Williamsburg tells what a tough job she has dodgin' matrimony, on +account of her yieldin' disposition. I didn't know whether to hide my +face in my hat, or go out and lean over the rail. I guess the Bishop +wa'n't feelin' any too comfortable either; but he was there to do his +duty, so he makes one last stab. + +"Ferdinand," says he, "your mother asked me to say that----" + +"Tell her I was never so happy in my life," says Ferdy, pattin' a +broadside of solitaires and marquise rings. + +"Come on, Bishop," says I. "There's only one cure for a complaint of +that kind, and it looks like Ferdy was bound to take it." + +We was just startin' for the deck, when the door was blocked by a +steward luggin' in another sheaf of roses, and followed by a couple of +middle aged, jolly lookin' gents, smokin' cigars and marchin' arm in +arm. One was a tall, well built chap in a silk hat; the other was a +short, pussy, ruby beaked gent in French flannels and a Panama. + +"Hello, sweety!" says the tall one. + +"Peekaboo, dearie!" sings out the other. + +"Dick! Jimmy!" squeals Madam Brooklini, givin' a hand to each of 'em, +and leavin' Ferdy holdin' the air. "Oh, how delightfully thoughtful of +you!" + +"Tried to ring in old Grubby, too," says Dick; "but he couldn't get +away. He chipped in for the flowers, though." + +"Dear old Grubby!" says she. "Let's see, he was my third, wasn't he?" + +"Why, dearie!" says Dicky boy, "I was Number Three. Grubby was your +second." + +"Really!" says she. "But I do get you so mixed. Oh!" and then she +remembers Ferdy. "Ducky, dear," she goes on, "I do want you to know +these gentlemen--two of my former husbands." + +"Wha-a-at!" gasps Ferdy, his eyes buggin' out. + +I hears the Bishop groan and flop on a seat behind me. Honest, it was +straight! Dick and Jimmy was a couple of discards, old Grubby was +another, and inside of a minute blamed if she hadn't mentioned a +fourth, that was planted somewhere on the other side. Course, for a +convention there wouldn't have been a straight quorum; but there was +enough answerin' roll call to make it pass for a reunion, all right. + +And it was a peach while it lasted. The pair of has-beens didn't have +long to stay, one havin' to get back to Chicago and the other bein' +billed to start on a yachtin' trip. They'd just run over to say by-by; +and tell how they was plannin' an annual dinner, with the judges and +divorce lawyers for guests. Yes, yes, they was a jolly couple, them +two! All the Bishop could do was lay back and fan himself as he +listens, once in awhile whisperin' to himself, "My, my!" As for Ferdy, +he looked like he'd been hypnotised and was waitin' to be woke up. + +The pair was sayin' good-bye for the third and last time, when in +rushes a high strung, nervous young feller with a pencil behind his ear +and a pad in his hand. + +"Well, Larry, what is it now?" snaps out Madam Brooklini, doin' the +lightnin' change act with her voice. "I am engaged, you see." + +"Can't help it," says Larry. "Got fourteen reporters and eight +snapshot men waiting to do the sailing story for the morning editions. +Shall I bring 'em up?" + +"But I am entertaining two of my ex-husbands," says the lady, "and----" + +"Great!" says Larry. "We'll put 'em in the group. Who's the other?" + +"Oh, that's only Ferdy," says she. "I haven't married him yet." + +"Bully!" says Larry. "We can get half a column of space out of him +alone. He goes in the pictures too. We'll label him 'Next,' or +'Number Five Elect,' or something like that. Line 'em up outside, will +you?" + +"Oh, pshaw!" says Madam Brooklini. "What a nuisance these press agents +are! But Larry is so enterprising. Come, we'll make a splendid group, +the four of us. Come, Ferdy." + +"Reporters!" Ferdy lets it come out of him kind of hoarse and husky, +like he'd just seen a ghost. + +But I knew the view that he was gettin'; his name in the headlines, his +picture on the front page, and all the chappies at the club and the +whole Newport crowd chucklin' and nudgin' each other over the story of +how he was taggin' around after an op'ra singer that had a syndicate of +second hand husbands. + +"No, no, no!" says he. It was the only time I ever heard Ferdy come +anywhere near a yell, and I wouldn't have believed he could have done +it if I hadn't had my eyes on him as he jumps clear of the corner, +makes a flyin' break through the bunch, and streaks it down the deck +for the forward companionway. + +Me and the Bishop didn't wait to see the finish of that group picture. +We takes after Ferdy as fast as the Bishop's wind would let us, he +bein' afraid that Ferdy was up to somethin' desperate, like jumpin' off +the dock. All Ferdy does, though, is jump into a cab and drive for +home, us trailin' on behind. We was close enough at the end of the run +to see him bolt through the door; but Kupps tells us that Mr. Dobson +has left orders not to let a soul into the house. + +Early next mornin', though, the Bishop comes around and asks me to go +up while he tries again, and after we've stood on the steps for ten +minutes, waitin' for Kupps to take in a note, we're shown up to Ferdy's +bed room. He's in silk pajamas and bath robe, lookin' white and hollow +eyed. Every mornin' paper in town is scattered around the room, and +not one of 'em with less than a whole column about how Madam Brooklini +sailed for Europe. + +"Any of 'em got anything to say about Number Five?" says I. + +"Thank heaven, no!" groans Ferdy. "Bishop, what do you suppose poor +dear Alicia thinks of me, though?" + +"Why, my son," says the Bishop, his little eyes sparklin', "I suppose +she is thinking that it is 'most time for you to arrive in Newport, as +you promised." + +"Then she doesn't know what an ass I've been?" says Ferdy. "No one has +told her?" + +"Shorty, have you?" says the Bishop. + +And when Ferdy sees me grinnin', and it breaks on him that me and the +Bishop are the only ones that know about this dippy streak of his, he's +the thankfulest cuss you ever saw. Alicia? He could hardly get there +quick enough to suit him; and the knot's to be tied inside of the next +month. + +"Marryin's all right," says I to Ferdy, "so long's you don't let the +habit grow on you." + + + + +XVII + +WHEN SWIFTY WAS GOING SOME + +Say, I don't play myself for any human cheese tester, but I did think I +had Swifty Joe Gallagher all framed up long ago. Not that I ever made +any special study of Swifty; but knowin' him for as long as I have, and +havin' him helpin' me in the Studio, I got the notion that I was wise +to most of his curves. I've got both hands in the air now, though. + +Goin' back over the last few months too, I can see where I might have +got a line on him before. But, oh no! Nothin' could jar me out of +believin' he wouldn't ever run against the form sheet I'd made out. +The first glimmer I gets was when I finds Joe in the front office one +day, planted before the big lookin' glass, havin' a catch as catch can +with his hair. + +"Hully chee!" says he, dippin' one of my military brushes in the wash +basin. "That's fierce, ain't it, Shorty?" + +"If it's your nerve in helpin' yourself to my bureau knickknacks," says +I, "I agree with you." + +"Ah, can the croak!" says he. "I ain't eatin' the bristles off, am I!" + +"Oh, I'm not fussin'," says I; "but what you need to use on that thatch +is a currycomb and a lawn rake." + +"Ah, say!" says he, "I don't see as it's so much worse than others I +know of. It's all right when I can get it to lay down in the back. +How's that, now?" + +"Great!" says I. "Couldn't be better if you'd used fish glue." + +Maybe you never noticed how Swifty's top piece is finished off? He has +a mud coloured growth that's as soft as a shoe brush. It behaves well +enough when it's dry; but after he's got it good and wet it breaks up +into ridges that overlap, same as shingles on a roof. + +But then, you wouldn't be lookin' for any camel's hair finish on a nut +like Swifty's--not with that face. Course, he ain't to blame for the +undershot jaw, nor the way his ears lop, nor the width of his smile. +We don't all have gifts like that, thanks be! And it wa'n't on purpose +Swifty had his nose bent in. That come from not duckin' quick enough +when Gans swung with his right. + +So long as he kept in his class, though, and wa'n't called on to +understudy Kyrle Bellew, Swifty met all the specifications. If I was +wantin' a parlour ornament, I might shy some at Swifty's style of +beauty; but showin' bilious brokers how to handle the medicine ball is +a job that don't call for an exchange of photographs. He may have an +outline that looks like a map of a stone quarry, and perhaps his ways +are a little on the fritz, but Swifty's got good points that I couldn't +find bunched again if I was to hunt through a crowd. So, when I find +him worryin' over the set of his back hair, I gets interested. + +"What's the coiffure for, anyway?" says I. "Goin' to see the girl, eh?" + +Course, that was a josh. You can't look at Swifty and try to think of +him doin' the Romeo act without grinnin'. + +"Ahr, chee!" says he. + +Now, I've sprung that same jolly on him a good many times; but I never +see him work up a colour over it before. Still, the idea of him +gettin' kittenish was too much of a strain on the mind for me to follow +up. + +It was the same about his breakin' into song. He'd never done that, +either, until one mornin' I hears a noise comin' from the back room +that sounds like some one blowin' on a bottle. I steps over to the +door easy, and hanged if I didn't make out that it was Swifty takin' a +crack at something that might be, "Oh, how I love my Lulu!" + +"You must," says I, "if it makes you feel as bad as all that. Does +Lulu know it?" + +"Ahr, chee!" says he. + +Ever hear Swifty shoot that over his shoulder without turnin' his head? +Talk about your schools of expression! None of 'em could teach anyone +to put as much into two words as Swifty does into them. They're a +whole vocabulary, the way he uses 'em. + +"Was you tryin' to sing," says I, "or just givin' an imitation of a +steamboat siren on a foggy night?" + +But all I could get out of Swifty was another "Ahr, chee!" He was too +happy and satisfied to join in any debate, and inside of ten minutes +he's at it again; so I lets him spiel away. + +"Well," thinks I, "I'm glad my joy don't have any such effect on me as +that. I s'pose I can stand it, if he can." + +It wa'n't more'n two nights later that I gets another shock. I was +feelin' a little nervous, to begin with, for I'd billed myself to do a +stunt I don't often tackle. It was nothin' else than pilotin' a fluff +delegation to some art studio doin's. Sounds like a Percy job, don't +it? But it was somethin' put up to me in a way I couldn't dodge. + +Maybe you remember me tellin' you awhile back about Cornelia Ann +Belter? She was the Minnekeegan girl that had a room on the top floor +over the Physical Culture Studio, and was makin' a stab at the +sculpture game--the one that we got out to Rockywold as a ringer in the +snow carvin' contest. Got her placed now? + +Well, you know how that little trick of makin' a snow angel brought her +in orders from Mrs. Purdy Pell, and Sadie, and the rest? And she +didn't do a thing but make good, either. I hadn't seen her since she +quit the building; but I'd heard how she was doin' fine, and here the +other day I gets a card sayin' she'd be pleased to have my company on a +Wednesday night at half after eight, givin' an address on Fifth avenue. + +"Corny must be carvin' the cantaloup," thinks I, and then forgets all +about it until Sadie holds me up and wants to know if I'm goin'. + +"Nix," says I. "Them art studio stunts is over my head." + +"Oh, pshaw!" says Sadie. "How long since you have been afraid of Miss +Belter? Didn't you and I help her to get her start? She'll feel real +badly if you don't come." + +"She'll get over that," says I. + +"But Mrs. Pell and I will have to go alone if you don't come with us," +says she. "Mr. Pell is out of town, and Pinckney is too busy with +those twins and that Western girl of his. You've got to come, Shorty." + +"That settles it," says I. "Why didn't you say so first off?" + +So that was what I was doin' at quarter of eight that night, in my open +face vest and dinky little tuxedo, hustlin' along 42d-st., wonderin' if +the folks took me for a head waiter late to his job. You see, after I +gets all ragged out I finds I've left my patent leathers at the Studio. +Swifty has said he was goin' to take the night off too, so I'm some +surprised to see the front office all lit up like there was a ball +goin' on up there. I takes the steps three at a time, expectin' to +find a couple of yeggs movin' out the safe; but when I throws the door +open what should I see, planted in front of the mirror, but Swifty Joe. + +Not that I was sure it was him till I'd had a second look. It was +Swifty's face, and Swifty's hair, but the costume was a philopena. It +would have tickled a song and dance artist to death. Anywhere off'n +the variety stage, unless it was at a Fourth Ward chowder party, it +would have drawn a crowd. Perhaps you can throw up a view of a +pin-head check in brown and white, blocked off into four-inch squares +with red and green lines; a double breasted coat with scalloped cuffs +on the sleeves, and silk faced lapels; a pink and white shirt striped +like an awnin'; a spotted butterfly tie; yellow shoes in the latest +oleomargarin tint; and a caffy-o-lay bean pot derby with a half-inch +brim to finish off the picture. It was a sizzler, all right. + +For a minute I stands there with my mouth open and my eyes bugged, +takin' in the details. If I could, I would have skipped without sayin' +a word, for I see I'd butted in on somethin' that was sacred and +secret. But Swifty's heard me come in, and he's turned around waitin' +for me to give a verdict. Not wantin' to hurt his feelin's, I has to +go careful. + +"Swifty," says I, "is that you?" + +He only grins kind of foolish, sticks his chin out, and saws his neck +against his high collar, like a cow usin' a scratchin' post. + +"Blamed if I didn't take you for Henry Dixey, first shot," says I, +walkin' around and gettin' a new angle. "Gee! but that's a swell +outfit!" + +"Think so?" says he. "Will it make 'em sit up?" + +"Will it!" says I. "Why, you'll have 'em on their toes." + +I didn't know how far I could go on that line without givin' him a +grouch; but he seems to like it, so I tears off some more of the same. + +"Swifty," says I, "you've got a bunch of tiger lilies lookin' like a +faded tea rose. You've got a get-up there that would win out at a +Cakewalk, and if you'll take it over to Third-ave. Sunday afternoon +you'll be the best bet on the board." + +"Honest?" says he, grinnin' way back to his ears. "I was after +somethin' a little fancy, I'll own up." + +"Well, you got it," says I. "Where'd you have it built?" + +"Over the bridge," says he. + +Say, it's a wonder some of them South Brooklyn cloth carpenters don't +get the blind staggers, turnin' out clothes like that; ain't it? + +"Must be some special occasion?" says I. + +"D'jer think I'd be blowin' myself like this if it wa'n't?" says he. +"You bet, it's extra special." + +"With a skirt in the background?" says I. + +"Uh-huh," says he, springin' another grin. + +"Naughty, naughty!" says I. + +"Ahr, say," says he, tryin' to look peevish, "you oughter know better'n +that! You never heard of me chasin' the Lizzies yet, did you? This is +a real lady,--nice and classy, see?" + +"Some one on Fifth-ave.?" says I, unwindin' a little string. But he +whirls round like I'd jabbed him with a pin. + +"Who tipped you off to that?" says he. + +"Guessed it by the clothes," says I. + +That simmers him down, and I could see he wanted to be confidential the +worst way. He wouldn't let go of her name; but I gathers it's some one +he's known for quite a spell, and that she's sent him a special invite +for this evenin'. + +"Asks me to call around, see?" says he. "Now, I put it up to you, +Shorty, don't that look like I got some standin' with her?" + +"She must think pretty well of you, that's a fact," says I, "and I +judge that you're willin' to be her honey boy. Ain't got the ring in +your vest pocket, have you?" + +"Maybe that ain't so much of a joke as you think," says he, settin' the +bean pod lid a little more on one side. + +"Z-z-z-ipp!" says I. "That's goin' some! Well, well, but you are a +cute one, Swifty. Why, I never suspicioned such a thing. Luck to you, +my lad, luck to you!" and I pats him on the back. "I don't know what +chances you had before; but in that rig you can't lose." + +"I guess it helps," says he, twistin' his neck to get a back view. + +He was puttin' on the last touches when I left. Course, I was some +stunned, specially by the Fifth-ave. part of it. But then, it's a long +street, and it's gettin' so now that all kinds lives on it. + +I was a little behind sched. when I gets to Sherry's, where I was to +pick up Sadie and Mrs. Purdy Pell; but at that it was ten or fifteen +minutes before they gets the tourin' car called up and we're all tucked +away inside. It don't take us long to cover the distance, though, and +at twenty to nine we hauls up at Miss Belter's number. I was just +goin' to pile out when I gets a glimpse of a pair of bright yellow +shoes carryin' a human checker board. + +"S-s-s-sh!" says I to the ladies. "Wait up a second till we see where +he goes." + +"Why, who is it?" says Sadie. + +"Swifty Joe," says I. "You might not think it from the rainbow +uniform, but it's him. That's the way he dresses the part when he +starts out to kneel to his lady love." + +"Really!" says Mrs. Pell. "Is he going to do that?" + +"Got it straight from him," says I. "There! he's worked his courage +up. Now he takes the plunge." + +"Why!" says Sadie, "that is Miss Belter's number he's going into." + +"She don't live on all five floors, does she?" says I. + +"No; but it's odd, just the same," says she. + +I thought so myself; so I gives 'em the whole story of how I come to +know about what he was up to. By that time he was climbing the stairs, +and as soon as we finds the right door I forgets all about Swifty in +sizin' up Cornelia Ann. + +Say, what a difference a little of the right kind of dry goods will +make in a girl, won't it? The last I saw of Cornie she was wearin' a +skirt that sagged in the back, a punky lid that might have come off the +top of an ash can, and shoes that had run over at the heel. + +But prosperity had sure blown her way, and she'd bought a wardrobe to +suit the times. Not that she'd gone and loaded herself down like she +was a window display. It was just a cucumber green sort of cheese +cloth that floated around her, and there wa'n't a frill on it except +some silvery braid where the square hole had been chopped out to let +her head and part of her shoulders through. But at that it didn't need +any Paris tag. + +And say, I'd always had an idea that Cornelia Ann was rated about third +row back. Seein' the way she showed up there, though, with all that +cinnamon coloured hair of hers piled on top of her head, and her big +eyes glistenin', I had to revise the frame up. It didn't take me long +to find out she'd shook the shrinkin' violet game, too. She steps up +and gives us the glad hand and the gurgly jolly just as if she'd been +doin' it all her life. + +It wa'n't any cheap hang-out that Cornie has tacked her name plate on, +either. There was expensive rugs on the floor, and brass lamps hangin' +from the ceilin', and pieces of tin armor hung around on the walls, +with nary a sign of an oil stove or a foldin' bed. + +A lot of folks was already on the ground. They was swells too, and +they was floatin' around so thick that it was two or three minutes +before I gets a view of what was sittin' under the big yellow sik lamp +shade in the corner. Say, who do you guess? Swifty Joe! Honest, for +a minute I thought I must be havin' a nerve spasm and seein' things +that wa'n't so. But it was him, all right; big as life, and lookin' as +prominent as a soap ad. on the back cover of a magazine. + +There was plenty of shady places in the room that he might have picked, +but he has hunted out the bright spot. He's sittin' on one of these +funny cross legged Roman stools, with his toes turned in, and them +grid-iron pants pulled up to show about five inches of MacGregor plaid +socks. And he has a satisfied look on his face that I couldn't account +for no way. + +Course, I thinks right off that he's broke into the wrong ranch and is +waitin' for some one to come and show him the way out. And then, all +of a sudden, I begins to remember things. You know, it was Swifty that +Cornelia Ann used to get to pose for her when she had the top floor +back in our building. She made an embossed clay picture of him that +Joe used to gaze at by the hour. And once he showed me her photo that +she'd given him. Then there was the special invite he'd been tellin' +me about. Not bein' used to gettin' such things, he'd mistook that +card to her studio openin' as a sort of private billy ducks, and he'd +built up a dream about him and her havin' a hand-holdin' session all to +themselves. + +"Great cats!" thinks I. "Can it be Cornelia Ann he's gone on?" + +Well, all you had to do to get the answer was to watch Swifty follow +her around with his eyes. You'd thought, findin' himself in a bunch of +top-notchers like that, and rigged out the way he was, he'd been +feelin' like a green strawb'ry in the bottom of the basket. But +nothin' of that kind had leaked through his thick skull. Cornie was +there, and he was there, dressed accordin' to his own designs, and he +was contented and happy as a turtle on a log, believin' the rest of us +had only butted in. + +I was feelin' all cut up over his break, and tryin' to guess how +Cornelia was standin' it, when she floats up to me and says: + +"Wasn't it sweet of Mr. Gallagher to come? Have you seen him?" + +"Seen him!" says I. "You don't notice any bandage over my eyes, do +you? Notice the get up. Why, he looks like a section of a billboard." + +"Oh, I don't mind his clothes a bit," says she. "I think he's real +picturesque. Besides, I haven't forgotten that he used to pose for me +when hiring models meant going without meals. I wish you would see +that he doesn't get lonesome before I have a chance to speak to him +again." + +"He don't look like he needed any chirkin' up," says I; "but I'll go +give him the howdy." + +So I trots over to the yellow shade and ranges myself up in front of +him. "You might's well own up, Swifty," says I. "Is Cornie the one?" + +"Uh-huh," says he. + +"Told her about it yet?" says I. + +"Ahr, chee!" says he. "Give a guy a chance." + +"Sure," says I. "But go slow, Joey, go slow." + +I don't know how it happened, for all I told about it was Sadie and +Mrs. Purdy Pell; but it wa'n't long before everyone in the joint was +next to Swifty, and was pipin' him off. They all has to be introduced +and make a try at gettin' him to talk. For awhile he has the time of +his life. Mostly he just grins; but now and then he throws in an "Ahr, +chee!" that knocks 'em silly. + +The only one that don't fall for what's up is Cornelia Ann. She gets +him to help her pass out the teacups and the cake, and tells everyone +about how Swifty helped her out on the model business when she was +livin' on pickled pigs' feet and crackers. Fin'lly folks begins to dig +out their wraps and come up to tell her how they'd had a bully time. +But Joe never makes a move. + +Sadie and Mrs. Pell wa'n't in any hurry either, and the first thing I +knows there's only the five of us left. I see Sadie lookin' from Joe +to Cornie, and then passin' Mrs. Pell the smile. Cornelia Ann sees it +too, and she has a synopsis of the precedin' chapters all in a minute. +But she don't get flustered a bit. She sails over to the coat room, +gets Swifty's lid, and comes luggin' it out. + +"I'm awfully glad you came, Mr. Gallagher," says she, handin' out the +bean pot, "and I hope to see you again when I have another +reception--next year." + +"Eh?" says Swifty, like he was wakin' up from a dream. "Next year! +Why, I thought that--" + +"Yes, but you shouldn't," says she. "Good night." + +Then he sees the hat, and a light breaks. He grabs the lid and makes a +dash for the door. + +"Isn't he odd?" says Cornelia. + +Well say, I didn't know whether I'd get word that night that Swifty had +jumped off the bridge, or had gone back to the fusel oil. He didn't do +either one, though; but when he shows up at the Studio next mornin' he +was wearin' his old clothes, and his face looks like he was foreman of +a lemon grove. + +"Ah, brace up, Swifty," says I. "There's others." + +He just shakes his head and sighs, and goes off into a corner as if he +wanted to die slow and lingerin'. + +Then Saturday afternoon, when it turns off so warm and we begins the +noon shut down, I thinks I'll take a little run down to Coney and hear +the frankfurters bark. I was watchin' 'em load the boys and girls into +a roller coaster, when along comes a car that has something familiar in +it. Here's Swifty, wearin' his brass band suit, a cigar stickin' out +of one corner of his mouth, and an arm around a fluffy haired Flossie +girl that was chewin' gum and wearin' a fruit basket hat. They was +lookin' happy. + +"Say, Swifty," I sings out, "don't forget about Cornie." + +"Ahr, chee!" says he, and off they goes down the chute for another +ten-cent ride. + +But say, I'm glad all them South Brooklyn art clothes ain't goin' to be +wasted. + + + + +XVIII + +PLAYING WILBUR TO SHOW + +It's all right. You can put the Teddy sign on anything you read in the +papers about matrimony's bein' a lost art, and collectin' affinities +bein' the latest fad; for the plain, straight, old, +love-honour-and-cherish business is still in the ring. I have +Pinckney's word for it, and Pinckney ought to know. Oh, yes, he's an +authority now. Sure, it was Miss Gerty, the twin tamer. And say, what +do you suppose they did with that gift pair of terrors, Jack and Jill, +while they was makin' the weddin' tour? Took 'em along. Honest, they +travels for ten weeks with two kids, five trunks, and a couple of maids. + +"You don't look like no honeymoon couple," says I, when I meets 'em in +Jersey City. "I'd take you for an explorin' party." + +"We are," says Pinckney, grinnin'. "We've been explorin' the western +part of the United States. We have discovered Colorado Springs, the +Yosemite, and a lot more very interesting places, all over again." + +"You'll be makin' a new map, I expect," says I. + +"It would be new to most New Yorkers," says he. + +And I've been tryin' ever since to figure out whether or no that's a +knock. Now and then I has a suspicion that Pinckney's acquired some +new bug since he's been out through the alfalfa belt; but maybe his +idea of the West's bein' such a great place only comes from the fact +that Gerty was produced there. Perhaps it's all he says too; but I +notice he seems mighty glad to get back to Main-st., N. Y. You'd +thought so if you'd seen the way he trails me around over town the +first day after he lands. We was on the go from noon until one A. M., +and his cab bill must have split a twenty up fine. + +What tickles me, though, is that he's the same old Pinckney, only more +so. Bein' married don't seem to weigh no heavier on his mind than +joinin' another club. So, instead of me losin' track of him +altogether, he shows up here at the Studio oftener than before. And +that's how it was he happens to be on hand when this overgrown party +from the ham orchard blows in. + +Just at the minute, though, Pinckney was back in the dressin' room, +climbin' into his frock coat after our little half-hour session on the +mat; so Swifty Joe and me was the reception committee. + +As the door opens I looks up to see about seven foot of cinnamon brown +plaid cloth,--a little the homeliest stuff I ever see used for +clothes,--a red and green necktie, a face the colour of a ripe tomato, +and one of these buckskin tinted felt hats on top of that. Measurin' +from the peak of the Stetson to the heels of his No. 14 Cinderellas, he +must have been some under ninety inches, but not much. And he has all +the grace of a water tower. Whoever tried to build that suit for him +must have got desperate and cut it out with their eyes shut; for it fit +him only in spots, and them not very near together. But what can you +do with a pair of knock knees and shoulders that slope like a hip roof? + +Not expectin' any freaks that day, and bein' too stunned to make any +crack on our own hook, me and Swifty does the silent gawp, and waits to +see if it can talk. For a minute he looks like he can't. He just +stands here with his mouth half open, grinnin' kind of sheepish and +good natured, as if we could tell what he wanted just by his looks. +Fin'lly I breaks the spell. + +"Hello, Sport," says I. "If you see any dust on top of that +chandelier, don't mention it." + +He don't make any reply to that, just grins a little wider; so I gives +him a new deal. + +"You'll find Huber's museum down on 14th-st.," says I. "Or have you +got a Bowery engagement?" + +This seems to twist him up still more; but it pulls the cork. "Excuse +me, friends," says he; "but I'm tryin' to round up an eatin' house that +used to be hereabouts." + +"Eatin' house?" says I. "If you mean the fried egg parlour that was on +the ground floor, that went out of business months ago. But there's +lots more just as good around on Sixth-ave., and some that carry stock +enough to fill you up part way, I guess." + +"I wa'n't lookin' to grub up just yet," says he. "I was huntin' +for--for some one that worked there." + +And say, you wouldn't have thought anyone with a natural sunset colour +like that could lay on a blush. But he does, and it's like throwin' +the red calcium on a brick wall. + +"Oh, tush, tush!" says I. "You don't mean to tell me a man of your +size is trailin' some Lizzie Maud?" + +He cants his head on one side, pulls out a blue silk handkerchief, and +begins to wind it around his fore finger, like a bashful kid that's +been caught passin' a note in school. + +"Her--her name's Zylphina," says he,--"Zylphina Beck." + +"Gee!" says I. "Sounds like a new kind of music box. No relation, I +hope?" + +"Not yet," says he, swingin' his shoulders; "but we've swapped rings." + +"Of all the cut-ups!" says I. "And just what part of the plowed fields +do you and Zylphina hail from?" + +"Why, I'm from Hoxie," says he, as though that told the whole story. + +"Do tell!" says I. "Is that a flag station or just a four corners? +Somewhere in Ohio, ain't it?" + +"Sheridan County, Kansas," says he. + +"Well, well!" says I. "Now I can account for your size. Have to grow +tall out there, don't you, so's not to get lost in the wheat patch?" + +Say, for a josh consumer, he was the easiest ever. All he does is +stand there and grin, like he was the weak end of a variety team. But +it seems a shame to crowd a willin' performer; so I was just tellin' +him he'd better go out and hunt up a city directory in some drug store, +when Pinckney shows up, lookin' interested. + +"There!" says I. "Here's a man now that'll lead you straight to +Zylphina in no time. Pinckney, let me make you acquainted with +Mister--er----" + +"Cobb," says the Hoxie gent, "Wilbur Cobb." + +"From out West," I puts in, givin' Pinckney the nudge. "He's yours." + +It ain't often I has a chance to unload anything like that on Pinckney, +so I rubs it in. The thoughts of him towin' around town a human +extension like this Wilbur strikes Swifty Joe so hard that he most has +a chokin' fit. + +But you never know what turn Pinckney's goin' to give to a jolly. He +don't even crack a smile, but reaches up and hands Mr. Cobb the cordial +shake, just as though he'd been a pattern sized gent dressed accordin' +to the new fall styles. + +"Ah!" says Pinckney. "I'm very glad to meet anyone from the West. +What State, Mr. Cobb?" + +And inside of two minutes he's gettin' all the details of this Zylphina +hunt, from the ground up, includin' an outline of Wilbur's past life. + +Seems that Wilbur'd got his first start in Maine; but 'way back before +he could remember much his folks had moved to Kansas on a homestead. +Then, when Wilbur tossled out, he takes up a quarter section near +Hoxie, and goes to corn farmin' for himself, raisin' a few hogs as a +side line. Barrin' bein' caught in a cyclone or two, and gettin' +elected junior kazook of the Sheridan County Grange, nothin' much +happened to Wilbur, until one day he took a car ride as far west as +Colby Junction. + +That's where he meets up with Zylphina. She was jugglin' stop over +rations at the railroad lunch counter. Men must have been mighty +scarce around the junction, or else she wants the most she can get for +the money; for, as she passes Wilbur a hunk of petrified pie and draws +him one muddy, with two lumps on the saucer, she throws in a smile that +makes him feel like he'd stepped on a live third rail. + +Accordin' to his tell, he must have hung around that counter all day, +eatin' through the pie list from top to bottom and back again, until +it's a wonder his system ever got over the shock. But Zylphina keeps +tollin' him on with googoo eyes and giggles, sayin' how it does her +good to see a man with a nice, hearty appetite, and before it come time +for him to take the night train back they'd got real well acquainted. +He finds out her first name, and how she's been a whole orphan since +she was goin' on ten. + +After that Wilbur makes the trip to Colby Junction reg'lar every +Sunday, and they'd got to the point of talkin' about settin' the day +when she was to become Mrs. Cobb, when Zylphina gets word that an aunt +of hers that kept a boardin' house in Fall River, Massachusetts, wants +her to come on East right away. Aunty has some kind of heart trouble +that may finish her any minute, and, as Zylphina was the nearest +relation she had, there was a show of her bein' heiress to the whole +joint. + +Course, Zylphina thinks she ought to tear herself loose from the pie +counter; but before she quits the junction her and Wilbur takes one +last buggy ride, with the reins wound around the whip socket most of +the way. She weeps on Wilbur's shirt front, and says no matter how far +off she is, or how long she has to wait for him to come, she'll always +be his'n on demand. And Wilbur says that just as soon as he can make +the corn and hog vineyard hump itself a little more, he'll come. + +So Zylphina packs a shoe box full of fried chicken, blows two months' +wages into a yard of yellow railroad ticket, and starts toward the +cotton mills. It's a couple of months before Wilbur gets any letter, +and then it turns out to be a hard luck tale, at that. Zylphina has +found out what a lime tastes like. She's discovered that the Fall +River aunt hasn't anything more the matter with her heart than the +average landlady, and that what she's fell heiress to is only a chance +to work eighteen hours a day for her board. So she's disinherited +herself and is about to make a bold jump for New York, which she liked +the looks of as she came through, and she'll write more later on. + +It was later--about six months. Zylphina says she's happy, and hopes +Wilbur is the same. She's got a real elegant job as cashier in a +high-toned, twenty-five cent, reg'lar-meal establishment, and all in +the world she has to do is to sit behind a wire screen and make change. +It's different from wearin' an apron, and the gents what takes their +food there steady treats her like a perfect lady. New York is a big +place; but she's getting so she knows her way around quite well now, +and it would seem funny to go back to a little one-horse burg like +Colby. + +And that's all. Nothin' about her bein' Wilbur's on demand, or +anything of that kind. Course, it's an antique old yarn; but it was +all fresh to Wilbur. Not bein' much of a letter writer, he keeps on +feedin' the hogs punctual, and hoein' the corn, and waitin' for more +news. But there's nothin' doin'. + +"Then," says he, "I got to thinkin' and thinkin', and this fall, being +as how I was coming as far east as Chicago on a shipper's pass, I +reckons I'd better keep right on here, hunt Zylphina up, and take her +back with me." + +The way he tells it was real earnest, and at some points them whey +coloured eyes of his moistens up good an' dewy; but he finishes strong +and smilin'. You wouldn't guess, though, that any corn fed romance +like that would stir up such a blood as Pinckney? A few months back he +wouldn't have listened farther'n the preamble; but now he couldn't have +been more interested if this was a case of Romeo Astor and Juliet +Dupeyster. + +"Shorty," says he, "can't we do something to help Mr. Cobb find this +young lady?" + +"Do you mean it," says I, "or are you battin' up a josh?" + +He means it, all right. He spiels off a lot of gush about the joy of +unitin' two lovin' hearts that has got strayed; so I asks Wilbur if he +can furnish any description of Zylphina. Sure, he can. He digs up a +leather wallet from his inside pocket and hands out a tintype of Miss +Beck, one of these portraits framed in pale pink paper, taken by a +wagon artist that had wandered out to the junction. + +Judgin' by the picture, Zylphina must have been a sure enough +prairie-rose. She's wearin' her hair loose over her shoulders, and a +genuine Shy Ann hat, one of those ten-inch brims with the front pinned +back. The pug nose and the big mouth wa'n't just after the Venus +model; but it's likely she looked good to Wilbur. I takes one squint +and hands it back. + +"Nix, never!" says I. "I've seen lots of fairies on 42d-st., but none +like that. Put it back over your heart, Wilbur, and try an ad. in the +lost column." + +But Pinckney ain't willin' to give up so easy. He says how Mr. Cobb +has come more'n a thousand miles on this tender mission, and it's up to +us to do our best towards helping him along. I couldn't see just where +we was let into this affair of Wilbur's; but as Pinckney's so set on +it, I begins battin' my head for a way of takin' up the trail. + +And it's wonderful what sleuth work you can do just by usin' the 'phone +liberal. First I calls up the agent of the buildin', and finds that +the meal fact'ry has moved over to Eighth-ave. Then I gets that number +and brings Zylphina's old boss to the wire. Sure, he remembers Miss +Beck. No, she ain't with him now. He thinks she took a course in +manicurin', and one of the girls says she heard of her doin' the hand +holdin' act in an apartment hotel on West 35th-st. After three tries +we has Zylphina herself on the 'phone. + +"Guess who's here," says I. + +"That you, Roland?" says she. + +"Aw, pickles!" says I. "Set the calendar back a year or so, and then +come again. Ever hear of Wilbur, from Hoxie, Kan.?" + +Whether it was a squeal or a snicker, I couldn't make out; but she was +on. As I couldn't drag Wilbur up to the receiver, I has to carry +through the talk myself, and I makes a date for him to meet her in +front of the hotel at six-thirty that evenin', when the day shift of +nail polishers goes off duty. + +"Does that suit, Wilbur?" says I. + +Does it? You never saw so much pure joy spread over a single +countenance as what he flashes up. He gives me a grip I can feel yet, +and the grin that opens his face was one of these reg'lar ear +connectors. Pinckney was tickled too, and it's all I can do to get him +off one side where I can whisper confidential. + +"Maybe it ain't struck you yet," says I, "that Zylphina's likely to +have changed some in her ideas as to what a honey boy looks like. Now +Wilbur's all right in his way; but ain't he a little rugged to spring +on a lady manicure that hasn't seen him for some time?" + +And when Pinckney comes to take a close view, he agrees that Mr. Cobb +is a trifle fuzzy. "But we can spruce him up," says Pinckney. "There +are four hours to do it in." + +"Four weeks would be better," says I; "it's considerable of a contract." + +That don't bother Pinckney any. He's got nothing else on hand for the +afternoon, and he can't plan any better sport than improvin' Wilbur's +looks so Zylphina's first impression'll be a good one. + +He begins by making Wilbur peel the cinnamon brown costume, drapin' him +in a couple of bath robes, while Swifty takes the suit out to one of +these pants-pressed-while you wait places. When it comes back with +creases in the legs, he hustles Wilbur into a cab and starts for a +barber shop. + +Say, I don't suppose Cobb'll ever know it; but if he'd been huntin' for +expert help along that line, he couldn't have tumbled into better hands +than he did when Pinckney gets interested in his case. When they +floats in again, along about six o'clock, I hardly knows Wilbur for the +same party. He's wearin' a long black ulster that covers up most of +the plaid nightmare; he's shook the woolly lid for a fall block derby, +he's had his face scraped and powdered, and his neck ringlets trimmed +up; and he even sports a pair of yellow kids and a silver headed stick. + +"Gosh!" says I. "Looks like you'd run him through a finishing machine. +Why, he'll have Zylphina after him with a net." + +"Yes," says Pinckney. "I fancy he'll do now." + +As for Wilbur, he only looks good natured and happy. Course, Pinckney +wants to go along with him, to see that it all turns out right; and he +counts me in too, so off we starts. I was a little curious to get a +glimpse of Zylphina myself, and watch how stunned she'd be. For we has +it all framed up how she'll act. Havin' seen the tintype, I can't get +it out of my head that she's still wearin' her hair loose and looking +like M'liss in the first act. + +"Hope she'll be on time," says I, as we turns the corner. + +There was more or less folks goin' and comin' from the ladies' +entrance; but no girl like the one we was lookin' for. So we fetches +up in a bunch opposite the door and prepares to wait. We hadn't stood +there a minute, before there comes a squeal from behind, and some one +says: + +"Why, Wilbur Cobb! Is that you?" + +And what do you guess shows up? There at the curb is a big, open +tourin' car,--one of the opulent, shiny kind,--with a slick looking +shuffer in front, and, standin' up in the tonneau, a tart little lady +wearin' Broadway clothes that was right up to the minute, hair done +into breakfast rolls behind, and a long pink veil streamin' down her +back. Only by the pug nose and the mouth could I guess that it might +be Zylphina. And it was. + +There wa'n't any gettin' away from the fact that she was a little +jarred at seein' Wilbur lookin' so cute; but that was nothin' to the +jolt she handed us. Mr. Cobb, he just opens his mouth and gazes at her +like she was some sort of an exhibit. And Pinckney, who'd been +expectin' something in a dollar-thirty-nine shirtwaist and a sagged +skirt, is down and out. It didn't take me more'n a minute to see that +if Zylphina has got to the stage where she wears pony jackets and rides +in expensive bubbles, our little pie counter romance is headed for the +ash can. + +"Stung in both eyes!" says I under my breath, and falls back. + +"Well, well!" says Zylphina, holdin' out three fingers. "When did you +hit Broadway, Wilbur?" + +It was all up to Cobb then. He drifts up to the tonneau and gathers in +the fingers dazed like, as if he was walkin' in his sleep; but he gets +out somethin' about bein' mighty glad to see her again. + +Zylphina sizes him up kind of curious, and smiles. "You must let me +introduce you to my friend," says she. "Roland, this is Mr. Cobb, from +Kansas." + +Mr. Shuffer grins too, as he swaps grips with Wilbur. It was a great +joke. + +"He's awfully nice to me, Roland is," says Zylphina, with a giggle. +"And ain't this a swell car, though? Roland takes me to my boardin' +house in it 'most every night. But how are the corn and hogs doin', +Wilbur?" + +Say, there was a topic Wilbur was up on. He throws her a grateful grin +and proceeds to unlimber his conversation works. He tells Zylphina how +many acres he put into corn last spring, how much it shucked to the +acre, and how many head of hogs he has just sent to the ham and lard +lab'ratory. That brand of talk sounds kind of foolish there under the +arc lights; but Zylphina pricks up her ears. + +"Ten carloads of hogs!" says she. "Is that a kid, or are you just +havin' a dream?" + +"I cal'late it'll be twenty next fall," says he, fishin' for somethin' +in his pocket. "Here's the packing house receipts for the ten, anyway." + +"Let's see," says she, and by the way she skins her eye over them +documents you could tell that Zylphina'd seen the like before. Also +she was somethin' of a ready reckoner. + +"Oh, Wilbur!" says she, makin' a flyin' leap and landin' with her arms +around his neck. "I'm yours, Wilbur, I'm yours!" + +And Wilbur, he gathers her in. + +"Roland," says I, steppin' up to the shuffer, "you can crank up. +Hoxie's won out in the tenth." + + + + +XIX + +AT HOME WITH THE DILLONS + +I was expectin' to put in a couple of days doin' the sad and lonely, +Sadie havin' made a date to run out to Rocky wold for the week end; but +Friday night when I'm let off at the seventh floor of the +Perzazzer--and say, no matter how many flights up home is, there's no +place like it--who should I see but Sadie, just takin' off her hat. +Across by the window is one of the chamber maids, leanin' up against +the casing and snifflin' into the expensive draperies. + +"Well, well!" says I. "Is this a rehearsal for a Hank Ibsen sprinkler +scene, or is it a case of missin' jewels?" + +"It's nothing of the sort, Shorty," says Sadie, giving me the shut-off +signal. Then she turns to the girl with a "There, there, Nora! +Everything will be all right. And I will be around Sunday afternoon. +Run along now, and don't worry." With that she leads Nora out to the +door and sends her away with a shoulder pat. + +"Who's been getting friendly with the help now; eh, Sadie?" says I. +"And what's the woe about?" + +Course she begins at the wrong end, and throws in a lot of details that +only lumbers up the record; but after she's been talkin' for half an +hour--and Sadie can separate herself from a lot of language in that +time--I gets a good workin' outline of this domestic tragedy that has +left damp spots on our window curtains. + +It ain't near so harrowin', though, as you might suspect. Seems that +Nora has the weepin' habit. That's how Sadie come to remember havin' +seen her before. Also it counts for Nora's shiftin' so often. Folks +like Mrs. Purdy Pell and the Twombley-Cranes can't keep a girl around +that's liable to weep into the soup or on the card tray. If it wa'n't +for that, Nora'd been all right; for she's a neat lookin' girl, handy +and willin',--one of these slim, rosy cheeked, black haired, North of +Ireland kind, that can get big wages, when they have the sense, which +ain't often. + +Well, she'd changed around until she lands here in the fresh linen +department, workin' reg'lar twelve-hour shifts, one afternoon off a +week, and a four-by-six room up under the copper roof, with all the +chance in the world to weep and no one to pay any attention to her, +until Sadie catches her at it. Trust Sadie! + +When she finds Nora leakin' her troubles out over an armful of clean +towels, she drags her in here and asks for the awful facts. Then comes +the fam'ly history of the Dillons, beginnin' on the old rent at +Ballyshannon and endin' in a five-room flat on Double Fifth-ave. When +she comes to mentionin' Larry Dillon, I pricks up my ears. + +"What! Not the old flannel mouth that's chopped tickets at the 33d-st. +station ever since the L was built?" says I. + +"He's been discharged," says Sadie. "Did you know him?" + +Did I know Larry? Could anyone live in this burg as long as I have, +without gettin' acquainted with that Old Country face, or learnin' by +heart his "Ha-a-a-ar-lem thr-r-rain! Ha-a-a-ar-lem!"? There's other +old timers that has the brogue, but never a one could touch Larry. A +purple faced, grumpy old pirate, with a disposition as cheerful as a +man waitin' his turn at the dentist's, and a heart as big as a ham, he +couldn't speak a civil word if he tried; but he was always ready to +hand over half his lunch to any whimperin' newsy that came along, and +he's lent out more nickels that he'll ever see again. + +But about the other Dillons, I got my first news from Sadie. There was +four of 'em, besides Nora. One was Tom, who had a fine steady job, +drivin' a coal cart for the Consolidated. A credit to the family, Tom +was; havin' a wife and six kids of his own, besides votin' the straight +Tammany ticket since he was nineteen. Next there was Maggie, whose man +was on the stage,--shiftin' scenery. Then there was Kate, the lady +sales person, who lived with the old folks. And last there was +Aloysius, the stray; and wherever he was, Heaven help him! for he was +no use whatever. + +"I take it that 'Loyshy's the brunette Southdown of the Dillon flock," +says I. "What particular brand of cussedness does he make a specialty +of?" + +Sadie says that Nora hadn't gone much into particulars, except that +when last heard of he'd joined the Salvationists, which had left old +Larry frothin' at the mouth. He'd threatened to break Aloysius into +two pieces on sight, and he'd put the ban on speakin' his name around +the house. + +"Followin' the tambourine!" says I. "That's a queer stunt for a +Dillon. The weeps was for him, then?" + +They wa'n't. 'Loyshy's disappearin' act had been done two or three +years back. The tears was all on account of the fortieth weddin' +anniversary of the Dillons, fallin' as it did just a week after Larry +had the spell of rheumatism which got him laid off for good. It's a +nice little way the Inter-Met. people has of rewardin' the old vets. +An inspector finds Larry, with his hand tied to the chopper handle, +takes a look at his cramped up fingers, puts down his number, and next +payday he gets the sack. + +"So you've found another candidate for your private pension list, have +you, Sadie?" says I. + +But that's another wrong guess. The Dillons ain't takin' charity, not +from anyone. It's the Dillon sisters to the rescue. They rustles +around until they find Larry a job as night watch, in where it's warm. +Then they all chips in for the new Tenth-ave. flat. Maggie brings her +man and the two kids, the lady Kate sends around her trunks with the +furniture, and Nora promises to give up half of her twenty to keep +things going. + +And then the Bradys, who lives opposite, has to spring their blow out. +They'd been married forty years too; but just because one of their boys +was in the Fire Department, and 'Lizzie Brady was workin' in a +Sixth-ave. hair dressin' parlour, they'd no call to flash such a +bluff,--frosted cake from the baker, with the date done in pink candy, +candles burnin' on the mantelpiece, a whole case of St. Louis on the +front fire escape, and the district boss drivin' around in one of +Connely's funeral hacks. Who was the Bradys, that they should have +weddin' celebrations when the Dillons had none? + +Kate, the lady sales person, handed out that conundrum. She supplies +the answer too. She allows that what a Brady can make a try at, a +Dillon can do like it ought to be done. So they've no sooner had the +gas and water turned on at the new flat than she draws up plans for a +weddin' anniversary that'll make the Brady performance look like a pan +of beans beside a standing rib roast. + +She knows what's what, the lady Kate does. She's been to the real +things, and they calls 'em "at homes" in Harlem. The Dillons will be +at home Sunday the nineteenth, from half after four until eight, and +the Bradys can wag their tongues off, for all she cares. It'll be in +honour of the fortieth wedding anniversary of Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence +Dillon, and all the family connections, and all friends of the same, is +to have a bid. + +"Well, that's the limit!" says I. "Did you tell the girl they'd better +be layin' in groceries, instead of givin' an imitation tea?" + +"Certainly not!" says Sadie. "Why shouldn't they enjoy themselves in +their own way?" + +"Eh?" says I. "Oh, I take it all back. But what was the eye swabbin' +for, then?" + +By degrees I gets the enacting clause. The arrangements for the party +was goin' on lovely,--Larry was havin' the buttons sewed onto the long +tailed coat he was married in, the scene shifter had got the loan of +some stage props to decorate the front room, there was to be ice cream +and fancy cakes and ladies' punch. Father Kelley had promised to drop +in, and all was runnin' smooth,--when Mother Dillon breaks loose. + +And what do you guess is the matter with her? She wants her 'Loyshy. +If there was to be any fam'ly convention and weddin' celebration, why +couldn't she have her little Aloysius to it? She didn't care a split +spud how he'd behaved, or if him and his father had had words; he was +her youngest b'y, and she thought more of him than all the rest put +together, and she wouldn't have a hand in any doin's that 'Loyshy was +barred from comin' to. + +As Nora put it, "When the old lady speaks her mind, you got to listen +or go mad from her." She don't talk of anything else, and when she +ain't talkin' she's cryin' her eyes out. Old Larry swore himself out +of breath, the lady Kate argued, and Maggie had done her best; but +there was nothin' doin'. They'd got to find Aloysius and ask him to +the party, or call it off. + +But findin' 'Loyshy wa'n't any cinch. He'd left the Army long ago. He +wa'n't in any of the fifteen-cent lodgin' houses. The police didn't +have any record of him. He didn't figure in the hospital lists. The +nearest anyone came to locatin' him was a handbook man the scene +shifter knew, who said he'd heard of 'Loyshy hangin' around the +Gravesend track summer before last; but there was no use lookin' for +him there at this time of year. It wa'n't until they'd promised to +advertise for Aloysius in the papers that Mother Dillon quit takin' on +and agreed to wear the green silk she'd had made for Nora's chistenin'. + +"Yes, and what then?" says I. + +"Why," says Sadie, "Nora's afraid that if Aloysius doesn't turn up, her +mother will spoil the party with another crying spell; and she knows if +he does come, her father will throw him out." + +"She has a happy way of lookin' at things," says I. "Was it for this +you cut out going to Rockywold?" + +"Of course," says Sadie. "I am to pour tea at the Dillons' on Sunday +afternoon. You are to come at five, and bring Pinckney." + +"Ah, pickles, Sadie!" says I. "This is----" + +"Please, Shorty!" says she. "I've told Nora you would." + +"I'll put it up to Pinckney," says I, "and if he's chump enough to let +himself loose in Tenth-ave. society, just to help the Dillons put it +over the Bradys, I expect I'll be a mark too. But it's a dippy move." + +Course, I mistrusted how Pinckney would take it. He thinks he's got me +on the rollers, and proceeds to shove. He hasn't heard more'n half the +tale before he begins handin' me the josh about it's bein' my duty to +spread sunshine wherever I can. + +"It's calcium the Dillons want," says I. "But I hadn't got to tellin' +you about Aloysius." + +"What's that?" says he. "Aloysius Dillon, did you say?" + +"He's the one that's playin' the part of the missing prod.," says I. + +"What is he like?" says Pinckney, gettin' interested. + +"Accordin' to descriptions," says I, "he's a useless little runt, about +four feet nothin' high and as wide as a match, with the temper of a +striped hornet and the instincts of a yellow kyoodle. But he's his +mother's pet, just the same, and if he ain't found she threatens to +throw fits. Don't happen to know him, do you?" + +"Why," says Pinckney, "I'm not sure but I do." + +It looks like a jolly; but then again, you never can tell about +Pinckney. He mixes around in so many sets that he's like to know 'most +anybody. + +"Well," says I, "if you run across Aloysius at the club, tell him +what's on for Sunday afternoon." + +"I will," says Pinckney, lettin' out a chuckle and climbin' into his +cab. + +I was hoping that maybe Sadie would renige before the time come; but +right after dinner Sunday she makes up in her second best afternoon +regalia, calls a hansom, and starts for Tenth-ave., leavin' +instructions how I was to show up in about an hour with Pinckney, and +not to forget about handin' out our cards just as if this was a swell +affair. I finds Pinckney got up in his frock coat and primrose pants, +and lookin' mighty pleased about something or other. + +"Huh!" says I. "You seem to take this as a reg'lar cut-up act. I call +it blamed nonsense, encouragin' folks like the Dillons to----" + +But there ain't any use arguin' with Pinckney when he's feelin' that +way. He only grins and looks mysterious. We don't have to hunt for +the number of the Dillons' flat house, for there's a gang of kids on +the front steps and more out in the street gawpin' up at the lighted +windows. We makes a dive through them and tackles the four flights, +passin' inspection of the tenants on the way up, every door bein' open. + +"Who's comin' now?" sings out a women from the Second floor back. + +"Only a couple of Willies from the store," says a gent in his shirt +sleeves, givin' us the stare. + +From other remarks we heard passed, it was clear the Dillons had been +tootin' this party as something fine and classy, and that they wa'n't +making good. The signs of frost grows plainer as we gets nearer the +scene of the festivities. All the Dillon family was there, right +enough, from the youngest kid up. Old Larry has had his face scraped +till it shines like a copper stewpan, and him and Mother Dillon is +standin' under a green paper bell hung from a hook in the ceiling. I +could spot Tom, the coal cart driver, by the ring of dust under his +eyelashes; and there was no mistakin' lady Kate, the sales person, with +the double row of coronet hair rolls pinned to the top of her head. +Over in the corner, too, was Sadie, talkin' to Father Kelley. But +there wa'n't any great signs of joy. + +The whole party sizes up me and Pinckney as if they was disappointed. +I can't say what they was lookin' for from us; but whatever it was, we +didn't seem to fill the bill. And just when the gloom is settlin' down +thickest, Mother Dillon begins to sniffle. + +"Now, mother," says Nora, soothin' like, "remember there's company." + +"Ah, bad scran to the lot of yez!" says the old lady. "Where's my +Aloysius? Where is he, will ye tell me that?" + +"Divvul take such a woman!" says old Larry. + +"Tut, tut!" says Father Kelley. + +"Will you look at the Bradys now!" whispers Maggie, hoarselike. + +It wa'n't easy guessin' which windows in the block was theirs, for +every ledge has a pillow on it, and a couple of pairs of elbows on +every pillow, but I took it that the Bradys was where they was grinnin' +widest. You could tell, though, that the merry laugh was bein' passed +up and down, and it was on the Dillons. + +And then, as I was tryin' to give Sadie the get-away sign, we hears a +deep honk outside, and I sees the folks across the way stretchin' their +necks out. In a minute there's a scamperin' in the halls like a +stampede at a synagogue, and we hears the "Ah-h-hs!" coming up from +below. We all makes a rush for the front and rubbers out to see what's +happenin'. By climbin' on a chair and peekin' over the top of the lady +Kate's hair puffs, I catches a glimpse of a big yellow and black bodied +car, with a footman in a bearskin coat holdin' open the door. + +"Oh-o-o-oh! look what's here?" squeals eight little Dillons in chorus. + +You couldn't blame 'em, either, for the hat that was bein' squeezed out +through the door of the car was one of these Broadway thrillers, four +feet across, and covered with as many green ostrich feathers as you +could carry in a clothes basket. What was under the feather lid we +couldn't see. Followin' it out of the machine comes somethin' cute in +a butter colored overcoat and a brown derby. In a minute more we gets +the report that the procession is headed up the stairs, and by the time +we've grouped ourselves around the room with our mouths open, in they +floats. + +In the lead, wearin' the oleo coat with yellow silk facin's, was a +squizzled up little squirt with rat eyes and a mean little face about +as thick as a slice of toast, and the same colour. His clothes, +though, is a pome in browns and yellows, from the champagne tinted No. +3 shoes to the tobacco coloured No. 5 hat, leavin' out the necktie, +which was a shade somewhere between a blue store front and a bottle of +purple ink. + +Even if I hadn't seen the face, I could have guessed who it was, just +by the get-up. Course, there's been a good many noisy dressers +floatin' around the grill room district this winter, but there always +has to be one real scream in every crowd; and this was it. + +"If it ain't Shrimp!" says I. + +"Hello, Shorty!" says he, in that little squeak of his. + +And at that some one swoops past me. There's a flapping of green silk +skirt, and Mother Dillon has given him the high tackle. + +"Aloysius! My little 'Loyshy!" she squeals. + +And say, you could have pushed me over with one finger. Here I'd been +hearin' for the last two seasons about this jock that had come up from +stable helper in a night, and how he'd been winning on nine out of +every ten mounts, and how all the big racing men was overbiddin' each +other to get him signed for their stables. Some of Pinckney's sportin' +friends had towed Shrimp into the Studio once or twice, and besides +that I'd read in the papers all about his giddy wardrobe, and his big +Swede valet, and the English chorus girl that had married him. But in +all this talk of Sadie's about the Dillon fam'ly, I'd never so much as +guessed that Aloysius, the stray, was one and the same as Shrimp Dillon. + +Here he was, though, in the Dillon flat, with Mother Dillon almost +knockin' his breath out pattin' him on the back, and all the little +Dillons jumpin' around and yellin', "Uncle 'Loyshy, Uncle 'Loyshy!" and +Kate and Maggie and Nora waitin' their turns; and the rest of us, +includin' old Larry and me and Sadie, lookin' foolish. The only one +that acts like he wa'n't surprised is Pinckney. + +Well, as soon as Shrimp can wiggle himself clear, and shake the little +Dillons off his legs, he hauls Mrs. Shrimp to the front and does the +honours. And say, they make a pair that would draw a crowd anywhere! +You know the style of chorus ladies the Lieblers bring over,--the +lengthy, high chested, golden haired kind? Well, she's one of the +dizziest that ever stood up to make a background for the pony ballet. +And she has on a costume--well, it goes with the hat, which it puttin' +it strong. + +If the sight of her and the circus coloured car wa'n't enough to stun +the neighbours and send the Bradys under the bed, they had only to wait +till the Swede valet and the footman began luggin' up the sheaf of +two-dollar roses and the basket of champagne. + +I was watchin' old Larry to see how he was takin' it. First he looks +Shrimp up and down, from the brown hat to the yellow shoes, and then he +gazes at Mrs. Shrimp. Then his stiff lower jaw begins saggin' down, +and his knobby old fingers unloosens from the grip they'd got into at +first sight of 'Loyshy. It's plain that he was some in doubt about +that chuckin' out programme he'd had all framed up. What Larry had +been expectin' should the boy turn up at all, was something that looked +like it had been picked out of the bread line. And here was a specimen +of free spender that had "Keep the change!" pasted all over him. Then, +before he has it half figured out, they're lined up in front of each +other. But old Larry ain't one to do the sidestep. + +"Aloysius," says he, scowlin' down at him, "where do ye be afther +gettin' ut?" + +"Out of the ponies, old stuff. Where else?" says Shrimp. + +"Bettin'?" says Larry. + +"Bettin' nothin'!" says Shrimp. "Mud ridin'." + +"Allow me," says Pinckney, pushin' in, "to introduce to you all, ladies +and gentlemen, Mr. Shrimp Dillon, one of the best paid jockeys in +America." + +"And what might they be payin' the likes of him for bein' a jockey?" +says old Larry. + +"Why," says Pinckney, "it was something like twenty thousand this +season, wasn't it, Shrimp?" + +"Countin' bonuses and all," says Shrimp, "it was nearer thirty-two." + +"Thirty-two thou----" But Larry's mouth is open so wide he can't get +the rest out. He just catches his breath, and then, "'Loyshy, me lad, +give us your hand on it." + +"Ahem!" says Father Kelley, pickin' up his hat, "this seems to be a +case where the prodigal has returned--and brought his veal with him." + +"That's a thrue word," says Larry. "'Tis a proud day for the Dillons." + +Did they put it over the Bradys? Well, say! All the Bradys has to do +now, to remember who the Dillons are, is to look across the way and see +the two geranium plants growin' out of solid silver pots. Course, they +wa'n't meant for flower pots. They're champagne coolers; but Mother +Dillon don't know the difference, so what's the odds? Anyway, they're +what 'Loyshy brought for presents, and I'll bet they're the only pair +west of Sixth-avenue. + + + + +XX + +THE CASE OF RUSTY QUINN + +Say, I ain't one of the kind to go around makin' a noise like a pickle, +just because I don't happen to have the same talents that's been handed +out to others. About all I got to show is a couple of punch +distributors that's more or less educated, and a block that's set on +some solid. Not much to get chesty over; but the combination has kept +me from askin' for benefit performances, and as a rule I'm satisfied. + +There's times, though, when I wish--say, don't go givin' me the hee-haw +on this--when I wish I could sing. Ah, I don't mean bein' no grand +opera tenor, with a throat that has to be kept in cotton battin' and a +reputation that needs chloride of lime. What would suit me would be +just a plain, every day la-la-la outfit of pipes, that I could turn +loose on coon songs when I was alone, or out with a bunch in the +moonlight. I'd like to be able to come in on a chorus now and then, +without havin' the rest of the crowd turn on me and call for the hook. + +What music I've got is the ingrowin' kind. When anybody starts up a +real lively tune I can feel it throbbin' and bumpin' away in my head, +like a blowfly in a milk bottle; but if ever I try uncorkin' one of my +warbles, the people on the next block call in the children, and the +truck drivers begin huntin' for the dry axle. + +Now look at what bein' musical did for Rusty Quinn. Who's Rusty? +Well, he ain't much of anybody. I used to wonder, when I'd see him +kickin' around under foot in different places, how it was he had the +nerve to go on livin'. Useless! He appeared about as much good to the +world as a pair of boxin' gloves would be to the armless wonder. + +First I saw of Rusty was five or six years back, when he was hangin' +around my trainin' camp. He was a long, slab sided, loose jointed, +freckled up kid then, always wearin' a silly, good natured grin on his +homely face. About all the good you could say of Rusty was that he +could play the mouth organ, and be good natured, no matter how hard he +was up against it. + +If there was anything else he could do well, no one ever found it out, +though he tried plenty of things. And he always had some great scheme +rattlin' round in his nut, something that was goin' to win him the big +stake. But it was a new scheme every other day, and, outside of +grinnin' and playin' the mouth organ, all I ever noticed specially +brilliant about him was the way he used cigarettes as a substitute for +food. Long's he had a bag of fact'ry sweepin's and a book of rice +papers he didn't mind how many meals he missed, and them long fingers +of his was so well trained they could roll dope sticks while he slept. + +Well, it had been a year or so since I'd run across him last, and if +I'd thought about him at all, which I didn't, it would have been to +guess what fin'lly finished him; when this affair out on Long Island +was pulled off. The swells that owns country places along the south +shore has a horse show about this time every year. As a rule they gets +along without me bein' there to superintend; but last week I happens to +be down that way, payin' a little call on Mr. Jarvis, an old reg'lar of +mine, and in the afternoon he wants to know if I don't want to climb up +on the coach with the rest of the gang and drive over to see the sport. + +Now I ain't so much stuck on this four-in-hand business. It's jolty +kind of ridin', anyway, and if the thing upsets you've got a long ways +to fall; but I always likes takin' a look at a lot of good horses, so I +plants myself up behind, alongside the gent that does the tara-tara-ta +act on the copper funnel, and off we goes. + +It ain't any of these common fair grounds horse shows, such as anyone +can buy a badge to. This is held on the private trottin' track at +Windymere--you know, that big estate that's been leased by the +Twombley-Cranes since they started makin' their splurge. + +And say, they know how to do things in shape, them folks. There's a +big green and white striped tent set up for the judges at the home +plate, and banked around that on either side was the traps and carts +and bubbles of some of the crispest cracker jacks on Mrs. Astor's list. +Course, there was a lot of people I knew; so as soon as our coach is +backed into position I shins down from the perch and starts in to do +the glad hand walk around. + +That's what fetches me onto one of the side paths leadin' up towards +the big house. I was takin' a short cut across the grass, when I sees +a little procession comin' down through the shrubbery. First off it +looks like some one was bein' helped into their coat; but then I +notices that the husky chap behind was actin' more vigorous than +polite. He has the other guy by the collar, and was givin' him the +knee good and plenty, first shovin' him on a step or two, and then +jerkin' him back solid. Loomin' up in the rear was a gent I spots +right off for Mr. Twombley-Crane himself, and by the way he follows I +takes it he's bossin' the job. + +"Gee!" says I to myself, "here's some one gettin' the rough chuck-out +for fair." + +And then I has a glimpse of a freckly face and the silly grin. The +party gettin' the run was Rusty Quinn. He's lookin' just as seedy as +ever, being costumed in a faded blue jersey, an old pair of yellow +ridin' pants, and leggin's that don't match. The bouncer is a great, +ham fisted, ruddy necked Britisher, a man twice the weight of Rusty, +with a face shaped like a punkin. As he sees me slow up he snorts out +somethin' ugly and gives Quinn an extra hard bang in the back with his +knee. And that starts my temperature to risin' right off. + +"Why don't you hit him with a maul, you bloomin' aitch eater," says I. +"Hey, Rusty! what you been up to now?" + +"Your friend's been happre'ended a-sneak thievin', that's w'at!" growls +out the beef chewer. + +"G'wan," says I. "I wouldn't believe the likes of you under oath. +Rusty, how about it?" + +Quinn, he gives me one of them batty grins of his and spreads out his +hand. "Honest, Shorty," says he, "I was only after a handful of +Turkish cigarettes from the smokin' room. I wouldn't touched another +thing; cross m' heart, I wouldn't!" + +"'Ear 'im!" says the Britisher. "And 'im caught prowlin' through the +'ouse!" With that he gives Rusty a shake that must have loosened his +back teeth, and prods him on once more. + +"Ah, say," says I, "you ain't got no call to break his back even if he +was prowlin'. Cut it out, you big mucker, or----" + +Say, I shouldn't have done it, seein' where I was; but the ugly look on +his mug as he lifts his knee again seems to pull the trigger of my +right arm, and I swings in one on that punkin head like I was choppin' +wood. He drops Rusty and comes at me with a rush, windmill fashion, +and I'm so happy for the next two minutes, givin' him what he needs, +that I've mussed up his countenance a lot before I sends in the one +that finds the soft spot on his jaw and lands him on the grass. + +"Here, here!" shouts Mr. Twombley-Crane, comin' up just as his man does +the back shoulder fall. "Why, McCabe, what does this mean?" + +"Nothin' much," says I, "except that I ain't in love with your +particular way of speedin' the partin' guest." + +"Guest!" says he, flushin' up. "The fellow was caught prowling. +Besides, by what right do you question my method of getting rid of a +sneak thief?" + +"Oh, I don't stop for rights in a case of this kind," says I. "I just +naturally butts in. I happens to know that Rusty here, ain't any more +of a thief than I am. If you've got a charge to make, though, I'll see +that he's in court when----" + +"I don't care to bother with the police," says he. "I merely want the +fellow kicked off the place." + +"Sorry to interfere with your plans," says I; "but he's been kicked +enough. I'll lead him off, though, and guarantee he don't come back, +if that'll do?" + +We both simmered down after he agrees to that proposition. The beef +eater picks himself up and limps back to the house, while I escorts +Rusty as far as the gates, givin' him some good advice on the way down. +Seems he'd been workin' as stable helper at Windymere for a couple of +weeks, his latest dream bein' that he was cut out for a jockey; but +he'd run out of dope sticks and, knowin' they was scattered around +reckless in the house, he'd just walked in lookin' for some. + +"Which shows you've lost what little sense you ever had," says I. "Now +here's two whole dollars, Rusty. Go off somewheres and smoke yourself +to death. Nobody'll miss you." + +Rusty, he just grins and moseys down the road, while I goes back to see +the show, feelin' about as much to home, after that run in, as a stray +pup in church. + +It was about an hour later, and they'd got through the program as far +as the youngsters' pony cart class, to be followed by an exhibit of +fancy farm teams. Well, the kids was gettin' ready to drive into the +ring. There was a bunch of 'em, mostly young girls all togged out in +pink and white, drivin' dinky Shetlands in wicker carts covered with +daisies and ribbons. In the lead was little Miss Gladys, that the +Twombley-Cranes think more of than they do their whole bank account. +The rigs was crowded into the main driveway, ready to turn into the +track as soon as the way was cleared, and it sure was a sight worth +seein'. + +I was standin' up on the coach, takin' it in, when all of a sudden +there comes a rumblin', thunderin' sound from out near the gates, and +folks begins askin' each other what's happened. They didn't have to +wait long for the answer; for before anyone can open a mouth, around +the curve comes a cloud of dust, and out dashes a pair of big greys +with one of them heavy blue and yellow farm waggons rattlin' behind. +It was easy to guess what's up then. One of the farm teams has been +scared. + +Next thing that was clear was that there wa'n't any driver on the +waggon, and that them crazy horses was headed straight for that snarl +of pony carts. There wa'n't any yellin' done. I guess 'most every +body's throat was too choked up. I know mine was. I only hears one +sound above the bang and rattle of them hoofs and wheels. That was a +kind of a groan, and I looks down to see Mr. Twombley-Crane standin' up +in the seat of a tourin' car, his face the colour of a wax candle, and +such a look in his eyes as I ain't anxious to see on any man again. + +Next minute he'd jumped. But it wa'n't any use. He was too far away, +and there was too big a crowd to get through. Even if he could have +got there soon enough, he couldn't have stopped them crazy brutes any +more'n he could have blocked a cannon ball. + +I feels sick and faint in the pit of my stomach, and the one thing I +wants to do most just then is to shut my eyes. But I couldn't. I +couldn't look anywhere but at that pair of tearin' horses and them +broad iron wheels. And that's why I has a good view of something that +jumps out of the bushes, lands in a heap in the waggon, and then +scrambles toward the front seat as quick as a cat. I see the red hair +and the blue jersey, and that's enough. I knows it's that useless +Rusty Quinn playin' the fool. + +Now, if he'd had a pair of arms like Jeffries, maybe there'd been some +hope of his pullin' down them horses inside the couple of hundred feet +there was between their front toe calks and where little Miss Gladys +was sittin' rooted to the cushions of her pony cart. But Rusty's +muscle development is about equal to that of a fourteen-year boy, and +it looks like he's goin' to do more harm than good when he grabs the +reins from the whip socket. But he stands up, plants his feet wide, +and settles back for the pull. + +Almost before anyone sees his game, he's done the trick. There's a +smash that sounds like a buildin' fallin' down, a crackin' and +splinterin' of oak wood and iron, a rattlin' of trace chains, a couple +of soggy thumps,--and when the dust settles down we sees a grey horse +rollin' feet up on either side of a big maple, and at the foot of the +tree all that's left of that yellow and blue waggon. Rusty had put +what strength he had into one rein at just the right time, and the pole +had struck the trunk square in the middle. + +For a minute or so there was a grand hurrah, with mothers and fathers +rushin' to grab their youngsters out of the carts and hug 'em; which +you couldn't blame 'em for doin', either. As for me, I drops off the +back of the coach and makes a bee line for that wreck, so I'm among the +first dozen to get there. I'm in time to shove my shoulder under the +capsized waggon body and hold it up. + +Well, there ain't any use goin' into details. What we took from under +there didn't look much like a human bein', for it was as limp and +shapeless as a bag of old rags. But the light haired young feller that +said he was a medical student guessed there might be some life left. +He wa'n't sure. He held his ear down, and after he'd listened for a +minute he said maybe something could be done. So we laid it on one of +the side boards and lugged it up to the house, while some one jumps +into a sixty-horse power car and starts for a sure enough doctor. + +It was durin' the next ten minutes, when the young student was cuttin' +off the blue jersey and the ridin' pants, and pokin' and feelin' +around, that Mr. Twombley-Crane gets the facts of the story. He didn't +have much to say; but, knowin' what I did, and seein' how he looked, I +could easy frame up what was on his mind. He gives orders that +whatever was wanted should be handed out, and he was standin' by +holdin' the brandy flask himself when them washed out blue eyes of +Rusty's flickers open for the first time. + +"I--I forgot my--mouth organ," says Rusty. "I wouldn't of come +back--but for that." + +It wa'n't much more'n a whisper, and it was a shaky one at that. So +was Mr. Twombley-Crane's voice kind of shaky when he tells him he +thanks the Lord he did come back. And then Rusty goes off in another +faint. + +Next a real doc. shows up, and he chases us all out while him and the +student has a confab. In five minutes or so we gets the verdict. The +doc. says Rusty is damaged pretty bad. Things have happened to his +ribs and spine which ought to have ended him on the spot. As it is, he +may hold out another hour, though in the shape he's in he don't see how +he can. But if he could hold out that long the doc. knows of an A-1 +sawbones who could mend him up if anyone could. + +"Then telephone for him at once, and do your best meanwhile," says Mr. +Twombley-Crane. + +By that time everyone on the place knows about Rusty and his stunt. +The front rooms was full of people standin' around whisperin' soft to +each other and lookin' solemn,--swell, high toned folks, that half an +hour before hardly knew such specimens as Rusty existed. But when the +word is passed around that probably he's all in, they takes it just as +hard as if he was one of their own kind. When it comes to takin' the +long jump, we're all pretty much on the same grade, ain't we? + +I begun to see where I hadn't any business sizin' up Rusty like I had, +and was workin' up a heavy feelin' in my chest, when the doc. comes out +and asks if there's such a party as Shorty McCabe present. I knew what +was comin'. Rusty has got his eyes open again and is callin' for me. + +I finds him half propped up with pillows on a shiny mahogany table, his +face all screwed up from the hurt inside, and the freckles showin' up +on his dead white skin like peach stains on a table cloth. + +"They say I'm all to the bad, Shorty," says he, tryin' to spring that +grin of his. + +"Aw, cut it out!" says I. "You tell 'em they got another guess. +You're too tough and rugged to go under so easy." + +"Think so?" says he, real eager, his eyes lightin' up. + +"Sure thing!" says I. Say, I put all the ginger and cheerfulness I +could fake up into that lie. And it seems to do him a heap of good. +When I asks him if there's anything he wants, he makes another crack at +his grin, and says: + +"A paper pipe would taste good about now." + +"Let him have it," says the doc. So the student digs out his cigarette +case, and we helps Rusty light up. + +"Ain't there somethin' more, Rusty?" says I. "You know the house is +yours." + +"Well," says he, after a few puffs, "if this is to be a long wait, a +little music would help. There's a piano over in the corner." + +I looks at the doc. and shakes my head. He shakes back. + +"I used to play a few hymns," says the student. + +"Forget 'em, then," says Rusty. "A hymn would finish me, sure. What +I'd like is somethin' lively." + +"Doc.," says I, "would it hurt?" + +"Couldn't," says he. Also he whispers that he'd use chloroform, only +Rusty's heart's too bad, and if he wants ragtime to deal it out. + +"Wish I could," says I; "but maybe I can find some one who can." + +With that I slips out and hunts up Mrs. Twombley-Crane, explainin' the +case to her. + +"Why, certainly," says she. "Where is Effie? I'll send her in right +away." + +She's a real damson plum, Effie is; one of the cute, fluffy haired +kind, about nineteen. She comes in lookin' scared and sober; but when +she's had a look at Rusty, and he's tried his grin on her, and said how +he'd like to hear somebody tear off somethin' that would remind him of +Broadway, she braces right up. + +"I know," says she. + +And say, she did know! She has us whirl the baby grand around so's she +can glance over the top at Rusty, tosses her lace handkerchief into one +corner of the keyboard, pushes back her sleeves until the elbow dimples +show, and the next thing we know she's teasin' the tumpety-tum out of +the ivories like a professor. + +She opens up with a piece you hear all the kids whistlin',--something +with a swing and a rattle to it, I don't know what. But it brings +Rusty up on his elbow and sets him to keepin' time with the cigarette. +Then she slides off into "Poor John!" and Rusty calls out for her to +sing it, if she can. Can she? Why, she's got one of them sterling +silver voices, that makes Vesta Victoria's warblin' sound like blowin' +a fish horn, and before she's half through the first verse Rusty has +joined in. + +"Come on!" says he, as they strikes the chorus. "Everybody!" + +Say, the doc. was right there with the goods. He roars her out like a +good one; and the student chap wa'n't far behind, either. You know how +it goes-- + + John, he took me round to see his moth-er, his moth-er, his moth-er! + And while he introduced us to each oth-er-- + +Eh? Well, maybe that ain't just the way it goes; but I can think the +tune right. That was what I was up against then. I knew I couldn't +make my voice behave; so all I does is go through the motions with my +mouth and tap the time out with my foot. But I sure did ache to jump +in and help Rusty out. + +It was a great concert. She gives us all them classic things, like +"The Bird on Nellie's Hat," "Waiting at the Church," "No Wedding Bells +for Me," and so on; her fingers just dancin', and her head noddin' to +Rusty, and her eyes kind of encouragin' him to keep his grip. + +Twice, though, he has to quit, as the pain twists him; and the last +time, when he flops back on the pillows, we thought he'd passed in for +good. But in a minute or so he's up again' callin' for more. Say, +maybe you think Miss Effie didn't have some grit of her own, to sit +there bangin' out songs like that, expectin' every minute to see him +keel over. But she stays with it, and we was right in the middle of +that chorus that goes-- + + In old New York, in old New York, + The peach crop's always fine-- + +when the foldin' doors was slid back, and in comes the big surgeon gent +we'd been waitin' for. You should have seen the look on him too, as he +sizes up them three singin', and Rusty there on the table, a cigarette +twisted up in his fingers, fightin' down a spasm. + +"What blasted idiocy is this?" he growled. + +"New kind of pain killer, doc.," says I. "Tell you all about it later. +What you want to do now is get busy." + +Well, that's the whole of it. He knew his book, that bone repairer +did. He worked four hours steady, puttin' back into place the parts of +Rusty that had got skewgeed; but when he rolls down his sleeves and +quits he leaves a man that's almost as good as ever, barrin' a few +months to let the pieces grow together. + +I was out to see Rusty yesterday, and he's doin' fine. He's plannin', +when he gets around again, to take the purse that was made up for him +and invest it in airship stock. + +"And if ever I make a million dollars, Shorty," says he, "I'm goin' to +hand over half of it to that gent that sewed me up." + +"Good!" says I. "And if I was you I'd chuck the other half at the song +writers." + + + + +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 +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 canyons 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 Kelts, 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 + + + * * * * * + + +JOHN FOX, JR'S. + +STORIES OF THE KENTUCKY MOUNTAINS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list. + + +THE TRAIL OF THE LONESOME PINE. + +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. + +The "lonesome pine" from which the story takes its name was a tall tree +that stood in solitary splendor on a mountain top. The fame of the +pine lured a young engineer through Kentucky to catch the trail, and +when he finally climbed to its shelter he found not only the pine but +the foot-prints of a girl. And the girl proved to be lovely, piquant, +and the trail of these girlish foot-prints led the young engineer a +madder chase than "the trail of the lonesome pine." + + +THE LITTLE SHEPHERD OF KINGDOM COME + +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. + +This is a story of Kentucky, in a settlement known as "Kingdom Come." +It is a life rude, semi-barbarous; but natural and honest, from which +often springs the flower of civilization. + +"Chad," the "little shepherd" did not know who he was nor whence he +came--he had just wandered from door to door since early childhood, +seeking shelter with kindly mountaineers who gladly fathered and +mothered this waif about whom there was such a mystery--a charming +waif, by the way, who could play the banjo better that anyone else in +the mountains. + + +A KNIGHT OF THE CUMBERLAND. + +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. + +The scenes are laid along the waters of the Cumberland, the lair of +moonshiner and feudsman. The knight is a moonshiner's son, and the +heroine a beautiful girl perversely christened "The Blight." Two +impetuous young Southerners fall under the spell of "The Blight's" +charms and she learns what a large part jealousy and pistols have in +the love making of the mountaineers. + +Included in this volume is "Hell fer-Sartain" and other stories, some +of Mr. Fox's most entertaining Cumberland valley narratives. + +_Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_ + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK + + + * * * * * + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP'S + +DRAMATIZED NOVELS + +THE KIND THAT ARE MAKING THEATRICAL HISTORY + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for 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 + + + * * * * * + + +MYRTLE REED'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list + + +LAVENDER AND OLD LACE. + +A charming story of a quaint corner of New England, where by-gone +romance finds a modern parallel. The story centers round the coming of +love to the young people on the staff of a newspaper--and it is one of +the prettiest, sweetest and quaintest of old-fashioned love stories. + + +MASTER OF THE VINEYARD. + +A pathetic love story of a young girl, Rosemary. The teacher of the +country school, who is also master of the vineyard, comes to know her +through her desire for books. She is happy in his love till another +woman comes into his life. But happiness and emancipation from her +many trials come to Rosemary at last. The book has a touch of humor +and pathos that will appeal to every reader. + + +OLD ROSE AND SILVER. + +A love story,--sentimental and humorous,--with the plot subordinate to +the character delineation of its quaint people and to the exquisite +descriptions of picturesque spots and of lovely, old, rare treasures. + + +A WEAVER OF DREAMS + +This story tells of the love-affairs of three young people, with an +old-fashioned romance in the background. A tiny dog plays an important +role in serving as a foil for the heroine's talking ingeniousness. +There is poetry, as well as tenderness and charm, in this tale of a +weaver of dreams. + + +A SPINNER IN THE SUN. + +An old-fashioned love story, of a veiled lady who lives in solitude and +whose features her neighbors have never seen. There is a mystery at +the heart of the book that throws over it the glamour of romance. + + +THE MASTER'S VIOLIN. + +A love story in a musical atmosphere. A picturesque, old German +virtuoso consents to take for his pupil a handsome youth who proves to +have an aptitude for technique, but not the soul of an artist. The +youth cannot express the love, the passion and the tragedies of life as +can the master. But a girl comes into his life, and through his +passionate love for her, he learns the lessons that life has to +give--and his soul awakes. + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + * * * * * + + +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, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK + + + * * * * * + + +THE NOVELS OF + +STEWART EDWARD WHITE + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and 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, 526 WEST 26th ST., 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 + + + * * * * * + + +CHARMING BOOKS FOR GIRLS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list + + +WHEN PATTY WENT TO COLLEGE, By Jean Webster. + +Illustrated by C. D. Williams. + +One of the best stories of life in a girl's college that has ever been +written. It is bright, whimsical and entertaining, lifelike, laughable +and thoroughly human. + + +JUST PATTY, By Jean Webster. + +Illustrated by C. M. Relyea. + +Patty is full of the joy of living, fun-loving, given to ingenious +mischief for its own sake, with a disregard for pretty convention which +is an unfailing source of joy to her fellows. + + +THE POOR LITTLE RICH GIRL. By Eleanor Gates. + +With four full page illustrations. + +This story relates the experience of one of those unfortunate children +whose early days are passed in the companionship of a governess, seldom +seeing either parent, and famishing for natural love and tenderness. A +charming play as dramatized by the author. + + +REBECCA OF SUNNYBROOK FARM, By Kate Douglas Wiggin. + +One of the most beautiful studies of childhood--Rebecca's artistic, +unusual and quaintly charming qualities stand out midst a circle of +austere New Englanders. The stage version is making a phenomenal +dramatic record. + + +NEW CHRONICLES OF REBECCA, By Kate Douglas Wiggin. + +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. + +Additional episodes in the girlhood of this delightful heroine that +carry Rebecca through various stages to her eighteenth birthday. + + +REBECCA MARY, By Annie Hamilton Donnell. + +Illustrated by Elizabeth Shippen Green. + +This author possesses the rare gift of portraying all the grotesque +little joys and sorrows and scruples of this very small girl with a +pathos that is peculiarly genuine and appealing. + + +EMMY LOU: Her Book and Heart, By George Madden Martin, + +Illustrated by Charles Louis Hinton. + +Emmy Lou is irresistibly lovable, because she is so absolutely real. +She is just a bewitchingly innocent, hugable little maid. The book is +wonderfully human. + + +_Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_ + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK + + + * * * * * + + +THE NOVELS OF + +CLARA LOUISE BURNHAM + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list + + +JEWEL: A Chapter in Her Life. + +Illustrated by Maude and Genevieve Cowles. + +A story breathing the doctrine of love and patience as exemplified in +the life of a child. Jewel will never grow old because of the +immortality of her love. + + +JEWEL'S STORY BOOK. Illustrated by Albert Schmitt + +A sequel to "Jewel," in which the same characteristics of love and +cheerfulness touch and uplift the reader. + + +THE INNER FLAME. Frontispiece in color. + +A young mining engineer, whose chief ambition is to become an artist, +but who has no friends with whom to realize his hopes, has a way opened +to him to try his powers, and, of course, he is successful. + + +THE RIGHT PRINCESS. + +At a fashionable Long Island resort, a stately English woman employs a +forcible New England housekeeper to serve in her interesting home. +Many humorous situations results. A delightful love affair runs +through it all. + + +THE OPENED SHUTTERS. + +Illustrated with Scenes from the Photo Play. + +A beautiful woman, at discord with life, is brought to realize, by her +new friends, that she may open the shutters of her soul to the blessed +sunlight of joy by casting aside self love. + + +THE RIGHT TRACK. + +Frontispiece in color by Greene Blumenschien. + +A story of a young girl who marries for money so that she can enjoy +things intellectual. Neglect of her husband and of her two step +children makes an unhappy home till a friend brings a new philosophy of +happiness into the household. + + +CLEVER BETSY. Illustrated by Rose O'Neill. + +The "Clever Betsy" was a boat--named for the unyielding spinster whom +the captain hoped to marry. Through the two Betsy's a delightful group +of people are introduced. + + +_Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_ + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK + + + * * * * * + + +SEWELL FORD'S STORIES + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list + + +SHORTY McCABE. Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson. + +A very humorous story. The hero, an independent and vigorous thinker, +sees life, and tells about it in a very unconventional way. + + +SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY. + +Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson. + +Twenty skits, presenting people with their foibles, sympathy, with +human nature and an abounding sense of humor are the requisites for +"side-stepping with Shorty." + + +SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB. + +Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson. + +Shorty McCabe reappears with his figures of speech revamped right up to +the minute. He aids in the right distribution of a "conscience fund," +and gives joy to all concerned. + + +SHORTY McCABE'S ODD NUMBERS. + +Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson. + +These further chronicles of Shorty McCabe tell of his studio for +physical culture, and of his experiences both on the East side and at +swell yachting parties. + + +TORCHY. Illus. by Geo. Biehm and Jas. Montgomery Flagg. + +A red-headed office boy, overflowing with wit and wisdom peculiar to +the youths reared on the sidewalks of New York, tells the story of his +experiences. + + +TRYING OUT TORCHY. Illustrated by F. Foster Lincoln. + +Torchy is just as deliriously funny in these stories as he was in the +previous book. + + +ON WITH TORCHY. Illustrated by F. Foster Lincoln. + +Torchy falls desperately in love with "the only girl that ever was," +but that young society woman's aunt tries to keep the young people +apart, which brings about many hilariously funny situations. + + +TORCHY, PRIVATE SEC. Illustrated by F. Foster Lincoln. + +Torchy rises from the position of office boy to that of secretary for +the Corrugated Iron Company. The story is full of humor and infectious +American slang. + + +WILT THOU TORCHY. Illus. by F. Snapp and A. W. Brown. + +Torchy goes on a treasure search expedition to the Florida West Coast, +in company with a group of friends of the Corrugated Trust and with his +friend's aunt, on which trip Torchy wins the aunt's permission to place +an engagement ring on Vee's finger. + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + * * * * * + + +JACK LONDON'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list + + +JOHN BARLEYCORN. Illustrated by H. T. Dunn. + +This remarkable book is a record of the author's own amazing +experiences. This big, brawny world rover, who has been acquainted +with alcohol from boyhood, comes out boldly against John Barleycorn. +It is a string of exciting adventures, yet it forcefully conveys an +unforgetable idea and makes a typical Jack London book. + + +THE VALLEY OF THE MOON. Frontispiece by George Harper. + +The story opens in the city slums where Billy Roberts, teamster and +ex-prize fighter, and Saxon Brown, laundry worker, meet and love and +marry. They tramp from one end of California to the other, and in the +Valley of the Moon find the farm paradise that is to be their salvation. + + +BURNING DAYLIGHT. Four illustrations. + +The story of an adventurer who went to Alaska and laid the foundations +of his fortune before the gold hunters arrived. Bringing his fortunes +to the States he is cheated out of it by a crowd of money kings, and +recovers it only at the muzzle of his gun. He then starts out as a +merciless exploiter on his own account. Finally he takes to drinking +and becomes a picture of degeneration. About this time he falls in +love with his stenographer and wins her heart but not her hand and +then--but read the story! + + +A SON OF THE SUN. Illustrated by A. O. Fischer and C. W. Ashley. + +David Grief was once a light-haired, blue-eyed youth who came from +England to the South Seas in search of adventure. Tanned like a native +and as lithe as a tiger, he became a real son of the sun. The life +appealed to him and he remained and became very wealthy. + + +THE CALL OF THE WILD. Illustrations by Philip R. Goodwin and Charles +Livingston Bull. Decorations by Charles E. Hooper. + +A book of dog adventures as exciting as any man's exploits could be. +Here is excitement to stir the blood and here is picturesque color to +transport the reader to primitive scenes. + + +THE SEA WOLF. Illustrated by W. J. Aylward. + +Told by a man whom Fate suddenly swings from his fastidious life into +the power of the brutal captain of a sealing schooner. A novel of +adventure warmed by a beautiful love episode that every reader will +hail with delight. + + +WHITE FANG. Illustrated by Charles Livingston Bull. + +"White Fang" is part dog, part wolf and all brute, living in the frozen +north; he gradually comes under the spell of man's companionship, and +surrenders all at the last in a fight with a bull dog. Thereafter he +is man's loving slave. + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + * * * * * + + +NOVELS OF FRONTIER LIFE BY + +WILLIAM MacLEOD RAINE + +HANDSOMELY BOUND IN CLOTH. ILLUSTRATED. + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list + + +MAVERICKS. + +A tale of the western frontier, where the "rustler," whose depredations +are so keenly resented by the early settlers of the range, abounds. +One of the sweetest love stories ever told. + + +A TEXAS RANGER. + +How a member of the most dauntless border police force carried law into +the mesquit, saved the life of an innocent man after a series of +thrilling adventures, followed a fugitive to Wyoming, and then passed +through deadly peril to ultimate happiness. + + +WYOMING. + +In this vivid story of the outdoor West the author has captured the +breezy charm of "cattleland," and brings out the turbid life of the +frontier with all its engaging dash and vigor. + + +RIDGWAY OF MONTANA. + +The scene is laid in the mining centers of Montana, where politics and +mining industries are the religion of the country. The political +contest, the love scene, and the fine character drawing give this story +great strength and charm. + + +BUCKY O'CONNOR. + +Every chapter teems with wholesome, stirring adventures, replete with +the dashing spirit of the border, told with dramatic dash and absorbing +fascination of style and plot. + + +CROOKED TRAILS AND STRAIGHT. + +A story of Arizona; of swift-riding men and daring outlaws; of a bitter +feud between cattle-men and sheep-herders. The heroine is a most +unusual woman and her love story reaches a culmination that is +fittingly characteristic of the great free West. + + +BRAND BLOTTERS. + +A story of the Cattle Range. This story brings out the turbid life of +the frontier, with all its engaging dash and vigor, with a charming +love interest running through its 320 pages. + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Side-stepping with Shorty, by Sewell Ford + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY *** + +***** This file should be named 31659-8.txt or 31659-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/6/5/31659/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Side-stepping with Shorty + +Author: Sewell Ford + +Illustrator: Francis Vaux Wilson + +Release Date: March 15, 2010 [EBook #31659] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<A NAME="img-front"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-front.jpg" ALT="THEY TACKLES ANYTHING I LEADS 'EM UP TO" BORDER="2" WIDTH="460" HEIGHT="694"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 460px"> +THEY TACKLES ANYTHING I LEADS 'EM UP TO +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +Side-stepping +<BR> +with Shorty +</H1> + +<BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +<I>By</I> +</H3> + +<BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +Sewell Ford +</H2> + +<BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +<I>Illustrated by</I> +<BR> +<I>Francis Vaux Wilson</I> +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +NEW YORK +<BR> +GROSSET & DUNLAP +<BR> +PUBLISHERS +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H5 ALIGN="center"> +<I>Copyright, 1908, by Mitchell Kennerley</I> +</H5> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">CHAPTER</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">SHORTY AND THE PLUTE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">ROUNDING UP MAGGIE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">UP AGAINST BENTLEY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">THE TORTONIS' STAR ACT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">PUTTING PINCKNEY ON THE JOB</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">THE SOARING OF THE SAGAWAS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">RINKEY AND THE PHONY LAMP</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">PINCKNEY AND THE TWINS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">A LINE ON PEACOCK ALLEY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">SHORTY AND THE STRAY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">WHEN ROSSITER CUT LOOSE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">TWO ROUNDS WITH SYLVIE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">GIVING BOMBAZOULA THE HOOK</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">A HUNCH FOR LANGDON</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">SHORTY'S GO WITH ART</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">WHY WILBUR DUCKED</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">WHEN SWIFTY WAS GOING SOME</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap18">PLAYING WILBUR TO SHOW</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap19">AT HOME WITH THE DILLONS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap20">THE CASE OF RUSTY QUINN</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +ILLUSTRATIONS +</H2> + +<H4> +<A HREF="#img-front"> +THEY TACKLES ANYTHING I LEADS 'EM TO . . . . . . <I>Frontispiece</I> +</A> +</H4> + +<H4> +<A HREF="#img-078"> +THE TWINS ORGANIZE A GAME OF TAG +</A> +</H4> + +<H4> +<A HREF="#img-144"> +"WE—E—E—OUGH! GLORY BE!" YELLS HANK, LETTIN' OUT AN EARSPLITTER +</A> +</H4> + +<H4> +<A HREF="#img-186"> +HE HAS THE PO'TRY TAP TURNED ON FULL BLAST +</A> +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +I +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +SHORTY AND THE PLUTE +</H4> + +<P> +Notice any gold dust on my back? No? Well it's a wonder there ain't, +for I've been up against the money bags so close I expect you can find +eagle prints all over me. +</P> + +<P> +That's what it is to build up a rep. Looks like all the fat wads in +New York was gettin' to know about Shorty McCabe, and how I'm a sure +cure for everything that ails 'em. You see, I no sooner take hold of +one down and outer, sweat the high livin' out of him, and fix him up +like new with a private course of rough house exercises, than he passes +the word along to another; and so it goes. +</P> + +<P> +This last was the limit, though. One day I'm called to the 'phone by +some mealy mouth that wants to know if this is the Physical Culture +Studio. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure as ever," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," says he, "I'm secretary to Mr. Fletcher Dawes." +</P> + +<P> +"That's nice," says I. "How's Fletch?" +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Dawes," says he, "will see the professah at fawh o'clock this +awfternoon." +</P> + +<P> +"Is that a guess," says I, "or has he been havin' his fortune told?" +</P> + +<P> +"Who is this?" says the gent at the other end of the wire, real sharp +and sassy. +</P> + +<P> +"Only me," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, who are you?" says he. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm the witness for the defence," says I. "I'm Professor McCabe, P. +C. D., and a lot more that I don't use on week days." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" says he, simmerin' down a bit. "This is Professor McCabe +himself, is it? Well, Mr. Fletcher Dawes requiahs youah services. You +are to repawt at his apartments at fawh o'clock this awfternoon—fawh +o'clock, understand?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes," says I. "That's as plain as a dropped egg on a plate of +hash. But say, Buddy; you tell Mr. Dawes that next time he wants me +just to pull the string. If that don't work, he can whistle; and when +he gets tired of whistlin', and I ain't there, he'll know I ain't +comin'. Got them directions? Well, think hard, and maybe you'll +figure it out later. Ta, ta, Mister Secretary." With that I hangs up +the receiver and winks at Swifty Joe. +</P> + +<P> +"Swifty," says I, "they'll be usin' us for rubber stamps if we don't +look out." +</P> + +<P> +"Who was the guy?" says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Some pinhead up to Fletcher Dawes's," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Hully chee!" says Swifty. +</P> + +<P> +Funny, ain't it, how most everyone'll prick up their ears at that name? +And it don't mean so much money as John D.'s or Morgan's does, either. +But what them two and Harriman don't own is divided up among Fletcher +Dawes and a few others. Maybe it's because Dawes is such a free +spender that he's better advertised. Anyway, when you say Fletcher +Dawes you think of a red-faced gent with a fistful of thousand-dollar +bills offerin' to buy the White House for a stable. +</P> + +<P> +But say, he might have twice as much, and I wouldn't hop any quicker. +I'm only livin' once, and it may be long or short, but while it lasts I +don't intend to do the lackey act for anyone. +</P> + +<P> +Course, I thinks the jolt I gave that secretary chap closes the +incident. But around three o'clock that same day, though, I looks down +from the front window and sees a heavy party in a fur lined overcoat +bein' helped out of a shiny benzine wagon by a pie faced valet, and +before I'd done guessin' where they was headed for they shows up in the +office door. +</P> + +<P> +"My name is Dawes. Fletcher Dawes," says the gent in the overcoat. +</P> + +<P> +"I could have guessed that," says I. "You look somethin' like the +pictures they print of you in the Sunday papers." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry to hear it," says he. +</P> + +<P> +But say, he's less of a prize hog than you'd think, come to get +near—forty-eight around the waist, I should say, and about a number +sixteen collar. You wouldn't pick him out by his face as the kind of a +man that you'd like to have holdin' a mortgage on the old homestead, +though, nor one you'd like to sit opposite to in a poker game—eyes +about a quarter of an inch apart, lima bean ears buttoned down close, +and a mouth like a crack in the pavement. +</P> + +<P> +He goes right at tellin' what he wants and when he wants it, sayin' +he's a little out of condition and thinks a few weeks of my trainin' +was just what he needed. Also he throws out that I might come up to +the Brasstonia and begin next day. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes?" says I. "I heard somethin' like that over the 'phone." +</P> + +<P> +"From Corson, eh?" says he. "He's an ass! Never mind him. You'll be +up to-morrow?" +</P> + +<P> +"Say," says I, "where'd you get the idea I went out by the day?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why," says he, "it seems to me I heard something about——" +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe they was personal friends of mine," says I. "That's different. +Anybody else comes here to see me." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah!" says he, suckin' in his breath through his teeth and levelin' +them blued steel eyes of his at me. "I suppose you have your price?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," says I; "but I'll make one, just special for you. It'll be ten +dollars a minute." +</P> + +<P> +Say, what's the use? We saves up till we gets a little wad of twenties +about as thick as a roll of absorbent cotton, and with what we got in +the bank and some that's lent out, we feel as rich as platter gravy. +Then we bumps up against a really truly plute, and gets a squint at his +dinner check, and we feels like panhandlers workin' a side street. +Honest, with my little ten dollars a minute gallery play, I thought I +was goin' to have him stunned. +</P> + +<P> +"That's satisfactory," says he. "To-morrow, at four." +</P> + +<P> +That's all. I'm still standin' there with my mouth open when he's +bein' tucked in among the tiger skins. And I'm bought up by the hour, +like a bloomin' he massage artist! Feel? I felt like I'd fit loose in +a gas pipe. +</P> + +<P> +But Swifty, who's had his ear stretched out and his eyes bugged all the +time, begins to do the walk around and look me over as if I was a new +wax figger in a museum. +</P> + +<P> +"Ten plunks a minute!" says he. "Hully chee!" +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, forget it!" says I. "D'ye suppose I want to be reminded that I've +broke into the bath rubber class? G'wan! Next time you see me prob'ly +I'll be wearin' a leather collar and a tag. Get the mitts on, you +South Brooklyn bridge rusher, and let me show you how I can hit before +I lose my nerve altogether!" +</P> + +<P> +Swifty says he ain't been used so rough since the time he took the +count from Cans; but it was a relief to my feelin's; and when he come +to reckon up that I'd handed him two hundred dollars' worth of punches +without chargin' him a red, he says he'd be proud to have me do it +every day. +</P> + +<P> +If it hadn't been that I'd chucked the bluff myself, I'd scratched the +Dawes proposition. But I ain't no hand to welch; so up I goes next +afternoon, with my gym. suit in a bag, and gets my first inside view of +the Brasstonia, where the plute hangs out. And say, if you think these +down town twenty-five-a-day joints is swell, you ought to get some +Pittsburg friend to smuggle you into one of these up town apartment +hotels that's run exclusively for trust presidents. Why, they don't +have any front doors at all. You're expected to come and go in your +bubble, but the rules lets you use a cab between certain hours. +</P> + +<P> +I tries to walk in, and was held up by a three hundred pound special +cop in grey and gold, and made to prove that I didn't belong in the +baggage elevator or the ash hoist. Then I'm shown in over the Turkish +rugs to a solid gold passenger lift, set in a velvet arm chair, and +shot up to the umpteenth floor. +</P> + +<P> +I was lookin' to find Mr. Dawes located in three or four rooms and +bath, but from what I could judge of the size of his ranch he must pay +by acreage instead of the square foot, for he has a whole wing to +himself. And as for hired help, they was standin' around in clusters, +all got up in baby blue and silver, with mugs as intelligent as so many +frozen codfish. Say, it would give me chillblains on the soul to have +to live with that gang lookin' on! +</P> + +<P> +I'm shunted from one to the other, until I gets to Dawes, and he leads +the way into a big room with rubber mats, punchin' bags, and all the +fixin's you could think of. +</P> + +<P> +"Will this do?" says he. +</P> + +<P> +"It'll pass," says I. "And if you'll chase out that bunch of +employment bureau left-overs, we'll get down to business." +</P> + +<P> +"But," says he, "I thought you might need some of my men to——" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't," says I, "and while you're mixin' it with me you won't, +either." +</P> + +<P> +At that he shoos 'em all out and shuts the door. I opens the window +so's to get in some air that ain't been strained and currycombed and +scented with violets, and then we starts to throw the shot bag around. +I find Fletcher is short winded and soft. He's got a bad liver and a +worse heart, for five or six years' trainin' on wealthy water and pâté +de foie gras hasn't done him any good. Inside of ten minutes he knows +just how punky he is himself, and he's ready to follow any directions I +lay down. +</P> + +<P> +As I'm leavin', a nice, slick haired young feller calls me over and +hands me an old rose tinted check. It was for five hundred and twenty. +</P> + +<P> +"Fifty-two minutes, professor," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, let that pyramid," says I, tossin' it back. +</P> + +<P> +Honest, I never shied so at money before, but somehow takin' that went +against the grain. Maybe it was the way it was shoved at me. +</P> + +<P> +I'd kind of got interested in the job of puttin' Dawes on his feet, +though, and Thursday I goes up for another session. Just as I steps +off the elevator at his floor I hears a scuffle, and out comes a couple +of the baby blue bunch, shoving along an old party with her bonnet +tilted over one ear. I gets a view of her face, though, and I sees +she's a nice, decent lookin' old girl, that don't seem to be either +tanked or batty, but just kind of scared. A Willie boy in a frock coat +was followin' along behind, and as they gets to me he steps up, grabs +her by the arm, and snaps out: +</P> + +<P> +"Now you leave quietly, or I'll hand you over to the police! +Understand?" +</P> + +<P> +That scares her worse than ever, and she rolls her eyes up to me in +that pleadin' way a dog has when he's been hurt. +</P> + +<P> +"Hear that?" says one of the baby blues, shakin' her up. +</P> + +<P> +My fingers went into bunches as sudden as if I'd touched a live wire, +but I keeps my arms down. "Ah, say!" says I. "I don't see any call +for the station-house drag out just yet. Loosen up there a bit, will +you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Mind your business!" says one of 'em, givin' me the glary eye. +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks," says I. "I was waitin' for an invite," and I reaches out and +gets a shut-off grip on their necks. It didn't take 'em long to loosen +up after that. +</P> + +<P> +"Here, here!" says the Willie that I'd spotted for Corson. "Oh, it's +you is it, professor?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, it's me," says I, still holdin' the pair at arms' length. +"What's the row?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why," says Corson, "this old woman——" +</P> + +<P> +"Lady," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Aw—er—yes," says he. "She insists on fawcing her way in to see Mr. +Dawes." +</P> + +<P> +"Well," says I, "she ain't got no bag of dynamite, or anything like +that, has she?" +</P> + +<P> +"I just wanted a word with Fletcher," says she, buttin' in—"just a +word or two." +</P> + +<P> +"Friend of yours?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Why— Well, we have known each other for forty years," says she. +</P> + +<P> +"That ought to pass you in," says I, +</P> + +<P> +"But she refuses to give her name," says Corson. +</P> + +<P> +"I am Mrs. Maria Dawes," says she, holdin' her chin up and lookin' him +straight between the eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"You're not on the list," says Corson. +</P> + +<P> +"List be blowed!" says I. "Say, you peanut head, can't you see this is +some relation? You ought to have sense enough to get a report from the +boss, before you carry out this quick bounce business. Perhaps you're +puttin' your foot in it, son." +</P> + +<P> +Then Corson weakens, and the old lady throws me a look that was as good +as a vote of thanks. And say, when she'd straightened her lid and +pulled herself together, she was as ladylike an old party as you'd want +to meet. There wa'n't much style about her, but she was dressed +expensive enough—furs, and silks, and sparks in her ears. Looked like +one of the sort that had been up against a long run of hard luck and +had come through without gettin' sour. +</P> + +<P> +While we was arguin', in drifts Mr. Dawes himself. I gets a glimpse of +his face when he first spots the old girl, and if ever I see a mouth +shut like a safe door, and a jaw stiffen as if it had turned to +concrete, his did. +</P> + +<P> +"What does this mean, Maria?" he says between his teeth. +</P> + +<P> +"I couldn't help it, Fletcher," says she. "I wanted to see you about +little Bertie." +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" grunts Fletcher. "Well, step in this way. McCabe, you can come +along too." +</P> + +<P> +I wa'n't stuck on the way it was said, and didn't hanker for mixin' up +with any such reunions; but it didn't look like Maria had any too many +friends handy, so I trots along. When we're shut in, with the +draperies pulled, Mr. Dawes plants his feet solid, shoves his hands +down into his pockets, and looks Maria over careful. +</P> + +<P> +"Then you have lost the address of my attorneys?" says he, real frosty. +</P> + +<P> +That don't chill Maria at all. She acted like she was used to it. +"No," says she; "but I'm tired of talking to lawyers. I couldn't tell +them about Bertie, and how lonesome I've been without him these last +two years. Can't I have him, Fletcher?" +</P> + +<P> +About then I begins to get a glimmer of what it was all about, and by +the time she'd gone on for four or five minutes I had the whole story. +Maria was the ex-Mrs. Fletcher Dawes. Little Bertie was a grandson; +and grandma wanted Bertie to come and live with her in the big Long +Island place that Fletcher had handed her when he swapped her off for +one of the sextet, and settled up after the decree was granted. +</P> + +<P> +Hearin' that brought the whole thing back, for the papers printed pages +about the Daweses; rakin' up everything, from the time Fletcher run a +grocery store and lodgin' house out to Butte, and Maria helped him sell +flour and canned goods, besides makin' beds, and jugglin' pans, and +takin' in washin' on the side; to the day Fletcher euchred a prospector +out of the mine that gave him his start. +</P> + +<P> +"You were satisfied with the terms of the settlement, when it was +made," says Mr. Dawes. +</P> + +<P> +"I know," says she; "but I didn't think how badly I should miss Bertie. +That is an awful big house over there, and I am getting to be an old +woman now, Fletcher." