[Illustration: I FOUND MYSELF LOOKING SQUARE INTO THEM BIG GRAY EYES. (Frontispiece)]

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TORCHYBYSEWELL FORD

AUTHOR OFTRYING OUT TORCHY, ETC. 

FRONTISPIECE BYGEORGE BREHM

NEW YORKGROSSET & DUNLAPPUBLISHERS

Made in the United States of America

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Copyright, 1909, 1910, bySEWELL FORD

COPYRIGHT, 1911, byEDWARD J. CLODE

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TO MYTRULY USEFUL AND GENIAL FRIEND

W. A. C. 

AT WHOSE SUGGESTION THISCHRONICLE OF THE DOINGS OF TORCHYCAME TO BE MADE

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CONTENTS

 CHAPTER PAGE

 I. Getting in with the Glory Be 1 II. A Jolt for Piddie 18 III. Meeting up with the Great Skid 34 IV. Frosting the Profess 51 V. Where Mildred Got Next 67 VI. Shunting Brother Bill 83 VII. Keeping Tabs on Piddie 100 VIII. A Whirl with Kazedky 117 IX. Down the Bumps with Cliffy 132 X. Backing out of a Fluff Riot 148 XI. Rung in with the Gold Spooners 162 XII. Landing on a Side Street 177 XIII. First Aid for the Main Stem 193 XIV. In on the Oolong 209 XV. Batting it up to Torchy 226 XVI. Throwing the Line to Skid 241 XVII. Touching on Tink Tuttle 258 XVIII. Getting Hermes on the Bounce 275 XIX. When Miss Vee Threw the Dare 294

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TORCHY

CHAPTER I

GETTING IN WITH THE GLORY BE

Sure, I was carryin' the banner. But say, I ain't one of them kids thatgets callouses on the hands doin' it. When I'm handed the fresh air onpayday, I don't choke to death over it. I goes out and rustles foranother job. And I takes my pick, too. Why not? It's just as easy. 

This time I gets a bug that the new Octopus Buildin' might have been putup special for me. Anyway, it looked good from the outside, and I blowsin through the plate glass merry go round. The arcade was all to thebutterscotch, everything handy, from an A. D. T. Stand to Turkish bathsin the basement. 

"Got any express elevators?" says I to the starter guy. 

"Think of buying the buildin', sonny?" says he. 

"There'd be room for you on the sidewalk if I did, " says I. "But say, ifyou can tear your eyes off the candy counter queen long enough, tell mewho's got a sign out this mornin'. "

"They're going to elect a second vice-president of the Interurbanto-day. Would that suit you?" says he, twistin' up his lip whisker andlookin' cute. 

"Maybe, " says I; "but I'd take a portfolio as head office boy if I knewwhere to butt in. "

"Then chase up to 2146, " says he. "You'll find 'em waitin' for you witha net. Here's your car. Up!" and before I knows it I has done theskyrocket act up to floor twenty-one. 

Well say, you wouldn't have thought so many kids read the want ads. Andhad the courage to tackle an early breakfast. The corridor was full of'em, all sizes, all kinds. It looked like recess time at a boys' orphanasylum, and with me against the field I stood to be a sure loser. Ihadn't no more'n climbed out before they starts to throw the josh myway. 

"Hey, Reddy, get in line! The foot for yours, Peachblow!" they yells atme. 

And then I comes back. "Ah, flag it!" says I. "Do I look like I belongedin your class? Brush by, you three-dollar pikers, and give a salariedman a show!"

With that I makes a quick rush at 2146 and gets through the door beforethey has time to make a howl. The letterin' on the ground glass waswhat got me. It said as how this was the home office of the Glory BeMining Company, and there was a string of high-toned names as long asyour arm. But the minute I sizes up the inside exhibit I wasn't soanxious. I was lookin' for about a thousand feet of floor space; but allI could see was a couple of six by nines, includin' a clothes closet anda corner washbowl. There was a grand aggregation of two as an officeforce. One was a young lady key pounder, with enough hair piled on topof her head to stuff a mattress. The other was a long faced young fellerwith an ostrich neck and a voice that sounded like a squeaky door. 

"Go outside!" says he, wavin' his hands and puttin' on a weary look. "Mr. Pepper can't see any of you until he has finished with the mail. Now run along. "

"I can't, " says I; "my feet won't let me. Is that the Pepper box inthere?"

The door was open a foot or two; so I steps up to take a peek at themain squeeze. And say, the minute I sees him I knew he'd do. He wa'n'tone of these dried up whiskered freaks, nor he wa'n't any human hog, with no neck and three chins. He was the kind of a gent you see comin'out of them swell cafés, and he looked like a winner, Mr. Belmont Pepperdid. His breakfast seemed to be settin' as well as his coat collar, andyou could tell with one eye that he wouldn't come snoopin' around earlyin the day, nor hang around the shop after five. Pepper has his heels upon the rolltop, burnin' a real Havana. That's the kind of a boss Ilikes. I lays out to connect, too. 

"Say, " says I to the long faced duck, "you hold your breath a minute andI'll be back!"

Then I steps outside, yanks the "Boy Wanted" sign off the nail, and saysto the crowd good and brisk, just as though I come direct fromheadquarters:

"It's all over, kids, and unless you're waitin' to have a group picturetaken you'd better hit the elevator. "

Wow! There was call for another sudden move just then. I was lookin' forthat, though, and by the time the first two of 'em struck the door I wason the other side with the key turned. Riot? Well say, you'd thought I'dpinched the only job in New York! They kicked on the door and yelledthrough the transom and got themselves all worked up. 

The lady key pounder grabs hold of both sides of her table and almostswallows her tuttifrutti, the ostrich necked chap turns pea green, andMr. Pepper swings his door open and sings out, real cheerful:

"Mr. Sweetwater, can't you get yourself mobbed without being so noisyabout it? What's up, anyway?"

But Sweetwater wasn't a lightnin' calculator. He stands there with hismouth open, gawpin' at me, and tryin' to figure out what's broke loose;so I pushes to the front and helps him out. 

"There's a bunch of also rans out there, Mr. Pepper, " says I, "thatdon't know when to fade. They're just grouchy because I've swiped thejob. "

I was lookin' for him to sit up at that; but he don't. "What makes youthink that you've got it!" says he. 

"'Cause I'm in and they're out, " says I. "Anyway, they're a lot ofdopes, and a man like you wants a live one around. That's me. Where do Ibegin?" And I chucks the sign into a waste basket and hangs my cap on ahook. 

Now, that ain't any system you can follow reg'lar. I don't often do itthat way, 'cause I ain't any fonder of bein' thrown through a door thanthe next one. But this was a long shot and I was willin' to run therisk. That fat headed starter knew he was steerin' me up against a mob;so I was just achin' to squeeze the lemon in his eye by makin' good. 

For awhile, though, I couldn't tell whether I was up in a balloon or letin on the ground floor. Mr. Pepper was givin' me the search warrantlook-over, and I see he's one of these gents that you can't jar easy. Ihadn't rushed him off his feet by my through the center play. There wasstill plenty of chance of my gettin' the low tackle. 

"If I might ask, " says he, smooth as a silk lid, "what is your name?"

"Ah, w'at's the use?" says I, duckin' my head. "Look at that hair! Youmight's well begin callin' me Torchy; you'd come to it. "

He didn't grin nor nothin'; but only I see his eyes wrinkle a little atthe corners. "Very well, Torchy, " says he. "I suppose you have yourreferences?"

"Nah, I ain't, " says I. "But if you're stuck on such things I can get'em. There's a feller down on Ann-st. That'll write beauts for a quartera throw. "

"So?" says he. "Then we'll pass that point. Why did you leave your lastplace?"

"By request, " says I. "The stiff gives me the fire. He said I was toofresh. "

"He was mistaken, I suppose, " says Mr. Pepper. "You're not fresh, areyou?"