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, you are," says he, his mouth corners liftin' a little. "But +Bertie's in school, where he ought to be and where he is going to stay. +Anything more?" +</P> + +<P> +I looks at Maria. Her upper lip was wabblin' some, but that's all. +"No, Fletcher," says she. "I shall go now." +</P> + +<P> +She was just about startin', when there's music on the other side of +the draperies. It sounds like Corson was havin' his troubles with +another female. Only this one had a voice like a brass cornet, and she +was usin' it too. +</P> + +<P> +"Why can't I go in there?" says she. "I'd like to know why! Eh, +what's that? A woman in there?" +</P> + +<P> +And in she comes. She was a pippin, all right. As she yanks back the +curtain and rushes in she looks about as friendly as a spotted leopard +that's been stirred up with an elephant hook; but when she sizes up the +comp'ny that's present she cools off and lets go a laugh that gives us +an iv'ry display worth seein'. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" says she. "Fletchy, who's the old one?" +</P> + +<P> +Say, I expect Dawes has run into some mighty worryin' scenes before +now, havin' been indicted once or twice and so on, but I'll bet he +never bucked up against the equal of this before. He opens his mouth a +couple of times, but there don't seem to be any language on tap. The +missus was ready, though. +</P> + +<P> +"Maria Dawes is my name, my dear," says she. +</P> + +<P> +"Maria!" says the other one, lookin' some staggered. "Why—why, then +you—you're Number One!" +</P> + +<P> +Maria nods her head. +</P> + +<P> +Then Fletcher gets his tongue out of tangle. "Maria," says he, "this +is my wife, Maizie." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes?" says Maria, as gentle as a summer night. "I thought this must +be Maizie. You're very young and pretty, aren't you? I suppose you go +about a lot? But you must be careful of Fletcher. He always was +foolish about staying up too late, and eating things that hurt him. I +used to have to warn him against black coffee and welsh rabbits. He +will eat them, and then he has one of his bad spells. Fletcher is +fifty-six now, you know, and——" +</P> + +<P> +"Maria!" says Mr. Dawes, his face the colour of a boiled beet, "that's +enough of this foolishness! Here, Corson! Show this lady out!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I was just going, Fletcher," says she. +</P> + +<P> +"Good-bye, Maria!" sings out Maizie, and then lets out another of her +soprano ha-ha's, holdin' her sides like she was tickled to death. +Maybe it was funny to her; it wa'n't to Fletcher. +</P> + +<P> +"Come, McCabe," says he; "we'll get to work." +</P> + +<P> +Say, I can hold in about so long, and then I've got to blow off or else +bust a cylinder head. I'd had about enough of this "Come, McCabe" +business, too. "Say, Fletchy," says I, "don't be in any grand rush. I +ain't so anxious to take you on as you seem to think." +</P> + +<P> +"What's that?" he spits out. +</P> + +<P> +"You keep your ears open long enough and you'll hear it all," says I; +for I was gettin' hotter an' hotter under the necktie. "I just want to +say that I've worked up a grouch against this job durin' the last few +minutes. I guess I'll chuck it up." +</P> + +<P> +That seemed to go in deep. Mr. Dawes, he brings his eyes together +until nothin' but the wrinkle keeps 'em apart, and he gets the hectic +flush on his cheek bones. "I don't understand," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"This is where I quit," says I. "That's all." +</P> + +<P> +"But," says he, "you must have some reason." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure," says I; "two of 'em. One's just gone out. That's the other," +and I jerks my thumb at Maizie. +</P> + +<P> +She'd been rollin' her eyes from me to Dawes, and from Dawes back to +me. "What does this fellow mean by that?" says Maizie. "Fletcher, why +don't you have him thrown out?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Fletcher," says I, "why don't you? I'd love to be thrown out +just now!" +</P> + +<P> +Someway, Fletcher wasn't anxious, although he had lots of bouncers +standin' idle within call. He just stands there and looks at his toes, +while Maizie tongue lashes first me and then him. When she gets +through I picks up my hat. +</P> + +<P> +"So long, Fletchy," says I. "What work I put in on you the other day +I'm goin' to make you a present of. If I was you, I'd cash that check +and buy somethin' that would please Maizie." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"D'jer annex another five or six hundred up to the Brasstonia this +afternoon?" asks Swifty, when I gets back. +</P> + +<P> +"Nix," says I. "All I done was to organise a wife convention and get +myself disliked. That ten-a-minute deal is off. But say, Swifty, just +remember I've dodged makin' the bath rubber class, and I'm satisfied at +that." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +II +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +ROUNDING UP MAGGIE +</H4> + +<P> +Say, who was tellin' you? Ah, g'wan! Them sea shore press agents is +full of fried eels. Disguises; nothin'! Them folks I has with me was +the real things. The Rev. Doc. Akehead? Not much. That was my little +old Bishop. And it wa'n't any slummin' party at all. It was just a +little errand of mercy that got switched. +</P> + +<P> +It was this way: The Bishop, he shows up at the Studio for his reg'lar +medicine ball work, that I'm givin' him so's he can keep his equator +from gettin' the best of his latitude. That's all on the quiet, +though. It's somethin' I ain't puttin' on the bulletin board, or +includin' in my list of references, understand? +</P> + +<P> +Well, we has had our half-hour session and the Bishop has just made a +break for the cold shower and the dressin' room, while I'm preparin' to +shed my workin' clothes for the afternoon; when in pops Swifty Joe, +closin' the gym. door behind him real soft and mysterious. +</P> + +<P> +"Shorty," says he in that hoarse whisper he gets on when he's excited, +"she's—she's come!" +</P> + +<P> +"Who's come?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"S-s-sh!" says he, wavin' his hands. "It's the old girl; and she's got +a gun!" +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, say!" says I. "Come out of the trance. What old girl? And what +about the gun?" +</P> + +<P> +Maybe you've never seen Swifty when he's real stirred up? He wears a +corrugated brow, and his lower jaw hangs loose, leavin' the Mammoth +Cave wide open, and his eyes bug out like shoe buttons. His thoughts +come faster than he can separate himself from the words; so it's hard +gettin' at just what he means to say. But, as near as I can come to +it, there's a wide female party waitin' out in the front office for me, +with blood in her eye and a self cockin' section of the unwritten law +in her fist. +</P> + +<P> +Course, I knows right off there must be some mistake, or else it's a +case of dope, and I says so. But Swifty is plumb sure she knew who she +was askin' for when she calls for me, and begs me not to go out. He's +for ringin' up the police. +</P> + +<P> +"Ring up nobody!" says I. "S'pose I want this thing gettin' into the +papers? If a Lady Bughouse has strayed in here, we got to shoo her out +as quiet as possible. She can't shoot if we rush her. Come on!" +</P> + +<P> +I will say for Swifty Joe that, while he ain't got any too much sense, +there's no ochre streak in him. When I pulls open the gym. door and +gives the word, we went through neck and neck. +</P> + +<P> +"Look out!" he yells, and I sees him makin' a grab at the arm of a +broad beamed old party, all done up nicely in grey silk and white lace. +</P> + +<P> +And say, it's lucky I got a good mem'ry for profiles; for if I hadn't +seen right away it was Purdy Bligh's Aunt Isabella, and that the gun +was nothin' but her silver hearin' tube, we might have been tryin' to +explain it to her yet. As it is, I'm just near enough to make a swipe +for Swifty's right hand with my left, and I jerks his paw back just as +she turns around from lookin' out of the window and gets her lamps on +us. Say, we must have looked like a pair of batty ones, standin' there +holdin' hands and starin' at her! But it seems that folks as deaf as +she is ain't easy surprised. All she does is feel around her for her +gold eye glasses with one hand, and fit the silver hearin' machine to +her off ear with the other. It's one of these pepper box affairs, and +I didn't much wonder that Swifty took it for a gun. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you Professor McCabe?" says she. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure!" I hollers; and Swifty, not lookin' for such strenuous +conversation, goes up in the air about two feet. +</P> + +<P> +"I beg pardon," says the old girl; "but will you kindly speak into the +audiphone." +</P> + +<P> +So I steps up closer, forgettin' that I still has the clutch on Swifty, +and drags him along. +</P> + +<P> +"Ahr, chee!" says Swifty. "This ain't no brother act, is it?" +</P> + +<P> +With that I lets him go, and me and Aunt Isabella gets down to +business. I was lookin' for some tale about Purdy—tell you about him +some day—but it looks like this was a new deal; for she opens up by +askin' if I knew a party by the name of Dennis Whaley. +</P> + +<P> +"Do I?" says I. "I've known Dennis ever since I can remember knowin' +anybody. He's runnin' my place out to Primrose Park now." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought so," says Aunt Isabella. "Then perhaps you know a niece of +his, Margaret Whaley?" +</P> + +<P> +I didn't; but I'd heard of her. She's Terence Whaley's girl, that come +over from Skibbereen four or five years back, after near starvin' to +death one wet season when the potato crop was so bad. Well, it seems +Maggie has worked a couple of years for Aunt Isabella as kitchen girl. +Then she's got ambitious, quit service, and got a flatwork job in a +hand laundry—eight per, fourteen hours a day, Saturday sixteen. +</P> + +<P> +I didn't tumble why all this was worth chinnin' about until Aunt +Isabella reminds me that she's president and board of directors of the +Lady Pot Wrestlers' Improvement Society. She's one of the kind that +spends her time tryin' to organise study classes for hired girls who +have different plans for spendin' their Thursday afternoons off. +</P> + +<P> +Seems that Aunt Isabella has been keepin' special tabs on Maggie, +callin' at the laundry to give her good advice, and leavin' her books +to read,—which I got a tintype of her readin', not,—and otherwise +doin' the upliftin' act accordin' to rule. But along in the early +summer Maggie had quit the laundry without consultin' the old girl +about it. Aunt Isabella kept on the trail, though, run down her last +boardin' place, and begun writin' her what she called helpful letters. +She kept this up until she was handed the ungrateful jolt. The last +letter come back to her with a few remarks scribbled across the face, +indicatin' that readin' such stuff gave Maggie a pain in the small of +her back. But the worst of it all was, accordin' to Aunt Isabella, +that Maggie was in Coney Island. +</P> + +<P> +"Think of it!" says she. "That poor, innocent girl, living in that +dreadfully wicked place! Isn't it terrible?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I don't know," says I. "It all depends." +</P> + +<P> +"Hey?" says the old girl. "What say?" +</P> + +<P> +Ever try to carry on a debate through a silver salt shaker? It's the +limit. Thinkin' it would be a lot easier to agree with her, I shouts +out, "Sure thing!" and nods my head. She nods back and rolls her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"She must be rescued at once!" says Aunt Isabella. "Her uncle ought to +be notified. Can't you send for him?" +</P> + +<P> +As it happens, Dennis had come down that mornin' to see an old friend +of his that was due to croak; so I figures it out that the best way +would be to get him and the old lady together and let 'em have it out. +I chases Swifty down to West 11th-st. to bring Dennis back in a hurry, +and invites Aunt Isabella to make herself comfortable until he comes. +</P> + +<P> +She's too excited to sit down, though. She goes pacin' around the +front office, now and then lookin' me over suspicious,—me bein' still +in my gym. suit,—and then sizin' up the sportin' pictures on the wall. +My art exhibit is mostly made up of signed photos of Jeff and Fitz and +Nelson in their ring costumes, and it was easy to see she's some jarred. +</P> + +<P> +"I hope this is a perfectly respectable place, young man," says she. +</P> + +<P> +"It ain't often pulled by the cops," says I. +</P> + +<P> +Instead of calmin' her down, that seems to stir her up worse'n ever. +"I should hope not!" says she. "How long must I wait here?" +</P> + +<P> +"No longer'n you feel like waitin', ma'am," says I. +</P> + +<P> +And just then the gym. door opens, and in walks the Bishop, that I'd +clean forgot all about. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Bishop!" squeals Aunt Isabella. "You here!" +</P> + +<P> +Say, it didn't need any second sight to see that the Bishop would have +rather met 'most anybody else at that particular minute; but he hands +her the neat return. "It appears that I am," says he. "And you?" +</P> + +<P> +Well, it was up to her to do the explainin'. She gives him the whole +history of Maggie Whaley, windin' up with how she's been last heard +from at Coney Island. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't it dreadful, Bishop?" says she. "And can't you do something to +help rescue her?" +</P> + +<P> +Now I was lookin' for the Bishop to say somethin' soothin'; but hanged +if he don't chime in and admit that it's a sad case and he'll do what +he can to help. About then Swifty shows up with Dennis, and Aunt +Isabella lays it before him. Now, accordin' to his own account, Dennis +and Terence always had it in for each other at home, and he never took +much stock in Maggie, either. But after he'd listened to Aunt Isabella +for a few minutes, hearin' her talk about his duty to the girl, and how +she ought to be yanked off the toboggan of sin, he takes it as serious +as any of 'em. +</P> + +<P> +"Wurrah, wurrah!" says he, "but this do be a black day for the Whaleys! +It's the McGuigan blood comin' out in her. What's to be done, mum?" +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Isabella has a program all mapped out. Her idea is to get up a +rescue expedition on the spot, and start for Coney. She says Dennis +ought to go; for he's Maggie's uncle and has got some authority; and +she wants the Bishop, to do any prayin' over her that may be needed. +</P> + +<P> +"As for me," says she, "I shall do my best to persuade her to leave her +wicked companions." +</P> + +<P> +Well, they was all agreed, and ready to start, when it comes out that +not one of the three has ever been to the island in their lives, and +don't know how to get there. At that I sees the Bishop lookin' +expectant at me. +</P> + +<P> +"Shorty," says he, "I presume you are somewhat familiar with +this—er—wicked resort?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not the one you're talkin' about," says I. "I've been goin' to Coney +every year since I was old enough to toddle; and I'll admit there has +been seasons when some parts of it was kind of tough; but as a general +proposition it never looked wicked to me." +</P> + +<P> +That kind of puzzles the Bishop. He says he's always understood that +the island was sort of a vent hole for the big sulphur works. Aunt +Isabella is dead sure of it too, and hints that maybe I ain't much of a +judge. Anyway, she thinks I'd be a good guide for a place of that +kind, and prods the Bishop on to urge me to go. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," says I, "just for a flier, I will." +</P> + +<P> +So, as soon as I've changed my clothes, we starts for the iron +steamboats, and plants ourselves on the upper deck. And say, we was a +sporty lookin' bunch—I don't guess! There was the Bishop, in his +little flat hat and white choker,—you couldn't mistake what he +was,—and Aunt Isabella, with her grey hair and her grey and white +costume, lookin' about as giddy as a marble angel on a tombstone. Then +there's Dennis, who has put on the black whip cord Prince Albert he +always wears when he's visitin' sick friends or attendin' funerals. +The only festive lookin' point about him was the russet coloured throat +hedge he wears in place of a necktie. +</P> + +<P> +Honest, I felt sorry for them suds slingers that travels around the +deck singin' out, "Who wants the waiter?" Every time one would come +our way he'd get as far as "Who wants——" and then he'd switch off +with an "Ah, chee!" and go away disgusted. +</P> + +<P> +All the way down, the old girl has her eye out for wickedness. The +sight of Adolph, the grocery clerk, dippin' his beak into a mug of +froth, moves her to sit up and give him the stony glare; while a +glimpse of a young couple snugglin' up against each other along the +rail almost gives her a spasm. +</P> + +<P> +"Such brazen depravity!" says she to the Bishop. +</P> + +<P> +By the time we lands at the iron pier she has knocked Coney so much +that I has worked up a first class grouch. +</P> + +<P> +"Come on!" says I. "Let's have Maggie's address and get through with +this rescue business before all you good folks is soggy with sin." +</P> + +<P> +Then it turns out she ain't got any address at all. The most she knows +is that Maggie's somewhere on the island. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," I shouts into the tube, "Coney's something of a place, you see! +What's your idea of findin' her?" +</P> + +<P> +"We must search," says Aunt Isabella, prompt and decided. +</P> + +<P> +"Mean to throw out a regular drag net?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +She does. Well, say, if you've ever been to Coney on a good day, when +there was from fifty to a hundred thousand folks circulatin' about, +you've got some notion of what a proposition of that kind means. +Course, I wa'n't goin to tackle the job with any hope of gettin' away +with it; but right there I'm struck with a pleasin' thought. +</P> + +<P> +"Do I gather that I'm to be the Commander Peary of this expedition?" +says I. +</P> + +<P> +It was a unanimous vote that I was. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," says I, "you know you can't carry it through on hot air. It +takes coin to get past the gates in this place." +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Isabella says she's prepared to stand all the expense. And what +do you suppose she passes out? A green five! +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, say, this ain't any Sunday school excursion," says I. "Why, that +wouldn't last us a block. Guess you'll have to dig deeper or call it +off." +</P> + +<P> +She was game, though. She brings up a couple of tens next dip, the +Bishop adds two more, and I heaves in one on my own hook. +</P> + +<P> +"Now understand," says I, "if I'm headin' this procession there mustn't +be any hangin' back or arguin' about the course. Coney's no place for +a quitter, and there's some queer corners in it; but we're lookin' for +a particular party, so we can't skip any. Follow close, don't ask me +fool questions, and everybody keep their eye skinned for Maggie. Is +that clear?" +</P> + +<P> +They said it was. +</P> + +<P> +"Then we're off in a bunch. This way!" says I. +</P> + +<P> +Say, it was almost too good to be true. I hadn't more'n got 'em inside +of Dreamland before they has their mouths open and their eyes popped, +and they was so rattled they didn't know whether they was goin' up or +comin' down. The Bishop grabs me by the elbow, Aunt Isabella gets a +desperate grip on his coat tails, and Dennis hooks two fingers into the +back of her belt. When we lines up like that we has the fat woman +takin' her first camel ride pushed behind the screen. The barkers out +in front of the dime attractions takes one look at us and loses their +voices for a whole minute—and it takes a good deal to choke up one of +them human cyclones. I gives 'em back the merry grin and blazes ahead. +</P> + +<P> +First thing I sees that looks good is the wiggle-waggle brass +staircase, where half of the steps goes up as the other comes down. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, altogether!" says I, feedin' the coupons to the ticket man, and I +runs 'em up against the liver restorer at top speed. Say that +exhibition must have done the rubbernecks good! First we was all +jolted up in a heap, then we was strung out like a yard of +frankfurters; but I kept 'em at it until we gets to the top. Aunt +Isabella has lost her breath and her bonnet has slid over one ear, the +Bishop is red in the face, and Dennis is puffin' like a freight engine. +</P> + +<P> +"No Maggie here," says I. "We'll try somewhere else." +</P> + +<P> +No. 2 on the event card was the water chutes, and while we was slidin' +up on the escalator they has a chance to catch their wind. They didn't +get any more'n they needed though; for just as Aunt Isabella has +started to ask the platform man if he'd seen anything of Maggie Whaley, +a boat comes up on the cogs, and I yells for 'em to jump in quick. The +next thing they knew we was scootin' down that slide at the rate of a +hundred miles an hour, with three of us holdin' onto our hats, and one +lettin' out forty squeals to the minute. +</P> + +<P> +"O-o-o o-o-o!" says Aunt Isabella, as we hits the water and does the +bounding bounce. +</P> + +<P> +"That's right," says I; "let 'em know you're here. It's the style." +</P> + +<P> +Before they've recovered from the chute ride I've hustled 'em over to +one of them scenic railroads, where you're yanked up feet first a +hundred feet or so, and then shot down through painted canvas mountains +for about a mile. Say, it was a hummer, too! I don't know what there +is about travellin' fast; but it always warms up my blood, and about +the third trip I feels like sendin' out yelps of joy. +</P> + +<P> +Course, I didn't expect it would have any such effect on the Bishop; +but as we went slammin' around a sharp corner I gets a look at his +face. And would you believe it, he's wearin' a reg'lar breakfast food +grin! Next plunge we take I hears a whoop from the back seat, and I +knows that Dennis has caught it, too. +</P> + +<P> +I was afraid maybe the old girl has fainted; but when we brings up at +the bottom and I has a chance to turn around, I finds her still +grippin' the car seat, her feet planted firm, and a kind of wild, +reckless look in her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"We did that last lap a little rapid," says I. "Maybe we ought to +cover the ground again, just to be sure we didn't miss Maggie. How +about repeatin' eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"I—I wouldn't mind," says she. +</P> + +<P> +"Good!" says I. "Percy, send her off for another spiel." +</P> + +<P> +And we encores the performance, with Dennis givin' the Donnybrook call, +and the smile on the Bishop's face growin' wider and wider. Fun? I've +done them same stunts with a gang of real sporting men, and, never had +the half of it. +</P> + +<P> +After that my crowd was ready for anything. They forgets all about the +original proposition, and tackles anything I leads them up to, from +bumpin' the bumps to ridin' down in the tubs on the tickler. When we'd +got through with Dreamland and the Steeplechase, we wanders down the +Bowery and hits up some hot dog and green corn rations. +</P> + +<P> +By the time I gets ready to lead them across Surf-ave. to Luna Park it +was dark, and about a million incandescents had been turned on. Well, +you know the kind of picture they gets their first peep at. Course, +it's nothin' but white stucco and gold leaf and electric light, with +the blue sky beyond. But say, first glimpse you get, don't it knock +your eye out? +</P> + +<P> +"Whist!" says Dennis, gawpin' up at the front like lie meant to swallow +it. "Is ut the Blessed Gates we're comin' to?" +</P> + +<P> +"Magnificent!" says the Bishop. +</P> + +<P> +And just then Aunt Isabella gives a gasp and sings out, "Maggie!" +</P> + +<P> +Well, as Dennis says afterwards, in tellin' Mother Whaley about it, +"Glory be, would yez think ut? I hears her spake thot name, and up I +looks, and as I'm a breathin' man, there sits Maggie Whaley in a solid +goold chariot all stuck with jools, her hair puffed out like a crown, +and the very neck of her blazin' with pearls and di'monds. Maggie +Whaley, mind ye, the own daughter of Terence, that's me brother; and +her the boss of a place as big as the houses of parli'ment and finer +than Windsor castle on the King's birthday!" +</P> + +<P> +It was Maggie all right. She was sittin' in a chariot too—you've seen +them fancy ticket booths they has down to Luna. And she has had her +hair done up by an upholsterer, and put through a crimpin' machine. +That and the Brazilian near-gem necklace she wears does give her a kind +of a rich and fancy look, providin' you don't get too close. +</P> + +<P> +She wasn't exactly bossin' the show. She was sellin' combination +tickets, that let you in on so many rackets for a dollar. She'd +chucked the laundry job for this, and she was lookin' like she was glad +she'd made the shift. But here was four of us who'd come to rescue her +and lead her back to the ironin' board. +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Isabella makes the first break. She tells Maggie who she is and +why she's come. "Margaret," says she, "I do hope you will consent to +leave this wicked life. Please say you will, Margaret!" +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, turn it off!" says Maggie. "Me back to the sweat box at eight per +when I'm gettin' fourteen for this? Not on your ping pongs! Fade, +Aunty, fade!" +</P> + +<P> +Then the Bishop is pushed up to take his turn. He says he is glad to +meet Maggie, and hopes she likes her new job. Maggie says she does. +She lets out, too, that she's engaged to the gentleman what does a +refined acrobatic specialty in the third attraction on the left, and +that when they close in the fall he's goin' to coach her up so's they +can do a double turn in the continuous houses next winter at from sixty +to seventy-five per, each. So if she ever irons another shirt, it'll +be just to show that she ain't proud. +</P> + +<P> +And that's where the rescue expedition goes out of business with a low, +hollow plunk. Among the three of 'em not one has a word left to say. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, folks," says I, "what are we here for? Shall we finish the +evenin' like we begun? We're only alive once, you know, and this is +the only Coney there is. How about it?" +</P> + +<P> +Did we? Inside of two minutes Maggie has sold us four entrance +tickets, and we're headed for the biggest and wooziest thriller to be +found in the lot. +</P> + +<P> +"Shorty," says the Bishop, as we settles ourselves for a ride home on +the last boat, "I trust I have done nothing unseemly this evening." +</P> + +<P> +"What! You?" says I. "Why, Bishop, you're a reg'lar ripe old sport; +and any time you feel like cuttin' loose again, with Aunt Isabella or +without, just send in a call for me." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +III +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +UP AGAINST BENTLEY +</H4> + +<P> +Say, where's Palopinto, anyway? Well neither did I. It's somewhere +around Dallas, but that don't help me any. Texas, eh? You sure don't +mean it! Why, I thought there wa'n't nothin' but one night stands down +there. But this Palopinto ain't in that class at all. Not much! It's +a real torrid proposition. No, I ain't been there; but I've been up +against Bentley, who has. +</P> + +<P> +He wa'n't mine, to begin with. I got him second hand. You see, he +come along just as I was havin' a slack spell. Mr. Gordon—yes, +Pyramid Gordon—he calls up on the 'phone and says he's in a hole. +Seems he's got a nephew that's comin' on from somewhere out West to +take a look at New York, and needs some one to keep him from fallin' +off Brooklyn Bridge. +</P> + +<P> +"How's he travellin'," says I; "tagged, in care of the conductor?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no," says Mr. Gordon. "He's about twenty-two, and able to take +care of himself anywhere except in a city like this." Then he wants to +know how I'm fixed for time. +</P> + +<P> +"I got all there is on the clock," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"And would you be willing to try keeping Bentley out of mischief until +I get back?" says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure as ever," says I. "I don't s'pose he's any holy terror; is he?" +</P> + +<P> +Pyramid said he wa'n't quite so bad as that. He told me that Bentley'd +been brought up on a big cattle ranch out there, and that now he was +boss. +</P> + +<P> +"He's been making a lot of money recently, too," says Mr. Gordon, "and +he insists on a visit East. Probably he will want to let New York know +that he has arrived, but you hold him down." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I'll keep him from liftin' the lid, all right," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"That's the idea, Shorty," says he. "I'll write a note telling him all +about you, and giving him a few suggestions." +</P> + +<P> +I had a synopsis of Bentley's time card, so as soon's he'd had a chance +to open up his trunk and wash off some of the car dust I was waitin' at +the desk in the Waldorf. +</P> + +<P> +Now of course, bein' warned ahead, and hearin' about this cattle ranch +business, I was lookin' for a husky boy in a six inch soft-brim and +leather pants. I'd calculated on havin' to persuade him to take off +his spurs and leave his guns with the clerk. +</P> + +<P> +But what steps out of the elevator and answers to the name of Bentley +is a Willie boy that might have blown in from Asbury Park or Far +Rockaway. He was draped in a black and white checked suit that you +could broil a steak on, with the trousers turned up so's to show the +openwork silk socks, and the coat creased up the sides like it was made +over a cracker box. His shirt was a MacGregor plaid, and the band +around his Panama was a hand width Roman stripe. +</P> + +<P> +"Gee!" thinks I, "if that's the way cow boys dress nowadays, no wonder +there's scandals in the beef business!" +</P> + +<P> +But if you could forget his clothes long enough to size up what was in +'em, you could see that Bentley was a mild enough looker. There's lots +of bank messengers and brokers' clerks just like him comin' over from +Brooklyn and Jersey every mornin'. He was about five feet eight, and +skimpy built, and he had one of these recedin' faces that looked like +it was tryin' to get away from his nose. +</P> + +<P> +But then, it ain't always the handsome boys that behaves the best, and +the more I got acquainted with Bentley, the better I thought of him. +He said he was mighty glad I showed up instead of Mr. Gordon. +</P> + +<P> +"Uncle Henry makes me weary," says he. "I've just been reading a +letter from him, four pages, and most of it was telling me what not to +do. And this the first time I was ever in New York since I've been old +enough to remember!" +</P> + +<P> +"You'd kind of planned to see things, eh?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, yes," says Bentley. "There isn't much excitement out on the +ranch, you know. Of course, we ride into Palopinto once or twice a +month, and sometimes take a run up to Dallas; but that's not like +getting to New York." +</P> + +<P> +"No," says I. "I guess you're able to tell the difference between this +burg and them places you mention, without lookin' twice. What is +Dallas, a water tank stop?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's a little bigger'n that," says he, kind of smilin'. +</P> + +<P> +But he was a nice, quiet actin' youth; didn't talk loud, nor go through +any tough motions. I see right off that I'd been handed the wrong set +of specifications, and I didn't lose any time framin' him up accordin' +to new lines. I knew his kind like a book. You could turn him loose +in New York for a week, and the most desperate thing he'd find to do +would be smokin' cigarettes on the back seat of a rubberneck waggon. +And yet he'd come all the way from the jumpin' off place to have a +little innocent fun. +</P> + +<P> +"Uncle Henry wrote me," says he, "that while I'm here I'd better take +in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and visit St. Patrick's Cathedral +and Grant's Tomb. But say, I'd like something a little livelier than +that, you know." +</P> + +<P> +He was so mild about it that I works up enough sympathy to last an S. +P. C. A. president a year. I could see just what he was achin' for. +It wa'n't a sight of oil paintin's or churches. He wanted to be able +to go back among the flannel shirts and tell the boys tales that would +make their eyes stick out. He was ambitious to go on a regular cut up, +but didn't know how, and wouldn't have had the nerve to tackle it alone +if he had known. +</P> + +<P> +Now, I ain't ever done any red light pilotin', and didn't have any +notion of beginnin' then, especially with a youngster as nice and green +as Bentley; but right there and then I did make up my mind that I'd +steer him up against somethin' more excitin' than a front view of Grace +Church at noon. It was comin' to him. +</P> + +<P> +"See here, Bentley," says I, "I've passed my word to kind of look after +you, and keep you from rippin' things up the back here in little old +New York; but seein' as this is your first whack at it, if you'll +promise to stop when I say 'Whoa!' and not let on about it afterwards +to your Uncle Henry, I'll just show you a few things that they don't +have out West," and I winks real mysterious. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, will you?" says Bentley. "By ginger! I'm your man!" +</P> + +<P> +So we starts out lookin' for the menagerie. It was all I could do, +though, to keep my eyes off'm that trousseau of his. +</P> + +<P> +"They don't build clothes like them in Palopinto, do they?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no," says Bentley. "I stopped off in Chicago and got this outfit. +I told them I didn't care what it cost, but I wanted the latest." +</P> + +<P> +"I guess you got it," says I. "That's what I'd call a night edition, +base ball extra. You mustn't mind folks giraffin' at you. They always +do that to strangers." +</P> + +<P> +Bentley didn't mind. Fact is, there wa'n't much that did seem to faze +him a whole lot. He'd never rode in the subway before, of course, but +he went to readin' the soaps ads just as natural as if he lived in +Harlem. I expect that was what egged me on to try and get a rise out +of him. You see, when they come in from the rutabaga fields and the +wheat orchards, we want 'em to open their mouths and gawp. If they do, +we give 'em the laugh; but if they don't, we feel like they was +throwin' down the place. So I lays out to astonish Bentley. +</P> + +<P> +First I steers him across Mulberry Bend and into a Pell-st. chop suey +joint that wouldn't be runnin' at all if it wa'n't for the Sagadahoc +and Elmira folks the two dollar tourin' cars bring down. With all the +Chinks gabblin' around outside, though, and the funny, letterin' on the +bill of fare, I thought that would stun him some. He just looked +around casual, though, and laid into his suey and rice like it was a +plate of ham-and, not even askin' if he couldn't buy a pair of +chopsticks as a souvenir. +</P> + +<P> +"There's a bunch of desperate characters," says I, pointin' to a table +where a gang of Park Row compositors was blowin' themselves to a +platter of chow-ghi-sumen. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes?" says he. +</P> + +<P> +"There's Chuck Connors, and Mock Duck, and Bill the Brute, and One Eyed +Mike!" I whispers. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm glad I saw them," says Bentley. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll take a sneak before the murderin' begins," say I. "Maybe you'll +read about how many was killed, in the mornin' papers." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll look for it," says he. +</P> + +<P> +Say, it was discouragin'. We takes the L up to 23rd and goes across +and up the east side of Madison Square. +</P> + +<P> +"There," says I, pointin' out the Manhattan Club, that's about as +lively as the Subtreasury on a Sunday, "that's Canfield's place. We'd +go in and see 'em buck the tiger, only I got a tip that Bingham's goin' +to pull it to-night. That youngster in the straw hat just goin' in is +Reggie." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well!" says Bentley. +</P> + +<P> +Oh, I sure did show Bentley a lot of sights that evenin', includin' a +wild tour through the Tenderloin—in a Broadway car. We winds up at a +roof garden, and, just to give Bentley an extra shiver, I asks the +waiter if we wa'n't sittin' somewhere near the table that Harry and +Evelyn had the night he was overcome by emotional insanity. +</P> + +<P> +"You're at the very one, sir," he says. Considerin' we was ten blocks +away, he was a knowin' waiter. +</P> + +<P> +"This identical table; hear that, Bentley?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't say!" says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Let's have a bracer," says I. "Ever drink a soda cocktail, Bentley?" +</P> + +<P> +He said he hadn't. +</P> + +<P> +"Then bring us two, real stiff ones," says I. You know how they're +made—a dash of bitters, a spoonful of bicarbonate, and a bottle of +club soda, all stirred up in a tall glass, almost as intoxicatin' as +buttermilk. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't make your head dizzy, does it?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"A little," says Bentley; "but then, I'm not used to mixed drinks. We +take root beer generally, when we're out on a tear." +</P> + +<P> +"You cow boys must be a fierce lot when you're loose," says I. +</P> + +<P> +Bentley grinned, kind of reminiscent. "We do raise the Old Harry once +in awhile," says he. "The last time we went up to Dallas I drank three +different kinds of soda water, and we guyed a tamale peddler so that a +policeman had to speak to us." +</P> + +<P> +Say! what do you think of that? Wouldn't that freeze your blood? +</P> + +<P> +Once I got him started, Bentley told me a lot about life on the ranch; +how they had to milk and curry down four thousand steers every night; +and about their playin' checkers at the Y. M. C. A. branch evenin's, +and throwin' spit balls at each other durin' mornin' prayers. I'd +always thought these stage cow boys was all a pipe dream, but I never +got next to the real thing before. +</P> + +<P> +It was mighty interestin', the way he told it, too. They get prizes +for bein' polite to each other durin' work hours, and medals for +speakin' gentle to the cows. Bentley said he had four of them medals, +but he hadn't worn 'em East for fear folks would think he was proud. +That gave me a line on where he got his quiet ways from. It was the +trainin' he got on the ranch. He said it was grand, too, when a crowd +of the boys came ridin' home from town, sometimes as late as eleven +o'clock at night, to hear 'em singin' "Onward, Christian Soldier" and +tunes like that. +</P> + +<P> +"I expect you do have a few real tough citizens out that way, though," +says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said he, speakin' sad and regretful, "once in awhile. There was +one came up from Las Vegas last Spring, a low fellow that they called +Santa Fe Bill. He tried to start a penny ante game, but we discouraged +him." +</P> + +<P> +"Run him off the reservation, eh?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"No," says Bentley, "we made him give up his ticket to our annual +Sunday school picnic. He was never the same after that." +</P> + +<P> +Well, say, I had it on the card to blow Bentley to a Welsh rabbit after +the show, at some place where he could get a squint at a bunch of our +night bloomin' summer girls, but I changed the program. I took him +away durin' intermission, in time to dodge the new dancer that Broadway +was tryin' hard to be shocked by, and after we'd had a plate of ice +cream in one of them celluloid papered all-nights, I led Bentley back +to the hotel and tipped a bell hop a quarter to tuck him in bed. +</P> + +<P> +Somehow, I didn't feel just right about the way I'd been stringin' +Bentley. I hadn't started out to do it, either; but he took things in +so easy, and was so willin' to stand for anything, that I couldn't keep +from it. And it did seem a shame that he must go back without any tall +yarns to spring. Honest, I was so twisted up in my mind, thinkin' +about Bentley, that I couldn't go to sleep, so I sat out on the front +steps of the boardin' house for a couple of hours, chewin' it all over. +I was just thinkin' of telephonin' to the hotel chaplain to call on +Bentley in the mornin', when me friend Barney, the rounds, comes along. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, Shorty," says he, "didn't I see you driftin' around town earlier +in the evenin' with a young sport in mornin' glory clothes?" +</P> + +<P> +"He was no sport," says I. "That was Bentley. He's a Y. M. C. A. lad +in disguise." +</P> + +<P> +"It's a grand disguise," says Barney. "Your quiet friend is sure +livin' up to them clothes." +</P> + +<P> +"You're kiddin'," says I. "It would take a live one to do credit to +that harness. When I left Bentley at half-past ten he was in the +elevator on his way up to bed." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want to meet any that's more alive than your Bentley," says +he. "There must have been a hole in the roof. Anyway, he shows up on +my beat about eleven, picks out a swell café, butts into a party of +soubrettes, flashes a thousand dollar bill, and begins to buy wine for +everyone in sight. Inside of half an hour he has one of his new made +lady friends doin' a high kickin' act on the table, and when the +manager interferes Bentley licks two waiters to a standstill and does +up the house detective with a chair. Why, I has to get two of my men +to help me gather him in. You can find him restin' around to the +station house now." +</P> + +<P> +"Barney," says I, "you must be gettin' colour blind. That can't be +Bentley." +</P> + +<P> +"You go around and take a look at him," says he. +</P> + +<P> +Well, just to satisfy Barney, I did. And say, it was Bentley, all +right! He was some mussed, but calm and contented. +</P> + +<P> +"Bentley," says I, reprovin' like, "you're a bird, you are! How did it +happen? Did some one drug you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Guess that ice cream must have gone to my head," says he, grinnin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Come off!" says I. "I've had a report on you, and from what you've +got aboard you ought to be as full as a goat." +</P> + +<P> +He wa'n't, though. He was as sober as me, and that after absorbin' a +quart or so of French foam. +</P> + +<P> +"If I can fix it so's to get you out on bail," says I, "will you quit +this red paint business and be good?" +</P> + +<P> +"G'wan!" says he. "I'd rather stay here than go around with you any +more. You put me asleep, you do, and I can get all the sleep I want +without a guide. Chase yourself!" +</P> + +<P> +I was some sore on Bentley by that time; but I went to court the next +mornin', when he paid his fine and was turned adrift. I starts in with +some good advice, but Bentley shuts me off quick. +</P> + +<P> +"Cut it out!" says he. "New York may seem like a hot place to Rubes +like you; but you can take it from me that, for a pure joy producer, +Palopinto has got it burned to a blister. Why, there's more doing on +some of our back streets than you can show up on the whole length of +Broadway. No more for me! I'm goin' back where I can spend my money +and have my fun without bein' stopped and asked to settle before I've +hardly got started." +</P> + +<P> +He was dead in earnest, too. He'd got on a train headed West before I +comes out of my dream. Then I begins to see a light. It was a good +deal of a shock to me when it did come, but I has to own up that +Bentley was a ringer. All that talk about mornin' prayers and Sunday +school picnics was just dope, and while I was so busy dealin' out josh, +to him, he was handin' me the lemon. +</P> + +<P> +My mouth was still puckered and my teeth on edge, when Mr. Gordon gets +me on the 'phone and wants to know how about Bentley. +</P> + +<P> +"He's come and gone," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"So soon?" says he. "I hope New York wasn't too much for him." +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all," says I; "he was too much for New York. But while you was +givin' him instructions, why didn't you tell him to make a noise like a +hornet? It might have saved me from bein' stung." +</P> + +<P> +Texas, eh? Well, say, next time I sees a map of that State I'm goin' +to hunt up Palopinto and draw a ring around it with purple ink. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IV +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE TORTONIS' STAR ACT +</H4> + +<P> +What I was after was a souse in the Sound; but say, I never know just +what's goin' to happen to me when I gets to roamin' around Westchester +County! +</P> + +<P> +I'd started out from Primrose Park to hoof it over to a little beach a +ways down shore, when along comes Dominick with his blue dump cart. +Now, Dominick's a friend of mine, and for a foreigner he's the most +entertainin' cuss I ever met. I like talkin' with him. He can make +the English language sound more like a lullaby than most of your high +priced opera singers; and as for bein' cheerful, why, he's got a pair +of eyes like sunny days. +</P> + +<P> +Course, he wears rings in his ears, and likely a seven inch knife down +the back of his neck. He ain't perfumed with violets either, when you +get right close to; but the ash collectin' business don't call for +<I>peau d'Espagne</I>, does it? +</P> + +<P> +"Hallo!" says Dominick. "You lika ride?" +</P> + +<P> +Well, I can't say I'm stuck on bein' bounced around in an ash chariot; +but I knew Dominick meant well, so in I gets. We'd been joltin' along +for about four blocks, swappin' pigeon toed conversation, when there +shows up on the road behind us the fanciest rig I've seen outside of a +circus. In front, hitched up tandem, was a couple of black and white +patchwork ponies that looked like they'd broke out of a sportin' print. +Say, with their shiny hoofs and yeller harness, it almost made your +eyes ache to look at 'em. But the buggy was part of the picture, too. +It was the dizziest ever—just a couple of upholstered settees, +balanced back to back on a pair of rubber tired wheels, with the whole +shootin' match, cushions and all, a blazin' turkey red. +</P> + +<P> +On the nigh side was a coachman, with his bandy legs cased in white +pants and yeller topped boots; and on the other—well, say! you talk +about your polka dot symphonies! Them spots was as big as quarters, +and those in the parasol matched the ones in her dress. +</P> + +<P> +I'd been gawpin' at the outfit a couple of minutes before I could see +anything but the dots, and then all of a sudden I tumbles that it's +Sadie. She finds me about the same time, and jabs her sun shade into +the small of the driver's back, to make him pull up. I tells Dominick +to haul in, too, but his old skate is on his hind legs, with his ears +pointed front, wakin' up for the first time in five years, so I has to +drop out over the tail board. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, what do you think of the rig?" says Sadie. +</P> + +<P> +"I guess me and Dominick's old crow bait has about the same thoughts +along that line," says I. "Can you blame us?" +</P> + +<P> +"It is rather giddy, isn't it?" says she. +</P> + +<P> +"'Most gave me the blind staggers," says I. "You ought to distribute +smoked glasses along the route of procession. Did you buy it some dark +night, or was it made to order after somethin' you saw in a dream?" +</P> + +<P> +"The idea!" says Sadie. "This jaunting car is one I had sent over from +Paris, to help my ponies get a blue ribbon at the Hill'n'dale horse +show. And that's what it did, too." +</P> + +<P> +"Blue ribbon!" says I. "The judges must have been colour blind." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I don't know," says Sadie, stickin' her tongue out at me. "After +that I've a good notion to make you walk." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know as I'd have nerve enough to ride in that, anyway," says +I. "Is it a funeral you're goin' to?" +</P> + +<P> +"Next thing to it," says she. "But come on, Shorty; get aboard and +I'll tell you all about it." +</P> + +<P> +So I steps up alongside the spotted silk, and the driver lets the +ponies loose. Say, it was like ridin' sideways in a roller coaster. +</P> + +<P> +Sadie said she was awful glad to see me just then. She had a job on +hand that she hated to do, and she needed some one to stand in her +corner and cheer her up while she tackled it. Seems she'd got rash a +few days before and made a promise to lug the Duke and Duchess of +Kildee over to call on the Wigghorns. Sadie'd been actin' as sort of +advance agent for Their Dukelets durin' their splurge over here, and +Mrs. Wigghorn had mesmerised her into makin' a date for a call. This +was the day. +</P> + +<P> +It would have gone through all right if some one hadn't put the Duke +wise to what he was up against. Maybe you know about the Wigghorns? +Course, they've got the goods, for about a dozen years ago old Wigghorn +choked a car patent out of some poor inventor, and his bank account's +been pyramidin' so fast ever since that now he's in the eight figure +class; but when it comes to bein' in the monkey dinner crowd, they +ain't even counted as near-silks. +</P> + +<P> +"Why," says Sadie, "I've heard that they have their champagne standing +in rows on the sideboard, and that they serve charlotte russe for +breakfast!" +</P> + +<P> +"That's an awful thing to repeat," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, well," says she, "Mrs. Wigghorn's a good natured soul, and I do +think the Duke might have stood her for an afternoon. He wouldn't +though, and now I've got to go there and call it off, just as she's got +herself into her diamond stomacher, probably, to receive them." +</P> + +<P> +"You couldn't ring in a couple of subs?" says I. For a minute Sadie's +blue eyes lights up like I'd passed her a plate of peach ice cream. +"If I only could!" says she. Then she shakes her head. "No," she +says, "I should hate to lie. And, anyway, there's no one within reach +who could play their parts." +</P> + +<P> +"That bein' the case," says I, "it looks like you'd have to go ahead +and break the sad news. What do you want me to do—hold a bucket for +the tears?" +</P> + +<P> +Sadie said all she expected of me was to help her forget it afterwards; +so we rolls along towards Wigghorn Arms. We'd got within a mile of +there when we meets a Greek peddler with a bunch of toy balloons on his +shoulder, and in less'n no time at all them crazy-quilt ponies was +tryin' to do back somersaults and other fool stunts. In the mix up one +of 'em rips a shoe almost off, and Mr. Coachman says he'll have to +chase back to a blacksmith shop and have it glued on. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, bother!" says Sadie. "Well, hurry up about it. We'll walk along +as far as Apawattuck Inn and wait there." +</P> + +<P> +It wa'n't much of a walk. The Apawattuck's a place where they deal out +imitation shore dinners to trolley excursionists, and fusel oil high +balls to the bubble trade. The name sounds well enough, but that ain't +satisfyin' when you're real hungry. We were only killin' time, though, +so it didn't matter. We strolled up just as fearless as though their +clam chowders was fit to eat. +</P> + +<P> +And that's what fetched us up against the Tortonis. They was well +placed, at a corner veranda table where no one could miss seein' 'em; +and, as they'd just finished a plate of chicken salad and a pint of +genuine San José claret, they was lookin' real comfortable and elegant. +</P> + +<P> +Say, to see the droop eyed way they sized us up as we makes our entry, +you'd think they was so tired doin' that sort of thing that life was +hardly worth while. You'd never guess they'd been livin' in a hall bed +room on crackers and bologna ever since the season closed, and that +this was their first real feed of the summer, on the strength of just +havin' been booked for fifty performances. He was wearin' one of them +torrid suits you see in Max Blumstein's show window, with a rainbow +band on his straw pancake, and one of these flannel collar shirts that +you button under the chin with a brass safety pin. She was sportin' a +Peter Pan peekaboo that would have made Comstock gasp. And neither of +'em had seen a pay day for the last two months. +</P> + +<P> +But it was done good, though. They had the tray jugglers standin' +around respectful, and the other guests wonderin' how two such real +House of Mirthers should happen to stray in where the best dishes on +the card wa'n't more'n sixty cents a double portion. +</P> + +<P> +Course, I ain't never been real chummy with Tortoni—his boardin' house +name's Skinny Welch, you know—but I've seen him knockin' around the +Rialto off'n on for years; so, as I goes by to the next table, I lifts +my lid and says, "Hello, Skin. How goes it?" Say, wa'n't that +friendly enough? But what kind of a come back do I get? He just humps +his eyebrows, as much as to say, "How bold some of these common folks +is gettin' to be!" and then turns the other way. Sadie and I look at +each other and swap grins. +</P> + +<P> +"What happened?" says she. +</P> + +<P> +"I had a fifteen cent lump of Hygeia passed to me," says I. "And with +the ice trust still on top, I calls it extravagant." +</P> + +<P> +"Who are the personages?" says she. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, the last reports I had of 'em," says I, "they were the Tortonis, +waitin' to do a parlour sketch on the bargain day matinée circuit; but +from the looks now I guesses they're travellin' incog—for the +afternoon, anyway." +</P> + +<P> +"How lovely!" says Sadie. +</P> + +<P> +Our seltzer lemonades come along just then, so there was business with +the straws. I'd just fished out the last piece of pineapple when Jeems +shows up on the drive with the spotted ponies and that side saddle +cart. I gave Sadie the nudge to look at the Tortonis. They had their +eyes glued to that outfit, like a couple of Hester-st. kids lookin' at +a hoky poky waggon. +</P> + +<P> +And it wa'n't no common "Oh, I wish I could swipe that" look, either. +It was a heap deeper'n that. The whole get up, from the red wheels to +the silver rosettes, must have hit 'em hard, for they held their breath +most a minute, and never moved. The girl was the first to break away. +She turns her face out towards the Sound and sighs. Say, it must be +tough to have ambitions like that, and never get nearer to 'em than now +and then a ten block hansom ride. +</P> + +<P> +About then Jeems catches Sadie's eye, and salutes with the whip. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you get it fixed?" says she. +</P> + +<P> +He says it's all done like new. +</P> + +<P> +Signor Tortoni hadn't been losin' a look nor a word, and the minute he +ties us up to them speckled ponies he maps out a change of act. Before +I could call the waiter and get my change, Tortoni was right on the +ground. +</P> + +<P> +"I beg pardon," says he, "but isn't this my old friend, Professor +McCabe?" +</P> + +<P> +"You've sure got a comin' memory, Skinny," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Why!" says he, gettin' a grip on my paw, "how stupid of me! Really, +professor, you've grown so distinguished looking that I didn't place +you at all. Why, this is a great pleasure, a very great pleasure, +indeed!" +</P> + +<P> +"Ye-e-es?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +But say, I couldn't rub it in. He was so dead anxious to connect +himself with that red cart before the crowd that I just let him spiel +away. Inside of two minutes the honours had been done all around, and +Sadie was bein' as nice to the girl as she knew how. And Sadie knows, +though! She'd heard that sigh, Sadie had; and it didn't jar me a bit +when she gives them the invite to take a little drive down the road +with us. +</P> + +<P> +Well, it was worth the money, just to watch Skinny judgin' up the house +out of the corner of his eye. I'll bet there wa'n't one in the +audience that he didn't know just how much of it they was takin' in; +and by the easy way he leaned across the seat back and chinned to +Sadie, as we got started, you'd thought he'd been brought up in one of +them carts. The madam wa'n't any in the rear, either. She was just as +much to home as if she'd been usin' up a green transfer across 34th. +If the style was new to her, or the motion gave her a tingly feelin' +down her back, she never mentioned it. +</P> + +<P> +They did lose their breath a few, though, when we struck Wigghorn Arms. +It's a whackin' big place, all fenced in with fancy iron work and +curlicue gates fourteen feet high. +</P> + +<P> +"I've just got to run in a minute and say a word to Mrs. Wigghorn," +says Sadie. "I hope you don't mind waiting?" +</P> + +<P> +Oh no, they didn't. They said so in chorus, and as we looped the loop +through the shrubbery and began to get glimpses of window awnings and +tiled roof, I could tell by the way they acted that they'd just as soon +wait inside as not. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Wigghorn wasn't takin' any chances on havin' Their Dukelets drive +up, leave their cards, and skidoo. She was right out front holdin' +down a big porch rocker, with her eyes peeled up the drive. And she +was costumed for the part. I don't know just what it was she had on, +but I've seen plush parlour suits covered with stuff like that. She's +a sizable old girl anyway, but in that rig, and with her store hair +puffed out, she loomed up like a bale of hay in a door. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, how do you do!" she squeals, makin' a swoop at Sadie as soon as +the wheels stopped turnin'. "And you did bring them along, didn't you? +Now don't say a word until I get Peter—he's just gone in to brush the +cigar ashes off his vest. We want to be presented to the Duke and +Duchess together, you know. Peter! Pe-ter!" she shouts, and in +through the front door she waddles, yellin' for the old man. +</P> + +<P> +And say, just by the look Sadie gave me I knew what was runnin' through +her head. +</P> + +<P> +"Shorty," says she, "I've a mind to do it." +</P> + +<P> +"Flag it," says. "You ain't got time." +</P> + +<P> +But there was no stoppin' her. "Listen," says she to the Tortonis. +"Can't you play Duke and Duchess of Kildee for an hour or so?" +</P> + +<P> +"What are the lines?" says Skinny. +</P> + +<P> +"You've got to improvise as you go along," says she. "Can you do it?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's a pipe for me," says he. "Flossy, do you come in on it?" +</P> + +<P> +Did she? Why, Flossy was diggin' up her English accent while he was +askin' the question, and by the time Mrs. Wigghorn got back, draggin' +Peter by the lapel of his dress coat, the Tortonis was fairly oozin' +aristocracy. It was "Chawmed, don'tcher know!" and "My word!" right +along from the drop of the hat. +</P> + +<P> +I didn't follow 'em inside, and was just as glad I didn't have to. +Sittin' out there, expectin' to hear the lid blow off, made me nervous +enough. I wasn't afraid either of 'em would go shy on front; but when +I remembered Flossy's pencilled eyebrows, and Skinny's flannel collar, +I says to myself, "That'll queer 'em as soon as they get in a good +light and there's time for the details to soak in." And I didn't know +what kind of trouble the Wigghorns might stir up for Sadie, when they +found out how bad they'd been toasted. +</P> + +<P> +It was half an hour before Sadie showed up again, and she was lookin' +merry. +</P> + +<P> +"What have they done with 'em," says I—"dropped 'em down the well?" +</P> + +<P> +Sadie snickered as she climbed in and told Jeems to whip up the team. +"Mr. and Mrs. Wigghorn," says she, "have persuaded the Duke and Duchess +to spend the week's end at Wigghorn Arms." +</P> + +<P> +"Gee!" says I. "Can they run the bluff that long?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's running itself," says Sadie. "The Wigghorns are so overcome with +the honour that they hardly know whether they're afoot or horseback; +and as for your friends, they're more British than the real articles +ever thought of being. I stayed until they'd looked through the suite +of rooms they're to occupy, and when I left they were being towed out +to the garage to pick out a touring car that suited them. They seemed +already to be bored to death, too." +</P> + +<P> +"Good!" say I. "Now maybe you'll take me over to the beach and let me +get in a quarter's worth of swim." +</P> + +<P> +"Can't you put it off, Shorty?" says she. "I want you to take the next +train into town and do an errand for me. Go to the landlady at this +number, East 15th-st., and tell her to send Mr. Tortoni's trunk by +express." +</P> + +<P> +Well, I did it. It took a ten to make the landlady loosen up on the +wardrobe, too; but considerin' the solid joy I've had, thinkin' about +Skinny and Flossy eatin' charlotte russe for breakfast, and all that, I +guess I'm gettin' a lot for my money. It ain't every day you have a +chance to elevate a vaudeville team to the peerage. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +V +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +PUTTING PINCKNEY ON THE JOB +</H4> + +<P> +Well, say, this is where we mark up one on Pinckney. And it's time +too, for he's done the grin act at me so often he was comin' to think I +was gettin' into the Slivers class. You know about Pinckney. He's the +bubble on top of the glass, the snapper on the whip lash, the sunny +spot at the club. He's about as serious as a kitten playin' with a +string, and the cares on his mind weigh 'most as heavy as an extra +rooster feather on a spring bonnet. +</P> + +<P> +That's what comes of havin' a self raisin' income, a small list of +relatives, and a moderate thirst. If anything bobs up that needs to be +worried over—like whether he's got vests enough to last through a +little trip to London and back, or whether he's doubled up on his +dates—why, he just tells his man about it, and then forgets. For a +trouble dodger he's got the little birds in the trees carryin' weight. +Pinckney's liable to show up at the Studio here every day for a week, +and then again I won't get a glimpse of him for a month. It's always +safe to expect him when you see him, and it's a waste of time wonderin' +what he'll be up to next. But one of the things I likes most about +Pinckney is that he ain't livin' yesterday or to-morrow. It's always +this A. M. with him, and the rest of the calendar takes care of itself. +</P> + +<P> +So I wa'n't any surprised, as I was doin' a few laps on the avenue +awhile back, to hear him give me the hail. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I say, Shorty!" says he, wavin' his stick. +</P> + +<P> +"Got anything on?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothin' but my clothes," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Good!" says he. "Come with me, then." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure you know where you're goin'?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +Oh, yes, he was—almost. It was some pier or other he was headed for, +and he has the number wrote down on a card—if he could find the card. +By luck he digs it up out of his cigarette case, where his man has put +it on purpose, and then he proceeds to whistle up a cab. Say, if it +wa'n't for them cabbies, I reckon Pinckney would take root somewhere. +</P> + +<P> +"Meetin' some one, or seein' 'em off?" says I, as we climbs in. +</P> + +<P> +"Hanged if I know yet," says Pinckney. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe it's you that's goin'?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no," says he. "That is, I hadn't planned to, you know. And come +to think of it, I believe I am to meet—er—Jack and Jill." +</P> + +<P> +"Names sound kind of familiar," says I. "What's the breed?" +</P> + +<P> +"What would be your guess?" says he. +</P> + +<P> +"A pair of spotted ponies," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"By Jove!" says he, "I hadn't thought of ponies." +</P> + +<P> +"Say," says I, sizin' him up to see if he was handin' me a josh, "you +don't mean to give out that you're lookin' for a brace of something to +come in on the steamer, and don't know whether they'll be tame or wild, +long haired or short, crated or live stock?" +</P> + +<P> +"Live stock!" says he, beamin'. "That's exactly the word I have been +trying to think of. That's what I shall ask for. Thanks, awfully, +Shorty, for the hint." +</P> + +<P> +"You're welcome," says I. "It looks like you need all the help along +that line you can get. Do you remember if this pair was somethin' you +sent for, or is it a birthday surprise?" +</P> + +<P> +With that he unloads as much of the tale as he's accumulated up to +date. Seems he'd just got a cablegram from some firm in London that +signs themselves Tootle, Tupper & Tootle, sayin' that Jack and Jill +would be on the <I>Lucania</I>, as per letter. +</P> + +<P> +"And then you lost the letter?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +No, he hadn't lost it, not that he knew of. He supposes that it's with +the rest of last week's mail, that he hasn't looked over yet. The +trouble was he'd been out of town, and hadn't been back more'n a day or +so—and he could read letters when there wa'n't anything else to do. +That's Pinckney, from the ground up. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not go back and get the letter now?" says I. "Then you'll know +all about Jack and Jill." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, bother!" says he. "That would spoil all the fun. Let's see what +they're like first, and read about them afterwards." +</P> + +<P> +"If it suits you," says I, "it's all the same to me. Only you won't +know whether to send for a hostler or an animal trainer." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps I'd better engage both," says Pinckney. If they'd been handy, +he would have, too; but they wa'n't, so down we sails to the pier, +where the folks was comin' ashore. +</P> + +<P> +First thing Pinckney spies after we has rushed the gangplank is a gent +with a healthy growth of underbrush on his face and a lot of gold on +his sleeves. By the way they got together, I see that they was old +friends. +</P> + +<P> +"I hear you have something on board consigned to me, Captain?" says +Pinckney. "Something in the way of live stock, eh?" and he pokes Cap +in the ribs with his cane. +</P> + +<P> +"Right you are," says Cappie, chucklin' through his whiskers. "And the +liveliest kind of live stock we ever carried, sir." +</P> + +<P> +Pinckney gives me the nudge, as much as to say he'd struck it first +crack, and then he remarks, "Ah! And where are they now?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why," says the Cap, "they were cruising around the promenade deck a +minute ago; but, Lor' bless you, sir! there's no telling where they are +now—up on the bridge, or down in the boiler room. They're a pair of +colts, those two." +</P> + +<P> +"Colts!" says Pinckney, gaspin'. "You mean ponies, don't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well, ponies or colts, it's all one. They're lively enough for +either, and—Heigho! Here they come, the rascals!" +</P> + +<P> +There's whoop and a scamper, and along the deck rushes a couple of six- +or seven-year old youngsters, that makes a dive for the Cap'n, catches +him around either leg, and almost upsets him. They was twins, and it +didn't need the kilt suits just alike and the hair boxed just the same +to show it, either. They couldn't have been better matched if they'd +been a pair of socks, and the faces of 'em was all grins and mischief. +Say, anyone with a heart in him couldn't help takin' to kids like that, +providin' they didn't take to him first. +</P> + +<P> +"Here you are, sir," says the Cap'n,—"here's your Jack and Jill, and I +wish you luck with them. It'll be a good month before I can get back +discipline aboard; but I'm glad I had the bringing of 'em over. Here +you are, you holy terrors,—here's the Uncle Pinckney you've been +howling for!" +</P> + +<P> +At that they let loose of the Cap, gives a war-whoop in chorus, and +lands on Pinckney with a reg'lar flyin' tackle, both talkin' to once. +Well say, he didn't know whether to holler for help or laugh. He just +stands there and looks foolish, while one of 'em shins up and gets an +overhand holt on his lilac necktie. +</P> + +<P> +About then I notices some one bearin' down on us from the other side of +the deck. She was one of these tall, straight, deep chested, wide eyed +girls, built like the Goddess of Liberty, and with cheeks like a bunch +of sweet peas. Say, she was all right, she was; and if it hadn't been +for the Paris clothes she was wearin' home I could have made a guess +whether she come from Denver, or Dallas, or St. Paul. Anyway, we don't +raise many of that kind in New York. She has her eyes on the +youngsters. +</P> + +<P> +"Good-bye, Jack and Jill," says she, wavin' her hand at 'em. +</P> + +<P> +But nobody gets past them kids as easy as that. They yells "Miss +Gertrude!" at her like she was a mile off, and points to Pinckney, and +inside of a minute they has towed 'em together, pushed 'em up against +the rail, and is makin' 'em acquainted at the rate of a mile a minute. +</P> + +<P> +"Pleased, I'm sure," says Miss Gerty. "Jack and Jill are great friends +of mine. I suppose you are their Uncle Pinckney." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm almost beginning to believe I am," says Pinckney. +</P> + +<P> +"Why," says she, "aren't you——" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, that's my name," says he. "Only I didn't know that I was an +uncle. Doubtless it's all right, though. I'll look it up." +</P> + +<P> +With that she eyes him like she thought he was just out of the nut +factory, and the more Pinckney tries to explain, the worse he gets +twisted. Finally he turns to the twins. "See here, youngsters," says +he, "which one of you is Jack?" +</P> + +<P> +"Me," says one of 'em. "I'se Jack." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Jack," says Pinckney, "what is your last name?" +</P> + +<P> +"Anstruther," says the kid. +</P> + +<P> +"The devil!" says Pinckney, before he could stop it. Then he begs +pardon all around. "I see," says he. "I had almost forgotten about +Jack Anstruther, though I shouldn't. So Jack is your papa, is he? And +where is Jack now?" +</P> + +<P> +Some one must have trained them to do it, for they gets their heads +together, like they was goin' to sing a hymn, rolls up their eyes, and +pipes out, "Our—papa—is—up—there." +</P> + +<P> +"The deuce you say! I wouldn't have thought it!" gasps Pinckney. "No, +no! I—I mean I hadn't heard of it." +</P> + +<P> +It was a bad break, though; but the girl sees how cut up he is about +it, and smooths everything out with a laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"I fancy Jack and Jill know very little of such things," says she; "but +they can tell you all about Marie." +</P> + +<P> +"Marie's gone!" shouts the kids. "She says we drove her crazy." +</P> + +<P> +That was the way the story come out, steady by jerks. The meat of it +was that one of Pinckney's old chums had passed in somewhere abroad, +and for some reason or other these twins of his had been shipped over +to Pinckney in care of a French governess. Between not knowing how to +herd a pair of lively ones like Jack and Jill, and her gettin' +interested in a tall gent with a lovely black moustache, Marie had kind +of shifted her job off onto the rest of the passengers, specially +Gerty, and the minute the steamer touched the dock she had rolled her +hoop. +</P> + +<P> +"Pinckney," says I, "it's you to the bat." +</P> + +<P> +He looks at the twins doubtful, then he squints at me, and next he +looks at Miss Gertrude. "By Jove!" says he. "It appears that way, +doesn't it? I wonder how long I am expected to keep them?" +</P> + +<P> +The twins didn't know; I didn't; and neither does Gerty. +</P> + +<P> +"I had planned to take a noon train west," says she; "but if you think +I could help in getting Jack and Jill ashore, I'll stay over for a few +hours." +</P> + +<P> +"Will you?" says he. "That's ripping good of you. Really, you know, I +never took care of twins before." +</P> + +<P> +"How odd!" says she, tearin' off a little laugh that sounds as if it +come out of a music box. "I suppose you will take them home?" +</P> + +<P> +"Home!" says Pinckney. Say, you'd thought he never heard the word +before. "Why—ah—er—I live at the club, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," says she. +</P> + +<P> +"Would a hotel do?" says Pinckney. +</P> + +<P> +"You might try it," says she, throwin' me a look that was all twinkles. +</P> + +<P> +Then we rounds up the kids' traps, sees to their baggage, and calls +another cab. Pinckney and the girl takes Jill, I loads Jack in with +me, and off we starts. It was a great ride. Ever try to answer all +the questions a kid of that age can think up? Say, I was three behind +and short of breath before we'd gone ten blocks. +</P> + +<P> +"Is all this America?" says Mr. Jack, pointin' up Broadway. +</P> + +<P> +"No, sonny," says I; "this is little old New York." +</P> + +<P> +"Where's America, then?" says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Around the edges," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm goin' to be president some day," says he. "Are you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not till Teddy lets go, anyway," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Who's Teddy?" says he. +</P> + +<P> +"The man behind the stick," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish I had a stick," says Jack; "then I could whip the hossie. I +wish I had suffin' to eat, too." +</P> + +<P> +"I'd give a dollar if you had," says I. +</P> + +<P> +It seems that Jill has been struck with the same idea, for pretty soon +we comes together, and Pinckney shouts that we're all goin' to have +lunch. Now, there's a lot of eatin' shops in this town; but I'll bet +Pinckney couldn't name more'n four, to save his neck, and the +Fifth-ave. joint he picks out was the one he's most used to. +</P> + +<P> +It ain't what you'd call a fam'ly place. Mostly the people who hang +out there belong to the Spender clan. It's where the thousand-dollar +tenors, and the ex-steel presidents, and the pick of the pony ballet +come for broiled birds and bottled bubbles. But that don't bother +Pinckney a bit; so we blazes right in, kids and all. The head waiter +most has a fit when he spots Pinckney towin' a twin with each hand; but +he plants us at a round table in the middle of the room, turns on the +electric light under the seashell shades, and passes out the food +programs. I looks over the card; but as there wa'n't anything entered +that I'd ever met before, I passes. Gerty, she takes a look around, +and smiles. But the twins wa'n't a bit fazed. +</P> + +<P> +"What will it be, youngsters?" says Pinckney. +</P> + +<P> +"Jam," says they. +</P> + +<P> +"Jam it is," says Pinckney, and orders a couple of jars. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you think they ought to have something besides sweets?" says +Miss Gerty. +</P> + +<P> +"Blessed if I know," says Pinckney, and he puts it up to the kids if +there wa'n't anything else they'd like. +</P> + +<P> +"Yep!" says they eagerly. "Pickles." +</P> + +<P> +That's what they had too, jam and pickles, with a little bread on the +side. Then, while we was finishin' off the grilled bones, or whatever +it was Pinckney had guessed at, they slides out of their chairs and +organises a game of tag. I've heard of a lot of queer doin's bein' +pulled off in that partic'lar caffy, but I'll bet this was the first +game of cross tag ever let loose there. It was a lively one, for the +tables was most all filled, and the tray jugglers was skatin' around +thick. That only made it all the more interestin' for the kids. +Divin' between the legs of garçons loaded down with silver and china +dishes was the best sport they'd struck in a month, and they just +whooped it up. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-078"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-078.jpg" ALT="THE TWINS ORGANIZE A GAME OF TAG" BORDER="2" WIDTH="614" HEIGHT="500"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 614px"> +THE TWINS ORGANIZE A GAME OF TAG +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +I could see the head waiter, standin' on tiptoes, watchin' 'em and +holdin' his breath. Pinckney was beginnin' to look worried too, but +Gerty was settin' there, as calm and smilin' as if they was playin' in +a vacant lot. It was easy to see she wa'n't one of the worryin' kind. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder if I shouldn't stop them?" says Pinckney. +</P> + +<P> +Before he's hardly got it out, there comes a bang and a smash, and a +fat French waiter goes down with umpteen dollars' worth of fancy grub +and dishes. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps you'd better," says Gerty. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," says I, "some of them careless waiters might fall on one of 'em." +</P> + +<P> +With that Pinckney starts after 'em, tall hat, cane, and all. The kids +see him, and take it that he's joined the game. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, here's Uncle Pinckney!" they shouts. "You're it, Uncle Pinckney!" +and off they goes. +</P> + +<P> +That sets everybody roarin'—except Pinckney. He turns a nice shade of +red, and gives it up. I guess they'd put the place all to the bad, if +Miss Gerty hadn't stood up smilin' and held her hands out to them. +They come to her like she'd pulled a string, and in a minute it was all +over. +</P> + +<P> +"Pinckney," says I, "you want to rehearse this uncle act some before +you spring it on the public again." +</P> + +<P> +"I wish I could get at that letter and find out how long this is going +to last," says he, sighin' and moppin' his noble brow. +</P> + +<P> +But if Pinckney was shy on time for letter readin' before, he had less +of it now. The three of us put in the afternoon lookin' after that +pair of kids, and we was all busy at that. Twice Miss Gerty started to +break away and go for a train; but both times Pinckney sent me to call +her back. Soon's she got on the scene everything was lovely. +</P> + +<P> +Pinckney had picked out a suite of rooms at the Waldorf, and he thought +as soon as he could get hold of a governess and a maid his troubles +would be over. But it wa'n't so easy to pick up a pair of twin +trainers. Three or four sets shows up; but when they starts to ask +questions about who the twins belongs to, and who Pinckney was, and +where Miss Gerty comes in, and what was I doin' there they gets a touch +of pneumonia in the feet. +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't casting any insinuations," says one; "but I never have been +mixed up in a kidnapping case before, and I guess I won't begin now." +</P> + +<P> +"The sassy thing!" says I, as she bangs the door. +</P> + +<P> +Pinckney looks stunned; but Miss Gerty only laughs. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps you'd better let me go out and find some one," says she. "And +maybe I'll stay over for a day." +</P> + +<P> +While she was gone Pinckney gets me to take a note up to his man, +tellin' him to overhaul the mail and send all the London letters down. +That took me less'n an hour, but when I gets back to the hotel I finds +Pinckney with furrows in his brow, tryin' to make things right with the +manager. He'd only left the twins locked up in the rooms for ten +minutes or so, while he goes down for some cigarettes and the afternoon +papers; but before he gets back they've rung up everything, from the +hall maids to the fire department, run the bath tub over, and rigged +the patent fire escapes out of the window. +</P> + +<P> +"Was it you that was tellin' about not wantin' to miss any fun?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't rub it in, Shorty," says he. "Did you get that blamed Tootle +letter?" +</P> + +<P> +He grabs it eager. "Now," says he, "we'll see who these youngsters are +to be handed over to, and when." +</P> + +<P> +The twins had got me harnessed up to a chair, and we was havin' an +elegant time, when Pinckney gives a groan and hollers for me to come in +and shut the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Shorty," says he, "what do you think? There isn't anyone else. I've +got to keep them." +</P> + +<P> +Then he reads me the letter, which is from some English lawyers, sayin' +that the late Mr. Anstruther, havin' no relations, has asked that his +two children, Jack and Jill, should be sent over to his old and dear +friend, Mr. Lionel Ogden Pinckney Bruce, with the request that he act +as their guardian until they should come of age. The letter also says +that there's a wad of money in the bank for expenses. +</P> + +<P> +"And the deuce of it is, I can't refuse," says Pinckney. "Jack once +did me a good turn that I can never forget." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, this makes twice, then," says I. "But cheer up. For a +bachelor, you're doin' well, ain't you? Now all you need is an account +at the grocer's, and you're almost as good as a fam'ly man." +</P> + +<P> +"But," says he, "I know nothing about bringing up children." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you'll learn," says I. "You'll be manager of an orphan asylum +yet." +</P> + +<P> +It wa'n't until Miss Gerty shows up with a broad faced Swedish nurse +that Pinckney gets his courage back. Gerty tells him he can take the +night off, as she'll be on the job until mornin'; and Pinckney says the +thoughts of goin' back to the club never seemed quite so good to him as +then. +</P> + +<P> +"So long," says I; "but don't forget that you're an uncle." +</P> + +<P> +I has a picture of Pinckney takin' them twins by the hand, about the +second day, and headin' for some boardin' school or private home. I +couldn't help thinkin' about what a shame it was goin' to be too, for +they sure was a cute pair of youngsters—too cute to be farmed out +reckless. +</P> + +<P> +Course, though, I couldn't see Pinckney doin' anything else. Even if +he was married to one of them lady nectarines in the crowd he travels +with, and had a kid of his own, I guess it would be a case of mama and +papa havin' to be introduced to little Gwendolyn every once in awhile +by the head of the nursery department. +</P> + +<P> +Oh, I has a real good time for a few days, stewin' over them kids, and +wonderin' how they and Pinckney was comin' on. And then yesterday I +runs across the whole bunch, Miss Gerty and all, paradin' down the +avenue bound for a candy shop, the whole four of 'em as smilin' as if +they was startin' on a picnic. +</P> + +<P> +"Chee, Pinckney!" says I, "you look like you was pleased with the +amateur uncle business." +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" says he. "You ought to see how glad those youngsters are to +see me when I come in. And we have great sport." +</P> + +<P> +"Hotel people still friendly?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Why," says he, "I believe there have been a few complaints. But we'll +soon be out of that. I've leased a country house for the summer, you +know." +</P> + +<P> +"A house!" says I. "You with a house! Who'll run it?" +</P> + +<P> +"S-s-s-sh!" says he, pullin' me one side and talkin' into my ear. "I'm +going West to-night, to bring on her mother, and——" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I see," says I. "You're goin' to offer Gerty the job?" +</P> + +<P> +Pinckney gets a colour on his cheek bones at that. "She's a charming +girl, Shorty," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"She's nothin' less," says I; "and them twins are all right too. But +say, Pinckney, I'll bet you never meet a steamer again without knowin' +all about why you're there. Eh?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +VI +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE SOARING OF THE SAGAWAS +</H4> + +<P> +Well, I've been doin' a little more circulatin' among the fat-wads. +It's gettin' to be a reg'lar fad with me. And say, I used to think +they was a simple lot; but I don't know as they're much worse than some +others that ain't got so good an excuse. +</P> + +<P> +I was sittin' on my front porch, at Primrose Park, when in rolls that +big bubble of Sadie's, with her behind the plate glass and rubber. +</P> + +<P> +"But I thought you was figurin' in that big house party out to Breeze +Acres," says I, "where they've got a duchess on exhibition?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's the duchess I'm running away from," says Sadie. +</P> + +<P> +"You ain't gettin' stage fright this late in the game, are you?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Hardly," says she. "I'm bored, though. The duchess is a frost. She +talks of nothing but her girls' charity school and her complexion +baths. Thirty of us have been shut up with her for three days now, and +we know her by heart. Pinckney asked me to drop around and see if I +could find you. He says he's played billiards and poker until he's +lost all the friends he ever had, and that if he doesn't get some +exercise soon he'll die of indigestion. Will you let me take you over +for the night?" +</P> + +<P> +Well, I've monkeyed with them swell house parties before, and generally +I've dug up trouble at 'em; but for the sake of Pinckney's health I +said I'd take another chance; so in I climbs, and we goes zippin' off +through the mud. Sadie hadn't told me more'n half the cat-scraps the +women had pulled off durin' them rainy days before we was 'most there. +</P> + +<P> +Just as we slowed up to turn into the private road that leads up to +Breeze Acres, one of them dinky little one-lunger benzine buggies comes +along, missin' forty explosions to the minute and coughin' itself to +death on a grade you could hardly see. All of a sudden somethin' goes +off. Bang! and the feller that was jugglin' the steerin' bar throws up +both hands like he'd been shot with a ripe tomato. +</P> + +<P> +"Caramba!" says he. "Likewise gadzooks!" as the antique quits movin' +altogether. +</P> + +<P> +I'd have known that lemon-coloured pair of lip whiskers anywhere. +Leonidas Dodge has the only ones in captivity. I steps out of the +show-case in time to see mister man lift off the front lid and shove +his head into the works. +</P> + +<P> +"Is the post mortem on?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"By the beard of the prophet!" says he, swingin' around, "Shorty +McCabe!" +</P> + +<P> +"Much obliged to meet you," says I, givin' him the grip. "The +Electro-Polisho business must be boomin'," says I, "when you carry it +around in a gasoline coach. But go on with your autopsy. Is it +locomotor ataxia that ails the thing, or cirrhosis of the sparkin' +plug?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's nearer senile dementia," says he. "Gaze on that piece of +mechanism, Shorty. There isn't another like it in the country." +</P> + +<P> +"I can believe that," says I. +</P> + +<P> +For an auto it was the punkiest ever. No two of the wheels was mates +or the same size; the tires was bandaged like so many sore throats; the +front dasher was wabbly; one of the side lamps was a tin stable +lantern; and the seat was held on by a couple of cleats knocked off the +end of a packing box. +</P> + +<P> +"Looks like it had seen some first-aid repairin'," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Some!" says Leonidas. "Why, I've nailed this relic together at least +twice a week for the last two months. I've used waggon bolts, nuts +borrowed from wayside pumps, pieces of telephone wire, and horseshoe +nails. Once I ran twenty miles with the sprocket chain tied up with +twine. And yet they say that the age of miracles has passed! It would +need a whole machine shop to get her going again," says he. "I'll +await until my waggons come up, and then we'll get out the tow rope." +</P> + +<P> +"Waggons!" says I. "You ain't travellin' with a retinue, are you?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's the exact word for it," says he. And then Leonidas tells me +about the Sagawa aggregation. Ever see one of these medicine shows? +Well, that's what Leonidas had. He was sole proprietor and managing +boss of the outfit. +</P> + +<P> +"We carry eleven people, including drivers and canvas men," says he, +"and we give a performance that the Proctor houses would charge +seventy-five a head for. It's all for a dime, too—quarter for +reserved—and our gentlemanly ushers offer the Sagawa for sale only +between turns." +</P> + +<P> +"You talk like a three-sheet poster," says I. "Where you headed for +now?" +</P> + +<P> +"We're making a hundred-mile jump up into the mill towns," says he, +"and before we've worked up as far as Providence I expect we'll have to +carry the receipts in kegs." +</P> + +<P> +That was Leonidas, all over; seein' rainbows when other folks would be +predictin' a Johnstown flood. Just about then, though, the bottom +began to drop out of another cloud, so I lugged him over to the big +bubble and put him inside. +</P> + +<P> +"Sadie," says I, "I want you to know an old side pardner of mine. His +name's Leonidas Dodge, or used to be, and there's nothing yellow about +him but his hair." +</P> + +<P> +And say, Sadie hadn't more'n heard about the Sagawa outfit than she +begins to smile all over her face; so I guesses right off that she's +got tangled up with some fool idea. +</P> + +<P> +"It would be such a change from the duchess if we could get Mr. Dodge +to stop over at Breeze Acres to-night and give his show," says Sadie. +</P> + +<P> +"Madam," says Leonidas, "your wishes are my commands." +</P> + +<P> +Sadie kept on grinnin' and plannin' out the program, while Leonidas +passed out his high English as smooth as a demonstrator at a food show. +Inside of ten minutes they has it all fixed. Then Sadie skips into the +little gate cottage, where the timekeeper lives, and calls up Pinckney +on the house 'phone. And say! what them two can't think of in the way +of fool stunts no one else can. +</P> + +<P> +By the time she'd got through, the Sagawa aggregation looms up on the +road. There was two four-horse waggons. The front one had a tarpaulin +top, and under cover was a bunch of the saddest lookin' actorines and +specialty people you'd want to see. They didn't have life enough to +look out when the driver pulled up. The second waggon carried the +round top and poles. +</P> + +<P> +"Your folks look as gay as a gang startin' off to do time on the +island," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"They're not as cheerful as they might be, that's a fact," says +Leonidas. +</P> + +<P> +It didn't take him long to put life into 'em, though. When he'd give +off a few brisk orders they chirked up amazin'. They shed their rain +coats for spangled jackets, hung out a lot of banners, and uncased a +lot of pawnshop trombones and bass horns and such things. "All up for +the grand street parade!" sings out Leonidas. +</P> + +<P> +For an off-hand attempt, it wa'n't so slow. First comes Pinckney, +ridin' a long-legged huntin' horse and keepin' the rain off his red +coat with an umbrella. Then me and Sadie in her bubble, towin' the +busted one-lunger behind. Leonidas was standin' up on the seat, +wearin' his silk hat and handlin' a megaphone. Next came the band +waggon, everybody armed with some kind of musical weapon, and tearin' +the soul out of "The Merry Widow" waltz, in his own particular way. +The pole waggon brings up the rear. +</P> + +<P> +Pinckney must have spread the news well, for the whole crowd was out on +the front veranda to see us go past. And say, when Leonidas sizes up +the kind of folks that was givin' him the glad hand, he drops the +imitation society talk that he likes to spout, and switches to straight +Manhattanese. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well, well! Here we are!" he yells through the megaphone. "The +only original Sagawa show on the road, remember! Come early, gents, +and bring your lady friends. The doors of the big tent will open at +eight o'clock—eight o'clock—and at eight-fifteen Mlle. Peroxide, the +near queen of comedy, will cut loose on the coon songs." +</P> + +<P> +"My word!" says the duchess, as she squints through her glasses at the +aggregation. +</P> + +<P> +But the rest of the guests was just ripe for something of the kind. +Mrs. Curlew Brassett, who'd almost worried herself sick at seein' her +party put on the blink by a shop-worn exhibit on the inside and rain on +the out, told Pinckney he could have the medicine tent pitched in the +middle of her Italian garden, if he wanted to. They didn't, though. +They stuck up the round top on the lawn just in front of the stables, +and they hadn't much more'n lit the gasolene flares before the folks +begins to stroll out and hit up the ticket waggon. +</P> + +<P> +"It's the first time I ever had the nerve to charge two dollars a throw +for perches on the blue boards," says Leonidas; "but that friend of +yours, Mr. Pinckney, wanted me to make it five." +</P> + +<P> +Anyway, it was almost worth the money. Mlle. Peroxide, who did the +high and lofty with a job lot of last year coon songs, owned a voice +that would have had a Grand-st. banana huckster down and out; the +monologue man was funny only when he didn't mean to be; and the +black-face banjoist was the limit. Then there was a juggler, and +Montana Kate, who wore buckskin leggins and did a fake rifle-shootin' +act. +</P> + +<P> +I tried to head Leonidas off from sendin' out his tent men, rigged up +in red flannel coats, to sell bottled Sagawa; but he said Pinckney had +told him to be sure and do it. They were birds, them "gentlemanly +ushers." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll bet I know where you picked up a lot of 'em," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Where?" says Leonidas. +</P> + +<P> +"Off the benches in City Hall park," I says. +</P> + +<P> +"All but one," says he, "and he had just graduated from Snake Hill. +But you didn't take this for one of Frohman's road companies, did you?" +</P> + +<P> +They unloaded the Sagawa, though. The audience wasn't missin' +anything, and most everyone bought a bottle for a souvenir. +</P> + +<P> +"It's the great Indian liver regulator and complexion beautifier," says +Leonidas in his business talk. "It removes corns, takes the soreness +out of stiff muscles, and restores the natural colour to grey hair. +Also, ladies and gents, it can be used as a furniture polish, while a +few drops in the bath is better than a week at Hot Springs." +</P> + +<P> +He was right to home, Leonidas was, and it was a joy to see him. He'd +got himself into a wrinkled dress suit, stuck an opera hat on the back +of his head, and he jollied along that swell mob just as easy as if +they'd been factory hands. And they all seemed glad they'd come. +After it was over Pinckney says that it was too bad to keep such a good +thing all to themselves, and he wants me to see if Leonidas wouldn't +stay and give grand matinée performance next day. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell him I'll guarantee him a full house," says Pinckney. +</P> + +<P> +Course, Leonidas didn't need any coaxin'. "But I wish you'd find out +if there isn't a butcher's shop handy," says he. "You see, we were up +against it for a week or so, over in Jersey, and the rations ran kind +of low. In fact, all we've had to live on for the last four days has +been bean soup and pilot bread, and the artists are beginning to +complain. Now that I've got a little real money, I'd like to buy a few +pounds of steak. I reckon the aggregation would sleep better after a +hot supper." +</P> + +<P> +I lays the case before Pinckney and Sadie, and they goes straight for +Mrs. Brassett. And say! before eleven-thirty they had that whole +outfit lined up in the main dinin'-room before such a feed as most of +'em hadn't ever dreamed about. There was everything, from chilled +olives to hot squab, with a pint of fizz at every plate. +</P> + +<P> +Right after breakfast Pinckney began warmin' the telephone wires, +callin' up everyone he knew within fifteen miles. And he sure did a +good job. While he was at that I strolls out to the tent to have a +little chin with Leonidas, and I discovers him up to the neck in +trouble. He was backed up against the centre pole, and in front of him +was the whole actorette push, all jawin' at once, and raisin' seven +different kinds of ructions. +</P> + +<P> +"Excuse me for buttin' in," says I; "but I thought maybe this might be +a happy family." +</P> + +<P> +"It ought to be, but it ain't," says Leonidas. "Just listen to 'em." +</P> + +<P> +And say, what kind of bats do you think had got into their belfries? +Seems they'd heard about the two-dollar-a-head crowd that was comin' to +the matinée. That, and bein' waited on by a butler at dinner the night +before, had gone to the vacant spot where their brains ought to be. +They were tellin' Leonidas that if they were goin' to play to Broadway +prices they were goin' to give Broadway acts. +</P> + +<P> +Mlle. Peroxide allowed that she would cut out the rag time and put in a +few choice selections from grand opera. Montana Kate hears that, and +sheds the buckskin leggins. No rifle shootin' for her; not much! She +had Ophelia's lines down pat, and she meant to give 'em or die in the +attempt. The black-face banjoist says he can impersonate Sir Henry +Irving to the life; and the juggler guy wants to show 'em how he can +eat up the Toreador song. +</P> + +<P> +"These folks want somethin' high-toned," says Mlle. Peroxide, "and this +is the chance of a lifetime for me to fill the bill. I'd been doin' +grand opera long ago if it hadn't been for the trust." +</P> + +<P> +"They told me at the dramatic school in Dubuque that I ought to stick +to Shakespeare," says Montana Kate, "and here's where I get my hooks +in." +</P> + +<P> +"You talk to 'em, Shorty," says Leonidas; "I'm hoarse." +</P> + +<P> +"Not me," says I. "I did think you was a real gent, but I've changed +my mind, Mr. Dodge. Anyone who'll tie the can to high-class talent the +way you're tryin' to do is nothin' less'n a fiend in human form." +</P> + +<P> +"There, now!" says the blondine. +</P> + +<P> +Leonidas chucks the sponge. "You win," says he, "I'll let you all take +a stab at anything you please, even if it comes to recitin' 'Ostler +Joe'; but I'll be blanked if I shut down on selling Sagawa!" +</P> + +<P> +Two minutes later they were turnin' trunks upside down diggin' out +costumes to fit. As soon as they began to rehearse, Leonidas goes +outside and sits down behind the tent, holdin' his face in his hands, +like he had the toothache. +</P> + +<P> +"It makes me ashamed of my kind," says he. "Why, they're rocky enough +for a third-rate waggon show, and I supposed they knew it; but I'll be +hanged if every last one of 'em don't think they've got Sothern or +Julia Marlowe tied in a knot. Shorty, it's human nature glimpses like +this that makes bein' an optimist hard work." +</P> + +<P> +"They're a bug-house bunch; all actors are," says I. "You can't change +'em, though." +</P> + +<P> +"I wish I wasn't responsible for this lot," says he. +</P> + +<P> +He was feelin' worse than ever when the matinée opens. It had stopped +rainin' early in the mornin', and all the cottagers for miles around +had come over to see what new doin's Pinckney had hatched up. There +was almost a capacity house when Leonidas steps out on the stage to +announce the first turn. I knew he had more green money in his clothes +that minute than he'd handled in a month before, but he acted as +sheepish as if he was goin' to strike 'em for a loan. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish to call the attention of the audience," says he, "to a few +changes of program. Mlle. Peroxide, who is billed to sing coon songs, +will render by her own request the jewel song from 'Faust,' and two +solos from 'Lucia di Lammermoor.'" +</P> + +<P> +And say, she did it! Anyways, them was what she aimed at. For awhile +the crowd held its breath, tryin' to believe it was only a freight +engine whistlin' for brakes, or somethin' like that. Then they began +to grin. Next some one touched off a giggle, and after that they +roared until they were wipin' away the tears. +</P> + +<P> +Leonidas don't look quite so glum when he comes out to present the +reformed banjoist as Sir Henry Irving. He'd got his cue, all right, +and he hands out a game of talk about delayed genius comin' to the +front that tickled the folks clear through. The guy never seemed to +drop that he was bein' handed the lemon, and he done his worst. +</P> + +<P> +I thought they'd used up all the laughs they had in 'em, but Montana +Kate as Ophelia set 'em wild again. Maybe you've seen amateurs that +was funny, but you never see anything to beat that combination. +Amateurs are afraid to let themselves loose, but not that bunch. They +were so sure of bein' the best that ever happened in their particular +lines that they didn't even know the crowd was givin' 'em the ha-ha +until they'd got through. +</P> + +<P> +Anyway, as a rib tickler that show was all to the good. The folks +nearly mobbed Pinckney, tellin' him what a case he was to think up such +an exhibition, and he laid it all to Sadie and me. +</P> + +<P> +Only the duchess didn't exactly seem to connect with the joke. She sat +stolidly through the whole performance in a kind of a daze, and then +afterwards she says: "It wasn't what I'd call really clever, you know; +but, my word! the poor things tried hard enough." +</P> + +<P> +Just before I starts for home I hunts up Leonidas. He was givin' +orders to his boss canvasman when I found him, and feelin' the pulse of +his one-lunger, that Mrs. Brassett's chauffeur had tinkered up. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Leonidas," says I, "are you goin' to put the Shakespeare-Sagawa +combination on the ten-twenty-thirt circuit?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not if I can prove an alibi," says he. "I've just paid a week's +advance salary to that crowd of Melbas and Booths, and told 'em to go +sign contracts with Frohman and Hammerstein. I may be running a +medicine show, but I've got some professional pride left. Now I'm +going back to New York and engage an educated pig and a troupe of +trained dogs to fill out the season." +</P> + +<P> +The last I saw of Montana Kate she was pacin' up and down the station +platform, readin' a copy of "Romeo and Juliet." Ain't they the +pippins, though? +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +VII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +RINKEY AND THE PHONY LAMP +</H4> + +<P> +Say, for gettin' all the joy that's comin' to you, there's nothin' like +bein' a mixer. The man who travels in one class all the time misses a +lot. And I sure was mixin' it when I closes with Snick Butters and Sir +Hunter Twiggle all in the same day. +</P> + +<P> +Snick had first place on the card. He drifts into the Studio early in +the forenoon, and when I sees the green patch over the left eye I knows +what's comin'. He's shy of a lamp on that side, you know—uses the +kind you buy at the store, when he's got it; and when he ain't got it, +he wants money. +</P> + +<P> +I s'pose if I was wise I'd scratched Snick off my list long ago; but +knowin' him is one of the luxuries I've kept up. You know how it is +with them old time friends you've kind of outgrown but hate to chuck in +the discard, even when they work their touch as reg'lar as rent bills. +</P> + +<P> +But Snick and me played on the same block when we was kids, and there +was a time when I looked for Snick to be boostin' me, 'stead of me +boostin' him. He's one of the near-smarts that you're always expectin' +to make a record, but that never does. Bright lookin' boy, neat +dresser, and all that, but never stickin' to one thing long enough to +make good. You've seen 'em. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, Snick!" says I, as he levels the single barrel on me. "I see +you've pulled down the shade again. What's happened to that memorial +window of yours this time?" +</P> + +<P> +"Same old thing," says he. "It's in at Simpson's for five, and a +bookie's got the five." +</P> + +<P> +"And now you want to negotiate a second mortgage, eh?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +That was the case. He tells me his newest job is handlin' the josh +horn on the front end of one of these Rube waggons, and just because +the folks from Keokuk and Painted Post said that lookin' at the patch +took their minds off seein' the skyscrapers, the boss told him he'd +have to chuck it or get the run. +</P> + +<P> +"He wouldn't come across with a five in advance, either," says Snick. +"How's that for the granite heart?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's like other tales of woe I've heard you tell," says I, "and +generally they could be traced to your backin' three kings, or gettin' +an inside tip on some beanery skate." +</P> + +<P> +"That's right," says he, "but never again. I've quit the sportin' life +for good. Just the same, if I don't show up on the waggon for the +'leven o'clock trip I'll be turned loose. If you don't believe it +Shorty, I'll——" +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, don't go callin' any notary publics," says I. "Here's the V to +take up that ticket. But say, Snick; how many times do I have to buy +out that eye before I get an equity in it?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's yours now; honest, it is," says he. "If you say so, I'll write +out a bill of sale." +</P> + +<P> +"No," says I, "your word goes. Do you pass it?" +</P> + +<P> +He said he did. +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks," says I. "I always have thought that was a fine eye, and I'm +proud to own it. So long, Snick." +</P> + +<P> +There's one good thing about Snick Butters; after he's made his touch +he knows enough to fade; don't hang around and rub it in, or give you a +chance to wish you hadn't been so easy. It's touch and go with him, +and before I'd got out the last of my remarks he was on his way. +</P> + +<P> +It wa'n't more'n half josh, though, that I was givin' him about that +phony pane of his. It was a work of art, one of the bright blue kind. +As a general thing you can always spot a bought eye as far as you can +see it, they're so set and stary. But Snick got his when he was young +and, bein' a cute kid, he had learned how to use it so well that most +folks never knew the difference. He could do about everything but see +with it. +</P> + +<P> +First off he'd trained it to keep pace with the other, movin' 'em +together, like they was natural; but whenever he wanted to he could +make the glass one stand still and let the other roam around. He +always did that on Friday afternoons when he got up to speak pieces in +the grammar school. And it was no trick at all for him to look wall +eyed one minute, cross eyed the next, and then straighten 'em out with +a jerk of his head. Maybe if it hadn't been for that eye of Snick's +I'd have got further'n the eighth grade. +</P> + +<P> +His star performance, though, was when he did a jugglin' act keepin' +three potatoes in the air. He'd follow the murphies with his good eye +and turn the other one on the audience, and if you didn't know how it +was done, it would give you the creeps up and down the back, just +watchin' him. +</P> + +<P> +Say, you'd thought a feller with talent like that would have made a +name for himself, wouldn't you? Tryin' to be a sport was where Snick +fell down, though. He had the blood, all right, but no head. Why when +we used to play marbles for keeps, Snick would never know when to quit. +He'd shoot away until he'd lost his last alley, and then he'd pry out +that glass eye of his and chuck it in the ring for another go. Many a +time Snick's gone home wearin' a striped chiny or a pink stony in place +of the store eye, and then his old lady would chase around lookin' for +the kid that had won it off'm him. There's such a thing as bein' too +good a loser; but you could never make Snick see it. +</P> + +<P> +Well, I'd marked up five to the bad on my books, and then Swifty Joe +and me had worked an hour with a couple of rockin' chair commodores +from the New York Yacht Club, gettin' 'em in shape to answer Lipton's +batch of spring challenges, when Pinckney blows in, towin' a tubby, red +faced party in a frock coat and a silk lid. +</P> + +<P> +"Shorty," says he, "I want you to know Sir Hunter Twiggle. Sir Hunter, +this is the Professor McCabe you've heard about." +</P> + +<P> +"If you heard it from Pinckney," says I, "don't believe more'n half of +it." With that we swaps the grip, and he says he's glad to meet up +with me. +</P> + +<P> +But say, he hadn't been in the shop two minutes 'fore I was next to the +fact that he was another who'd had to mate up his lamps with a specimen +from the glass counter. +</P> + +<P> +"They must be runnin' in pairs," thinks I. "This'd be a good time to +draw to three of a kind." +</P> + +<P> +Course, I didn't mention it, but I couldn't keep from watchin' how +awkward he handled his'n, compared to the smooth way Snick could do it. +I guess Pinckney must have spotted me comin' the steady gaze, for +pretty soon he gets me one side and whispers, "Don't appear to notice +it." +</P> + +<P> +"All right," says I; "I'll look at his feet." +</P> + +<P> +"No, no," says Pinckney, "just pretend you haven't discovered it. He's +very sensitive on the subject—thinks no one knows, and so on." +</P> + +<P> +"But it's as plain as a gold tooth," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"I know," says Pinckney; "but humour him. He's the right sort." +</P> + +<P> +Pinckney wa'n't far off, either. For a gent that acted as though he'd +been born wearin' a high collar and a shiny hat, Sir Twiggle wasn't so +worse. Barrin' the stiffenin', which didn't wear off at all, he was a +decent kind of a haitch eater. Bein' dignified was something he +couldn't help. You'd never guessed, to look at him, that he'd ever +been mixed up in anything livelier'n layin' a church cornerstone, but +it leaks out that he had been through all kinds of scraps in India, +comes from the same stock as the old Marquis of Queensberry, and has +followed the ring more or less himself. +</P> + +<P> +"I had the doubtful honour," says he, bringin' both eyes into range on +me, "of backing a certain Mr. Palmer, whom we sent over here several +years ago after a belt." +</P> + +<P> +"He got more'n one belt," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Quite so," says he, almost crackin' a smile; "one belt too many, I +fancy." +</P> + +<P> +Say, that was a real puncherino, eh? I ain't sure but what he got off +more along the same line, for some of them British kind is hard to know +unless you see 'em printed in the joke column. Anyway, we has quite a +chin, and before he left we got real chummy. +</P> + +<P> +He had a right to be feelin' gay, though; for he'd come over to marry a +girl with more real estate deeds than you could pack in a trunk. Some +kin of Pinckney's, this Miss Cornerlot was; a sort of faded flower that +had hung too long on the stem. She'd run across Sir Hunter in London, +him bein' a widower that was willin' to forget, and they'd made a go of +it, nobody knew why. I judged that Pinckney was some relieved at the +prospects of placin' a misfit. He'd laid out for a little dinner at +the club, just to introduce Sir Hunter to his set and brace him up for +bein' inspected by the girl's aunt and other relations at some swell +doin's after. +</P> + +<P> +I didn't pay much attention to their program at the time. It wa'n't +any of my funeral who Pinckney married off his leftover second cousins +to; and by evenin' I'd clean forgot all about Twiggle; when Pinckney +'phones he'd be obliged if I could step around to a Broadway hotel +right off, as he's in trouble. +</P> + +<P> +Pinckney meets me just inside the plate glass merry go round. +"Something is the matter with Sir Hunter," says he, "and I can't find +out from his fool man what it is." +</P> + +<P> +"Before we gets any deeper let's clear the ground," says I. "When you +left him, was he soused, or only damp around the edges?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, it's not that at all," says Pinckney. "Sir Hunter is a +gentleman—er, with a wonderful capacity." +</P> + +<P> +"The Hippodrome tank's got that too," I says; "but there's enough fancy +drinks mixed on Broadway every afternoon to run it over." +</P> + +<P> +Sir Hunter has a set of rooms on the 'leventh floor. He wa'n't in +sight, but we digs up Rinkey. By the looks, he'd just escaped from the +chorus of a musical comedy, or else an Italian bakery. Near as I could +make out he didn't have any proper clothes on at all, but was just done +up in white buntin' that was wrapped and draped around him, like a +parlour lamp on movin' day. The spots of him that you could see, +around the back of his neck and the soles of his feet, was the colour +of a twenty-cent maduro cigar. He was spread out on the rug with his +heels toward us and his head on the sill of the door leadin' into the +next room. +</P> + +<P> +"Back up, Pinckney!" says I. "This must be a coloured prayer meetin' +we're buttin' into." +</P> + +<P> +"No, it's all right," says Pinckney. "That is Sir Hunter's man, Ringhi +Singh." +</P> + +<P> +"Sounds like a coon song," says I. "But he's no valet. He's a cook; +can't you see by the cap?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's a turban," says Pinckney. "Sir Hunter brought Ringhi from +India, and he wears his native costume." +</P> + +<P> +"Gee!" says I. "If that's his reg'lar get up, he's got Mark Twain's +Phoebe Snow outfit beat a mile. But does Rinkey always rest on his +face when he sits down?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's that position which puzzles me," says Pinckney. "All I could get +out of him was that Sahib Twiggle was in bed, and wouldn't see anyone." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, then the heathen is wise to United States talk, is he?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"He understands English, of course," says Pinckney, "but he declines to +talk." +</P> + +<P> +"That's easy fixed," says I, reachin' out and grabbin' Rinkey by the +slack of his bloomers. "Maybe his conversation works is out of kink," +and I up ends Rinkey into a chair. +</P> + +<P> +"Be careful!" Pinckney sings out. "They're treachous chaps." +</P> + +<P> +I had my eye peeled for cutlery, but he was the mildest choc'late cream +you ever saw. He slumped there on the chair, shiverin' as if he had a +chill comin' on, and rollin' his eyes like a cat in a fit. He was so +scared he didn't know the day of the month from the time of night. +</P> + +<P> +"Cheer up, Rinkey," says I, "and act sociable. Now tell the gentleman +what's ailin' your boss." +</P> + +<P> +It was like talkin' into a 'phone when the line's out of business. +Rinkey goes on sendin' Morse wireless with his teeth, and never +unloosens a word. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, Br'er Singh," says I, "you ain't gettin' any third +degree—yet! Cut out the ague act and give Mr. Pinckney the straight +talk. He's got a date here and wants to know why the gate is up." +</P> + +<P> +More silence from Rinkey. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, well," says I, "I expect it ain't etiquette to jump the outside +guard; but if we're goin' to get next to Sir Hunter, it looks like we +had to announce ourselves. Here goes!" +</P> + +<P> +I starts for the inside door; but I hadn't got my knuckles on the panel +before Rinkey was givin' me the knee tackle and splutterin' all kinds +of language. +</P> + +<P> +"Hey!" says I. "Got the cork out, have you?" +</P> + +<P> +With that Rinkey gets up and beckons us over into the far corner. +</P> + +<P> +"The lord sahib," says he, rollin' his eyes at the bed room door—"the +lord sahib desire that none should come near. He is in great anger." +</P> + +<P> +"What's he grouchy about?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"The lord sahib," says he, "will destroy to death poor Ringhi Singh if +he reveals." +</P> + +<P> +"Destroy to death is good," says I; "but it don't sound convincin'. I +think we're bein' strung." +</P> + +<P> +Pinckney has the same idea, so I gets a good grip on Rinkey's neck. +</P> + +<P> +"Come off!" says I. "As a liar you're too ambitious. You tell us +what's the matter with your boss, or I'll do things to you that'll make +bein' destroyed to death seem like fallin' on a feather bed!" +</P> + +<P> +And it come, quick. "Yes, sahib," says he. "It is that there has been +lost beyond finding the lord sahib's glorious eye." +</P> + +<P> +"Sizzlin' sisters! Another pane gone!" says I. "This must be my eye +retrievin' day, for sure." +</P> + +<P> +But Pinckney takes it mighty serious. He says that the dinner at the +club don't count for so much, but that the other affair can't be +sidetracked so easy. It seems that the girl has lived through one +throw down, when the feller skipped off to Europe just as the tie-up +was to be posted, and it wouldn't do to give her a second scare of the +same kind. +</P> + +<P> +Rinkey was mighty reluctant about goin' into details, but we gets it +out of him by degrees that the lord sahib has a habit, when he's locked +up alone, of unscrewin' the fake lamp and puttin' it away in a box full +of cotton battin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Always in great secret," says Rinkey; "for the lord sahib would not +disclose. But I have seen, which was an evil thing—oh, very evil! +To-night it was done as before; but when it was time for the return, +alas! the box was down side up on the floor and the glorious eye was +not anywhere. Search! We look into everything, under all things. +Then comes a great rage on the lord sahib, and I be sore from it in +many places." +</P> + +<P> +"That accounts for your restin' on your face, eh?" says I. "Well, +Pinckney, what now?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why," says he, "we've simply got to get a substitute eye. I'll wait +here while you go out and buy another." +</P> + +<P> +"Say, Pinckney," I says, "if you was goin' down Broadway at +eight-thirty P. M., shoppin' for glass eyes, where'd you hit first? +Would you try a china store, Or a gent's furnishin's place?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't they have them at drug stores?" says Pinckney. +</P> + +<P> +"I never seen any glass eye counters in the ones I go to," says I. And +then, right in the midst of our battin' our heads, I comes to. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, splash!" says I. "Pinckney, if anyone asks you, don't let on what +a hickory head I am. Why, I've got a glass eye that Sir Hunter can +have the loan of over night, just as well as not."' +</P> + +<P> +"You!" says Pinckney, lookin' wild. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure thing," says I. "It's a beaut, too. Can't a feller own a glass +eye without wearin' it?" +</P> + +<P> +"But where is it?" says Pinckney. +</P> + +<P> +"It's with Snick Butters," says I. "He's usin' it, I expect. Fact is, +it was built for Snick, but I hold a gilt edged first mortgage, and all +I need to do to foreclose is say the word. Come on. Just as soon as +we find Snick you can run back and fix up Sir Hunter as good as new." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you think you can find him?" says Pinckney. +</P> + +<P> +"We've got to find him," says I. "I'm gettin' interested in this game." +</P> + +<P> +Snick was holdin' down a chair in the smokin' room at the Gilsey. He +grins when he sees me, but when I puts it up to him about callin' in +the loose lens for over night his jaw drops. +</P> + +<P> +"Just my luck," says he. "Here I've got bill board seats for the +Casino and was goin' to take the newsstand girl to the show as soon as +she can get off." +</P> + +<P> +"Sorry, Snick," says I, "but this is a desperate case. Won't she stand +for the green curtain?" +</P> + +<P> +"S-s-sh!" says he. "She don't know a thing about that. I'll have to +call it off. Give me two minutes, will you?" +</P> + +<P> +That was Snick, all over—losin' out just as easy as some folks wins. +When he comes back, though, and I tells him what's doin', he says he'd +like to know just where the lamp was goin', so he could be around after +it in the mornin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure," says I. "Bring it along up with you, then, there won't be any +chance of our losin' it." +</P> + +<P> +So all three of us goes back to the hotel. Pinckney wa'n't sayin' a +word, actin' like he was kind of dazed, but watchin' Snick all the +time. As we gets into the elevator, he pulls me by the sleeve and +whispers: +</P> + +<P> +"I say, Shorty, which one is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"The south one," says I. +</P> + +<P> +It wasn't till we got clear into Sir Hunter's reception room, under the +light, that Pinckney heaves up something else. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I say!" says he, starin' at Snick. "Beg pardon for mentioning it, +but yours is a—er—you have blue eyes, haven't you, Mr. Butters?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's right," says Snick. +</P> + +<P> +"And Sir Hunter's are brown. It will never do," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, what's the odds at night?" says I. "Maybe the girl's colour +blind, anyway." +</P> + +<P> +"No," says Pinckney, "Sir Hunter would never do it. Now, if you only +knew of some one with a——" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't," says I. "Snick's the only glass eyed friend I got on my +repertoire. It's either his or none. You send Rinkey in to ask +Twiggle if a blue one won't do on a pinch." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Rinkey didn't like the sound of that program a bit, and he goes to +clawin' around my knees, beggin' me not to send him in to the lord +sahib. +</P> + +<P> +"G'wan!" says I, pushin' him off. "You make me feel as if I was bein' +measured for a pair of leggin's. Skiddo!" +</P> + +<P> +As I gives him a shove my finger catches in the white stuff he has +around his head, and it begins to unwind. I'd peeled off about a yard, +when out rolls somethin' shiny that Snick spots and made a grab for. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello!" says he. "What's this?" +</P> + +<P> +It was the stray brown, all right. That Kipling coon has had it stowed +away all the time. Well say, there was lively doin's in that room for +the next few minutes; me tryin' to get a strangle hold on Rinkey, and +him doin' his best to jump through a window, chairs bein' knocked over, +Snick hoppin' around tryin' to help, and Pinckney explainin' to Sir +Hunter through the keyhole what it was all about. +</P> + +<P> +When it was through we held a court of inquiry. And what do you guess? +That smoked Chinaman had swiped it on purpose, thinkin' if he wore it +on the back of his head he could see behind him. Wouldn't that grind +you? +</P> + +<P> +But it all comes out happy. Sir Hunter was a little late for dinner, +but he shows up two eyed before the girl, makes a hit with her folks, +and has engaged Snick to give him private lessons on how to make a fake +optic behave like the real goods. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +VIII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +PINCKNEY AND THE TWINS +</H4> + +<P> +Say, when it comes to gettin' himself tangled up in ways that nobody +ever thought of before, you can play Pinckney clear across the board. +But I never knew him to send out such a hard breathin' hurry call as +the one I got the other day. It come first thing in the mornin' too, +just about the time Pinckney used to be tearin' off the second coupon +from the slumber card. I hadn't more'n got inside the Studio door +before Swifty Joe says: +</P> + +<P> +"Pinckney's been tryin' to get you on the wire." +</P> + +<P> +"Gee!" says I, "he's stayin' up late last night! Did he leave the +number?" +</P> + +<P> +He had, and it was a sixty-cent long distance call; so the first play I +makes when I rings up is to reverse the charge. +</P> + +<P> +"That you, Shorty?" says he. "Then for goodness' sake come up here on +the next train! Will you?" +</P> + +<P> +"House afire, bone in your throat, or what?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"It's those twins," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Bad as that?" says I. "Then I'll come." +</P> + +<P> +Wa'n't I tellin' you about the pair of mated orphans that was shipped +over to him unexpected; and how Miss Gertie, the Western blush rose +that was on the steamer with 'em, helps him out? Well, the last I +hears, Pinckney is gone on Miss Gertie and gettin' farther from sight +every minute. He's planned it out to have the knot tied right away, +hire a furnished cottage for the summer, and put in the honeymoon +gettin' acquainted with the ready made family that they starts in with. +Great scheme! Suits Pinckney right down to the ground, because it's +different. He begins by accumulatin' a pair of twins, next he finds a +girl and then he thinks about gettin' married. By the way he talked, I +thought it was all settled; but hearin' this whoop for help I +suspicioned there must be some hitch. +</P> + +<P> +There wa'n't any carnation in his buttonhole when he meets me at the +station; he hasn't shaved since the day before; and there's trouble +tracks on his brow. +</P> + +<P> +"Can't you stand married life better'n this?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Married!" says he. "No such luck. I never expect to be married, +Shorty; I'm not fit." +</P> + +<P> +"Is this a decision that was handed you, or was it somethin' you found +out for yourself?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"It's my own discovery," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Then there's hope," says I. "So the twins have been gettin' you +worried, eh? Where's Miss Gertie?" +</P> + +<P> +That gives Pinckney the hard luck cue, and while we jogs along towards +his new place in the tub cart he tells me all about what's been +happenin'. First off he owns up that he's queered his good start with +Miss Gertie by bein' in such a rush to flash the solitaire spark on +her. She ain't used to Pinckney's jumpy ways. They hadn't been +acquainted much more'n a week, and he hadn't gone through any of the +prelim's, when he ups and asks her what day it will be and whether she +chooses church or parsonage. Course she shies at that, and the next +thing Pinckney knows she's taken a train West, leavin' him with the +twins on his hands, and a nice little note sayin' that while she +appreciates the honour she's afraid he won't do. +</P> + +<P> +"And you're left at the post?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," says he. "I couldn't take the twins and follow her, but I could +telegraph. My first message read like this, 'What's the matter with +me?' Here is her answer to that," and he digs up a yellow envelope +from his inside pocket. +</P> + +<P> +"Not domestic enough. G." It was short and crisp. +</P> + +<P> +He couldn't give me his come back to that, for he said it covered three +blanks; but it was meant to be an ironclad affidavit that he could be +just as domestic as the next man, if he only had a chance. +</P> + +<P> +"And then?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Read it," says he, handin' over Exhibit Two. +</P> + +<P> +"You have the chance now," it says. "Manage the twins for a month, and +I will believe you." +</P> + +<P> +And that was as far as he could get. Now, first and last, I guess +there's been dozens of girls, not countin' all kinds of widows, that's +had their lassoes out for Pinckney. He's been more or less interested +in some; but when he really runs across one that's worth taggin' she +does the sudden duck and runs him up against a game like this. +</P> + +<P> +"And you're tryin' to make good, eh?" says I. "What's your program?" +</P> + +<P> +For Pinckney, he hadn't done so worse. First he hunts up the only aunt +he's got on his list. She's a wide, heavy weight old girl, that's lost +or mislaid a couple of husbands, but hasn't ever had any kids of her +own, and puts in her time goin' to Europe and comin' back. She was +just havin' the trunks checked for Switzerland when Pinckney locates +her and tells how glad he is to see her again. Didn't she want to +change her plans and stay a month or so with him and the twins at some +nice place up in Westchester? One glimpse of Jack and Jill with their +comp'ny manners on wins her. Sure, she will! +</P> + +<P> +So it's tip to Pinckney to hire a happy home for the summer, all found. +Got any idea of how he tackles a job like that? Most folks would take +a week off and do a lot of travelling sizin' up different joints. +They'd want to know how many bath rooms, if there was malaria, and all +about the plumbin', and what the neighbours was like. But livin' at +the club don't put you wise to them tricks. Pinckney, he just rings up +a real estate agent, gets him to read off a list, says, "I'll take No. +3," and it's all over. Next day they move out. +</P> + +<P> +Was he stung? Well, not so bad as you'd think. Course, he's stuck +about two prices for rent, and he signs a lease without readin' farther +than the "Whereas"; but, barrin' a few things like haircloth furniture +and rooms that have been shut up so long they smell like the subcellars +in a brewery, he says the ranch wa'n't so bad. The outdoors was good, +anyway. There was lots of it, acres and acres, with trees, and flower +gardens, and walks, and fish ponds, and everything you could want for a +pair of youngsters that needed room. I could see that myself. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, Pinckney," says I, as we drives in through the grounds, "if you +can't get along with Jack and Jill in a place of this kind you'd better +give up. Why, all you got to do is to turn 'em loose." +</P> + +<P> +"Wait!" says he. "You haven't heard it all." +</P> + +<P> +"Let it come, then," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"We will look at the house first," says he. +</P> + +<P> +The kids wa'n't anywhere in sight; so we starts right in on the tour of +inspection. It was a big, old, slate roofed baracks, with jigsaw work +on the eaves, and a lot of dinky towers frescoed with lightnin' rods. +There was furniture to match, mostly the marble topped, black walnut +kind, that was real stylish back in the '70's. +</P> + +<P> +In the hall we runs across Snivens. He was the butler; but you +wouldn't guess it unless you was told. Kind of a cross between a horse +doctor and a missionary, I should call him—one of these short legged, +barrel podded gents, with a pair of white wind harps framin' up a putty +coloured face that was ornamented with a set of the solemnest lookin' +lamps you ever saw off a stuffed owl. +</P> + +<P> +"Gee, Pinckney!" says I, "who unloaded that on you!" +</P> + +<P> +"Snivens came with the place," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"He looks it," says I. "I should think that face would sour milk. +Don't he scare the twins?" +</P> + +<P> +"Frighten Jack and Jill?" says Pinckney. "Not if he had horns and a +tail! They seem to take him as a joke. But he does make all the rest +of us feel creepy." +</P> + +<P> +"Why don't you write him his release?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Can't," says Pinckney. "He is one of the conditions in the +contract—he and the urns." +</P> + +<P> +"The urns?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," says Pinckney, sighin' deep. "We are coming to them now. There +they are." +</P> + +<P> +With that we steps into one of the front rooms, and he lines me up +before a white marble mantel that is just as cheerful and tasty as some +of them pieces in Greenwood Cemetery. On either end was what looks to +be a bronze flower pot. +</P> + +<P> +"To your right," says Pinckney, "is Grandfather; to your left, Aunt +Sabina." +</P> + +<P> +"What's the josh?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Shorty," says he, heavin' up another sigh, "you are now in the +presence of sacred dust. These urns contain the sad fragments of two +great Van Rusters." +</P> + +<P> +"Fragments is good," says I. "Couldn't find many to keep, could they? +Did they go up with a powder mill, or fall into a stone crusher?" +</P> + +<P> +"Cremated," says Pinckney. +</P> + +<P> +Then I gets the whole story of the two old maids that Pinckney rented +the place from. They were the last of the clan. In their day the Van +Rusters had headed the Westchester battin' list, ownin' about half the +county and gettin' their names in the paper reg'lar. But they'd been +peterin' out for the last hundred years or so, and when it got down to +the Misses Van Rusters, a pair of thin edged, old battle axes that had +never wore anything but crape and jet bonnets, there wa'n't much left +of the estate except the mortgages and the urns. +</P> + +<P> +Rentin' the place furnished was the last card in the box, and Pinckney +turns up as the willin' victim. When he comes to size up what he's +drawn, and has read over the lease, he finds he's put his name to a lot +he didn't dream about. Keepin' Snivens on the pay roll, promisin' not +to disturb the urns, usin' the furniture careful, and havin' the grass +cut in the private buryin' lot was only a few that he could think of +off hand. +</P> + +<P> +"You ain't a tenant, Pinckney," says I; "you're a philanthropist." +</P> + +<P> +"I feel that way," says he. "At first, I didn't know which was worse, +Snivens or the urns. But I know now—it is the urns. They are driving +me to distraction." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, do a lap!" says I. "Course, I give in that there might be better +parlour ornaments than potted ancestors, specially when they belong to +someone else; but they don't come extra, do they? I thought it was the +twins that was worryin' you?" +</P> + +<P> +"That is where the urns come in," says he. "Here the youngsters are +now. Step back in here and watch." +</P> + +<P> +He pulls me into the next room, where we could see through the +draperies. There's a whoop and a hurrah outside, the door bangs, and +in tumbles the kids, with a nurse taggin' on behind. The youngsters +makes a bee line for the mantelpiece and sings out: +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, Grandfather! Hello, Aunt Sabina! Look what we brought this +time!" +</P> + +<P> +"Stop it! Stop it!" says the nurse, her eyes buggin' out. +</P> + +<P> +"Boo! Fraid cat!" yells the twins, and nursy skips. Then they begins +to unload the stuff they've lugged in, pilin' it up alongside the urns, +singin' out like auctioneers, "There's some daisies for Aunt Sabina! +And wild strawberries for Grandfather! And a mud turtle for aunty! +And a bird's nest for Grandfather!" windin' up the performance by +joinin' hands and goin' through a reg'lar war dance. +</P> + +<P> +Pinckney explains how this was only a sample of what had been goin' on +ever since they heard Snivens tellin' what was in the urns. They'd +stood by, listenin' with their mouths and ears wide open, and then +they'd asked questions until everyone was wore out tryin' to answer +'em. But the real woe came when the yarn got around among the servants +and they begun leavin' faster'n Pinckney's Aunt Mary could send out new +ones from town. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe the kids'll get tired of it in a few days," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Exactly what I thought," says Pinckney; "but they don't. It's the +best game they can think of, and if I allow them they will stay in here +by the hour, cutting up for the benefit of Grandfather and Aunt Sabina. +It's morbid. It gets on one's nerves. My aunt says she can't stand it +much longer, and if she goes I shall have to break up. If you're a +friend of mine, Shorty, you'll think of some way to get those +youngsters interested in something else." +</P> + +<P> +"Why don't you buy 'em a pony cart?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"I've bought two," says he; "and games and candy, and parrots and +mechanical toys enough to stock a store. Still they keep this thing +up." +</P> + +<P> +"And if you quit the domestic game, the kids have to go to some home, +and you go back to the club?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"That's it," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"And when Miss Gertie comes on, and finds you've renigged, it's all up +between you and her, eh?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +Pinckney groans. +</P> + +<P> +"G'wan!" says I. "Go take a sleep." +</P> + +<P> +With that I steps in and shows myself to the kids. They yells and +makes a dash for me. Inside of two minutes I've been introduced to +Grandfather and Aunt Sabina, made to do a duck before both jars, and am +planted on the haircloth sofa with a kid holdin' either arm, while they +puts me through the third degree. They want information. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you ever see folks burned and put in jars?" says Jack. +</P> + +<P> +"No," says I; "but I've seen pickled ones jugged. I hear you've got +some ponies." +</P> + +<P> +"Two," says Jill; "spotted ones. Would you want to be burned after you +was a deader?" +</P> + +<P> +"Better after than before," says I. "Where's the ponies now?" +</P> + +<P> +"What do the ashes look like?" says Jack. +</P> + +<P> +"Are there any clinkers?" says Jill. +</P> + +<P> +Say, I was down and out in the first round. For every word I could get +in about ponies they got in ten about them bloomin' jars, and when I +leaves 'em they was organisin' a circus, with Grandfather and Aunt +Sabina supposed to be occupyin' the reserved seats. Honest, it was +enough to chill the spine of a morgue keeper. By good luck I runs +across Snivens snoopin' through the hall. +</P> + +<P> +"See here, you!" says I. "I want to talk to you." +</P> + +<P> +"Beg pardon, sir," says he, backin' off, real stiff and dignified; +"but——" +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, chuck it!" says I, reachin' out and gettin' hold of his collar, +playful like. "You've been listenin' at the door. Now what do you +think of the way them kids is carryin' on in there?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's outrageous, sir!" says he, puffin' up his cheeks, "It's +scandalous! They're young imps, so they are, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Want to stop all that nonsense?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +He says he does. +</P> + +<P> +"Then," says I, "you take them jars down cellar and hide 'em in the +coal bin." +</P> + +<P> +He holds up both hands at that. "It can't be done, sir," says he. +"They've been right there for twenty years without bein' so much as +moved. They were very superior folks, sir, very superior." +</P> + +<P> +"Couldn't you put 'em in the attic, then?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +He couldn't. He says it's in the lease that the jars wa'n't to be +touched. +</P> + +<P> +"Snivens," says I, shovin' a twenty at him, "forget the lease." +</P> + +<P> +Say, he looks at that yellowback as longin' as an East Side kid sizin' +up a fruit cart. Then he gives a shiver and shakes his head. "Not for +a thousand, sir," says he. "I wouldn't dare." +</P> + +<P> +"You're an old billygoat, Snivens," says I. +</P> + +<P> +And that's all the good I did with my little whirl at the game; but I +tries to cheer Pinckney up by tellin' him the kids wa'n't doin' any +harm. +</P> + +<P> +"But they are," says Pinckney. "They're raising the very mischief with +my plans. The maids are scared to death. They say the house is +haunted. Four of them gave notice to-day. Aunt Mary is packing her +trunks, and that means that I might as well give up. I'll inquire +about a home to send them to this afternoon." +</P> + +<P> +I guess it was about four o'clock, and I was tryin' to take a snooze in +a hammock on the front porch, when I hears the twins makin' life +miserable for the gard'ner that was fixin' the rose bushes. +</P> + +<P> +"Lemme dig, Pat," says Jill. +</P> + +<P> +"G'wan, ye young tarrier!" says Pat +</P> + +<P> +"Can't I help some?" says Jack. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, if ye'll go off about a mile," says Pat. +</P> + +<P> +"Why don't the roses grow any more?" asks Jill. +</P> + +<P> +"It's needin' ashes on 'em they are," says Pat. +</P> + +<P> +"Ashes!" says Jack. +</P> + +<P> +"Ashes!" says Jill. +</P> + +<P> +Then together, "Oh, we know where there's ashes—lots!" +</P> + +<P> +"We'll fetch 'em!" says Jill, and with that I hears a scamperin' up the +steps. +</P> + +<P> +I was just gettin' up to chase after 'em, when I has another thought. +"What's the use, anyway?" thinks I. "It's their last stunt." So I +turns over and pretends to snooze. +</P> + +<P> +When Pinckney shows up about six the twins has the pony carts out and +is doin' a chariot race around the drive, as happy and innocent as a +couple of pink angels. Then they eats their supper and goes to bed, +with nary a mention of sayin' good-night to the jars, like they'd been +in the habit of doin'. Next mornin' they gets up as frisky as colts +and goes out to play wild Indians in the bushes. They was at it all +the forenoon, and never a word about Grandfather and Aunt Sabina. +Pinckney notices it, but he don't dare speak of it for fear he'll break +the spell. About two he comes in with a telegram. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Gertie's coming on the four o'clock train," says he, lookin' wild. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't act like you was much tickled," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"She's sure to find out what a muss I've made of things," says he. +"The moment she gets here I expect the twins will start up that +confounded rigmarole about Grandfather and Aunt Sabina again. Oh, I +can hear them doing it!" +</P> + +<P> +I let it go at that. But while he's away at the station the kitchen +talk breaks loose. The cook and two maids calls for Aunt Mary, tells +her what they think of a place that has canned spooks in the parlour, +and starts for the trolley. Aunt Mary gets her bonnet on and has her +trunks lugged down on the front porch. That's the kind of a reception +we has for Miss Gertrude and her mother when they show up. +</P> + +<P> +"Anything particular the matter?" whispers Pinckney to me, as he hands +the guests out of the carriage. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothin' much," says I. "Me and Snivens and the twins is left. The +others have gone or are goin'." +</P> + +<P> +"What is the matter?" says Miss Gertie. +</P> + +<P> +"Everything," says Pinckney. "I've made a flat failure. Shorty, you +bring in the twins and we'll end this thing right now." +</P> + +<P> +Well, I rounds up Jack and Jill, and after they've hugged Miss Gertie +until her travelin' dress is fixed for a week at the cleaners', +Pinckney leads us all into the front room. The urns was there on the +mantel; but the kids don't even give 'em a look. +</P> + +<P> +"Come on, you young rascals!" says he, as desperate as if he was +pleadin' guilty to blowin' up a safe. "Tell Miss Gertrude about +Grandfather and Aunt Sabina." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," says Jack, "they're out in the flower bed." +</P> + +<P> +"We fed 'em to the rose bushes," says Jill. +</P> + +<P> +"We didn't like to lose 'em," says Jack; "but Pat needed the ashes." +</P> + +<P> +"It's straight goods," says I; "I was there." +</P> + +<P> +And say, when Miss Gertrude hears the whole yarn about the urns, and +the trouble they've made Pinckney, she stops laughin' and holds out one +hand to him over Jill's shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"You poor boy!" says she. "Didn't you ever read Omar's— +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"I sometimes think that never blows so red<BR> +The rose, as where some buried Cćsar bled'?"<BR> +</P> + +<P> +Say, who was this duck Omar? And what's that got to do with +fertilisin' flower beds with the pulverised relations of your +landladies? I give it up. All I know is that Pinckney's had them jars +refilled with A-1 wood ashes, that Aunt Mary managed to 'phone up a new +set of help before mornin', and that when I left Pinckney and Miss +Gertie and the twins was' strollin' about, holdin' hands and lookin' to +be havin' the time of their lives. +</P> + +<P> +Domestic? Say, a clear Havana Punko, made in Connecticut, ain't in it +with him. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IX +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +A LINE ON PEACOCK ALLEY +</H4> + +<P> +What's the use of travelin', when there's more fun stayin' home? +Scenery? Say, the scenery that suits me best is the kind they keep lit +up all night. There's a lot of it between 14th-st. and the park. +Folks? Why, you stand on the corner of 42d and Broadway long enough +and you won't miss seein' many of 'em. They most all get here sooner +or later. +</P> + +<P> +Now, look at what happens last evenin'. I was just leanin' up against +the street door, real comfortable and satisfied after a good dinner, +when Swifty Joe comes down from the Studio and says there's a party by +the name of Merrity been callin' me up on the 'phone. +</P> + +<P> +"Merrity?" says I. "That sounds kind of joyous and familiar. Didn't +he give any letters for the front of it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothin' but Hank," says Swifty. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes," says I, gettin' the clue. "What did Hank have to say?" +</P> + +<P> +"Said he was a friend of yours, and if you didn't have nothin' better +on the hook he'd like to see you around the Wisteria," says Swifty. +</P> + +<P> +With that I lets loose a snicker. Honest, I couldn't help it. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, chee!" says Swifty. "Is it a string, or not? I might get a laugh +out of this myself." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, and then again you mightn't," says I. "Maybe it'd bring on +nothin' but a brain storm. You wait until I find out if it's safe to +tell you." +</P> + +<P> +With that I starts down towards 34th-st to see if it was really so +about Hank Merrity; for the last glimpse I got of him he was out in +Colorado, wearin' spurs and fringed buckskin pants, and lookin' to be +as much of a fixture there as Pike's Peak. +</P> + +<P> +It was while I was trainin' for one of my big matches, that I met up +with Hank. We'd picked out Bedelia for a camp. You've heard of +Bedelia? No? Then you ought to study the map. Anyway, if you'd been +followin' the sportin' news reg'lar a few years back, you'd remember. +There was a few days about that time when more press despatches was +filed from Bedelia than from Washington. And the pictures that was +sent east; "Shorty Ropin' Steers"—"Mr. McCabe Swingin' a Bronco by the +Tail," and all such truck. You know the kind of stuff them newspaper +artists strains their imaginations on. +</P> + +<P> +Course, I was too busy to bother about what they did to me, and didn't +care, anyway. But it was different with Hank. Oh, they got him too! +You see, he had a ranch about four miles north of our camp, and one of +my reg'lar forenoon stunts was to gallop up there, take a big swig of +mountain spring water—better'n anything you can buy in bottles—chin a +few minutes with Hank and the boys, and then dog trot it back. +</P> + +<P> +That was how the boss of Merrity's ranch came to get his picture in the +sportin' page alongside of a diagram of the four different ways I had +of peelin' a boiled potato. Them was the times when I took my exercise +with a sportin' editor hangin' to each elbow, and fellows with drawin' +pads squattin' all over the place. Just for a josh I lugged one of the +papers that had a picture of Hank up to the ranch, expectin' when he +saw it, he'd want to buckle on his guns and start down after the gent +that did it. +</P> + +<P> +You couldn't have blamed him much if he had; for Hank's features wa'n't +cut on what you might call classic lines. He looked more like a copy +of an old master that had been done by a sign painter on the side of a +barn. Not that he was so mortal homely, but his colour scheme was kind +of surprisin'. His complexion was a shade or two lighter than a new +saddle, except his neck, which was a flannel red, with lovely brown +speckles on it; and his eyes was sort of buttermilk blue, with eyebrows +that you had to guess at. His chief decoration though, was a lip +whisker that was a marvel—one of these ginger coloured droopers that +took root way down below his mouth corners and looked like it was there +to stay. +</P> + +<P> +But up on the ranch and down in Bedelia I never heard anyone pass +remarks on Hank Merrity's looks. He wa'n't no bad man either, but as +mild and gentle a beef raiser as you'd want to see. He seemed to be +quite a star among the cow punchers, and after I'd got used to his +peculiar style of beauty I kind of took to him, too. +</P> + +<P> +The picture didn't r'ile him a bit. He sat there lookin' at it for a +good five minutes without sayin' a word, them buttermilk eyes just +starin', kind of blank and dazed. Then he looks up, as pleased as a +kid, and says, "Wall, I'll be cussed! Mighty slick, ain't it?" +</P> + +<P> +Next he hollers for Reney—that was Mrs. Merrity. She was a good +sized, able bodied wild rose, Reney was; not such a bad looker, but a +little shy on style. A calico wrapper with the sleeves rolled up, a +lot of crinkly brown hair wavin' down her back, and an old pair of +carpet slippers on her feet, was Reney's mornin' costume. I shouldn't +wonder but what it did for afternoon and evenin' as well. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Merrity was more tickled with the picture than Hank. She stared +from the paper to him and back again, actin' like she thought Hank had +done somethin' she ought to be proud of, but couldn't exactly place. +</P> + +<P> +"Sho, Hank!" says she. "I wisht they'd waited until you'd put on your +Sunday shirt and slicked up a little." +</P> + +<P> +He was a real torrid proposition when he did slick up. I saw him do it +once, a couple of nights before I broke trainin', when they was goin' +to have a dance up to the ranch. His idea of makin' a swell toilet was +to take a hunk of sheep tallow and grease his boots clear to the tops. +Then he ducks his head into the horse trough and polishes the back of +his neck with a bar of yellow soap. Next he dries himself off on a +meal sack, uses half a bottle of scented hair oil on his Buffalo Bill +thatch, pulls on a striped gingham shirt, ties a red silk handkerchief +around his throat, and he's ready to receive comp'ny. I didn't see +Mrs. Merrity after she got herself fixed for the ball; but Hank told me +she was goin' to wear a shirt waist that she'd sent clear to Kansas +City for. +</P> + +<P> +Oh, we got real chummy before I left. He came down to see me off the +day I started for Denver, and while we was waitin' for the train he +told me the story of his life: How he'd been rustlin' for himself ever +since he'd graduated from an orphan asylum in Illinois; the different +things he'd worked at before he learned the cow business; and how, when +he'd first met Reney slingin' crockery in a railroad restaurant, and +married her on sight, they'd started out with a cash capital of one +five-dollar bill and thirty-eight cents in change, to make their +fortune. Then he told me how many steers and yearlings he owned, and +how much grazin' land he'd got inside of wire. +</P> + +<P> +"That's doin' middlin' well, ain't it?" says he. +</P> + +<P> +Come to figure up, it was, and I told him I didn't see why he wa'n't in +a fair way to find himself cuttin' into the grape some day. +</P> + +<P> +"It all depends on the Jayhawker," says he. "I've got a third int'rest +in that. Course, I ain't hollerin' a lot about it yet, for it ain't +much more'n a hole in the ground; but if they ever strike the yellow +there maybe we'll come on and take a look at New York." +</P> + +<P> +"It's worth it," says I. "Hunt me up when you do." +</P> + +<P> +"I shore will," says Hank. "Good luck!" +</P> + +<P> +And the last I see of him he was standin' there in his buckskin pants, +gawpin' at the steam cars. +</P> + +<P> +Now, I ain't been spendin' my time ever since wonderin' what was +happenin' to Hank. You know how it is. Maybe I've had him in mind two +or three times. But when I gets that 'phone message I didn't have any +trouble about callin' up my last view of him. So, when it come to +buttin' into a swell Fifth-ave. hotel and askin' for Hank Merrity, I +has a sudden spasm of bashfulness. It didn't last long. +</P> + +<P> +"If Hank was good enough for me to chum with in Bedelia," says I, "he +ought to have some standin' with me here. There wa'n't anything I +could have asked that he wouldn't have done for me out there, and I +guess if he needs some one to show him where Broadway is, and tell him +to take his pants out of his boot tops, it's up to me to do it." +</P> + +<P> +Just the same, when I gets up to the desk, I whispers it confidential +to the clerk. If he'd come back with a hee-haw I wouldn't have said a +word. I was expectin' somethin' of the kind. But never a chuckle. He +don't even grin. +</P> + +<P> +"Hank Merrity?" says he, shakin' his head. "We have a guest here, +though, by the name of Henry Merrity—Mr. Henry Merrity." +</P> + +<P> +"That's him," says I. "All the Henrys are Hanks when you get west of +Omaha. Where'll I find him?" +</P> + +<P> +I was hopin' he'd be up in his room, practisin' with' the electric +light buttons, or bracin' himself for a ride down in the elevator; but +there was no answer to the call on the house 'phone; so I has to wait +while a boy goes out with my card on a silver tray, squeakin', "Mister +Merrity! Mis-ter Merrity!" Five minutes later I was towed through the +palms into the Turkish smokin' room, and the next thing I knew I was +lined up in front of a perfect gent. +</P> + +<P> +Say, if it hadn't been for them buttermilk eyes, you never could have +made me believe it was him. Honest, them eyes was all there was left +of the Hank Merrity I'd known in Bedelia. It wa'n't just the clothes, +either, though he had 'em all on,—op'ra lid, four-button white vest, +shiny shoes, and the rest,—it was what had happened to his face that +was stunnin' me. +</P> + +<P> +The lip drooper had been wiped out—not just shaved off, mind you, but +scrubbed clean. The russet colour was gone, too. He was as pink and +white and smooth as a roastin' pig that's been scraped and sandpapered +for a window display in a meat shop. You've noticed that electric +light complexion some of our Broadway rounders gets on? Well, Hank had +it. Even the neck freckles had got the magic touch. +</P> + +<P> +Course, he hadn't been turned into any he Venus, at that; but as he +stood, costume and all, he looked as much a part of New York as the +Flatiron Buildin'. And while I'm buggin' my eyes out and holdin' my +mouth open, he grabs me by the hand and slaps me on the back. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, hello, Shorty! I'm mighty glad to see you. Put 'er there!" says +he. +</P> + +<P> +"Gee!" says I. "Then it's true! Now I guess the thing for me to do is +to own up to Maude Adams that I believe in fairies. Hank, who did it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Did what?" says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, made your face over and put on the Fifth-ave. gloss?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Do I look it?" says he, grinnin'. "Would I pass?" +</P> + +<P> +"Pass!" says I. "Hank, they could use you for a sign. Lookin' as you +do now, you could go to any one night stand in the country and be +handed the New York papers without sayin' a word. What I want to know, +though, is how it happened?" +</P> + +<P> +"Happen?" says he. "Shorty, such things don't come by accident. You +buy 'em. You go through torture for 'em." +</P> + +<P> +"Say, Hank," says I, "you don't mean to say you've been up against the +skinologists?" +</P> + +<P> +Well, he had. They'd kept his face in a steam box by the hour, +scrubbed him with pumice stone, electrocuted his lip fringe, made him +wear a sleepin' mask, and done everything but peel him alive. +</P> + +<P> +"Look at that for a paw!" says he. "Ain't it lady-like?" +</P> + +<P> +It was. Every fingernail showed the half moon, and the palm was as +soft as a baby's. +</P> + +<P> +"You must have been makin' a business of it," says I. "How long has +this thing been goin' on?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nearly four months," says Hank, heavin' a groan. "Part of that time I +put in five hours a day; but I've got 'em scaled down to two now. It's +been awful, Shorty, but it had to be done." +</P> + +<P> +"How was that?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"On Reney's account," says he. "She's powerful peart at savvyin' +things, Reney is. Why, when we struck town I was wearin' a leather +trimmed hat and eatin' with my knife, just as polite as I knew how. We +hadn't been here a day before she saw that something was wrong. +'Hank,' says she, 'this ain't where we belong. Let's go back.'—'What +for?' says I.—'Shucks!' says she. 'Can't you see? These folks are +different from us. Look at 'em!' Well, I did, and it made me mad. +'Reney,' says I,' I'll allow there is something wrong with us, but I +reckon it ain't bone deep. There's such a thing as burnin' one brand +over another, ain't there? Suppose we give it a whirl?' That's what +we done too, and I'm beginnin' to suspicion we've made good." +</P> + +<P> +"I guess you have, Hank," says I; "but ain't it expensive? You haven't +gone broke to do it, have you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Broke!" says he, smilin'. "Guess you ain't heard what they're takin' +out of the Jayhawker these days. Why, I couldn't spend it all if I had +four hands. But come on. Let's find Reney and go to a show, +somewheres." +</P> + +<P> +Course, seein' Hank had kind of prepared me for a change in Mrs. +Merrity; so I braces myself for the shock and tries to forget the +wrapper and carpet slippers. But you know the kind of birds that roost +along Peacock Alley? There was a double row of 'em holdin' down the +arm chairs on either side of the corridor, and lookin' like a livin' +exhibit of spring millinery. I tried hard to imagine Reney in that +bunch; but it was no go. The best I could do was throw up a picture of +a squatty female in a Kansas City shirt waist. And then, all of a +sudden, we fetches up alongside a fairy in radium silk and lace, with +her hair waved to the minute, and carryin' enough sparks to light up +the subway. She was the star of the collection, and I nearly loses my +breath when Hank says: +</P> + +<P> +"Reney, you remember Shorty McCabe, don't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, rully!" says she liftin' up a pair of gold handled eye glasses and +takin' a peek. "Chawmed to meet you again, Mr. McCabe." +</P> + +<P> +"M-m-me too," says I. It was all the conversation I had ready to pass +out. +</P> + +<P> +Maybe I acted some foolish; but for the next few minutes I didn't do +anything but stand there, sizin' her up and inspectin' the +improvements. There hadn't been any half way business about her. If +Hank was a good imitation, Mrs. Merrity was the real thing. She was +it. I've often wondered where they all came from, them birds of +Paradise that we see floatin' around such places; but now I've got a +line on 'em. They ain't all raised in New York. It's pin spots on the +map like Bedelia that keeps up the supply. +</P> + +<P> +Reney hadn't stopped with takin' courses at the beauty doctors and +goin' the limit on fancy clothes. She'd been plungin' on conversation +lessons, voice culture, and all kind of parlour tricks. She'd been +keepin' her eyes and ears open too, takin' her models from real life; +and the finished product was somethin' you'd say had never been west of +Broadway or east of Fourth-ave. As for her ever doin' such a thing as +juggle crockery, it was almost a libel to think of it. +</P> + +<P> +"Like it here in town, do you?" says I, firin' it at both of 'em. +</P> + +<P> +"Like it!" says Hank. "See what it's costin' us. We got to like it." +</P> + +<P> +She gives him a look that must have felt like an icicle slipped down +his neck. "Certainly we enjoy New York," says she. "It's our home, +don'cha know." +</P> + +<P> +"Gosh!" says I. I didn't mean to let it slip out, but it got past me +before I knew. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Merrity only raises her eyebrows and smiles, as much as to say, +"Oh, what can one expect?" +</P> + +<P> +That numbs me so much I didn't have life enough to back out of goin' to +the theatre with 'em, as Hank had planned. Course, we has a box, and +it wasn't until she'd got herself placed well up in front and was +lookin' the house over through the glasses that I gets a chance for a +few remarks with Hank. +</P> + +<P> +"Is she like that all the time now?" I whispers. +</P> + +<P> +"You bet!" says he. "Don't she do it good?" +</P> + +<P> +Say, there wa'n't any mistakin' how the act hit Hank. "You ought to +see her with her op'ra rig on, though—tiara, and all that," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Go reg'lar?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Tuesdays and Fridays," says he. "We leases the box for them nights." +</P> + +<P> +That gets me curious to know how they puts in their time, so I has him +give me an outline. It was something like this: Coffee and rolls at +ten-thirty A. M.; hair dressers, manicures, and massage artists till +twelve-thirty; drivin' in the brougham till two; an hour off for lunch; +more drivin' and shoppin' till five; nap till six; then the maids and +valets and so on to fix 'em up for dinner; theatre or op'ra till +eleven; supper at some swell café; and the pillows about two A. M. +</P> + +<P> +Then the curtain goes up for the second act, and I see Hank had got his +eyes glued on the stage. As we'd come late, I hadn't got the hang of +the piece before, but now I notices it's one of them gunless Wild West +plays that's hit Broadway so hard. It was a breezy kind of a scene +they showed up. To one side was an almost truly log cabin, with a tin +wash basin hung on a nail just outside the front door and some real +firewood stacked up under the window. Off up the middle was mountains +piled up, one on top of the other, clear up into the flies. +</P> + +<P> +The thing didn't strike me at first, until I hears Hank dig up a sigh +that sounds as if it started from his shoes. Then I tumbles. This +stage settin' was almost a dead ringer for his old ranch out north of +Bedelia. In a minute in comes a bunch of stage cowboys. They was a +lot cleaner lookin' than any I ever saw around Merrity's, and some of +'em was wearin' misfit whiskers; but barrin' a few little points like +that they fitted into the picture well enough. Next we hears a whoop, +and in bounces the leadin' lady, rigged out in beaded leggin's, knee +length skirt, leather coat, and Shy Ann hat, with her red hair flyin' +loose. +</P> + +<P> +Say, I'm a good deal of a come-on when it comes to the ranch business, +but I've seen enough to know that if any woman had showed up at +Merrity's place in that costume the cow punchers would have blushed +into their hats and took for the timber line. I looks at Hank, +expectin' to see him wearin' a grin; but he wa'n't. He's 'most tarin' +his eyes out, lookin' at them painted mountains and that four-piece log +cabin. And would you believe it, Mrs. Merrity was doin' the same! I +couldn't see that either of 'em moved durin' the whole act, or took +their eyes off that scenery, and when the curtain goes down they just +naturally reaches out and grips each other by the hand. For quite some +time they didn't say a word. Then Reney breaks the spell. +</P> + +<P> +"You noticed it, didn't you, Hank?" says she. +</P> + +<P> +"Couldn't help it, Reney!" says he huskily. +</P> + +<P> +"I expect the old place is looking awful nice, just about now," she +goes on. +</P> + +<P> +Hank was swallowin' hard just then, so all he could do was nod, and a +big drop of brine leaks out of one of them buttermilk blue eyes. Reney +saw it. +</P> + +<P> +"Hank," says she, still grippin' his hand and talkin' throaty—"let's +quit and go back!" +</P> + +<P> +Say, maybe you never heard one of them flannel shirts call the cows +home from the next county. A lot of folks who'd paid good money to +listen to a weak imitation was treated to the genuine article. +</P> + +<P> +"We-e-e-ough! Glory be!" yells Hank, jumpin' up and knockin' over a +chair. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-144"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-144.jpg" ALT=""WE--E--E--OUGH! GLORY BE!" YELLS HANK, LETTIN' OUT AN EARSPLITTER" BORDER="2" WIDTH="482" HEIGHT="619"> +<H3 CLASS="h3center" STYLE="width: 482px"> +"WE—E—E—OUGH! GLORY BE!" YELLS HANK, LETTIN' OUT AN EARSPLITTER +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<P> +It was an ear splitter, that was. Inside of a minute there was a +special cop and four ushers makin' a rush for the back of our box. +</P> + +<P> +"Here, here now!" says one. "You'll have to leave." +</P> + +<P> +"Leave!" says Hank. "Why, gol durn you white faced tenderfeet, you +couldn't hold us here another minute with rawhide ropes! Come on, +Reney; maybe there's a night train!" +</P> + +<P> +They didn't go quite so sudden as all that. Reney got him to wait +until noon next day, so she could fire a few maids and send a bale or +so of Paris gowns to the second hand shop; but they made me sit up till +'most mornin' with 'em, while they planned out the kind of a ranch de +luxe they was goin' to build when they got back to Bedelia. As near as +I could come to it, there was goin' to be four Chinese cooks always +standin' ready to fry griddle cakes for any neighbours that might drop +in, a dance hall with a floor of polished mahogany, and not a bath tub +on the place. What they wanted was to get back among their old +friends, put on their old clothes, and enjoy themselves in their own +way for the rest of their lives. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +X +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +SHORTY AND THE STRAY +</H4> + +<P> +Say, I don't know whether I'll ever get to be a reg'lar week-ender or +not, but I've been makin' another stab at it. What's the use ownin' +property in the country house belt if you don't use it now and then? +So last Saturday, after I shuts up the Studio, I scoots out to my place +in Primrose Park. +</P> + +<P> +Well, I puts in the afternoon with Dennis Whaley, who's head gardener +and farm superintendent, and everything else a three-acre plot will +stand for. Then, about supper time, as I'm just settlin' myself on the +front porch with my heels on the stoop rail, wonderin' how folks can +manage to live all the time where nothin' ever happens, I hears a +chug-chuggin', and up the drive rolls a cute little one-seater bubble, +with nobody aboard but a Boston terrier and a boy. +</P> + +<P> +"Chee!" thinks I, "they'll be givin' them gasolene carts to babies +next. Wonder what fetches the kid in here?" +</P> + +<P> +Maybe he was a big ten or a small twelve; anyway, he wa'n't more. He's +one of these fine haired, light complected youngsters, that a few years +ago would have had yellow Fauntleroy curls, and been rigged out in a +lace collar and a black velvet suit, and had a nurse to lead him around +by the hand. But the new crop of young Astergould Thickwads is bein' +trained on different lines. This kid was a good sample. His tow +coloured hair is just long enough to tousle nice, and he's bare headed +at that. Then he's got on corduroy knickers, a khaki jacket, black +leather leggin's, and gauntlet gloves, and he looks almost as healthy +as if he was poor. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, youngster!" says I. "Did you lose the shuffer overboard?" +</P> + +<P> +"Beg pardon," says he; "but I drive my own machine." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" says I. "I might have known by the costume." +</P> + +<P> +By this time he's standin' up with his hand to his ear, squintin' out +through the trees to the main road, like he was listenin' for +somethin'. In a second he hears one of them big six-cylinder cars go +hummin' past, and it seems to be what he was waitin' for. +</P> + +<P> +"Goin' to stop, are you?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," says he, "I will stay a little while, if you don't mind," +and he proceeds to shut off the gasolene and climb out. The dog +follows him. +</P> + +<P> +"Givin' some one the slip?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no," says he real prompt. "I—I've been in a race, that's all." +</P> + +<P> +"Ye-e-es?" says I. "Had a start, didn't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"A little," says he. +</P> + +<P> +With that he sits down on the steps, snuggles the terrier up alongside +of him, and begins to look me and the place over careful, without +sayin' any more. Course, that ain't the way boys usually act, unless +they've got stage fright, and this one didn't seem at all shy. As near +as I could guess, he was thinkin' hard, so I let him take his time. I +figures out from his looks, and his showin' up in a runabout, that he's +come from some of them big country places near by, and that when he +gets ready he'll let out what he's after. Sure enough, pretty soon he +opens up. +</P> + +<P> +"Wouldn't you like to buy the machine, sir?" says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Selling out, are you?" says I. "Well, what's your askin' price for a +rig of that kind?" +</P> + +<P> +He sizes me up for a minute, and then sends out a feeler. "Would five +dollars be too much?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," says I, "I shouldn't call that a squeeze, providin' you threw in +the dog." +</P> + +<P> +He looks real worried then, and hugs the terrier up closer than ever. +"I couldn't sell Togo," says he. "You—you wouldn't want him too, +would you?" +</P> + +<P> +When I sees that it wouldn't take much more to get them big blue eyes +of his to leakin', I puts him easy on the dog question. "But what's +your idea of sellin' the bubble?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Why," says he, "I won't need it any longer. I'm going to be a +motorman on a trolley car." +</P> + +<P> +"That's a real swell job," says I. "But how will the folks at home +take it?" +</P> + +<P> +"The folks at home?" says he, lookin' me straight in the eye. "Why, +there aren't any. I haven't any home, you know." +</P> + +<P> +Honest, the way he passed out that whopper was worth watchin'. It was +done as cool and scientific as a real estate man takin' oath there +wa'n't a mosquito in the whole county. +</P> + +<P> +"Then you're just travelin' around loose, eh?" says I. "Where'd you +strike from to-day?" +</P> + +<P> +"Chicago," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Do tell!" says I. "That's quite a day's run. You must have left +before breakfast." +</P> + +<P> +"I had breakfast early," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Dinner in Buffalo?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't stop for dinner," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"In that case—er—what's the name?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Mister Smith," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Easy name to remember," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye-e-es. I'd rather you called me Gerald, though," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Good," says I. "Well, Gerald, seein' as you've made a long jump since +breakfast, what do you say to grubbin' up a little with me, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +That strikes him favourable, and as Mother Whaley is just bringin' in +the platter, we goes inside and sits down, Togo and all. He sure +didn't fall to like a half starved kid; but maybe that was because he +was so busy lookin' at Mrs. Whaley. She ain't much on the French maid +type, that's a fact. Her uniform is a checked apron over a faded red +wrapper, and she has a way of puggin' her hair up in a little knob that +makes her face look like one of the kind they cut out of a cocoanut. +</P> + +<P> +Gerald eyes her for a while; then he leans over to me and whispers, "Is +this the butler's night off?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," says I. "He has seven a week. This is one of 'em." +</P> + +<P> +After he's thought that over he grins. "I see," says he. "You means +you haven't a butler? Why, I thought everyone did." +</P> + +<P> +"There's a few of us struggles along without," says I. "We don't brag +about it, though. But where do you keep your butler now, Mr. Gerald?" +</P> + +<P> +That catches him with his guard down, and he begins to look mighty +puzzled. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, come," says I, "you might's well own up. You've brought the +runaway act right down to the minute, son; but barrin' the details, +it's the same old game. I done the same when I was your age, only +instead of runnin' off in a thousand-dollar bubble, I sneaked into an +empty freight car." +</P> + +<P> +"Did you?" says he, his eyes openin' wide. "Was it nice, riding in the +freight car?" +</P> + +<P> +"Never had so much fun out of a car ride since," says I. "But I was on +the war path then. My outfit was a blank cartridge pistol, a scalpin' +knife hooked from the kitchen, and a couple of nickel lib'ries that +told all about Injun killin'. Don't lay out to slaughter any redskins, +do you?" +</P> + +<P> +He looks kind of weary, and shakes his head. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, runnin' a trolley car has its good points, I s'pose," says I; +"but I wouldn't tackle it for a year or so if I was you. You'd better +give me your 'phone number, and I'll ring up the folks, so they won't +be worryin' about you." +</P> + +<P> +But say, this Gerald boy, alias Mr. Smith, don't fall for any smooth +talk like that. He just sets his jaws hard and remarks, quiet like, "I +guess I'd better be going." +</P> + +<P> +"Where to?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"New Haven ought to be a good place to sell the machine," says he. "I +can get a job there too." +</P> + +<P> +At that I goes to pumpin' him some more, and he starts in to hand out +the weirdest line of yarns I ever listened to. Maybe he wa'n't a very +skilful liar, but he was a willin' one. Quick as I'd tangle him up on +one story, he'd lie himself out and into another. He accounts for his +not havin' any home in half a dozen different ways, sometimes killin' +off his relations one by one, and then bunchin' 'em in a railroad wreck +or an earthquake. But he sticks to Chicago as the place where he lived +last, although the nearest he can get to the street number is by sayin' +it was somewhere near Central Park. +</P> + +<P> +"That happens to be in New York," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"There are two in Chicago," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"All right, Gerald," says I. "I give up. We'll let it go that you're +playin' a lone hand; but before you start out again you'd better get a +good night's rest here. What do you say?" +</P> + +<P> +He didn't need much urgin'; so we runs the bubble around into the +stable, and I tucks him and Togo away together in the spare bed. +</P> + +<P> +"Who's the little lad?" says Dennis to me. +</P> + +<P> +"For one thing," says I, "he's an honourary member of the Ananias Club. +If I can dig up any more information between now and mornin', Dennis, +I'll let you know." +</P> + +<P> +First I calls up two or three village police stations along the line; +but they hadn't had word of any stray kid. +</P> + +<P> +"That's funny," thinks I. "If he'd lived down in Hester-st., there'd +be four thousand cops huntin' him up by this time." +</P> + +<P> +But it wa'n't my cue to do the frettin'; so I lets things rest as they +are, only takin' a look at the kid before I turns in, to see that he +was safe. And say, that one look gets me all broke up; for when I +tiptoes in with the candle I finds that pink and white face of his all +streaked up with cryin', and he has one arm around Togo, like he +thought that terrier was all the friend he had left. +</P> + +<P> +Gee! but that makes me feel mean! Why, if I'd known he was goin' to +blubber himself to sleep that way, I'd hung around and cheered him up. +He'd been so brash about this runaway business, though, that I never +suspicioned he'd go to pieces the minute he was left alone. And they +look different when they're asleep, don't they? I guess I must have +put in the next two hours' wonderin' how it was that a nice, bright +youngster like that should come to quit home. If he'd come from some +tenement house, where it was a case of pop bein' on the island, and maw +rushin' the can and usin' the poker on him, you wouldn't think anything +of it. But here he has his bubble, and his high priced terrier, and +things like that, and yet he does the skip. Well, there wa'n't any +answer. +</P> + +<P> +Not hearin' him stirrin' when I gets up in the mornin', I makes up my +mind to let him snooze as long as he likes. So I has breakfast and +goes out front with the mornin' papers. It got to be after nine +o'clock, and I was just thinkin' of goin' up to see how he was gettin' +on, when I sees a big green tourin' car come dashin' down into the park +and turn into my front drive. There was a crowd in it; but, before I +can get up, out flips a stunnin' lookin' bunch of dry goods, all veils +and silk dust coat, and wants to know if I'm Shorty McCabe: which I +says I am. +</P> + +<P> +"Then you have my boy here, have you?" she shoots out. And, say, by +the suspicious way she looks at me, you'd thought I'd been breakin' +into some nursery. I'll admit she was a beaut, all right; but the hard +look I gets from them big black eyes didn't win me for a cent. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe if I knew who you was, ma'am," says I, "we'd get along faster." +</P> + +<P> +That don't soothe her a bit. She gives me one glare, and then whirls +around and shouts to a couple of tough lookin' bruisers that was in the +car. +</P> + +<P> +"Quick!" she sings out. "Watch the rear and side doors. I'm sure he's +here." +</P> + +<P> +And the mugs pile out and proceed to plant themselves around the house. +</P> + +<P> +"Sa-a-ay," says I, "this begins to look excitin'. Is it a raid, or +what? Who are the husky boys?" +</P> + +<P> +"Those men are in my employ," says she. +</P> + +<P> +"Private sleut's?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"They are," says she, "and if you'll give up the boy without any +trouble I will pay you just twice as much as you're getting to hide +him. I'm going to have him, anyway." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well!" says I. +</P> + +<P> +And say, maybe you can guess by that time I was feelin' like it was a +warm day. If I'd had on a celluloid collar, it'd blown up. Inside of +ten seconds, I've shucked my coat and am mixin' it with the plug that's +guardin' the side door. The doin's was short and sweet. He's no +sooner slumped down to feel what's happened to his jaw than No. 2 come +up. He acts like he was ambitious to do damage, but the third punch +leaves him on the grass. Then I takes each of 'em by the ear, leads +'em out to the road, and gives 'em a little leather farewell to help +'em get under way. +</P> + +<P> +"Sorry to muss your hired help, ma'am," says I, comin' back to the +front stoop; "but this is one place in the country where private +detectives ain't wanted. And another thing, let's not have any more +talk about me bein' paid. If there's anyone here belongin' to you, you +can have him and welcome; but cut out the hold up business and the +graft conversation. Now again, what's the name?" +</P> + +<P> +She was so mad she was white around the lips; but she's one of the kind +that knows when she's up against it, too. "I am Mrs. Rutgers Greene," +says she. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes," says I. "From down on the point?" +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Greene lives at Orienta Point, I believe," says she. +</P> + +<P> +Now that was plain enough, wa'n't it? You wouldn't think I'd need +postin' on what they was sayin' at the clubs, after that. But these +high life break-aways are so common you can't keep track of all of 'em, +and she sprung it so offhand that I didn't more'n half tumble to what +she meant. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose I may have Gerald now?" she goes on. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure," says I. "I'll bring him down." And as I skips up the stairs I +sings out, "Hey, Mr. Smith! Your maw's come for you!" +</P> + +<P> +There was nothin' doin', though. I knocks on the door, and calls +again. Next I goes in. And say, it wa'n't until I'd pawed over all +the clothes, and looked under the bed and into the closet, that I could +believe it. He must have got up at daylight, slipped down the back way +in his stockin' feet, and skipped. The note on the wash stand clinches +it. It was wrote kind of wobbly, and the spellin' was some streaked; +but there wa'n't any mistakin' what he meant. He was sorry he had to +tell so many whoppers, but he wa'n't ever goin' home any more, and he +was much obliged for my tip about the freight car. Maybe my jaw didn't +drop. +</P> + +<P> +"Thick head!" says I, catchin' sight of myself in the bureau glass. +"You would get humorous!" +</P> + +<P> +When I goes back down stairs I find Mrs. Greene pacin' the porch. +"Well?" says she. +</P> + +<P> +I throws up my hands. "Skipped," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you mean to say he has gone?" she snaps. +</P> + +<P> +"That's the size of it," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Then this is Rutgers's work. Oh, the beast!" and she begins stampin' +her foot and bitin' her lips. +</P> + +<P> +"That's where you're off," says I; "this is a case of——" +</P> + +<P> +But just then another big bubble comes dashin' up, with four men in it, +and the one that jumps out and joins us is the main stem of the fam'ly. +I could see that by the way the lady turns her back on him. He's a +clean cut, square jawed young feller, and by the narrow set of his eyes +and the sandy colour of his hair you could guess he might be some +obstinate when it came to an argument. But he begins calm enough. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm Rutgers Greene," says he, "and at the police station they told me +Gerald was here. I'll take charge of him, if you please." +</P> + +<P> +"Have you brought a bunch of sleut's too?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +He admits that he has. +</P> + +<P> +"Then chase 'em off the grounds before I has another mental typhoon," +says I. "Shoo 'em!" +</P> + +<P> +"If they're not needed," says he, "and you object to——" +</P> + +<P> +"I do," says I. +</P> + +<P> +So he has his machine run out to the road again. +</P> + +<P> +"Now," says I, "seein' as this is a family affair——" +</P> + +<P> +"I beg pardon," puts in Greene; "but you hardly understand the +situation. Mrs. Greene need not be consulted at all." +</P> + +<P> +"I've as much right to Gerald as you have!" says she, her eyes snappin' +like a trolley wheel on a wet night. +</P> + +<P> +"We will allow the courts to decide that point," says he, real frosty. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want to butt in on any tender little domestic scene," says I; +"but if I was you two I'd find the kid first. He's been gone since +daylight." +</P> + +<P> +"Gone!" says Greene. "Where?" +</P> + +<P> +"There's no tellin' that," says I. "All I know is that when he left +here he was headed for the railroad track, meanin' to jump a freight +train and——" +</P> + +<P> +"The railroad!" squeals Mrs. Greene. "Oh, he'll be killed! Oh, +Gerald! Gerald!" +</P> + +<P> +Greene don't say a word, but he turns the colour of a slice of Swiss +cheese. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, what can we do?" says the lady, wringin' her hands. +</P> + +<P> +"Any of them detectives of yours know the kid by sight?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +They didn't. Neither did Greene's bunch. They was both fresh lots. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," says I, "I'll own up that part of this is up to me, and I won't +feel right until I've made a try to find him. I'm goin' to start now, +and I don't know how long I'll be gone. From what I've seen I can +guess that this cottage will be a little small for you two; but if +you're anxious to hear the first returns, I'd advise you to stay right +here. So long!" +</P> + +<P> +And with that I grabs my hat and makes a dash out the back way, leavin' +'em standin' there back to back. I never tracked a runaway kid along a +railroad, and I hadn't much notion of how to start; but I makes for the +rock ballast just as though I had the plan all mapped out. +</P> + +<P> +The first place I came across was a switch tower, and I hadn't chinned +the operators three minutes before I gets on to the fact that an east +bound freight usually passed there about six in the mornin', and +generally stopped to drill on the siding just below. That was enough +to send me down the track; but there wa'n't any traces of the kid. +</P> + +<P> +"New Haven for me, then," says I, and by good luck I catches a local. +Maybe that was a comfortable ride, watchin' out of the rear window for +somethin' I was hopin' I wouldn't see! And when it was over I hunts up +the yard master and finds the freight I was lookin' for was just about +due. +</P> + +<P> +"Expectin' a consignment?" says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," says I. "I'm a committee of one to receive a stray kid." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, that's it, eh?" says he. "We get 'em 'most every week. I'll see +that you have a pass to overhaul the empties." +</P> + +<P> +After I'd peeked into about a dozen box cars, and dug up nothin' more +encouraging than a couple of boozy 'boes, I begun to think my +calculations was all wrong. I was just slidin' another door shut when +I notices a bundle of somethin' over in the far corner. I had half a +mind not to climb in; for it didn't look like anything alive, but I +takes a chance at it for luck, and the first thing I hears is a growl. +The next minute I has Togo by the collar and the kid up on my arm. It +was Gerald, all right, though he was that dirty and rumpled I hardly +knew him. +</P> + +<P> +He just groans and grabs hold of me like he was afraid I was goin' to +get away. Why, the poor little cuss was so beat out and scared I +couldn't get a word from him for half an hour. But after awhile I +coaxed him to sit up on a stool and have a bite to eat, and when I've +washed off some of the grime, and pulled out a few splinters from his +hands, we gets a train back. First off I thought I'd 'phone Mr. and +Mrs. Greene, but then I changes my mind. "Maybe it'll do 'em good to +wait," thinks I. +</P> + +<P> +We was half way back when Gerald looks up and says, "You won't take me +home, will you?" +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter with home, kid?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," says he, and I could see by the struggle he was havin' with his +upper lip that it was comin' out hard, "mother says father isn't a nice +man, and father says I mustn't believe what she says at all, +and—and—I don't think I like either of them well enough to be their +little boy any more. I don't like being stolen so often, either." +</P> + +<P> +"Stolen!" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," says he. "You see, when I'm with father, mother is always +sending men to grab me up and take me off where she is. Then father +sends men to get me back, and—and I don't believe I've got any real +home any more. That's why I ran away. Wouldn't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Kid," says I, "I ain't got a word to say." +</P> + +<P> +He was too tired and down in the mouth to do much conversing either. +All he wants is to curl up with his head against my shoulder and go to +sleep. After he wakes up from his nap he feels better, and when he +finds we're goin' back to my place he gets quite chipper. All the way +walkin' up from the station I tries to think of how it would be best to +break the news to him about the grand household scrap that was due to +be pulled off the minute we shows up. I couldn't do it, though, until +we'd got clear to the house. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, youngster," says I, "there's a little surprise on tap for you +here, I guess. You walk up soft and peek through the door." +</P> + +<P> +For a minute I thought maybe they'd cleared out, he was so still about +it, so I steps up to rubber, too. And there's Mr. and Mrs. Rutgers +Greene, sittin' on the sofa about as close as they could get, her +weepin' damp streaks down his shirt front, and him pattin' her back +hair gentle and lovin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Turn off the sprayer!" says I. "Here's the kid!" +</P> + +<P> +Well, we was all mixed up for the next few minutes. They hugs Gerald +both to once, and then they hugs each other, and if I hadn't ducked +just as I did I ain't sure what would have happened to me. When I +comes back, half an hour later, all I needs is one glance to see that a +lot of private sleut's and court lawyers is out of a job. +</P> + +<P> +"Shorty," says Greene, givin' me the hearty grip, "I don't know how I'm +ever goin' to——" +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, lose it!" says I. "It was just by a fluke I got on the job, +anyway. That's a great kid of yours, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +Did I say anything about Primrose Park bein' a place where nothin' ever +happened? Well, you can scratch that. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XI +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +WHEN ROSSITER CUT LOOSE +</H4> + +<P> +As a general thing I don't go much on looks, but I will say that I've +seen handsomer specimens than Rossiter. He's got good height, and +plenty of reach, with legs branchin' out just under his armpits—you +know how them clothespin fellers are built—but when you finish out the +combination with pop eyes and a couple of overhangin' front teeth— +Well, what's the use? Rossy don't travel on his shape. He don't have +to, with popper bossin' a couple of trunk lines. +</P> + +<P> +When he first begun comin' to the Studio I sized him up for a soft +boiled, and wondered how he could stray around town alone without +havin' his shell cracked. Took me some time, too, before I fell to the +fact that Rossy was wiser'n he looked; but at that he wa'n't no +knowledge trust. +</P> + +<P> +Just bein' good natured was Rossy's long suit. Course, he couldn't +help grinnin'; his mouth is cut that way. There wa'n't any mistakin' +the look in them wide set eyes of his, though. That was the real +article, the genuine I'll-stand-for-anything kind. Say, you could +spring any sort of a josh on Rossy, and he wouldn't squeal. He was one +of your shy violets, too. Mostly he played a thinkin' part, and when +he did talk, he didn't say much. After you got to know 'him real well, +though, and was used to the way he looked, you couldn't help likin' +Rossiter. I'd had both him and the old man as reg'lars for two or +three months, and it's natural I was more or less chummy with them. +</P> + +<P> +So when Rossy shows up here the other mornin' and shoves out his +proposition to me, I don't think nothin' of it. +</P> + +<P> +"Shorty," says he, kind of flushin' up, "I've got a favour to ask of +you." +</P> + +<P> +"You're welcome to use all I've got in the bank," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"It isn't money," says he, growin' pinker. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" says I, like I was a lot surprised. "Your usin' the touch +preamble made me think it was. What's the go?" +</P> + +<P> +"I—I can't tell you just now," says he; "but I'd like your assistance +in a little affair, about eight o'clock this evening. Where can I find +you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sounds mysterious," says I. "You ain't goin' up against any Canfield +game; are you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I assure——" he begins. +</P> + +<P> +"That's enough," says I, and I names the particular spot I'll be +decoratin' at that hour. +</P> + +<P> +"You won't fail?" says he, anxious. +</P> + +<P> +"Not unless an ambulance gets me," says I. +</P> + +<P> +Well, I didn't go around battin' my head all the rest of the day, +tryin' to think out what it was Rossiter had on the card. Somehow he +ain't the kind you'd look for any hot stunts from. If I'd made a +guess, maybe I'd said he wanted me to take him and a college chum down +to a chop suey joint for an orgy on li-chee nuts an' weak tea. +</P> + +<P> +So I wa'n't fidgetin' any that evenin', as I holds up the corner of +42nd-st., passin' the time of day with the Rounds, and watchin' the +Harlem folks streak by to the roof gardens. Right on the tick a hansom +fetches up at the curb, and I sees Rossiter givin' me the wig-wag to +jump in. +</P> + +<P> +"You're runnin' on sked," says I. "Where to now?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think your Studio would be the best place," says he, "if you don't +mind." +</P> + +<P> +I said I didn't, and away we goes around the corner. As we does the +turn I sees another cab make a wild dash to get in front, and, takin' a +peek through the back window, I spots a second one followin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Are we part of a procession?" says I, pointin' 'em out to him. +</P> + +<P> +He only grins and looks kind of sheepish. "That's the regular thing +nowadays," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"What! Tin badgers?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +He nods. "They made me rather nervous at first," he says; "but after +I'd been shadowed for a week or so I got used to it, and lately I've +got so I would feel lost without them. To-night, though, they're +rather a nuisance. I thought you might help me to throw them off the +track." +</P> + +<P> +"But who set 'em on?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, it's father, I suppose," says he; not grouchy mind you, but kind +of tired. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Rossy!" says I. "I didn't think you was the sort that called for +P. D. reports." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not," says he. "That's just father's way, you know, when he +suspects anything is going on that he hasn't been told about. He runs +his business that way—has a big force looking into things all the +time. And maybe some of them weren't busy; so he told them to look +after me." +</P> + +<P> +Well say! I've heard some tough things about the old man, but I never +thought he'd carry a thing that far. Why, there ain't any more +sportin' blood in Rossiter than you'd look for in a ribbon clerk. +Outside of the little ladylike boxin' that he does with me, as a liver +regulator, the most excitin' fad of his I ever heard of was collectin' +picture postals. +</P> + +<P> +Now, I generally fights shy of mixin' up in family affairs, but someway +or other I just ached to take a hand in this. "Rossy," says I, "you're +dead anxious to hand the lemon to them two sleut's; are you?" +</P> + +<P> +He said he was. +</P> + +<P> +"And your game's all on the straight after that, is it?" I says. +</P> + +<P> +"'Pon my honour, it is," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Then count me in," says I. "I ain't never had any love for them sneak +detectives, and here's where I gives 'em a whirl." +</P> + +<P> +But say, they're a slippery bunch. They must have known just where we +was headin', for by the time we lands on the sidewalk in front of the +physical culture parlours, the man in the leadin' cab has jumped out +and faded. +</P> + +<P> +"He will be watching on the floor above," says Rossiter, "and the other +one will stay below." +</P> + +<P> +"That's the way they work it, eh?" says I. "Good! Come on in without +lookin' around or lettin' 'em know you're on." +</P> + +<P> +We goes up to the second floor and turns on the glim in the front +office. Then I puts on a pair of gym. shoes, opens the door easy, and +tiptoes down the stairs. He was just where I thought he'd be, coverin' +up in the shade of the vestibule. +</P> + +<P> +"Caught with the goods on!" says I, reachin' out and gettin' a good +grip on his neck. "No you don't! No gun play in this!" and I gives +his wrist a crack with my knuckles that puts his shootin' arm out of +business. +</P> + +<P> +"You're makin' a mistake," says he. "I'm a private detective." +</P> + +<P> +"You're a third rate yegg," says I, "and you've been nipped tryin' to +pinch a rubber door mat." +</P> + +<P> +"Here's my badge," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Anybody can buy things like that at a hock shop," says I. "You come +along up stairs till I see whether or no it's worth while ringin' up a +cop." +</P> + +<P> +He didn't want to visit, not a little bit, but I was behind, persuadin' +him with my knee, and up he goes. +</P> + +<P> +"Look at what the sneak thief business is comin' to," says I, standin' +him under the bunch light where Rossiter could get a good look at him. +He was a shifty eyed low brow that you wouldn't trust alone in a room +with a hot quarter. +</P> + +<P> +"My name is McGilty," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Even if it wa'n't, you could never prove an alibi with that face," +says I. +</P> + +<P> +"If this young gent'll 'phone to his father," he goes on, "he'll find +that I'm all right." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you want us to call up Teddy at Oyster Bay? Or send for your +old friend Bishop Potter? Ah, say, don't I look like I could buy fly +paper without gettin' stuck? Sit down there and rest your face and +hands." +</P> + +<P> +With that I chucks him into a chair, grabs up a hunk of window cord +that I has for the chest weights, and proceeds to do the bundle +wrapping act on him. Course, he does a lot of talkin', tellin' of the +things that'll happen to me if I don't let him go right off. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll cheerfully pay all the expenses of a damage suit, or fines, +Shorty," says Rossiter. +</P> + +<P> +"Forget it!" says I. "There won't be anything of the sort. He's +lettin' off a little hot air, that's all. Keep your eye on him while I +goes after the other one." +</P> + +<P> +I collared Number Two squattin' on the skylight stairs. For a minute +or so he put up a nice little muss, but after I'd handed him a swift +one on the jaw he forgot all about fightin' back. +</P> + +<P> +"Attempted larceny of a tarred roof for yours," says I. "Come down +till I give you the third degree." +</P> + +<P> +He didn't have a word to say; just held onto his face and looked ugly. +I tied him up same's I had the other and set 'em face to face, where +they could see how pretty they looked. Then I led Rossiter down stairs. +</P> + +<P> +"Now run along and enjoy yourself," says I. "That pair'll do no more +sleut'in' for awhile. I'll keep 'em half an hour, anyway, before I +throws 'em out in the street." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm awfully obliged, Shorty," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't mention it," says I. "It's been a pleasure."' +</P> + +<P> +That was no dream, either. Say, it did me most as much good as a trip +to Coney, stringin' them trussed up keyhole gazers. +</P> + +<P> +"Your names'll look nice in the paper," says I, "and when your cases +come up at Special Sessions maybe your friends'll all have reserved +seats. Sweet pair of pigeon toed junk collectors, you are!" +</P> + +<P> +If they wa'n't sick of the trailin' business before I turned 'em loose, +it wa'n't my fault. From the remarks they made as they went down the +stairs I suspicioned they was some sore on me. But now and then I runs +across folks that I'm kind of proud to have feel that way. Private +detectives is in that class. +</P> + +<P> +I was still on the grin, and thinkin' how real cute I'd been, when I +hears heavy steps on the stairs, and in blows Rossiter's old man, short +of breath and wall eyed. +</P> + +<P> +"Where's he gone?" says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Which one?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, that fool boy of mine!" says the old man. "I've just had word +that he was here less than an hour ago." +</P> + +<P> +"You got a straight tip," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, where did he go from here?" says he. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm a poor guesser," says I, "and he didn't leave any word; but if you +was to ask my opinion, I'd say that most likely he was behavin' +himself, wherever he was." +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" growls the old man. "That shows how little you know about him. +He's off being married, probably to some yellow haired chorus girl; +that's where he is!" +</P> + +<P> +"What! Rossy?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +Honest, I thought the old man must have gone batty; but when he tells +me the whole yarn I begins to feel like I'd swallowed a foolish powder. +Seems that Rossiter's mother had been noticin' symptoms in him for some +time; but they hadn't nailed anything until that evenin', when the +chump butler turns in a note that he shouldn't have let go of until +next mornin'. It was from Rossiter, and says as how, by the time she +reads that, he'll have gone and done it. +</P> + +<P> +"But how do you figure out that he's picked a squab for his'n?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Because they're the kind that would be most likely to trap a young +chuckle head like Rossiter," says the old man. "It's what I've been +afraid of for a long time. Who else would be likely to marry him? +Come! you don't imagine I think he's an Apollo, just because he's my +son, do you? And don't you suppose I've found out, in all these years, +that he hasn't sense enough to pound sand? But I can't stay here. +I've got to try and stop it, before it's too late. If you think you +can be of any help, you can come along." +</P> + +<P> +Well say, I didn't see how I'd fit into a hunt of that kind; and as for +knowin' what to do, I hadn't a thought in my head just then; but seein' +as how I'd butted in, it didn't seem no more'n right that I should stay +with the game. So I tags along, and we climbs into the old man's +electric cab. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll go to Dr. Piecrust's first, and see if he's there," says he, +"that being our church." +</P> + +<P> +Well, he wa'n't. And they hadn't seen him at another minister's that +the old man said Rossy knew. +</P> + +<P> +"If she was an actorine," says I, "she'd be apt to steer him to the +place where they has most of their splicin' done. Why not try there?" +</P> + +<P> +"Good idea!" says he, and we lights out hot foot for the Little Church +Around the Corner. +</P> + +<P> +And say! Talk about your long shots! As we piles out what should I +see but the carrotty topped night hawk that'd had Rossy and me for +fares earlier in the evenin'. +</P> + +<P> +"You're a winner," says I to the old man. "It's a case of waitin' at +the church. Ten to one you'll find Rossiter inside." +</P> + +<P> +It was a cinch. Rossy was the first one we saw as we got into the +anteroom. +</P> + +<P> +It wa'n't what you'd call a real affectionate meetin'. The old man +steps up and eyes him for a minute, like a dyspeptic lookin' at a piece +of overdone steak in a restaurant, and then he remarks: "What blasted +nonsense is this, sir?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why," says Rossy, shiftin' from one foot to the other, and grinnin' +foolisher'n I ever saw him grin before—"why, I just thought I'd get +married, that's all." +</P> + +<P> +"That's all, eh?" says the old man, and you could have filed a saw with +his voice. "Sort of a happy inspiration of the moment, was it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well," says Rossy, "not—not exactly that. I'd been thinking of it +for some time, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"The deuce you say!" says the old man. +</P> + +<P> +"I—I didn't think you'd object," says Rossy. +</P> + +<P> +"Wow!" says the old man. He'd been holdin' in a long spell, for him, +but then he just boiled over. "See here, you young rascal!" says he. +"What do you mean by talking that way to me? Didn't think I'd object! +D'ye suppose I'm anxious to have all New York know that my son's been +made a fool of? Think your mother and I are aching to have one of +these bleached hair chorus girls in the family? Got her inside there, +have you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir," says Rossy. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, bring her out here!" says the old man. "I've got something to +say to her." +</P> + +<P> +"All right, sir," says Rossy. If there ever was a time for throwin' +the hooks into a parent, it was then. But he's as good humoured and +quiet about it as though he'd just been handed a piece of peach pie. +"I'll bring her right out," says he. +</P> + +<P> +When he comes in with the lady, the old man takes one look at her and +almost loses his breath for good. +</P> + +<P> +"Eunice May Ogden!" says he. "Why—why on earth didn't you say so +before, Rossy?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, hush!" says the lady. "Do be still! Can't you see that we're +right in the middle of an elopement?" +</P> + +<P> +Never saw Eunice May, did you? Well, that's what you miss by not +travellin' around with the swells, same as me. I had seen her. And +say, she's somethin' of a sight, too! She's a prize pumpkin, Eunice +is. Maybe she's some less'n seven feet in her lisle threads, but she +looks every inch of it; and when it comes to curves, she has Lillian +Russell pared to a lamp post. She'd be a good enough looker if she +wa'n't such a whale. As twins, she'd be a pair of beauts, but the way +she stands, she's most too much of a good thing. +</P> + +<P> +Pinckney says they call her the Ogden sinking fund among his crowd. +I've heard 'em say that old man Ogden, who's a little, dried up runt of +about five feet nothin', has never got over bein' surprised at the size +Eunice has growed to. When she was about fourteen and weighed only a +hundred and ninety odd, he and Mother Ogden figured a lot on marryin' +Eunice into the House of Lords, like they did her sister, but they gave +all that up when she topped the two hundred mark. +</P> + +<P> +Standin' there with Rossiter, they loomed up like a dime museum couple; +but they was lookin' happy, and gazin' at each other in that mushy +way—you know how. +</P> + +<P> +"Say," says Rossiter's old man, sizin' 'em up careful, "is it all true? +Do you think as much of one another as all that?" +</P> + +<P> +There wa'n't any need of their sayin' so; but Rossy speaks up prompt +for the only time in his life. He told how they'd been spoons on each +other for more'n a year, but hadn't dared let on because they was +afraid of bein' kidded. It was the same way about gettin' married. +Course, their bein' neighbours on the avenue, and all that, he must +have known that the folks on either side wouldn't kick, but neither one +of 'em had the nerve to stand for a big weddin', so they just made up +their minds to slide off easy and have it all through before anyone had +a chance to give 'em the jolly. +</P> + +<P> +"But now that you've found it out," says Rossiter, "I suppose you'll +want us to wait and——" +</P> + +<P> +"Wait nothing!" says the old man, jammin' on his hat. "Don't you wait +a minute on my account. Go ahead with your elopement. I'll clear out. +I'll go up to the club and find Ogden, and when you have had the knot +tied good and fast, you come home and receive a double barrelled +blessing." +</P> + +<P> +About that time the minister that they'd been waitin' for shows up, and +before I knows it I've been rung in. Well, say, it was my first whack +playin' back stop at a weddin', and perhaps I put up a punk +performance; but inside of half an hour the job was done. +</P> + +<P> +And of all the happy reunions I was ever lugged into, it was when +Rossiter's folks and the Ogdens got together afterwards. They were so +tickled to get them two freak left overs off their hands that they +almost adopted me into both families, just for the little stunt I did +in bilkin' them P. D.'s. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +TWO ROUNDS WITH SYLVIE +</H4> + +<P> +If it hadn't been for givin' Chester a show to make a gallery play, you +wouldn't have caught me takin' a bite out of the quince, the way I did +the other night. But say, when a young sport has spent the best part +of a year learnin' swings and ducks and footwork, and when fancy +boxin's about all the stunt he's got on his program, it's no more'n +right he should give an exhibition, specially if that's what he aches +to do. And Chester did have that kind of a longin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Who are you plannin' to have in the audience, Chetty?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Why," says he, "there'll be three or four of the fellows up, and maybe +some of the crowd that mother's invited will drop in too." +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Angelica likely to be in the bunch?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +Chester pinks up at that and tries to make out he hadn't thought +anything about Angelica's bein' there at all. But I'd heard a lot +about this particular young lady, and when I sees the colour on Chester +his plan was as clear as if the entries was posted on a board. +</P> + +<P> +"All right, Chetty," says I; "have it any way you say. I'll be up +early Saturday night." +</P> + +<P> +So that's what I was doin' in the smoker on the five-nine, with my gym. +suit and gaslight clothes in a kit bag up on the rack. Just as they +shuts the gates and gives the word to pull out, in strolls the last man +aboard and piles in alongside of me. I wouldn't have noticed him +special if he hadn't squinted at the ticket I'd stuck in the seat back, +and asked if I was goin' to get off at that station. +</P> + +<P> +"I was thinkin' some of it when I paid my fare," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah!" says he, kind of gentle and blinkin' his eyes. "That is my +station, too. Might I trouble you to remind me of the fact when we +arrive?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure," says I; "I'll wake you up." +</P> + +<P> +He gives me another blink, pulls a little readin' book out of his +pocket, slumps down into the seat, and proceeds to act like he'd gone +into a trance. +</P> + +<P> +Say, I didn't need more'n one glimpse to size him up for a freak. The +Angora haircut was tag enough—reg'lar Elbert Hubbard thatch he was +wearin', all fluffy and wavy, and just clearin' his coat collar. That +and the artist's necktie, not to mention the eye glasses with the +tortoise shell rims, put him in the self advertisin' class without his +sayin' a word. +</P> + +<P> +Outside of the frills, he wa'n't a bad lookin' chap, and sizable enough +for a 'longshoreman, only you could tell by the lily white hands and +the long fingernails that him and toil never got within speakin' +distance. +</P> + +<P> +"Wonder what particular brand of mollycoddle he is?" thinks I. +</P> + +<P> +Now there wa'n't any call for me to put him through the catechism, just +because he was headed for the same town I was; but somehow I had an +itch to take a rise out of him. So I leans over and gets a peek at the +book. +</P> + +<P> +"Readin' po'try, eh?" says I, swallowin' a grin. +</P> + +<P> +"Beg pardon?" says he, kind of shakin' himself together. "Yes, this is +poetry—Swinburne, you know," and he slumps down again as if he'd said +all there was to say. +</P> + +<P> +But when I starts out to be sociable you can't head me off that way. +"Like it?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, yes," says he, "very much, indeed. Don't you?" +</P> + +<P> +He thought he had me corked there; but I comes right back at him. +"Nix!" says I. "Swinny's stuff always hit me as bein' kind of punk." +</P> + +<P> +"Really!" says he, liftin' his eyebrows. "Perhaps you have been +unfortunate in your selections. Now take this, from the Anactoria——" +</P> + +<P> +And say, I got what was comin' to me then. He tears off two or three +yards of it, all about moonlight and stars and kissin' and lovin', and +a lot of gush like that. Honest, it would give you an ache under your +vest! +</P> + +<P> +"There!" says he. "Isn't that beautiful imagery?" +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe," says I. "Guess I never happened to light on that part before." +</P> + +<P> +"But surely you are familiar with his Madonna Mia?" says he. +</P> + +<P> +"That got past me too," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"It's here," says he, speakin' up quick. "Wait. Ah, this is it!" and +hanged if he don't give me another dose, with more love in it than you +could get in a bushel of valentines, and about as much sense as if he'd +been readin' the dictionary backwards. He does it well, though, just +as if it all meant something; and me settin' there listenin' until I +felt like I'd been doped. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, I take it all back," says I when he lets up. "That Swinny chap +maybe ain't quite up to Wallace Irwin; but he's got Ella Wheeler pushed +through the ropes. I've got to see a friend in the baggage car, +though, and if you'll let me climb out past I'll speak to the brakeman +about puttin' you off where you belong." +</P> + +<P> +"You're very kind," says he. "Regret you can't stay longer." +</P> + +<P> +Was that a josh, or what? Anyway, I figures I'm gettin' off easy, for +there was a lot more of that blamed book he might have pumped into me +if I hadn't ducked. +</P> + +<P> +"Never again!" says I to myself. "Next time I gets curious I'll keep +my mouth shut." +</P> + +<P> +I wa'n't takin' any chances of his holdin' me up on the station +platform when we got off, either. I was the first man to swing from +the steps, and I makes a bee line for the road leadin' out towards +Chester's place, not stoppin' for a hack. Pretty soon who should come +drivin' after me but Curlylocks. He still has his book open, though; +so he gets by without spottin' me, and I draws a long breath. +</P> + +<P> +By the time I'd hoofed over the two miles between the stations and +where Chester lives I'd done a lot of breathin'. It was quite some of +a place to get to, one of these new-model houses, that wears the +plasterin' on the outside and has a roof made of fancy drain pipe. +It's balanced right on the edge of the rocks, with the whole of Long +Island sound for a back yard and more'n a dozen acres of private park +between it and the road. +</P> + +<P> +"Gee!" says I to Chester, "I should think this would be as lonesome as +livin' in a lighthouse." +</P> + +<P> +"Not with the mob that mother usually has around," says he. +</P> + +<P> +If the attendance that night was a sample, I guess he was right; for +the bunch that answers the dinner gong would have done credit to a +summer hotel. Seems that Chester's old man had been a sour, unsociable +old party in his day, keepin' the fam'ly shut up in a thirty-foot-front +city house that was about as cheerful as a tomb, and havin' comp'ny to +dinner reg'lar once a year. +</P> + +<P> +But when he finally quit breathin', and the lawyers had pried the +checkbook out of his grip, mother had sailed in to make up for lost +time. It wasn't bridge and pink teas. She'd always had a hankerin' +for minglin' with the high brows, and it was them she went gunnin' +for,—anything from a college president down to lady novelists. +Anybody that could paint a prize picture, or break into print in the +thirty-five-cent magazines, or get his name up as havin' put the scoop +net over a new germ, could win a week of first class board from her by +just sendin' in his card. +</P> + +<P> +But it was tough on Chester, havin' that kind of a gang around all the +time, clutterin' up the front hall with their extension grips and +droppin' polysyllables in the soup. Chetty's brow was a low cut. +Maybe he had a full set of brains; but he hadn't ever had to work 'em +overtime, and he didn't seem anxious to try. About all the heavy +thinkin' he did was when he was orderin' lunch at the club. But he was +a big, full blooded, good natured young feller, and with the exercise +he got around to the Studio he kept in pretty good trim. +</P> + +<P> +How he ever come to get stuck on a girl like Angelica, though, was +more'n I could account for. She's one of these slim, big eyed, +breathless, gushy sort of females; the kind that tends out on picture +shows, and piano recitals, and Hindu lectures. Chester seems to have a +bad case of it, though. +</P> + +<P> +"Is she on hand to-night, Chetty?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +He owns up that she was. "And say, Shorty," says he, "I want you to +meet her. Come on, now. I've told her a lot about you." +</P> + +<P> +"That bein' the case," says I, "here's where Angelica gets a treat," +and we starts out to hunt for her, Chester's plan bein' to make me the +excuse for the boxin' exhibit. +</P> + +<P> +But Angelica didn't seem to be so easy to locate. First we strikes the +music room, where a heavy weight gent lately come over from Warsaw is +tearin' a thunder storm out of the southwest corner of the piano. +</P> + +<P> +The room was full of folks; but nary sign of the girl with the eyes. +Nor she wa'n't in the libr'y, where a four-eyed duck with a crop of +rusty chin spinach was gassin' away about the sun spots, or something. +Say, there was 'most any kind of brain stimulation you could name bein' +handed out in diff'rent parts of that house; but Angelica wa'n't to any +of 'em. +</P> + +<P> +It was just by accident, as we was takin' a turn around one of the +verandas facin' the water, that, we runs across a couple camped down in +a corner seat under a big palm. The girl in pink radium silk was +Angelica. And say, by moonlight she's a bunch' of honeysuckle! The +other party was our old friend Curlylocks, and I has to grin at the +easy way he has of pickin' out the best looker in sight and leadin' her +off where she wouldn't have to listen to anybody but him. He has the +po'try tap turned on full blast, and the girl is listenin' as pleased +as if she had never heard anything better in her life. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-186"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-186.jpg" ALT="HE HAS THE PO'TRY TAP TURNED ON FULL BLAST" BORDER="2" WIDTH="488" HEIGHT="679"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 488px"> +HE HAS THE PO'TRY TAP TURNED ON FULL BLAST +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +"Confound him!" says Chester under his breath. "He's here again, is +he?" +</P> + +<P> +"Looks like this part of the house was gettin' crowded, Chetty," says +I. "Let's back out." +</P> + +<P> +"Hanged if I do!" says he, and proceeds to do the butt in act about as +gentle as a truck horse boltin' through a show window. "Oh, you're +here, Angelica!" he growls out. "I've been hunting all over the shop +for you." +</P> + +<P> +"S-s-sh!" says Angelica, holding up one finger and him off with the +other hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I see," says Chester; "but——" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, please run away and don't bother!" says she. "That's a good boy, +now Chester." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, darn!" says Chester. +</P> + +<P> +That was the best he could do too, for they don't even wait to see us +start. Angelica gives us a fine view of her back hair, and Mr. +Curlylocks begins where he left off, and spiels away. It was a good +deal the same kind of rot he had shoved at me on the train,—all about +hearts and lovin' and so on,—only here he throws in business with the +eyelashes, and seems to have pulled out the soft vocal stops. +</P> + +<P> +Chester stands by for a minute, tryin' to look holes through 'em, and +then he lets me lead him off. +</P> + +<P> +"Now what do you think of that?" says he, makin' a face like he'd +tasted something that had been too long in the can. +</P> + +<P> +"Why," says I, "it's touchin', if true. Who's the home destroyer with +the vaseline voice and the fuzzy nut?" +</P> + +<P> +"He calls himself Sylvan Vickers," says Chester. "He's a poet—a +sappy, slushy, milk and water poet. Writes stuff about birds and +flowers and love, and goes around spouting it to women." +</P> + +<P> +"Why," says I, "he peeled off a few strips for me, comin' up on the +cars, and I though it was hot stuff." +</P> + +<P> +"Honest, Shorty," says Chester, swallowin' the string as fast as I +could unwind the ball, "you—you don't like that kind of guff, do you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, well," says I, "I don't wake up in the night and cry for it, and +maybe I can worry along for the next century or so without hearin' any +more; but he's sure found some one that does like it, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +There's no sayin' but what Chester held himself in well; for if ever a +man was entitled to a grouch, it was him. But he says mighty little, +just walks off scowlin' and settin' his teeth hard. I knew what was +good for that; so I hints that he round up his chappies and go down +into the gym. to work it off. +</P> + +<P> +Chetty's enthusiasm for mitt jugglin' has all petered out, though, and +it's some time before I can make him see it my way. Then we has to +find his crowd, that was scattered around in the different rooms, +lonesome and tired; so it's late in the evenin' before we got under way. +</P> + +<P> +Chester and me have had a round or so, and he'd just wore out one of +his friends and was tryin' to tease somebody else to put 'em on, when I +spots a rubber neck in the back of the hall. +</P> + +<P> +"O-o-h, see who's here, Chetty!" says I, whisperin' over his shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +It was our poet friend, that has had to give up Angelica to her maw. +He's been strayin' around loose, and has wandered in through the gym. +doors by luck. Now, Chester may not have any mighty intellect, but +there's times when he can think as quick as the next one. He takes one +glance at Curlylocks, and stiffens like a bird dog pointin' a partridge. +</P> + +<P> +"Say," says he all excited, "do you suppose—could we get him to put +them on?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not if you showed you was so anxious as all that," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Then you ask him, Shorty," he whispers. "I'll give a hundred for just +one round—two hundred." +</P> + +<P> +"S-s-sh!" says I. "Take it easy." +</P> + +<P> +Ever see an old lady tryin' to shoo a rooster into a fence corner, +while the old man waited around the end of the woodshed with the axe? +You know how gentle and easy the trick has to be worked? Well, that +was me explainin' to Curlylocks how we was havin' a little exercise +with the kid pillows,—oh, just a little harmless tappin' back and +forth, so's we could sleep well afterwards,—and didn't he feel like +tryin' it for a minute with Chester? Smooth! Some of that talk of +mine would have greased an axle. +</P> + +<P> +Sylvie, old boy, he blinks at me through his glasses, like a poll +parrot sizin' up a firecracker that little Jimmy wants to hand him. He +don't say anything, but he seems some interested. He reaches out for +one of the mitts and pokes a finger into the paddin', lookin' it over +as if it was some kind of a curiosity. +</P> + +<P> +"Reg'lar swan's down cushions," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Like to have you try a round or so, Vickers," puts in Chester, as +careless as he could. "Professor McCabe will show you how to put them +on." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, really?" says Curlylocks. Then he has to step up and inspect +Chester's frame up. +</P> + +<P> +"That's the finish!" thinks I; for Chetty's a well built boy, good and +bunchy around the shoulders, and when he peels down to a sleeveless +jersey he looks 'most as wicked as Sharkey. But, just as we're +expectin' Curlylocks to show how wise he was, he throws out a bluff +that leaves us gaspin' for breath. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know," says he, "if I was in the mood for that sort of thing, +I'd be charmed; but—er——" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, fudge!" says Chetty. "I expect you'd rather recite us some +poetry?" And at that one of Chester's chums snickers right out. +Sylvie flushes up like some one had slapped him on the wrist. +</P> + +<P> +"Beg pardon," says he; "but I believe I will try it for a little +while," and he holds out his paws for me to slip on the gloves. +</P> + +<P> +"Better shed the parlour clothes," says I. "You're liable to get 'em +dusty," which last tickles the audience a lot. +</P> + +<P> +He didn't want to peel off even his Tuxedo; but jollies him into +lettin' go of it, and partin' with his collar and white tie and eye +glasses too. That was as far as he'd go, though. +</P> + +<P> +Course, it was kind of a low down game to put up on anybody; but +Curlylocks wa'n't outclassed any in height, nor much in weight; and, +seein' as how he'd kind of laid himself open to something of the sort, +I didn't feel as bad as I might. All the time, Chester was tryin' to +keep the grin off his face, and his chums was most wearin' their elbows +out nudgin' each other. +</P> + +<P> +"Now," says I, when I've got Curlylocks ready for the slaughter, +"what'll it be—two-minute rounds?" +</P> + +<P> +"Quite satisfactory," says Sylvie; and Chetty nods. +</P> + +<P> +"Then let 'er go!" says I, steppin' back. +</P> + +<P> +One thing I've always coached Chester on, was openin' lively. It don't +make any difference whether the mitts are hard or soft, whether it's a +go to a finish or a private bout for fun, there's no sense in wastin' +the first sixty seconds in stirrin' up the air. The thing to do is to +bore in. And Chester didn't need any urgin'. He cuts loose with both +bunches, landin' a right on the ribs and pokin' the left into the +middle of Sylvie's map; so sudden that Mr. Poet heaves up a grunt way +from his socks. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, string it out, Chetty," says I. "String it out, so's it'll last +longer." +</P> + +<P> +But he's like a hungry kid with a hokypoky sandwich,—he wants to take +it all at one bite. And maybe if I'd been as much gone on Angelica as +he was, and had been put on a siding for this moonlight po'try +business, I'd been just as anxious. So he wades in again with as fine +a set of half arm jolts as he has in stock. +</P> + +<P> +By this time Sylvie has got his guard up proper, and is coverin' +himself almost as good as if he knew how. He does it a little awkward; +but somehow, Chetty couldn't seem to get through. +</P> + +<P> +"Give him the cross hook!" sings out one of the boys. +</P> + +<P> +Chester tries, but it didn't work. Then he springs another rush, and +they goes around like a couple of pinwheels, with nothin' gettin' +punished but the gloves. +</P> + +<P> +"Time!" says I, and leads Sylvie over to a chair. He was puffin' some, +but outside of that he was as good as new. "Good blockin', old man," +says I. "You're doin' fine. Keep that up and you'll be all right." +</P> + +<P> +"Think so?" says he, reachin' for the towel. +</P> + +<P> +The second spasm starts off different. Curlylocks seems to be more +awake than he was, and the first thing we knows he's fiddlin' for an +openin' in the good old fashioned way. +</P> + +<P> +"And there's where you lose out, son," thinks I. +</P> + +<P> +I hadn't got through thinkin' before things begun happenin'. Sylvie +seems to unlimber from the waist up, and his arms acted like he'd let +out an extra link in 'em. Funny I hadn't noticed that reach of his +before. For a second or so he only steps around Chester, shootin' out +first one glove and then the other, and plantin' little love pats on +different parts of him, as if he was locatin' the right spots. +</P> + +<P> +Chetty don't like havin' his bumps felt of that way, and comes back +with a left swing followed by an upper cut. They was both a little +wild, and they didn't connect. That wa'n't the worst of it, though. +Before he's through with that foolishness Sylvie turns them long arms +of his into a rapid fire battery, and his mitts begin to touch up them +spots he's picked out at the rate of about a hundred bull's eyes to the +minute. It was bing—bing—bing—biff!—with Chetty's arms swingin' +wide, and his block rockin', and his breath comin' short, and his knees +gettin' as wabbly as a new boy speakin' a piece. Before I can call the +round Curlylocks has put the steam into a jaw punch that sends Chester +to the mat as hard as though he'd been dropped out of a window. +</P> + +<P> +"Is—is it all over?" says Chetty when he comes to, a couple of minutes +later. +</P> + +<P> +"If you leave it to me," says I, "I should say it was; unless Mr. +What's-his-name here wants to try that same bunch of tricks on me. How +about it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Much obliged, professor," says Curlylocks, givin' a last hitch to his +white tie; "but I've seen you in the ring." +</P> + +<P> +"Well," says I, "I've heard you recite po'try; so we're even. But say, +you make a whole lot better showin' in my line than I would in yours, +and if you ever need a backer in either, just call on me." +</P> + +<P> +We shakes hands on that; and then Chetty comes to the front, man +fashion, with his flipper out, too. That starts the reunion, and when +I leaves 'em, about one A. M., the Scotch and ginger ale tide was +runnin' out fast. +</P> + +<P> +How about Angelica? Ah, say, next mornin' there shows up a younger, +fresher, gushier one than she is, and inside of half an hour her and +Curlylocks is close together on a bench, and he's got the little book +out again. Angelica pines in the background for about three minutes +before Chester comes around with the tourin' car, and the last I see of +'em they was snuggled up together in the back of the tonneau. So I +guess Chetty don't need much sympathisin' with, even if he was passed a +couple of lime drops. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XIII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +GIVING BOMBAZOULA THE HOOK +</H4> + +<P> +Maybe I was tellin' you something about them two rockin' chair +commodores from the yacht club, that I've got on my reg'lar list? +They're some of Pinckney's crowd, you know, and that's just as good as +sayin' they're more ornamental than useful. Anyway, that description's +a close fit for Purdy. +</P> + +<P> +First off I couldn't stand for Purdy at all. He's one of these natty, +band box chappies, with straw coloured hair slicked down as smooth as +if he'd just come up from a dive, and a costume that looks as if it +might have been copied from a stained glass window. You've seen them +symphonies in greys and browns, with everything matched up, from their +shirt studs to their shoes buttons? Now, I don't mind a man's bein' a +swell dresser—I've got a few hot vests myself—but this tryin' to be a +Mr. Pastelle is runnin' the thing into the ground. +</P> + +<P> +Purdy could stand all the improvin' the tailor could hand him, though. +His eyes was popped just enough to give him a continual surprised look, +and there was more or less of his face laid out in nose. Course, he +wa'n't to blame for that; but just the same, when he gets to comin' to +the Studio twice a week for glove work and the chest weights, I passes +him over to Swifty Joe. Honest, I couldn't trust myself to hit around +that nose proper. But Swifty uses him right. Them clothes of Purdy's +had got Swifty goin', and he wouldn't have mussed him for a farm. +</P> + +<P> +After I'd got used to seein' Purdy around, I didn't mind him so much +myself. He seemed to be a well meanin', quiet, sisterly sort of a +duck, one of the kind that fills in the corners at afternoon teas, and +wears out three pairs of pumps every winter leadin' cotillions. You'll +see his name figurin' in the society notes: how Mrs. Burgess Jones gave +a dinner dance at Sherry's for the younger set, and the cotillion was +led by Mr. Purdy Bligh. Say, how's that as a steady job for a grown +man, eh? +</P> + +<P> +But so long as I'm treated square by anyone, and they don't try to +throw any lugs around where I am, I don't feel any call to let 'em in +on my private thoughts. So Purdy and me gets along first rate; and the +next thing I knows he's callin' me Shorty, and bein' as glad to see me +when he comes in as if I was one of his old pals. How you goin' to +dodge a thing of that kind? And then, 'fore I knows what's comin', I'm +right in the middle of this Bombazoula business. +</P> + +<P> +It wa'n't anything I butted into on purpose, now you can take that +straight. It was this way: I was doin' my reg'lar afternoon stroll up +the avenue, not payin' much attention to anything in particular, when a +cab pulls up at the curb, and I looks around, to see Purdy leanin' over +the apron and makin' motions at me with his cane. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello!" says I. "Have they got you strapped in so you can't get out?" +</P> + +<P> +"By Jove!" says he, "I never thought of jumping out, you know. Beg +pardon, old man, for hailing you in that fashion, but——" +</P> + +<P> +"Cut it!" says I. "I ain't so proud as all that. What's doin'?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's rather a rummy go," says he; "but where can I buy some snakes?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's rummy, all right," says I. "Have you tried sendin' him to an +institute?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sending who?" says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" says I. "I figured this was a snake cure, throwin' a scare into +somebody, that you was plannin'." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, dear, no," says Purdy. "They're for Valentine. He's fond of +snakes, you know—can't get along without them. But they must be big +ones—spotted, rings around them, and all that." +</P> + +<P> +"Gee!" says I. "Vally's snake tastes must be educated 'way up! Guess +you'll have to give in your order down at Lefty White's." +</P> + +<P> +"And where is that?" says he. +</P> + +<P> +"William street, near the bridge," says I. "Don't you know about +Lefty's?" +</P> + +<P> +Well, he didn't; hadn't ever been below the bridge on the East Side in +his life; and wouldn't I please come along, if I could spare the time. +</P> + +<P> +So I climbs in alongside Purdy and the cane, and off we goes down town, +at the rate of a dollar 'n' a half an hour. I hadn't got out more'n +two questions 'fore Purdy cuts loose with the story of his life. +</P> + +<P> +"It's almost the same as asking me to choose my lot in the cemetery," +says he, "this notion of Aunt Isabella's for sending me out to buy +snakes." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought it was Valentine they was for?" says I. "Where does he come +in?" +</P> + +<P> +That fetches us to Chapter One, which begins with Aunt Isabella. It +seems that some time back, after she'd planted one hubby in Ohio and +another in Greenwood, and had pinned 'em both down secure with cut +granite slabs, aunty had let herself go for another try. This time she +gets an Englishman. He couldn't have been very tough, to begin with, +for he didn't last long. Neither did a brother of his; although you +couldn't lay that up against Isabella, as brother in law got himself +run over by a train. About all he left was a couple of +fourteen-year-old youngsters stranded in a boarding school. That was +Purdy and Valentine, and they was only half brothers at that, with +nobody that they could look up to for anything more substantial than +sympathy. So it was up to the step-aunt to do the rescue act. +</P> + +<P> +Well, Isabella has accumulated all kinds of dough; but she figures out +that the whole of one half brother was about all she wanted as a +souvenir to take home from dear old England. She looks the two of 'em +over for a day, tryin' to decide which to take, and then Purdy's +'lasses coloured hair wins out against Valentine's brick dust bangs. +She finds a job for Vally, a place where he can almost earn a livin', +gives him a nice new prayer book and her blessin', and cuts him adrift +in the fog. Then she grabs Purdy by the hand and catches the next boat +for New York. +</P> + +<P> +From then on it's all to the downy for Purdy, barrin' the fact that the +old girl's more or less tryin' to the nerves. She buys herself a +double breasted house just off the avenue, gives Purdy the best there +is goin', and encourages him to be as ladylike as he knows how. +</P> + +<P> +And say, what would you expect? I'd hate to think of what I'd be now +if I'd been brought up on a course of dancin' school, music lessons, +and Fauntleroy suits. What else was there for Purdy to do but learn to +drink tea with lemon in it, and lead cotillions? Aunt Isabella's been +takin' on weight and losin' her hearin'. When she gets so that she +can't eat chicken salad and ice cream at one A. M. without rememberin' +it for three days, and she has to buy pearls to splice out her +necklace, and have an extra wide chair put in her op'ra box, she begins +to sour on the merry-merry life, scratches half the entries on her +visitin' list, and joins old lady societies that meet once a month in +the afternoon. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course," says Purdy, "I had no objection to all that. It was +natural. Only after she began to bring Anastasia around, and hint very +plainly what she expected me to do, I began to get desperate." +</P> + +<P> +"Stashy wa'n't exactly your idea of a pippin, eh?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +That was what. Accordin' to Purdy's shorthand notes, Stashy was one of +these square chinned females that ought to be doin' a weight liftin' +act with some tent show. But she wa'n't. She had too much out at +int'rest for that, and as she didn't go in for the light and frivolous +she has to have something to keep her busy. So she starts out as a +lady preventer. Gettin' up societies to prevent things was her fad. +She splurges on 'em, from the kind that wants to put mufflers on +steamboat whistles, to them that would like to button leggins on the +statues of G. Wash. For all that, though, she thinks it's her duty to +marry some man and train him, and between her and Aunt Isabella they'd +picked out Purdy for the victim. +</P> + +<P> +"While you'd gone and tagged some pink and white, mink lined Daisy +May?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"I hadn't thought about getting married at all," says Purdy. +</P> + +<P> +"Then you might's well quit squirmin'," says I. "If you've got two of +that kind plannin' out your future, there ain't any hope." +</P> + +<P> +Then we gets down to Valentine, the half brother that has been cut +loose. Just as Purdy has given it to aunty straight that he'd rather +drop out of two clubs and have his allowance cut in half, than tie up +to any such tailor made article as Anastasia, and right in the middle +of Aunt Isabella's gettin' purple faced and puffy eyed over it, along +comes a lengthy letter from Valentine. +</P> + +<P> +It ain't any hard luck wheeze, either. He's no hungry prod., Vally +ain't. He's been doin' some tall climbin', all these years that +Purdy's been collectin' pearl stick pins and gold cigarette cases, and +changin' his clothes four times a day. Vally has jumped from one job +to another, played things clear across the board and the ends against +the middle, chased the pay envelope almost off the edge of the map, and +finished somewhere on the east coast of Africa, where he bosses a +couple of hundred coloured gentlemen in the original package, and makes +easy money by bein' agent for a big firm of London iv'ry importers. +He'd been makin' a trip to headquarters with a cargo, and was on his +way back to the iv'ry fields, when the notion struck him to stop off in +New York and say howdy to Aunt Isabella and Brother Purd. +</P> + +<P> +"And she hasn't talked about anything but Valentine since," says Purdy. +</P> + +<P> +"It's Vally's turn to be it; eh?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"You'd think so if you could hear them," says he. "Anastasia is just +as enthusiastic." +</P> + +<P> +"You ain't gettin' jealous, are you?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +Purdy unreefs the sickliest kind of a grin you ever saw. "I was as +pleased as anyone," says he, "until I found out the whole of Aunt +Isabella's plan." +</P> + +<P> +And say, it was a grand right and left that she'd framed up. Matin' +Stashy up with Valentine instead of Purdy was only part. Her idea was +to induce Vally to settle down with her, and ship Purdy off to look +after the iv'ry job. +</P> + +<P> +"Only fancy!" says Purdy. "It's a place called Bombazoula! Why, you +can't even find it on the chart. I'd die if I had to live in such a +dreadful place." +</P> + +<P> +"Is it too late to get busy and hand out the hot air to Stashy?" says +I. "Looks to me like it was either you for her, or Bombazoula for you." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't!" says Purdy, and he shivers like I'd slipped an icicle down his +back. Honest, he was takin' it so hard I didn't have the heart to rub +it in. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe Valentine'll renig—who knows?" says I. "He may be so stuck on +Africa that she can't call him off." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Aunt Isabella has thought of that," says he. "She is so provoked +with me that she will do everything to make him want to stay; and if I +remember Valentine, he'll be willing. Besides, who would want to live +in Africa when they could stop in New York? But I do think she might +have sent some one else after those snakes." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes!" says I. "I'd clean forgot about them. Where do they figure +in this?" +</P> + +<P> +"Decoration," says Purdy. "In my old rooms too!" +</P> + +<P> +Seems that Stashy and aunty had been reading up on Bombazoula, and +they'd got it down fine. Then they turns to and lays themselves out to +fix things up for Valentine so homelike and comfortable that, even if +he was ever so homesick for the jungle, like he wrote he was, he +wouldn't want to go any farther. +</P> + +<P> +First they'd got a lot of big rubber trees and palms, and filled the +rooms full of 'em, with the floors covered with stage grass, and half a +dozen grey parrots to let loose. They'd even gone so far as to try to +hire a couple of fake Zulus from a museum to come up and sing the +moonrise song; so's Vally wouldn't be bothered about goin' to sleep +night. The snakes twinin' around the rubber trees was to add the +finishin' touch. Course, they wanted the harmless kind, that's had +their stingers cut out; but snakes of some sort they'd just got to +have, or else they knew it wouldn't seem like home to Valentine. +</P> + +<P> +"Just as though I cared whether he is going to feel at home or not!" +says Purdy, real pettish. "By, Jove, Shorty! I've half a mind not to +do it. So there!" +</P> + +<P> +"Gee!" says I. "I wouldn't have your temper for anything. Shall we +signal the driver to do a pivot and head her north?" +</P> + +<P> +"N-n-n-o," says Purdy, reluctant. +</P> + +<P> +And right there I gets a seventh son view of Aunt Isabella crackin' the +checkbook at Purdy, and givin' him the cold spine now and then by +threatenin' to tear up the will. From that on I feels different +towards him. He'd got to a point where it was either please Aunt +Isabella, or get out and hustle; and how to get hold of real money +except by shovin' pink slips at the payin' teller was part of his +education that had been left out. He was up against it for fair. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, Purdy," says I, "I don't want to interfere in any family matters; +but since you've put it up to me, let me get this chunk of advice off +my mind: Long's you've got to be nice to aunty or go on a snowball +diet, I'd be nice and do it as cheerful as I could." +</P> + +<P> +Purdy thinks that over for a minute or so. Then he raps his cane on +the rubber mat, straightens up his shoulders, and says, "By Jove, I'll +do it! I'll get the snakes!" +</P> + +<P> +That wa'n't so easy, though, as I'd thought. Lefty White says he's +sorry, but he runs a mighty small stock of snakes in winter. He's got +a fine line of spring goods on the way, though, and if we'll just leave +our order—— +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, say, Lefty!" says I. "You give me shootin' pains. Here I goes +and cracks up your joint as a first class snakery and all you can show +is a few angleworms in bottles and a prospectus of what you'll have +next month." +</P> + +<P> +"Stuffed ones wouldn't do, eh?" says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +Purdy wa'n't sure, but he thought he'd take a chance on 'em; so we +picked out three of the biggest and spottedest ones in the shop, and +makes Lefty promise to get 'em up there early next forenoon, for +Valentine was due to show up by dinner time next night. +</P> + +<P> +On the way back we talks it over some more, and I tries to chirk Purdy +up all I could; for every time he thinks of Bombazoula he has a +shiverin' fit that nearly knocks him out. +</P> + +<P> +"I could never stand it to go there," says he—"never!" +</P> + +<P> +"Here, here!" says I. "That's no way to meet a thing like this. What +you want to do is to chuck a bluff. Jump right into this reception +business with both feet and let on you're tickled to death with the +prospect. Aunty won't take half the satisfaction in shunting you off +to the monkey woods if she thinks you want to go." +</P> + +<P> +Beats all what a little encouragement will do for some folks. By the +time Purdy drops me at the Studio he's feelin' a whole lot better, and +is prepared to give Vally the long lost brother grip when he comes. +</P> + +<P> +But I was sorry for Purdy just the same. I could see him, over there +at Bombazoula, in a suit of lavender pajamas, tryin' to organise a +cotillion with a lot of heavy weight brunettes, wearin' brass rings in +their noses and not much else. And all next day I kept wonderin' if +Aunt Isabella's scheme was really goin' to pan. So, when Purdy rushes +in about four o'clock, and wants me to come up and take a look at the +layout, I was just about ripe for goin' to see the show. +</P> + +<P> +"But I hope we can shy aunty," says I. "Sometimes I get along with +these old battle axes first rate, and then again I don't; and what +little reputation you got left at home I don't want to queer." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, that will be all right," says Purdy. "She has heard of you from +Pinckney, and she knows about how you helped me to get the snakes." +</P> + +<P> +"Did they fit in?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Come up and see," says Purdy. +</P> + +<P> +And it was worth the trip, just to get a view of them rooms. Nobody +but a batty old woman would have ever thought up so many jungle stunts +for the second floor of a brownstone front. +</P> + +<P> +"There!" says Purdy. "Isn't that tropical enough?" +</P> + +<P> +I took a long look. "Well," says I, "I've never been farther south +than Old Point, but I've seen such things pictured out before now, and +if I'm any judge, this throws up a section of the cannibal belt to the +life." +</P> + +<P> +It did too. They had the dark shades pulled down, and the light was +kind of dim; but you could see that the place was chock full of ferns +and palms and such. The parrots was hoppin' around, and you could hear +water runnin' somewheres, and they'd trained them spotted snakes around +the rubber trees just as natural as if they'd crawled up there by +themselves. +</P> + +<P> +While we was lookin' Aunt Isabella comes puffin' up the stairs. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't it just charming, Mr. McCabe?" says she, holdin' a hand up +behind one ear. "I can hardly wait for dear Valentine to come, I'm so +anxious to see how pleased he'll be. He just dotes on jungle life. +The dear boy! You must come up and take tea with him some afternoon. +He's a very shy, diffident little chap; but——" +</P> + +<P> +At that the door bell starts ringin' like the house was afire, and +bang! bang! goes someone's fist on the outside panel. Course, we all +chases down stairs to see what's broke loose; but before we gets to the +front hall the butler has the door open, and in pushes a husky, red +whiskered party, wearin' a cloth cap, a belted ulster with four checks +to the square yard, and carryin' an extension leather bag about the +size of a small trunk, with labels pasted all over it. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a blawsted shyme, that's w'at it is!" says he—"me p'yin' 'alf a +bob for a two shillin' drive. These cabbies of yours is a set of +bloomink 'iw'ymen!" +</P> + +<P> +"What name, sir?" says the butler. +</P> + +<P> +"Nime!" roars the whiskered gent. "I'm Valentine, that's who I am! +Tyke the luggage, you shiverin' pie face!" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Valentine!" squeals Aunt Isabella, makin' a rush at him with her +arms out. +</P> + +<P> +"Sheer off, aunty!" says he. "Cut out the bally tommyrot and let me +'ave a wash. And sye, send some beggar for the brandy and soda. +Where's me rooms?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll show you up, Valentine," chips in Purdy. +</P> + +<P> +"'Ello! 'O's the little man?" says Vally. "Blow me if it ain't Purdy! +Trot along up, Purdy lad, and show me the digs." +</P> + +<P> +Say, he was a bird, Vally was. He talks like a Cockney, acts like a +bounder, and looks 'em both. +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Isabella has dropped on the hall seat, gaspin' for breath, the +butler is leanin' against the wall with his mouth open; so I grabs the +bag and starts up after the half brothers. Just by the peachblow tint +of Vally's nose I got the idea that maybe the most entertainin' part of +this whole program was billed to take place on the second floor. +</P> + +<P> +"Here you are," says Purdy, swingin' open the door and shovin' him in. +"Aunt Isabella has fixed things up homelike for you, you see." +</P> + +<P> +"And here's your trunk," says I. "Make yourself to home," and I shuts +him in to enjoy himself. +</P> + +<P> +It took Valentine just about twenty seconds to size up the interior +decorations; for Purdy'd turned on the incandescents so's to give him a +good view, and that had stirred up the parrots some. What I was +waitin' for was for him to discover the spotted snakes. I didn't think +he could miss 'em, for they was mighty prominent. Nor he didn't. It +wasn't only us heard it, but everyone else on the block. +</P> + +<P> +"Wow!" says he. "'Elp! 'Elp! Lemme out! I'm bein' killed!" +</P> + +<P> +That was Valentine, bellerin' enough to take the roof off, and clawin' +around for the doorknob on the inside. He comes out as if he'd been +shot through a chute, his eyes stickin' out like a couple of peeled +onions, an' a grey parrot hangin' to one ear. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the trouble?" says Purdy. +</P> + +<P> +"Br-r-r!" says Valentine, like a clogged steam whistle. "Where's the +nearest 'orspital? I'm a sick man! Br-r-r-r!" +</P> + +<P> +With that he starts down the stairs, takin' three at a time, bolts +through the front door, and makes a dash down the street, yellin' like +a kid when a fire breaks out. +</P> + +<P> +Purdy and me didn't have any time to watch how far he went, for Aunt +Isabella had keeled over on the rug, the maid was havin' a fit in the +parlour, and the butler was fannin' himself with the card tray. We had +to use up all the alcohol and smellin' salts in the house before we +could bring the bunch around. When aunty's so she can hold her head up +and open her eyes, she looks about cautious, and whispers: +</P> + +<P> +"Has—has he gone, Purdy, dear?" +</P> + +<P> +Purdy says he has. +</P> + +<P> +"Then," she says to me, "bolt that door, and never mention his name to +me again." +</P> + +<P> +Everything's lovely now. Purdy's back to the downy, and Bombazoula's +wiped off the map for good. +</P> + +<P> +And say! If you're lookin' for a set of jungle scenery and stuffed +snakes, I know where you can get a job lot for the askin'. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XIV +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +A HUNCH FOR LANGDON +</H4> + +<P> +Say, the longer I knocks around and the more kinds I meet, the slower I +am about sizin' folks up on a first view. I used to think there was +only two classes, them that was my kind and them that wa'n't; but I've +got over that. I don't try to grade 'em up any more; for they're built +on so many different plans it would take a card index the size of a +flat buildin' to keep 'em all on file. All I can make out is that +there's some good points about the worst of 'em, and some of the best +has their streak of yellow. +</P> + +<P> +Anyway, I'm glad I ain't called on to write a tag for Langdon. First +news I had of him was what I took for inside information, bein' as it +was handed me by his maw. When I gets the note askin' me to call up in +the 70's between five and six I don't know whether it's a bid to a tea +fest or a bait for an auction. The stationery was real swell, though, +and the writin' was this up and down kind that goes with the gilt +crest. What I could puzzle out of the name, though, wa'n't familiar. +But I follows up the invite and takes a chance. +</P> + +<P> +So about five-thirty I'm standin' outside the glass doors pushin' the +bell. A butler with boiled egg eyes looks me over real frosty from +behind the lace curtains; but the minute I says I'm Shorty McCabe he +takes off the tramp chain and says, "Yes, sir. This way, sir." I'm +towed in over the Persian hall runner to the back parlour, where +there's a lady and gent sittin' on opposite sides of the coal grate, +with a tea tray between 'em. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll be drinkin' that stuff yet, if I ain't careful," thinks I. +</P> + +<P> +But I didn't even have to duck. The lady was so anxious to get to +talkin' that she forgot to shove the cups at me, and the gent didn't +act like it was his say. It was hard to tell, the way she has the +lights fixed, whether she was twenty-five or fifty. Anyway, she hadn't +got past the kittenish stage. Some of 'em never does. She don't +overdo the thing, but just gushes natural; usin' her eyes, and +eyebrows, and the end of her nose, and the tip of her chin when she +spoke, as well as throwin' in a few shoulder lifts once in awhile. +</P> + +<P> +"It's so good of you to come up, professor!" says she. "Isn't it, +Pembroke?" +</P> + +<P> +Pembroke—he's the gent on the other side of the tray—starts to say +that it was, but she don't give him a chance. She blazes right ahead, +tellin' how she's heard of me and my Studio through friends, and the +minute she hears of it, she knows that nothing would suit Langdon +better. "Langdon's my son, you know," says she. +</P> + +<P> +"Honest?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Te-he!" says she. "How sweet of you! Hardly anyone believes it at +first, though. But he's a dear boy; isn't he, Pembroke?" +</P> + +<P> +This was Pembroke's cue for fair. It's up to him to do the boost act. +But all he produces is a double barrelled blink from behind the +glasses. He's one of these chubby chaps, Pembroke is, especially +around the belt. He has pink cheeks, and a nice white forehead that +almost meets the back of his collar. But he knows when to let things +slide with a blink. +</P> + +<P> +"I guess some one's been givin' you the wrong steer," says I. "I ain't +started any kindergarten class yet. The Y. M. C. A. does that sort +of——" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, dear! but Langdon isn't a child, you know," says the lady. "He's +a great big fellow, almost twenty-two. Yes, really. And I know you'll +get to be awfully fond of him. Won't he, Pembroke?" +</P> + +<P> +"We-e-e-ell——" says Pembroke. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, he's bound to," says she. "Of course, Langdon doesn't always make +friends easily. He is so apt to be misunderstood. Why, they treated +him perfectly horrid at prep. school, and even worse at college. A lot +of the fellows, and, actually, some of the professors, were so rude to +him that Langdon said he just wouldn't stay another day! I told him I +didn't blame him a bit. So he came home. But it's awfully dull for a +young man like Langdon here in New York, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"Crippled, or blind or something, is he?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Who, Langdon? Why, he's perfect—absolutely perfect!" says she. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, that accounts for it," says I, and Pembroke went through some +motions with his cheeks like he was tryin' to blow soap bubbles up in +the air. +</P> + +<P> +Well, it seems that mother has been worryin' a lot over keepin' Langdon +amused. Think of it, in a town like this! +</P> + +<P> +"He detests business," says she, "and he doesn't care for theatres, or +going to clubs, or reading, or society. But his poor dear father +didn't care for any of those things either, except business. And +Langdon hasn't any head for that. All he takes an interest in is his +machine." +</P> + +<P> +"Singer or Remington?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, his auto, of course. He's perfectly devoted to that," says she; +"but the police are so dreadfully particular. Oh, they make such lots +of trouble for Langdon, and get him into such stupid scrapes. Don't +they, Pembroke?" +</P> + +<P> +Pembroke didn't blink at that. He nods twice. +</P> + +<P> +"It just keeps me worried all the time," she goes on. "It isn't that I +mind paying the absurd fines, of course; but—well, you can understand. +No one knows what those horrid officers will do next, they're so +unreasonable. Just think, that is the poor boy's only pleasure! So I +thought that if we could only get Langdon interested in something of an +athletic nature—he's a splendid boxer, you know—oh, splendid!" +</P> + +<P> +"That's different," says I. "You might send him down a few times +and——" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, but I want you to meet him first," says she, "and arouse his +enthusiasm. He would never go if you didn't. I expect he will be in +soon, and then— Why, that must be Langdon now!" +</P> + +<P> +It might have been an axe brigade from the district attorney's office, +or a hook and ladder company, by the sound. I didn't know whether he +was comin' through the doors or bringin' 'em in with him. As I squints +around I sees the egg eyed butler get shouldered into the hall rack; so +I judges that Langdon must be in something of a hurry. +</P> + +<P> +He gets over it, though, for he stamps into the middle of the room, +plants his feet wide apart, throws his leather cap with the goggles on +into a chair, and chucks one of them greasy bootleg gloves into the +middle of the tea tray. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, maw!" he growls. "Hello, Fatty! You here again?" +</P> + +<P> +Playful little cuss, Langdon was. He's about five feet nine, short +necked, and broad across the chest. But he's got a nice face—for a +masked ball—eyes the colour of purple writin' ink, hair of a lovely +ripe tomato shade growin' down to a peak in front and standin' up stiff +and bristly; a corrugated brow, like a washboard; and an undershot jaw, +same's a bull terrier. Oh, yes, he was a dear boy, all right. In his +leggin's and leather coat he looks too cute for any use. +</P> + +<P> +"Who's this?" says he, gettin' sight of me sittin' sideways on the +stuffed chair. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Langdon dear," says maw, "this is Professor McCabe. I was +speaking to you of him, you know." +</P> + +<P> +He looks me over as friendly as if I was some yegg man that had been +hauled out of the coal cellar. "Huh!" says he. I've heard freight +engines coughin' up a grade make a noise a good deal like that. +</P> + +<P> +Say, as a rule I ain't anxious to take on new people, and it's gettin' +so lately that we turn away two or three a week; but it didn't take me +long to make up my mind that I could find time for a session with +Langdon, if he wanted it. +</P> + +<P> +"Your maw says you do a little boxin'?" says I, smooth and soothin'. +</P> + +<P> +"What of it?" says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," says I, "down to my Studio we juggle the kid pillows once in +awhile ourselves, when we ain't doin' the wand drill, or playin' bean +bag." +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" says he once more. +</P> + +<P> +For a parlour conversationalist, Langdon was a frost, and he has +manners that would turn a subway guard green. But maw jumps in with +enough buttered talk for both, and pretty soon she tells me that +Langdon's perfectly delighted and will be down next day. +</P> + +<P> +"Me and Mr. Gallagher'll be on the spot," says I. "Good evenin', +ma'am." +</P> + +<P> +At that Pembroke jumps up, makes a quick break away, and trails along +too, so we does a promenade together down West End-ave. +</P> + +<P> +"Charming young fellow, eh?" says Pembroke. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure!" says I. "But he hides it well." +</P> + +<P> +"You think Langdon needs exercise?" says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Never saw anyone that needed it much worse," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Just my notion," says he. "In fact I am so interested in seeing that +Langdon gets it that I am quite willing to pay something extra for——" +</P> + +<P> +"You don't have to," says I. "I'm almost willin' to do the payin' +myself." +</P> + +<P> +That pleases Pembroke so much he has to stop right in his tracks and +shake hands. Funny, ain't it, how you can get to be such good friends +with anyone so sudden? We walks thirty blocks, chinnin' like brothers, +and when we stops on the corner of 42d I've got the whole story of maw +and Langdon, with some of Pembroke's hist'ry thrown in. +</P> + +<P> +It was just a plain case of mother bein' used as a doormat by her dear, +darling boy. She was more or less broke in to it, for it seems that +the late departed had been a good deal of a rough houser in his day, +havin' been about as gentle in his ways as a 'Leventh-ave. bartender +entertainin' the Gas House Gang. He hadn't much more'n quit the game, +though, before Langdon got big enough to carry out the program, and +he'd been at it ever since. +</P> + +<P> +As near as I could figure, Pembroke was a boyhood friend of maw's. +He'd missed his chance of bein' anything nearer, years ago, but was +still anxious to try again. But it didn't look like there'd be any +weddin' bells for him until Langdon either got his neck broke or was +put away for life. Pemby wa'n't soured, though. He talked real nice +about it. He said he could see how much maw thought of Langdon, and it +showed what good stuff she was made of, her stickin' to the boy until +he'd settled on something, or something had settled on him. Course, he +thought it was about time she had a let up and was treated white for +awhile. +</P> + +<P> +Accordin' to the hints he dropped, I suspicions that Pembroke would +have ranked her A-1 in the queen class, and I gathers that the size of +her bank account don't cut any ice in this deal, him havin' more or +less of a surplus himself. I guess he'd been a patient waiter; but +he'd set his hopes hard on engagin' the bridal state room for a spring +trip to Europe. +</P> + +<P> +It all comes back, though, to what could be done with Langdon, and that +was where the form sheet wa'n't any help. There's a million or so left +in trust for him; but he don't get it until he's twenty-five. +Meantime, it was a question of how you're goin' to handle a youngster +that's inherited the instincts of a truck driver and the income of a +bank president. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a pity, too," says Pembroke. "He hasn't any vicious habits, he's +rather bright, and if he could be started right he would make quite a +man, even now. He needs to be caged up somewhere long enough to' have +some of the bully knocked out of him. I'm hoping you can do a little +along that line." +</P> + +<P> +"Too big a contract," says I. "All I want is to make his ears buzz a +little, just as a comeback for a few of them grunts he chucked at me." +</P> + +<P> +And who do you suppose showed up at the Studio next forenoon? Him and +maw; she smilin' all over and tickled to death to think she'd got him +there; Langdon actin' like a bear with a sore ear. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe you hadn't better wait," says I to her. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes," says she. "I am going to stay and watch dear Langdon box, +you know." +</P> + +<P> +Well, unless I ruled her out flat, there was no way of changin' her +mind; so I had to let her stay. And she saw Langdon box. Oh, yes! +For an amateur, he puts up a fairly good exhibition, and as I didn't +have the heart to throw the hook into him with her sittin' there +lookin' so cheerful, about all I does is step around and block his +swings and jabs. And say, with him carryin' his guard high, and +leavin' the way to his meat safe open half the time, it was all I could +do to hold myself back. +</P> + +<P> +The only fun I gets is watchin' Swifty Joe's face out of the corner of +my eye. He was pipin' us off from the start. First his mouth comes +open a foot or so as he sees me let a chance slide, and when I misses +more openin's he takes on a look like some one had fed him a ripe egg. +</P> + +<P> +Langdon is havin' the time of his life. He can hit as hard as he +likes, and he don't get hit back. Must have seemed real homelike to +him. Anyway, soon's he dopes it out that there ain't any danger at +all, he bores in like a snow plough, and between blockin' and duckin' I +has my hands full. +</P> + +<P> +Just how Langdon has it sized up I couldn't make out; but like as not I +made somethin' of a hit with him. I put it down that way when he shows +up one afternoon with his bubble, and offers to take me for a spin. It +was so unexpected to find him tryin' to do somethin' agreeable that I +don't feel like I ought to throw him down. So I pulls on a sweater and +climbs in next to the steerin' wheel. +</P> + +<P> +There wa'n't anything fancy about Langdon's oil waggon. He'd had the +tonneau stripped off, and left just the front seat—no varnished wood, +only a coat of primin' paint and a layer of mud splashed over that. +But we hadn't gone a dozen blocks before I am wise to the fact that +nothin' was the matter with the cog wheels underneath. +</P> + +<P> +"Kind of a high powered cart, ain't it?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Only ninety horse," says Langdon, jerkin' us around a Broadway car so +fast that we grazed both ends at once. +</P> + +<P> +"You needn't hit 'er up on my account," says I, as we scoots across the +Plaza, makin' a cab horse stand on his hind legs to give us room. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm only on the second speed," says he. "Wait," and he does some +monkeyin' with the lever. +</P> + +<P> +Maybe it was Central Park; but it seemed to me like bein' shot through +a Christmas wreath, and the next thing I knows we're tearin' up +Amsterdam-ave. Say, I can see 'em yet, them folks and waggons and +things we missed—women holdin' kids by the hand, old ladies steppin' +out of cars, little girls runnin' across the street with their arms +full of bundles, white wings with their dust cans, and boys with +delivery carts. Sometimes I'd just shut my eyes and listen for the +squashy sound, and when it didn't come I'd open 'em and figure on what +would happen if I should reach out and get Langdon's neck in the crook +of my arm. +</P> + +<P> +And it wa'n't my first fast ride in town, either. But I'd never been +behind the lamps when a two-ton machine was bein' sent at a fifty-mile +clip up a street crowded with folks that had almost as much right to be +livin' as we did. +</P> + +<P> +It was a game that suited Langdon all right, though. He's squattin' +behind the wheel bareheaded, with his ketchup tinted hair plastered +back by the wind, them purple eyes shut to a squint, his under jaw +stuck out, and a kind of half grin—if you could call it +that—flickerin' on and off his thick lips. I don't wonder men shook +their fists at us and women turned white and sick as we cleared 'em by +the thickness of a sheet of paper. I expect we left a string of cuss +words three blocks long. +</P> + +<P> +I don't know how far we went, or where. It was all a nightmare to me, +just a string of gasps and visions of what would be in the papers next +day, after the coroner's jury got busy. But somehow we got through +without any red on the tires, and pulls up in front of the Studio. I +didn't jump out in a hurry, like I wanted to. I needed a minute to +think, for it seemed to me something was due some one. +</P> + +<P> +"Nice little plaything you've got here," says I. "And that was a great +ride. But sittin' still so long has kind of cramped my legs. Don't +feel like limberin' up a bit with the mitts, do you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'd just as soon," says Langdon. +</P> + +<P> +I was tryin' not to look the way I felt; but when we'd sent Swifty down +to sit in the machine, and I'd got Langdon peeled off and standin' on +the mat, with the spring lock snapped between him and the outside door, +it seemed too good to be true. I'd picked out an old set of gloves +that had the hair worked away from the knuckles some, for I wa'n't +plannin' on any push ball picnic this time. +</P> + +<P> +Just to stir his fightin' blood, and partly so I could be sure I had a +good grip on my own temper, I let him get in a few facers on me. Then +I opens up with the side remarks I'd been thinkin' over. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, Langy," says I, sidesteppin' one of his swings for my jaw, +"s'posin' you'd hit some of them people, eh? S'posin' that car of +yours had caught one of them old women—biff!—like that?" and I lets +go a jolt that fetches him on the cheek bone. +</P> + +<P> +"Ugh!" says Langdon, real surprised. But he shakes his head and comes +back at me. +</P> + +<P> +"Ever stop to think," says I, "how one of them kids would look after +you'd got him—so?" and I shoots the left into that bull neck of his. +</P> + +<P> +"S-s-s-say!" sputters Langdon. "What do you think you're doing, +anyway?" +</P> + +<P> +"Me?" says I. "I'm tryin' to get a few points on the bubble business. +Is it more fun to smash 'em in the ribs—bang!—like that? Or to slug +'em in the head—biff!—so? That's right, son; come in for more. It's +waitin'. There! Jarred your nut a bit, that one did, eh? Yes, here's +the mate to it. There's plenty more on tap. Oh, never mind the nose +claret. It'll wipe off. Keep your guard up. Careful, now! You're +swingin' wide. And, as I was sayin'—there, you ran into that +one—this bubble scorchin' must be great sport. When you +don't—biff!—get 'em—biff! you can scare 'em to death, eh? Wabbly on +your feet, are you? That's the stuff! Keep it up. That eye's all +right. One's all you need to see with. Gosh! Now you've got a pair +of 'em." +</P> + +<P> +If it hadn't been for his comin' in so ugly and strong I never could +have done it. I'd have weakened and let up on him long before he'd got +half what was owin'. But he was bound to have it all, and there's no +sayin' he wa'n't game about it. At the last I tried to tell him he'd +had enough; but as long as he could keep on his pins he kept hopin' to +get in just one on me; so I finally has to drop him with a stiff one +behind the ear. +</P> + +<P> +Course, if we'd had ring gloves on he'd looked like he'd been on the +choppin' block; but with the pillows you can't get hurt bad. Inside of +ten minutes I has him all washed off and up in a chair, lookin' not +much worse than before, except for the eye swellin's. And what do you +guess is the first thing he does? +</P> + +<P> +"Say, McCabe," says he, shovin' out his paw, "you're all right, you +are." +</P> + +<P> +"So?" says I. "If I thought you was any judge that might carry weight." +</P> + +<P> +"I know," says he. "Nobody likes me." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, well," says I, "I ain't rubbin' it in. I guess there's white +spots in you, after all; even if you do keep 'em covered." +</P> + +<P> +He pricks up his ears at that, and wants to know how and why. Almost +before I knows it we've drifted into a heart to heart talk that a half +hour before I would have said couldn't have happened. Langdon ain't +turned cherub; but he's a whole lot milder, and he takes in what I've +got to say as if it was a bulletin from headquarters. +</P> + +<P> +"That's all so," says he. "But I've got to do something. Do you know +what I'd like best?" +</P> + +<P> +I couldn't guess. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd like to be in the navy and handle one of those big thirteen-inch +guns," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not, then?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know how to get in," says he. "I'd go in a minute, if I did." +</P> + +<P> +"You're as good as there now, then," says I. "There's a recruitin' +office around on Sixth-ave., not five blocks from here, and the +Lieutenant's somethin' of a friend of mine. Is it a go?" +</P> + +<P> +"It is," says Langdon. +</P> + +<P> +Hanged if he didn't mean it too, and before he can change his mind +we've had the papers all made out. +</P> + +<P> +In the mornin' I 'phones Pembroke, and he comes around to lug me up +while he breaks the news to maw; for he says she'll need a lot of +calmin' down. I was lookin' for nothin' less than cat fits, too. But +say, she don't even turn on the sprayer. +</P> + +<P> +"The navy!" says she. "Why, how sweet! Oh, I'm so glad! Won't +Langdon make a lovely officer?" +</P> + +<P> +I don't know how it's goin' to work out; but there's one sure thing: +it'll be some time before Langdon'll be pestered any more by the +traffic cops. +</P> + +<P> +And, now that the state room's engaged, you ought to see how well +Pembroke is standin' the blow. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XV +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +SHORTY'S GO WITH ART +</H4> + +<P> +When me and art gets into the ring together, you might as well burn the +form sheet and slip the band back on your bettin' roll, for there's no +tellin' who'll take the count. +</P> + +<P> +It was Cornelia Ann that got me closer to art than I'd ever been +before, or am like to get again. Now, I didn't hunt her up, nor she +didn't come gunnin' for me. It was a case of runnin' down signals and +collidin' on the stair landin'; me makin' a grand rush out of the +Studio for a cross town car, and she just gettin' her wind 'fore she +tackled the next flight. +</P> + +<P> +Not that I hit her so hard; but it was enough to spill the paper +bundles she has piled up on one arm, and start 'em bouncin' down the +iron steps. First comes a loaf of bread; next a bottle of pickles, +that goes to the bad the third hop; and exhibit C was one of these +ten-cent dishes of baked beans—the pale kind, that look like they'd +floated in with the tide. Course, that dinky tin pan they was in don't +land flat. It slips out of the bag as slick as if it was greased, +stands up on edge, and rolls all the way down, distributin' the mess +from top to bottom, as even as if it was laid on with a brush. +</P> + +<P> +"My luncheon!" says she, in a reg'lar me-che-e-ild voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Lunch!" says I. "That's what I'd call a spread. This one's on the +house, but the next one will be on me. Will to-morrow do?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ye-es," says she. +</P> + +<P> +"Sorry," says I, "but I'm runnin' behind sched. now. What's the name, +miss?" +</P> + +<P> +"C. A. Belter, top floor," says she; "but don't mind about——" +</P> + +<P> +"That'll be all right, too," says I, skippin' down over the broken +glass and puntin' the five-cent white through the door for a goal. +</P> + +<P> +It's little things like that, though, that keeps a man from forgettin' +how he was brought up. I'm ready enough with some cheap jolly, but +when it comes to throwin' in a "beg pardon" at the right place I'm a +late comer. I thinks of 'em sometime next day. +</P> + +<P> +Course, I tries to get even by orderin' a four-pound steak, with +mushroom trimmin's, sent around from the hotel on the corner; but I +couldn't get over thinkin' how disappointed she looked when she saw +that pan of beans doin' the pinwheel act. I know I've seen the time +when a plate of pork-and in my fist would have been worth all the +turkey futures you could stack in a barn, and maybe it was that way +with her. +</P> + +<P> +Anyway, she didn't die of it, for a couple of days later she knocks +easy on the Studio door and gets her head in far enough to say how nice +it was of me to send her that lovely steak. +</P> + +<P> +"Forget it," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Never," says she. "I'm going to do a bas relief of you, in memory of +it." +</P> + +<P> +"A barrel which?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +Honest, I wa'n't within a mile of bein' next. It comes out that she +does sculpturing and wants to make a kind of embossed picture of me in +plaster of paris, like what the peddlers sell around on vacant stoops. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd look fine on a panel, wouldn't I?" says I. "Much obliged, miss, +but sittin' for my halftone is where I draws the line. I'll lend you +Swifty Joe, though." +</P> + +<P> +She ain't acquainted with the only registered assistant professor of +physical culture in the country, but she says if he don't mind she'll +try her hand on him first, and then maybe I'll let her do one of me. +Now, you'd thought Swifty, with that before-takin' mug of his, would +have hid in the cellar 'fore he'd let anybody make a cast of it; but +when the proposition is sprung, he's as pleased as if it was for the +front page of Fox's pink. +</P> + +<P> +That was what fetched me up to that seven by nine joint of hers, next +the roof, to have a look at what she'd done to Swifty Joe. He tows me +up there. And say, blamed if she hadn't got him to the life, broken +nose, ingrowin' forehead, whopper jaw, and all! +</P> + +<P> +"How about it?" says Joe, grinnin' at me as proud as if he'd broke into +the Fordham Heights Hall of Fame. +</P> + +<P> +"I never see anything handsomer—of the kind," says I. +</P> + +<P> +Then I got to askin' questions about the sculpturin' business, and how +the market was; so Miss Belter and me gets more or less acquainted. +She was a meek, slimpsy little thing, with big, hungry lookin' eyes, +and a double hank of cinnamon coloured hair that I should have thought +would have made her neck ache to carry around. +</P> + +<P> +Judgin' by the outfit in her ranch, the sculp-game ain't one that +brings in sable lined coats and such knickknacks. There was a bed +couch in one corner, a single burner gas stove on an upended trunk in +another, and chunks of clay all over the place. Light housekeepin' and +art don't seem to mix very well. Maybe they're just as tasty, but I'd +as soon have my eggs cooked in a fryin' pan that hadn't been used for a +mortar bed. +</P> + +<P> +We passed the time of day reg'lar after that, and now and then she'd +drop into the front office to show me some piece she'd made. I finds +out that the C. A. in her name stands for Cornelia Ann; so I drops the +Miss Belter and calls her that. +</P> + +<P> +"Father always calls me that, too," says she. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +That leads up to the story of how the old folks out in Minnekeegan have +been backin' her for a two years' stab at art in a big city. Seems it +has been an awful drain on the fam'ly gold reserve, and none of 'em +took any stock in such foolishness anyway, but she'd jollied 'em into +lettin' her have a show to make good, and now the time was about up. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," says I, "you ain't all in, are you?" +</P> + +<P> +Her under lip starts to pucker up at that, and them hungry eyes gets +foggy; but she takes a new grip on herself, makes a bluff at grinnin', +and says, throaty like, "It's no use pretending any longer, I—I'm a +failure!" +</P> + +<P> +Say, that makes me feel like an ice cream sign in a blizzard. I hadn't +been lookin' to dig up any private heart throbs like that. But there +it was; so I starts in to cheer her up the best I knew how. +</P> + +<P> +"Course," says I, "it's a line I couldn't shake a nickel out of in a +year; but if it suited me, and I thought I was onto my job, I'd make it +yield the coin, or go good and hungry tryin'." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps I have gone hungry," says she, quiet like. +</P> + +<P> +"Honest?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"That steak lasted me for a week," says she. +</P> + +<P> +There was more particulars followed that throws Cornelia Ann on the +screen in a new way for me. Grit! Why, she had enough to sand a +tarred roof. She'd lived on ham knuckles and limed eggs and Swiss +cheese for months. She'd turned her dresses inside out and upside +down, lined her shoes with paper when it was wet, and wore a long +sleeved shirt waist when there wa'n't another bein' used this side of +the prairies. And you can judge what that means by watchin' the women +size each other up in a street car. +</P> + +<P> +"If they'd only given me half a chance to show what I could do!" says +she. "But I didn't get the chance, and perhaps it was my fault. So +what's the use? I'll just pack up and go back to Minnekeegan." +</P> + +<P> +"Minnekeegan!" says I. "That sounds tough. What then?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," says she, "my brother is foreman in a broom factory. He will get +me a job at pasting labels." +</P> + +<P> +"Say," says I, gettin' a quick rush of blood to the head, "s'posen I +should contract for a full length of Swifty Joe to hang here in——" +</P> + +<P> +"No you don't!" says she, edgin' off. "It's good of you, but charity +work isn't what I want." +</P> + +<P> +Say, it wa'n't any of my funeral, but that broom fact'ry proposition +stayed with me quite some time. The thoughts of anyone havin' to go +back to a place with a name like Minnekeegan was bilious enough; but +for a girl that had laid out to give Macmonnies a run for the gold +medal, the label pastin' prospect must have loomed up like a bad dream. +</P> + +<P> +There's one good thing about other folks's troubles though—they're +easy put on the shelf. Soon's I gets to work I forgets all about +Cornelia Ann. I has to run out to Rockywold that afternoon, to put Mr. +Purdy Pell through his reg'lar course of stunts that he's been takin' +since some one told him he was gettin' to be a forty-fat. There was a +whole bunch of swells on hand; for it's gettin' so, now they can go and +come in their own tourin' cars, that winter house parties are just as +common as in summer. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank heaven you've come!" says Mr. Pell. "It gives me a chance to +get away from cards for an hour or so." +</P> + +<P> +"Guess you need it," says I. "You look like the trey of spades." +</P> + +<P> +Then Pinckney shows up in the gym., and he no sooner sees us at work +with the basket ball than he begins to peel off. "I say there!" says +he. "Count me in on some of that, or I'll be pulled into another +rubber." +</P> + +<P> +About an hour later, after they'd jollied me into stayin' all night, I +puts on a sweater and starts out for some hoof exercise in the young +blizzard that was makin' things white outside. Sadie holds me up at +the door. Her cheeks was blazin', and I could see she was holdin' the +Sullivan temper down with both hands. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello!" says I. "What's been stirrin' you up?" +</P> + +<P> +"Bridge!" snaps she. "I guess if you'd been glared at for two hours, +and called stupid when you lost, and worse names when you won, you'd +feel like throwing the cards at some one." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, why didn't you?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"I did," says she, "and there's an awful row on; but I don't care! And +if you don't stop that grinnin', I'll——" +</P> + +<P> +Well, she does it. That's the way with Sadie, words is always too slow +for her. Inside of a minute she's out chasin' me around the front yard +and peltin' me with snow balls. +</P> + +<P> +"See here," says I, diggin' a hunk of snow out of one ear, "that kind +of sport's all to the merry; but if I was you I'd dress for the part. +Snowballin' in slippers and silk stockin's and a lace dress is a +pneumonia bid, even if you are such a warm one on top." +</P> + +<P> +"Who's a red head?" says she. "You just wait a minute, Shorty McCabe, +and I'll make you sorry for that!" +</P> + +<P> +It wa'n't a minute, it was nearer fifteen; but when Sadie shows up +again she's wearin' the slickest Canuck costume you ever see, all +blanket stripes and red tassels, like a girl on a gift calendar. +</P> + +<P> +"Whe-e-e!" says she, and the snow begins to fly in chunks. It was the +damp, packy kind that used to make us go out and soak the tall hats +when we was kids. And Sadie hasn't forgot how to lam 'em in, either. +We was havin' it hot and lively, all over the lawn, when the first +thing I knows out comes Mrs. Purdy Pell and Pinckney and a lot of +others, to join in the muss. They'd dragged out a whole raft of +toboggan outfits from the attic, and the minute they gets 'em on they +begins to act as coltish as two-year-olds. +</P> + +<P> +Well say, you wouldn't have thought high rollers like them, that gets +their fun out of playin' the glass works exhibit at the op'ra, and +eatin' one A. M. suppers at Sherry's, and doublin' no trumps at a +quarter a point, could unbuckle enough to build snow forts, and yell +like Indians, and cut up like kids generally. But they does—washed +each other's faces, and laughed and whooped it up until dark. Didn't +need the dry Martinis to jolly up appetites for that bunch when dinner +time come, and if there was anyone awake in Rockywold after ten o'clock +that night it was the butler and the kitchen help. +</P> + +<P> +I looked for 'em to forget it all by mornin' and start in again on +their punky card games; but they was all up bright and early, plannin' +out new stunts. There'd been a lot of snow dropped durin' the night, +and some one gets struck with the notion that buildin' snow men would +be the finest sport in the world. They couldn't hardly wait to eat +breakfast before they gets on their blanket clothes and goes at it. +They was rollin' up snow all over the place, as busy as +'longshoremen—all but Pinckney. He gives out that him and me has been +appointed an art committee, to rake in an entrance fee of ten bones +each and decide who gets the purse for doin' the best job. +</P> + +<P> +"G'wan!" says I. "I couldn't referee no such fool tournament as this." +</P> + +<P> +"That's right, be modest!" says he. "Don't mind our feelings at all." +</P> + +<P> +Then Sadie and Mrs. Pell butts in and says I've just got to do it; so I +does. We gives 'em so long to pile up their raw material, and half an +hour after that to carve out what they thinks they can do best, nothin' +barred. Some starts in on Teddy bears, one gent plans out a cop; but +the most of 'em don't try anything harder'n plain snow men, with lumps +of coal for eyes, and pipes stuck in to finish off the face. +</P> + +<P> +It was about then that Count Skiphauser moves out of the background and +begins to play up strong. He's one of these big, full blooded pretzels +that's been everywhere, and seen everything, and knows it all, and +thinks there ain't anything but what he can do a little better'n +anybody else. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, well," says he, "I suppose I must show you what snow carving +really is. I won a prize for this sort of thing in Berlin, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"It's all over now," says I to Pinckney. "You heard Skippy pickin' +himself for a winner, didn't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's a bounder," says Pinckney, talkin' corner-wise—"lives on his +bridge and poker winnings. He mustn't get the prize." +</P> + +<P> +But Skiphauser ain't much more'n blocked out a head and shoulders 'fore +it was a cinch he was a ringer, with nothin' but a lot of rank amateurs +against him. Soon's the rest saw what they was up against they all +laid down, for he was makin' 'em look like six car fares. Course, +there wa'n't nothin' to do but join the gallery and watch him win in a +walk. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, it's a bust of Bismarck, isn't it?" says one of the women. "How +clever of you, Count!" +</P> + +<P> +At that Skippy throws out his chest and begins to chuck in the +flourishes. That kind of business suited him down to the ground. He +cocks his head on one side, twists up his lip whiskers like Billy the +Tooth, and goes through all the motions of a man that knows he's givin' +folks a treat. +</P> + +<P> +"Hates himself, don't he?" says I. "He must have graduated from some +tombstone foundry." +</P> + +<P> +Pinckney was wild. So was Sadie and Mrs. Purdy Pell, on account of the +free-for-all bein' turned into a game of solitaire. +</P> + +<P> +"I just wish," says Sadie, "that there was some way of taking him down +a peg. If I only knew of someone who——" +</P> + +<P> +"I do, if you don't," says I. +</P> + +<P> +Say, what do you reckon had been cloggin' my thought works all that +time. I takes the three of 'em to one side and springs my proposition, +tellin' 'em I'd put it through if they'd stand for it. Would they? +They're so tickled they almost squeals. +</P> + +<P> +I gets Swifty Joe at the Studio on the long distance and gives him his +instructions. It was a wonder he got it straight, for sometimes you +can't get an idea into his head without usin' a brace and bit, but this +trip he shows up for a high brow. Pretty quick we gets word that it's +all O. K. Pinckney bulletins it to the crowd that, while Sadie's +pulled out of the competition, she's asked leave to put on a sub, and +that the prize awardin' will be delayed until after the returns are all +in. +</P> + +<P> +Meantime I climbs into the sleigh and goes down to meet the express. +Sure enough, Cornelia Ann was aboard, a bit hazy about the kind of a +stunt that's expected of her, but ready for anything. I don't go into +many details, for fear of givin' her stage fright; but I lets her know +that if she's got any sculpturin' tricks up her sleeve now's the time +to shake 'em out. +</P> + +<P> +"I've been tellin' some friends of mine," says I, "that when it comes +to clay art, or plaster of paris art, you was the real lollypop; and I +reckoned that if you could do pieces in mud, you could do 'em just as +well in snow." +</P> + +<P> +"Snow!" says she. "Why, I never tried." +</P> + +<P> +Maybe I'd banked too much on Cornelia, or perhaps she was right in +sayin' this was out of her line. Anyway, it was a mighty disappointed +trio that sized her up when I landed her under the porte cochčre. +</P> + +<P> +When she's run her eye over the size and swellness of the place I've +brought her to, and seen a sample of the folks, she looks half scared +to death. And you wouldn't have played her for a fav'rite, either, if +you'd seen the cheap figure she cut, with them big eyes rollin' around, +as if she was huntin' for the nearest way out. But we give her a cup +of hot tea, makes her put on a pair of fleece lined overshoes and +somebody's Persian lamb jacket, and leads her out to make a try for the +championship. +</P> + +<P> +Some of 'em was sorry of her, and tried to be sociable; but others just +stood around and snickered and whispered things behind their hands. +Honest, I could have thrown brickbats at myself for bein' such a mush +head. That wouldn't have helped any though, so I gets busy and rolls +together a couple of chunks of snow about as big as flour barrels and +piles one on top of the other. +</P> + +<P> +"It's up to you, Cornie," says I. "Can't you dig something or other +out of that?" +</P> + +<P> +She don't say whether she can or can't, but just walks around it two or +three times, lookin' at it dreamy, like she was in a trance. Next she +braces up a bit, calls for an old carvin' knife and a kitchen spoon, +and goes to work, the whole push watchin' her as if she was some freak +in a cage. +</P> + +<P> +I pipes off her motions for awhile real hopeful, and then I edges out +where I could look the other way. Why say, all she'd done was to hew +out something that looks like a lot of soap boxes piled up for a +bonfire. It was a case of funk, I could see that; and maybe I wa'n't +feelin' like I'd carried a gold brick down to the subtreasury and asked +for the acid test. +</P> + +<P> +Then I begins to hear the "Oh's!" and "Ah's!" come from the crowd. +First off I thought they was guyin' her, but when I strolls back near +enough for a peek at what she was up to, my mouth comes open, too. +Say, you wouldn't believe it less'n you'd seen it done, but she was +just fetchin' out of that heap of snow, most as quick and easy as if +she was unpackin' it from a crate, the stunningest lookin' altogether +girl that I ever see outside a museum. +</P> + +<P> +I don't know who it was supposed to be, or why. She's holdin' up with +one hand what draperies she's got—which wa'n't any too many—an' with +the other she's reachin' above her head after somethin' or other—maybe +the soap on the top shelf. But she was a beaut, all right. And all +Cornelia was doin' to bring her out was just slashin' away careless +with the knife and spoon handle, hardly stoppin' a second between +strokes. She simply had 'em goggle eyed. I reckon they'd seen things +just as fine and maybe better, but they hadn't had a front seat before, +while a little ninety-pound cinnamon top like Cornelia Ann stepped up +and yanked a whitewashed angel out of a snow heap. +</P> + +<P> +"It's wonderful!" says Mrs. Purdy Pell. +</P> + +<P> +"Looks to me like we had Skippy fingerin' the citrus, don't it?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +The Count he's been standin' there with his mouth open, like the rest +of us, only growin' redder 'n' redder. +</P> + +<P> +But just then Cornelia makes one last swipe, drops her tools, and steps +back to take a view. We all quits to see what's comin' next. Well, +she looks and looks at that Lady Reacher she's dug out, never sayin' a +word; and before we knows it she's slumped right down there in the +snow, with both hands over her face, doin' the weep act like a kid. +</P> + +<P> +In two shakes it was Sadie and Mrs. Purdy Pell to the rescue, one on +each side, while the rest of us gawps on and looks foolish. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it, you poor darling?" says Sadie. +</P> + +<P> +Finally, after a good weep, Cornie unloosens her trouble. "Oh, oh!" +says she. "I just know it's going to rain to-morrow!" +</P> + +<P> +Now wouldn't that give you a foolish fit? +</P> + +<P> +"What of it?" says Sadie. +</P> + +<P> +"That," says she, pointin' to the snow lady. "She'll be gone forever. +Oh, it's wicked, wicked!" +</P> + +<P> +"Well," says I, "she's too big to go in the ice box." +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind, dear," says Mrs. Purdy Pell; "you shall stay right here +and do another one, in solid marble. I'll give you a thousand for a +duplicate of that." +</P> + +<P> +"And then you must do something for me," says Sadie. +</P> + +<P> +"And me, too," says Mrs. Dicky Madison. +</P> + +<P> +I didn't wait to hear any more, for boostin' lady sculpturesses ain't +my reg'lar work. But, from all I hear of Cornelia Ann, she won't paste +labels in any broom fact'ry. +</P> + +<P> +For your simple liver and slow quitter, art's all right; but it's a +long shot, at that. What? +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XVI +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +WHY FERDY DUCKED +</H4> + +<P> +Say, there's no tellin', is there? Sometimes the quietest runnin' +bubbles blows up with the biggest bang. Now look at Ferdy. He was as +retirin' and modest as a new lodge member at his first meetin'. Why, +he's so anxious to dodge makin' a show of himself that when he comes +here for a private course I has to lock the Studio door and post Swifty +Joe on the outside to see that nobody butts in. +</P> + +<P> +All the Dobsons is that way. They're the kind of folks that lives on +Fifth-ave., with the front shades always pulled down, and they shy at +gettin' their names in the papers like it was bein' served with a +summons. +</P> + +<P> +Course, they did have their dose of free advertisin' once, when that +Tootsy Peroxide bobbed up and tried to break old Peter Dobson's will; +but that case happened so long ago, and there's been so many like it +since, that hardly anybody but the Dobsons remembers it. Must have +been a good deal of a jolt at the time, though; for as far as I've +seen, they're nice folks, and the real thing in the fat wad line, +specially Ferdy. He's that genteel and refined he has to have pearl +grey boxin' gloves to match his gym. suit. +</P> + +<P> +Well, I wa'n't thinkin' any of him, or his set, havin' just had a +session with a brewer's son that I've took on durin' the dull season, +when I looks out into the front office and sees my little old Bishop +standin' there moppin' his face. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, Bishop!" I sings out. "Thought you was in Newport, herdin' the +flock." +</P> + +<P> +"So I was, Shorty," says he, "until six hours ago. I came down to look +for a stray lamb." +</P> + +<P> +"Tried Wall Street?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"He is not that kind of a lamb," says the Bishop. "It is Ferdinand +Dobson. Have you seen him recently?" +</P> + +<P> +"What! Ferdy?" says I. "Not for weeks. They're all up at their Lenox +place, ain't they?" +</P> + +<P> +No, they wa'n't. And then the Bishop puts me next to a little news +item that hadn't got into the society column yet. Ferdy, after gettin' +to be most twenty-five, has been hooked. The girl's name was Alicia, +and soon's I heard it I placed her, havin' seen her a few times at +different swell ranches where I've been knockin' around in the +background. As I remembers her, she has one of these long, high toned +faces, and a shape to match—not what you'd call a neck twister, but +somethin' real classy and high browed, just the sort you'd look for +Ferdy to tag. +</P> + +<P> +Seems they'd been doin' the lovey-dovey for more'n a year; but all on +the sly, meetin' each other at afternoon teas, and now and then havin' +a ten-minute hand holdin' match under a palm somewhere. They was so +cute about it that even their folks didn't suspect it was a case of +honey and honey boy; not that anyone would have raised a kick, but +because Ferdy don't want any fuss made about it. +</P> + +<P> +When Alicia's mother gets the facts, though, she writes a new program. +She don't stand for springin' any quiet weddin's on her set. She plans +a big party, where the engagement bulletin is to be flashed on the +screen reg'lar and proper, so's folks can be orderin' their dresses and +weddin' presents. +</P> + +<P> +Ferdy balks some at the thought of bein' dragged to the centre of the +stage; but he grits his teeth and tells 'em that for this once they can +go as far as they like. He even agrees to leave home for a week and +mix it at a big house party, just to get himself broke in to meetin' +strangers. +</P> + +<P> +Up to within two days of the engagement stunt he was behavin' lovely; +and the next thing they knows, just when he should be gettin' ready to +show up at Newport, he can't be found. It has all the looks of his +leavin' his clothes on the bank and jumpin' the night freight. Course, +the Dobsons ain't sayin' a word to Alicia's folks yet. They gets their +friends together to organise a still hunt for Ferdy; and the Bishop +bein' one of the inside circle, he's sent out as head scout. +</P> + +<P> +"And I am at my wits' ends," says he. "No one has seen him in Newport, +and I can't find him at any of his clubs here." +</P> + +<P> +"How about the Fifth-ave. mausoleum?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"His man is there," says the Bishop; "but he seems unable to give me +any information." +</P> + +<P> +"Does, eh?" says I. "Well, you take it from me that if anyone's got a +line on Ferdy, it's that clam faced Kupps of his. He's been trained so +fine in the silence business that he hardly dares open his mouth when +he eats. Go up there and put him through the wringer." +</P> + +<P> +"Do what?" says the Bishop. +</P> + +<P> +"Give him the headquarters quiz," says I. "Tell him you come straight +from mother and sisters, and that Ferdy's got to be found." +</P> + +<P> +"I hardly feel equal to doing just that," says the Bishop in his mild +way. "Now if you could only——" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, sure!" says I. "It'd do me good to take a whirl out of that +Englishman. I'll make him give up!" +</P> + +<P> +He's a bird though, that Kupps. I hadn't talked with him two minutes +before I would have bet my pile he knew all about where Ferdy was +roostin' and what he was up to; but when it come to draggin' out the +details, you might just as well have been tryin' to pry up a pavin' +stone with a fountain pen. Was Ferdy in town, or out of town, and when +would he be back? Kupps couldn't say. He wouldn't even tell how long +it was since he had seen Ferdy last. And say, you know how pig headed +one of them hen brained Cockneys can be? I feels my collar gettin' +tight. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, Hiccups!" says I. "You——" +</P> + +<P> +"Kupps, sir," says he. "Thomas Kupps is my full nyme, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Teacups, then, if that suits you better," says I. "You don't +seem to have got it into your head that the Bishop ain't just buttin' +in here for the fun of the thing. This matter of retrievin' Ferdy is +serious. Now you're sure he didn't leave any private messages, or +notes or anything of that kind?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothink of the sort, sir; nothink whatever," says Kupps. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you just show us up to his rooms," says I, "and we'll have a +look around for ourselves. Eh, Bishop?" +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps it would be the best thing to do," says the Bishop. +</P> + +<P> +Kupps didn't want to do it; but I gives him a look that changes his +mind, and up we goes. I was thinkin' that if Ferdy had got chilly feet +at the last minute and done the deep dive, maybe he'd left a few lines +layin' around his desk. There wa'n't anything in sight, though; +nothin' but a big photograph of a wide, full chested lady, propped up +against the rail. +</P> + +<P> +"That don't look much like the fair Alicia," says I. +</P> + +<P> +The Bishop puts on his nigh-to glasses and says it ain't. He thinks it +must have been took of a lady that he'd seen Ferdy chinnin' at the +house party, where he got his last glimpse of him. +</P> + +<P> +"Good deal of a hummin' bird, she is, eh?" says I, pickin' it up. +"Tutty tut! Look what's here!" Behind it was a photo of Alicia. +</P> + +<P> +"And here's somethin' else," says I. On the back of the big picture +was scribbled, "From Ducky to Ferdy," and the date. +</P> + +<P> +"Yesterday!" gasps the Bishop. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well!" says I. "That's advancin' the spark some! If he meets +her only a week or so ago, and by yesterday she's got so far as bein' +his ducky, it looks like Alicia'd have to get out and take the car +ahead." +</P> + +<P> +The Bishop acts stunned, gazin' from me to the picture, as if he'd been +handed one on the dizzy bone. "You—you don't mean," says he, "that +you suspect Ferdy of—of——" +</P> + +<P> +"I hate to think it," says I; "but this looks like a quick shift. +Kupps, who's Ferdy's lady friend?" +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Dobson didn't sye, sir," says Kupps. +</P> + +<P> +"Very thoughtless of him," says I. "Come on, Bishop, we'll take this +along as a clue and see what Vandy has to say." +</P> + +<P> +He's a human kodak, Vandy is—makes a livin' takin' pictures for the +newspapers. You can't break into the swell push, or have an argument +with Teddy, or be tried for murder, without Vandy's showin' up to make +a few negatives. So I flashes the photo of Ducky on him. +</P> + +<P> +"Who's the wide one?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, don't you know who that is, Shorty?" says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, do you think I'd be chasin' up any flashlight pirate like you, if +I did?" says I. "What's her name?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's Madam Brooklini, of course," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"What, the thousand-dollar-a-minute warbler?" says I. "And me seein' +her lithographs all last winter! Gee, Bishop! I thought you followed +grand opera closer'n that." +</P> + +<P> +"I should have recalled her," says the Bishop; "but I see so many +faces——" +</P> + +<P> +"Only a few like that, though," says I. "Vandy, where do you reckon +Mrs. Greater New York could be located just about now?" +</P> + +<P> +Vandy has the whole story down pat. Seems she's been over here out of +season bringin' suit against her last manager; but havin' held him up +for everything but the gold fillin' in his front teeth, she is booked +to sail back to her Irish castle at four in the mornin'. He knows the +steamer and the pier number. +</P> + +<P> +"Four A. M., eh?" says I. "That means she's likely to be aboard now, +gettin' settled. Bishop, if that Ducky business was a straight steer, +it's ten to one that a friend of ours is there sayin' good-bye. Shall +we follow it up?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can hardly credit it," says he. "However, if you think——" +</P> + +<P> +"It's no cinch," says I; "but this is a case where it won't do to bank +on past performances. From all the signs, Ferdy has struck a new gait." +</P> + +<P> +The Bishop throws up both hands. "How clearly you put it," says he, +"and how stupid of me not to understand! Should we visit the steamer, +or not?" +</P> + +<P> +"Bishop," says I, "you're a good guesser. We should." +</P> + +<P> +And there wa'n't any trouble about locatin' the high artist. All we +has to do is to walk along the promenade deck until we comes to a suite +where the cabin stewards was poppin' in and out, luggin' bunches of +flowers and baskets of fruit, and gettin' the book signed for +telegrams. The Bishop was for askin' questions and sendin' in his +card; but I gets him by the sleeve and tows him right in. +</P> + +<P> +I hadn't made any wrong guess, either. There in the corner of the +state room, planted in a big wicker arm chair, with a jar of long +stemmed American beauts on one side, was Madam Brooklini. On the other +side, sittin' edgeways on a canvas stool and holdin' her left hand, was +Ferdy. +</P> + +<P> +I could make a guess as to how the thing had come around; Ferdy +breakin' from his shell at the house party, runnin' across Brooklini +under a soft light, and losin' his head the minute she begins cooin' +low notes to him. That's what she was doin' now, him gazin' up at her, +and her gazin' down at him. It was about the mushiest performance I +ever see. +</P> + +<P> +"Ahem!" says the Bishop, clearin' his throat and blushin' a lovely +maroon colour. "I—er—we did not intend to intrude; but——" +</P> + +<P> +Then it was up to Ferdy to show the red. He opens his mouth and gawps +at us for a whole minute before he can get out a word. "Why—why, +Bishop!" he pants. "What—how——" +</P> + +<P> +Before he has time to choke, or the Bishop can work up a case of +apoplexy, I jumps into the ring. "Excuse us doin' the goat act," says +I; "but the Bishop has got some word for you from the folks at home, +and he wants to get it off his mind." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, friends of yours, Ferdy?" says Madam Brooklini, throwin' us about +four hundred dollars' worth of smile. +</P> + +<P> +There was nothin' for Ferdy to do then but pull himself together and +make us all acquainted. And say, I never shook hands with so much +jewelry all at once before! She has three or four bunches of sparks on +each finger, not to mention a thumb ring. Oh, there wa'n't any +mistakin' who skimmed the cream off the box office receipts after you'd +took a look at her! +</P> + +<P> +And for a straight front Venus she was the real maraschino. Course, +even if the complexion was true, you wouldn't put her down as one of +this spring's hatch; but for a broad, heavy weight girl she was the +fancy goods. And when she cuts loose with that eighteen-carat voice of +hers, and begins to roll them misbehavin' eyes, you forgot how the +chair was creakin' under her. The Bishop has all he can do to remember +why he was there; but he manages to get out that he'd like a few +minutes on the side with Ferdy. +</P> + +<P> +"If your message relates in any way to my return to Newport," says +Ferdy, stiffenin' up, "it is useless. I am not going there!" +</P> + +<P> +"But, my dear Ferdy——" begins the Bishop, when the lady cuts in. +</P> + +<P> +"That's right, Bishop," says she. "I do hope you can persuade the +silly boy to stop following me around and teasing me to marry him." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, naughty!" says I under my breath. +</P> + +<P> +The Bishop just looks from one to the other, and then he braces up and +says, "Ferdinand, this is not possible, is it?" +</P> + +<P> +It was up to Ferdy again. He gives a squirm or two as he catches the +Bishop's eye, and the dew was beginnin' to break out on his noble brow, +when Ducky reaches over and gives his hand a playful little squeeze. +That was a nerve restorer. +</P> + +<P> +"Bishop," says he, "I must tell you that I am madly, hopelessly, in +love with this lady, and that I mean to make her my wife." +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't he the dearest booby you ever saw!" gurgles Madam Brooklini. +"He has been saying nothing but that for the last five days. And now +he says he is going to follow me across the ocean and keep on saying +it. But you must stop, Ferdy; really, you must." +</P> + +<P> +"Never!" says Ferdy, gettin' a good grip on the cut glass exhibit. +</P> + +<P> +"Such persistence!" says Ducky, shiftin' her searchlights from him to +us and back again. "And he knows I have said I would not marry again. +I mustn't. My managers don't like it. Why, every time I marry they +raise a most dreadful row. But what can I do? Ferdy insists, you see; +and if he keeps it up, I just know I shall have to take him. Please be +good, Ferdy!" +</P> + +<P> +Wouldn't that make you seasick? But the Bishop comes to the front like +he'd heard a call to man the lifeboat. +</P> + +<P> +"It may influence you somewhat," says he, "to learn that for nearly a +year Ferdinand has been secretly engaged to a very estimable young +woman." +</P> + +<P> +"I know," says she, tearin' off a little giggle. "Ferdy has told me +all about Alicia. What a wicked, deceitful wretch he is! isn't he? +Aren't you ashamed, Ferdy, to act so foolish over me?" +</P> + +<P> +If Ferdy was, he hid it well. All he seemed willin' to do was to sit +there, holdin' her hand and lookin' as soft as a custard pie, while the +Lady Williamsburg tells what a tough job she has dodgin' matrimony, on +account of her yieldin' disposition. I didn't know whether to hide my +face in my hat, or go out and lean over the rail. I guess the Bishop +wa'n't feelin' any too comfortable either; but he was there to do his +duty, so he makes one last stab. +</P> + +<P> +"Ferdinand," says he, "your mother asked me to say that——" +</P> + +<P> +"Tell her I was never so happy in my life," says Ferdy, pattin' a +broadside of solitaires and marquise rings. +</P> + +<P> +"Come on, Bishop," says I. "There's only one cure for a complaint of +that kind, and it looks like Ferdy was bound to take it." +</P> + +<P> +We was just startin' for the deck, when the door was blocked by a +steward luggin' in another sheaf of roses, and followed by a couple of +middle aged, jolly lookin' gents, smokin' cigars and marchin' arm in +arm. One was a tall, well built chap in a silk hat; the other was a +short, pussy, ruby beaked gent in French flannels and a Panama. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, sweety!" says the tall one. +</P> + +<P> +"Peekaboo, dearie!" sings out the other. +</P> + +<P> +"Dick! Jimmy!" squeals Madam Brooklini, givin' a hand to each of 'em, +and leavin' Ferdy holdin' the air. "Oh, how delightfully thoughtful of +you!" +</P> + +<P> +"Tried to ring in old Grubby, too," says Dick; "but he couldn't get +away. He chipped in for the flowers, though." +</P> + +<P> +"Dear old Grubby!" says she. "Let's see, he was my third, wasn't he?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, dearie!" says Dicky boy, "I was Number Three. Grubby was your +second." +</P> + +<P> +"Really!" says she. "But I do get you so mixed. Oh!" and then she +remembers Ferdy. "Ducky, dear," she goes on, "I do want you to know +these gentlemen—two of my former husbands." +</P> + +<P> +"Wha-a-at!" gasps Ferdy, his eyes buggin' out. +</P> + +<P> +I hears the Bishop groan and flop on a seat behind me. Honest, it was +straight! Dick and Jimmy was a couple of discards, old Grubby was +another, and inside of a minute blamed if she hadn't mentioned a +fourth, that was planted somewhere on the other side. Course, for a +convention there wouldn't have been a straight quorum; but there was +enough answerin' roll call to make it pass for a reunion, all right. +</P> + +<P> +And it was a peach while it lasted. The pair of has-beens didn't have +long to stay, one havin' to get back to Chicago and the other bein' +billed to start on a yachtin' trip. They'd just run over to say by-by; +and tell how they was plannin' an annual dinner, with the judges and +divorce lawyers for guests. Yes, yes, they was a jolly couple, them +two! All the Bishop could do was lay back and fan himself as he +listens, once in awhile whisperin' to himself, "My, my!" As for Ferdy, +he looked like he'd been hypnotised and was waitin' to be woke up. +</P> + +<P> +The pair was sayin' good-bye for the third and last time, when in +rushes a high strung, nervous young feller with a pencil behind his ear +and a pad in his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Larry, what is it now?" snaps out Madam Brooklini, doin' the +lightnin' change act with her voice. "I am engaged, you see." +</P> + +<P> +"Can't help it," says Larry. "Got fourteen reporters and eight +snapshot men waiting to do the sailing story for the morning editions. +Shall I bring 'em up?" +</P> + +<P> +"But I am entertaining two of my ex-husbands," says the lady, "and——" +</P> + +<P> +"Great!" says Larry. "We'll put 'em in the group. Who's the other?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, that's only Ferdy," says she. "I haven't married him yet." +</P> + +<P> +"Bully!" says Larry. "We can get half a column of space out of him +alone. He goes in the pictures too. We'll label him 'Next,' or +'Number Five Elect,' or something like that. Line 'em up outside, will +you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, pshaw!" says Madam Brooklini. "What a nuisance these press agents +are! But Larry is so enterprising. Come, we'll make a splendid group, +the four of us. Come, Ferdy." +</P> + +<P> +"Reporters!" Ferdy lets it come out of him kind of hoarse and husky, +like he'd just seen a ghost. +</P> + +<P> +But I knew the view that he was gettin'; his name in the headlines, his +picture on the front page, and all the chappies at the club and the +whole Newport crowd chucklin' and nudgin' each other over the story of +how he was taggin' around after an op'ra singer that had a syndicate of +second hand husbands. +</P> + +<P> +"No, no, no!" says he. It was the only time I ever heard Ferdy come +anywhere near a yell, and I wouldn't have believed he could have done +it if I hadn't had my eyes on him as he jumps clear of the corner, +makes a flyin' break through the bunch, and streaks it down the deck +for the forward companionway. +</P> + +<P> +Me and the Bishop didn't wait to see the finish of that group picture. +We takes after Ferdy as fast as the Bishop's wind would let us, he +bein' afraid that Ferdy was up to somethin' desperate, like jumpin' off +the dock. All Ferdy does, though, is jump into a cab and drive for +home, us trailin' on behind. We was close enough at the end of the run +to see him bolt through the door; but Kupps tells us that Mr. Dobson +has left orders not to let a soul into the house. +</P> + +<P> +Early next mornin', though, the Bishop comes around and asks me to go +up while he tries again, and after we've stood on the steps for ten +minutes, waitin' for Kupps to take in a note, we're shown up to Ferdy's +bed room. He's in silk pajamas and bath robe, lookin' white and hollow +eyed. Every mornin' paper in town is scattered around the room, and +not one of 'em with less than a whole column about how Madam Brooklini +sailed for Europe. +</P> + +<P> +"Any of 'em got anything to say about Number Five?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank heaven, no!" groans Ferdy. "Bishop, what do you suppose poor +dear Alicia thinks of me, though?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, my son," says the Bishop, his little eyes sparklin', "I suppose +she is thinking that it is 'most time for you to arrive in Newport, as +you promised." +</P> + +<P> +"Then she doesn't know what an ass I've been?" says Ferdy. "No one has +told her?" +</P> + +<P> +"Shorty, have you?" says the Bishop. +</P> + +<P> +And when Ferdy sees me grinnin', and it breaks on him that me and the +Bishop are the only ones that know about this dippy streak of his, he's +the thankfulest cuss you ever saw. Alicia? He could hardly get there +quick enough to suit him; and the knot's to be tied inside of the next +month. +</P> + +<P> +"Marryin's all right," says I to Ferdy, "so long's you don't let the +habit grow on you." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XVII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +WHEN SWIFTY WAS GOING SOME +</H4> + +<P> +Say, I don't play myself for any human cheese tester, but I did think I +had Swifty Joe Gallagher all framed up long ago. Not that I ever made +any special study of Swifty; but knowin' him for as long as I have, and +havin' him helpin' me in the Studio, I got the notion that I was wise +to most of his curves. I've got both hands in the air now, though. +</P> + +<P> +Goin' back over the last few months too, I can see where I might have +got a line on him before. But, oh no! Nothin' could jar me out of +believin' he wouldn't ever run against the form sheet I'd made out. +The first glimmer I gets was when I finds Joe in the front office one +day, planted before the big lookin' glass, havin' a catch as catch can +with his hair. +</P> + +<P> +"Hully chee!" says he, dippin' one of my military brushes in the wash +basin. "That's fierce, ain't it, Shorty?" +</P> + +<P> +"If it's your nerve in helpin' yourself to my bureau knickknacks," says +I, "I agree with you." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, can the croak!" says he. "I ain't eatin' the bristles off, am I!" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I'm not fussin'," says I; "but what you need to use on that thatch +is a currycomb and a lawn rake." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, say!" says he, "I don't see as it's so much worse than others I +know of. It's all right when I can get it to lay down in the back. +How's that, now?" +</P> + +<P> +"Great!" says I. "Couldn't be better if you'd used fish glue." +</P> + +<P> +Maybe you never noticed how Swifty's top piece is finished off? He has +a mud coloured growth that's as soft as a shoe brush. It behaves well +enough when it's dry; but after he's got it good and wet it breaks up +into ridges that overlap, same as shingles on a roof. +</P> + +<P> +But then, you wouldn't be lookin' for any camel's hair finish on a nut +like Swifty's—not with that face. Course, he ain't to blame for the +undershot jaw, nor the way his ears lop, nor the width of his smile. +We don't all have gifts like that, thanks be! And it wa'n't on purpose +Swifty had his nose bent in. That come from not duckin' quick enough +when Gans swung with his right. +</P> + +<P> +So long as he kept in his class, though, and wa'n't called on to +understudy Kyrle Bellew, Swifty met all the specifications. If I was +wantin' a parlour ornament, I might shy some at Swifty's style of +beauty; but showin' bilious brokers how to handle the medicine ball is +a job that don't call for an exchange of photographs. He may have an +outline that looks like a map of a stone quarry, and perhaps his ways +are a little on the fritz, but Swifty's got good points that I couldn't +find bunched again if I was to hunt through a crowd. So, when I find +him worryin' over the set of his back hair, I gets interested. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the coiffure for, anyway?" says I. "Goin' to see the girl, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +Course, that was a josh. You can't look at Swifty and try to think of +him doin' the Romeo act without grinnin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Ahr, chee!" says he. +</P> + +<P> +Now, I've sprung that same jolly on him a good many times; but I never +see him work up a colour over it before. Still, the idea of him +gettin' kittenish was too much of a strain on the mind for me to follow +up. +</P> + +<P> +It was the same about his breakin' into song. He'd never done that, +either, until one mornin' I hears a noise comin' from the back room +that sounds like some one blowin' on a bottle. I steps over to the +door easy, and hanged if I didn't make out that it was Swifty takin' a +crack at something that might be, "Oh, how I love my Lulu!" +</P> + +<P> +"You must," says I, "if it makes you feel as bad as all that. Does +Lulu know it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ahr, chee!" says he. +</P> + +<P> +Ever hear Swifty shoot that over his shoulder without turnin' his head? +Talk about your schools of expression! None of 'em could teach anyone +to put as much into two words as Swifty does into them. They're a +whole vocabulary, the way he uses 'em. +</P> + +<P> +"Was you tryin' to sing," says I, "or just givin' an imitation of a +steamboat siren on a foggy night?" +</P> + +<P> +But all I could get out of Swifty was another "Ahr, chee!" He was too +happy and satisfied to join in any debate, and inside of ten minutes +he's at it again; so I lets him spiel away. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," thinks I, "I'm glad my joy don't have any such effect on me as +that. I s'pose I can stand it, if he can." +</P> + +<P> +It wa'n't more'n two nights later that I gets another shock. I was +feelin' a little nervous, to begin with, for I'd billed myself to do a +stunt I don't often tackle. It was nothin' else than pilotin' a fluff +delegation to some art studio doin's. Sounds like a Percy job, don't +it? But it was somethin' put up to me in a way I couldn't dodge. +</P> + +<P> +Maybe you remember me tellin' you awhile back about Cornelia Ann +Belter? She was the Minnekeegan girl that had a room on the top floor +over the Physical Culture Studio, and was makin' a stab at the +sculpture game—the one that we got out to Rockywold as a ringer in the +snow carvin' contest. Got her placed now? +</P> + +<P> +Well, you know how that little trick of makin' a snow angel brought her +in orders from Mrs. Purdy Pell, and Sadie, and the rest? And she +didn't do a thing but make good, either. I hadn't seen her since she +quit the building; but I'd heard how she was doin' fine, and here the +other day I gets a card sayin' she'd be pleased to have my company on a +Wednesday night at half after eight, givin' an address on Fifth avenue. +</P> + +<P> +"Corny must be carvin' the cantaloup," thinks I, and then forgets all +about it until Sadie holds me up and wants to know if I'm goin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Nix," says I. "Them art studio stunts is over my head." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, pshaw!" says Sadie. "How long since you have been afraid of Miss +Belter? Didn't you and I help her to get her start? She'll feel real +badly if you don't come." +</P> + +<P> +"She'll get over that," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"But Mrs. Pell and I will have to go alone if you don't come with us," +says she. "Mr. Pell is out of town, and Pinckney is too busy with +those twins and that Western girl of his. You've got to come, Shorty." +</P> + +<P> +"That settles it," says I. "Why didn't you say so first off?" +</P> + +<P> +So that was what I was doin' at quarter of eight that night, in my open +face vest and dinky little tuxedo, hustlin' along 42d-st., wonderin' if +the folks took me for a head waiter late to his job. You see, after I +gets all ragged out I finds I've left my patent leathers at the Studio. +Swifty has said he was goin' to take the night off too, so I'm some +surprised to see the front office all lit up like there was a ball +goin' on up there. I takes the steps three at a time, expectin' to +find a couple of yeggs movin' out the safe; but when I throws the door +open what should I see, planted in front of the mirror, but Swifty Joe. +</P> + +<P> +Not that I was sure it was him till I'd had a second look. It was +Swifty's face, and Swifty's hair, but the costume was a philopena. It +would have tickled a song and dance artist to death. Anywhere off'n +the variety stage, unless it was at a Fourth Ward chowder party, it +would have drawn a crowd. Perhaps you can throw up a view of a +pin-head check in brown and white, blocked off into four-inch squares +with red and green lines; a double breasted coat with scalloped cuffs +on the sleeves, and silk faced lapels; a pink and white shirt striped +like an awnin'; a spotted butterfly tie; yellow shoes in the latest +oleomargarin tint; and a caffy-o-lay bean pot derby with a half-inch +brim to finish off the picture. It was a sizzler, all right. +</P> + +<P> +For a minute I stands there with my mouth open and my eyes bugged, +takin' in the details. If I could, I would have skipped without sayin' +a word, for I see I'd butted in on somethin' that was sacred and +secret. But Swifty's heard me come in, and he's turned around waitin' +for me to give a verdict. Not wantin' to hurt his feelin's, I has to +go careful. +</P> + +<P> +"Swifty," says I, "is that you?" +</P> + +<P> +He only grins kind of foolish, sticks his chin out, and saws his neck +against his high collar, like a cow usin' a scratchin' post. +</P> + +<P> +"Blamed if I didn't take you for Henry Dixey, first shot," says I, +walkin' around and gettin' a new angle. "Gee! but that's a swell +outfit!" +</P> + +<P> +"Think so?" says he. "Will it make 'em sit up?" +</P> + +<P> +"Will it!" says I. "Why, you'll have 'em on their toes." +</P> + +<P> +I didn't know how far I could go on that line without givin' him a +grouch; but he seems to like it, so I tears off some more of the same. +</P> + +<P> +"Swifty," says I, "you've got a bunch of tiger lilies lookin' like a +faded tea rose. You've got a get-up there that would win out at a +Cakewalk, and if you'll take it over to Third-ave. Sunday afternoon +you'll be the best bet on the board." +</P> + +<P> +"Honest?" says he, grinnin' way back to his ears. "I was after +somethin' a little fancy, I'll own up." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you got it," says I. "Where'd you have it built?" +</P> + +<P> +"Over the bridge," says he. +</P> + +<P> +Say, it's a wonder some of them South Brooklyn cloth carpenters don't +get the blind staggers, turnin' out clothes like that; ain't it? +</P> + +<P> +"Must be some special occasion?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"D'jer think I'd be blowin' myself like this if it wa'n't?" says he. +"You bet, it's extra special." +</P> + +<P> +"With a skirt in the background?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Uh-huh," says he, springin' another grin. +</P> + +<P> +"Naughty, naughty!" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Ahr, say," says he, tryin' to look peevish, "you oughter know better'n +that! You never heard of me chasin' the Lizzies yet, did you? This is +a real lady,—nice and classy, see?" +</P> + +<P> +"Some one on Fifth-ave.?" says I, unwindin' a little string. But he +whirls round like I'd jabbed him with a pin. +</P> + +<P> +"Who tipped you off to that?" says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Guessed it by the clothes," says I. +</P> + +<P> +That simmers him down, and I could see he wanted to be confidential the +worst way. He wouldn't let go of her name; but I gathers it's some one +he's known for quite a spell, and that she's sent him a special invite +for this evenin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Asks me to call around, see?" says he. "Now, I put it up to you, +Shorty, don't that look like I got some standin' with her?" +</P> + +<P> +"She must think pretty well of you, that's a fact," says I, "and I +judge that you're willin' to be her honey boy. Ain't got the ring in +your vest pocket, have you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe that ain't so much of a joke as you think," says he, settin' the +bean pod lid a little more on one side. +</P> + +<P> +"Z-z-z-ipp!" says I. "That's goin' some! Well, well, but you are a +cute one, Swifty. Why, I never suspicioned such a thing. Luck to you, +my lad, luck to you!" and I pats him on the back. "I don't know what +chances you had before; but in that rig you can't lose." +</P> + +<P> +"I guess it helps," says he, twistin' his neck to get a back view. +</P> + +<P> +He was puttin' on the last touches when I left. Course, I was some +stunned, specially by the Fifth-ave. part of it. But then, it's a long +street, and it's gettin' so now that all kinds lives on it. +</P> + +<P> +I was a little behind sched. when I gets to Sherry's, where I was to +pick up Sadie and Mrs. Purdy Pell; but at that it was ten or fifteen +minutes before they gets the tourin' car called up and we're all tucked +away inside. It don't take us long to cover the distance, though, and +at twenty to nine we hauls up at Miss Belter's number. I was just +goin' to pile out when I gets a glimpse of a pair of bright yellow +shoes carryin' a human checker board. +</P> + +<P> +"S-s-s-sh!" says I to the ladies. "Wait up a second till we see where +he goes." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, who is it?" says Sadie. +</P> + +<P> +"Swifty Joe," says I. "You might not think it from the rainbow +uniform, but it's him. That's the way he dresses the part when he +starts out to kneel to his lady love." +</P> + +<P> +"Really!" says Mrs. Pell. "Is he going to do that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Got it straight from him," says I. "There! he's worked his courage +up. Now he takes the plunge." +</P> + +<P> +"Why!" says Sadie, "that is Miss Belter's number he's going into." +</P> + +<P> +"She don't live on all five floors, does she?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"No; but it's odd, just the same," says she. +</P> + +<P> +I thought so myself; so I gives 'em the whole story of how I come to +know about what he was up to. By that time he was climbing the stairs, +and as soon as we finds the right door I forgets all about Swifty in +sizin' up Cornelia Ann. +</P> + +<P> +Say, what a difference a little of the right kind of dry goods will +make in a girl, won't it? The last I saw of Cornie she was wearin' a +skirt that sagged in the back, a punky lid that might have come off the +top of an ash can, and shoes that had run over at the heel. +</P> + +<P> +But prosperity had sure blown her way, and she'd bought a wardrobe to +suit the times. Not that she'd gone and loaded herself down like she +was a window display. It was just a cucumber green sort of cheese +cloth that floated around her, and there wa'n't a frill on it except +some silvery braid where the square hole had been chopped out to let +her head and part of her shoulders through. But at that it didn't need +any Paris tag. +</P> + +<P> +And say, I'd always had an idea that Cornelia Ann was rated about third +row back. Seein' the way she showed up there, though, with all that +cinnamon coloured hair of hers piled on top of her head, and her big +eyes glistenin', I had to revise the frame up. It didn't take me long +to find out she'd shook the shrinkin' violet game, too. She steps up +and gives us the glad hand and the gurgly jolly just as if she'd been +doin' it all her life. +</P> + +<P> +It wa'n't any cheap hang-out that Cornie has tacked her name plate on, +either. There was expensive rugs on the floor, and brass lamps hangin' +from the ceilin', and pieces of tin armor hung around on the walls, +with nary a sign of an oil stove or a foldin' bed. +</P> + +<P> +A lot of folks was already on the ground. They was swells too, and +they was floatin' around so thick that it was two or three minutes +before I gets a view of what was sittin' under the big yellow sik lamp +shade in the corner. Say, who do you guess? Swifty Joe! Honest, for +a minute I thought I must be havin' a nerve spasm and seein' things +that wa'n't so. But it was him, all right; big as life, and lookin' as +prominent as a soap ad. on the back cover of a magazine. +</P> + +<P> +There was plenty of shady places in the room that he might have picked, +but he has hunted out the bright spot. He's sittin' on one of these +funny cross legged Roman stools, with his toes turned in, and them +grid-iron pants pulled up to show about five inches of MacGregor plaid +socks. And he has a satisfied look on his face that I couldn't account +for no way. +</P> + +<P> +Course, I thinks right off that he's broke into the wrong ranch and is +waitin' for some one to come and show him the way out. And then, all +of a sudden, I begins to remember things. You know, it was Swifty that +Cornelia Ann used to get to pose for her when she had the top floor +back in our building. She made an embossed clay picture of him that +Joe used to gaze at by the hour. And once he showed me her photo that +she'd given him. Then there was the special invite he'd been tellin' +me about. Not bein' used to gettin' such things, he'd mistook that +card to her studio openin' as a sort of private billy ducks, and he'd +built up a dream about him and her havin' a hand-holdin' session all to +themselves. +</P> + +<P> +"Great cats!" thinks I. "Can it be Cornelia Ann he's gone on?" +</P> + +<P> +Well, all you had to do to get the answer was to watch Swifty follow +her around with his eyes. You'd thought, findin' himself in a bunch of +top-notchers like that, and rigged out the way he was, he'd been +feelin' like a green strawb'ry in the bottom of the basket. But +nothin' of that kind had leaked through his thick skull. Cornie was +there, and he was there, dressed accordin' to his own designs, and he +was contented and happy as a turtle on a log, believin' the rest of us +had only butted in. +</P> + +<P> +I was feelin' all cut up over his break, and tryin' to guess how +Cornelia was standin' it, when she floats up to me and says: +</P> + +<P> +"Wasn't it sweet of Mr. Gallagher to come? Have you seen him?" +</P> + +<P> +"Seen him!" says I. "You don't notice any bandage over my eyes, do +you? Notice the get up. Why, he looks like a section of a billboard." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I don't mind his clothes a bit," says she. "I think he's real +picturesque. Besides, I haven't forgotten that he used to pose for me +when hiring models meant going without meals. I wish you would see +that he doesn't get lonesome before I have a chance to speak to him +again." +</P> + +<P> +"He don't look like he needed any chirkin' up," says I; "but I'll go +give him the howdy." +</P> + +<P> +So I trots over to the yellow shade and ranges myself up in front of +him. "You might's well own up, Swifty," says I. "Is Cornie the one?" +</P> + +<P> +"Uh-huh," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Told her about it yet?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Ahr, chee!" says he. "Give a guy a chance." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure," says I. "But go slow, Joey, go slow." +</P> + +<P> +I don't know how it happened, for all I told about it was Sadie and +Mrs. Purdy Pell; but it wa'n't long before everyone in the joint was +next to Swifty, and was pipin' him off. They all has to be introduced +and make a try at gettin' him to talk. For awhile he has the time of +his life. Mostly he just grins; but now and then he throws in an "Ahr, +chee!" that knocks 'em silly. +</P> + +<P> +The only one that don't fall for what's up is Cornelia Ann. She gets +him to help her pass out the teacups and the cake, and tells everyone +about how Swifty helped her out on the model business when she was +livin' on pickled pigs' feet and crackers. Fin'lly folks begins to dig +out their wraps and come up to tell her how they'd had a bully time. +But Joe never makes a move. +</P> + +<P> +Sadie and Mrs. Pell wa'n't in any hurry either, and the first thing I +knows there's only the five of us left. I see Sadie lookin' from Joe +to Cornie, and then passin' Mrs. Pell the smile. Cornelia Ann sees it +too, and she has a synopsis of the precedin' chapters all in a minute. +But she don't get flustered a bit. She sails over to the coat room, +gets Swifty's lid, and comes luggin' it out. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm awfully glad you came, Mr. Gallagher," says she, handin' out the +bean pot, "and I hope to see you again when I have another +reception—next year." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh?" says Swifty, like he was wakin' up from a dream. "Next year! +Why, I thought that—" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, but you shouldn't," says she. "Good night." +</P> + +<P> +Then he sees the hat, and a light breaks. He grabs the lid and makes a +dash for the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't he odd?" says Cornelia. +</P> + +<P> +Well say, I didn't know whether I'd get word that night that Swifty had +jumped off the bridge, or had gone back to the fusel oil. He didn't do +either one, though; but when he shows up at the Studio next mornin' he +was wearin' his old clothes, and his face looks like he was foreman of +a lemon grove. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, brace up, Swifty," says I. "There's others." +</P> + +<P> +He just shakes his head and sighs, and goes off into a corner as if he +wanted to die slow and lingerin'. +</P> + +<P> +Then Saturday afternoon, when it turns off so warm and we begins the +noon shut down, I thinks I'll take a little run down to Coney and hear +the frankfurters bark. I was watchin' 'em load the boys and girls into +a roller coaster, when along comes a car that has something familiar in +it. Here's Swifty, wearin' his brass band suit, a cigar stickin' out +of one corner of his mouth, and an arm around a fluffy haired Flossie +girl that was chewin' gum and wearin' a fruit basket hat. They was +lookin' happy. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, Swifty," I sings out, "don't forget about Cornie." +</P> + +<P> +"Ahr, chee!" says he, and off they goes down the chute for another +ten-cent ride. +</P> + +<P> +But say, I'm glad all them South Brooklyn art clothes ain't goin' to be +wasted. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap18"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XVIII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +PLAYING WILBUR TO SHOW +</H4> + +<P> +It's all right. You can put the Teddy sign on anything you read in the +papers about matrimony's bein' a lost art, and collectin' affinities +bein' the latest fad; for the plain, straight, old, +love-honour-and-cherish business is still in the ring. I have +Pinckney's word for it, and Pinckney ought to know. Oh, yes, he's an +authority now. Sure, it was Miss Gerty, the twin tamer. And say, what +do you suppose they did with that gift pair of terrors, Jack and Jill, +while they was makin' the weddin' tour? Took 'em along. Honest, they +travels for ten weeks with two kids, five trunks, and a couple of maids. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't look like no honeymoon couple," says I, when I meets 'em in +Jersey City. "I'd take you for an explorin' party." +</P> + +<P> +"We are," says Pinckney, grinnin'. "We've been explorin' the western +part of the United States. We have discovered Colorado Springs, the +Yosemite, and a lot more very interesting places, all over again." +</P> + +<P> +"You'll be makin' a new map, I expect," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"It would be new to most New Yorkers," says he. +</P> + +<P> +And I've been tryin' ever since to figure out whether or no that's a +knock. Now and then I has a suspicion that Pinckney's acquired some +new bug since he's been out through the alfalfa belt; but maybe his +idea of the West's bein' such a great place only comes from the fact +that Gerty was produced there. Perhaps it's all he says too; but I +notice he seems mighty glad to get back to Main-st., N. Y. You'd +thought so if you'd seen the way he trails me around over town the +first day after he lands. We was on the go from noon until one A. M., +and his cab bill must have split a twenty up fine. +</P> + +<P> +What tickles me, though, is that he's the same old Pinckney, only more +so. Bein' married don't seem to weigh no heavier on his mind than +joinin' another club. So, instead of me losin' track of him +altogether, he shows up here at the Studio oftener than before. And +that's how it was he happens to be on hand when this overgrown party +from the ham orchard blows in. +</P> + +<P> +Just at the minute, though, Pinckney was back in the dressin' room, +climbin' into his frock coat after our little half-hour session on the +mat; so Swifty Joe and me was the reception committee. +</P> + +<P> +As the door opens I looks up to see about seven foot of cinnamon brown +plaid cloth,—a little the homeliest stuff I ever see used for +clothes,—a red and green necktie, a face the colour of a ripe tomato, +and one of these buckskin tinted felt hats on top of that. Measurin' +from the peak of the Stetson to the heels of his No. 14 Cinderellas, he +must have been some under ninety inches, but not much. And he has all +the grace of a water tower. Whoever tried to build that suit for him +must have got desperate and cut it out with their eyes shut; for it fit +him only in spots, and them not very near together. But what can you +do with a pair of knock knees and shoulders that slope like a hip roof? +</P> + +<P> +Not expectin' any freaks that day, and bein' too stunned to make any +crack on our own hook, me and Swifty does the silent gawp, and waits to +see if it can talk. For a minute he looks like he can't. He just +stands here with his mouth half open, grinnin' kind of sheepish and +good natured, as if we could tell what he wanted just by his looks. +Fin'lly I breaks the spell. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, Sport," says I. "If you see any dust on top of that +chandelier, don't mention it." +</P> + +<P> +He don't make any reply to that, just grins a little wider; so I gives +him a new deal. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll find Huber's museum down on 14th-st.," says I. "Or have you +got a Bowery engagement?" +</P> + +<P> +This seems to twist him up still more; but it pulls the cork. "Excuse +me, friends," says he; "but I'm tryin' to round up an eatin' house that +used to be hereabouts." +</P> + +<P> +"Eatin' house?" says I. "If you mean the fried egg parlour that was on +the ground floor, that went out of business months ago. But there's +lots more just as good around on Sixth-ave., and some that carry stock +enough to fill you up part way, I guess." +</P> + +<P> +"I wa'n't lookin' to grub up just yet," says he. "I was huntin' +for—for some one that worked there." +</P> + +<P> +And say, you wouldn't have thought anyone with a natural sunset colour +like that could lay on a blush. But he does, and it's like throwin' +the red calcium on a brick wall. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, tush, tush!" says I. "You don't mean to tell me a man of your +size is trailin' some Lizzie Maud?" +</P> + +<P> +He cants his head on one side, pulls out a blue silk handkerchief, and +begins to wind it around his fore finger, like a bashful kid that's +been caught passin' a note in school. +</P> + +<P> +"Her—her name's Zylphina," says he,—"Zylphina Beck." +</P> + +<P> +"Gee!" says I. "Sounds like a new kind of music box. No relation, I +hope?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not yet," says he, swingin' his shoulders; "but we've swapped rings." +</P> + +<P> +"Of all the cut-ups!" says I. "And just what part of the plowed fields +do you and Zylphina hail from?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, I'm from Hoxie," says he, as though that told the whole story. +</P> + +<P> +"Do tell!" says I. "Is that a flag station or just a four corners? +Somewhere in Ohio, ain't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sheridan County, Kansas," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well!" says I. "Now I can account for your size. Have to grow +tall out there, don't you, so's not to get lost in the wheat patch?" +</P> + +<P> +Say, for a josh consumer, he was the easiest ever. All he does is +stand there and grin, like he was the weak end of a variety team. But +it seems a shame to crowd a willin' performer; so I was just tellin' +him he'd better go out and hunt up a city directory in some drug store, +when Pinckney shows up, lookin' interested. +</P> + +<P> +"There!" says I. "Here's a man now that'll lead you straight to +Zylphina in no time. Pinckney, let me make you acquainted with +Mister—er——" +</P> + +<P> +"Cobb," says the Hoxie gent, "Wilbur Cobb." +</P> + +<P> +"From out West," I puts in, givin' Pinckney the nudge. "He's yours." +</P> + +<P> +It ain't often I has a chance to unload anything like that on Pinckney, +so I rubs it in. The thoughts of him towin' around town a human +extension like this Wilbur strikes Swifty Joe so hard that he most has +a chokin' fit. +</P> + +<P> +But you never know what turn Pinckney's goin' to give to a jolly. He +don't even crack a smile, but reaches up and hands Mr. Cobb the cordial +shake, just as though he'd been a pattern sized gent dressed accordin' +to the new fall styles. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah!" says Pinckney. "I'm very glad to meet anyone from the West. +What State, Mr. Cobb?" +</P> + +<P> +And inside of two minutes he's gettin' all the details of this Zylphina +hunt, from the ground up, includin' an outline of Wilbur's past life. +</P> + +<P> +Seems that Wilbur'd got his first start in Maine; but 'way back before +he could remember much his folks had moved to Kansas on a homestead. +Then, when Wilbur tossled out, he takes up a quarter section near +Hoxie, and goes to corn farmin' for himself, raisin' a few hogs as a +side line. Barrin' bein' caught in a cyclone or two, and gettin' +elected junior kazook of the Sheridan County Grange, nothin' much +happened to Wilbur, until one day he took a car ride as far west as +Colby Junction. +</P> + +<P> +That's where he meets up with Zylphina. She was jugglin' stop over +rations at the railroad lunch counter. Men must have been mighty +scarce around the junction, or else she wants the most she can get for +the money; for, as she passes Wilbur a hunk of petrified pie and draws +him one muddy, with two lumps on the saucer, she throws in a smile that +makes him feel like he'd stepped on a live third rail. +</P> + +<P> +Accordin' to his tell, he must have hung around that counter all day, +eatin' through the pie list from top to bottom and back again, until +it's a wonder his system ever got over the shock. But Zylphina keeps +tollin' him on with googoo eyes and giggles, sayin' how it does her +good to see a man with a nice, hearty appetite, and before it come time +for him to take the night train back they'd got real well acquainted. +He finds out her first name, and how she's been a whole orphan since +she was goin' on ten. +</P> + +<P> +After that Wilbur makes the trip to Colby Junction reg'lar every +Sunday, and they'd got to the point of talkin' about settin' the day +when she was to become Mrs. Cobb, when Zylphina gets word that an aunt +of hers that kept a boardin' house in Fall River, Massachusetts, wants +her to come on East right away. Aunty has some kind of heart trouble +that may finish her any minute, and, as Zylphina was the nearest +relation she had, there was a show of her bein' heiress to the whole +joint. +</P> + +<P> +Course, Zylphina thinks she ought to tear herself loose from the pie +counter; but before she quits the junction her and Wilbur takes one +last buggy ride, with the reins wound around the whip socket most of +the way. She weeps on Wilbur's shirt front, and says no matter how far +off she is, or how long she has to wait for him to come, she'll always +be his'n on demand. And Wilbur says that just as soon as he can make +the corn and hog vineyard hump itself a little more, he'll come. +</P> + +<P> +So Zylphina packs a shoe box full of fried chicken, blows two months' +wages into a yard of yellow railroad ticket, and starts toward the +cotton mills. It's a couple of months before Wilbur gets any letter, +and then it turns out to be a hard luck tale, at that. Zylphina has +found out what a lime tastes like. She's discovered that the Fall +River aunt hasn't anything more the matter with her heart than the +average landlady, and that what she's fell heiress to is only a chance +to work eighteen hours a day for her board. So she's disinherited +herself and is about to make a bold jump for New York, which she liked +the looks of as she came through, and she'll write more later on. +</P> + +<P> +It was later—about six months. Zylphina says she's happy, and hopes +Wilbur is the same. She's got a real elegant job as cashier in a +high-toned, twenty-five cent, reg'lar-meal establishment, and all in +the world she has to do is to sit behind a wire screen and make change. +It's different from wearin' an apron, and the gents what takes their +food there steady treats her like a perfect lady. New York is a big +place; but she's getting so she knows her way around quite well now, +and it would seem funny to go back to a little one-horse burg like +Colby. +</P> + +<P> +And that's all. Nothin' about her bein' Wilbur's on demand, or +anything of that kind. Course, it's an antique old yarn; but it was +all fresh to Wilbur. Not bein' much of a letter writer, he keeps on +feedin' the hogs punctual, and hoein' the corn, and waitin' for more +news. But there's nothin' doin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Then," says he, "I got to thinkin' and thinkin', and this fall, being +as how I was coming as far east as Chicago on a shipper's pass, I +reckons I'd better keep right on here, hunt Zylphina up, and take her +back with me." +</P> + +<P> +The way he tells it was real earnest, and at some points them whey +coloured eyes of his moistens up good an' dewy; but he finishes strong +and smilin'. You wouldn't guess, though, that any corn fed romance +like that would stir up such a blood as Pinckney? A few months back he +wouldn't have listened farther'n the preamble; but now he couldn't have +been more interested if this was a case of Romeo Astor and Juliet +Dupeyster. +</P> + +<P> +"Shorty," says he, "can't we do something to help Mr. Cobb find this +young lady?" +</P> + +<P> +"Do you mean it," says I, "or are you battin' up a josh?" +</P> + +<P> +He means it, all right. He spiels off a lot of gush about the joy of +unitin' two lovin' hearts that has got strayed; so I asks Wilbur if he +can furnish any description of Zylphina. Sure, he can. He digs up a +leather wallet from his inside pocket and hands out a tintype of Miss +Beck, one of these portraits framed in pale pink paper, taken by a +wagon artist that had wandered out to the junction. +</P> + +<P> +Judgin' by the picture, Zylphina must have been a sure enough +prairie-rose. She's wearin' her hair loose over her shoulders, and a +genuine Shy Ann hat, one of those ten-inch brims with the front pinned +back. The pug nose and the big mouth wa'n't just after the Venus +model; but it's likely she looked good to Wilbur. I takes one squint +and hands it back. +</P> + +<P> +"Nix, never!" says I. "I've seen lots of fairies on 42d-st., but none +like that. Put it back over your heart, Wilbur, and try an ad. in the +lost column." +</P> + +<P> +But Pinckney ain't willin' to give up so easy. He says how Mr. Cobb +has come more'n a thousand miles on this tender mission, and it's up to +us to do our best towards helping him along. I couldn't see just where +we was let into this affair of Wilbur's; but as Pinckney's so set on +it, I begins battin' my head for a way of takin' up the trail. +</P> + +<P> +And it's wonderful what sleuth work you can do just by usin' the 'phone +liberal. First I calls up the agent of the buildin', and finds that +the meal fact'ry has moved over to Eighth-ave. Then I gets that number +and brings Zylphina's old boss to the wire. Sure, he remembers Miss +Beck. No, she ain't with him now. He thinks she took a course in +manicurin', and one of the girls says she heard of her doin' the hand +holdin' act in an apartment hotel on West 35th-st. After three tries +we has Zylphina herself on the 'phone. +</P> + +<P> +"Guess who's here," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"That you, Roland?" says she. +</P> + +<P> +"Aw, pickles!" says I. "Set the calendar back a year or so, and then +come again. Ever hear of Wilbur, from Hoxie, Kan.?" +</P> + +<P> +Whether it was a squeal or a snicker, I couldn't make out; but she was +on. As I couldn't drag Wilbur up to the receiver, I has to carry +through the talk myself, and I makes a date for him to meet her in +front of the hotel at six-thirty that evenin', when the day shift of +nail polishers goes off duty. +</P> + +<P> +"Does that suit, Wilbur?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +Does it? You never saw so much pure joy spread over a single +countenance as what he flashes up. He gives me a grip I can feel yet, +and the grin that opens his face was one of these reg'lar ear +connectors. Pinckney was tickled too, and it's all I can do to get him +off one side where I can whisper confidential. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe it ain't struck you yet," says I, "that Zylphina's likely to +have changed some in her ideas as to what a honey boy looks like. Now +Wilbur's all right in his way; but ain't he a little rugged to spring +on a lady manicure that hasn't seen him for some time?" +</P> + +<P> +And when Pinckney comes to take a close view, he agrees that Mr. Cobb +is a trifle fuzzy. "But we can spruce him up," says Pinckney. "There +are four hours to do it in." +</P> + +<P> +"Four weeks would be better," says I; "it's considerable of a contract." +</P> + +<P> +That don't bother Pinckney any. He's got nothing else on hand for the +afternoon, and he can't plan any better sport than improvin' Wilbur's +looks so Zylphina's first impression'll be a good one. +</P> + +<P> +He begins by making Wilbur peel the cinnamon brown costume, drapin' him +in a couple of bath robes, while Swifty takes the suit out to one of +these pants-pressed-while you wait places. When it comes back with +creases in the legs, he hustles Wilbur into a cab and starts for a +barber shop. +</P> + +<P> +Say, I don't suppose Cobb'll ever know it; but if he'd been huntin' for +expert help along that line, he couldn't have tumbled into better hands +than he did when Pinckney gets interested in his case. When they +floats in again, along about six o'clock, I hardly knows Wilbur for the +same party. He's wearin' a long black ulster that covers up most of +the plaid nightmare; he's shook the woolly lid for a fall block derby, +he's had his face scraped and powdered, and his neck ringlets trimmed +up; and he even sports a pair of yellow kids and a silver headed stick. +</P> + +<P> +"Gosh!" says I. "Looks like you'd run him through a finishing machine. +Why, he'll have Zylphina after him with a net." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," says Pinckney. "I fancy he'll do now." +</P> + +<P> +As for Wilbur, he only looks good natured and happy. Course, Pinckney +wants to go along with him, to see that it all turns out right; and he +counts me in too, so off we starts. I was a little curious to get a +glimpse of Zylphina myself, and watch how stunned she'd be. For we has +it all framed up how she'll act. Havin' seen the tintype, I can't get +it out of my head that she's still wearin' her hair loose and looking +like M'liss in the first act. +</P> + +<P> +"Hope she'll be on time," says I, as we turns the corner. +</P> + +<P> +There was more or less folks goin' and comin' from the ladies' +entrance; but no girl like the one we was lookin' for. So we fetches +up in a bunch opposite the door and prepares to wait. We hadn't stood +there a minute, before there comes a squeal from behind, and some one +says: +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Wilbur Cobb! Is that you?" +</P> + +<P> +And what do you guess shows up? There at the curb is a big, open +tourin' car,—one of the opulent, shiny kind,—with a slick looking +shuffer in front, and, standin' up in the tonneau, a tart little lady +wearin' Broadway clothes that was right up to the minute, hair done +into breakfast rolls behind, and a long pink veil streamin' down her +back. Only by the pug nose and the mouth could I guess that it might +be Zylphina. And it was. +</P> + +<P> +There wa'n't any gettin' away from the fact that she was a little +jarred at seein' Wilbur lookin' so cute; but that was nothin' to the +jolt she handed us. Mr. Cobb, he just opens his mouth and gazes at her +like she was some sort of an exhibit. And Pinckney, who'd been +expectin' something in a dollar-thirty-nine shirtwaist and a sagged +skirt, is down and out. It didn't take me more'n a minute to see that +if Zylphina has got to the stage where she wears pony jackets and rides +in expensive bubbles, our little pie counter romance is headed for the +ash can. +</P> + +<P> +"Stung in both eyes!" says I under my breath, and falls back. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well!" says Zylphina, holdin' out three fingers. "When did you +hit Broadway, Wilbur?" +</P> + +<P> +It was all up to Cobb then. He drifts up to the tonneau and gathers in +the fingers dazed like, as if he was walkin' in his sleep; but he gets +out somethin' about bein' mighty glad to see her again. +</P> + +<P> +Zylphina sizes him up kind of curious, and smiles. "You must let me +introduce you to my friend," says she. "Roland, this is Mr. Cobb, from +Kansas." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Shuffer grins too, as he swaps grips with Wilbur. It was a great +joke. +</P> + +<P> +"He's awfully nice to me, Roland is," says Zylphina, with a giggle. +"And ain't this a swell car, though? Roland takes me to my boardin' +house in it 'most every night. But how are the corn and hogs doin', +Wilbur?" +</P> + +<P> +Say, there was a topic Wilbur was up on. He throws her a grateful grin +and proceeds to unlimber his conversation works. He tells Zylphina how +many acres he put into corn last spring, how much it shucked to the +acre, and how many head of hogs he has just sent to the ham and lard +lab'ratory. That brand of talk sounds kind of foolish there under the +arc lights; but Zylphina pricks up her ears. +</P> + +<P> +"Ten carloads of hogs!" says she. "Is that a kid, or are you just +havin' a dream?" +</P> + +<P> +"I cal'late it'll be twenty next fall," says he, fishin' for somethin' +in his pocket. "Here's the packing house receipts for the ten, anyway." +</P> + +<P> +"Let's see," says she, and by the way she skins her eye over them +documents you could tell that Zylphina'd seen the like before. Also +she was somethin' of a ready reckoner. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Wilbur!" says she, makin' a flyin' leap and landin' with her arms +around his neck. "I'm yours, Wilbur, I'm yours!" +</P> + +<P> +And Wilbur, he gathers her in. +</P> + +<P> +"Roland," says I, steppin' up to the shuffer, "you can crank up. +Hoxie's won out in the tenth." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap19"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XIX +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +AT HOME WITH THE DILLONS +</H4> + +<P> +I was expectin' to put in a couple of days doin' the sad and lonely, +Sadie havin' made a date to run out to Rocky wold for the week end; but +Friday night when I'm let off at the seventh floor of the +Perzazzer—and say, no matter how many flights up home is, there's no +place like it—who should I see but Sadie, just takin' off her hat. +Across by the window is one of the chamber maids, leanin' up against +the casing and snifflin' into the expensive draperies. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well!" says I. "Is this a rehearsal for a Hank Ibsen sprinkler +scene, or is it a case of missin' jewels?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's nothing of the sort, Shorty," says Sadie, giving me the shut-off +signal. Then she turns to the girl with a "There, there, Nora! +Everything will be all right. And I will be around Sunday afternoon. +Run along now, and don't worry." With that she leads Nora out to the +door and sends her away with a shoulder pat. +</P> + +<P> +"Who's been getting friendly with the help now; eh, Sadie?" says I. +"And what's the woe about?" +</P> + +<P> +Course she begins at the wrong end, and throws in a lot of details that +only lumbers up the record; but after she's been talkin' for half an +hour—and Sadie can separate herself from a lot of language in that +time—I gets a good workin' outline of this domestic tragedy that has +left damp spots on our window curtains. +</P> + +<P> +It ain't near so harrowin', though, as you might suspect. Seems that +Nora has the weepin' habit. That's how Sadie come to remember havin' +seen her before. Also it counts for Nora's shiftin' so often. Folks +like Mrs. Purdy Pell and the Twombley-Cranes can't keep a girl around +that's liable to weep into the soup or on the card tray. If it wa'n't +for that, Nora'd been all right; for she's a neat lookin' girl, handy +and willin',—one of these slim, rosy cheeked, black haired, North of +Ireland kind, that can get big wages, when they have the sense, which +ain't often. +</P> + +<P> +Well, she'd changed around until she lands here in the fresh linen +department, workin' reg'lar twelve-hour shifts, one afternoon off a +week, and a four-by-six room up under the copper roof, with all the +chance in the world to weep and no one to pay any attention to her, +until Sadie catches her at it. Trust Sadie! +</P> + +<P> +When she finds Nora leakin' her troubles out over an armful of clean +towels, she drags her in here and asks for the awful facts. Then comes +the fam'ly history of the Dillons, beginnin' on the old rent at +Ballyshannon and endin' in a five-room flat on Double Fifth-ave. When +she comes to mentionin' Larry Dillon, I pricks up my ears. +</P> + +<P> +"What! Not the old flannel mouth that's chopped tickets at the 33d-st. +station ever since the L was built?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"He's been discharged," says Sadie. "Did you know him?" +</P> + +<P> +Did I know Larry? Could anyone live in this burg as long as I have, +without gettin' acquainted with that Old Country face, or learnin' by +heart his "Ha-a-a-ar-lem thr-r-rain! Ha-a-a-ar-lem!"? There's other +old timers that has the brogue, but never a one could touch Larry. A +purple faced, grumpy old pirate, with a disposition as cheerful as a +man waitin' his turn at the dentist's, and a heart as big as a ham, he +couldn't speak a civil word if he tried; but he was always ready to +hand over half his lunch to any whimperin' newsy that came along, and +he's lent out more nickels that he'll ever see again. +</P> + +<P> +But about the other Dillons, I got my first news from Sadie. There was +four of 'em, besides Nora. One was Tom, who had a fine steady job, +drivin' a coal cart for the Consolidated. A credit to the family, Tom +was; havin' a wife and six kids of his own, besides votin' the straight +Tammany ticket since he was nineteen. Next there was Maggie, whose man +was on the stage,—shiftin' scenery. Then there was Kate, the lady +sales person, who lived with the old folks. And last there was +Aloysius, the stray; and wherever he was, Heaven help him! for he was +no use whatever. +</P> + +<P> +"I take it that 'Loyshy's the brunette Southdown of the Dillon flock," +says I. "What particular brand of cussedness does he make a specialty +of?" +</P> + +<P> +Sadie says that Nora hadn't gone much into particulars, except that +when last heard of he'd joined the Salvationists, which had left old +Larry frothin' at the mouth. He'd threatened to break Aloysius into +two pieces on sight, and he'd put the ban on speakin' his name around +the house. +</P> + +<P> +"Followin' the tambourine!" says I. "That's a queer stunt for a +Dillon. The weeps was for him, then?" +</P> + +<P> +They wa'n't. 'Loyshy's disappearin' act had been done two or three +years back. The tears was all on account of the fortieth weddin' +anniversary of the Dillons, fallin' as it did just a week after Larry +had the spell of rheumatism which got him laid off for good. It's a +nice little way the Inter-Met. people has of rewardin' the old vets. +An inspector finds Larry, with his hand tied to the chopper handle, +takes a look at his cramped up fingers, puts down his number, and next +payday he gets the sack. +</P> + +<P> +"So you've found another candidate for your private pension list, have +you, Sadie?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +But that's another wrong guess. The Dillons ain't takin' charity, not +from anyone. It's the Dillon sisters to the rescue. They rustles +around until they find Larry a job as night watch, in where it's warm. +Then they all chips in for the new Tenth-ave. flat. Maggie brings her +man and the two kids, the lady Kate sends around her trunks with the +furniture, and Nora promises to give up half of her twenty to keep +things going. +</P> + +<P> +And then the Bradys, who lives opposite, has to spring their blow out. +They'd been married forty years too; but just because one of their boys +was in the Fire Department, and 'Lizzie Brady was workin' in a +Sixth-ave. hair dressin' parlour, they'd no call to flash such a +bluff,—frosted cake from the baker, with the date done in pink candy, +candles burnin' on the mantelpiece, a whole case of St. Louis on the +front fire escape, and the district boss drivin' around in one of +Connely's funeral hacks. Who was the Bradys, that they should have +weddin' celebrations when the Dillons had none? +</P> + +<P> +Kate, the lady sales person, handed out that conundrum. She supplies +the answer too. She allows that what a Brady can make a try at, a +Dillon can do like it ought to be done. So they've no sooner had the +gas and water turned on at the new flat than she draws up plans for a +weddin' anniversary that'll make the Brady performance look like a pan +of beans beside a standing rib roast. +</P> + +<P> +She knows what's what, the lady Kate does. She's been to the real +things, and they calls 'em "at homes" in Harlem. The Dillons will be +at home Sunday the nineteenth, from half after four until eight, and +the Bradys can wag their tongues off, for all she cares. It'll be in +honour of the fortieth wedding anniversary of Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence +Dillon, and all the family connections, and all friends of the same, is +to have a bid. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, that's the limit!" says I. "Did you tell the girl they'd better +be layin' in groceries, instead of givin' an imitation tea?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly not!" says Sadie. "Why shouldn't they enjoy themselves in +their own way?" +</P> + +<P> +"Eh?" says I. "Oh, I take it all back. But what was the eye swabbin' +for, then?" +</P> + +<P> +By degrees I gets the enacting clause. The arrangements for the party +was goin' on lovely,—Larry was havin' the buttons sewed onto the long +tailed coat he was married in, the scene shifter had got the loan of +some stage props to decorate the front room, there was to be ice cream +and fancy cakes and ladies' punch. Father Kelley had promised to drop +in, and all was runnin' smooth,—when Mother Dillon breaks loose. +</P> + +<P> +And what do you guess is the matter with her? She wants her 'Loyshy. +If there was to be any fam'ly convention and weddin' celebration, why +couldn't she have her little Aloysius to it? She didn't care a split +spud how he'd behaved, or if him and his father had had words; he was +her youngest b'y, and she thought more of him than all the rest put +together, and she wouldn't have a hand in any doin's that 'Loyshy was +barred from comin' to. +</P> + +<P> +As Nora put it, "When the old lady speaks her mind, you got to listen +or go mad from her." She don't talk of anything else, and when she +ain't talkin' she's cryin' her eyes out. Old Larry swore himself out +of breath, the lady Kate argued, and Maggie had done her best; but +there was nothin' doin'. They'd got to find Aloysius and ask him to +the party, or call it off. +</P> + +<P> +But findin' 'Loyshy wa'n't any cinch. He'd left the Army long ago. He +wa'n't in any of the fifteen-cent lodgin' houses. The police didn't +have any record of him. He didn't figure in the hospital lists. The +nearest anyone came to locatin' him was a handbook man the scene +shifter knew, who said he'd heard of 'Loyshy hangin' around the +Gravesend track summer before last; but there was no use lookin' for +him there at this time of year. It wa'n't until they'd promised to +advertise for Aloysius in the papers that Mother Dillon quit takin' on +and agreed to wear the green silk she'd had made for Nora's chistenin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, and what then?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Why," says Sadie, "Nora's afraid that if Aloysius doesn't turn up, her +mother will spoil the party with another crying spell; and she knows if +he does come, her father will throw him out." +</P> + +<P> +"She has a happy way of lookin' at things," says I. "Was it for this +you cut out going to Rockywold?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course," says Sadie. "I am to pour tea at the Dillons' on Sunday +afternoon. You are to come at five, and bring Pinckney." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, pickles, Sadie!" says I. "This is——" +</P> + +<P> +"Please, Shorty!" says she. "I've told Nora you would." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll put it up to Pinckney," says I, "and if he's chump enough to let +himself loose in Tenth-ave. society, just to help the Dillons put it +over the Bradys, I expect I'll be a mark too. But it's a dippy move." +</P> + +<P> +Course, I mistrusted how Pinckney would take it. He thinks he's got me +on the rollers, and proceeds to shove. He hasn't heard more'n half the +tale before he begins handin' me the josh about it's bein' my duty to +spread sunshine wherever I can. +</P> + +<P> +"It's calcium the Dillons want," says I. "But I hadn't got to tellin' +you about Aloysius." +</P> + +<P> +"What's that?" says he. "Aloysius Dillon, did you say?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's the one that's playin' the part of the missing prod.," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"What is he like?" says Pinckney, gettin' interested. +</P> + +<P> +"Accordin' to descriptions," says I, "he's a useless little runt, about +four feet nothin' high and as wide as a match, with the temper of a +striped hornet and the instincts of a yellow kyoodle. But he's his +mother's pet, just the same, and if he ain't found she threatens to +throw fits. Don't happen to know him, do you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why," says Pinckney, "I'm not sure but I do." +</P> + +<P> +It looks like a jolly; but then again, you never can tell about +Pinckney. He mixes around in so many sets that he's like to know 'most +anybody. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," says I, "if you run across Aloysius at the club, tell him +what's on for Sunday afternoon." +</P> + +<P> +"I will," says Pinckney, lettin' out a chuckle and climbin' into his +cab. +</P> + +<P> +I was hoping that maybe Sadie would renige before the time come; but +right after dinner Sunday she makes up in her second best afternoon +regalia, calls a hansom, and starts for Tenth-ave., leavin' +instructions how I was to show up in about an hour with Pinckney, and +not to forget about handin' out our cards just as if this was a swell +affair. I finds Pinckney got up in his frock coat and primrose pants, +and lookin' mighty pleased about something or other. +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" says I. "You seem to take this as a reg'lar cut-up act. I call +it blamed nonsense, encouragin' folks like the Dillons to——" +</P> + +<P> +But there ain't any use arguin' with Pinckney when he's feelin' that +way. He only grins and looks mysterious. We don't have to hunt for +the number of the Dillons' flat house, for there's a gang of kids on +the front steps and more out in the street gawpin' up at the lighted +windows. We makes a dive through them and tackles the four flights, +passin' inspection of the tenants on the way up, every door bein' open. +</P> + +<P> +"Who's comin' now?" sings out a women from the Second floor back. +</P> + +<P> +"Only a couple of Willies from the store," says a gent in his shirt +sleeves, givin' us the stare. +</P> + +<P> +From other remarks we heard passed, it was clear the Dillons had been +tootin' this party as something fine and classy, and that they wa'n't +making good. The signs of frost grows plainer as we gets nearer the +scene of the festivities. All the Dillon family was there, right +enough, from the youngest kid up. Old Larry has had his face scraped +till it shines like a copper stewpan, and him and Mother Dillon is +standin' under a green paper bell hung from a hook in the ceiling. I +could spot Tom, the coal cart driver, by the ring of dust under his +eyelashes; and there was no mistakin' lady Kate, the sales person, with +the double row of coronet hair rolls pinned to the top of her head. +Over in the corner, too, was Sadie, talkin' to Father Kelley. But +there wa'n't any great signs of joy. +</P> + +<P> +The whole party sizes up me and Pinckney as if they was disappointed. +I can't say what they was lookin' for from us; but whatever it was, we +didn't seem to fill the bill. And just when the gloom is settlin' down +thickest, Mother Dillon begins to sniffle. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, mother," says Nora, soothin' like, "remember there's company." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, bad scran to the lot of yez!" says the old lady. "Where's my +Aloysius? Where is he, will ye tell me that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Divvul take such a woman!" says old Larry. +</P> + +<P> +"Tut, tut!" says Father Kelley. +</P> + +<P> +"Will you look at the Bradys now!" whispers Maggie, hoarselike. +</P> + +<P> +It wa'n't easy guessin' which windows in the block was theirs, for +every ledge has a pillow on it, and a couple of pairs of elbows on +every pillow, but I took it that the Bradys was where they was grinnin' +widest. You could tell, though, that the merry laugh was bein' passed +up and down, and it was on the Dillons. +</P> + +<P> +And then, as I was tryin' to give Sadie the get-away sign, we hears a +deep honk outside, and I sees the folks across the way stretchin' their +necks out. In a minute there's a scamperin' in the halls like a +stampede at a synagogue, and we hears the "Ah-h-hs!" coming up from +below. We all makes a rush for the front and rubbers out to see what's +happenin'. By climbin' on a chair and peekin' over the top of the lady +Kate's hair puffs, I catches a glimpse of a big yellow and black bodied +car, with a footman in a bearskin coat holdin' open the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh-o-o-oh! look what's here?" squeals eight little Dillons in chorus. +</P> + +<P> +You couldn't blame 'em, either, for the hat that was bein' squeezed out +through the door of the car was one of these Broadway thrillers, four +feet across, and covered with as many green ostrich feathers as you +could carry in a clothes basket. What was under the feather lid we +couldn't see. Followin' it out of the machine comes somethin' cute in +a butter colored overcoat and a brown derby. In a minute more we gets +the report that the procession is headed up the stairs, and by the time +we've grouped ourselves around the room with our mouths open, in they +floats. +</P> + +<P> +In the lead, wearin' the oleo coat with yellow silk facin's, was a +squizzled up little squirt with rat eyes and a mean little face about +as thick as a slice of toast, and the same colour. His clothes, +though, is a pome in browns and yellows, from the champagne tinted No. +3 shoes to the tobacco coloured No. 5 hat, leavin' out the necktie, +which was a shade somewhere between a blue store front and a bottle of +purple ink. +</P> + +<P> +Even if I hadn't seen the face, I could have guessed who it was, just +by the get-up. Course, there's been a good many noisy dressers +floatin' around the grill room district this winter, but there always +has to be one real scream in every crowd; and this was it. +</P> + +<P> +"If it ain't Shrimp!" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, Shorty!" says he, in that little squeak of his. +</P> + +<P> +And at that some one swoops past me. There's a flapping of green silk +skirt, and Mother Dillon has given him the high tackle. +</P> + +<P> +"Aloysius! My little 'Loyshy!" she squeals. +</P> + +<P> +And say, you could have pushed me over with one finger. Here I'd been +hearin' for the last two seasons about this jock that had come up from +stable helper in a night, and how he'd been winning on nine out of +every ten mounts, and how all the big racing men was overbiddin' each +other to get him signed for their stables. Some of Pinckney's sportin' +friends had towed Shrimp into the Studio once or twice, and besides +that I'd read in the papers all about his giddy wardrobe, and his big +Swede valet, and the English chorus girl that had married him. But in +all this talk of Sadie's about the Dillon fam'ly, I'd never so much as +guessed that Aloysius, the stray, was one and the same as Shrimp Dillon. +</P> + +<P> +Here he was, though, in the Dillon flat, with Mother Dillon almost +knockin' his breath out pattin' him on the back, and all the little +Dillons jumpin' around and yellin', "Uncle 'Loyshy, Uncle 'Loyshy!" and +Kate and Maggie and Nora waitin' their turns; and the rest of us, +includin' old Larry and me and Sadie, lookin' foolish. The only one +that acts like he wa'n't surprised is Pinckney. +</P> + +<P> +Well, as soon as Shrimp can wiggle himself clear, and shake the little +Dillons off his legs, he hauls Mrs. Shrimp to the front and does the +honours. And say, they make a pair that would draw a crowd anywhere! +You know the style of chorus ladies the Lieblers bring over,—the +lengthy, high chested, golden haired kind? Well, she's one of the +dizziest that ever stood up to make a background for the pony ballet. +And she has on a costume—well, it goes with the hat, which it puttin' +it strong. +</P> + +<P> +If the sight of her and the circus coloured car wa'n't enough to stun +the neighbours and send the Bradys under the bed, they had only to wait +till the Swede valet and the footman began luggin' up the sheaf of +two-dollar roses and the basket of champagne. +</P> + +<P> +I was watchin' old Larry to see how he was takin' it. First he looks +Shrimp up and down, from the brown hat to the yellow shoes, and then he +gazes at Mrs. Shrimp. Then his stiff lower jaw begins saggin' down, +and his knobby old fingers unloosens from the grip they'd got into at +first sight of 'Loyshy. It's plain that he was some in doubt about +that chuckin' out programme he'd had all framed up. What Larry had +been expectin' should the boy turn up at all, was something that looked +like it had been picked out of the bread line. And here was a specimen +of free spender that had "Keep the change!" pasted all over him. Then, +before he has it half figured out, they're lined up in front of each +other. But old Larry ain't one to do the sidestep. +</P> + +<P> +"Aloysius," says he, scowlin' down at him, "where do ye be afther +gettin' ut?" +</P> + +<P> +"Out of the ponies, old stuff. Where else?" says Shrimp. +</P> + +<P> +"Bettin'?" says Larry. +</P> + +<P> +"Bettin' nothin'!" says Shrimp. "Mud ridin'." +</P> + +<P> +"Allow me," says Pinckney, pushin' in, "to introduce to you all, ladies +and gentlemen, Mr. Shrimp Dillon, one of the best paid jockeys in +America." +</P> + +<P> +"And what might they be payin' the likes of him for bein' a jockey?" +says old Larry. +</P> + +<P> +"Why," says Pinckney, "it was something like twenty thousand this +season, wasn't it, Shrimp?" +</P> + +<P> +"Countin' bonuses and all," says Shrimp, "it was nearer thirty-two." +</P> + +<P> +"Thirty-two thou——" But Larry's mouth is open so wide he can't get +the rest out. He just catches his breath, and then, "'Loyshy, me lad, +give us your hand on it." +</P> + +<P> +"Ahem!" says Father Kelley, pickin' up his hat, "this seems to be a +case where the prodigal has returned—and brought his veal with him." +</P> + +<P> +"That's a thrue word," says Larry. "'Tis a proud day for the Dillons." +</P> + +<P> +Did they put it over the Bradys? Well, say! All the Bradys has to do +now, to remember who the Dillons are, is to look across the way and see +the two geranium plants growin' out of solid silver pots. Course, they +wa'n't meant for flower pots. They're champagne coolers; but Mother +Dillon don't know the difference, so what's the odds? Anyway, they're +what 'Loyshy brought for presents, and I'll bet they're the only pair +west of Sixth-avenue. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap20"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XX +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE CASE OF RUSTY QUINN +</H4> + +<P> +Say, I ain't one of the kind to go around makin' a noise like a pickle, +just because I don't happen to have the same talents that's been handed +out to others. About all I got to show is a couple of punch +distributors that's more or less educated, and a block that's set on +some solid. Not much to get chesty over; but the combination has kept +me from askin' for benefit performances, and as a rule I'm satisfied. +</P> + +<P> +There's times, though, when I wish—say, don't go givin' me the hee-haw +on this—when I wish I could sing. Ah, I don't mean bein' no grand +opera tenor, with a throat that has to be kept in cotton battin' and a +reputation that needs chloride of lime. What would suit me would be +just a plain, every day la-la-la outfit of pipes, that I could turn +loose on coon songs when I was alone, or out with a bunch in the +moonlight. I'd like to be able to come in on a chorus now and then, +without havin' the rest of the crowd turn on me and call for the hook. +</P> + +<P> +What music I've got is the ingrowin' kind. When anybody starts up a +real lively tune I can feel it throbbin' and bumpin' away in my head, +like a blowfly in a milk bottle; but if ever I try uncorkin' one of my +warbles, the people on the next block call in the children, and the +truck drivers begin huntin' for the dry axle. +</P> + +<P> +Now look at what bein' musical did for Rusty Quinn. Who's Rusty? +Well, he ain't much of anybody. I used to wonder, when I'd see him +kickin' around under foot in different places, how it was he had the +nerve to go on livin'. Useless! He appeared about as much good to the +world as a pair of boxin' gloves would be to the armless wonder. +</P> + +<P> +First I saw of Rusty was five or six years back, when he was hangin' +around my trainin' camp. He was a long, slab sided, loose jointed, +freckled up kid then, always wearin' a silly, good natured grin on his +homely face. About all the good you could say of Rusty was that he +could play the mouth organ, and be good natured, no matter how hard he +was up against it. +</P> + +<P> +If there was anything else he could do well, no one ever found it out, +though he tried plenty of things. And he always had some great scheme +rattlin' round in his nut, something that was goin' to win him the big +stake. But it was a new scheme every other day, and, outside of +grinnin' and playin' the mouth organ, all I ever noticed specially +brilliant about him was the way he used cigarettes as a substitute for +food. Long's he had a bag of fact'ry sweepin's and a book of rice +papers he didn't mind how many meals he missed, and them long fingers +of his was so well trained they could roll dope sticks while he slept. +</P> + +<P> +Well, it had been a year or so since I'd run across him last, and if +I'd thought about him at all, which I didn't, it would have been to +guess what fin'lly finished him; when this affair out on Long Island +was pulled off. The swells that owns country places along the south +shore has a horse show about this time every year. As a rule they gets +along without me bein' there to superintend; but last week I happens to +be down that way, payin' a little call on Mr. Jarvis, an old reg'lar of +mine, and in the afternoon he wants to know if I don't want to climb up +on the coach with the rest of the gang and drive over to see the sport. +</P> + +<P> +Now I ain't so much stuck on this four-in-hand business. It's jolty +kind of ridin', anyway, and if the thing upsets you've got a long ways +to fall; but I always likes takin' a look at a lot of good horses, so I +plants myself up behind, alongside the gent that does the tara-tara-ta +act on the copper funnel, and off we goes. +</P> + +<P> +It ain't any of these common fair grounds horse shows, such as anyone +can buy a badge to. This is held on the private trottin' track at +Windymere—you know, that big estate that's been leased by the +Twombley-Cranes since they started makin' their splurge. +</P> + +<P> +And say, they know how to do things in shape, them folks. There's a +big green and white striped tent set up for the judges at the home +plate, and banked around that on either side was the traps and carts +and bubbles of some of the crispest cracker jacks on Mrs. Astor's list. +Course, there was a lot of people I knew; so as soon as our coach is +backed into position I shins down from the perch and starts in to do +the glad hand walk around. +</P> + +<P> +That's what fetches me onto one of the side paths leadin' up towards +the big house. I was takin' a short cut across the grass, when I sees +a little procession comin' down through the shrubbery. First off it +looks like some one was bein' helped into their coat; but then I +notices that the husky chap behind was actin' more vigorous than +polite. He has the other guy by the collar, and was givin' him the +knee good and plenty, first shovin' him on a step or two, and then +jerkin' him back solid. Loomin' up in the rear was a gent I spots +right off for Mr. Twombley-Crane himself, and by the way he follows I +takes it he's bossin' the job. +</P> + +<P> +"Gee!" says I to myself, "here's some one gettin' the rough chuck-out +for fair." +</P> + +<P> +And then I has a glimpse of a freckly face and the silly grin. The +party gettin' the run was Rusty Quinn. He's lookin' just as seedy as +ever, being costumed in a faded blue jersey, an old pair of yellow +ridin' pants, and leggin's that don't match. The bouncer is a great, +ham fisted, ruddy necked Britisher, a man twice the weight of Rusty, +with a face shaped like a punkin. As he sees me slow up he snorts out +somethin' ugly and gives Quinn an extra hard bang in the back with his +knee. And that starts my temperature to risin' right off. +</P> + +<P> +"Why don't you hit him with a maul, you bloomin' aitch eater," says I. +"Hey, Rusty! what you been up to now?" +</P> + +<P> +"Your friend's been happre'ended a-sneak thievin', that's w'at!" growls +out the beef chewer. +</P> + +<P> +"G'wan," says I. "I wouldn't believe the likes of you under oath. +Rusty, how about it?" +</P> + +<P> +Quinn, he gives me one of them batty grins of his and spreads out his +hand. "Honest, Shorty," says he, "I was only after a handful of +Turkish cigarettes from the smokin' room. I wouldn't touched another +thing; cross m' heart, I wouldn't!" +</P> + +<P> +"'Ear 'im!" says the Britisher. "And 'im caught prowlin' through the +'ouse!" With that he gives Rusty a shake that must have loosened his +back teeth, and prods him on once more. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, say," says I, "you ain't got no call to break his back even if he +was prowlin'. Cut it out, you big mucker, or——" +</P> + +<P> +Say, I shouldn't have done it, seein' where I was; but the ugly look on +his mug as he lifts his knee again seems to pull the trigger of my +right arm, and I swings in one on that punkin head like I was choppin' +wood. He drops Rusty and comes at me with a rush, windmill fashion, +and I'm so happy for the next two minutes, givin' him what he needs, +that I've mussed up his countenance a lot before I sends in the one +that finds the soft spot on his jaw and lands him on the grass. +</P> + +<P> +"Here, here!" shouts Mr. Twombley-Crane, comin' up just as his man does +the back shoulder fall. "Why, McCabe, what does this mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothin' much," says I, "except that I ain't in love with your +particular way of speedin' the partin' guest." +</P> + +<P> +"Guest!" says he, flushin' up. "The fellow was caught prowling. +Besides, by what right do you question my method of getting rid of a +sneak thief?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I don't stop for rights in a case of this kind," says I. "I just +naturally butts in. I happens to know that Rusty here, ain't any more +of a thief than I am. If you've got a charge to make, though, I'll see +that he's in court when——" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't care to bother with the police," says he. "I merely want the +fellow kicked off the place." +</P> + +<P> +"Sorry to interfere with your plans," says I; "but he's been kicked +enough. I'll lead him off, though, and guarantee he don't come back, +if that'll do?" +</P> + +<P> +We both simmered down after he agrees to that proposition. The beef +eater picks himself up and limps back to the house, while I escorts +Rusty as far as the gates, givin' him some good advice on the way down. +Seems he'd been workin' as stable helper at Windymere for a couple of +weeks, his latest dream bein' that he was cut out for a jockey; but +he'd run out of dope sticks and, knowin' they was scattered around +reckless in the house, he'd just walked in lookin' for some. +</P> + +<P> +"Which shows you've lost what little sense you ever had," says I. "Now +here's two whole dollars, Rusty. Go off somewheres and smoke yourself +to death. Nobody'll miss you." +</P> + +<P> +Rusty, he just grins and moseys down the road, while I goes back to see +the show, feelin' about as much to home, after that run in, as a stray +pup in church. +</P> + +<P> +It was about an hour later, and they'd got through the program as far +as the youngsters' pony cart class, to be followed by an exhibit of +fancy farm teams. Well, the kids was gettin' ready to drive into the +ring. There was a bunch of 'em, mostly young girls all togged out in +pink and white, drivin' dinky Shetlands in wicker carts covered with +daisies and ribbons. In the lead was little Miss Gladys, that the +Twombley-Cranes think more of than they do their whole bank account. +The rigs was crowded into the main driveway, ready to turn into the +track as soon as the way was cleared, and it sure was a sight worth +seein'. +</P> + +<P> +I was standin' up on the coach, takin' it in, when all of a sudden +there comes a rumblin', thunderin' sound from out near the gates, and +folks begins askin' each other what's happened. They didn't have to +wait long for the answer; for before anyone can open a mouth, around +the curve comes a cloud of dust, and out dashes a pair of big greys +with one of them heavy blue and yellow farm waggons rattlin' behind. +It was easy to guess what's up then. One of the farm teams has been +scared. +</P> + +<P> +Next thing that was clear was that there wa'n't any driver on the +waggon, and that them crazy horses was headed straight for that snarl +of pony carts. There wa'n't any yellin' done. I guess 'most every +body's throat was too choked up. I know mine was. I only hears one +sound above the bang and rattle of them hoofs and wheels. That was a +kind of a groan, and I looks down to see Mr. Twombley-Crane standin' up +in the seat of a tourin' car, his face the colour of a wax candle, and +such a look in his eyes as I ain't anxious to see on any man again. +</P> + +<P> +Next minute he'd jumped. But it wa'n't any use. He was too far away, +and there was too big a crowd to get through. Even if he could have +got there soon enough, he couldn't have stopped them crazy brutes any +more'n he could have blocked a cannon ball. +</P> + +<P> +I feels sick and faint in the pit of my stomach, and the one thing I +wants to do most just then is to shut my eyes. But I couldn't. I +couldn't look anywhere but at that pair of tearin' horses and them +broad iron wheels. And that's why I has a good view of something that +jumps out of the bushes, lands in a heap in the waggon, and then +scrambles toward the front seat as quick as a cat. I see the red hair +and the blue jersey, and that's enough. I knows it's that useless +Rusty Quinn playin' the fool. +</P> + +<P> +Now, if he'd had a pair of arms like Jeffries, maybe there'd been some +hope of his pullin' down them horses inside the couple of hundred feet +there was between their front toe calks and where little Miss Gladys +was sittin' rooted to the cushions of her pony cart. But Rusty's +muscle development is about equal to that of a fourteen-year boy, and +it looks like he's goin' to do more harm than good when he grabs the +reins from the whip socket. But he stands up, plants his feet wide, +and settles back for the pull. +</P> + +<P> +Almost before anyone sees his game, he's done the trick. There's a +smash that sounds like a buildin' fallin' down, a crackin' and +splinterin' of oak wood and iron, a rattlin' of trace chains, a couple +of soggy thumps,—and when the dust settles down we sees a grey horse +rollin' feet up on either side of a big maple, and at the foot of the +tree all that's left of that yellow and blue waggon. Rusty had put +what strength he had into one rein at just the right time, and the pole +had struck the trunk square in the middle. +</P> + +<P> +For a minute or so there was a grand hurrah, with mothers and fathers +rushin' to grab their youngsters out of the carts and hug 'em; which +you couldn't blame 'em for doin', either. As for me, I drops off the +back of the coach and makes a bee line for that wreck, so I'm among the +first dozen to get there. I'm in time to shove my shoulder under the +capsized waggon body and hold it up. +</P> + +<P> +Well, there ain't any use goin' into details. What we took from under +there didn't look much like a human bein', for it was as limp and +shapeless as a bag of old rags. But the light haired young feller that +said he was a medical student guessed there might be some life left. +He wa'n't sure. He held his ear down, and after he'd listened for a +minute he said maybe something could be done. So we laid it on one of +the side boards and lugged it up to the house, while some one jumps +into a sixty-horse power car and starts for a sure enough doctor. +</P> + +<P> +It was durin' the next ten minutes, when the young student was cuttin' +off the blue jersey and the ridin' pants, and pokin' and feelin' +around, that Mr. Twombley-Crane gets the facts of the story. He didn't +have much to say; but, knowin' what I did, and seein' how he looked, I +could easy frame up what was on his mind. He gives orders that +whatever was wanted should be handed out, and he was standin' by +holdin' the brandy flask himself when them washed out blue eyes of +Rusty's flickers open for the first time. +</P> + +<P> +"I—I forgot my—mouth organ," says Rusty. "I wouldn't of come +back—but for that." +</P> + +<P> +It wa'n't much more'n a whisper, and it was a shaky one at that. So +was Mr. Twombley-Crane's voice kind of shaky when he tells him he +thanks the Lord he did come back. And then Rusty goes off in another +faint. +</P> + +<P> +Next a real doc. shows up, and he chases us all out while him and the +student has a confab. In five minutes or so we gets the verdict. The +doc. says Rusty is damaged pretty bad. Things have happened to his +ribs and spine which ought to have ended him on the spot. As it is, he +may hold out another hour, though in the shape he's in he don't see how +he can. But if he could hold out that long the doc. knows of an A-1 +sawbones who could mend him up if anyone could. +</P> + +<P> +"Then telephone for him at once, and do your best meanwhile," says Mr. +Twombley-Crane. +</P> + +<P> +By that time everyone on the place knows about Rusty and his stunt. +The front rooms was full of people standin' around whisperin' soft to +each other and lookin' solemn,—swell, high toned folks, that half an +hour before hardly knew such specimens as Rusty existed. But when the +word is passed around that probably he's all in, they takes it just as +hard as if he was one of their own kind. When it comes to takin' the +long jump, we're all pretty much on the same grade, ain't we? +</P> + +<P> +I begun to see where I hadn't any business sizin' up Rusty like I had, +and was workin' up a heavy feelin' in my chest, when the doc. comes out +and asks if there's such a party as Shorty McCabe present. I knew what +was comin'. Rusty has got his eyes open again and is callin' for me. +</P> + +<P> +I finds him half propped up with pillows on a shiny mahogany table, his +face all screwed up from the hurt inside, and the freckles showin' up +on his dead white skin like peach stains on a table cloth. +</P> + +<P> +"They say I'm all to the bad, Shorty," says he, tryin' to spring that +grin of his. +</P> + +<P> +"Aw, cut it out!" says I. "You tell 'em they got another guess. +You're too tough and rugged to go under so easy." +</P> + +<P> +"Think so?" says he, real eager, his eyes lightin' up. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure thing!" says I. Say, I put all the ginger and cheerfulness I +could fake up into that lie. And it seems to do him a heap of good. +When I asks him if there's anything he wants, he makes another crack at +his grin, and says: +</P> + +<P> +"A paper pipe would taste good about now." +</P> + +<P> +"Let him have it," says the doc. So the student digs out his cigarette +case, and we helps Rusty light up. +</P> + +<P> +"Ain't there somethin' more, Rusty?" says I. "You know the house is +yours." +</P> + +<P> +"Well," says he, after a few puffs, "if this is to be a long wait, a +little music would help. There's a piano over in the corner." +</P> + +<P> +I looks at the doc. and shakes my head. He shakes back. +</P> + +<P> +"I used to play a few hymns," says the student. +</P> + +<P> +"Forget 'em, then," says Rusty. "A hymn would finish me, sure. What +I'd like is somethin' lively." +</P> + +<P> +"Doc.," says I, "would it hurt?" +</P> + +<P> +"Couldn't," says he. Also he whispers that he'd use chloroform, only +Rusty's heart's too bad, and if he wants ragtime to deal it out. +</P> + +<P> +"Wish I could," says I; "but maybe I can find some one who can." +</P> + +<P> +With that I slips out and hunts up Mrs. Twombley-Crane, explainin' the +case to her. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, certainly," says she. "Where is Effie? I'll send her in right +away." +</P> + +<P> +She's a real damson plum, Effie is; one of the cute, fluffy haired +kind, about nineteen. She comes in lookin' scared and sober; but when +she's had a look at Rusty, and he's tried his grin on her, and said how +he'd like to hear somebody tear off somethin' that would remind him of +Broadway, she braces right up. +</P> + +<P> +"I know," says she. +</P> + +<P> +And say, she did know! She has us whirl the baby grand around so's she +can glance over the top at Rusty, tosses her lace handkerchief into one +corner of the keyboard, pushes back her sleeves until the elbow dimples +show, and the next thing we know she's teasin' the tumpety-tum out of +the ivories like a professor. +</P> + +<P> +She opens up with a piece you hear all the kids whistlin',—something +with a swing and a rattle to it, I don't know what. But it brings +Rusty up on his elbow and sets him to keepin' time with the cigarette. +Then she slides off into "Poor John!" and Rusty calls out for her to +sing it, if she can. Can she? Why, she's got one of them sterling +silver voices, that makes Vesta Victoria's warblin' sound like blowin' +a fish horn, and before she's half through the first verse Rusty has +joined in. +</P> + +<P> +"Come on!" says he, as they strikes the chorus. "Everybody!" +</P> + +<P> +Say, the doc. was right there with the goods. He roars her out like a +good one; and the student chap wa'n't far behind, either. You know how +it goes— +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +John, he took me round to see his moth-er, his moth-er, his moth-er!<BR> +And while he introduced us to each oth-er—<BR> +</P> + +<P> +Eh? Well, maybe that ain't just the way it goes; but I can think the +tune right. That was what I was up against then. I knew I couldn't +make my voice behave; so all I does is go through the motions with my +mouth and tap the time out with my foot. But I sure did ache to jump +in and help Rusty out. +</P> + +<P> +It was a great concert. She gives us all them classic things, like +"The Bird on Nellie's Hat," "Waiting at the Church," "No Wedding Bells +for Me," and so on; her fingers just dancin', and her head noddin' to +Rusty, and her eyes kind of encouragin' him to keep his grip. +</P> + +<P> +Twice, though, he has to quit, as the pain twists him; and the last +time, when he flops back on the pillows, we thought he'd passed in for +good. But in a minute or so he's up again' callin' for more. Say, +maybe you think Miss Effie didn't have some grit of her own, to sit +there bangin' out songs like that, expectin' every minute to see him +keel over. But she stays with it, and we was right in the middle of +that chorus that goes— +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +In old New York, in old New York,<BR> +The peach crop's always fine—<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +when the foldin' doors was slid back, and in comes the big surgeon gent +we'd been waitin' for. You should have seen the look on him too, as he +sizes up them three singin', and Rusty there on the table, a cigarette +twisted up in his fingers, fightin' down a spasm. +</P> + +<P> +"What blasted idiocy is this?" he growled. +</P> + +<P> +"New kind of pain killer, doc.," says I. "Tell you all about it later. +What you want to do now is get busy." +</P> + +<P> +Well, that's the whole of it. He knew his book, that bone repairer +did. He worked four hours steady, puttin' back into place the parts of +Rusty that had got skewgeed; but when he rolls down his sleeves and +quits he leaves a man that's almost as good as ever, barrin' a few +months to let the pieces grow together. +</P> + +<P> +I was out to see Rusty yesterday, and he's doin' fine. He's plannin', +when he gets around again, to take the purse that was made up for him +and invest it in airship stock. +</P> + +<P> +"And if ever I make a million dollars, Shorty," says he, "I'm goin' to +hand over half of it to that gent that sewed me up." +</P> + +<P> +"Good!" says I. "And if I was you I'd chuck the other half at the song +writers." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<HR> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap21"></A> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +ZANE GREY'S NOVELS +</H2> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. +</H4> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +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> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE RAINBOW TRAIL +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +The story of a young clergyman who becomes a wanderer in the great +uplands—until at last love and faith awake. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +DESERT GOLD +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +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. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +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> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +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 canyons and giant +pines." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +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. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE SHORT STOP +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +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> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +BETTY ZANE +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +This story tells of the bravery and heroism of Betty, the beautiful +young sister of old Colonel Zane, one of the bravest pioneers. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE LONE STAR RANGER +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +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> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE BORDER LEGION +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +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 Kelts, 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. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE LAST OF THE GREAT SCOUTS +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +By Helen Cody Wetmore and Zane Grey +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +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. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK +</P> + +<BR> + +<HR> + +<BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +JOHN FOX, JR'S. +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +STORIES OF THE KENTUCKY MOUNTAINS +</H3> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE TRAIL OF THE LONESOME PINE. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +The "lonesome pine" from which the story takes its name was a tall tree +that stood in solitary splendor on a mountain top. The fame of the +pine lured a young engineer through Kentucky to catch the trail, and +when he finally climbed to its shelter he found not only the pine but +the foot-prints of a girl. And the girl proved to be lovely, piquant, +and the trail of these girlish foot-prints led the young engineer a +madder chase than "the trail of the lonesome pine." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE LITTLE SHEPHERD OF KINGDOM COME +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +This is a story of Kentucky, in a settlement known as "Kingdom Come." +It is a life rude, semi-barbarous; but natural and honest, from which +often springs the flower of civilization. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"Chad," the "little shepherd" did not know who he was nor whence he +came—he had just wandered from door to door since early childhood, +seeking shelter with kindly mountaineers who gladly fathered and +mothered this waif about whom there was such a mystery—a charming +waif, by the way, who could play the banjo better that anyone else in +the mountains. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +A KNIGHT OF THE CUMBERLAND. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +The scenes are laid along the waters of the Cumberland, the lair of +moonshiner and feudsman. The knight is a moonshiner's son, and the +heroine a beautiful girl perversely christened "The Blight." Two +impetuous young Southerners fall under the spell of "The Blight's" +charms and she learns what a large part jealousy and pistols have in +the love making of the mountaineers. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Included in this volume is "Hell fer-Sartain" and other stories, some +of Mr. Fox's most entertaining Cumberland valley narratives. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +<I>Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction</I> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK +</P> + +<BR> + +<HR> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +GROSSET & DUNLAP'S +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +DRAMATIZED NOVELS +</H2> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE KIND THAT ARE MAKING THEATRICAL HISTORY +</H4> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +WITHIN THE LAW. By Bayard Veiller & Marvin Dana. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Illustrated by Wm. Charles Cooke. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +This is a novelization of the immensely successful play which ran for +two years in New York and Chicago. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +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. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +WHAT HAPPENED TO MARY. By Robert Carlton Brown. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Illustrated with scenes from the play. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +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. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +The story of Mary is being told in moving pictures and played in +theatres all over the world. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE RETURN OF PETER GRIMM. By David Belasco. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Illustrated by John Rae. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +This is a novelization of the popular play in which David Warfield, as +Old Peter Grimm, scored such a remarkable success. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +The story is spectacular and extremely pathetic but withal, powerful, +both as a book and as a play. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE GARDEN OF ALLAH. By Robert Hichens. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +This novel is an intense, glowing epic of the great desert, sunlit, +barbaric, with its marvelous atmosphere of vastness and loneliness. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +It is a book of rapturous beauty, vivid in word painting. The play has +been staged with magnificent cast and gorgeous properties. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +BEN HUR. A Tale of the Christ. By General Lew Wallace. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +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> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +BOUGHT AND PAID FOR. By George Broadhurst and Arthur Hornblow. +Illustrated with scenes from the play. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +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 CLASS="noindent"> +The interest of the story turns on the day-by-day developments which +show the young wife the price she has paid. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +<I>Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction</I> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK +</P> + +<BR> + +<HR> + +<BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +MYRTLE REED'S NOVELS +</H2> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +LAVENDER AND OLD LACE. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +A charming story of a quaint corner of New England, where by-gone +romance finds a modern parallel. The story centers round the coming of +love to the young people on the staff of a newspaper—and it is one of +the prettiest, sweetest and quaintest of old-fashioned love stories. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +MASTER OF THE VINEYARD. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +A pathetic love story of a young girl, Rosemary. The teacher of the +country school, who is also master of the vineyard, comes to know her +through her desire for books. She is happy in his love till another +woman comes into his life. But happiness and emancipation from her +many trials come to Rosemary at last. The book has a touch of humor +and pathos that will appeal to every reader. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +OLD ROSE AND SILVER. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +A love story,—sentimental and humorous,—with the plot subordinate to +the character delineation of its quaint people and to the exquisite +descriptions of picturesque spots and of lovely, old, rare treasures. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +A WEAVER OF DREAMS +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +This story tells of the love-affairs of three young people, with an +old-fashioned romance in the background. A tiny dog plays an important +role in serving as a foil for the heroine's talking ingeniousness. +There is poetry, as well as tenderness and charm, in this tale of a +weaver of dreams. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +A SPINNER IN THE SUN. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +An old-fashioned love story, of a veiled lady who lives in solitude and +whose features her neighbors have never seen. There is a mystery at +the heart of the book that throws over it the glamour of romance. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE MASTER'S VIOLIN. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +A love story in a musical atmosphere. A picturesque, old German +virtuoso consents to take for his pupil a handsome youth who proves to +have an aptitude for technique, but not the soul of an artist. The +youth cannot express the love, the passion and the tragedies of life as +can the master. But a girl comes into his life, and through his +passionate love for her, he learns the lessons that life has to +give—and his soul awakes. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK +</P> + +<BR> + +<HR> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE NOVELS OF +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON +</H2> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +GRAUSTARK. Illustrated with Scenes from the Play. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +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> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +BEVERLY OF GRAUSTARK. Illustrations by Harrison Fisher. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +This is a sequel to "Graustark." A bewitching American girl visits the +little principality and there has a romantic love affair. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +PRINCE OF GRAUSTARK. Illustrations by A. I. Keller. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +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. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +BREWSTER'S MILLIONS. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Illustrated with Scenes from the Photo-Play. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +A young man, required to spend one million dollars in one year; in +order to inherit seven, accomplishes the task in this lively story. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +COWARDICE COURT. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Illus. by Harrison Fisher and decorations by Theodore Hapgood. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +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> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND. Illustrated by A. I. Keller. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +A story of modern New York, built around an ancient enmity, born of the +scorn of the aristocrat for one of inferior birth. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +WHAT'S-HIS-NAME. Illustrations by Harrison Fisher. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"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. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +<I>Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction</I> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK +</P> + +<BR> + +<HR> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE NOVELS OF +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +STEWART EDWARD WHITE +</H3> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE BLAZED TRAIL. Illustrated by Thomas Fogarty. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +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> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE CALL OF THE NORTH. Ills. with Scenes from the Play. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +The story centers about a Hudson Bay trading post, known as "The +Conjuror's House" (the original title of the book.) +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE RIVERMAN. Ills. by N. C. Wyeth and C. F. Underwood. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +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. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +RULES OF THE GAME. Illustrated by Lejaren A. Hiller. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +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. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +GOLD. Illustrated by Thomas Fogarty. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +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. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE FOREST. Illustrated by Thomas Fogarty. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +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> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE MOUNTAINS. Illustrated by Fernand Lungren. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +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. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE CABIN. Illustrated with photographs by the author. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +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." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE GRAY DAWN. Illustrated by Thomas Fogarty. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +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. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +<I>Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction</I> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK +</P> + +<BR> + +<HR> + +<BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +B. M. Bower's Novels +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Thrilling Western Romances +</H3> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Large 12 mos. Handsomely bound in cloth. Illustrated +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +CHIP, OF THE FLYING U +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +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. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE HAPPY FAMILY +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +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> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +HER PRAIRIE KNIGHT +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +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> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE RANGE DWELLERS +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +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> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE LURE OF DIM TRAILS +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +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. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE LONESOME TRAIL +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"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. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE LONG SHADOW +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +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> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +<I>Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction</I> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK +</P> + +<BR> + +<HR> + +<BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHARMING BOOKS FOR GIRLS +</H2> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +WHEN PATTY WENT TO COLLEGE, By Jean Webster. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Illustrated by C. D. Williams. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +One of the best stories of life in a girl's college that has ever been +written. It is bright, whimsical and entertaining, lifelike, laughable +and thoroughly human. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +JUST PATTY, By Jean Webster. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Illustrated by C. M. Relyea. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Patty is full of the joy of living, fun-loving, given to ingenious +mischief for its own sake, with a disregard for pretty convention which +is an unfailing source of joy to her fellows. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE POOR LITTLE RICH GIRL. By Eleanor Gates. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +With four full page illustrations. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +This story relates the experience of one of those unfortunate children +whose early days are passed in the companionship of a governess, seldom +seeing either parent, and famishing for natural love and tenderness. A +charming play as dramatized by the author. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +REBECCA OF SUNNYBROOK FARM, By Kate Douglas Wiggin. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +One of the most beautiful studies of childhood—Rebecca's artistic, +unusual and quaintly charming qualities stand out midst a circle of +austere New Englanders. The stage version is making a phenomenal +dramatic record. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +NEW CHRONICLES OF REBECCA, By Kate Douglas Wiggin. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Additional episodes in the girlhood of this delightful heroine that +carry Rebecca through various stages to her eighteenth birthday. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +REBECCA MARY, By Annie Hamilton Donnell. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Illustrated by Elizabeth Shippen Green. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +This author possesses the rare gift of portraying all the grotesque +little joys and sorrows and scruples of this very small girl with a +pathos that is peculiarly genuine and appealing. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +EMMY LOU: Her Book and Heart, By George Madden Martin, +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Illustrated by Charles Louis Hinton. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Emmy Lou is irresistibly lovable, because she is so absolutely real. +She is just a bewitchingly innocent, hugable little maid. The book is +wonderfully human. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +<I>Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction</I> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK +</P> + +<BR> + +<HR> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE NOVELS OF +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CLARA LOUISE BURNHAM +</H2> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +JEWEL: A Chapter in Her Life. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Illustrated by Maude and Genevieve Cowles. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +A story breathing the doctrine of love and patience as exemplified in +the life of a child. Jewel will never grow old because of the +immortality of her love. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +JEWEL'S STORY BOOK. Illustrated by Albert Schmitt +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +A sequel to "Jewel," in which the same characteristics of love and +cheerfulness touch and uplift the reader. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE INNER FLAME. Frontispiece in color. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +A young mining engineer, whose chief ambition is to become an artist, +but who has no friends with whom to realize his hopes, has a way opened +to him to try his powers, and, of course, he is successful. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE RIGHT PRINCESS. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +At a fashionable Long Island resort, a stately English woman employs a +forcible New England housekeeper to serve in her interesting home. +Many humorous situations results. A delightful love affair runs +through it all. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE OPENED SHUTTERS. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Illustrated with Scenes from the Photo Play. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +A beautiful woman, at discord with life, is brought to realize, by her +new friends, that she may open the shutters of her soul to the blessed +sunlight of joy by casting aside self love. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE RIGHT TRACK. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Frontispiece in color by Greene Blumenschien. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +A story of a young girl who marries for money so that she can enjoy +things intellectual. Neglect of her husband and of her two step +children makes an unhappy home till a friend brings a new philosophy of +happiness into the household. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +CLEVER BETSY. Illustrated by Rose O'Neill. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +The "Clever Betsy" was a boat—named for the unyielding spinster whom +the captain hoped to marry. Through the two Betsy's a delightful group +of people are introduced. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +<I>Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction</I> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK +</P> + +<BR> + +<HR> + +<BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +SEWELL FORD'S STORIES +</H2> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +SHORTY McCABE. Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +A very humorous story. The hero, an independent and vigorous thinker, +sees life, and tells about it in a very unconventional way. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Twenty skits, presenting people with their foibles, sympathy, with +human nature and an abounding sense of humor are the requisites for +"side-stepping with Shorty." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Shorty McCabe reappears with his figures of speech revamped right up to +the minute. He aids in the right distribution of a "conscience fund," +and gives joy to all concerned. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +SHORTY McCABE'S ODD NUMBERS. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +These further chronicles of Shorty McCabe tell of his studio for +physical culture, and of his experiences both on the East side and at +swell yachting parties. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +TORCHY. Illus. by Geo. Biehm and Jas. Montgomery Flagg. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +A red-headed office boy, overflowing with wit and wisdom peculiar to +the youths reared on the sidewalks of New York, tells the story of his +experiences. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +TRYING OUT TORCHY. Illustrated by F. Foster Lincoln. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Torchy is just as deliriously funny in these stories as he was in the +previous book. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +ON WITH TORCHY. Illustrated by F. Foster Lincoln. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Torchy falls desperately in love with "the only girl that ever was," +but that young society woman's aunt tries to keep the young people +apart, which brings about many hilariously funny situations. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +TORCHY, PRIVATE SEC. Illustrated by F. Foster Lincoln. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Torchy rises from the position of office boy to that of secretary for +the Corrugated Iron Company. The story is full of humor and infectious +American slang. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +WILT THOU TORCHY. Illus. by F. Snapp and A. W. Brown. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Torchy goes on a treasure search expedition to the Florida West Coast, +in company with a group of friends of the Corrugated Trust and with his +friend's aunt, on which trip Torchy wins the aunt's permission to place +an engagement ring on Vee's finger. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK +</P> + +<BR> + +<HR> + +<BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +JACK LONDON'S NOVELS +</H2> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +JOHN BARLEYCORN. Illustrated by H. T. Dunn. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +This remarkable book is a record of the author's own amazing +experiences. This big, brawny world rover, who has been acquainted +with alcohol from boyhood, comes out boldly against John Barleycorn. +It is a string of exciting adventures, yet it forcefully conveys an +unforgetable idea and makes a typical Jack London book. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE VALLEY OF THE MOON. Frontispiece by George Harper. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +The story opens in the city slums where Billy Roberts, teamster and +ex-prize fighter, and Saxon Brown, laundry worker, meet and love and +marry. They tramp from one end of California to the other, and in the +Valley of the Moon find the farm paradise that is to be their salvation. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +BURNING DAYLIGHT. Four illustrations. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +The story of an adventurer who went to Alaska and laid the foundations +of his fortune before the gold hunters arrived. Bringing his fortunes +to the States he is cheated out of it by a crowd of money kings, and +recovers it only at the muzzle of his gun. He then starts out as a +merciless exploiter on his own account. Finally he takes to drinking +and becomes a picture of degeneration. About this time he falls in +love with his stenographer and wins her heart but not her hand and +then—but read the story! +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +A SON OF THE SUN. Illustrated by A. O. Fischer and C. W. Ashley. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +David Grief was once a light-haired, blue-eyed youth who came from +England to the South Seas in search of adventure. Tanned like a native +and as lithe as a tiger, he became a real son of the sun. The life +appealed to him and he remained and became very wealthy. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE CALL OF THE WILD. Illustrations by Philip R. Goodwin and Charles +Livingston Bull. Decorations by Charles E. Hooper. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +A book of dog adventures as exciting as any man's exploits could be. +Here is excitement to stir the blood and here is picturesque color to +transport the reader to primitive scenes. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE SEA WOLF. Illustrated by W. J. Aylward. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Told by a man whom Fate suddenly swings from his fastidious life into +the power of the brutal captain of a sealing schooner. A novel of +adventure warmed by a beautiful love episode that every reader will +hail with delight. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +WHITE FANG. Illustrated by Charles Livingston Bull. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"White Fang" is part dog, part wolf and all brute, living in the frozen +north; he gradually comes under the spell of man's companionship, and +surrenders all at the last in a fight with a bull dog. Thereafter he +is man's loving slave. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK +</P> + +<BR> + +<HR> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +NOVELS OF FRONTIER LIFE BY +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +WILLIAM MacLEOD RAINE +</H2> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +HANDSOMELY BOUND IN CLOTH. ILLUSTRATED. +</H4> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +MAVERICKS. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +A tale of the western frontier, where the "rustler," whose depredations +are so keenly resented by the early settlers of the range, abounds. +One of the sweetest love stories ever told. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +A TEXAS RANGER. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +How a member of the most dauntless border police force carried law into +the mesquit, saved the life of an innocent man after a series of +thrilling adventures, followed a fugitive to Wyoming, and then passed +through deadly peril to ultimate happiness. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +WYOMING. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +In this vivid story of the outdoor West the author has captured the +breezy charm of "cattleland," and brings out the turbid life of the +frontier with all its engaging dash and vigor. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +RIDGWAY OF MONTANA. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +The scene is laid in the mining centers of Montana, where politics and +mining industries are the religion of the country. The political +contest, the love scene, and the fine character drawing give this story +great strength and charm. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +BUCKY O'CONNOR. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Every chapter teems with wholesome, stirring adventures, replete with +the dashing spirit of the border, told with dramatic dash and absorbing +fascination of style and plot. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +CROOKED TRAILS AND STRAIGHT. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +A story of Arizona; of swift-riding men and daring outlaws; of a bitter +feud between cattle-men and sheep-herders. The heroine is a most +unusual woman and her love story reaches a culmination that is +fittingly characteristic of the great free West. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +BRAND BLOTTERS. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +A story of the Cattle Range. This story brings out the turbid life of +the frontier, with all its engaging dash and vigor, with a charming +love interest running through its 320 pages. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Side-stepping with Shorty, by Sewell Ford + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY *** + +***** This file should be named 31659-h.htm or 31659-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/6/5/31659/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Side-stepping with Shorty + +Author: Sewell Ford + +Illustrator: Francis Vaux Wilson + +Release Date: March 15, 2010 [EBook #31659] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: THEY TACKLES ANYTHING I LEADS 'EM UP TO] + + + + + +Side-stepping + +with Shorty + + + +_By_ + + +Sewell Ford + + + +_Illustrated by_ + +_Francis Vaux Wilson_ + + + + +NEW YORK + +GROSSET & DUNLAP + +PUBLISHERS + + + + +_Copyright, 1908, by Mitchell Kennerley_ + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + I. SHORTY AND THE PLUTE + II. ROUNDING UP MAGGIE + III. UP AGAINST BENTLEY + IV. THE TORTONIS' STAR ACT + V. PUTTING PINCKNEY ON THE JOB + VI. THE SOARING OF THE SAGAWAS + VII. RINKEY AND THE PHONY LAMP + VIII. PINCKNEY AND THE TWINS + IX. A LINE ON PEACOCK ALLEY + X. SHORTY AND THE STRAY + XI. WHEN ROSSITER CUT LOOSE + XII. TWO ROUNDS WITH SYLVIE + XIII. GIVING BOMBAZOULA THE HOOK + XIV. A HUNCH FOR LANGDON + XV. SHORTY'S GO WITH ART + XVI. WHY WILBUR DUCKED + XVII. WHEN SWIFTY WAS GOING SOME + XVIII. PLAYING WILBUR TO SHOW + XIX. AT HOME WITH THE DILLONS + XX. THE CASE OF RUSTY QUINN + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + +THEY TACKLES ANYTHING I LEADS 'EM TO . . . . . . _Frontispiece_ + +THE TWINS ORGANIZE A GAME OF TAG + +"WE--E--E--OUGH! GLORY BE!" YELLS HANK, LETTIN' OUT AN EARSPLITTER + +HE HAS THE PO'TRY TAP TURNED ON FULL BLAST + + + + +I + +SHORTY AND THE PLUTE + +Notice any gold dust on my back? No? Well it's a wonder there ain't, +for I've been up against the money bags so close I expect you can find +eagle prints all over me. + +That's what it is to build up a rep. Looks like all the fat wads in +New York was gettin' to know about Shorty McCabe, and how I'm a sure +cure for everything that ails 'em. You see, I no sooner take hold of +one down and outer, sweat the high livin' out of him, and fix him up +like new with a private course of rough house exercises, than he passes +the word along to another; and so it goes. + +This last was the limit, though. One day I'm called to the 'phone by +some mealy mouth that wants to know if this is the Physical Culture +Studio. + +"Sure as ever," says I. + +"Well," says he, "I'm secretary to Mr. Fletcher Dawes." + +"That's nice," says I. "How's Fletch?" + +"Mr. Dawes," says he, "will see the professah at fawh o'clock this +awfternoon." + +"Is that a guess," says I, "or has he been havin' his fortune told?" + +"Who is this?" says the gent at the other end of the wire, real sharp +and sassy. + +"Only me," says I. + +"Well, who are you?" says he. + +"I'm the witness for the defence," says I. "I'm Professor McCabe, P. +C. D., and a lot more that I don't use on week days." + +"Oh!" says he, simmerin' down a bit. "This is Professor McCabe +himself, is it? Well, Mr. Fletcher Dawes requiahs youah services. You +are to repawt at his apartments at fawh o'clock this awfternoon--fawh +o'clock, understand?" + +"Oh, yes," says I. "That's as plain as a dropped egg on a plate of +hash. But say, Buddy; you tell Mr. Dawes that next time he wants me +just to pull the string. If that don't work, he can whistle; and when +he gets tired of whistlin', and I ain't there, he'll know I ain't +comin'. Got them directions? Well, think hard, and maybe you'll +figure it out later. Ta, ta, Mister Secretary." With that I hangs up +the receiver and winks at Swifty Joe. + +"Swifty," says I, "they'll be usin' us for rubber stamps if we don't +look out." + +"Who was the guy?" says he. + +"Some pinhead up to Fletcher Dawes's," says I. + +"Hully chee!" says Swifty. + +Funny, ain't it, how most everyone'll prick up their ears at that name? +And it don't mean so much money as John D.'s or Morgan's does, either. +But what them two and Harriman don't own is divided up among Fletcher +Dawes and a few others. Maybe it's because Dawes is such a free +spender that he's better advertised. Anyway, when you say Fletcher +Dawes you think of a red-faced gent with a fistful of thousand-dollar +bills offerin' to buy the White House for a stable. + +But say, he might have twice as much, and I wouldn't hop any quicker. +I'm only livin' once, and it may be long or short, but while it lasts I +don't intend to do the lackey act for anyone. + +Course, I thinks the jolt I gave that secretary chap closes the +incident. But around three o'clock that same day, though, I looks down +from the front window and sees a heavy party in a fur lined overcoat +bein' helped out of a shiny benzine wagon by a pie faced valet, and +before I'd done guessin' where they was headed for they shows up in the +office door. + +"My name is Dawes. Fletcher Dawes," says the gent in the overcoat. + +"I could have guessed that," says I. "You look somethin' like the +pictures they print of you in the Sunday papers." + +"I'm sorry to hear it," says he. + +But say, he's less of a prize hog than you'd think, come to get +near--forty-eight around the waist, I should say, and about a number +sixteen collar. You wouldn't pick him out by his face as the kind of a +man that you'd like to have holdin' a mortgage on the old homestead, +though, nor one you'd like to sit opposite to in a poker game--eyes +about a quarter of an inch apart, lima bean ears buttoned down close, +and a mouth like a crack in the pavement. + +He goes right at tellin' what he wants and when he wants it, sayin' +he's a little out of condition and thinks a few weeks of my trainin' +was just what he needed. Also he throws out that I might come up to +the Brasstonia and begin next day. + +"Yes?" says I. "I heard somethin' like that over the 'phone." + +"From Corson, eh?" says he. "He's an ass! Never mind him. You'll be +up to-morrow?" + +"Say," says I, "where'd you get the idea I went out by the day?" + +"Why," says he, "it seems to me I heard something about----" + +"Maybe they was personal friends of mine," says I. "That's different. +Anybody else comes here to see me." + +"Ah!" says he, suckin' in his breath through his teeth and levelin' +them blued steel eyes of his at me. "I suppose you have your price?" + +"No," says I; "but I'll make one, just special for you. It'll be ten +dollars a minute." + +Say, what's the use? We saves up till we gets a little wad of twenties +about as thick as a roll of absorbent cotton, and with what we got in +the bank and some that's lent out, we feel as rich as platter gravy. +Then we bumps up against a really truly plute, and gets a squint at his +dinner check, and we feels like panhandlers workin' a side street. +Honest, with my little ten dollars a minute gallery play, I thought I +was goin' to have him stunned. + +"That's satisfactory," says he. "To-morrow, at four." + +That's all. I'm still standin' there with my mouth open when he's +bein' tucked in among the tiger skins. And I'm bought up by the hour, +like a bloomin' he massage artist! Feel? I felt like I'd fit loose in +a gas pipe. + +But Swifty, who's had his ear stretched out and his eyes bugged all the +time, begins to do the walk around and look me over as if I was a new +wax figger in a museum. + +"Ten plunks a minute!" says he. "Hully chee!" + +"Ah, forget it!" says I. "D'ye suppose I want to be reminded that I've +broke into the bath rubber class? G'wan! Next time you see me prob'ly +I'll be wearin' a leather collar and a tag. Get the mitts on, you +South Brooklyn bridge rusher, and let me show you how I can hit before +I lose my nerve altogether!" + +Swifty says he ain't been used so rough since the time he took the +count from Cans; but it was a relief to my feelin's; and when he come +to reckon up that I'd handed him two hundred dollars' worth of punches +without chargin' him a red, he says he'd be proud to have me do it +every day. + +If it hadn't been that I'd chucked the bluff myself, I'd scratched the +Dawes proposition. But I ain't no hand to welch; so up I goes next +afternoon, with my gym. suit in a bag, and gets my first inside view of +the Brasstonia, where the plute hangs out. And say, if you think these +down town twenty-five-a-day joints is swell, you ought to get some +Pittsburg friend to smuggle you into one of these up town apartment +hotels that's run exclusively for trust presidents. Why, they don't +have any front doors at all. You're expected to come and go in your +bubble, but the rules lets you use a cab between certain hours. + +I tries to walk in, and was held up by a three hundred pound special +cop in grey and gold, and made to prove that I didn't belong in the +baggage elevator or the ash hoist. Then I'm shown in over the Turkish +rugs to a solid gold passenger lift, set in a velvet arm chair, and +shot up to the umpteenth floor. + +I was lookin' to find Mr. Dawes located in three or four rooms and +bath, but from what I could judge of the size of his ranch he must pay +by acreage instead of the square foot, for he has a whole wing to +himself. And as for hired help, they was standin' around in clusters, +all got up in baby blue and silver, with mugs as intelligent as so many +frozen codfish. Say, it would give me chillblains on the soul to have +to live with that gang lookin' on! + +I'm shunted from one to the other, until I gets to Dawes, and he leads +the way into a big room with rubber mats, punchin' bags, and all the +fixin's you could think of. + +"Will this do?" says he. + +"It'll pass," says I. "And if you'll chase out that bunch of +employment bureau left-overs, we'll get down to business." + +"But," says he, "I thought you might need some of my men to----" + +"I don't," says I, "and while you're mixin' it with me you won't, +either." + +At that he shoos 'em all out and shuts the door. I opens the window +so's to get in some air that ain't been strained and currycombed and +scented with violets, and then we starts to throw the shot bag around. +I find Fletcher is short winded and soft. He's got a bad liver and a +worse heart, for five or six years' trainin' on wealthy water and pate +de foie gras hasn't done him any good. Inside of ten minutes he knows +just how punky he is himself, and he's ready to follow any directions I +lay down. + +As I'm leavin', a nice, slick haired young feller calls me over and +hands me an old rose tinted check. It was for five hundred and twenty. + +"Fifty-two minutes, professor," says he. + +"Oh, let that pyramid," says I, tossin' it back. + +Honest, I never shied so at money before, but somehow takin' that went +against the grain. Maybe it was the way it was shoved at me. + +I'd kind of got interested in the job of puttin' Dawes on his feet, +though, and Thursday I goes up for another session. Just as I steps +off the elevator at his floor I hears a scuffle, and out comes a couple +of the baby blue bunch, shoving along an old party with her bonnet +tilted over one ear. I gets a view of her face, though, and I sees +she's a nice, decent lookin' old girl, that don't seem to be either +tanked or batty, but just kind of scared. A Willie boy in a frock coat +was followin' along behind, and as they gets to me he steps up, grabs +her by the arm, and snaps out: + +"Now you leave quietly, or I'll hand you over to the police! +Understand?" + +That scares her worse than ever, and she rolls her eyes up to me in +that pleadin' way a dog has when he's been hurt. + +"Hear that?" says one of the baby blues, shakin' her up. + +My fingers went into bunches as sudden as if I'd touched a live wire, +but I keeps my arms down. "Ah, say!" says I. "I don't see any call +for the station-house drag out just yet. Loosen up there a bit, will +you?" + +"Mind your business!" says one of 'em, givin' me the glary eye. + +"Thanks," says I. "I was waitin' for an invite," and I reaches out and +gets a shut-off grip on their necks. It didn't take 'em long to loosen +up after that. + +"Here, here!" says the Willie that I'd spotted for Corson. "Oh, it's +you is it, professor?" + +"Yes, it's me," says I, still holdin' the pair at arms' length. +"What's the row?" + +"Why," says Corson, "this old woman----" + +"Lady," says I. + +"Aw--er--yes," says he. "She insists on fawcing her way in to see Mr. +Dawes." + +"Well," says I, "she ain't got no bag of dynamite, or anything like +that, has she?" + +"I just wanted a word with Fletcher," says she, buttin' in--"just a +word or two." + +"Friend of yours?" says I. + +"Why-- Well, we have known each other for forty years," says she. + +"That ought to pass you in," says I, + +"But she refuses to give her name," says Corson. + +"I am Mrs. Maria Dawes," says she, holdin' her chin up and lookin' him +straight between the eyes. + +"You're not on the list," says Corson. + +"List be blowed!" says I. "Say, you peanut head, can't you see this is +some relation? You ought to have sense enough to get a report from the +boss, before you carry out this quick bounce business. Perhaps you're +puttin' your foot in it, son." + +Then Corson weakens, and the old lady throws me a look that was as good +as a vote of thanks. And say, when she'd straightened her lid and +pulled herself together, she was as ladylike an old party as you'd want +to meet. There wa'n't much style about her, but she was dressed +expensive enough--furs, and silks, and sparks in her ears. Looked like +one of the sort that had been up against a long run of hard luck and +had come through without gettin' sour. + +While we was arguin', in drifts Mr. Dawes himself. I gets a glimpse of +his face when he first spots the old girl, and if ever I see a mouth +shut like a safe door, and a jaw stiffen as if it had turned to +concrete, his did. + +"What does this mean, Maria?" he says between his teeth. + +"I couldn't help it, Fletcher," says she. "I wanted to see you about +little Bertie." + +"Huh!" grunts Fletcher. "Well, step in this way. McCabe, you can come +along too." + +I wa'n't stuck on the way it was said, and didn't hanker for mixin' up +with any such reunions; but it didn't look like Maria had any too many +friends handy, so I trots along. When we're shut in, with the +draperies pulled, Mr. Dawes plants his feet solid, shoves his hands +down into his pockets, and looks Maria over careful. + +"Then you have lost the address of my attorneys?" says he, real frosty. + +That don't chill Maria at all. She acted like she was used to it. +"No," says she; "but I'm tired of talking to lawyers. I couldn't tell +them about Bertie, and how lonesome I've been without him these last +two years. Can't I have him, Fletcher?" + +About then I begins to get a glimmer of what it was all about, and by +the time she'd gone on for four or five minutes I had the whole story. +Maria was the ex-Mrs. Fletcher Dawes. Little Bertie was a grandson; +and grandma wanted Bertie to come and live with her in the big Long +Island place that Fletcher had handed her when he swapped her off for +one of the sextet, and settled up after the decree was granted. + +Hearin' that brought the whole thing back, for the papers printed pages +about the Daweses; rakin' up everything, from the time Fletcher run a +grocery store and lodgin' house out to Butte, and Maria helped him sell +flour and canned goods, besides makin' beds, and jugglin' pans, and +takin' in washin' on the side; to the day Fletcher euchred a prospector +out of the mine that gave him his start. + +"You were satisfied with the terms of the settlement, when it was +made," says Mr. Dawes. + +"I know," says she; "but I didn't think how badly I should miss Bertie. +That is an awful big house over there, and I am getting to be an old +woman now, Fletcher." + +"Yes, you are," says he, his mouth corners liftin' a little. "But +Bertie's in school, where he ought to be and where he is going to stay. +Anything more?" + +I looks at Maria. Her upper lip was wabblin' some, but that's all. +"No, Fletcher," says she. "I shall go now." + +She was just about startin', when there's music on the other side of +the draperies. It sounds like Corson was havin' his troubles with +another female. Only this one had a voice like a brass cornet, and she +was usin' it too. + +"Why can't I go in there?" says she. "I'd like to know why! Eh, +what's that? A woman in there?" + +And in she comes. She was a pippin, all right. As she yanks back the +curtain and rushes in she looks about as friendly as a spotted leopard +that's been stirred up with an elephant hook; but when she sizes up the +comp'ny that's present she cools off and lets go a laugh that gives us +an iv'ry display worth seein'. + +"Oh!" says she. "Fletchy, who's the old one?" + +Say, I expect Dawes has run into some mighty worryin' scenes before +now, havin' been indicted once or twice and so on, but I'll bet he +never bucked up against the equal of this before. He opens his mouth a +couple of times, but there don't seem to be any language on tap. The +missus was ready, though. + +"Maria Dawes is my name, my dear," says she. + +"Maria!" says the other one, lookin' some staggered. "Why--why, then +you--you're Number One!" + +Maria nods her head. + +Then Fletcher gets his tongue out of tangle. "Maria," says he, "this +is my wife, Maizie." + +"Yes?" says Maria, as gentle as a summer night. "I thought this must +be Maizie. You're very young and pretty, aren't you? I suppose you go +about a lot? But you must be careful of Fletcher. He always was +foolish about staying up too late, and eating things that hurt him. I +used to have to warn him against black coffee and welsh rabbits. He +will eat them, and then he has one of his bad spells. Fletcher is +fifty-six now, you know, and----" + +"Maria!" says Mr. Dawes, his face the colour of a boiled beet, "that's +enough of this foolishness! Here, Corson! Show this lady out!" + +"Yes, I was just going, Fletcher," says she. + +"Good-bye, Maria!" sings out Maizie, and then lets out another of her +soprano ha-ha's, holdin' her sides like she was tickled to death. +Maybe it was funny to her; it wa'n't to Fletcher. + +"Come, McCabe," says he; "we'll get to work." + +Say, I can hold in about so long, and then I've got to blow off or else +bust a cylinder head. I'd had about enough of this "Come, McCabe" +business, too. "Say, Fletchy," says I, "don't be in any grand rush. I +ain't so anxious to take you on as you seem to think." + +"What's that?" he spits out. + +"You keep your ears open long enough and you'll hear it all," says I; +for I was gettin' hotter an' hotter under the necktie. "I just want to +say that I've worked up a grouch against this job durin' the last few +minutes. I guess I'll chuck it up." + +That seemed to go in deep. Mr. Dawes, he brings his eyes together +until nothin' but the wrinkle keeps 'em apart, and he gets the hectic +flush on his cheek bones. "I don't understand," says he. + +"This is where I quit," says I. "That's all." + +"But," says he, "you must have some reason." + +"Sure," says I; "two of 'em. One's just gone out. That's the other," +and I jerks my thumb at Maizie. + +She'd been rollin' her eyes from me to Dawes, and from Dawes back to +me. "What does this fellow mean by that?" says Maizie. "Fletcher, why +don't you have him thrown out?" + +"Yes, Fletcher," says I, "why don't you? I'd love to be thrown out +just now!" + +Someway, Fletcher wasn't anxious, although he had lots of bouncers +standin' idle within call. He just stands there and looks at his toes, +while Maizie tongue lashes first me and then him. When she gets +through I picks up my hat. + +"So long, Fletchy," says I. "What work I put in on you the other day +I'm goin' to make you a present of. If I was you, I'd cash that check +and buy somethin' that would please Maizie." + + +"D'jer annex another five or six hundred up to the Brasstonia this +afternoon?" asks Swifty, when I gets back. + +"Nix," says I. "All I done was to organise a wife convention and get +myself disliked. That ten-a-minute deal is off. But say, Swifty, just +remember I've dodged makin' the bath rubber class, and I'm satisfied at +that." + + + + +II + +ROUNDING UP MAGGIE + +Say, who was tellin' you? Ah, g'wan! Them sea shore press agents is +full of fried eels. Disguises; nothin'! Them folks I has with me was +the real things. The Rev. Doc. Akehead? Not much. That was my little +old Bishop. And it wa'n't any slummin' party at all. It was just a +little errand of mercy that got switched. + +It was this way: The Bishop, he shows up at the Studio for his reg'lar +medicine ball work, that I'm givin' him so's he can keep his equator +from gettin' the best of his latitude. That's all on the quiet, +though. It's somethin' I ain't puttin' on the bulletin board, or +includin' in my list of references, understand? + +Well, we has had our half-hour session and the Bishop has just made a +break for the cold shower and the dressin' room, while I'm preparin' to +shed my workin' clothes for the afternoon; when in pops Swifty Joe, +closin' the gym. door behind him real soft and mysterious. + +"Shorty," says he in that hoarse whisper he gets on when he's excited, +"she's--she's come!" + +"Who's come?" says I. + +"S-s-sh!" says he, wavin' his hands. "It's the old girl; and she's got +a gun!" + +"Ah, say!" says I. "Come out of the trance. What old girl? And what +about the gun?" + +Maybe you've never seen Swifty when he's real stirred up? He wears a +corrugated brow, and his lower jaw hangs loose, leavin' the Mammoth +Cave wide open, and his eyes bug out like shoe buttons. His thoughts +come faster than he can separate himself from the words; so it's hard +gettin' at just what he means to say. But, as near as I can come to +it, there's a wide female party waitin' out in the front office for me, +with blood in her eye and a self cockin' section of the unwritten law +in her fist. + +Course, I knows right off there must be some mistake, or else it's a +case of dope, and I says so. But Swifty is plumb sure she knew who she +was askin' for when she calls for me, and begs me not to go out. He's +for ringin' up the police. + +"Ring up nobody!" says I. "S'pose I want this thing gettin' into the +papers? If a Lady Bughouse has strayed in here, we got to shoo her out +as quiet as possible. She can't shoot if we rush her. Come on!" + +I will say for Swifty Joe that, while he ain't got any too much sense, +there's no ochre streak in him. When I pulls open the gym. door and +gives the word, we went through neck and neck. + +"Look out!" he yells, and I sees him makin' a grab at the arm of a +broad beamed old party, all done up nicely in grey silk and white lace. + +And say, it's lucky I got a good mem'ry for profiles; for if I hadn't +seen right away it was Purdy Bligh's Aunt Isabella, and that the gun +was nothin' but her silver hearin' tube, we might have been tryin' to +explain it to her yet. As it is, I'm just near enough to make a swipe +for Swifty's right hand with my left, and I jerks his paw back just as +she turns around from lookin' out of the window and gets her lamps on +us. Say, we must have looked like a pair of batty ones, standin' there +holdin' hands and starin' at her! But it seems that folks as deaf as +she is ain't easy surprised. All she does is feel around her for her +gold eye glasses with one hand, and fit the silver hearin' machine to +her off ear with the other. It's one of these pepper box affairs, and +I didn't much wonder that Swifty took it for a gun. + +"Are you Professor McCabe?" says she. + +"Sure!" I hollers; and Swifty, not lookin' for such strenuous +conversation, goes up in the air about two feet. + +"I beg pardon," says the old girl; "but will you kindly speak into the +audiphone." + +So I steps up closer, forgettin' that I still has the clutch on Swifty, +and drags him along. + +"Ahr, chee!" says Swifty. "This ain't no brother act, is it?" + +With that I lets him go, and me and Aunt Isabella gets down to +business. I was lookin' for some tale about Purdy--tell you about him +some day--but it looks like this was a new deal; for she opens up by +askin' if I knew a party by the name of Dennis Whaley. + +"Do I?" says I. "I've known Dennis ever since I can remember knowin' +anybody. He's runnin' my place out to Primrose Park now." + +"I thought so," says Aunt Isabella. "Then perhaps you know a niece of +his, Margaret Whaley?" + +I didn't; but I'd heard of her. She's Terence Whaley's girl, that come +over from Skibbereen four or five years back, after near starvin' to +death one wet season when the potato crop was so bad. Well, it seems +Maggie has worked a couple of years for Aunt Isabella as kitchen girl. +Then she's got ambitious, quit service, and got a flatwork job in a +hand laundry--eight per, fourteen hours a day, Saturday sixteen. + +I didn't tumble why all this was worth chinnin' about until Aunt +Isabella reminds me that she's president and board of directors of the +Lady Pot Wrestlers' Improvement Society. She's one of the kind that +spends her time tryin' to organise study classes for hired girls who +have different plans for spendin' their Thursday afternoons off. + +Seems that Aunt Isabella has been keepin' special tabs on Maggie, +callin' at the laundry to give her good advice, and leavin' her books +to read,--which I got a tintype of her readin', not,--and otherwise +doin' the upliftin' act accordin' to rule. But along in the early +summer Maggie had quit the laundry without consultin' the old girl +about it. Aunt Isabella kept on the trail, though, run down her last +boardin' place, and begun writin' her what she called helpful letters. +She kept this up until she was handed the ungrateful jolt. The last +letter come back to her with a few remarks scribbled across the face, +indicatin' that readin' such stuff gave Maggie a pain in the small of +her back. But the worst of it all was, accordin' to Aunt Isabella, +that Maggie was in Coney Island. + +"Think of it!" says she. "That poor, innocent girl, living in that +dreadfully wicked place! Isn't it terrible?" + +"Oh, I don't know," says I. "It all depends." + +"Hey?" says the old girl. "What say?" + +Ever try to carry on a debate through a silver salt shaker? It's the +limit. Thinkin' it would be a lot easier to agree with her, I shouts +out, "Sure thing!" and nods my head. She nods back and rolls her eyes. + +"She must be rescued at once!" says Aunt Isabella. "Her uncle ought to +be notified. Can't you send for him?" + +As it happens, Dennis had come down that mornin' to see an old friend +of his that was due to croak; so I figures it out that the best way +would be to get him and the old lady together and let 'em have it out. +I chases Swifty down to West 11th-st. to bring Dennis back in a hurry, +and invites Aunt Isabella to make herself comfortable until he comes. + +She's too excited to sit down, though. She goes pacin' around the +front office, now and then lookin' me over suspicious,--me bein' still +in my gym. suit,--and then sizin' up the sportin' pictures on the wall. +My art exhibit is mostly made up of signed photos of Jeff and Fitz and +Nelson in their ring costumes, and it was easy to see she's some jarred. + +"I hope this is a perfectly respectable place, young man," says she. + +"It ain't often pulled by the cops," says I. + +Instead of calmin' her down, that seems to stir her up worse'n ever. +"I should hope not!" says she. "How long must I wait here?" + +"No longer'n you feel like waitin', ma'am," says I. + +And just then the gym. door opens, and in walks the Bishop, that I'd +clean forgot all about. + +"Why, Bishop!" squeals Aunt Isabella. "You here!" + +Say, it didn't need any second sight to see that the Bishop would have +rather met 'most anybody else at that particular minute; but he hands +her the neat return. "It appears that I am," says he. "And you?" + +Well, it was up to her to do the explainin'. She gives him the whole +history of Maggie Whaley, windin' up with how she's been last heard +from at Coney Island. + +"Isn't it dreadful, Bishop?" says she. "And can't you do something to +help rescue her?" + +Now I was lookin' for the Bishop to say somethin' soothin'; but hanged +if he don't chime in and admit that it's a sad case and he'll do what +he can to help. About then Swifty shows up with Dennis, and Aunt +Isabella lays it before him. Now, accordin' to his own account, Dennis +and Terence always had it in for each other at home, and he never took +much stock in Maggie, either. But after he'd listened to Aunt Isabella +for a few minutes, hearin' her talk about his duty to the girl, and how +she ought to be yanked off the toboggan of sin, he takes it as serious +as any of 'em. + +"Wurrah, wurrah!" says he, "but this do be a black day for the Whaleys! +It's the McGuigan blood comin' out in her. What's to be done, mum?" + +Aunt Isabella has a program all mapped out. Her idea is to get up a +rescue expedition on the spot, and start for Coney. She says Dennis +ought to go; for he's Maggie's uncle and has got some authority; and +she wants the Bishop, to do any prayin' over her that may be needed. + +"As for me," says she, "I shall do my best to persuade her to leave her +wicked companions." + +Well, they was all agreed, and ready to start, when it comes out that +not one of the three has ever been to the island in their lives, and +don't know how to get there. At that I sees the Bishop lookin' +expectant at me. + +"Shorty," says he, "I presume you are somewhat familiar with +this--er--wicked resort?" + +"Not the one you're talkin' about," says I. "I've been goin' to Coney +every year since I was old enough to toddle; and I'll admit there has +been seasons when some parts of it was kind of tough; but as a general +proposition it never looked wicked to me." + +That kind of puzzles the Bishop. He says he's always understood that +the island was sort of a vent hole for the big sulphur works. Aunt +Isabella is dead sure of it too, and hints that maybe I ain't much of a +judge. Anyway, she thinks I'd be a good guide for a place of that +kind, and prods the Bishop on to urge me to go. + +"Well," says I, "just for a flier, I will." + +So, as soon as I've changed my clothes, we starts for the iron +steamboats, and plants ourselves on the upper deck. And say, we was a +sporty lookin' bunch--I don't guess! There was the Bishop, in his +little flat hat and white choker,--you couldn't mistake what he +was,--and Aunt Isabella, with her grey hair and her grey and white +costume, lookin' about as giddy as a marble angel on a tombstone. Then +there's Dennis, who has put on the black whip cord Prince Albert he +always wears when he's visitin' sick friends or attendin' funerals. +The only festive lookin' point about him was the russet coloured throat +hedge he wears in place of a necktie. + +Honest, I felt sorry for them suds slingers that travels around the +deck singin' out, "Who wants the waiter?" Every time one would come +our way he'd get as far as "Who wants----" and then he'd switch off +with an "Ah, chee!" and go away disgusted. + +All the way down, the old girl has her eye out for wickedness. The +sight of Adolph, the grocery clerk, dippin' his beak into a mug of +froth, moves her to sit up and give him the stony glare; while a +glimpse of a young couple snugglin' up against each other along the +rail almost gives her a spasm. + +"Such brazen depravity!" says she to the Bishop. + +By the time we lands at the iron pier she has knocked Coney so much +that I has worked up a first class grouch. + +"Come on!" says I. "Let's have Maggie's address and get through with +this rescue business before all you good folks is soggy with sin." + +Then it turns out she ain't got any address at all. The most she knows +is that Maggie's somewhere on the island. + +"Well," I shouts into the tube, "Coney's something of a place, you see! +What's your idea of findin' her?" + +"We must search," says Aunt Isabella, prompt and decided. + +"Mean to throw out a regular drag net?" says I. + +She does. Well, say, if you've ever been to Coney on a good day, when +there was from fifty to a hundred thousand folks circulatin' about, +you've got some notion of what a proposition of that kind means. +Course, I wa'n't goin to tackle the job with any hope of gettin' away +with it; but right there I'm struck with a pleasin' thought. + +"Do I gather that I'm to be the Commander Peary of this expedition?" +says I. + +It was a unanimous vote that I was. + +"Well," says I, "you know you can't carry it through on hot air. It +takes coin to get past the gates in this place." + +Aunt Isabella says she's prepared to stand all the expense. And what +do you suppose she passes out? A green five! + +"Ah, say, this ain't any Sunday school excursion," says I. "Why, that +wouldn't last us a block. Guess you'll have to dig deeper or call it +off." + +She was game, though. She brings up a couple of tens next dip, the +Bishop adds two more, and I heaves in one on my own hook. + +"Now understand," says I, "if I'm headin' this procession there mustn't +be any hangin' back or arguin' about the course. Coney's no place for +a quitter, and there's some queer corners in it; but we're lookin' for +a particular party, so we can't skip any. Follow close, don't ask me +fool questions, and everybody keep their eye skinned for Maggie. Is +that clear?" + +They said it was. + +"Then we're off in a bunch. This way!" says I. + +Say, it was almost too good to be true. I hadn't more'n got 'em inside +of Dreamland before they has their mouths open and their eyes popped, +and they was so rattled they didn't know whether they was goin' up or +comin' down. The Bishop grabs me by the elbow, Aunt Isabella gets a +desperate grip on his coat tails, and Dennis hooks two fingers into the +back of her belt. When we lines up like that we has the fat woman +takin' her first camel ride pushed behind the screen. The barkers out +in front of the dime attractions takes one look at us and loses their +voices for a whole minute--and it takes a good deal to choke up one of +them human cyclones. I gives 'em back the merry grin and blazes ahead. + +First thing I sees that looks good is the wiggle-waggle brass +staircase, where half of the steps goes up as the other comes down. + +"Now, altogether!" says I, feedin' the coupons to the ticket man, and I +runs 'em up against the liver restorer at top speed. Say that +exhibition must have done the rubbernecks good! First we was all +jolted up in a heap, then we was strung out like a yard of +frankfurters; but I kept 'em at it until we gets to the top. Aunt +Isabella has lost her breath and her bonnet has slid over one ear, the +Bishop is red in the face, and Dennis is puffin' like a freight engine. + +"No Maggie here," says I. "We'll try somewhere else." + +No. 2 on the event card was the water chutes, and while we was slidin' +up on the escalator they has a chance to catch their wind. They didn't +get any more'n they needed though; for just as Aunt Isabella has +started to ask the platform man if he'd seen anything of Maggie Whaley, +a boat comes up on the cogs, and I yells for 'em to jump in quick. The +next thing they knew we was scootin' down that slide at the rate of a +hundred miles an hour, with three of us holdin' onto our hats, and one +lettin' out forty squeals to the minute. + +"O-o-o o-o-o!" says Aunt Isabella, as we hits the water and does the +bounding bounce. + +"That's right," says I; "let 'em know you're here. It's the style." + +Before they've recovered from the chute ride I've hustled 'em over to +one of them scenic railroads, where you're yanked up feet first a +hundred feet or so, and then shot down through painted canvas mountains +for about a mile. Say, it was a hummer, too! I don't know what there +is about travellin' fast; but it always warms up my blood, and about +the third trip I feels like sendin' out yelps of joy. + +Course, I didn't expect it would have any such effect on the Bishop; +but as we went slammin' around a sharp corner I gets a look at his +face. And would you believe it, he's wearin' a reg'lar breakfast food +grin! Next plunge we take I hears a whoop from the back seat, and I +knows that Dennis has caught it, too. + +I was afraid maybe the old girl has fainted; but when we brings up at +the bottom and I has a chance to turn around, I finds her still +grippin' the car seat, her feet planted firm, and a kind of wild, +reckless look in her eyes. + +"We did that last lap a little rapid," says I. "Maybe we ought to +cover the ground again, just to be sure we didn't miss Maggie. How +about repeatin' eh?" + +"I--I wouldn't mind," says she. + +"Good!" says I. "Percy, send her off for another spiel." + +And we encores the performance, with Dennis givin' the Donnybrook call, +and the smile on the Bishop's face growin' wider and wider. Fun? I've +done them same stunts with a gang of real sporting men, and, never had +the half of it. + +After that my crowd was ready for anything. They forgets all about the +original proposition, and tackles anything I leads them up to, from +bumpin' the bumps to ridin' down in the tubs on the tickler. When we'd +got through with Dreamland and the Steeplechase, we wanders down the +Bowery and hits up some hot dog and green corn rations. + +By the time I gets ready to lead them across Surf-ave. to Luna Park it +was dark, and about a million incandescents had been turned on. Well, +you know the kind of picture they gets their first peep at. Course, +it's nothin' but white stucco and gold leaf and electric light, with +the blue sky beyond. But say, first glimpse you get, don't it knock +your eye out? + +"Whist!" says Dennis, gawpin' up at the front like lie meant to swallow +it. "Is ut the Blessed Gates we're comin' to?" + +"Magnificent!" says the Bishop. + +And just then Aunt Isabella gives a gasp and sings out, "Maggie!" + +Well, as Dennis says afterwards, in tellin' Mother Whaley about it, +"Glory be, would yez think ut? I hears her spake thot name, and up I +looks, and as I'm a breathin' man, there sits Maggie Whaley in a solid +goold chariot all stuck with jools, her hair puffed out like a crown, +and the very neck of her blazin' with pearls and di'monds. Maggie +Whaley, mind ye, the own daughter of Terence, that's me brother; and +her the boss of a place as big as the houses of parli'ment and finer +than Windsor castle on the King's birthday!" + +It was Maggie all right. She was sittin' in a chariot too--you've seen +them fancy ticket booths they has down to Luna. And she has had her +hair done up by an upholsterer, and put through a crimpin' machine. +That and the Brazilian near-gem necklace she wears does give her a kind +of a rich and fancy look, providin' you don't get too close. + +She wasn't exactly bossin' the show. She was sellin' combination +tickets, that let you in on so many rackets for a dollar. She'd +chucked the laundry job for this, and she was lookin' like she was glad +she'd made the shift. But here was four of us who'd come to rescue her +and lead her back to the ironin' board. + +Aunt Isabella makes the first break. She tells Maggie who she is and +why she's come. "Margaret," says she, "I do hope you will consent to +leave this wicked life. Please say you will, Margaret!" + +"Ah, turn it off!" says Maggie. "Me back to the sweat box at eight per +when I'm gettin' fourteen for this? Not on your ping pongs! Fade, +Aunty, fade!" + +Then the Bishop is pushed up to take his turn. He says he is glad to +meet Maggie, and hopes she likes her new job. Maggie says she does. +She lets out, too, that she's engaged to the gentleman what does a +refined acrobatic specialty in the third attraction on the left, and +that when they close in the fall he's goin' to coach her up so's they +can do a double turn in the continuous houses next winter at from sixty +to seventy-five per, each. So if she ever irons another shirt, it'll +be just to show that she ain't proud. + +And that's where the rescue expedition goes out of business with a low, +hollow plunk. Among the three of 'em not one has a word left to say. + +"Well, folks," says I, "what are we here for? Shall we finish the +evenin' like we begun? We're only alive once, you know, and this is +the only Coney there is. How about it?" + +Did we? Inside of two minutes Maggie has sold us four entrance +tickets, and we're headed for the biggest and wooziest thriller to be +found in the lot. + +"Shorty," says the Bishop, as we settles ourselves for a ride home on +the last boat, "I trust I have done nothing unseemly this evening." + +"What! You?" says I. "Why, Bishop, you're a reg'lar ripe old sport; +and any time you feel like cuttin' loose again, with Aunt Isabella or +without, just send in a call for me." + + + + +III + +UP AGAINST BENTLEY + +Say, where's Palopinto, anyway? Well neither did I. It's somewhere +around Dallas, but that don't help me any. Texas, eh? You sure don't +mean it! Why, I thought there