"Well say, I ain't no last year's limed egg, " says I. "If you're lookin'for somethin' that's been in the brine all winter, you'd better put thehook in again. "

He rubs his chin at that. "Do you like hard work?" says he. 

"Think I'd be chasin' up an office boy snap, if I did?" says I. 

He takes a minute or so to let that soak in, knockin' his cigar ashesoff on the rug in that careless way a man that ain't married does, andthen he springs another. 

"I presume that if you were left alone in the office occasionally, " sayshe, "you could learn to run the business?"

"Nix, not!" says I. "When I plays myself for a confidential manager Iwants to pull down more than four per. Givin' book agents the quick backup and runnin' errands is my strong points. For tips on the market andsuch as that I charges overtime. "

Course, I'd figured it was all off by then, seein' as how I hadn't rungthe bell at any crack. That's why I was so free with the hot air. Mr. Pepper, he squints at me good and hard, and then pushes the call button. 

"Mr. Sweetwater, " says he, "this young man's name is Torchy. I'vepersuaded him to assist us in running the affairs of the Glory Be MiningCompany. Put him on the payroll at five a week, and then induce thatmass meeting in the corridor to adjourn. "

"Say, " says I, "does that mean I'm picked?"

"You're the chosen one, " says he. 

"Gee!" says I. "You had me guessin', though! But you ain't drawn anyblank. I'll shinny on your side, Mr. Pepper, as long's you'll letme--and that's no gust of wind, either. "

And say, inside of three days I'd got the minin' business down to ascience. Course it was a cinch. All I has to do is fold bunches ofcirculars, stick stamps on the envelopes, and lug 'em up to the generalP. O. Once a day. That, and chasin' out after a dollar's worth of cigarsnow and then for Mr. Pepper, and keepin' Sweetie jollied along, didn'tmake me round shouldered. 

Sweetie was cut out for the undertakin' business, by rights. He tookthings hard, he did. Every tick of the clock was a solemn moment forhim, and me gettin' a stamp on crooked was a case that called for aheart to heart talk. He used to show me the books he was keepin', andthe writin' was as reg'lar as if it'd been done on a job press. 

"You're a wonder, you are, Sweetie, " says I; "but some day your hand isgoing to joggle, and there'll be a blot on them pages, and then you'lldie of heart disease. "

Miss Allen, the typewriter fairy, was a good deal of a frost. She wasone of the kind that would blow her lunch money on havin' her hair donelike some actress, and worry through the week on an apple and two piecesof fudge at noon. I never had much use for her. She called me just Boy, as though I wa'n't hardly human at all. She'd sit and pat that hair ofhers by the hour, feelin' to see if all the diff'rent waves and buncheswas still there. It was a work of art, all right; but it didn't leaveher time to think of much else. I used to get her wild by askin' how thesix other sisters was comin' on these days. 

We didn't have any great rush of customers in the office. About twice aday some one would stray in; but gen'rally they was lookin' for otherparties, and we didn't take in money enough over the counter to pay thetowel bill. It had me worried some, until I tumbles that the Glory Bewas a mail order snap. 

All them circulars we sent out told about the mine. And say, after I'dread one of 'em I didn't see how it was we didn't have a crowd throwin'money at us. It was good readin', too, almost as excitin' as a nickellib'ry. I'd never been right next to a gold mine before, and it got mebug eyed just thinkin' about it. 

Why, this mine of ours was one that the Injuns had kept hid for yearsand years, killin' off every white man that stuck his nose into the samecounty. But after awhile a feller by the name of Dakota Dan turnedInjun, got himself adopted by the tribe, and monkeyed around until hefound the mine. It near blinded him the first squint he got of them bigchunks of gold. The Injuns caught him at it and finished the businesswith hot irons. Then they roasted him over a fire some and turned himloose to enjoy himself. He was tougher'n a motorman, though. He didn'tdie for years after that; but he never said nothin' about the gold mineuntil he was nearly all in. Then he told his oldest boy the tale andgave him a map of the place, makin' him swear he'd never go near it. Theboy stuck to it, too. He grew up and kept a grocery store, and it wa'n'tuntil after he'd died of lockjaw from runnin' a rusty nail in his handand the widow had sold out the store to a Swede that the map showed up. The Swede swapped the map to a soap drummer for half a dozen cakes ofscented shaving sticks, and the drummer goes explorin'. 