wa'n't nothin' but one night stands down +there. But this Palopinto ain't in that class at all. Not much! It's +a real torrid proposition. No, I ain't been there; but I've been up +against Bentley, who has. + +He wa'n't mine, to begin with. I got him second hand. You see, he +come along just as I was havin' a slack spell. Mr. Gordon--yes, +Pyramid Gordon--he calls up on the 'phone and says he's in a hole. +Seems he's got a nephew that's comin' on from somewhere out West to +take a look at New York, and needs some one to keep him from fallin' +off Brooklyn Bridge. + +"How's he travellin'," says I; "tagged, in care of the conductor?" + +"Oh, no," says Mr. Gordon. "He's about twenty-two, and able to take +care of himself anywhere except in a city like this." Then he wants to +know how I'm fixed for time. + +"I got all there is on the clock," says I. + +"And would you be willing to try keeping Bentley out of mischief until +I get back?" says he. + +"Sure as ever," says I. "I don't s'pose he's any holy terror; is he?" + +Pyramid said he wa'n't quite so bad as that. He told me that Bentley'd +been brought up on a big cattle ranch out there, and that now he was +boss. + +"He's been making a lot of money recently, too," says Mr. Gordon, "and +he insists on a visit East. Probably he will want to let New York know +that he has arrived, but you hold him down." + +"Oh, I'll keep him from liftin' the lid, all right," says I. + +"That's the idea, Shorty," says he. "I'll write a note telling him all +about you, and giving him a few suggestions." + +I had a synopsis of Bentley's time card, so as soon's he'd had a chance +to open up his trunk and wash off some of the car dust I was waitin' at +the desk in the Waldorf. + +Now of course, bein' warned ahead, and hearin' about this cattle ranch +business, I was lookin' for a husky boy in a six inch soft-brim and +leather pants. I'd calculated on havin' to persuade him to take off +his spurs and leave his guns with the clerk. + +But what steps out of the elevator and answers to the name of Bentley +is a Willie boy that might have blown in from Asbury Park or Far +Rockaway. He was draped in a black and white checked suit that you +could broil a steak on, with the trousers turned up so's to show the +openwork silk socks, and the coat creased up the sides like it was made +over a cracker box. His shirt was a MacGregor plaid, and the band +around his Panama was a hand width Roman stripe. + +"Gee!" thinks I, "if that's the way cow boys dress nowadays, no wonder +there's scandals in the beef business!" + +But if you could forget his clothes long enough to size up what was in +'em, you could see that Bentley was a mild enough looker. There's lots +of bank messengers and brokers' clerks just like him comin' over from +Brooklyn and Jersey every mornin'. He was about five feet eight, and +skimpy built, and he had one of these recedin' faces that looked like +it was tryin' to get away from his nose. + +But then, it ain't always the handsome boys that behaves the best, and +the more I got acquainted with Bentley, the better I thought of him. +He said he was mighty glad I showed up instead of Mr. Gordon. + +"Uncle Henry makes me weary," says he. "I've just been reading a +letter from him, four pages, and most of it was telling me what not to +do. And this the first time I was ever in New York since I've been old +enough to remember!" + +"You'd kind of planned to see things, eh?" says I. + +"Why, yes," says Bentley. "There isn't much excitement out on the +ranch, you know. Of course, we ride into Palopinto once or twice a +month, and sometimes take a run up to Dallas; but that's not like +getting to New York." + +"No," says I. "I guess you're able to tell the difference between this +burg and them places you mention, without lookin' twice. What is +Dallas, a water tank stop?" + +"It's a little bigger'n that," says he, kind of smilin'. + +But he was a nice, quiet actin' youth; didn't talk loud, nor go through +any tough motions. I see right off that I'd been handed the wrong set +of specifications, and I didn't lose any time framin' him up accordin' +to new lines. I knew his kind like a book. You could turn him loose +in New York for a week, and the most desperate thing he'd find to do +would be smokin' cigarettes on the back seat of a rubberneck waggon. +And yet he'd come all the way from the jumpin' off place to have a +little innocent fun. + +"Uncle Henry wrote me," says he, "that while I'm here I'd better take +in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and visit St. Patrick's Cathedral +and Grant's Tomb. But say, I'd like something a little livelier than +that, you know." + +He was so mild about it that I works up enough sympathy to last an S. +P. C. A. president a year. I could see just what he was achin' for. +It wa'n't a sight of oil paintin's or churches. He wanted to be able +to go back among the flannel shirts and tell the boys tales that would +make their eyes stick out. He was ambitious to go on a regular cut up, +but didn't know how, and wouldn't have had the nerve to tackle it alone +if he had known. + +Now, I ain't ever done any red light pilotin', and didn't have any +notion of beginnin' then, especially with a youngster as nice and green +as Bentley; but right there and then I did make up my mind that I'd +steer him up against somethin' more excitin' than a front view of Grace +Church at noon. It was comin' to him. + +"See here, Bentley," says I, "I've passed my word to kind of look after +you, and keep you from rippin' things up the back here in little old +New York; but seein' as this is your first whack at it, if you'll +promise to stop when I say 'Whoa!' and not let on about it afterwards +to your Uncle Henry, I'll just show you a few things that they don't +have out West," and I winks real mysterious. + +"Oh, will you?" says Bentley. "By ginger! I'm your man!" + +So we starts out lookin' for the menagerie. It was all I could do, +though, to keep my eyes off'm that trousseau of his. + +"They don't build clothes like them in Palopinto, do they?" says I. + +"Oh, no," says Bentley. "I stopped off in Chicago and got this outfit. +I told them I didn't care what it cost, but I wanted the latest." + +"I guess you got it," says I. "That's what I'd call a night edition, +base ball extra. You mustn't mind folks giraffin' at you. They always +do that to strangers." + +Bentley didn't mind. Fact is, there wa'n't much that did seem to faze +him a whole lot. He'd never rode in the subway before, of course, but +he went to readin' the soaps ads just as natural as if he lived in +Harlem. I expect that was what egged me on to try and get a rise out +of him. You see, when they come in from the rutabaga fields and the +wheat orchards, we want 'em to open their mouths and gawp. If they do, +we give 'em the laugh; but if they don't, we feel like they was +throwin' down the place. So I lays out to astonish Bentley. + +First I steers him across Mulberry Bend and into a Pell-st. chop suey +joint that wouldn't be runnin' at all if it wa'n't for the Sagadahoc +and Elmira folks the two dollar tourin' cars bring down. With all the +Chinks gabblin' around outside, though, and the funny, letterin' on the +bill of fare, I thought that would stun him some. He just looked +around casual, though, and laid into his suey and rice like it was a +plate of ham-and, not even askin' if he couldn't buy a pair of +chopsticks as a souvenir. + +"There's a bunch of desperate characters," says I, pointin' to a table +where a gang of Park Row compositors was blowin' themselves to a +platter of chow-ghi-sumen. + +"Yes?" says he. + +"There's Chuck Connors, and Mock Duck, and Bill the Brute, and One Eyed +Mike!" I whispers. + +"I'm glad I saw them," says Bentley. + +"We'll take a sneak before the murderin' begins," say I. "Maybe you'll +read about how many was killed, in the mornin' papers." + +"I'll look for it," says he. + +Say, it was discouragin'. We takes the L up to 23rd and goes across +and up the east side of Madison Square. + +"There," says I, pointin' out the Manhattan Club, that's about as +lively as the Subtreasury on a Sunday, "that's Canfield's place. We'd +go in and see 'em buck the tiger, only I got a tip that Bingham's goin' +to pull it to-night. That youngster in the straw hat just goin' in is +Reggie." + +"Well, well!" says Bentley. + +Oh, I sure did show Bentley a lot of sights that evenin', includin' a +wild tour through the Tenderloin--in a Broadway car. We winds up at a +roof garden, and, just to give Bentley an extra shiver, I asks the +waiter if we wa'n't sittin' somewhere near the table that Harry and +Evelyn had the night he was overcome by emotional insanity. + +"You're at the very one, sir," he says. Considerin' we was ten blocks +away, he was a knowin' waiter. + +"This identical table; hear that, Bentley?" says I. + +"You don't say!" says he. + +"Let's have a bracer," says I. "Ever drink a soda cocktail, Bentley?" + +He said he hadn't. + +"Then bring us two, real stiff ones," says I. You know how they're +made--a dash of bitters, a spoonful of bicarbonate, and a bottle of +club soda, all stirred up in a tall glass, almost as intoxicatin' as +buttermilk. + +"Don't make your head dizzy, does it?" says I. + +"A little," says Bentley; "but then, I'm not used to mixed drinks. We +take root beer generally, when we're out on a tear." + +"You cow boys must be a fierce lot when you're loose," says I. + +Bentley grinned, kind of reminiscent. "We do raise the Old Harry once +in awhile," says he. "The last time we went up to Dallas I drank three +different kinds of soda water, and we guyed a tamale peddler so that a +policeman had to speak to us." + +Say! what do you think of that? Wouldn't that freeze your blood? + +Once I got him started, Bentley told me a lot about life on the ranch; +how they had to milk and curry down four thousand steers every night; +and about their playin' checkers at the Y. M. C. A. branch evenin's, +and throwin' spit balls at each other durin' mornin' prayers. I'd +always thought these stage cow boys was all a pipe dream, but I never +got next to the real thing before. + +It was mighty interestin', the way he told it, too. They get prizes +for bein' polite to each other durin' work hours, and medals for +speakin' gentle to the cows. Bentley said he had four of them medals, +but he hadn't worn 'em East for fear folks would think he was proud. +That gave me a line on where he got his quiet ways from. It was the +trainin' he got on the ranch. He said it was grand, too, when a crowd +of the boys came ridin' home from town, sometimes as late as eleven +o'clock at night, to hear 'em singin' "Onward, Christian Soldier" and +tunes like that. + +"I expect you do have a few real tough citizens out that way, though," +says I. + +"Yes," said he, speakin' sad and regretful, "once in awhile. There was +one came up from Las Vegas last Spring, a low fellow that they called +Santa Fe Bill. He tried to start a penny ante game, but we discouraged +him." + +"Run him off the reservation, eh?" says I. + +"No," says Bentley, "we made him give up his ticket to our annual +Sunday school picnic. He was never the same after that." + +Well, say, I had it on the card to blow Bentley to a Welsh rabbit after +the show, at some place where he could get a squint at a bunch of our +night bloomin' summer girls, but I changed the program. I took him +away durin' intermission, in time to dodge the new dancer that Broadway +was tryin' hard to be shocked by, and after we'd had a plate of ice +cream in one of them celluloid papered all-nights, I led Bentley back +to the hotel and tipped a bell hop a quarter to tuck him in bed. + +Somehow, I didn't feel just right about the way I'd been stringin' +Bentley. I hadn't started out to do it, either; but he took things in +so easy, and was so willin' to stand for anything, that I couldn't keep +from it. And it did seem a shame that he must go back without any tall +yarns to spring. Honest, I was so twisted up in my mind, thinkin' +about Bentley, that I couldn't go to sleep, so I sat out on the front +steps of the boardin' house for a couple of hours, chewin' it all over. +I was just thinkin' of telephonin' to the hotel chaplain to call on +Bentley in the mornin', when me friend Barney, the rounds, comes along. + +"Say, Shorty," says he, "didn't I see you driftin' around town earlier +in the evenin' with a young sport in mornin' glory clothes?" + +"He was no sport," says I. "That was Bentley. He's a Y. M. C. A. lad +in disguise." + +"It's a grand disguise," says Barney. "Your quiet friend is sure +livin' up to them clothes." + +"You're kiddin'," says I. "It would take a live one to do credit to +that harness. When I left Bentley at half-past ten he was in the +elevator on his way up to bed." + +"I don't want to meet any that's more alive than your Bentley," says +he. "There must have been a hole in the roof. Anyway, he shows up on +my beat about eleven, picks out a swell cafe, butts into a party of +soubrettes, flashes a thousand dollar bill, and begins to buy wine for +everyone in sight. Inside of half an hour he has one of his new made +lady friends doin' a high kickin' act on the table, and when the +manager interferes Bentley licks two waiters to a standstill and does +up the house detective with a chair. Why, I has to get two of my men +to help me gather him in. You can find him restin' around to the +station house now." + +"Barney," says I, "you must be gettin' colour blind. That can't be +Bentley." + +"You go around and take a look at him," says he. + +Well, just to satisfy Barney, I did. And say, it was Bentley, all +right! He was some mussed, but calm and contented. + +"Bentley," says I, reprovin' like, "you're a bird, you are! How did it +happen? Did some one drug you?" + +"Guess that ice cream must have gone to my head," says he, grinnin'. + +"Come off!" says I. "I've had a report on you, and from what you've +got aboard you ought to be as full as a goat." + +He wa'n't, though. He was as sober as me, and that after absorbin' a +quart or so of French foam. + +"If I can fix it so's to get you out on bail," says I, "will you quit +this red paint business and be good?" + +"G'wan!" says he. "I'd rather stay here than go around with you any +more. You put me asleep, you do, and I can get all the sleep I want +without a guide. Chase yourself!" + +I was some sore on Bentley by that time; but I went to court the next +mornin', when he paid his fine and was turned adrift. I starts in with +some good advice, but Bentley shuts me off quick. + +"Cut it out!" says he. "New York may seem like a hot place to Rubes +like you; but you can take it from me that, for a pure joy producer, +Palopinto has got it burned to a blister. Why, there's more doing on +some of our back streets than you can show up on the whole length of +Broadway. No more for me! I'm goin' back where I can spend my money +and have my fun without bein' stopped and asked to settle before I've +hardly got started." + +He was dead in earnest, too. He'd got on a train headed West before I +comes out of my dream. Then I begins to see a light. It was a good +deal of a shock to me when it did come, but I has to own up that +Bentley was a ringer. All that talk about mornin' prayers and Sunday +school picnics was just dope, and while I was so busy dealin' out josh, +to him, he was handin' me the lemon. + +My mouth was still puckered and my teeth on edge, when Mr. Gordon gets +me on the 'phone and wants to know how about Bentley. + +"He's come and gone," says I. + +"So soon?" says he. "I hope New York wasn't too much for him." + +"Not at all," says I; "he was too much for New York. But while you was +givin' him instructions, why didn't you tell him to make a noise like a +hornet? It might have saved me from bein' stung." + +Texas, eh? Well, say, next time I sees a map of that State I'm goin' +to hunt up Palopinto and draw a ring around it with purple ink. + + + + +IV + +THE TORTONIS' STAR ACT + +What I was after was a souse in the Sound; but say, I never know just +what's goin' to happen to me when I gets to roamin' around Westchester +County! + +I'd started out from Primrose Park to hoof it over to a little beach a +ways down shore, when along comes Dominick with his blue dump cart. +Now, Dominick's a friend of mine, and for a foreigner he's the most +entertainin' cuss I ever met. I like talkin' with him. He can make +the English language sound more like a lullaby than most of your high +priced opera singers; and as for bein' cheerful, why, he's got a pair +of eyes like sunny days. + +Course, he wears rings in his ears, and likely a seven inch knife down +the back of his neck. He ain't perfumed with violets either, when you +get right close to; but the ash collectin' business don't call for +_peau d'Espagne_, does it? + +"Hallo!" says Dominick. "You lika ride?" + +Well, I can't say I'm stuck on bein' bounced around in an ash chariot; +but I knew Dominick meant well, so in I gets. We'd been joltin' along +for about four blocks, swappin' pigeon toed conversation, when there +shows up on the road behind us the fanciest rig I've seen outside of a +circus. In front, hitched up tandem, was a couple of black and white +patchwork ponies that looked like they'd broke out of a sportin' print. +Say, with their shiny hoofs and yeller harness, it almost made your +eyes ache to look at 'em. But the buggy was part of the picture, too. +It was the dizziest ever--just a couple of upholstered settees, +balanced back to back on a pair of rubber tired wheels, with the whole +shootin' match, cushions and all, a blazin' turkey red. + +On the nigh side was a coachman, with his bandy legs cased in white +pants and yeller topped boots; and on the other--well, say! you talk +about your polka dot symphonies! Them spots was as big as quarters, +and those in the parasol matched the ones in her dress. + +I'd been gawpin' at the outfit a couple of minutes before I could see +anything but the dots, and then all of a sudden I tumbles that it's +Sadie. She finds me about the same time, and jabs her sun shade into +the small of the driver's back, to make him pull up. I tells Dominick +to haul in, too, but his old skate is on his hind legs, with his ears +pointed front, wakin' up for the first time in five years, so I has to +drop out over the tail board. + +"Well, what do you think of the rig?" says Sadie. + +"I guess me and Dominick's old crow bait has about the same thoughts +along that line," says I. "Can you blame us?" + +"It is rather giddy, isn't it?" says she. + +"'Most gave me the blind staggers," says I. "You ought to distribute +smoked glasses along the route of procession. Did you buy it some dark +night, or was it made to order after somethin' you saw in a dream?" + +"The idea!" says Sadie. "This jaunting car is one I had sent over from +Paris, to help my ponies get a blue ribbon at the Hill'n'dale horse +show. And that's what it did, too." + +"Blue ribbon!" says I. "The judges must have been colour blind." + +"Oh, I don't know," says Sadie, stickin' her tongue out at me. "After +that I've a good notion to make you walk." + +"I don't know as I'd have nerve enough to ride in that, anyway," says +I. "Is it a funeral you're goin' to?" + +"Next thing to it," says she. "But come on, Shorty; get aboard and +I'll tell you all about it." + +So I steps up alongside the spotted silk, and the driver lets the +ponies loose. Say, it was like ridin' sideways in a roller coaster. + +Sadie said she was awful glad to see me just then. She had a job on +hand that she hated to do, and she needed some one to stand in her +corner and cheer her up while she tackled it. Seems she'd got rash a +few days before and made a promise to lug the Duke and Duchess of +Kildee over to call on the Wigghorns. Sadie'd been actin' as sort of +advance agent for Their Dukelets durin' their splurge over here, and +Mrs. Wigghorn had mesmerised her into makin' a date for a call. This +was the day. + +It would have gone through all right if some one hadn't put the Duke +wise to what he was up against. Maybe you know about the Wigghorns? +Course, they've got the goods, for about a dozen years ago old Wigghorn +choked a car patent out of some poor inventor, and his bank account's +been pyramidin' so fast ever since that now he's in the eight figure +class; but when it comes to bein' in the monkey dinner crowd, they +ain't even counted as near-silks. + +"Why," says Sadie, "I've heard that they have their champagne standing +in rows on the sideboard, and that they serve charlotte russe for +breakfast!" + +"That's an awful thing to repeat," says I. + +"Oh, well," says she, "Mrs. Wigghorn's a good natured soul, and I do +think the Duke might have stood her for an afternoon. He wouldn't +though, and now I've got to go there and call it off, just as she's got +herself into her diamond stomacher, probably, to receive them." + +"You couldn't ring in a couple of subs?" says I. For a minute Sadie's +blue eyes lights up like I'd passed her a plate of peach ice cream. +"If I only could!" says she. Then she shakes her head. "No," she +says, "I should hate to lie. And, anyway, there's no one within reach +who could play their parts." + +"That bein' the case," says I, "it looks like you'd have to go ahead +and break the sad news. What do you want me to do--hold a bucket for +the tears?" + +Sadie said all she expected of me was to help her forget it afterwards; +so we rolls along towards Wigghorn Arms. We'd got within a mile of +there when we meets a Greek peddler with a bunch of toy balloons on his +shoulder, and in less'n no time at all them crazy-quilt ponies was +tryin' to do back somersaults and other fool stunts. In the mix up one +of 'em rips a shoe almost off, and Mr. Coachman says he'll have to +chase back to a blacksmith shop and have it glued on. + +"Oh, bother!" says Sadie. "Well, hurry up about it. We'll walk along +as far as Apawattuck Inn and wait there." + +It wa'n't much of a walk. The Apawattuck's a place where they deal out +imitation shore dinners to trolley excursionists, and fusel oil high +balls to the bubble trade. The name sounds well enough, but that ain't +satisfyin' when you're real hungry. We were only killin' time, though, +so it didn't matter. We strolled up just as fearless as though their +clam chowders was fit to eat. + +And that's what fetched us up against the Tortonis. They was well +placed, at a corner veranda table where no one could miss seein' 'em; +and, as they'd just finished a plate of chicken salad and a pint of +genuine San Jose claret, they was lookin' real comfortable and elegant. + +Say, to see the droop eyed way they sized us up as we makes our entry, +you'd think they was so tired doin' that sort of thing that life was +hardly worth while. You'd never guess they'd been livin' in a hall bed +room on crackers and bologna ever since the season closed, and that +this was their first real feed of the summer, on the strength of just +havin' been booked for fifty performances. He was wearin' one of them +torrid suits you see in Max Blumstein's show window, with a rainbow +band on his straw pancake, and one of these flannel collar shirts that +you button under the chin with a brass safety pin. She was sportin' a +Peter Pan peekaboo that would have made Comstock gasp. And neither of +'em had seen a pay day for the last two months. + +But it was done good, though. They had the tray jugglers standin' +around respectful, and the other guests wonderin' how two such real +House of Mirthers should happen to stray in where the best dishes on +the card wa'n't more'n sixty cents a double portion. + +Course, I ain't never been real chummy with Tortoni--his boardin' house +name's Skinny Welch, you know--but I've seen him knockin' around the +Rialto off'n on for years; so, as I goes by to the next table, I lifts +my lid and says, "Hello, Skin. How goes it?" Say, wa'n't that +friendly enough? But what kind of a come back do I get? He just humps +his eyebrows, as much as to say, "How bold some of these common folks +is gettin' to be!" and then turns the other way. Sadie and I look at +each other and swap grins. + +"What happened?" says she. + +"I had a fifteen cent lump of Hygeia passed to me," says I. "And with +the ice trust still on top, I calls it extravagant." + +"Who are the personages?" says she. + +"Well, the last reports I had of 'em," says I, "they were the Tortonis, +waitin' to do a parlour sketch on the bargain day matinee circuit; but +from the looks now I guesses they're travellin' incog--for the +afternoon, anyway." + +"How lovely!" says Sadie. + +Our seltzer lemonades come along just then, so there was business with +the straws. I'd just fished out the last piece of pineapple when Jeems +shows up on the drive with the spotted ponies and that side saddle +cart. I gave Sadie the nudge to look at the Tortonis. They had their +eyes glued to that outfit, like a couple of Hester-st. kids lookin' at +a hoky poky waggon. + +And it wa'n't no common "Oh, I wish I could swipe that" look, either. +It was a heap deeper'n that. The whole get up, from the red wheels to +the silver rosettes, must have hit 'em hard, for they held their breath +most a minute, and never moved. The girl was the first to break away. +She turns her face out towards the Sound and sighs. Say, it must be +tough to have ambitions like that, and never get nearer to 'em than now +and then a ten block hansom ride. + +About then Jeems catches Sadie's eye, and salutes with the whip. + +"Did you get it fixed?" says she. + +He says it's all done like new. + +Signor Tortoni hadn't been losin' a look nor a word, and the minute he +ties us up to them speckled ponies he maps out a change of act. Before +I could call the waiter and get my change, Tortoni was right on the +ground. + +"I beg pardon," says he, "but isn't this my old friend, Professor +McCabe?" + +"You've sure got a comin' memory, Skinny," says I. + +"Why!" says he, gettin' a grip on my paw, "how stupid of me! Really, +professor, you've grown so distinguished looking that I didn't place +you at all. Why, this is a great pleasure, a very great pleasure, +indeed!" + +"Ye-e-es?" says I. + +But say, I couldn't rub it in. He was so dead anxious to connect +himself with that red cart before the crowd that I just let him spiel +away. Inside of two minutes the honours had been done all around, and +Sadie was bein' as nice to the girl as she knew how. And Sadie knows, +though! She'd heard that sigh, Sadie had; and it didn't jar me a bit +when she gives them the invite to take a little drive down the road +with us. + +Well, it was worth the money, just to watch Skinny judgin' up the house +out of the corner of his eye. I'll bet there wa'n't one in the +audience that he didn't know just how much of it they was takin' in; +and by the easy way he leaned across the seat back and chinned to +Sadie, as we got started, you'd thought he'd been brought up in one of +them carts. The madam wa'n't any in the rear, either. She was just as +much to home as if she'd been usin' up a green transfer across 34th. +If the style was new to her, or the motion gave her a tingly feelin' +down her back, she never mentioned it. + +They did lose their breath a few, though, when we struck Wigghorn Arms. +It's a whackin' big place, all fenced in with fancy iron work and +curlicue gates fourteen feet high. + +"I've just got to run in a minute and say a word to Mrs. Wigghorn," +says Sadie. "I hope you don't mind waiting?" + +Oh no, they didn't. They said so in chorus, and as we looped the loop +through the shrubbery and began to get glimpses of window awnings and +tiled roof, I could tell by the way they acted that they'd just as soon +wait inside as not. + +Mrs. Wigghorn wasn't takin' any chances on havin' Their Dukelets drive +up, leave their cards, and skidoo. She was right out front holdin' +down a big porch rocker, with her eyes peeled up the drive. And she +was costumed for the part. I don't know just what it was she had on, +but I've seen plush parlour suits covered with stuff like that. She's +a sizable old girl anyway, but in that rig, and with her store hair +puffed out, she loomed up like a bale of hay in a door. + +"Why, how do you do!" she squeals, makin' a swoop at Sadie as soon as +the wheels stopped turnin'. "And you did bring them along, didn't you? +Now don't say a word until I get Peter--he's just gone in to brush the +cigar ashes off his vest. We want to be presented to the Duke and +Duchess together, you know. Peter! Pe-ter!" she shouts, and in +through the front door she waddles, yellin' for the old man. + +And say, just by the look Sadie gave me I knew what was runnin' through +her head. + +"Shorty," says she, "I've a mind to do it." + +"Flag it," says. "You ain't got time." + +But there was no stoppin' her. "Listen," says she to the Tortonis. +"Can't you play Duke and Duchess of Kildee for an hour or so?" + +"What are the lines?" says Skinny. + +"You've got to improvise as you go along," says she. "Can you do it?" + +"It's a pipe for me," says he. "Flossy, do you come in on it?" + +Did she? Why, Flossy was diggin' up her English accent while he was +askin' the question, and by the time Mrs. Wigghorn got back, draggin' +Peter by the lapel of his dress coat, the Tortonis was fairly oozin' +aristocracy. It was "Chawmed, don'tcher know!" and "My word!" right +along from the drop of the hat. + +I didn't follow 'em inside, and was just as glad I didn't have to. +Sittin' out there, expectin' to hear the lid blow off, made me nervous +enough. I wasn't afraid either of 'em would go shy on front; but when +I remembered Flossy's pencilled eyebrows, and Skinny's flannel collar, +I says to myself, "That'll queer 'em as soon as they get in a good +light and there's time for the details to soak in." And I didn't know +what kind of trouble the Wigghorns might stir up for Sadie, when they +found out how bad they'd been toasted. + +It was half an hour before Sadie showed up again, and she was lookin' +merry. + +"What have they done with 'em," says I--"dropped 'em down the well?" + +Sadie snickered as she climbed in and told Jeems to whip up the team. +"Mr. and Mrs. Wigghorn," says she, "have persuaded the Duke and Duchess +to spend the week's end at Wigghorn Arms." + +"Gee!" says I. "Can they run the bluff that long?" + +"It's running itself," says Sadie. "The Wigghorns are so overcome with +the honour that they hardly know whether they're afoot or horseback; +and as for your friends, they're more British than the real articles +ever thought of being. I stayed until they'd looked through the suite +of rooms they're to occupy, and when I left they were being towed out +to the garage to pick out a touring car that suited them. They seemed +already to be bored to death, too." + +"Good!" say I. "Now maybe you'll take me over to the beach and let me +get in a quarter's worth of swim." + +"Can't you put it off, Shorty?" says she. "I want you to take the next +train into town and do an errand for me. Go to the landlady at this +number, East 15th-st., and tell her to send Mr. Tortoni's trunk by +express." + +Well, I did it. It took a ten to make the landlady loosen up on the +wardrobe, too; but considerin' the solid joy I've had, thinkin' about +Skinny and Flossy eatin' charlotte russe for breakfast, and all that, I +guess I'm gettin' a lot for my money. It ain't every day you have a +chance to elevate a vaudeville team to the peerage. + + + + +V + +PUTTING PINCKNEY ON THE JOB + +Well, say, this is where we mark up one on Pinckney. And it's time +too, for he's done the grin act at me so often he was comin' to think I +was gettin' into the Slivers class. You know about Pinckney. He's the +bubble on top of the glass, the snapper on the whip lash, the sunny +spot at the club. He's about as serious as a kitten playin' with a +string, and the cares on his mind weigh 'most as heavy as an extra +rooster feather on a spring bonnet. + +That's what comes of havin' a self raisin' income, a small list of +relatives, and a moderate thirst. If anything bobs up that needs to be +worried over--like whether he's got vests enough to last through a +little trip to London and back, or whether he's doubled up on his +dates--why, he just tells his man about it, and then forgets. For a +trouble dodger he's got the little birds in the trees carryin' weight. +Pinckney's liable to show up at the Studio here every day for a week, +and then again I won't get a glimpse of him for a month. It's always +safe to expect him when you see him, and it's a waste of time wonderin' +what he'll be up to next. But one of the things I likes most about +Pinckney is that he ain't livin' yesterday or to-morrow. It's always +this A. M. with him, and the rest of the calendar takes care of itself. + +So I wa'n't any surprised, as I was doin' a few laps on the avenue +awhile back, to hear him give me the hail. + +"Oh, I say, Shorty!" says he, wavin' his stick. + +"Got anything on?" + +"Nothin' but my clothes," says I. + +"Good!" says he. "Come with me, then." + +"Sure you know where you're goin'?" says I. + +Oh, yes, he was--almost. It was some pier or other he was headed for, +and he has the number wrote down on a card--if he could find the card. +By luck he digs it up out of his cigarette case, where his man has put +it on purpose, and then he proceeds to whistle up a cab. Say, if it +wa'n't for them cabbies, I reckon Pinckney would take root somewhere. + +"Meetin' some one, or seein' 'em off?" says I, as we climbs in. + +"Hanged if I know yet," says Pinckney. + +"Maybe it's you that's goin'?" says I. + +"Oh, no," says he. "That is, I hadn't planned to, you know. And come +to think of it, I believe I am to meet--er--Jack and Jill." + +"Names sound kind of familiar," says I. "What's the breed?" + +"What would be your guess?" says he. + +"A pair of spotted ponies," says I. + +"By Jove!" says he, "I hadn't thought of ponies." + +"Say," says I, sizin' him up to see if he was handin' me a josh, "you +don't mean to give out that you're lookin' for a brace of something to +come in on the steamer, and don't know whether they'll be tame or wild, +long haired or short, crated or live stock?" + +"Live stock!" says he, beamin'. "That's exactly the word I have been +trying to think of. That's what I shall ask for. Thanks, awfully, +Shorty, for the hint." + +"You're welcome," says I. "It looks like you need all the help along +that line you can get. Do you remember if this pair was somethin' you +sent for, or is it a birthday surprise?" + +With that he unloads as much of the tale as he's accumulated up to +date. Seems he'd just got a cablegram from some firm in London that +signs themselves Tootle, Tupper & Tootle, sayin' that Jack and Jill +would be on the _Lucania_, as per letter. + +"And then you lost the letter?" says I. + +No, he hadn't lost it, not that he knew of. He supposes that it's with +the rest of last week's mail, that he hasn't looked over yet. The +trouble was he'd been out of town, and hadn't been back more'n a day or +so--and he could read letters when there wa'n't anything else to do. +That's Pinckney, from the ground up. + +"Why not go back and get the letter now?" says I. "Then you'll know +all about Jack and Jill." + +"Oh, bother!" says he. "That would spoil all the fun. Let's see what +they're like first, and read about them afterwards." + +"If it suits you," says I, "it's all the same to me. Only you won't +know whether to send for a hostler or an animal trainer." + +"Perhaps I'd better engage both," says Pinckney. If they'd been handy, +he would have, too; but they wa'n't, so down we sails to the pier, +where the folks was comin' ashore. + +First thing Pinckney spies after we has rushed the gangplank is a gent +with a healthy growth of underbrush on his face and a lot of gold on +his sleeves. By the way they got together, I see that they was old +friends. + +"I hear you have something on board consigned to me, Captain?" says +Pinckney. "Something in the way of live stock, eh?" and he pokes Cap +in the ribs with his cane. + +"Right you are," says Cappie, chucklin' through his whiskers. "And the +liveliest kind of live stock we ever carried, sir." + +Pinckney gives me the nudge, as much as to say he'd struck it first +crack, and then he remarks, "Ah! And where are they now?" + +"Why," says the Cap, "they were cruising around the promenade deck a +minute ago; but, Lor' bless you, sir! there's no telling where they are +now--up on the bridge, or down in the boiler room. They're a pair of +colts, those two." + +"Colts!" says Pinckney, gaspin'. "You mean ponies, don't you?" + +"Well, well, ponies or colts, it's all one. They're lively enough for +either, and--Heigho! Here they come, the rascals!" + +There's whoop and a scamper, and along the deck rushes a couple of six- +or seven-year old youngsters, that makes a dive for the Cap'n, catches +him around either leg, and almost upsets him. They was twins, and it +didn't need the kilt suits just alike and the hair boxed just the same +to show it, either. They couldn't have been better matched if they'd +been a pair of socks, and the faces of 'em was all grins and mischief. +Say, anyone with a heart in him couldn't help takin' to kids like that, +providin' they didn't take to him first. + +"Here you are, sir," says the Cap'n,--"here's your Jack and Jill, and I +wish you luck with them. It'll be a good month before I can get back +discipline aboard; but I'm glad I had the bringing of 'em over. Here +you are, you holy terrors,--here's the Uncle Pinckney you've been +howling for!" + +At that they let loose of the Cap, gives a war-whoop in chorus, and +lands on Pinckney with a reg'lar flyin' tackle, both talkin' to once. +Well say, he didn't know whether to holler for help or laugh. He just +stands there and looks foolish, while one of 'em shins up and gets an +overhand holt on his lilac necktie. + +About then I notices some one bearin' down on us from the other side of +the deck. She was one of these tall, straight, deep chested, wide eyed +girls, built like the Goddess of Liberty, and with cheeks like a bunch +of sweet peas. Say, she was all right, she was; and if it hadn't been +for the Paris clothes she was wearin' home I could have made a guess +whether she come from Denver, or Dallas, or St. Paul. Anyway, we don't +raise many of that kind in New York. She has her eyes on the +youngsters. + +"Good-bye, Jack and Jill," says she, wavin' her hand at 'em. + +But nobody gets past them kids as easy as that. They yells "Miss +Gertrude!" at her like she was a mile off, and points to Pinckney, and +inside of a minute they has towed 'em together, pushed 'em up against +the rail, and is makin' 'em acquainted at the rate of a mile a minute. + +"Pleased, I'm sure," says Miss Gerty. "Jack and Jill are great friends +of mine. I suppose you are their Uncle Pinckney." + +"I'm almost beginning to believe I am," says Pinckney. + +"Why," says she, "aren't you----" + +"Oh, that's my name," says he. "Only I didn't know that I was an +uncle. Doubtless it's all right, though. I'll look it up." + +With that she eyes him like she thought he was just out of the nut +factory, and the more Pinckney tries to explain, the worse he gets +twisted. Finally he turns to the twins. "See here, youngsters," says +he, "which one of you is Jack?" + +"Me," says one of 'em. "I'se Jack." + +"Well, Jack," says Pinckney, "what is your last name?" + +"Anstruther," says the kid. + +"The devil!" says Pinckney, before he could stop it. Then he begs +pardon all around. "I see," says he. "I had almost forgotten about +Jack Anstruther, though I shouldn't. So Jack is your papa, is he? And +where is Jack now?" + +Some one must have trained them to do it, for they gets their heads +together, like they was goin' to sing a hymn, rolls up their eyes, and +pipes out, "Our--papa--is--up--there." + +"The deuce you say! I wouldn't have thought it!" gasps Pinckney. "No, +no! I--I mean I hadn't heard of it." + +It was a bad break, though; but the girl sees how cut up he is about +it, and smooths everything out with a laugh. + +"I fancy Jack and Jill know very little of such things," says she; "but +they can tell you all about Marie." + +"Marie's gone!" shouts the kids. "She says we drove her crazy." + +That was the way the story come out, steady by jerks. The meat of it +was that one of Pinckney's old chums had passed in somewhere abroad, +and for some reason or other these twins of his had been shipped over +to Pinckney in care of a French governess. Between not knowing how to +herd a pair of lively ones like Jack and Jill, and her gettin' +interested in a tall gent with a lovely black moustache, Marie had kind +of shifted her job off onto the rest of the passengers, specially +Gerty, and the minute the steamer touched the dock she had rolled her +hoop. + +"Pinckney," says I, "it's you to the bat." + +He looks at the twins doubtful, then he squints at me, and next he +looks at Miss Gertrude. "By Jove!" says he. "It appears that way, +doesn't it? I wonder how long I am expected to keep them?" + +The twins didn't know; I didn't; and neither does Gerty. + +"I had planned to take a noon train west," says she; "but if you think +I could help in getting Jack and Jill ashore, I'll stay over for a few +hours." + +"Will you?" says he. "That's ripping good of you. Really, you know, I +never took care of twins before." + +"How odd!" says she, tearin' off a little laugh that sounds as if it +come out of a music box. "I suppose you will take them home?" + +"Home!" says Pinckney. Say, you'd thought he never heard the word +before. "Why--ah--er--I live at the club, you know." + +"Oh," says she. + +"Would a hotel do?" says Pinckney. + +"You might try it," says she, throwin' me a look that was all twinkles. + +Then we rounds up the kids' traps, sees to their baggage, and calls +another cab. Pinckney and the girl takes Jill, I loads Jack in with +me, and off we starts. It was a great ride. Ever try to answer all +the questions a kid of that age can think up? Say, I was three behind +and short of breath before we'd gone ten blocks. + +"Is all this America?" says Mr. Jack, pointin' up Broadway. + +"No, sonny," says I; "this is little old New York." + +"Where's America, then?" says he. + +"Around the edges," says I. + +"I'm goin' to be president some day," says he. "Are you?" + +"Not till Teddy lets go, anyway," says I. + +"Who's Teddy?" says he. + +"The man behind the stick," says I. + +"I wish I had a stick," says Jack; "then I could whip the hossie. I +wish I had suffin' to eat, too." + +"I'd give a dollar if you had," says I. + +It seems that Jill has been struck with the same idea, for pretty soon +we comes together, and Pinckney shouts that we're all goin' to have +lunch. Now, there's a lot of eatin' shops in this town; but I'll bet +Pinckney couldn't name more'n four, to save his neck, and the +Fifth-ave. joint he picks out was the one he's most used to. + +It ain't what you'd call a fam'ly place. Mostly the people who hang +out there belong to the Spender clan. It's where the thousand-dollar +tenors, and the ex-steel presidents, and the pick of the pony ballet +come for broiled birds and bottled bubbles. But that don't bother +Pinckney a bit; so we blazes right in, kids and all. The head waiter +most has a fit when he spots Pinckney towin' a twin with each hand; but +he plants us at a round table in the middle of the room, turns on the +electric light under the seashell shades, and passes out the food +programs. I looks over the card; but as there wa'n't anything entered +that I'd ever met before, I passes. Gerty, she takes a look around, +and smiles. But the twins wa'n't a bit fazed. + +"What will it be, youngsters?" says Pinckney. + +"Jam," says they. + +"Jam it is," says Pinckney, and orders a couple of jars. + +"Don't you think they ought to have something besides sweets?" says +Miss Gerty. + +"Blessed if I know," says Pinckney, and he puts it up to the kids if +there wa'n't anything else they'd like. + +"Yep!" says they eagerly. "Pickles." + +That's what they had too, jam and pickles, with a little bread on the +side. Then, while we was finishin' off the grilled bones, or whatever +it was Pinckney had guessed at, they slides out of their chairs and +organises a game of tag. I've heard of a lot of queer doin's bein' +pulled off in that partic'lar caffy, but I'll bet this was the first +game of cross tag ever let loose there. It was a lively one, for the +tables was most all filled, and the tray jugglers was skatin' around +thick. That only made it all the more interestin' for the kids. +Divin' between the legs of garcons loaded down with silver and china +dishes was the best sport they'd struck in a month, and they just +whooped it up. + +[Illustration: THE TWINS ORGANIZE A GAME OF TAG] + +I could see the head waiter, standin' on tiptoes, watchin' 'em and +holdin' his breath. Pinckney was beginnin' to look worried too, but +Gerty was settin' there, as calm and smilin' as if they was playin' in +a vacant lot. It was easy to see she wa'n't one of the worryin' kind. + +"I wonder if I shouldn't stop them?" says Pinckney. + +Before he's hardly got it out, there comes a bang and a smash, and a +fat French waiter goes down with umpteen dollars' worth of fancy grub +and dishes. + +"Perhaps you'd better," says Gerty. + +"Yes," says I, "some of them careless waiters might fall on one of 'em." + +With that Pinckney starts after 'em, tall hat, cane, and all. The kids +see him, and take it that he's joined the game. + +"Oh, here's Uncle Pinckney!" they shouts. "You're it, Uncle Pinckney!" +and off they goes. + +That sets everybody roarin'--except Pinckney. He turns a nice shade of +red, and gives it up. I guess they'd put the place all to the bad, if +Miss Gerty hadn't stood up smilin' and held her hands out to them. +They come to her like she'd pulled a string, and in a minute it was all +over. + +"Pinckney," says I, "you want to rehearse this uncle act some before +you spring it on the public again." + +"I wish I could get at that letter and find out how long this is going +to last," says he, sighin' and moppin' his noble brow. + +But if Pinckney was shy on time for letter readin' before, he had less +of it now. The three of us put in the afternoon lookin' after that +pair of kids, and we was all busy at that. Twice Miss Gerty started to +break away and go for a train; but both times Pinckney sent me to call +her back. Soon's she got on the scene everything was lovely. + +Pinckney had picked out a suite of rooms at the Waldorf, and he thought +as soon as he could get hold of a governess and a maid his troubles +would be over. But it wa'n't so easy to pick up a pair of twin +trainers. Three or four sets shows up; but when they starts to ask +questions about who the twins belongs to, and who Pinckney was, and +where Miss Gerty comes in, and what was I doin' there they gets a touch +of pneumonia in the feet. + +"I ain't casting any insinuations," says one; "but I never have been +mixed up in a kidnapping case before, and I guess I won't begin now." + +"The sassy thing!" says I, as she bangs the door. + +Pinckney looks stunned; but Miss Gerty only laughs. + +"Perhaps you'd better let me go out and find some one," says she. "And +maybe I'll stay over for a day." + +While she was gone Pinckney gets me to take a note up to his man, +tellin' him to overhaul the mail and send all the London letters down. +That took me less'n an hour, but when I gets back to the hotel I finds +Pinckney with furrows in his brow, tryin' to make things right with the +manager. He'd only left the twins locked up in the rooms for ten +minutes or so, while he goes down for some cigarettes and the afternoon +papers; but before he gets back they've rung up everything, from the +hall maids to the fire department, run the bath tub over, and rigged +the patent fire escapes out of the window. + +"Was it you that was tellin' about not wantin' to miss any fun?" says I. + +"Don't rub it in, Shorty," says he. "Did you get that blamed Tootle +letter?" + +He grabs it eager. "Now," says he, "we'll see who these youngsters are +to be handed over to, and when." + +The twins had got me harnessed up to a chair, and we was havin' an +elegant time, when Pinckney gives a groan and hollers for me to come in +and shut the door. + +"Shorty," says he, "what do you think? There isn't anyone else. I've +got to keep them." + +Then he reads me the letter, which is from some English lawyers, sayin' +that the late Mr. Anstruther, havin' no relations, has asked that his +two children, Jack and Jill, should be sent over to his old and dear +friend, Mr. Lionel Ogden Pinckney Bruce, with the request that he act +as their guardian until they should come of age. The letter also says +that there's a wad of money in the bank for expenses. + +"And the deuce of it is, I can't refuse," says Pinckney. "Jack once +did me a good turn that I can never forget." + +"Well, this makes twice, then," says I. "But cheer up. For a +bachelor, you're doin' well, ain't you? Now all you need is an account +at the grocer's, and you're almost as good as a fam'ly man." + +"But," says he, "I know nothing about bringing up children." + +"Oh, you'll learn," says I. "You'll be manager of an orphan asylum +yet." + +It wa'n't until Miss Gerty shows up with a broad faced Swedish nurse +that Pinckney gets his courage back. Gerty tells him he can take the +night off, as she'll be on the job until mornin'; and Pinckney says the +thoughts of goin' back to the club never seemed quite so good to him as +then. + +"So long," says I; "but don't forget that you're an uncle." + +I has a picture of Pinckney takin' them twins by the hand, about the +second day, and headin' for some boardin' school or private home. I +couldn't help thinkin' about what a shame it was goin' to be too, for +they sure was a cute pair of youngsters--too cute to be farmed out +reckless. + +Course, though, I couldn't see Pinckney doin' anything else. Even if +he was married to one of them lady nectarines in the crowd he travels +with, and had a kid of his own, I guess it would be a case of mama and +papa havin' to be introduced to little Gwendolyn every once in awhile +by the head of the nursery department. + +Oh, I has a real good time for a few days, stewin' over them kids, and +wonderin' how they and Pinckney was comin' on. And then yesterday I +runs across the whole bunch, Miss Gerty and all, paradin' down the +avenue bound for a candy shop, the whole four of 'em as smilin' as if +they was startin' on a picnic. + +"Chee, Pinckney!" says I, "you look like you was pleased with the +amateur uncle business." + +"Why not?" says he. "You ought to see how glad those youngsters are to +see me when I come in. And we have great sport." + +"Hotel people still friendly?" says I. + +"Why," says he, "I believe there have been a few complaints. But we'll +soon be out of that. I've leased a country house for the summer, you +know." + +"A house!" says I. "You with a house! Who'll run it?" + +"S-s-s-sh!" says he, pullin' me one side and talkin' into my ear. "I'm +going West to-night, to bring on her mother, and----" + +"Oh, I see," says I. "You're goin' to offer Gerty the job?" + +Pinckney gets a colour on his cheek bones at that. "She's a charming +girl, Shorty," says he. + +"She's nothin' less," says I; "and them twins are all right too. But +say, Pinckney, I'll bet you never meet a steamer again without knowin' +all about why you're there. Eh?" + + + + +VI + +THE SOARING OF THE SAGAWAS + +Well, I've been doin' a little more circulatin' among the fat-wads. +It's gettin' to be a reg'lar fad with me. And say, I used to think +they was a simple lot; but I don't know as they're much worse than some +others that ain't got so good an excuse. + +I was sittin' on my front porch, at Primrose Park, when in rolls that +big bubble of Sadie's, with her behind the plate glass and rubber. + +"But I thought you was figurin' in that big house party out to Breeze +Acres," says I, "where they've got a duchess on exhibition?" + +"It's the duchess I'm running away from," says Sadie. + +"You ain't gettin' stage fright this late in the game, are you?" says I. + +"Hardly," says she. "I'm bored, though. The duchess is a frost. She +talks of nothing but her girls' charity school and her complexion +baths. Thirty of us have been shut up with her for three days now, and +we know her by heart. Pinckney asked me to drop around and see if I +could find you. He says he's played billiards and poker until he's +lost all the friends he ever had, and that if he doesn't get some +exercise soon he'll die of indigestion. Will you let me take you over +for the night?" + +Well, I've monkeyed with them swell house parties before, and generally +I've dug up trouble at 'em; but for the sake of Pinckney's health I +said I'd take another chance; so in I climbs, and we goes zippin' off +through the mud. Sadie hadn't told me more'n half the cat-scraps the +women had pulled off durin' them rainy days before we was 'most there. + +Just as we slowed up to turn into the private road that leads up to +Breeze Acres, one of them dinky little one-lunger benzine buggies comes +along, missin' forty explosions to the minute and coughin' itself to +death on a grade you could hardly see. All of a sudden somethin' goes +off. Bang! and the feller that was jugglin' the steerin' bar throws up +both hands like he'd been shot with a ripe tomato. + +"Caramba!" says he. "Likewise gadzooks!" as the antique quits movin' +altogether. + +I'd have known that lemon-coloured pair of lip whiskers anywhere. +Leonidas Dodge has the only ones in captivity. I steps out of the +show-case in time to see mister man lift off the front lid and shove +his head into the works. + +"Is the post mortem on?" says I. + +"By the beard of the prophet!" says he, swingin' around, "Shorty +McCabe!" + +"Much obliged to meet you," says I, givin' him the grip. "The +Electro-Polisho business must be boomin'," says I, "when you carry it +around in a gasoline coach. But go on with your autopsy. Is it +locomotor ataxia that ails the thing, or cirrhosis of the sparkin' +plug?" + +"It's nearer senile dementia," says he. "Gaze on that piece of +mechanism, Shorty. There isn't another like it in the country." + +"I can believe that," says I. + +For an auto it was the punkiest ever. No two of the wheels was mates +or the same size; the tires was bandaged like so many sore throats; the +front dasher was wabbly; one of the side lamps was a tin stable +lantern; and the seat was held on by a couple of cleats knocked off the +end of a packing box. + +"Looks like it had seen some first-aid repairin'," says I. + +"Some!" says Leonidas. "Why, I've nailed this relic together at least +twice a week for the last two months. I've used waggon bolts, nuts +borrowed from wayside pumps, pieces of telephone wire, and horseshoe +nails. Once I ran twenty miles with the sprocket chain tied up with +twine. And yet they say that the age of miracles has passed! It would +need a whole machine shop to get her going again," says he. "I'll +await until my waggons come up, and then we'll get out the tow rope." + +"Waggons!" says I. "You ain't travellin' with a retinue, are you?" + +"That's the exact word for it," says he. And then Leonidas tells me +about the Sagawa aggregation. Ever see one of these medicine shows? +Well, that's what Leonidas had. He was sole proprietor and managing +boss of the outfit. + +"We carry eleven people, including drivers and canvas men," says he, +"and we give a performance that the Proctor houses would charge +seventy-five a head for. It's all for a dime, too--quarter for +reserved--and our gentlemanly ushers offer the Sagawa for sale only +between turns." + +"You talk like a three-sheet poster," says I. "Where you headed for +now?" + +"We're making a hundred-mile jump up into the mill towns," says he, +"and before we've worked up as far as Providence I expect we'll have to +carry the receipts in kegs." + +That was Leonidas, all over; seein' rainbows when other folks would be +predictin' a Johnstown flood. Just about then, though, the bottom +began to drop out of another cloud, so I lugged him over to the big +bubble and put him inside. + +"Sadie," says I, "I want you to know an old side pardner of mine. His +name's Leonidas Dodge, or used to be, and there's nothing yellow about +him but his hair." + +And say, Sadie hadn't more'n heard about the Sagawa outfit than she +begins to smile all over her face; so I guesses right off that she's +got tangled up with some fool idea. + +"It would be such a change from the duchess if we could get Mr. Dodge +to stop over at Breeze Acres to-night and give his show," says Sadie. + +"Madam," says Leonidas, "your wishes are my commands." + +Sadie kept on grinnin' and plannin' out the program, while Leonidas +passed out his high English as smooth as a demonstrator at a food show. +Inside of ten minutes they has it all fixed. Then Sadie skips into the +little gate cottage, where the timekeeper lives, and calls up Pinckney +on the house 'phone. And say! what them two can't think of in the way +of fool stunts no one else can. + +By the time she'd got through, the Sagawa aggregation looms up on the +road. There was two four-horse waggons. The front one had a tarpaulin +top, and under cover was a bunch of the saddest lookin' actorines and +specialty people you'd want to see. They didn't have life enough to +look out when the driver pulled up. The second waggon carried the +round top and poles. + +"Your folks look as gay as a gang startin' off to do time on the +island," says I. + +"They're not as cheerful as they might be, that's a fact," says +Leonidas. + +It didn't take him long to put life into 'em, though. When he'd give +off a few brisk orders they chirked up amazin'. They shed their rain +coats for spangled jackets, hung out a lot of banners, and uncased a +lot of pawnshop trombones and bass horns and such things. "All up for +the grand street parade!" sings out Leonidas. + +For an off-hand attempt, it wa'n't so slow. First comes Pinckney, +ridin' a long-legged huntin' horse and keepin' the rain off his red +coat with an umbrella. Then me and Sadie in her bubble, towin' the +busted one-lunger behind. Leonidas was standin' up on the seat, +wearin' his silk hat and handlin' a megaphone. Next came the band +waggon, everybody armed with some kind of musical weapon, and tearin' +the soul out of "The Merry Widow" waltz, in his own particular way. +The pole waggon brings up the rear. + +Pinckney must have spread the news well, for the whole crowd was out on +the front veranda to see us go past. And say, when Leonidas sizes up +the kind of folks that was givin' him the glad hand, he drops the +imitation society talk that he likes to spout, and switches to straight +Manhattanese. + +"Well, well, well! Here we are!" he yells through the megaphone. "The +only original Sagawa show on the road, remember! Come early, gents, +and bring your lady friends. The doors of the big tent will open at +eight o'clock--eight o'clock--and at eight-fifteen Mlle. Peroxide, the +near queen of comedy, will cut loose on the coon songs." + +"My word!" says the duchess, as she squints through her glasses at the +aggregation. + +But the rest of the guests was just ripe for something of the kind. +Mrs. Curlew Brassett, who'd almost worried herself sick at seein' her +party put on the blink by a shop-worn exhibit on the inside and rain on +the out, told Pinckney he could have the medicine tent pitched in the +middle of her Italian garden, if he wanted to. They didn't, though. +They stuck up the round top on the lawn just in front of the stables, +and they hadn't much more'n lit the gasolene flares before the folks +begins to stroll out and hit up the ticket waggon. + +"It's the first time I ever had the nerve to charge two dollars a throw +for perches on the blue boards," says Leonidas; "but that friend of +yours, Mr. Pinckney, wanted me to make it five." + +Anyway, it was almost worth the money. Mlle. Peroxide, who did the +high and lofty with a job lot of last year coon songs, owned a voice +that would have had a Grand-st. banana huckster down and out; the +monologue man was funny only when he didn't mean to be; and the +black-face banjoist was the limit. Then there was a juggler, and +Montana Kate, who wore buckskin leggins and did a fake rifle-shootin' +act. + +I tried to head Leonidas off from sendin' out his tent men, rigged up +in red flannel coats, to sell bottled Sagawa; but he said Pinckney had +told him to be sure and do it. They were birds, them "gentlemanly +ushers." + +"I'll bet I know where you picked up a lot of 'em," says I. + +"Where?" says Leonidas. + +"Off the benches in City Hall park," I says. + +"All but one," says he, "and he had just graduated from Snake Hill. +But you didn't take this for one of Frohman's road companies, did you?" + +They unloaded the Sagawa, though. The audience wasn't missin' +anything, and most everyone bought a bottle for a souvenir. + +"It's the great Indian liver regulator and complexion beautifier," says +Leonidas in his business talk. "It removes corns, takes the soreness +out of stiff muscles, and restores the natural colour to grey hair. +Also, ladies and gents, it can be used as a furniture polish, while a +few drops in the bath is better than a week at Hot Springs." + +He was right to home, Leonidas was, and it was a joy to see him. He'd +got himself into a wrinkled dress suit, stuck an opera hat on the back +of his head, and he jollied along that swell mob just as easy as if +they'd been factory hands. And they all seemed glad they'd come. +After it was over Pinckney says that it was too bad to keep such a good +thing all to themselves, and he wants me to see if Leonidas wouldn't +stay and give grand matinee performance next day. + +"Tell him I'll guarantee him a full house," says Pinckney. + +Course, Leonidas didn't need any coaxin'. "But I wish you'd find out +if there isn't a butcher's shop handy," says he. "You see, we were up +against it for a week or so, over in Jersey, and the rations ran kind +of low. In fact, all we've had to live on for the last four days has +been bean soup and pilot bread, and the artists are beginning to +complain. Now that I've got a little real money, I'd like to buy a few +pounds of steak. I reckon the aggregation would sleep better after a +hot supper." + +I lays the case before Pinckney and Sadie, and they goes straight for +Mrs. Brassett. And say! before eleven-thirty they had that whole +outfit lined up in the main dinin'-room before such a feed as most of +'em hadn't ever dreamed about. There was everything, from chilled +olives to hot squab, with a pint of fizz at every plate. + +Right after breakfast Pinckney began warmin' the telephone wires, +callin' up everyone he knew within fifteen miles. And he sure did a +good job. While he was at that I strolls out to the tent to have a +little chin with Leonidas, and I discovers him up to the neck in +trouble. He was backed up against the centre pole, and in front of him +was the whole actorette push, all jawin' at once, and raisin' seven +different kinds of ructions. + +"Excuse me for buttin' in," says I; "but I thought maybe this might be +a happy family." + +"It ought to be, but it ain't," says Leonidas. "Just listen to 'em." + +And say, what kind of bats do you think had got into their belfries? +Seems they'd heard about the two-dollar-a-head crowd that was comin' to +the matinee. That, and bein' waited on by a butler at dinner the night +before, had gone to the vacant spot where their brains ought to be. +They were tellin' Leonidas that if they were goin' to play to Broadway +prices they were goin' to give Broadway acts. + +Mlle. Peroxide allowed that she would cut out the rag time and put in a +few choice selections from grand opera. Montana Kate hears that, and +sheds the buckskin leggins. No rifle shootin' for her; not much! She +had Ophelia's lines down pat, and she meant to give 'em or die in the +attempt. The black-face banjoist says he can impersonate Sir Henry +Irving to the life; and the juggler guy wants to show 'em how he can +eat up the Toreador song. + +"These folks want somethin' high-toned," says Mlle. Peroxide, "and this +is the chance of a lifetime for me to fill the bill. I'd been doin' +grand opera long ago if it hadn't been for the trust." + +"They told me at the dramatic school in Dubuque that I ought to stick +to Shakespeare," says Montana Kate, "and here's where I get my hooks +in." + +"You talk to 'em, Shorty," says Leonidas; "I'm hoarse." + +"Not me," says I. "I did think you was a real gent, but I've changed +my mind, Mr. Dodge. Anyone who'll tie the can to high-class talent the +way you're tryin' to do is nothin' less'n a fiend in human form." + +"There, now!" says the blondine. + +Leonidas chucks the sponge. "You win," says he, "I'll let you all take +a stab at anything you please, even if it comes to recitin' 'Ostler +Joe'; but I'll be blanked if I shut down on selling Sagawa!" + +Two minutes later they were turnin' trunks upside down diggin' out +costumes to fit. As soon as they began to rehearse, Leonidas goes +outside and sits down behind the tent, holdin' his face in his hands, +like he had the toothache. + +"It makes me ashamed of my kind," says he. "Why, they're rocky enough +for a third-rate waggon show, and I supposed they knew it; but I'll be +hanged if every last one of 'em don't think they've got Sothern or +Julia Marlowe tied in a knot. Shorty, it's human nature glimpses like +this that makes bein' an optimist hard work." + +"They're a bug-house bunch; all actors are," says I. "You can't change +'em, though." + +"I wish I wasn't responsible for this lot," says he. + +He was feelin' worse than ever when the matinee opens. It had stopped +rainin' early in the mornin', and all the cottagers for miles around +had come over to see what new doin's Pinckney had hatched up. There +was almost a capacity house when Leonidas steps out on the stage to +announce the first turn. I knew he had more green money in his clothes +that minute than he'd handled in a month before, but he acted as +sheepish as if he was goin' to strike 'em for a loan. + +"I wish to call the attention of the audience," says he, "to a few +changes of program. Mlle. Peroxide, who is billed to sing coon songs, +will render by her own request the jewel song from 'Faust,' and two +solos from 'Lucia di Lammermoor.'" + +And say, she did it! Anyways, them was what she aimed at. For awhile +the crowd held its breath, tryin' to believe it was only a freight +engine whistlin' for brakes, or somethin' like that. Then they began +to grin. Next some one touched off a giggle, and after that they +roared until they were wipin' away the tears. + +Leonidas don't look quite so glum when he comes out to present the +reformed banjoist as Sir Henry Irving. He'd got his cue, all right, +and he hands out a game of talk about delayed genius comin' to the +front that tickled the folks clear through. The guy never seemed to +drop that he was bein' handed the lemon, and he done his worst. + +I thought they'd used up all the laughs they had in 'em, but Montana +Kate as Ophelia set 'em wild again. Maybe you've seen amateurs that +was funny, but you never see anything to beat that combination. +Amateurs are afraid to let themselves loose, but not that bunch. They +were so sure of bein' the best that ever happened in their particular +lines that they didn't even know the crowd was givin' 'em the ha-ha +until they'd got through. + +Anyway, as a rib tickler that show was all to the good. The folks +nearly mobbed Pinckney, tellin' him what a case he was to think up such +an exhibition, and he laid it all to Sadie and me. + +Only the duchess didn't exactly seem to connect with the joke. She sat +stolidly through the whole performance in a kind of a daze, and then +afterwards she says: "It wasn't what I'd call really clever, you know; +but, my word! the poor things tried hard enough." + +Just before I starts for home I hunts up Leonidas. He was givin' +orders to his boss canvasman when I found him, and feelin' the pulse of +his one-lunger, that Mrs. Brassett's chauffeur had tinkered up. + +"Well, Leonidas," says I, "are you goin' to put the Shakespeare-Sagawa +combination on the ten-twenty-thirt circuit?" + +"Not if I can prove an alibi," says he. "I've just paid a week's +advance salary to that crowd of Melbas and Booths, and told 'em to go +sign contracts with Frohman and Hammerstein. I may be running a +medicine show, but I've got some professional pride left. Now I'm +going back to New York and engage an educated pig and a troupe of +trained dogs to fill out the season." + +The last I saw of Montana Kate she was pacin' up and down the station +platform, readin' a copy of "Romeo and Juliet." Ain't they the +pippins, though? + + + + +VII + +RINKEY AND THE PHONY LAMP + +Say, for gettin' all the joy that's comin' to you, there's nothin' like +bein' a mixer. The man who travels in one class all the time misses a +lot. And I sure was mixin' it when I closes with Snick Butters and Sir +Hunter Twiggle all in the same day. + +Snick had first place on the card. He drifts into the Studio early in +the forenoon, and when I sees the green patch over the left eye I knows +what's comin'. He's shy of a lamp on that side, you know--uses the +kind you buy at the store, when he's got it; and when he ain't got it, +he wants money. + +I s'pose if I was wise I'd scratched Snick off my list long ago; but +knowin' him is one of the luxuries I've kept up. You know how it is +with them old time friends you've kind of outgrown but hate to chuck in +the discard, even when they work their touch as reg'lar as rent bills. + +But Snick and me played on the same block when we was kids, and there +was a time when I looked for Snick to be boostin' me, 'stead of me +boostin' him. He's one of the near-smarts that you're always expectin' +to make a record, but that never does. Bright lookin' boy, neat +dresser, and all that, but never stickin' to one thing long enough to +make good. You've seen 'em. + +"Hello, Snick!" says I, as he levels the single barrel on me. "I see +you've pulled down the shade again. What's happened to that memorial +window of yours this time?" + +"Same old thing," says he. "It's in at Simpson's for five, and a +bookie's got the five." + +"And now you want to negotiate a second mortgage, eh?" says I. + +That was the case. He tells me his newest job is handlin' the josh +horn on the front end of one of these Rube waggons, and just because +the folks from Keokuk and Painted Post said that lookin' at the patch +took their minds off seein' the skyscrapers, the boss told him he'd +have to chuck it or get the run. + +"He wouldn't come across with a five in advance, either," says Snick. +"How's that for the granite heart?" + +"It's like other tales of woe I've heard you tell," says I, "and +generally they could be traced to your backin' three kings, or gettin' +an inside tip on some beanery skate." + +"That's right," says he, "but never again. I've quit the sportin' life +for good. Just the same, if I don't show up on the waggon for the +'leven o'clock trip I'll be turned loose. If you don't believe it +Shorty, I'll----" + +"Ah, don't go callin' any notary publics," says I. "Here's the V to +take up that ticket. But say, Snick; how many times do I have to buy +out that eye before I get an equity in it?" + +"It's yours now; honest, it is," says he. "If you say so, I'll write +out a bill of sale." + +"No," says I, "your word goes. Do you pass it?" + +He said he did. + +"Thanks," says I. "I always have thought that was a fine eye, and I'm +proud to own it. So long, Snick." + +There's one good thing about Snick Butters; after he's made his touch +he knows enough to fade; don't hang around and rub it in, or give you a +chance to wish you hadn't been so easy. It's touch and go with him, +and before I'd got out the last of my remarks he was on his way. + +It wa'n't more'n half josh, though, that I was givin' him about that +phony pane of his. It was a work of art, one of the bright blue kind. +As a general thing you can always spot a bought eye as far as you can +see it, they're so set and stary. But Snick got his when he was young +and, bein' a cute kid, he had learned how to use it so well that most +folks never knew the difference. He could do about everything but see +with it. + +First off he'd trained it to keep pace with the other, movin' 'em +together, like they was natural; but whenever he wanted to he could +make the glass one stand still and let the other roam around. He +always did that on Friday afternoons when he got up to speak pieces in +the grammar school. And it was no trick at all for him to look wall +eyed one minute, cross eyed the next, and then straighten 'em out with +a jerk of his head. Maybe if it hadn't been for that eye of Snick's +I'd have got further'n the eighth grade. + +His star performance, though, was when he did a jugglin' act keepin' +three potatoes in the air. He'd follow the murphies with his good eye +and turn the other one on the audience, and if you didn't know how it +was done, it would give you the creeps up and down the back, just +watchin' him. + +Say, you'd thought a feller with talent like that would have made a +name for himself, wouldn't you? Tryin' to be a sport was where Snick +fell down, though. He had the blood, all right, but no head. Why when +we used to play marbles for keeps, Snick would never know when to quit. +He'd shoot away until he'd lost his last alley, and then he'd pry out +that glass eye of his and chuck it in the ring for another go. Many a +time Snick's gone home wearin' a striped chiny or a pink stony in place +of the store eye, and then his old lady would chase around lookin' for +the kid that had won it off'm him. There's such a thing as bein' too +good a loser; but you could never make Snick see it. + +Well, I'd marked up five to the bad on my books, and then Swifty Joe +and me had worked an hour with a couple of rockin' chair commodores +from the New York Yacht Club, gettin' 'em in shape to answer Lipton's +batch of spring challenges, when Pinckney blows in, towin' a tubby, red +faced party in a frock coat and a silk lid. + +"Shorty," says he, "I want you to know Sir Hunter Twiggle. Sir Hunter, +this is the Professor McCabe you've heard about." + +"If you heard it from Pinckney," says I, "don't believe more'n half of +it." With that we swaps the grip, and he says he's glad to meet up +with me. + +But say, he hadn't been in the shop two minutes 'fore I was next to the +fact that he was another who'd had to mate up his lamps with a specimen +from the glass counter. + +"They must be runnin' in pairs," thinks I. "This'd be a good time to +draw to three of a kind." + +Course, I didn't mention it, but I couldn't keep from watchin' how +awkward he handled his'n, compared to the smooth way Snick could do it. +I guess Pinckney must have spotted me comin' the steady gaze, for +pretty soon he gets me one side and whispers, "Don't appear to notice +it." + +"All right," says I; "I'll look at his feet." + +"No, no," says Pinckney, "just pretend you haven't discovered it. He's +very sensitive on the subject--thinks no one knows, and so on." + +"But it's as plain as a gold tooth," says I. + +"I know," says Pinckney; "but humour him. He's the right sort." + +Pinckney wa'n't far off, either. For a gent that acted as though he'd +been born wearin' a high collar and a shiny hat, Sir Twiggle wasn't so +worse. Barrin' the stiffenin', which didn't wear off at all, he was a +decent kind of a haitch eater. Bein' dignified was something he +couldn't help. You'd never guessed, to look at him, that he'd ever +been mixed up in anything livelier'n layin' a church cornerstone, but +it leaks out that he had been through all kinds of scraps in India, +comes from the same stock as the old Marquis of Queensberry, and has +followed the ring more or less himself. + +"I had the doubtful honour," says he, bringin' both eyes into range on +me, "of backing a certain Mr. Palmer, whom we sent over here several +years ago after a belt." + +"He got more'n one belt," says I. + +"Quite so," says he, almost crackin' a smile; "one belt too many, I +fancy." + +Say, that was a real puncherino, eh? I ain't sure but what he got off +more along the same line, for some of them British kind is hard to know +unless you see 'em printed in the joke column. Anyway, we has quite a +chin, and before he left we got real chummy. + +He had a right to be feelin' gay, though; for he'd come over to marry a +girl with more real estate deeds than you could pack in a trunk. Some +kin of Pinckney's, this Miss Cornerlot was; a sort of faded flower that +had hung too long on the stem. She'd run across Sir Hunter in London, +him bein' a widower that was willin' to forget, and they'd made a go of +it, nobody knew why. I judged that Pinckney was some relieved at the +prospects of placin' a misfit. He'd laid out for a little dinner at +the club, just to introduce Sir Hunter to his set and brace him up for +bein' inspected by the girl's aunt and other relations at some swell +doin's after. + +I didn't pay much attention to their program at the time. It wa'n't +any of my funeral who Pinckney married off his leftover second cousins +to; and by evenin' I'd clean forgot all about Twiggle; when Pinckney +'phones he'd be obliged if I could step around to a Broadway hotel +right off, as he's in trouble. + +Pinckney meets me just inside the plate glass merry go round. +"Something is the matter with Sir Hunter," says he, "and I can't find +out from his fool man what it is." + +"Before we gets any deeper let's clear the ground," says I. "When you +left him, was he soused, or only damp around the edges?" + +"Oh, it's not that at all," says Pinckney. "Sir Hunter is a +gentleman--er, with a wonderful capacity." + +"The Hippodrome tank's got that too," I says; "but there's enough fancy +drinks mixed on Broadway every afternoon to run it over." + +Sir Hunter has a set of rooms on the 'leventh floor. He wa'n't in +sight, but we digs up Rinkey. By the looks, he'd just escaped from the +chorus of a musical comedy, or else an Italian bakery. Near as I could +make out he didn't have any proper clothes on at all, but was just done +up in white buntin' that was wrapped and draped around him, like a +parlour lamp on movin' day. The spots of him that you could see, +around the back of his neck and the soles of his feet, was the colour +of a twenty-cent maduro cigar. He was spread out on the rug with his +heels toward us and his head on the sill of the door leadin' into the +next room. + +"Back up, Pinckney!" says I. "This must be a coloured prayer meetin' +we're buttin' into." + +"No, it's all right," says Pinckney. "That is Sir Hunter's man, Ringhi +Singh." + +"Sounds like a coon song," says I. "But he's no valet. He's a cook; +can't you see by the cap?" + +"That's a turban," says Pinckney. "Sir Hunter brought Ringhi from +India, and he wears his native costume." + +"Gee!" says I. "If that's his reg'lar get up, he's got Mark Twain's +Phoebe Snow outfit beat a mile. But does Rinkey always rest on his +face when he sits down?" + +"It's that position which puzzles me," says Pinckney. "All I could get +out of him was that Sahib Twiggle was in bed, and wouldn't see anyone." + +"Oh, then the heathen is wise to United States talk, is he?" says I. + +"He understands English, of course," says Pinckney, "but he declines to +talk." + +"That's easy fixed," says I, reachin' out and grabbin' Rinkey by the +slack of his bloomers. "Maybe his conversation works is out of kink," +and I up ends Rinkey into a chair. + +"Be careful!" Pinckney sings out. "They're treachous chaps." + +I had my eye peeled for cutlery, but he was the mildest choc'late cream +you ever saw. He slumped there on the chair, shiverin' as if he had a +chill comin' on, and rollin' his eyes like a cat in a fit. He was so +scared he didn't know the day of the month from the time of night. + +"Cheer up, Rinkey," says I, "and act sociable. Now tell the gentleman +what's ailin' your boss." + +It was like talkin' into a 'phone when the line's out of business. +Rinkey goes on sendin' Morse wireless with his teeth, and never +unloosens a word. + +"Look here, Br'er Singh," says I, "you ain't gettin' any third +degree--yet! Cut out the ague act and give Mr. Pinckney the straight +talk. He's got a date here and wants to know why the gate is up." + +More silence from Rinkey. + +"Oh, well," says I, "I expect it ain't etiquette to jump the outside +guard; but if we're goin' to get next to Sir Hunter, it looks like we +had to announce ourselves. Here goes!" + +I starts for the inside door; but I hadn't got my knuckles on the panel +before Rinkey was givin' me the knee tackle and splutterin' all kinds +of language. + +"Hey!" says I. "Got the cork out, have you?" + +With that Rinkey gets up and beckons us over into the far corner. + +"The lord sahib," says he, rollin' his eyes at the bed room door--"the +lord sahib desire that none should come near. He is in great anger." + +"What's he grouchy about?" says I. + +"The lord sahib," says he, "will destroy to death poor Ringhi Singh if +he reveals." + +"Destroy to death is good," says I; "but it don't sound convincin'. I +think we're bein' strung." + +Pinckney has the same idea, so I gets a good grip on Rinkey's neck. + +"Come off!" says I. "As a liar you're too ambitious. You tell us +what's the matter with your boss, or I'll do things to you that'll make +bein' destroyed to death seem like fallin' on a feather bed!" + +And it come, quick. "Yes, sahib," says he. "It is that there has been +lost beyond finding the lord sahib's glorious eye." + +"Sizzlin' sisters! Another pane gone!" says I. "This must be my eye +retrievin' day, for sure." + +But Pinckney takes it mighty serious. He says that the dinner at the +club don't count for so much, but that the other affair can't be +sidetracked so easy. It seems that the girl has lived through one +throw down, when the feller skipped off to Europe just as the tie-up +was to be posted, and it wouldn't do to give her a second scare of the +same kind. + +Rinkey was mighty reluctant about goin' into details, but we gets it +out of him by degrees that the lord sahib has a habit, when he's locked +up alone, of unscrewin' the fake lamp and puttin' it away in a box full +of cotton battin'. + +"Always in great secret," says Rinkey; "for the lord sahib would not +disclose. But I have seen, which was an evil thing--oh, very evil! +To-night it was done as before; but when it was time for the return, +alas! the box was down side up on the floor and the glorious eye was +not anywhere. Search! We look into everything, under all things. +Then comes a great rage on the lord sahib, and I be sore from it in +many places." + +"That accounts for your restin' on your face, eh?" says I. "Well, +Pinckney, what now?" + +"Why," says he, "we've simply got to get a substitute eye. I'll wait +here while you go out and buy another." + +"Say, Pinckney," I says, "if you was goin' down Broadway at +eight-thirty P. M., shoppin' for glass eyes, where'd you hit first? +Would you try a china store, Or a gent's furnishin's place?" + +"Don't they have them at drug stores?" says Pinckney. + +"I never seen any glass eye counters in the ones I go to," says I. And +then, right in the midst of our battin' our heads, I comes to. + +"Oh, splash!" says I. "Pinckney, if anyone asks you, don't let on what +a hickory head I am. Why, I've got a glass eye that Sir Hunter can +have the loan of over night, just as well as not."' + +"You!" says Pinckney, lookin' wild. + +"Sure thing," says I. "It's a beaut, too. Can't a feller own a glass +eye without wearin' it?" + +"But where is it?" says Pinckney. + +"It's with Snick Butters," says I. "He's usin' it, I expect. Fact is, +it was built for Snick, but I hold a gilt edged first mortgage, and all +I need to do to foreclose is say the word. Come on. Just as soon as +we find Snick you can run back and fix up Sir Hunter as good as new." + +"Do you think you can find him?" says Pinckney. + +"We've got to find him," says I. "I'm gettin' interested in this game." + +Snick was holdin' down a chair in the smokin' room at the Gilsey. He +grins when he sees me, but when I puts it up to him about callin' in +the loose lens for over night his jaw drops. + +"Just my luck," says he. "Here I've got bill board seats for the +Casino and was goin' to take the newsstand girl to the show as soon as +she can get off." + +"Sorry, Snick," says I, "but this is a desperate case. Won't she stand +for the green curtain?" + +"S-s-sh!" says he. "She don't know a thing about that. I'll have to +call it off. Give me two minutes, will you?" + +That was Snick, all over--losin' out just as easy as some folks wins. +When he comes back, though, and I tells him what's doin', he says he'd +like to know just where the lamp was goin', so he could be around after +it in the mornin'. + +"Sure," says I. "Bring it along up with you, then, there won't be any +chance of our losin' it." + +So all three of us goes back to the hotel. Pinckney wa'n't sayin' a +word, actin' like he was kind of dazed, but watchin' Snick all the +time. As we gets into the elevator, he pulls me by the sleeve and +whispers: + +"I say, Shorty, which one is it?" + +"The south one," says I. + +It wasn't till we got clear into Sir Hunter's reception room, under the +light, that Pinckney heaves up something else. + +"Oh, I say!" says he, starin' at Snick. "Beg pardon for mentioning it, +but yours is a--er--you have blue eyes, haven't you, Mr. Butters?" + +"That's right," says Snick. + +"And Sir Hunter's are brown. It will never do," says he. + +"Ah, what's the odds at night?" says I. "Maybe the girl's colour +blind, anyway." + +"No," says Pinckney, "Sir Hunter would never do it. Now, if you only +knew of some one with a----" + +"I don't," says I. "Snick's the only glass eyed friend I got on my +repertoire. It's either his or none. You send Rinkey in to ask +Twiggle if a blue one won't do on a pinch." + +Mr. Rinkey didn't like the sound of that program a bit, and he goes to +clawin' around my knees, beggin' me not to send him in to the lord +sahib. + +"G'wan!" says I, pushin' him off. "You make me feel as if I was bein' +measured for a pair of leggin's. Skiddo!" + +As I gives him a shove my finger catches in the white stuff he has +around his head, and it begins to unwind. I'd peeled off about a yard, +when out rolls somethin' shiny that Snick spots and made a grab for. + +"Hello!" says he. "What's this?" + +It was the stray brown, all right. That Kipling coon has had it stowed +away all the time. Well say, there was lively doin's in that room for +the next few minutes; me tryin' to get a strangle hold on Rinkey, and +him doin' his best to jump through a window, chairs bein' knocked over, +Snick hoppin' around tryin' to help, and Pinckney explainin' to Sir +Hunter through the keyhole what it was all about. + +When it was through we held a court of inquiry. And what do you guess? +That smoked Chinaman had swiped it on purpose, thinkin' if he wore it +on the back of his head he could see behind him. Wouldn't that grind +you? + +But it all comes out happy. Sir Hunter was a little late for dinner, +but he shows up two eyed before the girl, makes a hit with her folks, +and has engaged Snick to give him private lessons on how to make a fake +optic behave like the real goods. + + + + +VIII + +PINCKNEY AND THE TWINS + +Say, when it comes to gettin' himself tangled up in ways that nobody +ever thought of before, you can play Pinckney clear across the board. +But I never knew him to send out such a hard breathin' hurry call as +the one I got the other day. It come first thing in the mornin' too, +just about the time Pinckney used to be tearin' off the second coupon +from the slumber card. I hadn't more'n got inside the Studio door +before Swifty Joe says: + +"Pinckney's been tryin' to get you on the wire." + +"Gee!" says I, "he's stayin' up late last night! Did he leave the +number?" + +He had, and it was a sixty-cent long distance call; so the first play I +makes when I rings up is to reverse the charge. + +"That you, Shorty?" says he. "Then for goodness' sake come up here on +the next train! Will you?" + +"House afire, bone in your throat, or what?" says I. + +"It's those twins," says he. + +"Bad as that?" says I. "Then I'll come." + +Wa'n't I tellin' you about the pair of mated orphans that was shipped +over to him unexpected; and how Miss Gertie, the Western blush rose +that was on the steamer with 'em, helps him out? Well, the last I +hears, Pinckney is gone on Miss Gertie and gettin' farther from sight +every minute. He's planned it out to have the knot tied right away, +hire a furnished cottage for the summer, and put in the honeymoon +gettin' acquainted with the ready made family that they starts in with. +Great scheme! Suits Pinckney right down to the ground, because it's +different. He begins by accumulatin' a pair of twins, next he finds a +girl and then he thinks about gettin' married. By the way he talked, I +thought it was all settled; but hearin' this whoop for help I +suspicioned there must be some hitch. + +There wa'n't any carnation in his buttonhole when he meets me at the +station; he hasn't shaved since the day before; and there's trouble +tracks on his brow. + +"Can't you stand married life better'n this?" says I. + +"Married!" says he. "No such luck. I never expect to be married, +Shorty; I'm not fit." + +"Is this a decision that was handed you, or was it somethin' you found +out for yourself?" says I. + +"It's my own discovery," says he. + +"Then there's hope," says I. "So the twins have been gettin' you +worried, eh? Where's Miss Gertie?" + +That gives Pinckney the hard luck cue, and while we jogs along towards +his new place in the tub cart he tells me all about what's been +happenin'. First off he owns up that he's queered his good start with +Miss Gertie by bein' in such a rush to flash the solitaire spark on +her. She ain't used to Pinckney's jumpy ways. They hadn't been +acquainted much more'n a week, and he hadn't gone through any of the +prelim's, when he ups and asks her what day it will be and whether she +chooses church or parsonage. Course she shies at that, and the next +thing Pinckney knows she's taken a train West, leavin' him with the +twins on his hands, and a nice little note sayin' that while she +appreciates the honour she's afraid he won't do. + +"And you're left at the post?" says I. + +"Yes," says he. "I couldn't take the twins and follow her, but I could +telegraph. My first message read like this, 'What's the matter with +me?' Here is her answer to that," and he digs up a yellow envelope +from his inside pocket. + +"Not domestic enough. G." It was short and crisp. + +He couldn't give me his come back to that, for he said it covered three +blanks; but it was meant to be an ironclad affidavit that he could be +just as domestic as the next man, if he only had a chance. + +"And then?" says I. + +"Read it," says he, handin' over Exhibit Two. + +"You have the chance now," it says. "Manage the twins for a month, and +I will believe you." + +And that was as far as he could get. Now, first and last, I guess +there's been dozens of girls, not countin' all kinds of widows, that's +had their lassoes out for Pinckney. He's been more or less interested +in some; but when he really runs across one that's worth taggin' she +does the sudden duck and runs him up against a game like this. + +"And you're tryin' to make good, eh?" says I. "What's your program?" + +For Pinckney, he hadn't done so worse. First he hunts up the only aunt +he's got on his list. She's a wide, heavy weight old girl, that's lost +or mislaid a couple of husbands, but hasn't ever had any kids of her +own, and puts in her time goin' to Europe and comin' back. She was +just havin' the trunks checked for Switzerland when Pinckney locates +her and tells how glad he is to see her again. Didn't she want to +change her plans and stay a month or so with him and the twins at some +nice place up in Westchester? One glimpse of Jack and Jill with their +comp'ny manners on wins her. Sure, she will! + +So it's tip to Pinckney to hire a happy home for the summer, all found. +Got any idea of how he tackles a job like that? Most folks would take +a week off and do a lot of travelling sizin' up different joints. +They'd want to know how many bath rooms, if there was malaria, and all +about the plumbin', and what the neighbours was like. But livin' at +the club don't put you wise to them tricks. Pinckney, he just rings up +a real estate agent, gets him to read off a list, says, "I'll take No. +3," and it's all over. Next day they move out. + +Was he stung? Well, not so bad as you'd think. Course, he's stuck +about two prices for rent, and he signs a lease without readin' farther +than the "Whereas"; but, barrin' a few things like haircloth furniture +and rooms that have been shut up so long they smell like the subcellars +in a brewery, he says the ranch wa'n't so bad. The outdoors was good, +anyway. There was lots of it, acres and acres, with trees, and flower +gardens, and walks, and fish ponds, and everything you could want for a +pair of youngsters that needed room. I could see that myself. + +"Say, Pinckney," says I, as we drives in through the grounds, "if you +can't get along with Jack and Jill in a place of this kind you'd better +give up. Why, all you got to do is to turn 'em loose." + +"Wait!" says he. "You haven't heard it all." + +"Let it come, then," says I. + +"We will look at the house first," says he. + +The kids wa'n't anywhere in sight; so we starts right in on the tour of +inspection. It was a big, old, slate roofed baracks, with jigsaw work +on the eaves, and a lot of dinky towers frescoed with lightnin' rods. +There was furniture to match, mostly the marble topped, black walnut +kind, that was real stylish back in the '70's. + +In the hall we runs across Snivens. He was the butler; but you +wouldn't guess it unless you was told. Kind of a cross between a horse +doctor and a missionary, I should call him--one of these short legged, +barrel podded gents, with a pair of white wind harps framin' up a putty +coloured face that was ornamented with a set of the solemnest lookin' +lamps you ever saw off a stuffed owl. + +"Gee, Pinckney!" says I, "who unloaded that on you!" + +"Snivens came with the place," says he. + +"He looks it," says I. "I should think that face would sour milk. +Don't he scare the twins?" + +"Frighten Jack and Jill?" says Pinckney. "Not if he had horns and a +tail! They seem to take him as a joke. But he does make all the rest +of us feel creepy." + +"Why don't you write him his release?" says I. + +"Can't," says Pinckney. "He is one of the conditions in the +contract--he and the urns." + +"The urns?" says I. + +"Yes," says Pinckney, sighin' deep. "We are coming to them now. There +they are." + +With that we steps into one of the front rooms, and he lines me up +before a white marble mantel that is just as cheerful and tasty as some +of them pieces in Greenwood Cemetery. On either end was what looks to +be a bronze flower pot. + +"To your right," says Pinckney, "is Grandfather; to your left, Aunt +Sabina." + +"What's the josh?" says I. + +"Shorty," says he, heavin' up another sigh, "you are now in the +presence of sacred dust. These urns contain the sad fragments of two +great Van Rusters." + +"Fragments is good," says I. "Couldn't find many to keep, could they? +Did they go up with a powder mill, or fall into a stone crusher?" + +"Cremated," says Pinckney. + +Then I gets the whole story of the two old maids that Pinckney rented +the place from. They were the last of the clan. In their day the Van +Rusters had headed the Westchester battin' list, ownin' about half the +county and gettin' their names in the paper reg'lar. But they'd been +peterin' out for the last hundred years or so, and when it got down to +the Misses Van Rusters, a pair of thin edged, old battle axes that had +never wore anything but crape and jet bonnets, there wa'n't much left +of the estate except the mortgages and the urns. + +Rentin' the place furnished was the last card in the box, and Pinckney +turns up as the willin' victim. When he comes to size up what he's +drawn, and has read over the lease, he finds he's put his name to a lot +he didn't dream about. Keepin' Snivens on the pay roll, promisin' not +to disturb the urns, usin' the furniture careful, and havin' the grass +cut in the private buryin' lot was only a few that he could think of +off hand. + +"You ain't a tenant, Pinckney," says I; "you're a philanthropist." + +"I feel that way," says he. "At first, I didn't know which was worse, +Snivens or the urns. But I know now--it is the urns. They are driving +me to distraction." + +"Ah, do a lap!" says I. "Course, I give in that there might be better +parlour ornaments than potted ancestors, specially when they belong to +someone else; but they don't come extra, do they? I thought it was the +twins that was worryin' you?" + +"That is where the urns come in," says he. "Here the youngsters are +now. Step back in here and watch." + +He pulls me into the next room, where we could see through the +draperies. There's a whoop and a hurrah outside, the door bangs, and +in tumbles the kids, with a nurse taggin' on behind. The youngsters +makes a bee line for the mantelpiece and sings out: + +"Hello, Grandfather! Hello, Aunt Sabina! Look what we brought this +time!" + +"Stop it! Stop it!" says the nurse, her eyes buggin' out. + +"Boo! Fraid cat!" yells the twins, and nursy skips. Then they begins +to unload the stuff they've lugged in, pilin' it up alongside the urns, +singin' out like auctioneers, "There's some daisies for Aunt Sabina! +And wild strawberries for Grandfather! And a mud turtle for aunty! +And a bird's nest for Grandfather!" windin' up the performance by +joinin' hands and goin' through a reg'lar war dance. + +Pinckney explains how this was only a sample of what had been goin' on +ever since they heard Snivens tellin' what was in the urns. They'd +stood by, listenin' with their mouths and ears wide open, and then +they'd asked questions until everyone was wore out tryin' to answer +'em. But the real woe came when the yarn got around among the servants +and they begun leavin' faster'n Pinckney's Aunt Mary could send out new +ones from town. + +"Maybe the kids'll get tired of it in a few days," says I. + +"Exactly what I thought," says Pinckney; "but they don't. It's the +best game they can think of, and if I allow them they will stay in here +by the hour, cutting up for the benefit of Grandfather and Aunt Sabina. +It's morbid. It gets on one's nerves. My aunt says she can't stand it +much longer, and if she goes I shall have to break up. If you're a +friend of mine, Shorty, you'll think of some way to get those +youngsters interested in something else." + +"Why don't you buy 'em a pony cart?" says I. + +"I've bought two," says he; "and games and candy, and parrots and +mechanical toys enough to stock a store. Still they keep this thing +up." + +"And if you quit the domestic game, the kids have to go to some home, +and you go back to the club?" says I. + +"That's it," says he. + +"And when Miss Gertie comes on, and finds you've renigged, it's all up +between you and her, eh?" says I. + +Pinckney groans. + +"G'wan!" says I. "Go take a sleep." + +With that I steps in and shows myself to the kids. They yells and +makes a dash for me. Inside of two minutes I've been introduced to +Grandfather and Aunt Sabina, made to do a duck before both jars, and am +planted on the haircloth sofa with a kid holdin' either arm, while they +puts me through the third degree. They want information. + +"Did you ever see folks burned and put in jars?" says Jack. + +"No," says I; "but I've seen pickled ones jugged. I hear you've got +some ponies." + +"Two," says Jill; "spotted ones. Would you want to be burned after you +was a deader?" + +"Better after than before," says I. "Where's the ponies now?" + +"What do the ashes look like?" says Jack. + +"Are there any clinkers?" says Jill. + +Say, I was down and out in the first round. For every word I could get +in about ponies they got in ten about them bloomin' jars, and when I +leaves 'em they was organisin' a circus, with Grandfather and Aunt +Sabina supposed to be occupyin' the reserved seats. Honest, it was +enough to chill the spine of a morgue keeper. By good luck I runs +across Snivens snoopin' through the hall. + +"See here, you!" says I. "I want to talk to you." + +"Beg pardon, sir," says he, backin' off, real stiff and dignified; +"but----" + +"Ah, chuck it!" says I, reachin' out and gettin' hold of his collar, +playful like. "You've been listenin' at the door. Now what do you +think of the way them kids is carryin' on in there?" + +"It's outrageous, sir!" says he, puffin' up his cheeks, "It's +scandalous! They're young imps, so they are, sir." + +"Want to stop all that nonsense?" says I. + +He says he does. + +"Then," says I, "you take them jars down cellar and hide 'em in the +coal bin." + +He holds up both hands at that. "It can't be done, sir," says he. +"They've been right there for twenty years without bein' so much as +moved. They were very superior folks, sir, very superior." + +"Couldn't you put 'em in the attic, then?" says I. + +He couldn't. He says it's in the lease that the jars wa'n't to be +touched. + +"Snivens," says I, shovin' a twenty at him, "forget the lease." + +Say, he looks at that yellowback as longin' as an East Side kid sizin' +up a fruit cart. Then he gives a shiver and shakes his head. "Not for +a thousand, sir," says he. "I wouldn't dare." + +"You're an old billygoat, Snivens," says I. + +And that's all the good I did with my little whirl at the game; but I +tries to cheer Pinckney up by tellin' him the kids wa'n't doin' any +harm. + +"But they are," says Pinckney. "They're raising the very mischief with +my plans. The maids are scared to death. They say the house is +haunted. Four of them gave notice to-day. Aunt Mary is packing her +trunks, and that means that I might as well give up. I'll inquire +about a home to send them to this afternoon." + +I guess it was about four o'clock, and I was tryin' to take a snooze in +a hammock on the front porch, when I hears the twins makin' life +miserable for the gard'ner that was fixin' the rose bushes. + +"Lemme dig, Pat," says Jill. + +"G'wan, ye young tarrier!" says Pat + +"Can't I help some?" says Jack. + +"Yes, if ye'll go off about a mile," says Pat. + +"Why don't the roses grow any more?" asks Jill. + +"It's needin' ashes on 'em they are," says Pat. + +"Ashes!" says Jack. + +"Ashes!" says Jill. + +Then together, "Oh, we know where there's ashes--lots!" + +"We'll fetch 'em!" says Jill, and with that I hears a scamperin' up the +steps. + +I was just gettin' up to chase after 'em, when I has another thought. +"What's the use, anyway?" thinks I. "It's their last stunt." So I +turns over and pretends to snooze. + +When Pinckney shows up about six the twins has the pony carts out and +is doin' a chariot race around the drive, as happy and innocent as a +couple of pink angels. Then they eats their supper and goes to bed, +with nary a mention of sayin' good-night to the jars, like they'd been +in the habit of doin'. Next mornin' they gets up as frisky as colts +and goes out to play wild Indians in the bushes. They was at it all +the forenoon, and never a word about Grandfather and Aunt Sabina. +Pinckney notices it, but he don't dare speak of it for fear he'll break +the spell. About two he comes in with a telegram. + +"Miss Gertie's coming on the four o'clock train," says he, lookin' wild. + +"You don't act like you was much tickled," says I. + +"She's sure to find out what a muss I've made of things," says he. +"The moment she gets here I expect the twins will start up that +confounded rigmarole about Grandfather and Aunt Sabina again. Oh, I +can hear them doing it!" + +I let it go at that. But while he's away at the station the kitchen +talk breaks loose. The cook and two maids calls for Aunt Mary, tells +her what they think of a place that has canned spooks in the parlour, +and starts for the trolley. Aunt Mary gets her bonnet on and has her +trunks lugged down on the front porch. That's the kind of a reception +we has for Miss Gertrude and her mother when they show up. + +"Anything particular the matter?" whispers Pinckney to me, as he hands +the guests out of the carriage. + +"Nothin' much," says I. "Me and Snivens and the twins is left. The +others have gone or are goin'." + +"What is the matter?" says Miss Gertie. + +"Everything," says Pinckney. "I've made a flat failure. Shorty, you +bring in the twins and we'll end this thing right now." + +Well, I rounds up Jack and Jill, and after they've hugged Miss Gertie +until her travelin' dress is fixed for a week at the cleaners', +Pinckney leads us all into the front room. The urns was there on the +mantel; but the kids don't even give 'em a look. + +"Come on, you young rascals!" says he, as desperate as if he was +pleadin' guilty to blowin' up a safe. "Tell Miss Gertrude about +Grandfather and Aunt Sabina." + +"Oh," says Jack, "they're out in the flower bed." + +"We fed 'em to the rose bushes," says Jill. + +"We didn't like to lose 'em," says Jack; "but Pat needed the ashes." + +"It's straight goods," says I; "I was there." + +And say, when Miss Gertrude hears the whole yarn about the urns, and +the trouble they've made Pinckney, she stops laughin' and holds out one +hand to him over Jill's shoulder. + +"You poor boy!" says she. "Didn't you ever read Omar's-- + + "I sometimes think that never blows so red + The rose, as where some buried Caesar bled'?" + + +Say, who was this duck Omar? And what's that got to do with +fertilisin' flower beds with the pulverised relations of your +landladies? I give it up. All I know is that Pinckney's had them jars +refilled with A-1 wood ashes, that Aunt Mary managed to 'phone up a new +set of help before mornin', and that when I left Pinckney and Miss +Gertie and the twins was' strollin' about, holdin' hands and lookin' to +be havin' the time of their lives. + +Domestic? Say, a clear Havana Punko, made in Connecticut, ain't in it +with him. + + + + +IX + +A LINE ON PEACOCK ALLEY + +What's the use of travelin', when there's more fun stayin' home? +Scenery? Say, the scenery that suits me best is the kind they keep lit +up all night. There's a lot of it between 14th-st. and the park. +Folks? Why, you stand on the corner of 42d and Broadway long enough +and you won't miss seein' many of 'em. They most all get here sooner +or later. + +Now, look at what happens last evenin'. I was just leanin' up against +the street door, real comfortable and satisfied after a good dinner, +when Swifty Joe comes down from the Studio and says there's a party by +the name of Merrity been callin' me up on the 'phone. + +"Merrity?" says I. "That sounds kind of joyous and familiar. Didn't +he give any letters for the front of it?" + +"Nothin' but Hank," says Swifty. + +"Oh, yes," says I, gettin' the clue. "What did Hank have to say?" + +"Said he was a friend of yours, and if you didn't have nothin' better +on the hook he'd like to see you around the Wisteria," says Swifty. + +With that I lets loose a snicker. Honest, I couldn't help it. + +"Ah, chee!" says Swifty. "Is it a string, or not? I might get a laugh +out of this myself." + +"Yes, and then again you mightn't," says I. "Maybe it'd bring on +nothin' but a brain storm. You wait until I find out if it's safe to +tell you." + +With that I starts down towards 34th-st to see if it was really so +about Hank Merrity; for the last glimpse I got of him he was out in +Colorado, wearin' spurs and fringed buckskin pants, and lookin' to be +as much of a fixture there as Pike's Peak. + +It was while I was trainin' for one of my big matches, that I met up +with Hank. We'd picked out Bedelia for a camp. You've heard of +Bedelia? No? Then you ought to study the map. Anyway, if you'd been +followin' the sportin' news reg'lar a few years back, you'd remember. +There was a few days about that time when more press despatches was +filed from Bedelia than from Washington. And the pictures that was +sent east; "Shorty Ropin' Steers"--"Mr. McCabe Swingin' a Bronco by the +Tail," and all such truck. You know the kind of stuff them newspaper +artists strains their imaginations on. + +Course, I was too busy to bother about what they did to me, and didn't +care, anyway. But it was different with Hank. Oh, they got him too! +You see, he had a ranch about four miles north of our camp, and one of +my reg'lar forenoon stunts was to gallop up there, take a big swig of +mountain spring water--better'n anything you can buy in bottles--chin a +few minutes with Hank and the boys, and then dog trot it back. + +That was how the boss of Merrity's ranch came to get his picture in the +sportin' page alongside of a diagram of the four different ways I had +of peelin' a boiled potato. Them was the times when I took my exercise +with a sportin' editor hangin' to each elbow, and fellows with drawin' +pads squattin' all over the place. Just for a josh I lugged one of the +papers that had a picture of Hank up to the ranch, expectin' when he +saw it, he'd want to buckle on his guns and start down after the gent +that did it. + +You couldn't have blamed him much if he had; for Hank's features wa'n't +cut on what you might call classic lines. He looked more like a copy +of an old master that had been done by a sign painter on the side of a +barn. Not that he was so mortal homely, but his colour scheme was kind +of surprisin'. His complexion was a shade or two lighter than a new +saddle, except his neck, which was a flannel red, with lovely brown +speckles on it; and his eyes was sort of buttermilk blue, with eyebrows +that you had to guess at. His chief decoration though, was a lip +whisker that was a marvel--one of these ginger coloured droopers that +took root way down below his mouth corners and looked like it was there +to stay. + +But up on the ranch and down in Bedelia I never heard anyone pass +remarks on Hank Merrity's looks. He wa'n't no bad man either, but as +mild and gentle a beef raiser as you'd want to see. He seemed to be +quite a star among the cow punchers, and after I'd got used to his +peculiar style of beauty I kind of took to him, too. + +The picture didn't r'ile him a bit. He sat there lookin' at it for a +good five minutes without sayin' a word, them buttermilk eyes just +starin', kind of blank and dazed. Then he looks up, as pleased as a +kid, and says, "Wall, I'll be cussed! Mighty slick, ain't it?" + +Next he hollers for Reney--that was Mrs. Merrity. She was a good +sized, able bodied wild rose, Reney was; not such a bad looker, but a +little shy on style. A calico wrapper with the sleeves rolled up, a +lot of crinkly brown hair wavin' down her back, and an old pair of +carpet slippers on her feet, was Reney's mornin' costume. I shouldn't +wonder but what it did for afternoon and evenin' as well. + +Mrs. Merrity was more tickled with the picture than Hank. She stared +from the paper to him and back again, actin' like she thought Hank had +done somethin' she ought to be proud of, but couldn't exactly place. + +"Sho, Hank!" says she. "I wisht they'd waited until you'd put on your +Sunday shirt and slicked up a little." + +He was a real torrid proposition when he did slick up. I saw him do it +once, a couple of nights before I broke trainin', when they was goin' +to have a dance up to the ranch. His idea of makin' a swell toilet was +to take a hunk of sheep tallow and grease his boots clear to the tops. +Then he ducks his head into the horse trough and polishes the back of +his neck with a bar of yellow soap. Next he dries himself off on a +meal sack, uses half a bottle of scented hair oil on his Buffalo Bill +thatch, pulls on a striped gingham shirt, ties a red silk handkerchief +around his throat, and he's ready to receive comp'ny. I didn't see +Mrs. Merrity after she got herself fixed for the ball; but Hank told me +she was goin' to wear a shirt waist that she'd sent clear to Kansas +City for. + +Oh, we got real chummy before I left. He came down to see me off the +day I started for Denver, and while we was waitin' for the train he +told me the story of his life: How he'd been rustlin' for himself ever +since he'd graduated from an orphan asylum in Illinois; the different +things he'd worked at before he learned the cow business; and how, when +he'd first met Reney slingin' crockery in a railroad restaurant, and +married her on sight, they'd started out with a cash capital of one +five-dollar bill and thirty-eight cents in change, to make their +fortune. Then he told me how many steers and yearlings he owned, and +how much grazin' land he'd got inside of wire. + +"That's doin' middlin' well, ain't it?" says he. + +Come to figure up, it was, and I told him I didn't see why he wa'n't in +a fair way to find himself cuttin' into the grape some day. + +"It all depends on the Jayhawker," says he. "I've got a third int'rest +in that. Course, I ain't hollerin' a lot about it yet, for it ain't +much more'n a hole in the ground; but if they ever strike the yellow +there maybe we'll come on and take a look at New York." + +"It's worth it," says I. "Hunt me up when you do." + +"I shore will," says Hank. "Good luck!" + +And the last I see of him he was standin' there in his buckskin pants, +gawpin' at the steam cars. + +Now, I ain't been spendin' my time ever since wonderin' what was +happenin' to Hank. You know how it is. Maybe I've had him in mind two +or three times. But when I gets that 'phone message I didn't have any +trouble about callin' up my last view of him. So, when it come to +buttin' into a swell Fifth-ave. hotel and askin' for Hank Merrity, I +has a sudden spasm of bashfulness. It didn't last long. + +"If Hank was good enough for me to chum with in Bedelia," says I, "he +ought to have some standin' with me here. There wa'n't anything I +could have asked that he wouldn't have done for me out there, and I +guess if he needs some one to show him where Broadway is, and tell him +to take his pants out of his boot tops, it's up to me to do it." + +Just the same, when I gets up to the desk, I whispers it confidential +to the clerk. If he'd come back with a hee-haw I wouldn't have said a +word. I was expectin' somethin' of the kind. But never a chuckle. He +don't even grin. + +"Hank Merrity?" says he, shakin' his head. "We have a guest here, +though, by the name of Henry Merrity--Mr. Henry Merrity." + +"That's him," says I. "All the Henrys are Hanks when you get west of +Omaha. Where'll I find him?" + +I was hopin' he'd be up in his room, practisin' with' the electric +light buttons, or bracin' himself for a ride down in the elevator; but +there was no answer to the call on the house 'phone; so I has to wait +while a boy goes out with my card on a silver tray, squeakin', "Mister +Merrity! Mis-ter Merrity!" Five minutes later I was towed through the +palms into the Turkish smokin' room, and the next thing I knew I was +lined up in front of a perfect gent. + +Say, if it hadn't been for them buttermilk eyes, you never could have +made me believe it was him. Honest, them eyes was all there was left +of the Hank Merrity I'd known in Bedelia. It wa'n't just the clothes, +either, though he had 'em all on,--op'ra lid, four-button white vest, +shiny shoes, and the rest,--it was what had happened to his face that +was stunnin' me. + +The lip drooper had been wiped out--not just shaved off, mind you, but +scrubbed clean. The russet colour was gone, too. He was as pink and +white and smooth as a roastin' pig that's been scraped and sandpapered +for a window display in a meat shop. You've noticed that electric +light complexion some of our Broadway rounders gets on? Well, Hank had +it. Even the neck freckles had got the magic touch. + +Course, he hadn't been turned into any he Venus, at that; but as he +stood, costume and all, he looked as much a part of New York as the +Flatiron Buildin'. And while I'm buggin' my eyes out and holdin' my +mouth open, he grabs me by the hand and slaps me on the back. + +"Why, hello, Shorty! I'm mighty glad to see you. Put 'er there!" says +he. + +"Gee!" says I. "Then it's true! Now I guess the thing for me to do is +to own up to Maude Adams that I believe in fairies. Hank, who did it?" + +"Did what?" says he. + +"Why, made your face over and put on the Fifth-ave. gloss?" says I. + +"Do I look it?" says he, grinnin'. "Would I pass?" + +"Pass!" says I. "Hank, they could use you for a sign. Lookin' as you +do now, you could go to any one night stand in the country and be +handed the New York papers without sayin' a word. What I want to know, +though, is how it happened?" + +"Happen?" says he. "Shorty, such things don't come by accident. You +buy 'em. You go through torture for 'em." + +"Say, Hank," says I, "you don't mean to say you've been up against the +skinologists?" + +Well, he had. They'd kept his face in a steam box by the hour, +scrubbed him with pumice stone, electrocuted his lip fringe, made him +wear a sleepin' mask, and done everything but peel him alive. + +"Look at that for a paw!" says he. "Ain't it lady-like?" + +It was. Every fingernail showed the half moon, and the palm was as +soft as a baby's. + +"You must have been makin' a business of it," says I. "How long has +this thing been goin' on?" + +"Nearly four months," says Hank, heavin' a groan. "Part of that time I +put in five hours a day; but I've got 'em scaled down to two now. It's +been awful, Shorty, but it had to be done." + +"How was that?" says I. + +"On Reney's account," says he. "She's powerful peart at savvyin' +things, Reney is. Why, when we struck town I was wearin' a leather +trimmed hat and eatin' with my knife, just as polite as I knew how. We +hadn't been here a day before she saw that something was wrong. +'Hank,' says she, 'this ain't where we belong. Let's go back.'--'What +for?' says I.--'Shucks!' says she. 