He had a soap drummer's luck. He didn't find any Injuns left. Most of'em had died off and the rest had joined Wild West shows. The gold minewas there, though, with chunks of solid gold lyin' around as big aspeach baskets. Mr. Drummer looks until his eyes ache, and then he hikeshimself back East to get up a comp'ny to work the mine. He'd just madeplans to build a solid gold mansion on Fifth-ave. And hire John D. Rockefeller for a butler, when he strays into one of these Gospelmissions and gets religion so hard that he can't shake it. Then he seeshow selfish it would be to keep all that gold for himself. "But how'llI divvy it?" says he. "And who with?"

Then he decides that he'll divide with ministers, because they'll use itbest. So he gets up this Glory Be Mining Company, and hires Mr. Pepperto sell the stock at twenty-five cents a share to all the preachers inthe country. 

Blamed if it wa'n't straight goods! I looked on the letters we sent out, and every last one of 'em was to ministers. Talk about your easy money!This was like pickin' it off the bushes. Mr. Pepper shows 'em how theycan put in fifty or a hundred dollars and in three or four years bepullin' out their thousands in dividends. 

You'd thought they'd came a runnin' at a chance like that, wouldn't you?There we was givin' 'em a private hunch on a proposition that was allvelvet. But say, only about one in ten ever hands us a comeback. It wasenough to make a man turn the hose on his grandmother. 

Course, a few of 'em did loosen up and send on real money. I used tostand around and pipe off the boss while he shucked the mail, and Icould tell whether it was fat or lean by the time it took him to eatlunch. The days when I was sent out to cash five or six money orders, and soak away a bunch of checks, he'd call a cab at twelve-thirty andwouldn't come back until near four; but when there wa'n't much doin'he'd send out for a tray and put in the afternoon dictatin' names andaddresses to Miss Allen. 

Then there come a slack spell that lasted for a couple of weeks, and wedidn't get hardly any mail at all, except from some crank out inIllinois that had splurged on a whole ten dollars' worth of shares, andwrote in about every other day wantin' to know when the dividends wasgoin' to begin comin' his way. I heard Miss Allen talkin' it over withSweetie. 

It was along about then that this duck from the post-office buildin'showed up. He comes gumshoein' around one noon hour, while I was all bymy lonesome, and he asks a whole lot of questions that I'd forgot theanswer to. I was tellin' the boss about him that night around closin' uptime. 

"I sized him up for one of them cheap skates from the Marshal's office, "says I. "I didn't know what his game was and I wa'n't goin' to give upall I knew to him; so I tells him to call around to-morrow and you'llload him up with all the information his nut can hold. Was that right?"

Mr. Pepper seems to be mighty int'rested for awhile; but then he grins, pats me on the shoulder, and says: "That was just right, Torchy, exactlyright. I couldn't have done it better myself. "

But half an hour later, after Miss Allen has stuck her gum on thepaperweight and skipped, and Sweetwater has slid out too, and just as Iwas gettin' ready to call it a day, Mr. Pepper calls me in on the rug. 

"Torchy, " says he, "during the brief period that we have been associatedin business I have found your services very valuable and your societyvery cheering. In other words, Torchy, you're all right. "

"There's a pair of us, then, " says I. "You're as good as they make them, Mr. Pepper. "

"Thanks, Torchy, " says he, "thanks. " Then he looks out of the window fora minute before he asks how I'd like a two-weeks' vacation with pay. 

"Well, " says I, "seein' as how Coney's froze up, and Palm Beach don'tagree with my health, I'd just as soon put them two weeks in storageuntil July. "

"I see, " says he; "but the fact is, Torchy, I've had a sudden call to goWest. "

"Out to the Glory Be mine?" says I. 

"You've guessed it, " says he. "And I am taking this opportunity forreleasing Sweetwater and Miss Allen. "

"They ain't much use, anyway, " says I. "But you wouldn't shut up theshop for fair, would you? Don't you want some one on hand to answerfool questions, or steer cranks off like that post-office guy that'scomin' to-morrow? Unless you think I'd hook the rolltop or pinch theletterpress, you'd better leave me sittin' on the lid. "

Well, sir, he seemed to take to that notion, and the next thing I knowsI'm tellin him about my scheme of wantin' to save up enough dough to payfor a little bunch of them Glory Be stocks. 

"It's a shame to waste all that good money on people that don't know acinch when it's passed out to 'em, " says I, "and I've been thinkin' thatif I hung to the business long enough maybe I'd have a show to buy in. "

Say, you couldn't guess what Mr. Pepper up and does then. He opens thesafe, counts out a hundred shares of Glory Be common, and fills out thetransfer to me right on the spot. 

"Now, Torchy, " says he, "it will cost you five weeks' salary to pay forthese; but if I raise you a dollar a week and take it out a little at atime you'll never miss it. Anyway, you're a shareholder from now on. "

Did you ever get rich all of a sudden, like that! You feel it first upand down the small of your back, and then it goes to your knees. Icouldn't say a blamed word that was sensible. I don't know just what Idid say, and I never come to until after Mr. Pepper'd finished up andgone, leavin' me with two-weeks' pay in my pocket, and a big envelopefull of them Glory Be shares, all printed in gold and purple ink, with apicture of Dakota Dan in the middle. 

I couldn't eat a bite of supper that night, and I puts in the evenin'readin' over them pamphlets we'd been sendin' out until I knew everyword of it by heart. I'll bet I got up and hid them stocks in a dozendiff'rent places before mornin', and an hour before bankin' time I wassittin' on the steps of the Treasury Trust concern, waitin' to hire oneof them steel pigeon-holes down in the vaults. After I'd got theenvelope stowed away and tied the key around my neck with a string, Igoes back to the office. Sweetie and Miss Allen was there, with theirhammers goin'. They'd found their blue tickets and their week's pay andwas just clearin' out. 

"I'd been planning to make a change for the last two weeks, " says MissAllen. "I was looking for something like this. "

"Me too, " says Sweetie. "It's rough on Torchy, though. "

"Say, don't you waste any sympathy on me, " says I, "and don't let offany more knocks at Mr. Pepper. I won't stand for it!"

With that they snickers and does a slow exit. That leaves me runnin' thegold minin' business single handed; but me bein' one of the firm, asyou might say, it was all right. I'd always had a notion that I'd be aplute some day; but honest, I wa'n't expectin' it so sudden. I was justtryin' to get used to it, when the door opens and in drifts that guyfrom the Marshal's office. 

"Where's Mr. Belmont Pepper?" says he. 

"Well, " says I, "the last time I saw him he was headed west. "

"Skipped out!" says the gent, doin' the foiled villyun stunt with hisface. 

"Skipped nothin', " says I. "Mr. Pepper's gone out to look after themine. "

"Oh, he's gone to the mine, has he?" says the duck. "See here, kid, I'ma United States Deputy Marshal. Don't you try to tell me any fairystories, or you'll pull down trouble. We want your Mr. Pepper, and wewant him bad! He's a crook. "

Well say, it was a hot argument we had. He tries to tell me that thisminin' business is all a bunko game, and that there's a paper out forthe boss. Then he camps down in the private office and says he'll waituntil Mr. Pepper shows up. He makes a stab at it, too, and a nice longwait he has. I stuck it out for two weeks with him, tryin' to beat itinto his head that the Glory Be mine was a real gilt edged proposition. I'd have been there yet, only they comes and lugs off all the desks andthings and makes me give up the keys. 