'Can't you see? These folks are +different from us. Look at 'em!' Well, I did, and it made me mad. +'Reney,' says I,' I'll allow there is something wrong with us, but I +reckon it ain't bone deep. There's such a thing as burnin' one brand +over another, ain't there? Suppose we give it a whirl?' That's what +we done too, and I'm beginnin' to suspicion we've made good." + +"I guess you have, Hank," says I; "but ain't it expensive? You haven't +gone broke to do it, have you?" + +"Broke!" says he, smilin'. "Guess you ain't heard what they're takin' +out of the Jayhawker these days. Why, I couldn't spend it all if I had +four hands. But come on. Let's find Reney and go to a show, +somewheres." + +Course, seein' Hank had kind of prepared me for a change in Mrs. +Merrity; so I braces myself for the shock and tries to forget the +wrapper and carpet slippers. But you know the kind of birds that roost +along Peacock Alley? There was a double row of 'em holdin' down the +arm chairs on either side of the corridor, and lookin' like a livin' +exhibit of spring millinery. I tried hard to imagine Reney in that +bunch; but it was no go. The best I could do was throw up a picture of +a squatty female in a Kansas City shirt waist. And then, all of a +sudden, we fetches up alongside a fairy in radium silk and lace, with +her hair waved to the minute, and carryin' enough sparks to light up +the subway. She was the star of the collection, and I nearly loses my +breath when Hank says: + +"Reney, you remember Shorty McCabe, don't you?" + +"Ah, rully!" says she liftin' up a pair of gold handled eye glasses and +takin' a peek. "Chawmed to meet you again, Mr. McCabe." + +"M-m-me too," says I. It was all the conversation I had ready to pass +out. + +Maybe I acted some foolish; but for the next few minutes I didn't do +anything but stand there, sizin' her up and inspectin' the +improvements. There hadn't been any half way business about her. If +Hank was a good imitation, Mrs. Merrity was the real thing. She was +it. I've often wondered where they all came from, them birds of +Paradise that we see floatin' around such places; but now I've got a +line on 'em. They ain't all raised in New York. It's pin spots on the +map like Bedelia that keeps up the supply. + +Reney hadn't stopped with takin' courses at the beauty doctors and +goin' the limit on fancy clothes. She'd been plungin' on conversation +lessons, voice culture, and all kind of parlour tricks. She'd been +keepin' her eyes and ears open too, takin' her models from real life; +and the finished product was somethin' you'd say had never been west of +Broadway or east of Fourth-ave. As for her ever doin' such a thing as +juggle crockery, it was almost a libel to think of it. + +"Like it here in town, do you?" says I, firin' it at both of 'em. + +"Like it!" says Hank. "See what it's costin' us. We got to like it." + +She gives him a look that must have felt like an icicle slipped down +his neck. "Certainly we enjoy New York," says she. "It's our home, +don'cha know." + +"Gosh!" says I. I didn't mean to let it slip out, but it got past me +before I knew. + +Mrs. Merrity only raises her eyebrows and smiles, as much as to say, +"Oh, what can one expect?" + +That numbs me so much I didn't have life enough to back out of goin' to +the theatre with 'em, as Hank had planned. Course, we has a box, and +it wasn't until she'd got herself placed well up in front and was +lookin' the house over through the glasses that I gets a chance for a +few remarks with Hank. + +"Is she like that all the time now?" I whispers. + +"You bet!" says he. "Don't she do it good?" + +Say, there wa'n't any mistakin' how the act hit Hank. "You ought to +see her with her op'ra rig on, though--tiara, and all that," says he. + +"Go reg'lar?" says I. + +"Tuesdays and Fridays," says he. "We leases the box for them nights." + +That gets me curious to know how they puts in their time, so I has him +give me an outline. It was something like this: Coffee and rolls at +ten-thirty A. M.; hair dressers, manicures, and massage artists till +twelve-thirty; drivin' in the brougham till two; an hour off for lunch; +more drivin' and shoppin' till five; nap till six; then the maids and +valets and so on to fix 'em up for dinner; theatre or op'ra till +eleven; supper at some swell cafe; and the pillows about two A. M. + +Then the curtain goes up for the second act, and I see Hank had got his +eyes glued on the stage. As we'd come late, I hadn't got the hang of +the piece before, but now I notices it's one of them gunless Wild West +plays that's hit Broadway so hard. It was a breezy kind of a scene +they showed up. To one side was an almost truly log cabin, with a tin +wash basin hung on a nail just outside the front door and some real +firewood stacked up under the window. Off up the middle was mountains +piled up, one on top of the other, clear up into the flies. + +The thing didn't strike me at first, until I hears Hank dig up a sigh +that sounds as if it started from his shoes. Then I tumbles. This +stage settin' was almost a dead ringer for his old ranch out north of +Bedelia. In a minute in comes a bunch of stage cowboys. They was a +lot cleaner lookin' than any I ever saw around Merrity's, and some of +'em was wearin' misfit whiskers; but barrin' a few little points like +that they fitted into the picture well enough. Next we hears a whoop, +and in bounces the leadin' lady, rigged out in beaded leggin's, knee +length skirt, leather coat, and Shy Ann hat, with her red hair flyin' +loose. + +Say, I'm a good deal of a come-on when it comes to the ranch business, +but I've seen enough to know that if any woman had showed up at +Merrity's place in that costume the cow punchers would have blushed +into their hats and took for the timber line. I looks at Hank, +expectin' to see him wearin' a grin; but he wa'n't. He's 'most tarin' +his eyes out, lookin' at them painted mountains and that four-piece log +cabin. And would you believe it, Mrs. Merrity was doin' the same! I +couldn't see that either of 'em moved durin' the whole act, or took +their eyes off that scenery, and when the curtain goes down they just +naturally reaches out and grips each other by the hand. For quite some +time they didn't say a word. Then Reney breaks the spell. + +"You noticed it, didn't you, Hank?" says she. + +"Couldn't help it, Reney!" says he huskily. + +"I expect the old place is looking awful nice, just about now," she +goes on. + +Hank was swallowin' hard just then, so all he could do was nod, and a +big drop of brine leaks out of one of them buttermilk blue eyes. Reney +saw it. + +"Hank," says she, still grippin' his hand and talkin' throaty--"let's +quit and go back!" + +Say, maybe you never heard one of them flannel shirts call the cows +home from the next county. A lot of folks who'd paid good money to +listen to a weak imitation was treated to the genuine article. + +"We-e-e-ough! Glory be!" yells Hank, jumpin' up and knockin' over a +chair. + +[Illustration: "WE--E--E--OUGH! GLORY BE!" YELLS HANK, LETTIN' OUT AN +EARSPLITTER] + +It was an ear splitter, that was. Inside of a minute there was a +special cop and four ushers makin' a rush for the back of our box. + +"Here, here now!" says one. "You'll have to leave." + +"Leave!" says Hank. "Why, gol durn you white faced tenderfeet, you +couldn't hold us here another minute with rawhide ropes! Come on, +Reney; maybe there's a night train!" + +They didn't go quite so sudden as all that. Reney got him to wait +until noon next day, so she could fire a few maids and send a bale or +so of Paris gowns to the second hand shop; but they made me sit up till +'most mornin' with 'em, while they planned out the kind of a ranch de +luxe they was goin' to build when they got back to Bedelia. As near as +I could come to it, there was goin' to be four Chinese cooks always +standin' ready to fry griddle cakes for any neighbours that might drop +in, a dance hall with a floor of polished mahogany, and not a bath tub +on the place. What they wanted was to get back among their old +friends, put on their old clothes, and enjoy themselves in their own +way for the rest of their lives. + + + + +X + +SHORTY AND THE STRAY + +Say, I don't know whether I'll ever get to be a reg'lar week-ender or +not, but I've been makin' another stab at it. What's the use ownin' +property in the country house belt if you don't use it now and then? +So last Saturday, after I shuts up the Studio, I scoots out to my place +in Primrose Park. + +Well, I puts in the afternoon with Dennis Whaley, who's head gardener +and farm superintendent, and everything else a three-acre plot will +stand for. Then, about supper time, as I'm just settlin' myself on the +front porch with my heels on the stoop rail, wonderin' how folks can +manage to live all the time where nothin' ever happens, I hears a +chug-chuggin', and up the drive rolls a cute little one-seater bubble, +with nobody aboard but a Boston terrier and a boy. + +"Chee!" thinks I, "they'll be givin' them gasolene carts to babies +next. Wonder what fetches the kid in here?" + +Maybe he was a big ten or a small twelve; anyway, he wa'n't more. He's +one of these fine haired, light complected youngsters, that a few years +ago would have had yellow Fauntleroy curls, and been rigged out in a +lace collar and a black velvet suit, and had a nurse to lead him around +by the hand. But the new crop of young Astergould Thickwads is bein' +trained on different lines. This kid was a good sample. His tow +coloured hair is just long enough to tousle nice, and he's bare headed +at that. Then he's got on corduroy knickers, a khaki jacket, black +leather leggin's, and gauntlet gloves, and he looks almost as healthy +as if he was poor. + +"Hello, youngster!" says I. "Did you lose the shuffer overboard?" + +"Beg pardon," says he; "but I drive my own machine." + +"Oh!" says I. "I might have known by the costume." + +By this time he's standin' up with his hand to his ear, squintin' out +through the trees to the main road, like he was listenin' for +somethin'. In a second he hears one of them big six-cylinder cars go +hummin' past, and it seems to be what he was waitin' for. + +"Goin' to stop, are you?" says I. + +"Thank you," says he, "I will stay a little while, if you don't mind," +and he proceeds to shut off the gasolene and climb out. The dog +follows him. + +"Givin' some one the slip?" says I. + +"Oh, no," says he real prompt. "I--I've been in a race, that's all." + +"Ye-e-es?" says I. "Had a start, didn't you?" + +"A little," says he. + +With that he sits down on the steps, snuggles the terrier up alongside +of him, and begins to look me and the place over careful, without +sayin' any more. Course, that ain't the way boys usually act, unless +they've got stage fright, and this one didn't seem at all shy. As near +as I could guess, he was thinkin' hard, so I let him take his time. I +figures out from his looks, and his showin' up in a runabout, that he's +come from some of them big country places near by, and that when he +gets ready he'll let out what he's after. Sure enough, pretty soon he +opens up. + +"Wouldn't you like to buy the machine, sir?" says he. + +"Selling out, are you?" says I. "Well, what's your askin' price for a +rig of that kind?" + +He sizes me up for a minute, and then sends out a feeler. "Would five +dollars be too much?" + +"No," says I, "I shouldn't call that a squeeze, providin' you threw in +the dog." + +He looks real worried then, and hugs the terrier up closer than ever. +"I couldn't sell Togo," says he. "You--you wouldn't want him too, +would you?" + +When I sees that it wouldn't take much more to get them big blue eyes +of his to leakin', I puts him easy on the dog question. "But what's +your idea of sellin' the bubble?" says I. + +"Why," says he, "I won't need it any longer. I'm going to be a +motorman on a trolley car." + +"That's a real swell job," says I. "But how will the folks at home +take it?" + +"The folks at home?" says he, lookin' me straight in the eye. "Why, +there aren't any. I haven't any home, you know." + +Honest, the way he passed out that whopper was worth watchin'. It was +done as cool and scientific as a real estate man takin' oath there +wa'n't a mosquito in the whole county. + +"Then you're just travelin' around loose, eh?" says I. "Where'd you +strike from to-day?" + +"Chicago," says he. + +"Do tell!" says I. "That's quite a day's run. You must have left +before breakfast." + +"I had breakfast early," says he. + +"Dinner in Buffalo?" says I. + +"I didn't stop for dinner," says he. + +"In that case--er--what's the name?" says I. + +"Mister Smith," says he. + +"Easy name to remember," says I. + +"Ye-e-es. I'd rather you called me Gerald, though," says he. + +"Good," says I. "Well, Gerald, seein' as you've made a long jump since +breakfast, what do you say to grubbin' up a little with me, eh?" + +That strikes him favourable, and as Mother Whaley is just bringin' in +the platter, we goes inside and sits down, Togo and all. He sure +didn't fall to like a half starved kid; but maybe that was because he +was so busy lookin' at Mrs. Whaley. She ain't much on the French maid +type, that's a fact. Her uniform is a checked apron over a faded red +wrapper, and she has a way of puggin' her hair up in a little knob that +makes her face look like one of the kind they cut out of a cocoanut. + +Gerald eyes her for a while; then he leans over to me and whispers, "Is +this the butler's night off?" + +"Yes," says I. "He has seven a week. This is one of 'em." + +After he's thought that over he grins. "I see," says he. "You means +you haven't a butler? Why, I thought everyone did." + +"There's a few of us struggles along without," says I. "We don't brag +about it, though. But where do you keep your butler now, Mr. Gerald?" + +That catches him with his guard down, and he begins to look mighty +puzzled. + +"Oh, come," says I, "you might's well own up. You've brought the +runaway act right down to the minute, son; but barrin' the details, +it's the same old game. I done the same when I was your age, only +instead of runnin' off in a thousand-dollar bubble, I sneaked into an +empty freight car." + +"Did you?" says he, his eyes openin' wide. "Was it nice, riding in the +freight car?" + +"Never had so much fun out of a car ride since," says I. "But I was on +the war path then. My outfit was a blank cartridge pistol, a scalpin' +knife hooked from the kitchen, and a couple of nickel lib'ries that +told all about Injun killin'. Don't lay out to slaughter any redskins, +do you?" + +He looks kind of weary, and shakes his head. + +"Well, runnin' a trolley car has its good points, I s'pose," says I; +"but I wouldn't tackle it for a year or so if I was you. You'd better +give me your 'phone number, and I'll ring up the folks, so they won't +be worryin' about you." + +But say, this Gerald boy, alias Mr. Smith, don't fall for any smooth +talk like that. He just sets his jaws hard and remarks, quiet like, "I +guess I'd better be going." + +"Where to?" says I. + +"New Haven ought to be a good place to sell the machine," says he. "I +can get a job there too." + +At that I goes to pumpin' him some more, and he starts in to hand out +the weirdest line of yarns I ever listened to. Maybe he wa'n't a very +skilful liar, but he was a willin' one. Quick as I'd tangle him up on +one story, he'd lie himself out and into another. He accounts for his +not havin' any home in half a dozen different ways, sometimes killin' +off his relations one by one, and then bunchin' 'em in a railroad wreck +or an earthquake. But he sticks to Chicago as the place where he lived +last, although the nearest he can get to the street number is by sayin' +it was somewhere near Central Park. + +"That happens to be in New York," says I. + +"There are two in Chicago," says he. + +"All right, Gerald," says I. "I give up. We'll let it go that you're +playin' a lone hand; but before you start out again you'd better get a +good night's rest here. What do you say?" + +He didn't need much urgin'; so we runs the bubble around into the +stable, and I tucks him and Togo away together in the spare bed. + +"Who's the little lad?" says Dennis to me. + +"For one thing," says I, "he's an honourary member of the Ananias Club. +If I can dig up any more information between now and mornin', Dennis, +I'll let you know." + +First I calls up two or three village police stations along the line; +but they hadn't had word of any stray kid. + +"That's funny," thinks I. "If he'd lived down in Hester-st., there'd +be four thousand cops huntin' him up by this time." + +But it wa'n't my cue to do the frettin'; so I lets things rest as they +are, only takin' a look at the kid before I turns in, to see that he +was safe. And say, that one look gets me all broke up; for when I +tiptoes in with the candle I finds that pink and white face of his all +streaked up with cryin', and he has one arm around Togo, like he +thought that terrier was all the friend he had left. + +Gee! but that makes me feel mean! Why, if I'd known he was goin' to +blubber himself to sleep that way, I'd hung around and cheered him up. +He'd been so brash about this runaway business, though, that I never +suspicioned he'd go to pieces the minute he was left alone. And they +look different when they're asleep, don't they? I guess I must have +put in the next two hours' wonderin' how it was that a nice, bright +youngster like that should come to quit home. If he'd come from some +tenement house, where it was a case of pop bein' on the island, and maw +rushin' the can and usin' the poker on him, you wouldn't think anything +of it. But here he has his bubble, and his high priced terrier, and +things like that, and yet he does the skip. Well, there wa'n't any +answer. + +Not hearin' him stirrin' when I gets up in the mornin', I makes up my +mind to let him snooze as long as he likes. So I has breakfast and +goes out front with the mornin' papers. It got to be after nine +o'clock, and I was just thinkin' of goin' up to see how he was gettin' +on, when I sees a big green tourin' car come dashin' down into the park +and turn into my front drive. There was a crowd in it; but, before I +can get up, out flips a stunnin' lookin' bunch of dry goods, all veils +and silk dust coat, and wants to know if I'm Shorty McCabe: which I +says I am. + +"Then you have my boy here, have you?" she shoots out. And, say, by +the suspicious way she looks at me, you'd thought I'd been breakin' +into some nursery. I'll admit she was a beaut, all right; but the hard +look I gets from them big black eyes didn't win me for a cent. + +"Maybe if I knew who you was, ma'am," says I, "we'd get along faster." + +That don't soothe her a bit. She gives me one glare, and then whirls +around and shouts to a couple of tough lookin' bruisers that was in the +car. + +"Quick!" she sings out. "Watch the rear and side doors. I'm sure he's +here." + +And the mugs pile out and proceed to plant themselves around the house. + +"Sa-a-ay," says I, "this begins to look excitin'. Is it a raid, or +what? Who are the husky boys?" + +"Those men are in my employ," says she. + +"Private sleut's?" says I. + +"They are," says she, "and if you'll give up the boy without any +trouble I will pay you just twice as much as you're getting to hide +him. I'm going to have him, anyway." + +"Well, well!" says I. + +And say, maybe you can guess by that time I was feelin' like it was a +warm day. If I'd had on a celluloid collar, it'd blown up. Inside of +ten seconds, I've shucked my coat and am mixin' it with the plug that's +guardin' the side door. The doin's was short and sweet. He's no +sooner slumped down to feel what's happened to his jaw than No. 2 come +up. He acts like he was ambitious to do damage, but the third punch +leaves him on the grass. Then I takes each of 'em by the ear, leads +'em out to the road, and gives 'em a little leather farewell to help +'em get under way. + +"Sorry to muss your hired help, ma'am," says I, comin' back to the +front stoop; "but this is one place in the country where private +detectives ain't wanted. And another thing, let's not have any more +talk about me bein' paid. If there's anyone here belongin' to you, you +can have him and welcome; but cut out the hold up business and the +graft conversation. Now again, what's the name?" + +She was so mad she was white around the lips; but she's one of the kind +that knows when she's up against it, too. "I am Mrs. Rutgers Greene," +says she. + +"Oh, yes," says I. "From down on the point?" + +"Mr. Greene lives at Orienta Point, I believe," says she. + +Now that was plain enough, wa'n't it? You wouldn't think I'd need +postin' on what they was sayin' at the clubs, after that. But these +high life break-aways are so common you can't keep track of all of 'em, +and she sprung it so offhand that I didn't more'n half tumble to what +she meant. + +"I suppose I may have Gerald now?" she goes on. + +"Sure," says I. "I'll bring him down." And as I skips up the stairs I +sings out, "Hey, Mr. Smith! Your maw's come for you!" + +There was nothin' doin', though. I knocks on the door, and calls +again. Next I goes in. And say, it wa'n't until I'd pawed over all +the clothes, and looked under the bed and into the closet, that I could +believe it. He must have got up at daylight, slipped down the back way +in his stockin' feet, and skipped. The note on the wash stand clinches +it. It was wrote kind of wobbly, and the spellin' was some streaked; +but there wa'n't any mistakin' what he meant. He was sorry he had to +tell so many whoppers, but he wa'n't ever goin' home any more, and he +was much obliged for my tip about the freight car. Maybe my jaw didn't +drop. + +"Thick head!" says I, catchin' sight of myself in the bureau glass. +"You would get humorous!" + +When I goes back down stairs I find Mrs. Greene pacin' the porch. +"Well?" says she. + +I throws up my hands. "Skipped," says I. + +"Do you mean to say he has gone?" she snaps. + +"That's the size of it," says I. + +"Then this is Rutgers's work. Oh, the beast!" and she begins stampin' +her foot and bitin' her lips. + +"That's where you're off," says I; "this is a case of----" + +But just then another big bubble comes dashin' up, with four men in it, +and the one that jumps out and joins us is the main stem of the fam'ly. +I could see that by the way the lady turns her back on him. He's a +clean cut, square jawed young feller, and by the narrow set of his eyes +and the sandy colour of his hair you could guess he might be some +obstinate when it came to an argument. But he begins calm enough. + +"I'm Rutgers Greene," says he, "and at the police station they told me +Gerald was here. I'll take charge of him, if you please." + +"Have you brought a bunch of sleut's too?" says I. + +He admits that he has. + +"Then chase 'em off the grounds before I has another mental typhoon," +says I. "Shoo 'em!" + +"If they're not needed," says he, "and you object to----" + +"I do," says I. + +So he has his machine run out to the road again. + +"Now," says I, "seein' as this is a family affair----" + +"I beg pardon," puts in Greene; "but you hardly understand the +situation. Mrs. Greene need not be consulted at all." + +"I've as much right to Gerald as you have!" says she, her eyes snappin' +like a trolley wheel on a wet night. + +"We will allow the courts to decide that point," says he, real frosty. + +"I don't want to butt in on any tender little domestic scene," says I; +"but if I was you two I'd find the kid first. He's been gone since +daylight." + +"Gone!" says Greene. "Where?" + +"There's no tellin' that," says I. "All I know is that when he left +here he was headed for the railroad track, meanin' to jump a freight +train and----" + +"The railroad!" squeals Mrs. Greene. "Oh, he'll be killed! Oh, +Gerald! Gerald!" + +Greene don't say a word, but he turns the colour of a slice of Swiss +cheese. + +"Oh, what can we do?" says the lady, wringin' her hands. + +"Any of them detectives of yours know the kid by sight?" says I. + +They didn't. Neither did Greene's bunch. They was both fresh lots. + +"Well," says I, "I'll own up that part of this is up to me, and I won't +feel right until I've made a try to find him. I'm goin' to start now, +and I don't know how long I'll be gone. From what I've seen I can +guess that this cottage will be a little small for you two; but if +you're anxious to hear the first returns, I'd advise you to stay right +here. So long!" + +And with that I grabs my hat and makes a dash out the back way, leavin' +'em standin' there back to back. I never tracked a runaway kid along a +railroad, and I hadn't much notion of how to start; but I makes for the +rock ballast just as though I had the plan all mapped out. + +The first place I came across was a switch tower, and I hadn't chinned +the operators three minutes before I gets on to the fact that an east +bound freight usually passed there about six in the mornin', and +generally stopped to drill on the siding just below. That was enough +to send me down the track; but there wa'n't any traces of the kid. + +"New Haven for me, then," says I, and by good luck I catches a local. +Maybe that was a comfortable ride, watchin' out of the rear window for +somethin' I was hopin' I wouldn't see! And when it was over I hunts up +the yard master and finds the freight I was lookin' for was just about +due. + +"Expectin' a consignment?" says he. + +"Yes," says I. "I'm a committee of one to receive a stray kid." + +"Oh, that's it, eh?" says he. "We get 'em 'most every week. I'll see +that you have a pass to overhaul the empties." + +After I'd peeked into about a dozen box cars, and dug up nothin' more +encouraging than a couple of boozy 'boes, I begun to think my +calculations was all wrong. I was just slidin' another door shut when +I notices a bundle of somethin' over in the far corner. I had half a +mind not to climb in; for it didn't look like anything alive, but I +takes a chance at it for luck, and the first thing I hears is a growl. +The next minute I has Togo by the collar and the kid up on my arm. It +was Gerald, all right, though he was that dirty and rumpled I hardly +knew him. + +He just groans and grabs hold of me like he was afraid I was goin' to +get away. Why, the poor little cuss was so beat out and scared I +couldn't get a word from him for half an hour. But after awhile I +coaxed him to sit up on a stool and have a bite to eat, and when I've +washed off some of the grime, and pulled out a few splinters from his +hands, we gets a train back. First off I thought I'd 'phone Mr. and +Mrs. Greene, but then I changes my mind. "Maybe it'll do 'em good to +wait," thinks I. + +We was half way back when Gerald looks up and says, "You won't take me +home, will you?" + +"What's the matter with home, kid?" says I. + +"Well," says he, and I could see by the struggle he was havin' with his +upper lip that it was comin' out hard, "mother says father isn't a nice +man, and father says I mustn't believe what she says at all, +and--and--I don't think I like either of them well enough to be their +little boy any more. I don't like being stolen so often, either." + +"Stolen!" says I. + +"Yes," says he. "You see, when I'm with father, mother is always +sending men to grab me up and take me off where she is. Then father +sends men to get me back, and--and I don't believe I've got any real +home any more. That's why I ran away. Wouldn't you?" + +"Kid," says I, "I ain't got a word to say." + +He was too tired and down in the mouth to do much conversing either. +All he wants is to curl up with his head against my shoulder and go to +sleep. After he wakes up from his nap he feels better, and when he +finds we're goin' back to my place he gets quite chipper. All the way +walkin' up from the station I tries to think of how it would be best to +break the news to him about the grand household scrap that was due to +be pulled off the minute we shows up. I couldn't do it, though, until +we'd got clear to the house. + +"Now, youngster," says I, "there's a little surprise on tap for you +here, I guess. You walk up soft and peek through the door." + +For a minute I thought maybe they'd cleared out, he was so still about +it, so I steps up to rubber, too. And there's Mr. and Mrs. Rutgers +Greene, sittin' on the sofa about as close as they could get, her +weepin' damp streaks down his shirt front, and him pattin' her back +hair gentle and lovin'. + +"Turn off the sprayer!" says I. "Here's the kid!" + +Well, we was all mixed up for the next few minutes. They hugs Gerald +both to once, and then they hugs each other, and if I hadn't ducked +just as I did I ain't sure what would have happened to me. When I +comes back, half an hour later, all I needs is one glance to see that a +lot of private sleut's and court lawyers is out of a job. + +"Shorty," says Greene, givin' me the hearty grip, "I don't know how I'm +ever goin' to----" + +"Ah, lose it!" says I. "It was just by a fluke I got on the job, +anyway. That's a great kid of yours, eh?" + +Did I say anything about Primrose Park bein' a place where nothin' ever +happened? Well, you can scratch that. + + + + +XI + +WHEN ROSSITER CUT LOOSE + +As a general thing I don't go much on looks, but I will say that I've +seen handsomer specimens than Rossiter. He's got good height, and +plenty of reach, with legs branchin' out just under his armpits--you +know how them clothespin fellers are built--but when you finish out the +combination with pop eyes and a couple of overhangin' front teeth-- +Well, what's the use? Rossy don't travel on his shape. He don't have +to, with popper bossin' a couple of trunk lines. + +When he first begun comin' to the Studio I sized him up for a soft +boiled, and wondered how he could stray around town alone without +havin' his shell cracked. Took me some time, too, before I fell to the +fact that Rossy was wiser'n he looked; but at that he wa'n't no +knowledge trust. + +Just bein' good natured was Rossy's long suit. Course, he couldn't +help grinnin'; his mouth is cut that way. There wa'n't any mistakin' +the look in them wide set eyes of his, though. That was the real +article, the genuine I'll-stand-for-anything kind. Say, you could +spring any sort of a josh on Rossy, and he wouldn't squeal. He was one +of your shy violets, too. Mostly he played a thinkin' part, and when +he did talk, he didn't say much. After you got to know 'him real well, +though, and was used to the way he looked, you couldn't help likin' +Rossiter. I'd had both him and the old man as reg'lars for two or +three months, and it's natural I was more or less chummy with them. + +So when Rossy shows up here the other mornin' and shoves out his +proposition to me, I don't think nothin' of it. + +"Shorty," says he, kind of flushin' up, "I've got a favour to ask of +you." + +"You're welcome to use all I've got in the bank," says I. + +"It isn't money," says he, growin' pinker. + +"Oh!" says I, like I was a lot surprised. "Your usin' the touch +preamble made me think it was. What's the go?" + +"I--I can't tell you just now," says he; "but I'd like your assistance +in a little affair, about eight o'clock this evening. Where can I find +you?" + +"Sounds mysterious," says I. "You ain't goin' up against any Canfield +game; are you?" + +"Oh, I assure----" he begins. + +"That's enough," says I, and I names the particular spot I'll be +decoratin' at that hour. + +"You won't fail?" says he, anxious. + +"Not unless an ambulance gets me," says I. + +Well, I didn't go around battin' my head all the rest of the day, +tryin' to think out what it was Rossiter had on the card. Somehow he +ain't the kind you'd look for any hot stunts from. If I'd made a +guess, maybe I'd said he wanted me to take him and a college chum down +to a chop suey joint for an orgy on li-chee nuts an' weak tea. + +So I wa'n't fidgetin' any that evenin', as I holds up the corner of +42nd-st., passin' the time of day with the Rounds, and watchin' the +Harlem folks streak by to the roof gardens. Right on the tick a hansom +fetches up at the curb, and I sees Rossiter givin' me the wig-wag to +jump in. + +"You're runnin' on sked," says I. "Where to now?" + +"I think your Studio would be the best place," says he, "if you don't +mind." + +I said I didn't, and away we goes around the corner. As we does the +turn I sees another cab make a wild dash to get in front, and, takin' a +peek through the back window, I spots a second one followin'. + +"Are we part of a procession?" says I, pointin' 'em out to him. + +He only grins and looks kind of sheepish. "That's the regular thing +nowadays," says he. + +"What! Tin badgers?" says I. + +He nods. "They made me rather nervous at first," he says; "but after +I'd been shadowed for a week or so I got used to it, and lately I've +got so I would feel lost without them. To-night, though, they're +rather a nuisance. I thought you might help me to throw them off the +track." + +"But who set 'em on?" says I. + +"Oh, it's father, I suppose," says he; not grouchy mind you, but kind +of tired. + +"Why, Rossy!" says I. "I didn't think you was the sort that called for +P. D. reports." + +"I'm not," says he. "That's just father's way, you know, when he +suspects anything is going on that he hasn't been told about. He runs +his business that way--has a big force looking into things all the +time. And maybe some of them weren't busy; so he told them to look +after me." + +Well say! I've heard some tough things about the old man, but I never +thought he'd carry a thing that far. Why, there ain't any more +sportin' blood in Rossiter than you'd look for in a ribbon clerk. +Outside of the little ladylike boxin' that he does with me, as a liver +regulator, the most excitin' fad of his I ever heard of was collectin' +picture postals. + +Now, I generally fights shy of mixin' up in family affairs, but someway +or other I just ached to take a hand in this. "Rossy," says I, "you're +dead anxious to hand the lemon to them two sleut's; are you?" + +He said he was. + +"And your game's all on the straight after that, is it?" I says. + +"'Pon my honour, it is," says he. + +"Then count me in," says I. "I ain't never had any love for them sneak +detectives, and here's where I gives 'em a whirl." + +But say, they're a slippery bunch. They must have known just where we +was headin', for by the time we lands on the sidewalk in front of the +physical culture parlours, the man in the leadin' cab has jumped out +and faded. + +"He will be watching on the floor above," says Rossiter, "and the other +one will stay below." + +"That's the way they work it, eh?" says I. "Good! Come on in without +lookin' around or lettin' 'em know you're on." + +We goes up to the second floor and turns on the glim in the front +office. Then I puts on a pair of gym. shoes, opens the door easy, and +tiptoes down the stairs. He was just where I thought he'd be, coverin' +up in the shade of the vestibule. + +"Caught with the goods on!" says I, reachin' out and gettin' a good +grip on his neck. "No you don't! No gun play in this!" and I gives +his wrist a crack with my knuckles that puts his shootin' arm out of +business. + +"You're makin' a mistake," says he. "I'm a private detective." + +"You're a third rate yegg," says I, "and you've been nipped tryin' to +pinch a rubber door mat." + +"Here's my badge," says he. + +"Anybody can buy things like that at a hock shop," says I. "You come +along up stairs till I see whether or no it's worth while ringin' up a +cop." + +He didn't want to visit, not a little bit, but I was behind, persuadin' +him with my knee, and up he goes. + +"Look at what the sneak thief business is comin' to," says I, standin' +him under the bunch light where Rossiter could get a good look at him. +He was a shifty eyed low brow that you wouldn't trust alone in a room +with a hot quarter. + +"My name is McGilty," says he. + +"Even if it wa'n't, you could never prove an alibi with that face," +says I. + +"If this young gent'll 'phone to his father," he goes on, "he'll find +that I'm all right." + +"Don't you want us to call up Teddy at Oyster Bay? Or send for your +old friend Bishop Potter? Ah, say, don't I look like I could buy fly +paper without gettin' stuck? Sit down there and rest your face and +hands." + +With that I chucks him into a chair, grabs up a hunk of window cord +that I has for the chest weights, and proceeds to do the bundle +wrapping act on him. Course, he does a lot of talkin', tellin' of the +things that'll happen to me if I don't let him go right off. + +"I'll cheerfully pay all the expenses of a damage suit, or fines, +Shorty," says Rossiter. + +"Forget it!" says I. "There won't be anything of the sort. He's +lettin' off a little hot air, that's all. Keep your eye on him while I +goes after the other one." + +I collared Number Two squattin' on the skylight stairs. For a minute +or so he put up a nice little muss, but after I'd handed him a swift +one on the jaw he forgot all about fightin' back. + +"Attempted larceny of a tarred roof for yours," says I. "Come down +till I give you the third degree." + +He didn't have a word to say; just held onto his face and looked ugly. +I tied him up same's I had the other and set 'em face to face, where +they could see how pretty they looked. Then I led Rossiter down stairs. + +"Now run along and enjoy yourself," says I. "That pair'll do no more +sleut'in' for awhile. I'll keep 'em half an hour, anyway, before I +throws 'em out in the street." + +"I'm awfully obliged, Shorty," says he. + +"Don't mention it," says I. "It's been a pleasure."' + +That was no dream, either. Say, it did me most as much good as a trip +to Coney, stringin' them trussed up keyhole gazers. + +"Your names'll look nice in the paper," says I, "and when your cases +come up at Special Sessions maybe your friends'll all have reserved +seats. Sweet pair of pigeon toed junk collectors, you are!" + +If they wa'n't sick of the trailin' business before I turned 'em loose, +it wa'n't my fault. From the remarks they made as they went down the +stairs I suspicioned they was some sore on me. But now and then I runs +across folks that I'm kind of proud to have feel that way. Private +detectives is in that class. + +I was still on the grin, and thinkin' how real cute I'd been, when I +hears heavy steps on the stairs, and in blows Rossiter's old man, short +of breath and wall eyed. + +"Where's he gone?" says he. + +"Which one?" says I. + +"Why, that fool boy of mine!" says the old man. "I've just had word +that he was here less than an hour ago." + +"You got a straight tip," says I. + +"Well, where did he go from here?" says he. + +"I'm a poor guesser," says I, "and he didn't leave any word; but if you +was to ask my opinion, I'd say that most likely he was behavin' +himself, wherever he was." + +"Huh!" growls the old man. "That shows how little you know about him. +He's off being married, probably to some yellow haired chorus girl; +that's where he is!" + +"What! Rossy?" says I. + +Honest, I thought the old man must have gone batty; but when he tells +me the whole yarn I begins to feel like I'd swallowed a foolish powder. +Seems that Rossiter's mother had been noticin' symptoms in him for some +time; but they hadn't nailed anything until that evenin', when the +chump butler turns in a note that he shouldn't have let go of until +next mornin'. It was from Rossiter, and says as how, by the time she +reads that, he'll have gone and done it. + +"But how do you figure out that he's picked a squab for his'n?" says I. + +"Because they're the kind that would be most likely to trap a young +chuckle head like Rossiter," says the old man. "It's what I've been +afraid of for a long time. Who else would be likely to marry him? +Come! you don't imagine I think he's an Apollo, just because he's my +son, do you? And don't you suppose I've found out, in all these years, +that he hasn't sense enough to pound sand? But I can't stay here. +I've got to try and stop it, before it's too late. If you think you +can be of any help, you can come along." + +Well say, I didn't see how I'd fit into a hunt of that kind; and as for +knowin' what to do, I hadn't a thought in my head just then; but seein' +as how I'd butted in, it didn't seem no more'n right that I should stay +with the game. So I tags along, and we climbs into the old man's +electric cab. + +"We'll go to Dr. Piecrust's first, and see if he's there," says he, +"that being our church." + +Well, he wa'n't. And they hadn't seen him at another minister's that +the old man said Rossy knew. + +"If she was an actorine," says I, "she'd be apt to steer him to the +place where they has most of their splicin' done. Why not try there?" + +"Good idea!" says he, and we lights out hot foot for the Little Church +Around the Corner. + +And say! Talk about your long shots! As we piles out what should I +see but the carrotty topped night hawk that'd had Rossy and me for +fares earlier in the evenin'. + +"You're a winner," says I to the old man. "It's a case of waitin' at +the church. Ten to one you'll find Rossiter inside." + +It was a cinch. Rossy was the first one we saw as we got into the +anteroom. + +It wa'n't what you'd call a real affectionate meetin'. The old man +steps up and eyes him for a minute, like a dyspeptic lookin' at a piece +of overdone steak in a restaurant, and then he remarks: "What blasted +nonsense is this, sir?" + +"Why," says Rossy, shiftin' from one foot to the other, and grinnin' +foolisher'n I ever saw him grin before--"why, I just thought I'd get +married, that's all." + +"That's all, eh?" says the old man, and you could have filed a saw with +his voice. "Sort of a happy inspiration of the moment, was it?" + +"Well," says Rossy, "not--not exactly that. I'd been thinking of it +for some time, sir." + +"The deuce you say!" says the old man. + +"I--I didn't think you'd object," says Rossy. + +"Wow!" says the old man. He'd been holdin' in a long spell, for him, +but then he just boiled over. "See here, you young rascal!" says he. +"What do you mean by talking that way to me? Didn't think I'd object! +D'ye suppose I'm anxious to have all New York know that my son's been +made a fool of? Think your mother and I are aching to have one of +these bleached hair chorus girls in the family? Got her inside there, +have you?" + +"Yes, sir," says Rossy. + +"Well, bring her out here!" says the old man. "I've got something to +say to her." + +"All right, sir," says Rossy. If there ever was a time for throwin' +the hooks into a parent, it was then. But he's as good humoured and +quiet about it as though he'd just been handed a piece of peach pie. +"I'll bring her right out," says he. + +When he comes in with the lady, the old man takes one look at her and +almost loses his breath for good. + +"Eunice May Ogden!" says he. "Why--why on earth didn't you say so +before, Rossy?" + +"Oh, hush!" says the lady. "Do be still! Can't you see that we're +right in the middle of an elopement?" + +Never saw Eunice May, did you? Well, that's what you miss by not +travellin' around with the swells, same as me. I had seen her. And +say, she's somethin' of a sight, too! She's a prize pumpkin, Eunice +is. Maybe she's some less'n seven feet in her lisle threads, but she +looks every inch of it; and when it comes to curves, she has Lillian +Russell pared to a lamp post. She'd be a good enough looker if she +wa'n't such a whale. As twins, she'd be a pair of beauts, but the way +she stands, she's most too much of a good thing. + +Pinckney says they call her the Ogden sinking fund among his crowd. +I've heard 'em say that old man Ogden, who's a little, dried up runt of +about five feet nothin', has never got over bein' surprised at the size +Eunice has growed to. When she was about fourteen and weighed only a +hundred and ninety odd, he and Mother Ogden figured a lot on marryin' +Eunice into the House of Lords, like they did her sister, but they gave +all that up when she topped the two hundred mark. + +Standin' there with Rossiter, they loomed up like a dime museum couple; +but they was lookin' happy, and gazin' at each other in that mushy +way--you know how. + +"Say," says Rossiter's old man, sizin' 'em up careful, "is it all true? +Do you think as much of one another as all that?" + +There wa'n't any need of their sayin' so; but Rossy speaks up prompt +for the only time in his life. He told how they'd been spoons on each +other for more'n a year, but hadn't dared let on because they was +afraid of bein' kidded. It was the same way about gettin' married. +Course, their bein' neighbours on the avenue, and all that, he must +have known that the folks on either side wouldn't kick, but neither one +of 'em had the nerve to stand for a big weddin', so they just made up +their minds to slide off easy and have it all through before anyone had +a chance to give 'em the jolly. + +"But now that you've found it out," says Rossiter, "I suppose you'll +want us to wait and----" + +"Wait nothing!" says the old man, jammin' on his hat. "Don't you wait +a minute on my account. Go ahead with your elopement. I'll clear out. +I'll go up to the club and find Ogden, and when you have had the knot +tied good and fast, you come home and receive a double barrelled +blessing." + +About that time the minister that they'd been waitin' for shows up, and +before I knows it I've been rung in. Well, say, it was my first whack +playin' back stop at a weddin', and perhaps I put up a punk +performance; but inside of half an hour the job was done. + +And of all the happy reunions I was ever lugged into, it was when +Rossiter's folks and the Ogdens got together afterwards. They were so +tickled to get them two freak left overs off their hands that they +almost adopted me into both families, just for the little stunt I did +in bilkin' them P. D.'s. + + + + +XII + +TWO ROUNDS WITH SYLVIE + +If it hadn't been for givin' Chester a show to make a gallery play, you +wouldn't have caught me takin' a bite out of the quince, the way I did +the other night. But say, when a young sport has spent the best part +of a year learnin' swings and ducks and footwork, and when fancy +boxin's about all the stunt he's got on his program, it's no more'n +right he should give an exhibition, specially if that's what he aches +to do. And Chester did have that kind of a longin'. + +"Who are you plannin' to have in the audience, Chetty?" says I. + +"Why," says he, "there'll be three or four of the fellows up, and maybe +some of the crowd that mother's invited will drop in too." + +"Miss Angelica likely to be in the bunch?" says I. + +Chester pinks up at that and tries to make out he hadn't thought +anything about Angelica's bein' there at all. But I'd heard a lot +about this particular young lady, and when I sees the colour on Chester +his plan was as clear as if the entries was posted on a board. + +"All right, Chetty," says I; "have it any way you say. I'll be up +early Saturday night." + +So that's what I was doin' in the smoker on the five-nine, with my gym. +suit and gaslight clothes in a kit bag up on the rack. Just as they +shuts the gates and gives the word to pull out, in strolls the last man +aboard and piles in alongside of me. I wouldn't have noticed him +special if he hadn't squinted at the ticket I'd stuck in the seat back, +and asked if I was goin' to get off at that station. + +"I was thinkin' some of it when I paid my fare," says I. + +"Ah!" says he, kind of gentle and blinkin' his eyes. "That is my +station, too. Might I trouble you to remind me of the fact when we +arrive?" + +"Sure," says I; "I'll wake you up." + +He gives me another blink, pulls a little readin' book out of his +pocket, slumps down into the seat, and proceeds to act like he'd gone +into a trance. + +Say, I didn't need more'n one glimpse to size him up for a freak. The +Angora haircut was tag enough--reg'lar Elbert Hubbard thatch he was +wearin', all fluffy and wavy, and just clearin' his coat collar. That +and the artist's necktie, not to mention the eye glasses with the +tortoise shell rims, put him in the self advertisin' class without his +sayin' a word. + +Outside of the frills, he wa'n't a bad lookin' chap, and sizable enough +for a 'longshoreman, only you could tell by the lily white hands and +the long fingernails that him and toil never got within speakin' +distance. + +"Wonder what particular brand of mollycoddle he is?" thinks I. + +Now there wa'n't any call for me to put him through the catechism, just +because he was headed for the same town I was; but somehow I had an +itch to take a rise out of him. So I leans over and gets a peek at the +book. + +"Readin' po'try, eh?" says I, swallowin' a grin. + +"Beg pardon?" says he, kind of shakin' himself together. "Yes, this is +poetry--Swinburne, you know," and he slumps down again as if he'd said +all there was to say. + +But when I starts out to be sociable you can't head me off that way. +"Like it?" says I. + +"Why, yes," says he, "very much, indeed. Don't you?" + +He thought he had me corked there; but I comes right back at him. +"Nix!" says I. "Swinny's stuff always hit me as bein' kind of punk." + +"Really!" says he, liftin' his eyebrows. "Perhaps you have been +unfortunate in your selections. Now take this, from the Anactoria----" + +And say, I got what was comin' to me then. He tears off two or three +yards of it, all about moonlight and stars and kissin' and lovin', and +a lot of gush like that. Honest, it would give you an ache under your +vest! + +"There!" says he. "Isn't that beautiful imagery?" + +"Maybe," says I. "Guess I never happened to light on that part before." + +"But surely you are familiar with his Madonna Mia?" says he. + +"That got past me too," says I. + +"It's here," says he, speakin' up quick. "Wait. Ah, this is it!" and +hanged if he don't give me another dose, with more love in it than you +could get in a bushel of valentines, and about as much sense as if he'd +been readin' the dictionary backwards. He does it well, though, just +as if it all meant something; and me settin' there listenin' until I +felt like I'd been doped. + +"Say, I take it all back," says I when he lets up. "That Swinny chap +maybe ain't quite up to Wallace Irwin; but he's got Ella Wheeler pushed +through the ropes. I've got to see a friend in the baggage car, +though, and if you'll let me climb out past I'll speak to the brakeman +about puttin' you off where you belong." + +"You're very kind," says he. "Regret you can't stay longer." + +Was that a josh, or what? Anyway, I figures I'm gettin' off easy, for +there was a lot more of that blamed book he might have pumped into me +if I hadn't ducked. + +"Never again!" says I to myself. "Next time I gets curious I'll keep +my mouth shut." + +I wa'n't takin' any chances of his holdin' me up on the station +platform when we got off, either. I was the first man to swing from +the steps, and I makes a bee line for the road leadin' out towards +Chester's place, not stoppin' for a hack. Pretty soon who should come +drivin' after me but Curlylocks. He still has his book open, though; +so he gets by without spottin' me, and I draws a long breath. + +By the time I'd hoofed over the two miles between the stations and +where Chester lives I'd done a lot of breathin'. It was quite some of +a place to get to, one of these new-model houses, that wears the +plasterin' on the outside and has a roof made of fancy drain pipe. +It's balanced right on the edge of the rocks, with the whole of Long +Island sound for a back yard and more'n a dozen acres of private park +between it and the road. + +"Gee!" says I to Chester, "I should think this would be as lonesome as +livin' in a lighthouse." + +"Not with the mob that mother usually has around," says he. + +If the attendance that night was a sample, I guess he was right; for +the bunch that answers the dinner gong would have done credit to a +summer hotel. Seems that Chester's old man had been a sour, unsociable +old party in his day, keepin' the fam'ly shut up in a thirty-foot-front +city house that was about as cheerful as a tomb, and havin' comp'ny to +dinner reg'lar once a year. + +But when he finally quit breathin', and the lawyers had pried the +checkbook out of his grip, mother had sailed in to make up for lost +time. It wasn't bridge and pink teas. She'd always had a hankerin' +for minglin' with the high brows, and it was them she went gunnin' +for,--anything from a college president down to lady novelists. +Anybody that could paint a prize picture, or break into print in the +thirty-five-cent magazines, or get his name up as havin' put the scoop +net over a new germ, could win a week of first class board from her by +just sendin' in his card. + +But it was tough on Chester, havin' that kind of a gang around all the +time, clutterin' up the front hall with their extension grips and +droppin' polysyllables in the soup. Chetty's brow was a low cut. +Maybe he had a full set of brains; but he hadn't ever had to work 'em +overtime, and he didn't seem anxious to try. About all the heavy +thinkin' he did was when he was orderin' lunch at the club. But he was +a big, full blooded, good natured young feller, and with the exercise +he got around to the Studio he kept in pretty good trim. + +How he ever come to get stuck on a girl like Angelica, though, was +more'n I could account for. She's one of these slim, big eyed, +breathless, gushy sort of females; the kind that tends out on picture +shows, and piano recitals, and Hindu lectures. Chester seems to have a +bad case of it, though. + +"Is she on hand to-night, Chetty?" says I. + +He owns up that she was. "And say, Shorty," says he, "I want you to +meet her. Come on, now. I've told her a lot about you." + +"That bein' the case," says I, "here's where Angelica gets a treat," +and we starts out to hunt for her, Chester's plan bein' to make me the +excuse for the boxin' exhibit. + +But Angelica didn't seem to be so easy to locate. First we strikes the +music room, where a heavy weight gent lately come over from Warsaw is +tearin' a thunder storm out of the southwest corner of the piano. + +The room was full of folks; but nary sign of the girl with the eyes. +Nor she wa'n't in the libr'y, where a four-eyed duck with a crop of +rusty chin spinach was gassin' away about the sun spots, or something. +Say, there was 'most any kind of brain stimulation you could name bein' +handed out in diff'rent parts of that house; but Angelica wa'n't to any +of 'em. + +It was just by accident, as we was takin' a turn around one of the +verandas facin' the water, that, we runs across a couple camped down in +a corner seat under a big palm. The girl in pink radium silk was +Angelica. And say, by moonlight she's a bunch' of honeysuckle! The +other party was our old friend Curlylocks, and I has to grin at the +easy way he has of pickin' out the best looker in sight and leadin' her +off where she wouldn't have to listen to anybody but him. He has the +po'try tap turned on full blast, and the girl is listenin' as pleased +as if she had never heard anything better in her life. + +[Illustration: HE HAS THE PO'TRY TAP TURNED ON FULL BLAST] + +"Confound him!" says Chester under his breath. "He's here again, is +he?" + +"Looks like this part of the house was gettin' crowded, Chetty," says +I. "Let's back out." + +"Hanged if I do!" says he, and proceeds to do the butt in act about as +gentle as a truck horse boltin' through a show window. "Oh, you're +here, Angelica!" he growls out. "I've been hunting all over the shop +for you." + +"S-s-sh!" says Angelica, holding up one finger and him off with the +other hand. + +"Yes, I see," says Chester; "but----" + +"Oh, please run away and don't bother!" says she. "That's a good boy, +now Chester." + +"Oh, darn!" says Chester. + +That was the best he could do too, for they don't even wait to see us +start. Angelica gives us a fine view of her back hair, and Mr. +Curlylocks begins where he left off, and spiels away. It was a good +deal the same kind of rot he had shoved at me on the train,--all about +hearts and lovin' and so on,--only here he throws in business with the +eyelashes, and seems to have pulled out the soft vocal stops. + +Chester stands by for a minute, tryin' to look holes through 'em, and +then he lets me lead him off. + +"Now what do you think of that?" says he, makin' a face like he'd +tasted something that had been too long in the can. + +"Why," says I, "it's touchin', if true. Who's the home destroyer with +the vaseline voice and the fuzzy nut?" + +"He calls himself Sylvan Vickers," says Chester. "He's a poet--a +sappy, slushy, milk and water poet. Writes stuff about birds and +flowers and love, and goes around spouting it to women." + +"Why," says I, "he peeled off a few strips for me, comin' up on the +cars, and I though it was hot stuff." + +"Honest, Shorty," says Chester, swallowin' the string as fast as I +could unwind the ball, "you--you don't like that kind of guff, do you?" + +"Oh, well," says I, "I don't wake up in the night and cry for it, and +maybe I can worry along for the next century or so without hearin' any +more; but he's sure found some one that does like it, eh?" + +There's no sayin' but what Chester held himself in well; for if ever a +man was entitled to a grouch, it was him. But he says mighty little, +just walks off scowlin' and settin' his teeth hard. I knew what was +good for that; so I hints that he round up his chappies and go down +into the gym. to work it off. + +Chetty's enthusiasm for mitt jugglin' has all petered out, though, and +it's some time before I can make him see it my way. Then we has to +find his crowd, that was scattered around in the different rooms, +lonesome and tired; so it's late in the evenin' before we got under way. + +Chester and me have had a round or so, and he'd just wore out one of +his friends and was tryin' to tease somebody else to put 'em on, when I +spots a rubber neck in the back of the hall. + +"O-o-h, see who's here, Chetty!" says I, whisperin' over his shoulder. + +It was our poet friend, that has had to give up Angelica to her maw. +He's been strayin' around loose, and has wandered in through the gym. +doors by luck. Now, Chester may not have any mighty intellect, but +there's times when he can think as quick as the next one. He takes one +glance at Curlylocks, and stiffens like a bird dog pointin' a partridge. + +"Say," says he all excited, "do you suppose--could we get him to put +them on?" + +"Not if you showed you was so anxious as all that," says I. + +"Then you ask him, Shorty," he whispers. "I'll give a hundred for just +one round--two hundred." + +"S-s-sh!" says I. "Take it easy." + +Ever see an old lady tryin' to shoo a rooster into a fence corner, +while the old man waited around the end of the woodshed with the axe? +You know how gentle and easy the trick has to be worked? Well, that +was me explainin' to Curlylocks how we was havin' a little exercise +with the kid pillows,--oh, just a little harmless tappin' back and +forth, so's we could sleep well afterwards,--and didn't he feel like +tryin' it for a minute with Chester? Smooth! Some of that talk of +mine would have greased an axle. + +Sylvie, old boy, he blinks at me through his glasses, like a poll +parrot sizin' up a firecracker that little Jimmy wants to hand him. He +don't say anything, but he seems some interested. He reaches out for +one of the mitts and pokes a finger into the paddin', lookin' it over +as if it was some kind of a curiosity. + +"Reg'lar swan's down cushions," says I. + +"Like to have you try a round or so, Vickers," puts in Chester, as +careless as he could. "Professor McCabe will show you how to put them +on." + +"Ah, really?" says Curlylocks. Then he has to step up and inspect +Chester's frame up. + +"That's the finish!" thinks I; for Chetty's a well built boy, good and +bunchy around the shoulders, and when he peels down to a sleeveless +jersey he looks 'most as wicked as Sharkey. But, just as we're +expectin' Curlylocks to show how wise he was, he throws out a bluff +that leaves us gaspin' for breath. + +"Do you know," says he, "if I was in the mood for that sort of thing, +I'd be charmed; but--er----" + +"Oh, fudge!" says Chetty. "I expect you'd rather recite us some +poetry?" And at that one of Chester's chums snickers right out. +Sylvie flushes up like some one had slapped him on the wrist. + +"Beg pardon," says he; "but I believe I will try it for a little +while," and he holds out his paws for me to slip on the gloves. + +"Better shed the parlour clothes," says I. "You're liable to get 'em +dusty," which last tickles the audience a lot. + +He didn't want to peel off even his Tuxedo; but jollies him into +lettin' go of it, and partin' with his collar and white tie and eye +glasses too. That was as far as he'd go, though. + +Course, it was kind of a low down game to put up on anybody; but +Curlylocks wa'n't outclassed any in height, nor much in weight; and, +seein' as how he'd kind of laid himself open to something of the sort, +I didn't feel as bad as I might. All the time, Chester was tryin' to +keep the grin off his face, and his chums was most wearin' their elbows +out nudgin' each other. + +"Now," says I, when I've got Curlylocks ready for the slaughter, +"what'll it be--two-minute rounds?" + +"Quite satisfactory," says Sylvie; and Chetty nods. + +"Then let 'er go!" says I, steppin' back. + +One thing I've always coached Chester on, was openin' lively. It don't +make any difference whether the mitts are hard or soft, whether it's a +go to a finish or a private bout for fun, there's no sense in wastin' +the first sixty seconds in stirrin' up the air. The thing to do is to +bore in. And Chester didn't need any urgin'. He cuts loose with both +bunches, landin' a right on the ribs and pokin' the left into the +middle of Sylvie's map; so sudden that Mr. Poet heaves up a grunt way +from his socks. + +"Ah, string it out, Chetty," says I. "String it out, so's it'll last +longer." + +But he's like a hungry kid with a hokypoky sandwich,--he wants to take +it all at one bite. And maybe if I'd been as much gone on Angelica as +he was, and had been put on a siding for this moonlight po'try +business, I'd been just as anxious. So he wades in again with as fine +a set of half arm jolts as he has in stock. + +By this time Sylvie has got his guard up proper, and is coverin' +himself almost as good as if he knew how. He does it a little awkward; +but somehow, Chetty couldn't seem to get through. + +"Give him the cross hook!" sings out one of the boys. + +Chester tries, but it didn't work. Then he springs another rush, and +they goes around like a couple of pinwheels, with nothin' gettin' +punished but the gloves. + +"Time!" says I, and leads Sylvie over to a chair. He was puffin' some, +but outside of that he was as good as new. "Good blockin', old man," +says I. "You're doin' fine. Keep that up and you'll be all right." + +"Think so?" says he, reachin' for the towel. + +The second spasm starts off different. Curlylocks seems to be more +awake than he was, and the first thing we knows he's fiddlin' for an +openin' in the good old fashioned way. + +"And there's where you lose out, son," thinks I. + +I hadn't got through thinkin' before things begun happenin'. Sylvie +seems to unlimber from the waist up, and his arms acted like he'd let +out an extra link in 'em. Funny I hadn't noticed that reach of his +before. For a second or so he only steps around Chester, shootin' out +first one glove and then the other, and plantin' little love pats on +different parts of him, as if he was locatin' the right spots. + +Chetty don't like havin' his bumps felt of that way, and comes back +with a left swing followed by an upper cut. They was both a little +wild, and they didn't connect. That wa'n't the worst of it, though. +Before he's through with that foolishness Sylvie turns them long arms +of his into a rapid fire battery, and his mitts begin to touch up them +spots he's picked out at the rate of about a hundred bull's eyes to the +minute. It was bing--bing--bing--biff!--with Chetty's arms swingin' +wide, and his block rockin', and his breath comin' short, and his knees +gettin' as wabbly as a new boy speakin' a piece. Before I can call the +round Curlylocks has put the steam into a jaw punch that sends Chester +to the mat as hard as though he'd been dropped out of a window. + +"Is--is it all over?" says Chetty when he comes to, a couple of minutes +later. + +"If you leave it to me," says I, "I should say it was; unless Mr. +What's-his-name here wants to try that same bunch of tricks on me. How +about it?" + +"Much obliged, professor," says Curlylocks, givin' a last hitch to his +white tie; "but I've seen you in the ring." + +"Well," says I, "I've heard you recite po'try; so we're even. But say, +you make a whole lot better showin' in my line than I would in yours, +and if you ever need a backer in either, just call on me." + +We shakes hands on that; and then Chetty comes to the front, man +fashion, with his flipper out, too. That starts the reunion, and when +I leaves 'em, about one A. M., the Scotch and ginger ale tide was +runnin' out fast. + +How about Angelica? Ah, say, next mornin' there shows up a younger, +fresher, gushier one than she is, and inside of half an hour her and +Curlylocks is close together on a bench, and he's got the little book +out again. Angelica pines in the background for about three minutes +before Chester comes around with the tourin' car, and the last I see of +'em they was snuggled up together in the back of the tonneau. So I +guess Chetty don't need much sympathisin' with, even if he was passed a +couple of lime drops. + + + + +XIII + +GIVING BOMBAZOULA THE HOOK + +Maybe I was tellin' you something about them two rockin' chair +commodores from the yacht club, that I've got on my reg'lar list? +They're some of Pinckney's crowd, you know, and that's just as good as +sayin' they're more ornamental than useful. Anyway, that description's +a close fit for Purdy. + +First off I couldn't stand for Purdy at all. He's one of these natty, +band box chappies, with straw coloured hair slicked down as smooth as +if he'd just come up from a dive, and a costume that looks as if it +might have been copied from a stained glass window. You've seen them +symphonies in greys and browns, with everything matched up, from their +shirt studs to their shoes buttons? Now, I don't mind a man's bein' a +swell dresser--I've got a few hot vests myself--but this tryin' to be a +Mr. Pastelle is runnin' the thing into the ground. + +Purdy could stand all the improvin' the tailor could hand him, though. +His eyes was popped just enough to give him a continual surprised look, +and there was more or less of his face laid out in nose. Course, he +wa'n't to blame for that; but just the same, when he gets to comin' to +the Studio twice a week for glove work and the chest weights, I passes +him over to Swifty Joe. Honest, I couldn't trust myself to hit around +that nose proper. But Swifty uses him right. Them clothes of Purdy's +had got Swifty goin', and he wouldn't have mussed him for a farm. + +After I'd got used to seein' Purdy around, I didn't mind him so much +myself. He seemed to be a well meanin', quiet, sisterly sort of a +duck, one of the kind that fills in the corners at afternoon teas, and +wears out three pairs of pumps every winter leadin' cotillions. You'll +see his name figurin' in the society notes: how Mrs. Burgess Jones gave +a dinner dance at Sherry's for the younger set, and the cotillion was +led by Mr. Purdy Bligh. Say, how's that as a steady job for a grown +man, eh? + +But so long as I'm treated square by anyone, and they don't try to +throw any lugs around where I am, I don't feel any call to let 'em in +on my private thoughts. So Purdy and me gets along first rate; and the +next thing I knows he's callin' me Shorty, and bein' as glad to see me +when he comes in as if I was one of his old pals. How you goin' to +dodge a thing of that kind? And then, 'fore I knows what's comin', I'm +right in the middle of this Bombazoula business. + +It wa'n't anything I butted into on purpose, now you can take that +straight. It was this way: I was doin' my reg'lar afternoon stroll up +the avenue, not payin' much attention to anything in particular, when a +cab pulls up at the curb, and I looks around, to see Purdy leanin' over +the apron and makin' motions at me with his cane. + +"Hello!" says I. "Have they got you strapped in so you can't get out?" + +"By Jove!" says he, "I never thought of jumping out, you know. Beg +pardon, old man, for hailing you in that fashion, but----" + +"Cut it!" says I. "I ain't so proud as all that. What's doin'?" + +"It's rather a rummy go," says he; "but where can I buy some snakes?" + +"That's rummy, all right," says I. "Have you tried sendin' him to an +institute?" + +"Sending who?" says he. + +"Oh!" says I. "I figured this was a snake cure, throwin' a scare into +somebody, that you was plannin'." + +"Oh, dear, no," says Purdy. "They're for Valentine. He's fond of +snakes, you know--can't get along without them. But they must be big +ones--spotted, rings around them, and all that." + +"Gee!" says I. "Vally's snake tastes must be educated 'way up! Guess +you'll have to give in your order down at Lefty White's." + +"And where is that?" says he. + +"William street, near the bridge," says I. "Don't you know about +Lefty's?" + +Well, he didn't; hadn't ever been below the bridge on the East Side in +his life; and wouldn't I please come along, if I could spare the time. + +So I climbs in alongside Purdy and the cane, and off we goes down town, +at the rate of a dollar 'n' a half an hour. I hadn't got out more'n +two questions 'fore Purdy cuts loose with the story of his life. + +"It's almost the same as asking me to choose my lot in the cemetery," +says he, "this notion of Aunt Isabella's for sending me out to buy +snakes." + +"I thought it was Valentine they was for?" says I. "Where does he come +in?" + +That fetches us to Chapter One, which begins with Aunt Isabella. It +seems that some time back, after she'd planted one hubby in Ohio and +another in Greenwood, and had pinned 'em both down secure with cut +granite slabs, aunty had let herself go for another try. This time she +gets an Englishman. He couldn't have been very tough, to begin with, +for he didn't last long. Neither did a brother of his; although you +couldn't lay that up against Isabella, as brother in law got himself +run over by a train. About all he left was a couple of +fourteen-year-old youngsters stranded in a boarding school. That was +Purdy and Valentine, and they was only half brothers at that, with +nobody that they could look up to for anything more substantial than +sympathy. So it was up to the step-aunt to do the rescue act. + +Well, Isabella has accumulated all kinds of dough; but she figures out +that the whole of one half brother was about all she wanted as a +souvenir to take home from dear old England. She looks the two of 'em +over for a day, tryin' to decide which to take, and then Purdy's +'lasses coloured hair wins out against Valentine's brick dust bangs. +She finds a job for Vally, a place where he can almost earn a livin', +gives him a nice new prayer book and her blessin', and cuts him adrift +in the fog. Then she grabs Purdy by the hand and catches the next boat +for New York. + +From then on it's all to the downy for Purdy, barrin' the fact that the +old girl's more or less tryin' to the nerves. She buys herself a +double breasted house just off the avenue, gives Purdy the best there +is goin', and encourages him to be as ladylike as he knows how. + +And say, what would you expect? I'd hate to think of what I'd be now +if I'd been brought up on a course of dancin' school, music lessons, +and Fauntleroy suits. What else was there for Purdy to do but learn to +drink tea with lemon in it, and lead cotillions? Aunt Isabella's been +takin' on weight and losin' her hearin'. When she gets so that she +can't eat chicken salad and ice cream at one A. M. without rememberin' +it for three days, and she has to buy pearls to splice out her +necklace, and have an extra wide chair put in her op'ra box, she begins +to sour on the merry-merry life, scratches half the entries on her +visitin' list, and joins old lady societies that meet once a month in +the afternoon. + +"Of course," says Purdy, "I had no objection to all that. It was +natural. Only after she began to bring Anastasia around, and hint very +plainly what she expected me to do, I began to get desperate." + +"Stashy wa'n't exactly your idea of a pippin, eh?" says I. + +That was what. Accordin' to Purdy's shorthand notes, Stashy was one of +these square chinned females that ought to be doin' a weight liftin' +act with some tent show. But she wa'n't. She had too much out at +int'rest for that, and as she didn't go in for the light and frivolous +she has to have something to keep her busy. So she starts out as a +lady preventer. Gettin' up societies to prevent things was her fad. +She splurges on 'em, from the kind that wants to put mufflers on +steamboat whistles, to them that would like to button leggins on the +statues of G. Wash. For all that, though, she thinks it's her duty to +marry some man and train him, and between her and Aunt Isabella they'd +picked out Purdy for the victim. + +"While you'd gone and tagged some pink and white, mink lined Daisy +May?" says I. + +"I hadn't thought about getting married at all," says Purdy. + +"Then you might's well quit squirmin'," says I. "If you've got two of +that kind plannin' out your future, there ain't any hope." + +Then we gets down to Valentine, the half brother that has been cut +loose. Just as Purdy has given it to aunty straight that he'd rather +drop out of two clubs and have his allowance cut in half, than tie up +to any such tailor made article as Anastasia, and right in the middle +of Aunt Isabella's gettin' purple faced and puffy eyed over it, along +comes a lengthy letter from Valentine. + +It ain't any hard luck wheeze, either. He's no hungry prod., Vally +ain't. He's been doin' some tall climbin', all these years that +Purdy's been collectin' pearl stick pins and gold cigarette cases, and +changin' his clothes four times a day. Vally has jumped from one job +to another, played things clear across the board and the ends against +the middle, chased the pay envelope almost off the edge of the map, and +finished somewhere on the east coast of Africa, where he bosses a +couple of hundred coloured gentlemen in the original package, and makes +easy money by bein' agent for a big firm of London iv'ry importers. +He'd been makin' a trip to headquarters with a cargo, and was on his +way back to the iv'ry fields, when the notion struck him to stop off in +New York and say howdy to Aunt Isabella and Brother Purd. + +"And she hasn't talked about anything but Valentine since," says Purdy. + +"It's Vally's turn to be it; eh?" says I. + +"You'd think so if you could hear them," says he. "Anastasia is just +as enthusiastic." + +"You ain't gettin' jealous, are you?" says I. + +Purdy unreefs the sickliest kind of a grin you ever saw. "I was as +pleased as anyone," says he, "until I found out the whole of Aunt +Isabella's plan." + +And say, it was a grand right and left that she'd framed up. Matin' +Stashy up with Valentine instead of Purdy was only part. Her idea was +to induce Vally to settle down with her, and ship Purdy off to look +after the iv'ry job. + +"Only fancy!" says Purdy. "It's a place called Bombazoula! Why, you +can't even find it on the chart. I'd die if I had to live in such a +dreadful place." + +"Is it too late to get busy and hand out the hot air to Stashy?" says +I. "Looks to me like it was either you for her, or Bombazoula for you." + +"Don't!" says Purdy, and he shivers like I'd slipped an icicle down his +back. Honest, he was takin' it so hard I didn't have the heart to rub +it in. + +"Maybe Valentine'll renig--who knows?" says I. "He may be so stuck on +Africa that she can't call him off." + +"Oh, Aunt Isabella has thought of that," says he. "She is so provoked +with me that she will do everything to make him want to stay; and if I +remember Valentine, he'll be willing. Besides, who would want to live +in Africa when they could stop in New York? But I do think she might +have sent some one else after those snakes." + +"Oh, yes!" says I. "I'd clean forgot about them. Where do they figure +in this?" + +"Decoration," says Purdy. "In my old rooms too!" + +Seems that Stashy and aunty had been reading up on Bombazoula, and +they'd got it down fine. Then they turns to and lays themselves out to +fix things up for Valentine so homelike and comfortable that, even if +he was ever so homesick for the jungle, like he wrote he was, he +wouldn't want to go any farther. + +First they'd got a lot of big rubber trees and palms, and filled the +rooms full of 'em, with the floors covered with stage grass, and half a +dozen grey parrots to let loose. They'd even gone so far as to try to +hire a couple of fake Zulus from a museum to come up and sing the +moonrise song; so's Vally wouldn't be bothered about goin' to sleep +night. The snakes twinin' around the rubber trees was to add the +finishin' touch. Course, they wanted the harmless kind, that's had +their stingers cut out; but snakes of some sort they'd just got to +have, or else they knew it wouldn't seem like home to Valentine. + +"Just as though I cared whether he is going to feel at home or not!" +says Purdy, real pettish. "By, Jove, Shorty! I've half a mind not to +do it. So there!" + +"Gee!" says I. "I wouldn't have your temper for anything. Shall we +signal the driver to do a pivot and head her north?" + +"N-n-n-o," says Purdy, reluctant. + +And right there I gets a seventh son view of Aunt Isabella crackin' the +checkbook at Purdy, and givin' him the cold spine now and then by +threatenin' to tear up the will. From that on I feels different +towards him. He'd got to a point where it was either please Aunt +Isabella, or get out and hustle; and how to get hold of real money +except by shovin' pink slips at the payin' teller was part of his +education that had been left out. He was up against it for fair. + +"Say, Purdy," says I, "I don't want to interfere in any family matters; +but since you've put it up to me, let me get this chunk of advice off +my mind: Long's you've got to be nice to aunty or go on a snowball +diet, I'd be nice and do it as cheerful as I could." + +Purdy thinks that over for a minute or so. Then he raps his cane on +the rubber mat, straightens up his shoulders, and says, "By Jove, I'll +do it! I'll get the snakes!" + +That wa'n't so easy, though, as I'd thought. Lefty White says he's +sorry, but he runs a mighty small stock of snakes in winter. He's got +a fine line of spring goods on the way, though, and if we'll just leave +our order---- + +"Ah, say, Lefty!" says I. "You give me shootin' pains. Here I goes +and cracks up your joint as a first class snakery and all you can show +is a few angleworms in bottles and a prospectus of what you'll have +next month." + +"Stuffed ones wouldn't do, eh?" says he. + +"Why not?" says I. + +Purdy wa'n't sure, but he thought he'd take a chance on 'em; so we +picked out three of the biggest and spottedest ones in the shop, and +makes Lefty promise to get 'em up there early next forenoon, for +Valentine was due to show up by dinner time next night. + +On the way back we talks it over some more, and I tries to chirk Purdy +up all I could; for every time he thinks of Bombazoula he has a +shiverin' fit that nearly knocks him out. + +"I could never stand it to go there," says he--"never!" + +"Here, here!" says I. "That's no way to meet a thing like this. What +you want to do is to chuck a bluff. Jump right into this reception +business with both feet and let on you're tickled to death with the +prospect. Aunty won't take half the satisfaction in shunting you off +to the monkey woods if she thinks you want to go." + +Beats all what a little encouragement will do for some folks. By the +time Purdy drops me at the Studio he's feelin' a whole lot better, and +is prepared to give Vally the long lost brother grip when he comes. + +But I was sorry for Purdy just the same. I could see him, over there +at Bombazoula, in a suit of lavender pajamas, tryin' to organise a +cotillion with a lot of heavy weight brunettes, wearin' brass rings in +their noses and not much else. And all next day I kept wonderin' if +Aunt Isabella's scheme was really goin' to pan. So, when Purdy rushes +in about four o'clock, and wants me to come up and take a look at the +layout, I was just about ripe for goin' to see the show. + +"But I hope we can shy aunty," says I. "Sometimes I get along with +these old battle axes first rate, and then again I don't; and what +little reputation you got left at home I don't want to queer." + +"Oh, that will be all right," says Purdy. "She has heard of you from +Pinckney, and she knows about how you helped me to get the snakes." + +"Did they fit in?" says I. + +"Come up and see," says Purdy. + +And it was worth the trip, just to get a view of them rooms. Nobody +but a batty old woman would have ever thought up so many jungle stunts +for the second floor of a brownstone front. + +"There!" says Purdy. "Isn't that tropical enough?" + +I took a long look. "Well," says I, "I've never been farther south +than Old Point, but I've seen such things pictured out before now, and +if I'm any judge, this throws up a section of the cannibal belt to the +life." + +It did too. They had the dark shades pulled down, and the light was +kind of dim; but you could see that the place was chock full of ferns +and palms and such. The parrots was hoppin' around, and you could hear +water runnin' somewheres, and they'd trained them spotted snakes around +the rubber trees just as natural as if they'd crawled up there by +themselves. + +While we was lookin' Aunt Isabella comes puffin' up the stairs. + +"Isn't it just charming, Mr. McCabe?" says she, holdin' a hand up +behind one ear. "I can hardly wait for dear Valentine to come, I'm so +anxious to see how pleased he'll be. He just dotes on jungle life. +The dear boy! You must come up and take tea with him some afternoon. +He's a very shy, diffident little chap; but----" + +At that the door bell starts ringin' like the house was afire, and +bang! bang! goes someone's fist on the outside panel. Course, we all +chases down stairs to see what's broke loose; but before we gets to the +front hall the butler has the door open, and in pushes a husky, red +whiskered party, wearin' a cloth cap, a belted ulster with four checks +to the square yard, and carryin' an extension leather bag about the +size of a small trunk, with labels pasted all over it. + +"It's a blawsted shyme, that's w'at it is!" says he--"me p'yin' 'alf a +bob for a two shillin' drive. These cabbies of yours is a set of +bloomink 'iw'ymen!" + +"What name, sir?" says the butler. + +"Nime!" roars the whiskered gent. "I'm Valentine, that's who I am! +Tyke the luggage, you shiverin' pie face!" + +"Oh, Valentine!" squeals Aunt Isabella, makin' a rush at him with her +arms out. + +"Sheer off, aunty!" says he. "Cut out the bally tommyrot and let me +'ave a wash. And sye, send some beggar for the brandy and soda. +Where's me rooms?" + +"I'll show you up, Valentine," chips in Purdy. + +"'Ello! 'O's the little man?" says Vally. "Blow me if it ain't Purdy! +Trot along up, Purdy lad, and show me the digs." + +Say, he was a bird, Vally was. He talks like a Cockney, acts like a +bounder, and looks 'em both. + +Aunt Isabella has dropped on the hall seat, gaspin' for breath, the +butler is leanin' against the wall with his mouth open; so I grabs the +bag and starts up after the half brothers. Just by the peachblow tint +of Vally's nose I got the idea that maybe the most entertainin' part of +this whole program was billed to take place on the second floor. + +"Here you are," says Purdy, swingin' open the door and shovin' him in. +"Aunt Isabella has fixed things up homelike for you, you see." + +"And here's your trunk," says I. "Make yourself to home," and I shuts +him in to enjoy himself. + +It took Valentine just about twenty seconds to size up the interior +decorations; for Purdy'd turned on the incandescents so's to give him a +good view, and that had stirred up the parrots some. What I was +waitin' for was for him to discover the spotted snakes. I didn't think +he could miss 'em, for they was mighty prominent. Nor he didn't. It +wasn't only us heard it, but everyone else on the block. + +"Wow!" says he. "'Elp! 'Elp! Lemme out! I'm bein' killed!" + +That was Valentine, bellerin' enough to take the roof off, and clawin' +around for the doorknob on the inside. He comes out as if he'd been +shot through a chute, his eyes stickin' out like a couple of peeled +onions, an' a grey parrot hangin' to one ear. + +"What's the trouble?" says Purdy. + +"Br-r-r!" says Valentine, like a clogged steam whistle. "Where's the +nearest 'orspital? I'm a sick man! Br-r-r-r!" + +With that he starts down the stairs, takin' three at a time, bolts +through the front door, and makes a dash down the street, yellin' like +a kid when a fire breaks out. + +Purdy and me didn't have any time to watch how far he went, for Aunt +Isabella had keeled over on the rug, the maid was havin' a fit in the +parlour, and the butler was fannin' himself with the card tray. We had +to use up all the alcohol and smellin' salts in the house before we +could bring the bunch around. When aunty's so she can hold her head up +and open her eyes, she looks about cautious, and whispers: + +"Has--has he gone, Purdy, dear?" + +Purdy says he has. + +"Then," she says to me, "bolt that door, and never mention his name to +me again." + +Everything's lovely now. Purdy's back to the downy, and Bombazoula's +wiped off the map for good. + +And say! If you're lookin' for a set of jungle scenery and stuffed +snakes, I know where you can get a job lot for the askin'. + + + + +XIV + +A HUNCH FOR LANGDON + +Say, the longer I knocks around and the more kinds I meet, the slower I +am about sizin' folks up on a first view. I used to think there was +only two classes, them that was my kind and them that wa'n't; but I've +got over that. I don't try to grade 'em up any more; for they're built +on so many different plans it would take a card index the size of a +flat buildin' to keep 'em all on file. All I can make out is that +there's some good points about the worst of 'em, and some of the best +has their streak of yellow. + +Anyway, I'm glad I ain't called on to write a tag for Langdon. First +news I had of him was what I took for inside information, bein' as it +was handed me by his maw. When I gets the note askin' me to call up in +the 70's between five and six I don't know whether it's a bid to a tea +fest or a bait for an auction. The stationery was real swell, though, +and the writin' was this up and down kind that goes with the gilt +crest. What I could puzzle out of the name, though, wa'n't familiar. +But I follows up the invite and takes a chance. + +So about five-thirty I'm standin' outside the glass doors pushin' the +bell. A butler with boiled egg eyes looks me over real frosty from +behind the lace curtains; but the minute I says I'm Shorty McCabe he +takes off the tramp chain and says, "Yes, sir. This way, sir." I'm +towed in over the Persian hall runner to the back parlour, where +there's a lady and gent sittin' on opposite sides of the coal grate, +with a tea tray between 'em. + +"I'll be drinkin' that stuff yet, if I ain't careful," thinks I. + +But I didn't even have to duck. The lady was so anxious to get to +talkin' that she forgot to shove the cups at me, and the gent didn't +act like it was his say. It was hard to tell, the way she has the +lights fixed, whether she was twenty-five or fifty. Anyway, she hadn't +got past the kittenish stage. Some of 'em never does. She don't +overdo the thing, but just gushes natural; usin' her eyes, and +eyebrows, and the end of her nose, and the tip of her chin when she +spoke, as well as throwin' in a few shoulder lifts once in awhile. + +"It's so good of you to come up, professor!" says she. "Isn't it, +Pembroke?" + +Pembroke--he's the gent on the other side of the tray--starts to say +that it was, but she don't give him a chance. She blazes right ahead, +tellin' how she's heard of me and my Studio through friends, and the +minute she hears of it, she knows that nothing would suit Langdon +better. "Langdon's my son, you know," says she. + +"Honest?" says I. + +"Te-he!" says she. "How sweet of you! Hardly anyone believes it at +first, though. But he's a dear boy; isn't he, Pembroke?" + +This was Pembroke's cue for fair. It's up to him to do the boost act. +But all he produces is a double barrelled blink from behind the +glasses. He's one of these chubby chaps, Pembroke is, especially +around the belt. He has pink cheeks, and a nice white forehead that +almost meets the back of his collar. But he knows when to let things +slide with a blink. + +"I guess some one's been givin' you the wrong steer," says I. "I ain't +started any kindergarten class yet. The Y. M. C. A. does that sort +of----" + +"Oh, dear! but Langdon isn't a child, you know," says the lady. "He's +a great big fellow, almost twenty-two. Yes, really. And I know you'll +get to be awfully fond of him. Won't he, Pembroke?" + +"We-e-e-ell----" says Pembroke. + +"Oh, he's bound to," says she. "Of course, Langdon doesn't always make +friends easily. He is so apt to be misunderstood. Why, they treated +him perfectly horrid at prep. school, and even worse at college. A lot +of the fellows, and, actually, some of the professors, were so rude to +him that Langdon said he just wouldn't stay another day! I told him I +didn't blame him a bit. So he came home. But it's awfully dull for a +young man like Langdon here in New York, you know." + +"Crippled, or blind or something, is he?" says I. + +"Who, Langdon? Why, he's perfect--absolutely perfect!" says she. + +"Oh, that accounts for it," says I, and Pembroke went through some +motions with his cheeks like he was tryin' to blow soap bubbles up in +the air. + +Well, it seems that mother has been worryin' a lot over keepin' Langdon +amused. Think of it, in a town like this! + +"He detests business," says she, "and he doesn't care for theatres, or +going to clubs, or reading, or society. But his poor dear father +didn't care for any of those things either, except business. And +Langdon hasn't any head for that. All he takes an interest in is his +machine." + +"Singer or Remington?" says I. + +"Why, his auto, of course. He's perfectly devoted to that," says she; +"but the police are so dreadfully particular. Oh, they make such lots +of trouble for Langdon, and get him into such stupid scrapes. Don't +they, Pembroke?" + +Pembroke didn't blink at that. He nods twice. + +"It just keeps me worried all the time," she goes on. "It isn't that I +mind paying the absurd fines, of course; but--well, you can understand. +No one knows what those horrid officers will do next, they're so +unreasonable. Just think, that is the poor boy's only pleasure! So I +thought that if we could only get Langdon interested in something of an +athletic nature--he's a splendid boxer, you know--oh, splendid!" + +"That's different," says I. "You might send him down a few times +and----" + +"Oh, but I want you to meet him first," says she, "and arouse his +enthusiasm. He would never go if you didn't. I expect he will be in +soon, and then-- Why, that must be Langdon now!" + +It might have been an axe brigade from the district attorney's office, +or a hook and ladder company, by the sound. I didn't know whether he +was comin' through the doors or bringin' 'em in with him. As I squints +around I sees the egg eyed butler get shouldered into the hall rack; so +I judges that Langdon must be in something of a hurry. + +He gets over it, though, for he stamps into the middle of the room, +plants his feet wide apart, throws his leather cap with the goggles on +into a chair, and chucks one of them greasy bootleg gloves into the +middle of the tea tray. + +"Hello, maw!" he growls. "Hello, Fatty! You here again?" + +Playful little cuss, Langdon was. He's about five feet nine, short +necked, and broad across the chest. But he's got a nice face--for a +masked ball--eyes the colour of purple writin' ink, hair of a lovely +ripe tomato shade growin' down to a peak in front and standin' up stiff +and bristly; a corrugated brow, like a washboard; and an undershot jaw, +same's a bull terrier. Oh, yes, he was a dear boy, all right. In his +leggin's and leather coat he looks too cute for any use. + +"Who's this?" says he, gettin' sight of me sittin' sideways on the +stuffed chair. + +"Why, Langdon dear," says maw, "this is Professor McCabe. I was +speaking to you of him, you know." + +He looks me over as friendly as if I was some yegg man that had been +hauled out of the coal cellar. "Huh!" says he. I've heard freight +engines coughin' up a grade make a noise a good deal like that. + +Say, as a rule I ain't anxious to take on new people, and it's gettin' +so lately that we turn away two or three a week; but it didn't take me +long to make up my mind that I could find time for a session with +Langdon, if he wanted it. + +"Your maw says you do a little boxin'?" says I, smooth and soothin'. + +"What of it?" says he. + +"Well," says I, "down to my Studio we juggle the kid pillows once in +awhile ourselves, when we ain't doin' the wand drill, or playin' bean +bag." + +"Huh!" says he once more. + +For a parlour conversationalist, Langdon was a frost, and he has +manners that would turn a subway guard green. But maw jumps in with +enough buttered talk for both, and pretty soon she tells me that +Langdon's perfectly delighted and will be down next day. + +"Me and Mr. Gallagher'll be on the spot," says I. "Good evenin', +ma'am." + +At that Pembroke jumps up, makes a quick break away, and trails along +too, so we does a promenade together down West End-ave. + +"Charming young fellow, eh?" says Pembroke. + +"Sure!" says I. "But he hides it well." + +"You think Langdon needs exercise?" says he. + +"Never saw anyone that needed it much worse," says I. + +"Just my notion," says he. "In fact I am so interested in seeing that +Langdon gets it that I am quite willing to pay something extra for----" + +"You don't have to," says I. "I'm almost willin' to do the payin' +myself." + +That pleases Pembroke so much he has to stop right in his tracks and +shake hands. Funny, ain't it, how you can get to be such good friends +with anyone so sudden? We walks thirty blocks, chinnin' like brothers, +and when we stops on the corner of 42d I've got the whole story of maw +and Langdon, with some of Pembroke's hist'ry thrown in. + +It was just a plain case of mother bein' used as a doormat by her dear, +darling boy. She was more or less broke in to it, for it seems that +the late departed had been a good deal of a rough houser in his day, +havin' been about as gentle in his ways as a 'Leventh-ave. bartender +entertainin' the Gas House Gang. He hadn't much more'n quit the game, +though, before Langdon got big enough to carry out the program, and +he'd been at it ever since. + +As near as I could figure, Pembroke was a boyhood friend of maw's. +He'd missed his chance of bein' anything nearer, years ago, but was +still anxious to try again. But it didn't look like there'd be any +weddin' bells for him until Langdon either got his neck broke or was +put away for life. Pemby wa'n't soured, though. He talked real nice +about it. He said he could see how much maw thought of Langdon, and it +showed what good stuff she was made of, her stickin' to the boy until +he'd settled on something, or something had settled on him. Course, he +thought it was about time she had a let up and was treated white for +awhile. + +Accordin' to the hints he dropped, I suspicions that Pembroke would +have ranked her A-1 in the queen class, and I gathers that the size of +her bank account don't cut any ice in this deal, him havin' more or +less of a surplus himself. I guess he'd been a patient waiter; but +he'd set his hopes hard on engagin' the bridal state room for a spring +trip to Europe. + +It all comes back, though, to what could be done with Langdon, and that +was where the form sheet wa'n't any help. There's a million or so left +in trust for him; but he don't get it until he's twenty-five. +Meantime, it was a question of how you're goin' to handle a youngster +that's inherited the instincts of a truck driver and the income of a +bank president. + +"It's a pity, too," says Pembroke. "He hasn't any vicious habits, he's +rather bright, and if he could be started right he would make quite a +man, even now. He needs to be caged up somewhere long enough to' have +some of the bully knocked out of him. I'm hoping you can do a little +along that line." + +"Too big a contract," says I. "All I want is to make his ears buzz a +little, just as a comeback for a few of them grunts he chucked at me." + +And who do you suppose showed up at the Studio next forenoon? Him and +maw; she smilin' all over and tickled to death to think she'd got him +there; Langdon actin' like a bear with a sore ear. + +"Maybe you hadn't better wait," says I to her. + +"Oh, yes," says she. "I am going to stay and watch dear Langdon box, +you know." + +Well, unless I ruled her out flat, there was no way of changin' her +mind; so I had to let her stay. And she saw Langdon box. Oh, yes! +For an amateur, he puts up a fairly good exhibition, and as I didn't +have the heart to throw the hook into him with her sittin' there +lookin' so cheerful, about all I does is step around and block his +swings and jabs. And say, with him carryin' his guard high, and +leavin' the way to his meat safe open half the time, it was all I could +do to hold myself back. + +The only fun I gets is watchin' Swifty Joe's face out of the corner of +my eye. He was pipin' us off from the start. First his mouth comes +open a foot or so as he sees me let a chance slide, and when I misses +more openin's he takes on a look like some one had fed him a ripe egg. + +Langdon is havin' the time of his life. He can hit as hard as he +likes, and he don't get hit back. Must have seemed real homelike to +him. Anyway, soon's he dopes it out that there ain't any danger at +all, he bores in like a snow plough, and between blockin' and duckin' I +has my hands full. + +Just how Langdon has it sized up I couldn't make out; but like as not I +made somethin' of a hit with him. I put it down that way when he shows +up one afternoon with his bubble, and offers to take me for a spin. It +was so unexpected to find him tryin' to do somethin' agreeable that I +don't feel like I ought to throw him down. So I pulls on a sweater and +climbs in next to the steerin' wheel. + +There wa'n't anything fancy about Langdon's oil waggon. He'd had the +tonneau stripped off, and left just the front seat--no varnished wood, +only a coat of primin' paint and a layer of mud splashed over that. +But we hadn't gone a dozen blocks before I am wise to the fact that +nothin' was the matter with the cog wheels underneath. + +"Kind of a high powered cart, ain't it?" says I. + +"Only ninety horse," says Langdon, jerkin' us around a Broadway car so +fast that we grazed both ends at once. + +"You needn't hit 'er up on my account," says I, as we scoots across the +Plaza, makin' a cab horse stand on his hind legs to give us room. + +"I'm only on the second speed," says he. "Wait," and he does some +monkeyin' with the lever. + +Maybe it was Central Park; but it seemed to me like bein' shot through +a Christmas wreath, and the next thing I knows we're tearin' up +Amsterdam-ave. Say, I can see 'em yet, them folks and waggons and +things we missed--women holdin' kids by the hand, old ladies steppin' +out of cars, little girls runnin' across the street with their arms +full of bundles, white wings with their dust cans, and boys with +delivery carts. Sometimes I'd just shut my eyes and listen for the +squashy sound, and when it didn't come I'd open 'em and figure on what +would happen if I should reach out and get Langdon's neck in the crook +of my arm. + +And it wa'n't my first fast ride in town, either. But I'd never been +behind the lamps when a two-ton machine was bein' sent at a fifty-mile +clip up a street crowded with folks that had almost as much right to be +livin' as we did. + +It was a game that suited Langdon all right, though. He's squattin' +behind the wheel bareheaded, with his ketchup tinted hair plastered +back by the wind, them purple eyes shut to a squint, his under jaw +stuck out, and a kind of half grin--if you could call it +that--flickerin' on and off his thick lips. I don't wonder men shook +their fists at us and women turned white and sick as we cleared 'em by +the thickness of a sheet of paper. I expect we left a string of cuss +words three blocks long. + +I don't know how far we went, or where. It was all a nightmare to me, +just a string of gasps and visions of what would be in the papers next +day, after the coroner's jury got busy. But somehow we got through +without any red on the tires, and pulls up in front of the Studio. I +didn't jump out in a hurry, like I wanted to. I needed a minute to +think, for it seemed to me something was due some one. + +"Nice little plaything you've got here," says I. "And that was a great +ride. But sittin' still so long has kind of cramped my legs. Don't +feel like limberin' up a bit with the mitts, do you?" + +"I'd just as soon," says Langdon. + +I was tryin' not to look the way I felt; but when we'd sent Swifty down +to sit in the machine, and I'd got Langdon peeled off and standin' on +the mat, with the spring lock snapped between him and the outside door, +it seemed too good to be true. I'd picked out an old set of gloves +that had the hair worked away from the knuckles some, for I wa'n't +plannin' on any push ball picnic this time. + +Just to stir his fightin' blood, and partly so I could be sure I had a +good grip on my own temper, I let him get in a few facers on me. Then +I opens up with the side remarks I'd been thinkin' over. + +"Say, Langy," says I, sidesteppin' one of his swings for my jaw, +"s'posin' you'd hit some of them people, eh? S'posin' that car of +yours had caught one of them old women--biff!--like that?" and I lets +go a jolt that fetches him on the cheek bone. + +"Ugh!" says Langdon, real surprised. But he shakes his head and comes +back at me. + +"Ever stop to think," says I, "how one of them kids would look after +you'd got him--so?" and I shoots the left into that bull neck of his. + +"S-s-s-say!" sputters Langdon. "What do you think you're doing, +anyway?" + +"Me?" says I. "I'm tryin' to get a few points on the bubble business. +Is it more fun to smash 'em in the ribs--bang!--like that? Or to slug +'em in the head--biff!--so? That's right, son; come in for more. It's +waitin'. There! Jarred your nut a bit, that one did, eh? Yes, here's +the mate to it. There's plenty more on tap. Oh, never mind the nose +claret. It'll wipe off. Keep your guard up. Careful, now! You're +swingin' wide. And, as I was sayin'--there, you ran into that +one--this bubble scorchin' must be great sport. When you +don't--biff!--get 'em--biff! you can scare 'em to death, eh? Wabbly on +your feet, are you? That's the stuff! Keep it up. That eye's all +right. One's all you need to see with. Gosh! Now you've got a pair +of 'em." + +If it hadn't been for his comin' in so ugly and strong I never could +have done it. I'd have weakened and let up on him long before he'd got +half what was owin'. But he was bound to have it all, and there's no +sayin' he wa'n't game about it. At the last I tried to tell him he'd +had enough; but as long as he could keep on his pins he kept hopin' to +get in just one on me; so I finally has to drop him with a stiff one +behind the ear. + +Course, if we'd had ring gloves on he'd looked like he'd been on the +choppin' block; but with the pillows you can't get hurt bad. Inside of +ten minutes I has him all washed off and up in a chair, lookin' not +much worse than before, except for the eye swellin's. And what do you +guess is the first thing he does? + +"Say, McCabe," says he, shovin' out his paw, "you're all right, you +are." + +"So?" says I. "If I thought you was any judge that might carry weight." + +"I know," says he. "Nobody likes me." + +"Oh, well," says I, "I ain't rubbin' it in. I guess there's white +spots in you, after all; even if you do keep 'em covered." + +He pricks up his ears at that, and wants to know how and why. Almost +before I knows it we've drifted into a heart to heart talk that a half +hour before I would have said couldn't have happened. Langdon ain't +turned cherub; but he's a whole lot milder, and he takes in what I've +got to say as if it was a bulletin from headquarters. + +"That's all so," says he. "But I've got to do something. Do you know +what I'd like best?" + +I couldn't guess. + +"I'd like to be in the navy and handle one of those big thirteen-inch +guns," says he. + +"Why not, then?" says I. + +"I don't know how to get in," says he. "I'd go in a minute, if I did." + +"You're as good as there now, then," says I. "There's a recruitin' +office around on Sixth-ave., not five blocks from here, and the +Lieutenant's somethin' of a friend of mine. Is it a go?" + +"It is," says Langdon. + +Hanged if he didn't mean it too, and before he can change his mind +we've had the papers all made out. + +In the mornin' I 'phones Pembroke, and he comes around to lug me up +while he breaks the news to maw; for he says she'll need a lot of +calmin' down. I was lookin' for nothin' less than cat fits, too. But +say, she don't even turn on the sprayer. + +"The navy!" says she. "Why, how sweet! Oh, I'm so glad! Won't +Langdon make a lovely officer?" + +I don't know how it's goin' to work out; but there's one sure thing: +it'll be some time before Langdon'll be pestered any more by the +traffic cops. + +And, now that the state room's engaged, you ought to see how well +Pembroke is standin' the blow. + + + + +XV + +SHORTY'S GO WITH ART + +When me and art gets into the ring together, you might as well burn the +form sheet and slip the band back on your bettin' roll, for there's no +tellin' who'll take the count. + +It was Cornelia Ann that got me closer to art than I'd ever been +before, or am like to get again. Now, I didn't hunt her up, nor she +didn't come gunnin' for me. It was a case of runnin' down signals and +collidin' on the stair landin'; me makin' a grand rush out of the +Studio for a cross town car, and she just gettin' her wind 'fore she +tackled the next flight. + +Not that I hit her so hard; but it was enough to spill the paper +bundles she has piled up on one arm, and start 'em bouncin' down the +iron steps. First comes a loaf of bread; next a bottle of pickles, +that goes to the bad the third hop; and exhibit C was one of these +ten-cent dishes of baked beans--the pale kind, that look like they'd +floated in with the tide. Course, that dinky tin pan they was in don't +land flat. It slips out of the bag as slick as if it was greased, +stands up on edge, and rolls all the way down, distributin' the mess +from top to bottom, as even as if it was laid on with a brush. + +"My luncheon!" says she, in a reg'lar me-che-e-ild voice. + +"Lunch!" says I. "That's what I'd call a spread. This one's on the +house, but the next one will be on me. Will to-morrow do?" + +"Ye-es," says she. + +"Sorry," says I, "but I'm runnin' behind sched. now. What's the name, +miss?" + +"C. A. Belter, top floor," says she; "but don't mind about----" + +"That'll be all right, too," says I, skippin' down over the broken +glass and puntin' the five-cent white through the door for a goal. + +It's little things like that, though, that keeps a man from forgettin' +how he was brought up. I'm ready enough with some cheap jolly, but +when it comes to throwin' in a "beg pardon" at the right place I'm a +late comer. I thinks of 'em sometime next day. + +Course, I tries to get even by orderin' a four-pound steak, with +mushroom trimmin's, sent around from the hotel on the corner; but I +couldn't get over thinkin' how disappointed she looked when she saw +that pan of beans doin' the pinwheel act. I know I've seen the time +when a plate of pork-and in my fist would have been worth all the +turkey futures you could stack in a barn, and maybe it was that way +with her. + +Anyway, she didn't die of it, for a couple of days later she knocks +easy on the Studio door and gets her head in far enough to say how nice +it was of me to send her that lovely steak. + +"Forget it," says I. + +"Never," says she. "I'm going to do a bas relief of you, in memory of +it." + +"A barrel which?" says I. + +Honest, I wa'n't within a mile of bein' next. It comes out that she +does sculpturing and wants to make a kind of embossed picture of me in +plaster of paris, like what the peddlers sell around on vacant stoops. + +"I'd look fine on a panel, wouldn't I?" says I. "Much obliged, miss, +but sittin' for my halftone is where I draws the line. I'll lend you +Swifty Joe, though." + +She ain't acquainted with the only registered assistant professor of +physical culture in the country, but she says if he don't mind she'll +try her hand on him first, and then maybe I'll let her do one of me. +Now, you'd thought Swifty, with that before-takin' mug of his, would +have hid in the cellar 'fore he'd let anybody make a cast of it; but +when the proposition is sprung, he's as pleased as if it was for the +front page of Fox's pink. + +That was what fetched me up to that seven by nine joint of hers, next +the roof, to have a look at what she'd done to Swifty Joe. He tows me +up there. And say, blamed if she hadn't got him to the life, broken +nose, ingrowin' forehead, whopper jaw, and all! + +"How about it?" says Joe, grinnin' at me as proud as if he'd broke into +the Fordham Heights Hall of Fame. + +"I never see anything handsomer--of the kind," says I. + +Then I got to askin' questions about the sculpturin' business, and how +the market was; so Miss Belter and me gets more or less acquainted. +She was a meek, slimpsy little thing, with big, hungry lookin' eyes, +and a double hank of cinnamon coloured hair that I should have thought +would have made her neck ache to carry around. + +Judgin' by the outfit in her ranch, the sculp-game ain't one that +brings in sable lined coats and such knickknacks. There was a bed +couch in one corner, a single burner gas stove on an upended trunk in +another, and chunks of clay all over the place. Light housekeepin' and +art don't seem to mix very well. Maybe they're just as tasty, but I'd +as soon have my eggs cooked in a fryin' pan that hadn't been used for a +mortar bed. + +We passed the time of day reg'lar after that, and now and then she'd +drop into the front office to show me some piece she'd made. I finds +out that the C. A. in her name stands for Cornelia Ann; so I drops the +Miss Belter and calls her that. + +"Father always calls me that, too," says she. + +"Yes?" says I. + +That leads up to the story of how the old folks out in Minnekeegan have +been backin' her for a two years' stab at art in a big city. Seems it +has been an awful drain on the fam'ly gold reserve, and none of 'em +took any stock in such foolishness anyway, but she'd jollied 'em into +lettin' her have a show to make good, and now the time was about up. + +"Well," says I, "you ain't all in, are you?" + +Her under lip starts to pucker up at that, and them hungry eyes gets +foggy; but she takes a new grip on herself, makes a bluff at grinnin', +and says, throaty like, "It's no use pretending any longer, I--I'm a +failure!" + +Say, that makes me feel like an ice cream sign in a blizzard. I hadn't +been lookin' to dig up any private heart throbs like that. But there +it was; so I starts in to cheer her up the best I knew how. + +"Course," says I, "it's a line I couldn't shake a nickel out of in a +year; but if it suited me, and I thought I was onto my job, I'd make it +yield the coin, or go good and hungry tryin'." + +"Perhaps I have gone hungry," says she, quiet like. + +"Honest?" says I. + +"That steak lasted me for a week," says she. + +There was more particulars followed that throws Cornelia Ann on the +screen in a new way for me. Grit! Why, she had enough to sand a +tarred roof. She'd lived on ham knuckles and limed eggs and Swiss +cheese for months. She'd turned her dresses inside out and upside +down, lined her shoes with paper when it was wet, and wore a long +sleeved shirt waist when there wa'n't another bein' used this side of +the prairies. And you can judge what that means by watchin' the women +size each other up in a street car. + +"If they'd only given me half a chance to show what I could do!" says +she. "But I didn't get the chance, and perhaps it was my fault. So +what's the use? I'll just pack up and go back to Minnekeegan." + +"Minnekeegan!" says I. "That sounds tough. What then?" + +"Oh," says she, "my brother is foreman in a broom factory. He will get +me a job at pasting labels." + +"Say," says I, gettin' a quick rush of blood to the head, "s'posen I +should contract for a full length of Swifty Joe to hang here in----" + +"No you don't!" says she, edgin' off. "It's good of you, but charity +work isn't what I want." + +Say, it wa'n't any of my funeral, but that broom fact'ry proposition +stayed with me quite some time. The thoughts of anyone havin' to go +back to a place with a name like Minnekeegan was bilious enough; but +for a girl that had laid out to give Macmonnies a run for the gold +medal, the label pastin' prospect must have loomed up like a bad dream. + +There's one good thing about other folks's troubles though--they're +easy put on the shelf. Soon's I gets to work I forgets all about +Cornelia Ann. I has to run out to Rockywold that afternoon, to put Mr. +Purdy Pell through his reg'lar course of stunts that he's been takin' +since some one told him he was gettin' to be a forty-fat. There was a +whole bunch of swells on hand; for it's gettin' so, now they can go and +come in their own tourin' cars, that winter house parties are just as +common as in summer. + +"Thank heaven you've come!" says Mr. Pell. "It gives me a chance to +get away from cards for an hour or so." + +"Guess you need it," says I. "You look like the trey of spades." + +Then Pinckney shows up in the gym., and he no sooner sees us at work +with the basket ball than he begins to peel off. "I say there!" says +he. "Count me in on some of that, or I'll be pulled into another +rubber." + +About an hour later, after they'd jollied me into stayin' all night, I +puts on a sweater and starts out for some hoof exercise in the young +blizzard that was makin' things white outside. Sadie holds me up at +the door. Her cheeks was blazin', and I could see she was holdin' the +Sullivan temper down with both hands. + +"Hello!" says I. "What's been stirrin' you up?" + +"Bridge!" snaps she. "I guess if you'd been glared at for two hours, +and called stupid when you lost, and worse names when you won, you'd +feel like throwing the cards at some one." + +"Well, why didn't you?" says I. + +"I did," says she, "and there's an awful row on; but I don't care! And +if you don't stop that grinnin', I'll----" + +Well, she does it. That's the way with Sadie, words is always too slow +for her. Inside of a minute she's out chasin' me around the front yard +and peltin' me with snow balls. + +"See here," says I, diggin' a hunk of snow out of one ear, "that kind +of sport's all to the merry; but if I was you I'd dress for the part. +Snowballin' in slippers and silk stockin's and a lace dress is a +pneumonia bid, even if you are such a warm one on top." + +"Who's a red head?" says she. "You just wait a minute, Shorty McCabe, +and I'll make you sorry for that!" + +It wa'n't a minute, it was nearer fifteen; but when Sadie shows up +again she's wearin' the slickest Canuck costume you ever see, all +blanket stripes and red tassels, like a girl on a gift calendar. + +"Whe-e-e!" says she, and the snow begins to fly in chunks. It was the +damp, packy kind that used to make us go out and soak the tall hats +when we was kids. And Sadie hasn't forgot how to lam 'em in, either. +We was havin' it hot and lively, all over the lawn, when the first +thing I knows out comes Mrs. Purdy Pell and Pinckney and a lot of +others, to join in the muss. They'd dragged out a whole raft of +toboggan outfits from the attic, and the minute they gets 'em on they +begins to act as coltish as two-year-olds. + +Well say, you wouldn't have thought high rollers like them, that gets +their fun out of playin' the glass works exhibit at the op'ra, and +eatin' one A. M. suppers at Sherry's, and doublin' no trumps at a +quarter a point, could unbuckle enough to build snow forts, and yell +like Indians, and cut up like kids generally. But they does--washed +each other's faces, and laughed and whooped it up until dark. Didn't +need the dry Martinis to jolly up appetites for that bunch when dinner +time come, and if there was anyone awake in Rockywold after ten o'clock +that night it was the butler and the kitchen help. + +I looked for 'em to forget it all by mornin' and start in again on +their punky card games; but they was all up bright and early, plannin' +out new stunts. There'd been a lot of snow dropped durin' the night, +and some one gets struck with the notion that buildin' snow men would +be the finest sport in the world. They couldn't hardly wait to eat +breakfast before they gets on their blanket clothes and goes at it. +They was rollin' up snow all over the place, as busy as +'longshoremen--all but Pinckney. He gives out that him and me has been +appointed an art committee, to rake in an entrance fee of ten bones +each and decide who gets the purse for doin' the best job. + +"G'wan!" says I. "I couldn't referee no such fool tournament as this." + +"That's right, be modest!" says he. "Don't mind our feelings at all." + +Then Sadie and Mrs. Pell butts in and says I've just got to do it; so I +does. We gives 'em so long to pile up their raw material, and half an +hour after that to carve out what they thinks they can do best, nothin' +barred. Some starts in on Teddy bears, one gent plans out a cop; but +the most of 'em don't try anything harder'n plain snow men, with lumps +of coal for eyes, and pipes stuck in to finish off the face. + +It was about then that Count Skiphauser moves out of the background and +begins to play up strong. He's one of these big, full blooded pretzels +that's been everywhere, and seen everything, and knows it all, and +thinks there ain't anything but what he can do a little better'n +anybody else. + +"Oh, well," says he, "I suppose I must show you what snow carving +really is. I won a prize for this sort of thing in Berlin, you know." + +"It's all over now," says I to Pinckney. "You heard Skippy pickin' +himself for a winner, didn't you?" + +"He's a bounder," says Pinckney, talkin' corner-wise--"lives on his +bridge and poker winnings. He mustn't get the prize." + +But Skiphauser ain't much more'n blocked out a head and shoulders 'fore +it was a cinch he was a ringer, with nothin' but a lot of rank amateurs +against him. Soon's the rest saw what they was up against they all +laid down, for he was makin' 'em look like six car fares. Course, +there wa'n't nothin' to do but join the gallery and watch him win in a +walk. + +"Oh, it's a bust of Bismarck, isn't it?" says one of the women. "How +clever of you, Count!" + +At that Skippy throws out his chest and begins to chuck in the +flourishes. That kind of business suited him down to the ground. He +cocks his head on one side, twists up his lip whiskers like Billy the +Tooth, and goes through all the motions of a man that knows he's givin' +folks a treat. + +"Hates himself, don't he?" says I. "He must have graduated from some +tombstone foundry." + +Pinckney was wild. So was Sadie and Mrs. Purdy Pell, on account of the +free-for-all bein' turned into a game of solitaire. + +"I just wish," says Sadie, "that there was some way of taking him down +a peg. If I only knew of someone who----" + +"I do, if you don't," says I. + +Say, what do you reckon had been cloggin' my thought works all that +time. I takes the three of 'em to one side and springs my proposition, +tellin' 'em I'd put it through if they'd stand for it. Would they? +They're so tickled they almost squeals. + +I gets Swifty Joe at the Studio on the long distance and gives him his +instructions. It was a wonder he got it straight, for sometimes you +can't get an idea into his head without usin' a brace and bit, but this +trip he shows up for a high brow. Pretty quick we gets word that it's +all O. K. Pinckney bulletins it to the crowd that, while Sadie's +pulled out of the competition, she's asked leave to put on a sub, and +that the prize awardin' will be delayed until after the returns are all +in. + +Meantime I climbs into the sleigh and goes down to meet the express. +Sure enough, Cornelia Ann was aboard, a bit hazy about the kind of a +stunt that's expected of her, but ready for anything. I don't go into +many details, for fear of givin' her stage fright; but I lets her know +that if she's got any sculpturin' tricks up her sleeve now's the time +to shake 'em out. + +"I've been tellin' some friends of mine," says I, "that when it comes +to clay art, or plaster of paris art, you was the real lollypop; and I +reckoned that if you could do pieces in mud, you could do 'em just as +well in snow." + +"Snow!" says she. "Why, I never tried." + +Maybe I'd banked too much on Cornelia, or perhaps she was right in +sayin' this was out of her line. Anyway, it was a mighty disappointed +trio that sized her up when I landed her under the porte cochere. + +When she's run her eye over the size and swellness of the place I've +brought her to, and seen a sample of the folks, she looks half scared +to death. And you wouldn't have played her for a fav'rite, either, if +you'd seen the cheap figure she cut, with them big eyes rollin' around, +as if she was huntin' for the nearest way out. But we give her a cup +of hot tea, makes her put on a pair of fleece lined overshoes and +somebody's Persian lamb jacket, and leads her out to make a try for the +championship. + +Some