Say, it was a tough deal, all right. It was some jay that stirred up allthe muss, howlin' for his coin that he thought he'd lost. But look atthe hole I'm in, after bein' so brash to Mr. Pepper about stayin' on thelid, and him lettin' me write my own valuation ticket! How do I squareit with him when he comes back and finds I've stood around and seen himclosed out?

Old Velvet Foot, the deputy, says if the boss comes back at all he'll bewearin' a diff'rent face and flaggin' under another name. But I knowbetter. He's as square as a pavin' block. If he wa'n't, why was hedistributin' Glory Be stocks among fool outsiders, instead of keepin' itin the fam'ly?

"Ah, brush your belfry!" says I. "Your mind needs chloride of lime onit. "

But say, shareholder or not, I've got to plug the market for somethin'that'll pass with the landlady. I've been livin' on crullers and coffeefor two days now, and that starter guy says if I don't quit hangin'around the arcade he'll have me pinched. I've wrote out a note to leavefor Mr. Pepper, and I guess it's up to me to frisk another job. 

You don't know where they want a near-plute as temp'rary office boy, doyou?

CHAPTER II

A JOLT FOR PIDDIE

It's a case of "comin' up, up" with me. Sure as ever! Ain't I got stockin a gold mine? And now I'm in with the Corrugated Trust. Why, say, twomoves more and I'll be first vice-president. There's only his door, andthe general manager's, and then me. 

I'm behind the brass rail, next to the spring water. When you have thefront to push through the plate glass, you see me first. If I likes yourlooks, and your card reads right, maybe I gives you a peek at Mr. Piddie. Anyone that gets past Piddie's a bird. He's the Inside Brother, Keeper of the Seal, Watch on the Rhine, and a lot more. He draws downsalary for bein' confidential secretary to the G. M. ; but Con. Sec. Don't half cover it. He keeps the run of everything, from what the lastquarterly dividend was down to how many tubs of pins is used by theoffice force every month. 

I'd never made good with Piddie in a month of Yom Kippurs if it hadn'tbeen for Old Heavyweight, the main squeeze. Piddie had ten of us linedup for the elimination test, and was puttin' us through the catechismand the civil service, when in pads Mr. Ellins--you know, HickoryEllins. Ever see our V. P. ? Say, he uses up cloth enough in his vest tomake me a whole suit. 

He's a ripe old sport, with a complexion like an Easter egg, and a pairo' blinks that'd look a hole through a chilled steel vault. He runs usover without losin' step, sticks out a finger as he goes by, and saysover his shoulder, "Piddie, take that one!"

Me, I was in range. Piddie made a bluff at goin' on with the thirddegree business; but the other entries begins to edge for the door. Iwas the one best bet; so what was the use? See what it is to have athirty-two candle power thatch? He couldn't have missed me, less'n he'dbeen color blind. There's worse things can happen to you than red hair, all right. 

Piddie was sore on me from the start, though. He'd made up his mind totag a nice little mommer's boy, with a tow colored top and a girlyvoice. Them's the kind that forgets to bring back change and always hasstamps to sell. Oh, I sized up Piddie for a two by four right at the getaway; but I've been keepin' him jollied along just for the fun of it. 

"J. Hemmingway Piddie" is the way he has it printed. Think of wastin'all them letters, when just plain Piddie is as good as seein' a stripof pingpong pictures of him! He's mostly up and down, Piddie is, likehe'd been pulled out of a bundle of laths, and he's got one of theseinquisitive noses that's sharp enough to file bills on. 

Refined conversation is Piddie's strong hold. It bubbles out of him likesteam out of the oatmeal kettle. Sounds that way, too. You know thesemush eaters, with their, "Ah, I'm su-ah, quite su-ah, doncher know"?He's got that kind of lingo down to an art. I'll bet he could talk it inhis sleep. I've heard 'em before; but I never looked to hold a sit. Under one. 