of 'em was sorry of her, and tried to be sociable; but others just +stood around and snickered and whispered things behind their hands. +Honest, I could have thrown brickbats at myself for bein' such a mush +head. That wouldn't have helped any though, so I gets busy and rolls +together a couple of chunks of snow about as big as flour barrels and +piles one on top of the other. + +"It's up to you, Cornie," says I. "Can't you dig something or other +out of that?" + +She don't say whether she can or can't, but just walks around it two or +three times, lookin' at it dreamy, like she was in a trance. Next she +braces up a bit, calls for an old carvin' knife and a kitchen spoon, +and goes to work, the whole push watchin' her as if she was some freak +in a cage. + +I pipes off her motions for awhile real hopeful, and then I edges out +where I could look the other way. Why say, all she'd done was to hew +out something that looks like a lot of soap boxes piled up for a +bonfire. It was a case of funk, I could see that; and maybe I wa'n't +feelin' like I'd carried a gold brick down to the subtreasury and asked +for the acid test. + +Then I begins to hear the "Oh's!" and "Ah's!" come from the crowd. +First off I thought they was guyin' her, but when I strolls back near +enough for a peek at what she was up to, my mouth comes open, too. +Say, you wouldn't believe it less'n you'd seen it done, but she was +just fetchin' out of that heap of snow, most as quick and easy as if +she was unpackin' it from a crate, the stunningest lookin' altogether +girl that I ever see outside a museum. + +I don't know who it was supposed to be, or why. She's holdin' up with +one hand what draperies she's got--which wa'n't any too many--an' with +the other she's reachin' above her head after somethin' or other--maybe +the soap on the top shelf. But she was a beaut, all right. And all +Cornelia was doin' to bring her out was just slashin' away careless +with the knife and spoon handle, hardly stoppin' a second between +strokes. She simply had 'em goggle eyed. I reckon they'd seen things +just as fine and maybe better, but they hadn't had a front seat before, +while a little ninety-pound cinnamon top like Cornelia Ann stepped up +and yanked a whitewashed angel out of a snow heap. + +"It's wonderful!" says Mrs. Purdy Pell. + +"Looks to me like we had Skippy fingerin' the citrus, don't it?" says I. + +The Count he's been standin' there with his mouth open, like the rest +of us, only growin' redder 'n' redder. + +But just then Cornelia makes one last swipe, drops her tools, and steps +back to take a view. We all quits to see what's comin' next. Well, +she looks and looks at that Lady Reacher she's dug out, never sayin' a +word; and before we knows it she's slumped right down there in the +snow, with both hands over her face, doin' the weep act like a kid. + +In two shakes it was Sadie and Mrs. Purdy Pell to the rescue, one on +each side, while the rest of us gawps on and looks foolish. + +"What is it, you poor darling?" says Sadie. + +Finally, after a good weep, Cornie unloosens her trouble. "Oh, oh!" +says she. "I just know it's going to rain to-morrow!" + +Now wouldn't that give you a foolish fit? + +"What of it?" says Sadie. + +"That," says she, pointin' to the snow lady. "She'll be gone forever. +Oh, it's wicked, wicked!" + +"Well," says I, "she's too big to go in the ice box." + +"Never mind, dear," says Mrs. Purdy Pell; "you shall stay right here +and do another one, in solid marble. I'll give you a thousand for a +duplicate of that." + +"And then you must do something for me," says Sadie. + +"And me, too," says Mrs. Dicky Madison. + +I didn't wait to hear any more, for boostin' lady sculpturesses ain't +my reg'lar work. But, from all I hear of Cornelia Ann, she won't paste +labels in any broom fact'ry. + +For your simple liver and slow quitter, art's all right; but it's a +long shot, at that. What? + + + + +XVI + +WHY FERDY DUCKED + +Say, there's no tellin', is there? Sometimes the quietest runnin' +bubbles blows up with the biggest bang. Now look at Ferdy. He was as +retirin' and modest as a new lodge member at his first meetin'. Why, +he's so anxious to dodge makin' a show of himself that when he comes +here for a private course I has to lock the Studio door and post Swifty +Joe on the outside to see that nobody butts in. + +All the Dobsons is that way. They're the kind of folks that lives on +Fifth-ave., with the front shades always pulled down, and they shy at +gettin' their names in the papers like it was bein' served with a +summons. + +Course, they did have their dose of free advertisin' once, when that +Tootsy Peroxide bobbed up and tried to break old Peter Dobson's will; +but that case happened so long ago, and there's been so many like it +since, that hardly anybody but the Dobsons remembers it. Must have +been a good deal of a jolt at the time, though; for as far as I've +seen, they're nice folks, and the real thing in the fat wad line, +specially Ferdy. He's that genteel and refined he has to have pearl +grey boxin' gloves to match his gym. suit. + +Well, I wa'n't thinkin' any of him, or his set, havin' just had a +session with a brewer's son that I've took on durin' the dull season, +when I looks out into the front office and sees my little old Bishop +standin' there moppin' his face. + +"Hello, Bishop!" I sings out. "Thought you was in Newport, herdin' the +flock." + +"So I was, Shorty," says he, "until six hours ago. I came down to look +for a stray lamb." + +"Tried Wall Street?" says I. + +"He is not that kind of a lamb," says the Bishop. "It is Ferdinand +Dobson. Have you seen him recently?" + +"What! Ferdy?" says I. "Not for weeks. They're all up at their Lenox +place, ain't they?" + +No, they wa'n't. And then the Bishop puts me next to a little news +item that hadn't got into the society column yet. Ferdy, after gettin' +to be most twenty-five, has been hooked. The girl's name was Alicia, +and soon's I heard it I placed her, havin' seen her a few times at +different swell ranches where I've been knockin' around in the +background. As I remembers her, she has one of these long, high toned +faces, and a shape to match--not what you'd call a neck twister, but +somethin' real classy and high browed, just the sort you'd look for +Ferdy to tag. + +Seems they'd been doin' the lovey-dovey for more'n a year; but all on +the sly, meetin' each other at afternoon teas, and now and then havin' +a ten-minute hand holdin' match under a palm somewhere. They was so +cute about it that even their folks didn't suspect it was a case of +honey and honey boy; not that anyone would have raised a kick, but +because Ferdy don't want any fuss made about it. + +When Alicia's mother gets the facts, though, she writes a new program. +She don't stand for springin' any quiet weddin's on her set. She plans +a big party, where the engagement bulletin is to be flashed on the +screen reg'lar and proper, so's folks can be orderin' their dresses and +weddin' presents. + +Ferdy balks some at the thought of bein' dragged to the centre of the +stage; but he grits his teeth and tells 'em that for this once they can +go as far as they like. He even agrees to leave home for a week and +mix it at a big house party, just to get himself broke in to meetin' +strangers. + +Up to within two days of the engagement stunt he was behavin' lovely; +and the next thing they knows, just when he should be gettin' ready to +show up at Newport, he can't be found. It has all the looks of his +leavin' his clothes on the bank and jumpin' the night freight. Course, +the Dobsons ain't sayin' a word to Alicia's folks yet. They gets their +friends together to organise a still hunt for Ferdy; and the Bishop +bein' one of the inside circle, he's sent out as head scout. + +"And I am at my wits' ends," says he. "No one has seen him in Newport, +and I can't find him at any of his clubs here." + +"How about the Fifth-ave. mausoleum?" says I. + +"His man is there," says the Bishop; "but he seems unable to give me +any information." + +"Does, eh?" says I. "Well, you take it from me that if anyone's got a +line on Ferdy, it's that clam faced Kupps of his. He's been trained so +fine in the silence business that he hardly dares open his mouth when +he eats. Go up there and put him through the wringer." + +"Do what?" says the Bishop. + +"Give him the headquarters quiz," says I. "Tell him you come straight +from mother and sisters, and that Ferdy's got to be found." + +"I hardly feel equal to doing just that," says the Bishop in his mild +way. "Now if you could only----" + +"Why, sure!" says I. "It'd do me good to take a whirl out of that +Englishman. I'll make him give up!" + +He's a bird though, that Kupps. I hadn't talked with him two minutes +before I would have bet my pile he knew all about where Ferdy was +roostin' and what he was up to; but when it come to draggin' out the +details, you might just as well have been tryin' to pry up a pavin' +stone with a fountain pen. Was Ferdy in town, or out of town, and when +would he be back? Kupps couldn't say. He wouldn't even tell how long +it was since he had seen Ferdy last. And say, you know how pig headed +one of them hen brained Cockneys can be? I feels my collar gettin' +tight. + +"Look here, Hiccups!" says I. "You----" + +"Kupps, sir," says he. "Thomas Kupps is my full nyme, sir." + +"Well, Teacups, then, if that suits you better," says I. "You don't +seem to have got it into your head that the Bishop ain't just buttin' +in here for the fun of the thing. This matter of retrievin' Ferdy is +serious. Now you're sure he didn't leave any private messages, or +notes or anything of that kind?" + +"Nothink of the sort, sir; nothink whatever," says Kupps. + +"Well, you just show us up to his rooms," says I, "and we'll have a +look around for ourselves. Eh, Bishop?" + +"Perhaps it would be the best thing to do," says the Bishop. + +Kupps didn't want to do it; but I gives him a look that changes his +mind, and up we goes. I was thinkin' that if Ferdy had got chilly feet +at the last minute and done the deep dive, maybe he'd left a few lines +layin' around his desk. There wa'n't anything in sight, though; +nothin' but a big photograph of a wide, full chested lady, propped up +against the rail. + +"That don't look much like the fair Alicia," says I. + +The Bishop puts on his nigh-to glasses and says it ain't. He thinks it +must have been took of a lady that he'd seen Ferdy chinnin' at the +house party, where he got his last glimpse of him. + +"Good deal of a hummin' bird, she is, eh?" says I, pickin' it up. +"Tutty tut! Look what's here!" Behind it was a photo of Alicia. + +"And here's somethin' else," says I. On the back of the big picture +was scribbled, "From Ducky to Ferdy," and the date. + +"Yesterday!" gasps the Bishop. + +"Well, well!" says I. "That's advancin' the spark some! If he meets +her only a week or so ago, and by yesterday she's got so far as bein' +his ducky, it looks like Alicia'd have to get out and take the car +ahead." + +The Bishop acts stunned, gazin' from me to the picture, as if he'd been +handed one on the dizzy bone. "You--you don't mean," says he, "that +you suspect Ferdy of--of----" + +"I hate to think it," says I; "but this looks like a quick shift. +Kupps, who's Ferdy's lady friend?" + +"Mr. Dobson didn't sye, sir," says Kupps. + +"Very thoughtless of him," says I. "Come on, Bishop, we'll take this +along as a clue and see what Vandy has to say." + +He's a human kodak, Vandy is--makes a livin' takin' pictures for the +newspapers. You can't break into the swell push, or have an argument +with Teddy, or be tried for murder, without Vandy's showin' up to make +a few negatives. So I flashes the photo of Ducky on him. + +"Who's the wide one?" says I. + +"Why, don't you know who that is, Shorty?" says he. + +"Say, do you think I'd be chasin' up any flashlight pirate like you, if +I did?" says I. "What's her name?" + +"That's Madam Brooklini, of course," says he. + +"What, the thousand-dollar-a-minute warbler?" says I. "And me seein' +her lithographs all last winter! Gee, Bishop! I thought you followed +grand opera closer'n that." + +"I should have recalled her," says the Bishop; "but I see so many +faces----" + +"Only a few like that, though," says I. "Vandy, where do you reckon +Mrs. Greater New York could be located just about now?" + +Vandy has the whole story down pat. Seems she's been over here out of +season bringin' suit against her last manager; but havin' held him up +for everything but the gold fillin' in his front teeth, she is booked +to sail back to her Irish castle at four in the mornin'. He knows the +steamer and the pier number. + +"Four A. M., eh?" says I. "That means she's likely to be aboard now, +gettin' settled. Bishop, if that Ducky business was a straight steer, +it's ten to one that a friend of ours is there sayin' good-bye. Shall +we follow it up?" + +"I can hardly credit it," says he. "However, if you think----" + +"It's no cinch," says I; "but this is a case where it won't do to bank +on past performances. From all the signs, Ferdy has struck a new gait." + +The Bishop throws up both hands. "How clearly you put it," says he, +"and how stupid of me not to understand! Should we visit the steamer, +or not?" + +"Bishop," says I, "you're a good guesser. We should." + +And there wa'n't any trouble about locatin' the high artist. All we +has to do is to walk along the promenade deck until we comes to a suite +where the cabin stewards was poppin' in and out, luggin' bunches of +flowers and baskets of fruit, and gettin' the book signed for +telegrams. The Bishop was for askin' questions and sendin' in his +card; but I gets him by the sleeve and tows him right in. + +I hadn't made any wrong guess, either. There in the corner of the +state room, planted in a big wicker arm chair, with a jar of long +stemmed American beauts on one side, was Madam Brooklini. On the other +side, sittin' edgeways on a canvas stool and holdin' her left hand, was +Ferdy. + +I could make a guess as to how the thing had come around; Ferdy +breakin' from his shell at the house party, runnin' across Brooklini +under a soft light, and losin' his head the minute she begins cooin' +low notes to him. That's what she was doin' now, him gazin' up at her, +and her gazin' down at him. It was about the mushiest performance I +ever see. + +"Ahem!" says the Bishop, clearin' his throat and blushin' a lovely +maroon colour. "I--er--we did not intend to intrude; but----" + +Then it was up to Ferdy to show the red. He opens his mouth and gawps +at us for a whole minute before he can get out a word. "Why--why, +Bishop!" he pants. "What--how----" + +Before he has time to choke, or the Bishop can work up a case of +apoplexy, I jumps into the ring. "Excuse us doin' the goat act," says +I; "but the Bishop has got some word for you from the folks at home, +and he wants to get it off his mind." + +"Ah, friends of yours, Ferdy?" says Madam Brooklini, throwin' us about +four hundred dollars' worth of smile. + +There was nothin' for Ferdy to do then but pull himself together and +make us all acquainted. And say, I never shook hands with so much +jewelry all at once before! She has three or four bunches of sparks on +each finger, not to mention a thumb ring. Oh, there wa'n't any +mistakin' who skimmed the cream off the box office receipts after you'd +took a look at her! + +And for a straight front Venus she was the real maraschino. Course, +even if the complexion was true, you wouldn't put her down as one of +this spring's hatch; but for a broad, heavy weight girl she was the +fancy goods. And when she cuts loose with that eighteen-carat voice of +hers, and begins to roll them misbehavin' eyes, you forgot how the +chair was creakin' under her. The Bishop has all he can do to remember +why he was there; but he manages to get out that he'd like a few +minutes on the side with Ferdy. + +"If your message relates in any way to my return to Newport," says +Ferdy, stiffenin' up, "it is useless. I am not going there!" + +"But, my dear Ferdy----" begins the Bishop, when the lady cuts in. + +"That's right, Bishop," says she. "I do hope you can persuade the +silly boy to stop following me around and teasing me to marry him." + +"Oh, naughty!" says I under my breath. + +The Bishop just looks from one to the other, and then he braces up and +says, "Ferdinand, this is not possible, is it?" + +It was up to Ferdy again. He gives a squirm or two as he catches the +Bishop's eye, and the dew was beginnin' to break out on his noble brow, +when Ducky reaches over and gives his hand a playful little squeeze. +That was a nerve restorer. + +"Bishop," says he, "I must tell you that I am madly, hopelessly, in +love with this lady, and that I mean to make her my wife." + +"Isn't he the dearest booby you ever saw!" gurgles Madam Brooklini. +"He has been saying nothing but that for the last five days. And now +he says he is going to follow me across the ocean and keep on saying +it. But you must stop, Ferdy; really, you must." + +"Never!" says Ferdy, gettin' a good grip on the cut glass exhibit. + +"Such persistence!" says Ducky, shiftin' her searchlights from him to +us and back again. "And he knows I have said I would not marry again. +I mustn't. My managers don't like it. Why, every time I marry they +raise a most dreadful row. But what can I do? Ferdy insists, you see; +and if he keeps it up, I just know I shall have to take him. Please be +good, Ferdy!" + +Wouldn't that make you seasick? But the Bishop comes to the front like +he'd heard a call to man the lifeboat. + +"It may influence you somewhat," says he, "to learn that for nearly a +year Ferdinand has been secretly engaged to a very estimable young +woman." + +"I know," says she, tearin' off a little giggle. "Ferdy has told me +all about Alicia. What a wicked, deceitful wretch he is! isn't he? +Aren't you ashamed, Ferdy, to act so foolish over me?" + +If Ferdy was, he hid it well. All he seemed willin' to do was to sit +there, holdin' her hand and lookin' as soft as a custard pie, while the +Lady Williamsburg tells what a tough job she has dodgin' matrimony, on +account of her yieldin' disposition. I didn't know whether to hide my +face in my hat, or go out and lean over the rail. I guess the Bishop +wa'n't feelin' any too comfortable either; but he was there to do his +duty, so he makes one last stab. + +"Ferdinand," says he, "your mother asked me to say that----" + +"Tell her I was never so happy in my life," says Ferdy, pattin' a +broadside of solitaires and marquise rings. + +"Come on, Bishop," says I. "There's only one cure for a complaint of +that kind, and it looks like Ferdy was bound to take it." + +We was just startin' for the deck, when the door was blocked by a +steward luggin' in another sheaf of roses, and followed by a couple of +middle aged, jolly lookin' gents, smokin' cigars and marchin' arm in +arm. One was a tall, well built chap in a silk hat; the other was a +short, pussy, ruby beaked gent in French flannels and a Panama. + +"Hello, sweety!" says the tall one. + +"Peekaboo, dearie!" sings out the other. + +"Dick! Jimmy!" squeals Madam Brooklini, givin' a hand to each of 'em, +and leavin' Ferdy holdin' the air. "Oh, how delightfully thoughtful of +you!" + +"Tried to ring in old Grubby, too," says Dick; "but he couldn't get +away. He chipped in for the flowers, though." + +"Dear old Grubby!" says she. "Let's see, he was my third, wasn't he?" + +"Why, dearie!" says Dicky boy, "I was Number Three. Grubby was your +second." + +"Really!" says she. "But I do get you so mixed. Oh!" and then she +remembers Ferdy. "Ducky, dear," she goes on, "I do want you to know +these gentlemen--two of my former husbands." + +"Wha-a-at!" gasps Ferdy, his eyes buggin' out. + +I hears the Bishop groan and flop on a seat behind me. Honest, it was +straight! Dick and Jimmy was a couple of discards, old Grubby was +another, and inside of a minute blamed if she hadn't mentioned a +fourth, that was planted somewhere on the other side. Course, for a +convention there wouldn't have been a straight quorum; but there was +enough answerin' roll call to make it pass for a reunion, all right. + +And it was a peach while it lasted. The pair of has-beens didn't have +long to stay, one havin' to get back to Chicago and the other bein' +billed to start on a yachtin' trip. They'd just run over to say by-by; +and tell how they was plannin' an annual dinner, with the judges and +divorce lawyers for guests. Yes, yes, they was a jolly couple, them +two! All the Bishop could do was lay back and fan himself as he +listens, once in awhile whisperin' to himself, "My, my!" As for Ferdy, +he looked like he'd been hypnotised and was waitin' to be woke up. + +The pair was sayin' good-bye for the third and last time, when in +rushes a high strung, nervous young feller with a pencil behind his ear +and a pad in his hand. + +"Well, Larry, what is it now?" snaps out Madam Brooklini, doin' the +lightnin' change act with her voice. "I am engaged, you see." + +"Can't help it," says Larry. "Got fourteen reporters and eight +snapshot men waiting to do the sailing story for the morning editions. +Shall I bring 'em up?" + +"But I am entertaining two of my ex-husbands," says the lady, "and----" + +"Great!" says Larry. "We'll put 'em in the group. Who's the other?" + +"Oh, that's only Ferdy," says she. "I haven't married him yet." + +"Bully!" says Larry. "We can get half a column of space out of him +alone. He goes in the pictures too. We'll label him 'Next,' or +'Number Five Elect,' or something like that. Line 'em up outside, will +you?" + +"Oh, pshaw!" says Madam Brooklini. "What a nuisance these press agents +are! But Larry is so enterprising. Come, we'll make a splendid group, +the four of us. Come, Ferdy." + +"Reporters!" Ferdy lets it come out of him kind of hoarse and husky, +like he'd just seen a ghost. + +But I knew the view that he was gettin'; his name in the headlines, his +picture on the front page, and all the chappies at the club and the +whole Newport crowd chucklin' and nudgin' each other over the story of +how he was taggin' around after an op'ra singer that had a syndicate of +second hand husbands. + +"No, no, no!" says he. It was the only time I ever heard Ferdy come +anywhere near a yell, and I wouldn't have believed he could have done +it if I hadn't had my eyes on him as he jumps clear of the corner, +makes a flyin' break through the bunch, and streaks it down the deck +for the forward companionway. + +Me and the Bishop didn't wait to see the finish of that group picture. +We takes after Ferdy as fast as the Bishop's wind would let us, he +bein' afraid that Ferdy was up to somethin' desperate, like jumpin' off +the dock. All Ferdy does, though, is jump into a cab and drive for +home, us trailin' on behind. We was close enough at the end of the run +to see him bolt through the door; but Kupps tells us that Mr. Dobson +has left orders not to let a soul into the house. + +Early next mornin', though, the Bishop comes around and asks me to go +up while he tries again, and after we've stood on the steps for ten +minutes, waitin' for Kupps to take in a note, we're shown up to Ferdy's +bed room. He's in silk pajamas and bath robe, lookin' white and hollow +eyed. Every mornin' paper in town is scattered around the room, and +not one of 'em with less than a whole column about how Madam Brooklini +sailed for Europe. + +"Any of 'em got anything to say about Number Five?" says I. + +"Thank heaven, no!" groans Ferdy. "Bishop, what do you suppose poor +dear Alicia thinks of me, though?" + +"Why, my son," says the Bishop, his little eyes sparklin', "I suppose +she is thinking that it is 'most time for you to arrive in Newport, as +you promised." + +"Then she doesn't know what an ass I've been?" says Ferdy. "No one has +told her?" + +"Shorty, have you?" says the Bishop. + +And when Ferdy sees me grinnin', and it breaks on him that me and the +Bishop are the only ones that know about this dippy streak of his, he's +the thankfulest cuss you ever saw. Alicia? He could hardly get there +quick enough to suit him; and the knot's to be tied inside of the next +month. + +"Marryin's all right," says I to Ferdy, "so long's you don't let the +habit grow on you." + + + + +XVII + +WHEN SWIFTY WAS GOING SOME + +Say, I don't play myself for any human cheese tester, but I did think I +had Swifty Joe Gallagher all framed up long ago. Not that I ever made +any special study of Swifty; but knowin' him for as long as I have, and +havin' him helpin' me in the Studio, I got the notion that I was wise +to most of his curves. I've got both hands in the air now, though. + +Goin' back over the last few months too, I can see where I might have +got a line on him before. But, oh no! Nothin' could jar me out of +believin' he wouldn't ever run against the form sheet I'd made out. +The first glimmer I gets was when I finds Joe in the front office one +day, planted before the big lookin' glass, havin' a catch as catch can +with his hair. + +"Hully chee!" says he, dippin' one of my military brushes in the wash +basin. "That's fierce, ain't it, Shorty?" + +"If it's your nerve in helpin' yourself to my bureau knickknacks," says +I, "I agree with you." + +"Ah, can the croak!" says he. "I ain't eatin' the bristles off, am I!" + +"Oh, I'm not fussin'," says I; "but what you need to use on that thatch +is a currycomb and a lawn rake." + +"Ah, say!" says he, "I don't see as it's so much worse than others I +know of. It's all right when I can get it to lay down in the back. +How's that, now?" + +"Great!" says I. "Couldn't be better if you'd used fish glue." + +Maybe you never noticed how Swifty's top piece is finished off? He has +a mud coloured growth that's as soft as a shoe brush. It behaves well +enough when it's dry; but after he's got it good and wet it breaks up +into ridges that overlap, same as shingles on a roof. + +But then, you wouldn't be lookin' for any camel's hair finish on a nut +like Swifty's--not with that face. Course, he ain't to blame for the +undershot jaw, nor the way his ears lop, nor the width of his smile. +We don't all have gifts like that, thanks be! And it wa'n't on purpose +Swifty had his nose bent in. That come from not duckin' quick enough +when Gans swung with his right. + +So long as he kept in his class, though, and wa'n't called on to +understudy Kyrle Bellew, Swifty met all the specifications. If I was +wantin' a parlour ornament, I might shy some at Swifty's style of +beauty; but showin' bilious brokers how to handle the medicine ball is +a job that don't call for an exchange of photographs. He may have an +outline that looks like a map of a stone quarry, and perhaps his ways +are a little on the fritz, but Swifty's got good points that I couldn't +find bunched again if I was to hunt through a crowd. So, when I find +him worryin' over the set of his back hair, I gets interested. + +"What's the coiffure for, anyway?" says I. "Goin' to see the girl, eh?" + +Course, that was a josh. You can't look at Swifty and try to think of +him doin' the Romeo act without grinnin'. + +"Ahr, chee!" says he. + +Now, I've sprung that same jolly on him a good many times; but I never +see him work up a colour over it before. Still, the idea of him +gettin' kittenish was too much of a strain on the mind for me to follow +up. + +It was the same about his breakin' into song. He'd never done that, +either, until one mornin' I hears a noise comin' from the back room +that sounds like some one blowin' on a bottle. I steps over to the +door easy, and hanged if I didn't make out that it was Swifty takin' a +crack at something that might be, "Oh, how I love my Lulu!" + +"You must," says I, "if it makes you feel as bad as all that. Does +Lulu know it?" + +"Ahr, chee!" says he. + +Ever hear Swifty shoot that over his shoulder without turnin' his head? +Talk about your schools of expression! None of 'em could teach anyone +to put as much into two words as Swifty does into them. They're a +whole vocabulary, the way he uses 'em. + +"Was you tryin' to sing," says I, "or just givin' an imitation of a +steamboat siren on a foggy night?" + +But all I could get out of Swifty was another "Ahr, chee!" He was too +happy and satisfied to join in any debate, and inside of ten minutes +he's at it again; so I lets him spiel away. + +"Well," thinks I, "I'm glad my joy don't have any such effect on me as +that. I s'pose I can stand it, if he can." + +It wa'n't more'n two nights later that I gets another shock. I was +feelin' a little nervous, to begin with, for I'd billed myself to do a +stunt I don't often tackle. It was nothin' else than pilotin' a fluff +delegation to some art studio doin's. Sounds like a Percy job, don't +it? But it was somethin' put up to me in a way I couldn't dodge. + +Maybe you remember me tellin' you awhile back about Cornelia Ann +Belter? She was the Minnekeegan girl that had a room on the top floor +over the Physical Culture Studio, and was makin' a stab at the +sculpture game--the one that we got out to Rockywold as a ringer in the +snow carvin' contest. Got her placed now? + +Well, you know how that little trick of makin' a snow angel brought her +in orders from Mrs. Purdy Pell, and Sadie, and the rest? And she +didn't do a thing but make good, either. I hadn't seen her since she +quit the building; but I'd heard how she was doin' fine, and here the +other day I gets a card sayin' she'd be pleased to have my company on a +Wednesday night at half after eight, givin' an address on Fifth avenue. + +"Corny must be carvin' the cantaloup," thinks I, and then forgets all +about it until Sadie holds me up and wants to know if I'm goin'. + +"Nix," says I. "Them art studio stunts is over my head." + +"Oh, pshaw!" says Sadie. "How long since you have been afraid of Miss +Belter? Didn't you and I help her to get her start? She'll feel real +badly if you don't come." + +"She'll get over that," says I. + +"But Mrs. Pell and I will have to go alone if you don't come with us," +says she. "Mr. Pell is out of town, and Pinckney is too busy with +those twins and that Western girl of his. You've got to come, Shorty." + +"That settles it," says I. "Why didn't you say so first off?" + +So that was what I was doin' at quarter of eight that night, in my open +face vest and dinky little tuxedo, hustlin' along 42d-st., wonderin' if +the folks took me for a head waiter late to his job. You see, after I +gets all ragged out I finds I've left my patent leathers at the Studio. +Swifty has said he was goin' to take the night off too, so I'm some +surprised to see the front office all lit up like there was a ball +goin' on up there. I takes the steps three at a time, expectin' to +find a couple of yeggs movin' out the safe; but when I throws the door +open what should I see, planted in front of the mirror, but Swifty Joe. + +Not that I was sure it was him till I'd had a second look. It was +Swifty's face, and Swifty's hair, but the costume was a philopena. It +would have tickled a song and dance artist to death. Anywhere off'n +the variety stage, unless it was at a Fourth Ward chowder party, it +would have drawn a crowd. Perhaps you can throw up a view of a +pin-head check in brown and white, blocked off into four-inch squares +with red and green lines; a double breasted coat with scalloped cuffs +on the sleeves, and silk faced lapels; a pink and white shirt striped +like an awnin'; a spotted butterfly tie; yellow shoes in the latest +oleomargarin tint; and a caffy-o-lay bean pot derby with a half-inch +brim to finish off the picture. It was a sizzler, all right. + +For a minute I stands there with my mouth open and my eyes bugged, +takin' in the details. If I could, I would have skipped without sayin' +a word, for I see I'd butted in on somethin' that was sacred and +secret. But Swifty's heard me come in, and he's turned around waitin' +for me to give a verdict. Not wantin' to hurt his feelin's, I has to +go careful. + +"Swifty," says I, "is that you?" + +He only grins kind of foolish, sticks his chin out, and saws his neck +against his high collar, like a cow usin' a scratchin' post. + +"Blamed if I didn't take you for Henry Dixey, first shot," says I, +walkin' around and gettin' a new angle. "Gee! but that's a swell +outfit!" + +"Think so?" says he. "Will it make 'em sit up?" + +"Will it!" says I. "Why, you'll have 'em on their toes." + +I didn't know how far I could go on that line without givin' him a +grouch; but he seems to like it, so I tears off some more of the same. + +"Swifty," says I, "you've got a bunch of tiger lilies lookin' like a +faded tea rose. You've got a get-up there that would win out at a +Cakewalk, and if you'll take it over to Third-ave. Sunday afternoon +you'll be the best bet on the board." + +"Honest?" says he, grinnin' way back to his ears. "I was after +somethin' a little fancy, I'll own up." + +"Well, you got it," says I. "Where'd you have it built?" + +"Over the bridge," says he. + +Say, it's a wonder some of them South Brooklyn cloth carpenters don't +get the blind staggers, turnin' out clothes like that; ain't it? + +"Must be some special occasion?" says I. + +"D'jer think I'd be blowin' myself like this if it wa'n't?" says he. +"You bet, it's extra special." + +"With a skirt in the background?" says I. + +"Uh-huh," says he, springin' another grin. + +"Naughty, naughty!" says I. + +"Ahr, say," says he, tryin' to look peevish, "you oughter know better'n +that! You never heard of me chasin' the Lizzies yet, did you? This is +a real lady,--nice and classy, see?" + +"Some one on Fifth-ave.?" says I, unwindin' a little string. But he +whirls round like I'd jabbed him with a pin. + +"Who tipped you off to that?" says he. + +"Guessed it by the clothes," says I. + +That simmers him down, and I could see he wanted to be confidential the +worst way. He wouldn't let go of her name; but I gathers it's some one +he's known for quite a spell, and that she's sent him a special invite +for this evenin'. + +"Asks me to call around, see?" says he. "Now, I put it up to you, +Shorty, don't that look like I got some standin' with her?" + +"She must think pretty well of you, that's a fact," says I, "and I +judge that you're willin' to be her honey boy. Ain't got the ring in +your vest pocket, have you?" + +"Maybe that ain't so much of a joke as you think," says he, settin' the +bean pod lid a little more on one side. + +"Z-z-z-ipp!" says I. "That's goin' some! Well, well, but you are a +cute one, Swifty. Why, I never suspicioned such a thing. Luck to you, +my lad, luck to you!" and I pats him on the back. "I don't know what +chances you had before; but in that rig you can't lose." + +"I guess it helps," says he, twistin' his neck to get a back view. + +He was puttin' on the last touches when I left. Course, I was some +stunned, specially by the Fifth-ave. part of it. But then, it's a long +street, and it's gettin' so now that all kinds lives on it. + +I was a little behind sched. when I gets to Sherry's, where I was to +pick up Sadie and Mrs. Purdy Pell; but at that it was ten or fifteen +minutes before they gets the tourin' car called up and we're all tucked +away inside. It don't take us long to cover the distance, though, and +at twenty to nine we hauls up at Miss Belter's number. I was just +goin' to pile out when I gets a glimpse of a pair of bright yellow +shoes carryin' a human checker board. + +"S-s-s-sh!" says I to the ladies. "Wait up a second till we see where +he goes." + +"Why, who is it?" says Sadie. + +"Swifty Joe," says I. "You might not think it from the rainbow +uniform, but it's him. That's the way he dresses the part when he +starts out to kneel to his lady love." + +"Really!" says Mrs. Pell. "Is he going to do that?" + +"Got it straight from him," says I. "There! he's worked his courage +up. Now he takes the plunge." + +"Why!" says Sadie, "that is Miss Belter's number he's going into." + +"She don't live on all five floors, does she?" says I. + +"No; but it's odd, just the same," says she. + +I thought so myself; so I gives 'em the whole story of how I come to +know about what he was up to. By that time he was climbing the stairs, +and as soon as we finds the right door I forgets all about Swifty in +sizin' up Cornelia Ann. + +Say, what a difference a little of the right kind of dry goods will +make in a girl, won't it? The last I saw of Cornie she was wearin' a +skirt that sagged in the back, a punky lid that might have come off the +top of an ash can, and shoes that had run over at the heel. + +But prosperity had sure blown her way, and she'd bought a wardrobe to +suit the times. Not that she'd gone and loaded herself down like she +was a window display. It was just a cucumber green sort of cheese +cloth that floated around her, and there wa'n't a frill on it except +some silvery braid where the square hole had been chopped out to let +her head and part of her shoulders through. But at that it didn't need +any Paris tag. + +And say, I'd always had an idea that Cornelia Ann was rated about third +row back. Seein' the way she showed up there, though, with all that +cinnamon coloured hair of hers piled on top of her head, and her big +eyes glistenin', I had to revise the frame up. It didn't take me long +to find out she'd shook the shrinkin' violet game, too. She steps up +and gives us the glad hand and the gurgly jolly just as if she'd been +doin' it all her life. + +It wa'n't any cheap hang-out that Cornie has tacked her name plate on, +either. There was expensive rugs on the floor, and brass lamps hangin' +from the ceilin', and pieces of tin armor hung around on the walls, +with nary a sign of an oil stove or a foldin' bed. + +A lot of folks was already on the ground. They was swells too, and +they was floatin' around so thick that it was two or three minutes +before I gets a view of what was sittin' under the big yellow sik lamp +shade in the corner. Say, who do you guess? Swifty Joe! Honest, for +a minute I thought I must be havin' a nerve spasm and seein' things +that wa'n't so. But it was him, all right; big as life, and lookin' as +prominent as a soap ad. on the back cover of a magazine. + +There was plenty of shady places in the room that he might have picked, +but he has hunted out the bright spot. He's sittin' on one of these +funny cross legged Roman stools, with his toes turned in, and them +grid-iron pants pulled up to show about five inches of MacGregor plaid +socks. And he has a satisfied look on his face that I couldn't account +for no way. + +Course, I thinks right off that he's broke into the wrong ranch and is +waitin' for some one to come and show him the way out. And then, all +of a sudden, I begins to remember things. You know, it was Swifty that +Cornelia Ann used to get to pose for her when she had the top floor +back in our building. She made an embossed clay picture of him that +Joe used to gaze at by the hour. And once he showed me her photo that +she'd given him. Then there was the special invite he'd been tellin' +me about. Not bein' used to gettin' such things, he'd mistook that +card to her studio openin' as a sort of private billy ducks, and he'd +built up a dream about him and her havin' a hand-holdin' session all to +themselves. + +"Great cats!" thinks I. "Can it be Cornelia Ann he's gone on?" + +Well, all you had to do to get the answer was to watch Swifty follow +her around with his eyes. You'd thought, findin' himself in a bunch of +top-notchers like that, and rigged out the way he was, he'd been +feelin' like a green strawb'ry in the bottom of the basket. But +nothin' of that kind had leaked through his thick skull. Cornie was +there, and he was there, dressed accordin' to his own designs, and he +was contented and happy as a turtle on a log, believin' the rest of us +had only butted in. + +I was feelin' all cut up over his break, and tryin' to guess how +Cornelia was standin' it, when she floats up to me and says: + +"Wasn't it sweet of Mr. Gallagher to come? Have you seen him?" + +"Seen him!" says I. "You don't notice any bandage over my eyes, do +you? Notice the get up. Why, he looks like a section of a billboard." + +"Oh, I don't mind his clothes a bit," says she. "I think he's real +picturesque. Besides, I haven't forgotten that he used to pose for me +when hiring models meant going without meals. I wish you would see +that he doesn't get lonesome before I have a chance to speak to him +again." + +"He don't look like he needed any chirkin' up," says I; "but I'll go +give him the howdy." + +So I trots over to the yellow shade and ranges myself up in front of +him. "You might's well own up, Swifty," says I. "Is Cornie the one?" + +"Uh-huh," says he. + +"Told her about it yet?" says I. + +"Ahr, chee!" says he. "Give a guy a chance." + +"Sure," says I. "But go slow, Joey, go slow." + +I don't know how it happened, for all I told about it was Sadie and +Mrs. Purdy Pell; but it wa'n't long before everyone in the joint was +next to Swifty, and was pipin' him off. They all has to be introduced +and make a try at gettin' him to talk. For awhile he has the time of +his life. Mostly he just grins; but now and then he throws in an "Ahr, +chee!" that knocks 'em silly. + +The only one that don't fall for what's up is Cornelia Ann. She gets +him to help her pass out the teacups and the cake, and tells everyone +about how Swifty helped her out on the model business when she was +livin' on pickled pigs' feet and crackers. Fin'lly folks begins to dig +out their wraps and come up to tell her how they'd had a bully time. +But Joe never makes a move. + +Sadie and Mrs. Pell wa'n't in any hurry either, and the first thing I +knows there's only the five of us left. I see Sadie lookin' from Joe +to Cornie, and then passin' Mrs. Pell the smile. Cornelia Ann sees it +too, and she has a synopsis of the precedin' chapters all in a minute. +But she don't get flustered a bit. She sails over to the coat room, +gets Swifty's lid, and comes luggin' it out. + +"I'm awfully glad you came, Mr. Gallagher," says she, handin' out the +bean pot, "and I hope to see you again when I have another +reception--next year." + +"Eh?" says Swifty, like he was wakin' up from a dream. "Next year! +Why, I thought that--" + +"Yes, but you shouldn't," says she. "Good night." + +Then he sees the hat, and a light breaks. He grabs the lid and makes a +dash for the door. + +"Isn't he odd?" says Cornelia. + +Well say, I didn't know whether I'd get word that night that Swifty had +jumped off the bridge, or had gone back to the fusel oil. He didn't do +either one, though; but when he shows up at the Studio next mornin' he +was wearin' his old clothes, and his face looks like he was foreman of +a lemon grove. + +"Ah, brace up, Swifty," says I. "There's others." + +He just shakes his head and sighs, and goes off into a corner as if he +wanted to die slow and lingerin'. + +Then Saturday afternoon, when it turns off so warm and we begins the +noon shut down, I thinks I'll take a little run down to Coney and hear +the frankfurters bark. I was watchin' 'em load the boys and girls into +a roller coaster, when along comes a car that has something familiar in +it. Here's Swifty, wearin' his brass band suit, a cigar stickin' out +of one corner of his mouth, and an arm around a fluffy haired Flossie +girl that was chewin' gum and wearin' a fruit basket hat. They was +lookin' happy. + +"Say, Swifty," I sings out, "don't forget about Cornie." + +"Ahr, chee!" says he, and off they goes down the chute for another +ten-cent ride. + +But say, I'm glad all them South Brooklyn art clothes ain't goin' to be +wasted. + + + + +XVIII + +PLAYING WILBUR TO SHOW + +It's all right. You can put the Teddy sign on anything you read in the +papers about matrimony's bein' a lost art, and collectin' affinities +bein' the latest fad; for the plain, straight, old, +love-honour-and-cherish business is still in the ring. I have +Pinckney's word for it, and Pinckney ought to know. Oh, yes, he's an +authority now. Sure, it was Miss Gerty, the twin tamer. And say, what +do you suppose they did with that gift pair of terrors, Jack and Jill, +while they was makin' the weddin' tour? Took 'em along. Honest, they +travels for ten weeks with two kids, five trunks, and a couple of maids. + +"You don't look like no honeymoon couple," says I, when I meets 'em in +Jersey City. "I'd take you for an explorin' party." + +"We are," says Pinckney, grinnin'. "We've been explorin' the western +part of the United States. We have discovered Colorado Springs, the +Yosemite, and a lot more very interesting places, all over again." + +"You'll be makin' a new map, I expect," says I. + +"It would be new to most New Yorkers," says he. + +And I've been tryin' ever since to figure out whether or no that's a +knock. Now and then I has a suspicion that Pinckney's acquired some +new bug since he's been out through the alfalfa belt; but maybe his +idea of the West's bein' such a great place only comes from the fact +that Gerty was produced there. Perhaps it's all he says too; but I +notice he seems mighty glad to get back to Main-st., N. Y. You'd +thought so if you'd seen the way he trails me around over town the +first day after he lands. We was on the go from noon until one A. M., +and his cab bill must have split a twenty up fine. + +What tickles me, though, is that he's the same old Pinckney, only more +so. Bein' married don't seem to weigh no heavier on his mind than +joinin' another club. So, instead of me losin' track of him +altogether, he shows up here at the Studio oftener than before. And +that's how it was he happens to be on hand when this overgrown party +from the ham orchard blows in. + +Just at the minute, though, Pinckney was back in the dressin' room, +climbin' into his frock coat after our little half-hour session on the +mat; so Swifty Joe and me was the reception committee. + +As the door opens I looks up to see about seven foot of cinnamon brown +plaid cloth,--a little the homeliest stuff I ever see used for +clothes,--a red and green necktie, a face the colour of a ripe tomato, +and one of these buckskin tinted felt hats on top of that. Measurin' +from the peak of the Stetson to the heels of his No. 14 Cinderellas, he +must have been some under ninety inches, but not much. And he has all +the grace of a water tower. Whoever tried to build that suit for him +must have got desperate and cut it out with their eyes shut; for it fit +him only in spots, and them not very near together. But what can you +do with a pair of knock knees and shoulders that slope like a hip roof? + +Not expectin' any freaks that day, and bein' too stunned to make any +crack on our own hook, me and Swifty does the silent gawp, and waits to +see if it can talk. For a minute he looks like he can't. He just +stands here with his mouth half open, grinnin' kind of sheepish and +good natured, as if we could tell what he wanted just by his looks. +Fin'lly I breaks the spell. + +"Hello, Sport," says I. "If you see any dust on top of that +chandelier, don't mention it." + +He don't make any reply to that, just grins a little wider; so I gives +him a new deal. + +"You'll find Huber's museum down on 14th-st.," says I. "Or have you +got a Bowery engagement?" + +This seems to twist him up still more; but it pulls the cork. "Excuse +me, friends," says he; "but I'm tryin' to round up an eatin' house that +used to be hereabouts." + +"Eatin' house?" says I. "If you mean the fried egg parlour that was on +the ground floor, that went out of business months ago. But there's +lots more just as good around on Sixth-ave., and some that carry stock +enough to fill you up part way, I guess." + +"I wa'n't lookin' to grub up just yet," says he. "I was huntin' +for--for some one that worked there." + +And say, you wouldn't have thought anyone with a natural sunset colour +like that could lay on a blush. But he does, and it's like throwin' +the red calcium on a brick wall. + +"Oh, tush, tush!" says I. "You don't mean to tell me a man of your +size is trailin' some Lizzie Maud?" + +He cants his head on one side, pulls out a blue silk handkerchief, and +begins to wind it around his fore finger, like a bashful kid that's +been caught passin' a note in school. + +"Her--her name's Zylphina," says he,--"Zylphina Beck." + +"Gee!" says I. "Sounds like a new kind of music box. No relation, I +hope?" + +"Not yet," says he, swingin' his shoulders; "but we've swapped rings." + +"Of all the cut-ups!" says I. "And just what part of the plowed fields +do you and Zylphina hail from?" + +"Why, I'm from Hoxie," says he, as though that told the whole story. + +"Do tell!" says I. "Is that a flag station or just a four corners? +Somewhere in Ohio, ain't it?" + +"Sheridan County, Kansas," says he. + +"Well, well!" says I. "Now I can account for your size. Have to grow +tall out there, don't you, so's not to get lost in the wheat patch?" + +Say, for a josh consumer, he was the easiest ever. All he does is +stand there and grin, like he was the weak end of a variety team. But +it seems a shame to crowd a willin' performer; so I was just tellin' +him he'd better go out and hunt up a city directory in some drug store, +when Pinckney shows up, lookin' interested. + +"There!" says I. "Here's a man now that'll lead you straight to +Zylphina in no time. Pinckney, let me make you acquainted with +Mister--er----" + +"Cobb," says the Hoxie gent, "Wilbur Cobb." + +"From out West," I puts in, givin' Pinckney the nudge. "He's yours." + +It ain't often I has a chance to unload anything like that on Pinckney, +so I rubs it in. The thoughts of him towin' around town a human +extension like this Wilbur strikes Swifty Joe so hard that he most has +a chokin' fit. + +But you never know what turn Pinckney's goin' to give to a jolly. He +don't even crack a smile, but reaches up and hands Mr. Cobb the cordial +shake, just as though he'd been a pattern sized gent dressed accordin' +to the new fall styles. + +"Ah!" says Pinckney. "I'm very glad to meet anyone from the West. +What State, Mr. Cobb?" + +And inside of two minutes he's gettin' all the details of this Zylphina +hunt, from the ground up, includin' an outline of Wilbur's past life. + +Seems that Wilbur'd got his first start in Maine; but 'way back before +he could remember much his folks had moved to Kansas on a homestead. +Then, when Wilbur tossled out, he takes up a quarter section near +Hoxie, and goes to corn farmin' for himself, raisin' a few hogs as a +side line. Barrin' bein' caught in a cyclone or two, and gettin' +elected junior kazook of the Sheridan County Grange, nothin' much +happened to Wilbur, until one day he took a car ride as far west as +Colby Junction. + +That's where he meets up with Zylphina. She was jugglin' stop over +rations at the railroad lunch counter. Men must have been mighty +scarce around the junction, or else she wants the most she can get for +the money; for, as she passes Wilbur a hunk of petrified pie and draws +him one muddy, with two lumps on the saucer, she throws in a smile that +makes him feel like he'd stepped on a live third rail. + +Accordin' to his tell, he must have hung around that counter all day, +eatin' through the pie list from top to bottom and back again, until +it's a wonder his system ever got over the shock. But Zylphina keeps +tollin' him on with googoo eyes and giggles, sayin' how it does her +good to see a man with a nice, hearty appetite, and before it come time +for him to take the night train back they'd got real well acquainted. +He finds out her first name, and how she's been a whole orphan since +she was goin' on ten. + +After that Wilbur makes the trip to Colby Junction reg'lar every +Sunday, and they'd got to the point of talkin' about settin' the day +when she was to become Mrs. Cobb, when Zylphina gets word that an aunt +of hers that kept a boardin' house in Fall River, Massachusetts, wants +her to come on East right away. Aunty has some kind of heart trouble +that may finish her any minute, and, as Zylphina was the nearest +relation she had, there was a show of her bein' heiress to the whole +joint. + +Course, Zylphina thinks she ought to tear herself loose from the pie +counter; but before she quits the junction her and Wilbur takes one +last buggy ride, with the reins wound around the whip socket most of +the way. She weeps on Wilbur's shirt front, and says no matter how far +off she is, or how long she has to wait for him to come, she'll always +be his'n on demand. And Wilbur says that just as soon as he can make +the corn and hog vineyard hump itself a little more, he'll come. + +So Zylphina packs a shoe box full of fried chicken, blows two months' +wages into a yard of yellow railroad ticket, and starts toward the +cotton mills. It's a couple of months before Wilbur gets any letter, +and then it turns out to be a hard luck tale, at that. Zylphina has +found out what a lime tastes like. She's discovered that the Fall +River aunt hasn't anything more the matter with her heart than the +average landlady, and that what she's fell heiress to is only a chance +to work eighteen hours a day for her board. So she's disinherited +herself and is about to make a bold jump for New York, which she liked +the looks of as she came through, and she'll write more later on. + +It was later--about six months. Zylphina says she's happy, and hopes +Wilbur is the same. She's got a real elegant job as cashier in a +high-toned, twenty-five cent, reg'lar-meal establishment, and all in +the world she has to do is to sit behind a wire screen and make change. +It's different from wearin' an apron, and the gents what takes their +food there steady treats her like a perfect lady. New York is a big +place; but she's getting so she knows her way around quite well now, +and it would seem funny to go back to a little one-horse burg like +Colby. + +And that's all. Nothin' about her bein' Wilbur's on demand, or +anything of that kind. Course, it's an antique old yarn; but it was +all fresh to Wilbur. Not bein' much of a letter writer, he keeps on +feedin' the hogs punctual, and hoein' the corn, and waitin' for more +news. But there's nothin' doin'. + +"Then," says he, "I got to thinkin' and thinkin', and this fall, being +as how I was coming as far east as Chicago on a shipper's pass, I +reckons I'd better keep right on here, hunt Zylphina up, and take her +back with me." + +The way he tells it was real earnest, and at some points them whey +coloured eyes of his moistens up good an' dewy; but he finishes strong +and smilin'. You wouldn't guess, though, that any corn fed romance +like that would stir up such a blood as Pinckney? A few months back he +wouldn't have listened farther'n the preamble; but now he couldn't have +been more interested if this was a case of Romeo Astor and Juliet +Dupeyster. + +"Shorty," says he, "can't we do something to help Mr. Cobb find this +young lady?" + +"Do you mean it," says I, "or are you battin' up a josh?" + +He means it, all right. He spiels off a lot of gush about the joy of +unitin' two lovin' hearts that has got strayed; so I asks Wilbur if he +can furnish any description of Zylphina. Sure, he can. He digs up a +leather wallet from his inside pocket and hands out a tintype of Miss +Beck, one of these portraits framed in pale pink paper, taken by a +wagon artist that had wandered out to the junction. + +Judgin' by the picture, Zylphina must have been a sure enough +prairie-rose. She's wearin' her hair loose over her shoulders, and a +genuine Shy Ann hat, one of those ten-inch brims with the front pinned +back. The pug nose and the big mouth wa'n't just after the Venus +model; but it's likely she looked good to Wilbur. I takes one squint +and hands it back. + +"Nix, never!" says I. "I've seen lots of fairies on 42d-st., but none +like that. Put it back over your heart, Wilbur, and try an ad. in the +lost column." + +But Pinckney ain't willin' to give up so easy. He says how Mr. Cobb +has come more'n a thousand miles on this tender mission, and it's up to +us to do our best towards helping him along. I couldn't see just where +we was let into this affair of Wilbur's; but as Pinckney's so set on +it, I begins battin' my head for a way of takin' up the trail. + +And it's wonderful what sleuth work you can do just by usin' the 'phone +liberal. First I calls up the agent of the buildin', and finds that +the meal fact'ry has moved over to Eighth-ave. Then I gets that number +and brings Zylphina's old boss to the wire. Sure, he remembers Miss +Beck. No, she ain't with him now. He thinks she took a course in +manicurin', and one of the girls says she heard of her doin' the hand +holdin' act in an apartment hotel on West 35th-st. After three tries +we has Zylphina herself on the 'phone. + +"Guess who's here," says I. + +"That you, Roland?" says she. + +"Aw, pickles!" says I. "Set the calendar back a year or so, and then +come again. Ever hear of Wilbur, from Hoxie, Kan.?" + +Whether it was a squeal or a snicker, I couldn't make out; but she was +on. As I couldn't drag Wilbur up to the receiver, I has to carry +through the talk myself, and I makes a date for him to meet her in +front of the hotel at six-thirty that evenin', when the day shift of +nail polishers goes off duty. + +"Does that suit, Wilbur?" says I. + +Does it? You never saw so much pure joy spread over a single +countenance as what he flashes up. He gives me a grip I can feel yet, +and the grin that opens his face was one of these reg'lar ear +connectors. Pinckney was tickled too, and it's all I can do to get him +off one side where I can whisper confidential. + +"Maybe it ain't struck you yet," says I, "that Zylphina's likely to +have changed some in her ideas as to what a honey boy looks like. Now +Wilbur's all right in his way; but ain't he a little rugged to spring +on a lady manicure that hasn't seen him for some time?" + +And when Pinckney comes to take a close view, he agrees that Mr. Cobb +is a trifle fuzzy. "But we can spruce him up," says Pinckney. "There +are four hours to do it in." + +"Four weeks would be better," says I; "it's considerable of a contract." + +That don't bother Pinckney any. He's got nothing else on hand for the +afternoon, and he can't plan any better sport than improvin' Wilbur's +looks so Zylphina's first impression'll be a good one. + +He begins by making Wilbur peel the cinnamon brown costume, drapin' him +in a couple of bath robes, while Swifty takes the suit out to one of +these pants-pressed-while you wait places. When it comes back with +creases in the legs, he hustles Wilbur into a cab and starts for a +barber shop. + +Say, I don't suppose Cobb'll ever know it; but if he'd been huntin' for +expert help along that line, he couldn't have tumbled into better hands +than he did when Pinckney gets interested in his case. When they +floats in again, along about six o'clock, I hardly knows Wilbur for the +same party. He's wearin' a long black ulster that covers up most of +the plaid nightmare; he's shook the woolly lid for a fall block derby, +he's had his face scraped and powdered, and his neck ringlets trimmed +up; and he even sports a pair of yellow kids and a silver headed stick. + +"Gosh!" says I. "Looks like you'd run him through a finishing machine. +Why, he'll have Zylphina after him with a net." + +"Yes," says Pinckney. "I fancy he'll do now." + +As for Wilbur, he only looks good natured and happy. Course, Pinckney +wants to go along with him, to see that it all turns out right; and he +counts me in too, so off we starts. I was a little curious to get a +glimpse of Zylphina myself, and watch how stunned she'd be. For we has +it all framed up how she'll act. Havin' seen the tintype, I can't get +it out of my head that she's still wearin' her hair loose and looking +like M'liss in the first act. + +"Hope she'll be on time," says I, as we turns the corner. + +There was more or less folks goin' and comin' from the ladies' +entrance; but no girl like the one we was lookin' for. So we fetches +up in a bunch opposite the door and prepares to wait. We hadn't stood +there a minute, before there comes a squeal from behind, and some one +says: + +"Why, Wilbur Cobb! Is that you?" + +And what do you guess shows up? There at the curb is a big, open +tourin' car,--one of the opulent, shiny kind,--with a slick looking +shuffer in front, and, standin' up in the tonneau, a tart little lady +wearin' Broadway clothes that was right up to the minute, hair done +into breakfast rolls behind, and a long pink veil streamin' down her +back. Only by the pug nose and the mouth could I guess that it might +be Zylphina. And it was. + +There wa'n't any gettin' away from the fact that she was a little +jarred at seein' Wilbur lookin' so cute; but that was nothin' to the +jolt she handed us. Mr. Cobb, he just opens his mouth and gazes at her +like she was some sort of an exhibit. And Pinckney, who'd been +expectin' something in a dollar-thirty-nine shirtwaist and a sagged +skirt, is down and out. It didn't take me more'n a minute to see that +if Zylphina has got to the stage where she wears pony jackets and rides +in expensive bubbles, our little pie counter romance is headed for the +ash can. + +"Stung in both eyes!" says I under my breath, and falls back. + +"Well, well!" says Zylphina, holdin' out three fingers. "When did you +hit Broadway, Wilbur?" + +It was all up to Cobb then. He drifts up to the tonneau and gathers in +the fingers dazed like, as if he was walkin' in his sleep; but he gets +out somethin' about bein' mighty glad to see her again. + +Zylphina sizes him up kind of curious, and smiles. "You must let me +introduce you to my friend," says she. "Roland, this is Mr. Cobb, from +Kansas." + +Mr. Shuffer grins too, as he swaps grips with Wilbur. It was a great +joke. + +"He's awfully nice to me, Roland is," says Zylphina, with a giggle. +"And ain't this a swell car, though? Roland takes me to my boardin' +house in it 'most every night. But how are the corn and hogs doin', +Wilbur?" + +Say, there was a topic Wilbur was up on. He throws her a grateful grin +and proceeds to unlimber his conversation works. He tells Zylphina how +many acres he put into corn last spring, how much it shucked to the +acre, and how many head of hogs he has just sent to the ham and lard +lab'ratory. That brand of talk sounds kind of foolish there under the +arc lights; but Zylphina pricks up her ears. + +"Ten carloads of hogs!" says she. "Is that a kid, or are you just +havin' a dream?" + +"I cal'late it'll be twenty next fall," says he, fishin' for somethin' +in his pocket. "Here's the packing house receipts for the ten, anyway." + +"Let's see," says she, and by the way she skins her eye over them +documents you could tell that Zylphina'd seen the like before. Also +she was somethin' of a ready reckoner. + +"Oh, Wilbur!" says she, makin' a flyin' leap and landin' with her arms +around his neck. "I'm yours, Wilbur, I'm yours!" + +And Wilbur, he gathers her in. + +"Roland," says I, steppin' up to the shuffer, "you can crank up. +Hoxie's won out in the tenth." + + + + +XIX + +AT HOME WITH THE DILLONS + +I was expectin' to put in a couple of days doin' the sad and lonely, +Sadie havin' made a date to run out to Rocky wold for the week end; but +Friday night when I'm let off at the seventh floor of the +Perzazzer--and say, no matter how many flights up home is, there's no +place like it--who should I see but Sadie, just takin' off her hat. +Across by the window is one of the chamber maids, leanin' up against +the casing and snifflin' into the expensive draperies. + +"Well, well!" says I. "Is this a rehearsal for a Hank Ibsen sprinkler +scene, or is it a case of missin' jewels?" + +"It's nothing of the sort, Shorty," says Sadie, giving me the shut-off +signal. Then she turns to the girl with a "There, there, Nora! +Everything will be all right. And I will be around Sunday afternoon. +Run along now, and don't worry." With that she leads Nora out to the +door and sends her away with a shoulder pat. + +"Who's been getting friendly with the help now; eh, Sadie?" says I. +"And what's the woe about?" + +Course she begins at the wrong end, and throws in a lot of details that +only lumbers up the record; but after she's been talkin' for half an +hour--and Sadie can separate herself from a lot of language in that +time--I gets a good workin' outline of this domestic tragedy that has +left damp spots on our window curtains. + +It ain't near so harrowin', though, as you might suspect. Seems that +Nora has the weepin' habit. That's how Sadie come to remember havin' +seen her before. Also it counts for Nora's shiftin' so often. Folks +like Mrs. Purdy Pell and the Twombley-Cranes can't keep a girl around +that's liable to weep into the soup or on the card tray. If it wa'n't +for that, Nora'd been all right; for she's a neat lookin' girl, handy +and willin',--one of these slim, rosy cheeked, black haired, North of +Ireland kind, that can get big wages, when they have the sense, which +ain't often. + +Well, she'd changed around until she lands here in the fresh linen +department, workin' reg'lar twelve-hour shifts, one afternoon off a +week, and a four-by-six room up under the copper roof, with all the +chance in the world to weep and no one to pay any attention to her, +until Sadie catches her at it. Trust Sadie! + +When she finds Nora leakin' her troubles out over an armful of clean +towels, she drags her in here and asks for the awful facts. Then comes +the fam'ly history of the Dillons, beginnin' on the old rent at +Ballyshannon and endin' in a five-room flat on Double Fifth-ave. When +she comes to mentionin' Larry Dillon, I pricks up my ears. + +"What! Not the old flannel mouth that's chopped tickets at the 33d-st. +station ever since the L was built?" says I. + +"He's been discharged," says Sadie. "Did you know him?" + +Did I know Larry? Could anyone live in this burg as long as I have, +without gettin' acquainted with that Old Country face, or learnin' by +heart his "Ha-a-a-ar-lem thr-r-rain! Ha-a-a-ar-lem!"? There's other +old timers that has the brogue, but never a one could touch Larry. A +purple faced, grumpy old pirate, with a disposition as cheerful as a +man waitin' his turn at the dentist's, and a heart as big as a ham, he +couldn't speak a civil word if he tried; but he was always ready to +hand over half his lunch to any whimperin' newsy that came along, and +he's lent out more nickels that he'll ever see again. + +But about the other Dillons, I got my first news from Sadie. There was +four of 'em, besides Nora. One was Tom, who had a fine steady job, +drivin' a coal cart for the Consolidated. A credit to the family, Tom +was; havin' a wife and six kids of his own, besides votin' the straight +Tammany ticket since he was nineteen. Next there was Maggie, whose man +was on the stage,--shiftin' scenery. Then there was Kate, the lady +sales person, who lived with the old folks. And last there was +Aloysius, the stray; and wherever he was, Heaven help him! for he was +no use whatever. + +"I take it that 'Loyshy's the brunette Southdown of the Dillon flock," +says I. "What particular brand of cussedness does he make a specialty +of?" + +Sadie says that Nora hadn't gone much into particulars, except that +when last heard of he'd joined the Salvationists, which had left old +Larry frothin' at the mouth. He'd threatened to break Aloysius into +two pieces on sight, and he'd put the ban on speakin' his name around +the house. + +"Followin' the tambourine!" says I. "That's a queer stunt for a +Dillon. The weeps was for him, then?" + +They wa'n't. 'Loyshy's disappearin' act had been done two or three +years back. The tears was all on account of the fortieth weddin' +anniversary of the Dillons, fallin' as it did just a week after Larry +had the spell of rheumatism which got him laid off for good. It's a +nice little way the Inter-Met. people has of rewardin' the old vets. +An inspector finds Larry, with his hand tied to the chopper handle, +takes a look at his cramped up fingers, puts down his number, and next +payday he gets the sack. + +"So you've found another candidate for your private pension list, have +you, Sadie?" says I. + +But that's another wrong guess. The Dillons ain't takin' charity, not +from anyone. It's the Dillon sisters to the rescue. They rustles +around until they find Larry a job as night watch, in where it's warm. +Then they all chips in for the new Tenth-ave. flat. Maggie brings her +man and the two kids, the lady Kate sends around her trunks with the +furniture, and Nora promises to give up half of her twenty to keep +things going. + +And then the Bradys, who lives opposite, has to spring their blow out. +They'd been married forty years too; but just because one of their boys +was in the Fire Department, and 'Lizzie Brady was workin' in a +Sixth-ave. hair dressin' parlour, they'd no call to flash such a +bluff,--frosted cake from the baker, with the date done in pink candy, +candles burnin' on the mantelpiece, a whole case of St. Louis on the +front fire escape, and the district boss drivin' around in one of +Connely's funeral hacks. Who was the Bradys, that they should have +weddin' celebrations when the Dillons had none? + +Kate, the lady sales person, handed out that conundrum. She supplies +the answer too. She allows that what a Brady can make a try at, a +Dillon can do like it ought to be done. So they've no sooner had the +gas and water turned on at the new flat than she draws up plans for a +weddin' anniversary that'll make the Brady performance look like a pan +of beans beside a standing rib roast. + +She knows what's what, the lady Kate does. She's been to the real +things, and they calls 'em "at homes" in Harlem. The Dillons will be +at home Sunday the nineteenth, from half after four until eight, and +the Bradys can wag their tongues off, for all she cares. It'll be in +honour of the fortieth wedding anniversary of Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence +Dillon, and all the family connections, and all friends of the same, is +to have a bid. + +"Well, that's the limit!" says I. "Did you tell the girl they'd better +be layin' in groceries, instead of givin' an imitation tea?" + +"Certainly not!" says Sadie. "Why shouldn't they enjoy themselves in +their own way?" + +"Eh?" says I. "Oh, I take it all back. But what was the eye swabbin' +for, then?" + +By degrees I gets the enacting clause. The arrangements for the party +was goin' on lovely,--Larry was havin' the buttons sewed onto the long +tailed coat he was married in, the scene shifter had got the loan of +some stage props to decorate the front room, there was to be ice cream +and fancy cakes and ladies' punch. Father Kelley had promised to drop +in, and all was runnin' smooth,--when Mother Dillon breaks loose. + +And what do you guess is the matter with her? She wants her 'Loyshy. +If there was to be any fam'ly convention and weddin' celebration, why +couldn't she have her little Aloysius to it? She didn't care a split +spud how he'd behaved, or if him and his father had had words; he was +her youngest b'y, and she thought more of him than all the rest put +together, and she wouldn't have a hand in any doin's that 'Loyshy was +barred from comin' to. + +As Nora put it, "When the old lady speaks her mind, you got to listen +or go mad from her." She don't talk of anything else, and when she +ain't talkin' she's cryin' her eyes out. Old Larry swore himself out +of breath, the lady Kate argued, and Maggie had done her best; but +there was nothin' doin'. They'd got to find Aloysius and ask him to +the party, or call it off. + +But findin' 'Loyshy wa'n't any cinch. He'd left the Army long ago. He +wa'n't in any of the fifteen-cent lodgin' houses. The police didn't +have any record of him. He didn't figure in the hospital lists. The +nearest anyone came to locatin' him was a handbook man the scene +shifter knew, who said he'd heard of 'Loyshy hangin' around the +Gravesend track summer before last; but there was no use lookin' for +him there at this time of year. It wa'n't until they'd promised to +advertise for Aloysius in the papers that Mother Dillon quit takin' on +and agreed to wear the green silk she'd had made for Nora's chistenin'. + +"Yes, and what then?" says I. + +"Why," says Sadie, "Nora's afraid that if Aloysius doesn't turn up, her +mother will spoil the party with another crying spell; and she knows if +he does come, her father will throw him out." + +"She has a happy way of lookin' at things," says I. "Was it for this +you cut out going to Rockywold?" + +"Of course," says Sadie. "I am to pour tea at the Dillons' on Sunday +afternoon. You are to come at five, and bring Pinckney." + +"Ah, pickles, Sadie!" says I. "This is----" + +"Please, Shorty!" says she. "I've told Nora you would." + +"I'll put it up to Pinckney," says I, "and if he's chump enough to let +himself loose in Tenth-ave. society, just to help the Dillons put it +over the Bradys, I expect I'll be a mark too. But it's a dippy move." + +Course, I mistrusted how Pinckney would take it. He thinks he's got me +on the rollers, and proceeds to shove. He hasn't heard more'n half the +tale before he begins handin' me the josh about it's bein' my duty to +spread sunshine wherever I can. + +"It's calcium the Dillons want," says I. "But I hadn't got to tellin' +you about Aloysius." + +"What's that?" says he. "Aloysius Dillon, did you say?" + +"He's the one that's playin' the part of the missing prod.," says I. + +"What is he like?" says Pinckney, gettin' interested. + +"Accordin' to descriptions," says I, "he's a useless little runt, about +four feet nothin' high and as wide as a match, with the temper of a +striped hornet and the instincts of a yellow kyoodle. But he's his +mother's pet, just the same, and if he ain't found she threatens to +throw fits. Don't happen to know him, do you?" + +"Why," says Pinckney, "I'm not sure but I do." + +It looks like a jolly; but then again, you never can tell about +Pinckney. He mixes around in so many sets that he's like to know 'most +anybody. + +"Well," says I, "if you run across Aloysius at the club, tell him +what's on for Sunday afternoon." + +"I will," says Pinckney, lettin' out a chuckle and climbin' into his +cab. + +I was hoping that maybe Sadie would renige before the time come; but +right after dinner Sunday she makes up in her second best afternoon +regalia, calls a hansom, and starts for Tenth-ave., leavin' +instructions how I was to show up in about an hour with Pinckney, and +not to forget about handin' out our cards just as if this was a swell +affair. I finds Pinckney got up in his frock coat and primrose pants, +and lookin' mighty pleased about something or other. + +"Huh!" says I. "You seem to take this as a reg'lar cut-up act. I call +it blamed nonsense, encouragin' folks like the Dillons to----" + +But there ain't any use arguin' with Pinckney when he's feelin' that +way. He only grins and looks mysterious. We don't have to hunt for +the number of the Dillons' flat house, for there's a gang of kids on +the front steps and more out in the street gawpin' up at the lighted +windows. We makes a dive through them and tackles the four flights, +passin' inspection of the tenants on the way up, every door bein' open. + +"Who's comin' now?" sings out a women from the Second floor back. + +"Only a couple of Willies from the store," says a gent in his shirt +sleeves, givin' us the stare. + +From other remarks we heard passed, it was clear the Dillons had been +tootin' this party as something fine and classy, and that they wa'n't +making good. The signs of frost grows plainer as we gets nearer the +scene of the festivities. All the Dillon family was there, right +enough, from the youngest kid up. Old Larry has had his face scraped +till it shines like a copper stewpan, and him and Mother Dillon is +standin' under a green paper bell hung from a hook in the ceiling. I +could spot Tom, the coal cart driver, by the ring of dust under his +eyelashes; and there was no mistakin' lady Kate, the sales person, with +the double row of coronet hair rolls pinned to the top of her head. +Over in the corner, too, was Sadie, talkin' to Father Kelley. But +there wa'n't any great signs of joy. + +The whole party sizes up me and Pinckney as if they was disappointed. +I can't say what they was lookin' for from us; but whatever it was, we +didn't seem to fill the bill. And just when the gloom is settlin' down +thickest, Mother Dillon begins to sniffle. + +"Now, mother," says Nora, soothin' like, "remember there's company." + +"Ah, bad scran to the lot of yez!" says the old lady. "Where's my +Aloysius? Where is he, will ye tell me that?" + +"Divvul take such a woman!" says old Larry. + +"Tut, tut!" says Father Kelley. + +"Will you look at the Bradys now!" whispers Maggie, hoarselike. + +It wa'n't easy guessin' which windows in the block was theirs, for +every ledge has a pillow on it, and a couple of pairs of elbows on +every pillow, but I took it that the Bradys was where they was grinnin' +widest. You could tell, though, that the merry laugh was bein' passed +up and down, and it was on the Dillons. + +And then, as I was tryin' to give Sadie the get-away sign, we hears a +deep honk outside, and I sees the folks across the way stretchin' their +necks out. In a minute there's a scamperin' in the halls like a +stampede at a synagogue, and we hears the "Ah-h-hs!" coming up from +below. We all makes a rush for the front and rubbers out to see what's +happenin'. By climbin' on a chair and peekin' over the top of the lady +Kate's hair puffs, I catches a glimpse of a big yellow and black bodied +car, with a footman in a bearskin coat holdin' open the door. + +"Oh-o-o-oh! look what's here?" squeals eight little Dillons in chorus. + +You couldn't blame 'em, either, for the hat that was bein' squeezed out +through the door of the car was one of these Broadway thrillers, four +feet across, and covered with as many green ostrich feathers as you +could carry in a clothes basket. What was under the feather lid we +couldn't see. Followin' it out of the machine comes somethin' cute in +a butter colored overcoat and a brown derby. In a minute more we gets +the report that the procession is headed up the stairs, and by the time +we've grouped ourselves around the room with our mouths open, in they +floats. + +In the lead, wearin' the oleo coat with yellow silk facin's, was a +squizzled up little squirt with rat eyes and a mean little face about +as thick as a slice of toast, and the same colour. His clothes, +though, is a pome in browns and yellows, from the champagne tinted No. +3 shoes to the tobacco coloured No. 5 hat, leavin' out the necktie, +which was a shade somewhere between a blue store front and a bottle of +purple ink. + +Even if I hadn't seen the face, I could have guessed who it was, just +by the get-up. Course, there's been a good many noisy dressers +floatin' around the grill room district this winter, but there always +has to be one real scream in every crowd; and this was it. + +"If it ain't Shrimp!" says I. + +"Hello, Shorty!" says he, in that little squeak of his. + +And at that some one swoops past me. There's a flapping of green silk +skirt, and Mother Dillon has given him the high tackle. + +"Aloysius! My little 'Loyshy!" she squeals. + +And say, you could have pushed me over with one finger. Here I'd been +hearin' for the last two seasons about this jock that had come up from +stable helper in a night, and how he'd been winning on nine out of +every ten mounts, and how all the big racing men was overbiddin' each +other to get him signed for their stables. Some of Pinckney's sportin' +friends had towed Shrimp into the Studio once or twice, and besides +that I'd read in the papers all about his giddy wardrobe, and his big +Swede valet, and the English chorus girl that had married him. But in +all this talk of Sadie's about the Dillon fam'ly, I'd never so much as +guessed that Aloysius, the stray, was one and the same as Shrimp Dillon. + +Here he was, though, in the Dillon flat, with Mother Dillon almost +knockin' his breath out pattin' him on the back, and all the little +Dillons jumpin' around and yellin', "Uncle 'Loyshy, Uncle 'Loyshy!" and +Kate and Maggie and Nora waitin' their turns; and the rest of us, +includin' old Larry and me and Sadie, lookin' foolish. The only one +that acts like he wa'n't surprised is Pinckney. + +Well, as soon as Shrimp can wiggle himself clear, and shake the little +Dillons off his legs, he hauls Mrs. Shrimp to the front and does the +honours. And say, they make a pair that would draw a crowd anywhere! +You know the style of chorus ladies the Lieblers bring over,--the +lengthy, high chested, golden haired kind? Well, she's one of the +dizziest that ever stood up to make a background for the pony ballet. +And she has on a costume--well, it goes with the hat, which it puttin' +it strong. + +If the sight of her and the circus coloured car wa'n't enough to stun +the neighbours and send the Bradys under the bed, they had only to wait +till the Swede valet and the footman began luggin' up the sheaf of +two-dollar roses and the basket of champagne. + +I was watchin' old Larry to see how he was takin' it. First he looks +Shrimp up and down, from the brown hat to the yellow shoes, and then he +gazes at Mrs. Shrimp. Then his stiff lower jaw begins saggin' down, +and his knobby old fingers unloosens from the grip they'd got into at +first sight of 'Loyshy. It's plain that he was some in doubt about +that chuckin' out programme he'd had all framed up. What Larry had +been expectin' should the boy turn up at all, was something that looked +like it had been picked out of the bread line. And here was a specimen +of free spender that had "Keep the change!" pasted all over him. Then, +before he has it half figured out, they're lined up in front of each +other. But old Larry ain't one to do the sidestep. + +"Aloysius," says he, scowlin' down at him, "where do ye be afther +gettin' ut?" + +"Out of the ponies, old stuff. Where else?" says Shrimp. + +"Bettin'?" says Larry. + +"Bettin' nothin'!" says Shrimp. "Mud ridin'." + +"Allow me," says Pinckney, pushin' in, "to introduce to you all, ladies +and gentlemen, Mr. Shrimp Dillon, one of the best paid jockeys in +America." + +"And what might they be payin' the likes of him for bein' a jockey?" +says old Larry. + +"Why," says Pinckney, "it was something like twenty thousand this +season, wasn't it, Shrimp?" + +"Countin' bonuses and all," says Shrimp, "it was nearer thirty-two." + +"Thirty-two thou----" But Larry's mouth is open so wide he can't get +the rest out. He just catches his breath, and then, "'Loyshy, me lad, +give us your hand on it." + +"Ahem!" says Father Kelley, pickin' up his hat, "this seems to be a +case where the prodigal has returned--and brought his veal with him." + +"That's a thrue word," says Larry. "'Tis a proud day for the Dillons." + +Did they put it over the Bradys? Well, say! All the Bradys has to do +now, to remember who the Dillons are, is to look across the way and see +the two geranium plants growin' out of solid silver pots. Course, they +wa'n't meant for flower pots. They're champagne coolers; but Mother +Dillon don't know the difference, so what's the odds? Anyway, they're +what 'Loyshy brought for presents, and I'll bet they're the only pair +west of Sixth-avenue. + + + + +XX + +THE CASE OF RUSTY QUINN + +Say, I ain't one of the kind to go around makin' a noise like a pickle, +just because I don't happen to have the same talents that's been handed +out to others. About all I got to show is a couple of punch +distributors that's more or less educated, and a block that's set on +some solid. Not much to get chesty over; but the combination has kept +me from askin' for benefit performances, and as a rule I'm satisfied. + +There's times, though, when I wish--say, don't go givin' me the hee-haw +on this--when I wish I could sing. Ah, I don't mean bein' no grand +opera tenor, with a throat that has to be kept in cotton battin' and a +reputation that needs chloride of lime. What would suit me would be +just a plain, every day la-la-la outfit of pipes, that I could turn +loose on coon songs when I was alone, or out with a bunch in the +moonlight. I'd like to be able to come in on a chorus now and then, +without havin' the rest of the crowd turn on me and call for the hook. + +What music I've got is the ingrowin' kind. When anybody starts up a +real lively tune I can feel it throbbin' and bumpin' away in my head, +like a blowfly in a milk bottle; but if ever I try uncorkin' one of my +warbles, the people on the next block call in the children, and the +truck drivers begin huntin' for the dry axle. + +Now look at what bein' musical did for Rusty Quinn. Who's Rusty? +Well, he ain't much of anybody. I used to wonder, when I'd see him +kickin' around under foot in different places, how it was he had the +nerve to go on livin'. Useless! He appeared about as much good to the +world as a pair of boxin' gloves would be to the armless wonder. + +First I saw of Rusty was five or six years back, when he was hangin' +around my trainin' camp. He was a long, slab sided, loose jointed, +freckled up kid then, always wearin' a silly, good natured grin on his +homely face. About all the good you could say of Rusty was that he +could play the mouth organ, and be good natured, no matter how hard he +was up against it. + +If there was anything else he could do well, no one ever found it out, +though he tried plenty of things. And he always had some great scheme +rattlin' round in his nut, something that was goin' to win him the big +stake. But it was a new scheme every other day, and, outside of +grinnin' and playin' the mouth organ, all I ever noticed specially +brilliant about him was the way he used cigarettes as a substitute for +food. Long's he had a bag of fact'ry sweepin's and a book of rice +papers he didn't mind how many meals he missed, and them long fingers +of his was so well trained they could roll dope sticks while he slept. + +Well, it had been a year or so since I'd run across him last, and if +I'd thought about him at all, which I didn't, it would have been to +guess what fin'lly finished him; when this affair out on Long Island +was pulled off. The swells that owns country places along the south +shore has a horse show about this time every year. As a rule they gets +along without me bein' there to superintend; but last week I happens to +be down that way, payin' a little call on Mr. Jarvis, an old reg'lar of +mine, and in the afternoon he wants to know if I don't want to climb up +on the coach with the rest of the gang and drive over to see the sport. + +Now I ain't so much stuck on this four-in-hand business. It's jolty +kind of ridin', anyway, and if the thing upsets you've got a long ways +to fall; but I always likes takin' a look at a lot of good horses, so I +plants myself up behind, alongside the gent that does the tara-tara-ta +act on the copper funnel, and off we goes. + +It ain't any of these common fair grounds horse shows, such as anyone +can buy a badge to. This is held on the private trottin' track at +Windymere--you know, that big estate that's been leased by the +Twombley-Cranes since they started makin' their splurge. + +And say, they know how to do things in shape, them folks. There's a +big green and white striped tent set up for the judges at the home +plate, and banked around that on either side was the traps and carts +and bubbles of some of the crispest cracker jacks on Mrs. Astor's list. +Course, there was a lot of people I knew; so as soon as our coach is +backed into position I shins down from the perch and starts in to do +the glad hand walk around. + +That's what fetches me onto one of the side paths leadin' up towards +the big house. I was takin' a short cut across the grass, when I sees +a little procession comin' down through the shrubbery. First off it +looks like some one was bein' helped into their coat; but then I +notices that the husky chap behind was actin' more vigorous than +polite. He has the other guy by the collar, and was givin' him the +knee good and plenty, first shovin' him on a step or two, and then +jerkin' him back solid. Loomin' up in the rear was a gent I spots +right off for Mr. Twombley-Crane himself, and by the way he follows I +takes it he's bossin' the job. + +"Gee!" says I to myself, "here's some one gettin' the rough chuck-out +for fair." + +And then I has a glimpse of a freckly face and the silly grin. The +party gettin' the run was Rusty Quinn. He's lookin' just as seedy as +ever, being costumed in a faded blue jersey, an old pair of yellow +ridin' pants, and leggin's that don't match. The bouncer is a great, +ham fisted, ruddy necked Britisher, a man twice the weight of Rusty, +with a face shaped like a punkin. As he sees me slow up he snorts out +somethin' ugly and gives Quinn an extra hard bang in the back with his +knee. And that starts my temperature to risin' right off. + +"Why don't you hit him with a maul, you bloomin' aitch eater," says I. +"Hey, Rusty! what you been up to now?" + +"Your friend's been happre'ended a-sneak thievin', that's w'at!" growls +out the beef chewer. + +"G'wan," says I. "I wouldn't believe the likes of you under oath. +Rusty, how about it?" + +Quinn, he gives me one of them batty grins of his and spreads out his +hand. "Honest, Shorty," says he, "I was only after a handful of +Turkish cigarettes from the smokin' room. I wouldn't touched another +thing; cross m' heart, I wouldn't!" + +"'Ear 'im!" says the Britisher. "And 'im caught prowlin' through the +'ouse!" With that he gives Rusty a shake that must have loosened his +back teeth, and prods him on once more. + +"Ah, say," says I, "you ain't got no call to break his back even if he +was prowlin'. Cut it out, you big mucker, or----" + +Say, I shouldn't have done it, seein' where I was; but the ugly look on +his mug as he lifts his knee again seems to pull the trigger of my +right arm, and I swings in one on that punkin head like I was choppin' +wood. He drops Rusty and comes at me with a rush, windmill fashion, +and I'm so happy for the next two minutes, givin' him what he needs, +that I've mussed up his countenance a lot before I sends in the one +that finds the soft spot on his jaw and lands him on the grass. + +"Here, here!" shouts Mr. Twombley-Crane, comin' up just as his man does +the back shoulder fall. "Why, McCabe, what does this mean?" + +"Nothin' much," says I, "except that I ain't in love with your +particular way of speedin' the partin' guest." + +"Guest!" says he, flushin' up. "The fellow was caught prowling. +Besides, by what right do you question my method of getting rid of a +sneak thief?" + +"Oh, I don't stop for rights in a case of this kind," says I. "I just +naturally butts in. I happens to know that Rusty here, ain't any more +of a thief than I am. If you've got a charge to make, though, I'll see +that he's in court when----" + +"I don't care to bother with the police," says he. "I merely want the +fellow kicked off the place." + +"Sorry to interfere with your plans," says I; "but he's been kicked +enough. I'll lead him off, though, and guarantee he don't come back, +if that'll do?" + +We both simmered down after he agrees to that proposition. The beef +eater picks himself up and limps back to the house, while I escorts +Rusty as far as the gates, givin' him some good advice on the way down. +Seems he'd been workin' as stable helper at Windymere for a couple of +weeks, his latest dream bein' that he was cut out for a jockey; but +he'd run out of dope sticks and, knowin' they was scattered around +reckless in the house, he'd just walked in lookin' for some. + +"Which shows you've lost what little sense you ever had," says I. "Now +here's two whole dollars, Rusty. Go off somewheres and smoke yourself +to death. Nobody'll miss you." + +Rusty, he just grins and moseys down the road, while I goes back to see +the show, feelin' about as much to home, after that run in, as a stray +pup in church. + +It was about an hour later, and they'd got through the program as far +as the youngsters' pony cart class, to be followed by an exhibit of +fancy farm teams. Well, the kids was gettin' ready to drive into the +ring. There was a bunch of 'em, mostly young girls all togged out in +pink and white, drivin' dinky Shetlands in wicker carts covered with +daisies and ribbons. In the lead was little Miss Gladys, that the +Twombley-Cranes think more of than they do their whole bank account. +The rigs was crowded into the main driveway, ready to turn into the +track as soon as the way was cleared, and it sure was a sight worth +seein'. + +I was standin' up on the coach, takin' it in, when all of a sudden +there comes a rumblin', thunderin' sound from out near the gates, and +folks begins askin' each other what's happened. They didn't have to +wait long for the answer; for before anyone can open a mouth, around +the curve comes a cloud of dust, and out dashes a pair of big greys +with one of them heavy blue and yellow farm waggons rattlin' behind. +It was easy to guess what's up then. One of the farm teams has been +scared. + +Next thing that was clear was that there wa'n't any driver on the +waggon, and that them crazy horses was headed straight for that snarl +of pony carts. There wa'n't any yellin' done. I guess 'most every +body's throat was too choked up. I know mine was. I only hears one +sound above the bang and rattle of them hoofs and wheels. That was a +kind of a groan, and I looks down to see Mr. Twombley-Crane standin' up +in the seat of a tourin' car, his face the colour of a wax candle, and +such a look in his eyes as I ain't anxious to see on any man again. + +Next minute he'd jumped. But it wa'n't any use. He was too far away, +and there was too big a crowd to get through. Even if he could have +got there soon enough, he couldn't have stopped them crazy brutes any +more'n he could have blocked a cannon ball. + +I feels sick and faint in the pit of my stomach, and the one thing I +wants to do most just then is to shut my eyes. But I couldn't. I +couldn't look anywhere but at that pair of tearin' horses and them +broad iron wheels. And that's why I has a good view of something that +jumps out of the bushes, lands in a heap in the waggon, and then +scrambles toward the front seat as quick as a cat. I see the red hair +and the blue jersey, and that's enough. I knows it's that useless +Rusty Quinn playin' the fool. + +Now, if he'd had a pair of arms like Jeffries, maybe there'd been some +hope of his pullin' down them horses inside the couple of hundred feet +there was between their front toe calks and where little Miss Gladys +was sittin' rooted to the cushions of her pony cart. But Rusty's +muscle development is about equal to that of a fourteen-year boy, and +it looks like he's goin' to do more harm than good when he grabs the +reins from the whip socket. But he stands up, plants his feet wide, +and settles back for the pull. + +Almost before anyone sees his game, he's done the trick. There's a +smash that sounds like a buildin' fallin' down, a crackin' and +splinterin' of oak wood and iron, a rattlin' of trace chains, a couple +of soggy thumps,--and when the dust settles down we sees a grey horse +rollin' feet up on either side of a big maple, and at the foot of the +tree all that's left of that yellow and blue waggon. Rusty had put +what strength he had into one rein at just the right time, and the pole +had struck the trunk square in the middle. + +For a minute or so there was a grand hurrah, with mothers and fathers +rushin' to grab their youngsters out of the carts and hug 'em; which +you couldn't blame 'em for doin', either. As for me, I drops off the +back of the coach and makes a bee line for that wreck, so I'm among the +first dozen to get there. I'm in time to shove my shoulder under the +capsized waggon body and hold it up. + +Well, there ain't any use goin' into details. What we took from under +there didn't look much like a human bein', for it was as limp and +shapeless as a bag of old rags. But the light haired young feller that +said he was a medical student guessed there might be some life left. +He wa'n't sure. He held his ear down, and after he'd listened for a +minute he said maybe something could be done. So we laid it on one of +the side boards and lugged it up to the house, while some one jumps +into a sixty-horse power car and starts for a sure enough doctor. + +It was durin' the next ten minutes, when the young student was cuttin' +off the blue jersey and the ridin' pants, and pokin' and feelin' +around, that Mr. Twombley-Crane gets the facts of the story. He didn't +have much to say; but, knowin' what I did, and seein' how he looked, I +could easy frame up what was on his mind. He gives orders that +whatever was wanted should be handed out, and he was standin' by +holdin' the brandy flask himself when them washed out blue eyes of +Rusty's flickers open for the first time. + +"I--I forgot my--mouth organ," says Rusty. "I wouldn't of come +back--but for that." + +It wa'n't much more'n a whisper, and it was a shaky one at that. So +was Mr. Twombley-Crane's voice kind of shaky when he tells him he +thanks the Lord he did come back. And then Rusty goes off in another +faint. + +Next a real doc. shows up, and he chases us all out while him and the +student has a confab. In five minutes or so we gets the verdict. The +doc. says Rusty is damaged pretty bad. Things have happened to his +ribs and spine which ought to have ended him on the spot. As it is, he +may hold out another hour, though in the shape he's in he don't see how +he can. But if he could hold out that long the doc. knows of an A-1 +sawbones who could mend him up if anyone could. + +"Then telephone for him at once, and do your best meanwhile," says Mr. +Twombley-Crane. + +By that time everyone on the place knows about Rusty and his stunt. +The front rooms was full of people standin' around whisperin' soft to +each other and lookin' solemn,--swell, high toned folks, that half an +hour before hardly knew such specimens as Rusty existed. But when the +word is passed around that probably he's all in, they takes it just as +hard as if he was one of their own kind. When it comes to takin' the +long jump, we're all pretty much on the same grade, ain't we? + +I begun to see where I hadn't any business sizin' up Rusty like I had, +and was workin' up a heavy feelin' in my chest, when the doc. comes out +and asks if there's such a party as Shorty McCabe present. I knew what +was comin'. Rusty has got his eyes open again and is callin' for me. + +I finds him half propped up with pillows on a shiny mahogany table, his +face all screwed up from the hurt inside, and the freckles showin' up +on his dead white skin like peach stains on a table cloth. + +"They say I'm all to the bad, Shorty," says he, tryin' to spring that +grin of his. + +"Aw, cut it out!" says I. "You tell 'em they got another guess. +You're too tough and rugged to go under so easy." + +"Think so?" says he, real eager, his eyes lightin' up. + +"Sure thing!" says I. Say, I put all the ginger and cheerfulness I +could fake up into that lie. And it seems to do him a heap of good. +When I asks him if there's anything he wants, he makes another crack at +his grin, and says: + +"A paper pipe would taste good about now." + +"Let him have it," says the doc. So the student digs out his cigarette +case, and we helps Rusty light up. + +"Ain't there somethin' more, Rusty?" says I. "You know the house is +yours." + +"Well," says he, after a few puffs, "if this is to be a long wait, a +little music would help. There's a piano over in the corner." + +I looks at the doc. and shakes my head. He shakes back. + +"I used to play a few hymns," says the student. + +"Forget 'em, then," says Rusty. "A hymn would finish me, sure. What +I'd like is somethin' lively." + +"Doc.," says I, "would it hurt?" + +"Couldn't," says he. Also he whispers that he'd use chloroform, only +Rusty's heart's too bad, and if he wants ragtime to deal it out. + +"Wish I could," says I; "but maybe I can find some one who can." + +With that I slips out and hunts up Mrs. Twombley-Crane, explainin' the +case to her. + +"Why, certainly," says she. "Where is Effie? I'll send her in right +away." + +She's a real damson plum, Effie is; one of the cute, fluffy haired +kind, about nineteen. She comes in lookin' scared and sober; but when +she's had a look at Rusty, and he's tried his grin on her, and said how +he'd like to hear somebody tear off somethin' that would remind him of +Broadway, she braces right up. + +"I know," says she. + +And say, she did know! She has us whirl the baby grand around so's she +can glance over the top at Rusty, tosses her lace handkerchief into one +corner of the keyboard, pushes back her sleeves until the elbow dimples +show, and the next thing we know she's teasin' the tumpety-tum out of +the ivories like a professor. + +She opens up with a piece you hear all the kids whistlin',--something +with a swing and a rattle to it, I don't know what. But it brings +Rusty up on his elbow and sets him to keepin' time with the cigarette. +Then she slides off into "Poor John!" and Rusty calls out for her to +sing it, if she can. Can she? Why, she's got one of them sterling +silver voices, that makes Vesta Victoria's warblin' sound like blowin' +a fish horn, and before she's half through the first verse Rusty has +joined in. + +"Come on!" says he, as they strikes the chorus. "Everybody!" + +Say, the doc. was right there with the goods. He roars her out like a +good one; and the student chap wa'n't far behind, either. You know how +it goes-- + + John, he took me round to see his moth-er, his moth-er, his moth-er! + And while he introduced us to each oth-er-- + +Eh? Well, maybe that ain't just the way it goes; but I can think the +tune right. That was what I was up against then. I knew I couldn't +make my voice behave; so all I does is go through the motions with my +mouth and tap the time out with my foot. But I sure did ache to jump +in and help Rusty out. + +It was a great concert. She gives us all them classic things, like +"The Bird on Nellie's Hat," "Waiting at the Church," "No Wedding Bells +for Me," and so on; her fingers just dancin', and her head noddin' to +Rusty, and her eyes kind of encouragin' him to keep his grip. + +Twice, though, he has to quit, as the pain twists him; and the last +time, when he flops back on the pillows, we thought he'd passed in for +good. But in a minute or so he's up again' callin' for more. Say, +maybe you think Miss Effie didn't have some grit of her own, to sit +there bangin' out songs like that, expectin' every minute to see him +keel over. But she stays with it, and we was right in the middle of +that chorus that goes-- + + In old New York, in old New York, + The peach crop's always fine-- + +when the foldin' doors was slid back, and in comes the big surgeon gent +we'd been waitin' for. You should have seen the look on him too, as he +sizes up them three singin', and Rusty there on the table, a cigarette +twisted up in his fingers, fightin' down a spasm. + +"What blasted idiocy is this?" he growled. + +"New kind of pain killer, doc.," says I. "Tell you all about it later. +What you want to do now is get busy." + +Well, that's the whole of it. He knew his book, that bone repairer +did. He worked four hours steady, puttin' back into place the parts of +Rusty that had got skewgeed; but when he rolls down his sleeves and +quits he leaves a man that's almost as good as ever, barrin' a few +months to let the pieces grow together. + +I was out to see Rusty yesterday, and he's doin' fine. He's plannin', +when he gets around again, to take the purse that was made up for him +and invest it in airship stock. + +"And if ever I make a million dollars, Shorty," says he, "I'm goin' to +hand over half of it to that gent that sewed me up." + +"Good!" says I. "And if I was you I'd chuck the other half at the song +writers." + + + + +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 +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 canyons 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 Kelts, 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 + + + * * * * * + + +JOHN FOX, JR'S. + +STORIES OF THE KENTUCKY MOUNTAINS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list. + + +THE TRAIL OF THE LONESOME PINE. + +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. + +The "lonesome pine" from which the story takes its name was a tall tree +that stood in solitary splendor on a mountain top. The fame of the +pine lured a young engineer through Kentucky to catch the trail, and +when he finally climbed to its shelter he found not only the pine but +the foot-prints of a girl. And the girl proved to be lovely, piquant, +and the trail of these girlish foot-prints led the young engineer a +madder chase than "the trail of the lonesome pine." + + +THE LITTLE SHEPHERD OF KINGDOM COME + +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. + +This is a story of Kentucky, in a settlement known as "Kingdom Come." +It is a life rude, semi-barbarous; but natural and honest, from which +often springs the flower of civilization. + +"Chad," the "little shepherd" did not know who he was nor whence he +came--he had just wandered from door to door since early childhood, +seeking shelter with kindly mountaineers who gladly fathered and +mothered this waif about whom there was such a mystery--a charming +waif, by the way, who could play the banjo better that anyone else in +the mountains. + + +A KNIGHT OF THE CUMBERLAND. + +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. + +The scenes are laid along the waters of the Cumberland, the lair of +moonshiner and feudsman. The knight is a moonshiner's son, and the +heroine a beautiful girl perversely christened "The Blight." Two +impetuous young Southerners fall under the spell of "The Blight's" +charms and she learns what a large part jealousy and pistols have in +the love making of the mountaineers. + +Included in this volume is "Hell fer-Sartain" and other stories, some +of Mr. Fox's most entertaining Cumberland valley narratives. + +_Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_ + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK + + + * * * * * + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP'S + +DRAMATIZED NOVELS + +THE KIND THAT ARE MAKING THEATRICAL HISTORY + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for 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 + + + * * * * * + + +MYRTLE REED'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list + + +LAVENDER AND OLD LACE. + +A charming story of a quaint corner of New England, where by-gone +romance finds a modern parallel. The story centers round the coming of +love to the young people on the staff of a newspaper--and it is one of +the prettiest, sweetest and quaintest of old-fashioned love stories. + + +MASTER OF THE VINEYARD. + +A pathetic love story of a young girl, Rosemary. The teacher of the +country school, who is also master of the vineyard, comes to know her +through her desire for books. She is happy in his love till another +woman comes into his life. But happiness and emancipation from her +many trials come to Rosemary at last. The book has a touch of humor +and pathos that will appeal to every reader. + + +OLD ROSE AND SILVER. + +A love story,--sentimental and humorous,--with the plot subordinate to +the character delineation of its quaint people and to the exquisite +descriptions of picturesque spots and of lovely, old, rare treasures. + + +A WEAVER OF DREAMS + +This story tells of the love-affairs of three young people, with an +old-fashioned romance in the background. A tiny dog plays an important +role in serving as a foil for the heroine's talking ingeniousness. +There is poetry, as well as tenderness and charm, in this tale of a +weaver of dreams. + + +A SPINNER IN THE SUN. + +An old-fashioned love story, of a veiled lady who lives in solitude and +whose features her neighbors have never seen. There is a mystery at +the heart of the book that throws over it the glamour of romance. + + +THE MASTER'S VIOLIN. + +A love story in a musical atmosphere. A picturesque, old German +virtuoso consents to take for his pupil a handsome youth who proves to +have an aptitude for technique, but not the soul of an artist. The +youth cannot express the love, the passion and the tragedies of life as +can the master. But a girl comes into his life, and through his +passionate love for her, he learns the lessons that life has to +give--and his soul awakes. + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + * * * * * + + +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, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK + + + * * * * * + + +THE NOVELS OF + +STEWART EDWARD WHITE + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and 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, 526 WEST 26th ST., 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 + + + * * * * * + + +CHARMING BOOKS FOR GIRLS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list + + +WHEN PATTY WENT TO COLLEGE, By Jean Webster. + +Illustrated by C. D. Williams. + +One of the best stories of life in a girl's college that has ever been +written. It is bright, whimsical and entertaining, lifelike, laughable +and thoroughly human. + + +JUST PATTY, By Jean Webster. + +Illustrated by C. M. Relyea. + +Patty is full of the joy of living, fun-loving, given to ingenious +mischief for its own sake, with a disregard for pretty convention which +is an unfailing source of joy to her fellows. + + +THE POOR LITTLE RICH GIRL. By Eleanor Gates. + +With four full page illustrations. + +This story relates the experience of one of those unfortunate children +whose early days are passed in the companionship of a governess, seldom +seeing either parent, and famishing for natural love and tenderness. A +charming play as dramatized by the author. + + +REBECCA OF SUNNYBROOK FARM, By Kate Douglas Wiggin. + +One of the most beautiful studies of childhood--Rebecca's artistic, +unusual and quaintly charming qualities stand out midst a circle of +austere New Englanders. The stage version is making a phenomenal +dramatic record. + + +NEW CHRONICLES OF REBECCA, By Kate Douglas Wiggin. + +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. + +Additional episodes in the girlhood of this delightful heroine that +carry Rebecca through various stages to her eighteenth birthday. + + +REBECCA MARY, By Annie Hamilton Donnell. + +Illustrated by Elizabeth Shippen Green. + +This author possesses the rare gift of portraying all the grotesque +little joys and sorrows and scruples of this very small girl with a +pathos that is peculiarly genuine and appealing. + + +EMMY LOU: Her Book and Heart, By George Madden Martin, + +Illustrated by Charles Louis Hinton. + +Emmy Lou is irresistibly lovable, because she is so absolutely real. +She is just a bewitchingly innocent, hugable little maid. The book is +wonderfully human. + + +_Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_ + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK + + + * * * * * + + +THE NOVELS OF + +CLARA LOUISE BURNHAM + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list + + +JEWEL: A Chapter in Her Life. + +Illustrated by Maude and Genevieve Cowles. + +A story breathing the doctrine of love and patience as exemplified in +the life of a child. Jewel will never grow old because of the +immortality of her love. + + +JEWEL'S STORY BOOK. Illustrated by Albert Schmitt + +A sequel to "Jewel," in which the same characteristics of love and +cheerfulness touch and uplift the reader. + + +THE INNER FLAME. Frontispiece in color. + +A young mining engineer, whose chief ambition is to become an artist, +but who has no friends with whom to realize his hopes, has a way opened +to him to try his powers, and, of course, he is successful. + + +THE RIGHT PRINCESS. + +At a fashionable Long Island resort, a stately English woman employs a +forcible New England housekeeper to serve in her interesting home. +Many humorous situations results. A delightful love affair runs +through it all. + + +THE OPENED SHUTTERS. + +Illustrated with Scenes from the Photo Play. + +A beautiful woman, at discord with life, is brought to realize, by her +new friends, that she may open the shutters of her soul to the blessed +sunlight of joy by casting aside self love. + + +THE RIGHT TRACK. + +Frontispiece in color by Greene Blumenschien. + +A story of a young girl who marries for money so that she can enjoy +things intellectual. Neglect of her husband and of her two step +children makes an unhappy home till a friend brings a new philosophy of +happiness into the household. + + +CLEVER BETSY. Illustrated by Rose O'Neill. + +The "Clever Betsy" was a boat--named for the unyielding spinster whom +the captain hoped to marry. Through the two Betsy's a delightful group +of people are introduced. + + +_Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_ + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK + + + * * * * * + + +SEWELL FORD'S STORIES + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list + + +SHORTY McCABE. Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson. + +A very humorous story. The hero, an independent and vigorous thinker, +sees life, and tells about it in a very unconventional way. + + +SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY. + +Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson. + +Twenty skits, presenting people with their foibles, sympathy, with +human nature and an abounding sense of humor are the requisites for +"side-stepping with Shorty." + + +SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB. + +Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson. + +Shorty McCabe reappears with his figures of speech revamped right up to +the minute. He aids in the right distribution of a "conscience fund," +and gives joy to all concerned. + + +SHORTY McCABE'S ODD NUMBERS. + +Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson. + +These further chronicles of Shorty McCabe tell of his studio for +physical culture, and of his experiences both on the East side and at +swell yachting parties. + + +TORCHY. Illus. by Geo. Biehm and Jas. Montgomery Flagg. + +A red-headed office boy, overflowing with wit and wisdom peculiar to +the youths reared on the sidewalks of New York, tells the story of his +experiences. + + +TRYING OUT TORCHY. Illustrated by F. Foster Lincoln. + +Torchy is just as deliriously funny in these stories as he was in the +previous book. + + +ON WITH TORCHY. Illustrated by F. Foster Lincoln. + +Torchy falls desperately in love with "the only girl that ever was," +but that young society woman's aunt tries to keep the young people +apart, which brings about many hilariously funny situations. + + +TORCHY, PRIVATE SEC. Illustrated by F. Foster Lincoln. + +Torchy rises from the position of office boy to that of secretary for +the Corrugated Iron Company. The story is full of humor and infectious +American slang. + + +WILT THOU TORCHY. Illus. by F. Snapp and A. W. Brown. + +Torchy goes on a treasure search expedition to the Florida West Coast, +in company with a group of friends of the Corrugated Trust and with his +friend's aunt, on which trip Torchy wins the aunt's permission to place +an engagement ring on Vee's finger. + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + * * * * * + + +JACK LONDON'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list + + +JOHN BARLEYCORN. Illustrated by H. T. Dunn. + +This remarkable book is a record of the author's own amazing +experiences. This big, brawny world rover, who has been acquainted +with alcohol from boyhood, comes out boldly against John Barleycorn. +It is a string of exciting adventures, yet it forcefully conveys an +unforgetable idea and makes a typical Jack London book. + + +THE VALLEY OF THE MOON. Frontispiece by George Harper. + +The story opens in the city slums where Billy Roberts, teamster and +ex-prize fighter, and Saxon Brown, laundry worker, meet and love and +marry. They tramp from one end of California to the other, and in the +Valley of the Moon find the farm paradise that is to be their salvation. + + +BURNING DAYLIGHT. Four illustrations. + +The story of an adventurer who went to Alaska and laid the foundations +of his fortune before the gold hunters arrived. Bringing his fortunes +to the States he is cheated out of it by a crowd of money kings, and +recovers it only at the muzzle of his gun. He then starts out as a +merciless exploiter on his own account. Finally he takes to drinking +and becomes a picture of degeneration. About this time he falls in +love with his stenographer and wins her heart but not her hand and +then--but read the story! + + +A SON OF THE SUN. Illustrated by A. O. Fischer and C. W. Ashley. + +David Grief was once a light-haired, blue-eyed youth who came from +England to the South Seas in search of adventure. Tanned like a native +and as lithe as a tiger, he became a real son of the sun. The life +appealed to him and he remained and became very wealthy. + + +THE CALL OF THE WILD. Illustrations by Philip R. Goodwin and Charles +Livingston Bull. Decorations by Charles E. Hooper. + +A book of dog adventures as exciting as any man's exploits could be. +Here is excitement to stir the blood and here is picturesque color to +transport the reader to primitive scenes. + + +THE SEA WOLF. Illustrated by W. J. Aylward. + +Told by a man whom Fate suddenly swings from his fastidious life into +the power of the brutal captain of a sealing schooner. A novel of +adventure warmed by a beautiful love episode that every reader will +hail with delight. + + +WHITE FANG. Illustrated by Charles Livingston Bull. + +"White Fang" is part dog, part wolf and all brute, living in the frozen +north; he gradually comes under the spell of man's companionship, and +surrenders all at the last in a fight with a bull dog. Thereafter he +is man's loving slave. + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + * * * * * + + +NOVELS OF FRONTIER LIFE BY + +WILLIAM MacLEOD RAINE + +HANDSOMELY BOUND IN CLOTH. ILLUSTRATED. + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list + + +MAVERICKS. + +A tale of the western frontier, where the "rustler," whose depredations +are so keenly resented by the early settlers of the range, abounds. +One of the sweetest love stories ever told. + + +A TEXAS RANGER. + +How a member of the most dauntless border police force carried law into +the mesquit, saved the life of an innocent man after a series of +thrilling adventures, followed a fugitive to Wyoming, and then passed +through deadly peril to ultimate happiness. + + +WYOMING. + +In this vivid story of the outdoor West the author has captured the +breezy charm of "cattleland," and brings out the turbid life of the +frontier with all its engaging dash and vigor. + + +RIDGWAY OF MONTANA. + +The scene is laid in the mining centers of Montana, where politics and +mining industries are the religion of the country. The political +contest, the love scene, and the fine character drawing give this story +great strength and charm. + + +BUCKY O'CONNOR. + +Every chapter teems with wholesome, stirring adventures, replete with +the dashing spirit of the border, told with dramatic dash and absorbing +fascination of style and plot. + + +CROOKED TRAILS AND STRAIGHT. + +A story of Arizona; of swift-riding men and daring outlaws; of a bitter +feud between cattle-men and sheep-herders. The heroine is a most +unusual woman and her love story reaches a culmination that is +fittingly characteristic of the great free West. + + +BRAND BLOTTERS. + +A story of the Cattle Range. This story brings out the turbid life of +the frontier, with all its engaging dash and vigor, with a charming +love interest running through its 320 pages. + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Side-stepping with Shorty, by Sewell Ford + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY *** + +***** This file should be named 31659.txt or 31659.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/6/5/31659/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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