It's a privilege, though, bein' so close to Piddie. If I don't forgetall the things he tells me, and follows 'em, I'll be made over new in amonth more. He begins with my name. Torchy don't fit right with him. Itmight do for some places he didn't mention, but not for the home officesof the Corrugated Trust. 

"Maybe you'd like Reginald better!" says I. 

"But--er--aw--is that your baptismal name, my boy?" says he. 

"Nix, " says I. "I'm no Baptist. And, anyway, I couldn't give up my realname, cause I'm travelin' incog. , and me noble relatives would beshocked if they knew I was really workin'. You can call me Torchy, orReginald, whichever you think of first, and if you be careful to say itreal nice maybe I'll come. "

Every time I throws a jolt like that into J. Hemmingway, he looks kindof stunned and goes off to chew it over. But he gets even all right. Sometimes he'll take a whole forenoon to dig up somethin' he thinks isgoin' to give me the double cross. 

Most of his spare time, though, he puts in tellin' me about how I'm tobehave when Mr. Robert comes back. For the first few days I had an ideaMr. Robert was the pulley that carried the big belt, and that when hestopped there was a general shut down. I got nervous watchin' for him. Then I rounds up the fact that he's Bob Ellins, who cuts more ice in thesociety columns than he does in the Wall Street notes. 

Piddie has him down for a little tin god, all right, and that wa'n'tsuch a fool move of Piddie's, either. Some day Hickory Ellins will haveto quit and take the hot baths regular, and then Mr. Robert will getacquainted with an eight o'clock breakfast. See where Piddie comes in?He's takin' out insurance on his job. He needs it bad enough. If I everget to think as much of a job as Piddie does of his, I'll have some onenail me to the office chair. 

Rule No. 1 on my card was never to let anyone through the brass gateunless they belonged inside or had a special permit. Piddie wants toknow if I've ever had any experience with that kind of work. 

"Say, where do you think I've been!" says I. "Why, I did that trick forsix months, shuntin' dopes away from the Sunday editor's door, and therewas times when nothin' but a club would keep some of 'em out. Back tothe bridge, Piddie! When I'm on the gate it's just as good as thoughyou'd set the time lock. "

Well, I'd been there over one payday and halfway to the next, when onemornin' about ten-thirty the door comes open with a bang, and in steps ahusky young gent, swingin' one of these dinky, leather-covered canes, and lookin' like money from the mint. He didn't make any play to draw acard, same's they generally does; but steers straight for the brassgate, full tilt. I never says a word; but just as he reaches over tospring the catch and break in, I shoves my foot out and blocks it at thebottom, bringin' him up all standin'. 

"Say, this ain't no ferryhouse, " says I. 

"Hello!" says he. "A new one, eh?"

"I ain't any Fourth-ave. Antique, " says I; "but I'm over seven. Was youwantin' to see anyone special?"

He seems to think that's a joke. "Why, " says he, "I am Mr. Ellins. "

"G'wan!" says I. "You ain't half of him. "

That reaches his funnybone, too. "You're perfectly right, young man, "says he; "but I happen to be his son. Now are you satisfied?"

"Nope, " says I. "That bluff don't go either. If you was Mr. Robert I'dhave been struck by lightnin' long 'fore this. You've got one moreguess. "

Just then I hears a gurgle, like some one's bein' choked with a chickenbone, and I squints around behind. There was Piddie, lookin' like thebuildin' was fallin' down and tryin' to uncork some remarks. 

"Ah, Piddie!" says the gent. "Perhaps you will introduce me to your newsentry and give me the password. "

Well, Piddie did. He almost got on his hands and knees doin' it. Andsay, blamed if the duck wa'n't Mr. Robert, after all!

"Gee!" says I, "that was a bad break. "

That didn't soothe Piddie, though. He used up the best part of an hourtryin' to tell me what an awful thing I'd gone and done. 

"This ends you, young man!" he says. "You're as good as discharged thisvery moment. "

"Is that all?" says I. "Why, by the way you've been takin' on I figuredon nothin' less than sudden death. But if it's only bein' fired, don'tyou worry. I've had that happen to me so often that I get uneasy withoutit. If I should wear a stripe for every time the can's been tied to me, my sleeves would look like a couple of barber's poles. Cheer up, Piddie!Maybe they'll let you pick out somethin' that suits you better nexttime. "

He couldn't get over it, though. Along about lunch time he comes out tome, as solemn as though he's servin' a warrant for homicide, and saysthat Mr. Robert will attend to my case now. 

"Piddie, " says I, givin' him the partin' grip, "you've been a truefriend of mine. When you hear me hit the asphalt, send out for achocolate ice cream soda and drown your sorrow. "

Then I turns down a page in "Old Sleuth's Revenge" and goes to theslaughter. 

Mr. Robert has just talked about three cylinders full of answers to theletters that's piled up while he's been gone, and as the girl goes outwith the records he whirls around in the mahogany easy-chair and takes agood long look at me. 

"If it comes as hard as all that, " says I, "I'll write out myresignation. "

"Mr. Piddie's been talking to you, I suppose?" says he. 

"He's done everything but say mass over me, " says I. 

"Piddie is a good deal of an----" then he pulls up. "Where the deucedid he find you?"

"It wasn't him found me, " says I; "it was a case of me findin' him; butif it hadn't been for your old man's buttin' in, that's all the good itwould have done me. "

"Ah!" says he. "That explains the mystery. By the way, son, what do theycall you?"

"Guess, " says I, and runs me fingers through it. "Just Torchy, and itsuits me as well as Percival or Montgomery. "

"Torchy is certainly descriptive, " says he. "How long have you beendoing office work?"

"Ever since I could lift a waste basket, " says I. 

"Are you ambitious?" says he. 

"Sure!" says I. "I'm waitin' for some bank president to adopt me. "

"You came in here expecting to be discharged, I presume?" says he. 

"What, me?" says I. "Nah! I thought you was goin' to ask me over to theCaffy Martang for lunch. "

For a minute or so after that he looks me straight in the eye, and Igives him the same. And say, for the kind, he ain't so worse. Course, Iwouldn't swap him for Mr. Belmont Pepper, who's the only boss I ever hadthat I calls the real thing; but Mr. Robert would get a ratin'anywhere. 

"Torchy, " says he after a bit, "I'm inclined to think that you'll do. Have a chair. "

"Don't I get the blue ticket, then?" says I. 

"No, " says he, "not until you do something worse than obey orders. Besides you're the cheekiest youth that has ever graced the offices ofthe Corrugated Trust, and once in awhile we have use for just such aquality. For instance, I am tempted to send you on a very importanterrand of my own. Wait a moment while I think it over. "

"Time out!" says I. 

Well say, I didn't know what was comin', he took so long makin' up hismind. But Mr. Robert ain't one of the kind to go off half cocked. He'sgot somethin' on his shoulders besides tailor's paddin', and when hesets the wheels to movin' you can gamble that he's gettin' somewhere. After awhile he slaps his knee and says:

"No, there isn't another person around the place who would know how togo about it. Torchy, I'm going to try you out!"

It wasn't anything like I'd ever been up against before. He hands me anexpress receipt and says he wants me to go over to Jersey City and getwhat that calls for without landin' in jail. 

"You'll see a bundle done up in burlap somewhere around the expressoffice, " says he, "a big bundle. It looks like a side of veal; but itisn't. It's a deer, one that I shot four days ago up north. Torchy, didyou know that it was illegal to shoot deer during certain months of theyear?"

"You can be pinched for shootin' craps any time, " says I. 

"Really?" says he. 

Then he goes on with his tale, givin' me all the partic'lars, so Iwouldn't make any batty moves. And say, they can think up some queerstunts, hangin' around the club of an afternoon and lookin' out atFifth-ave. Through the small end of a glass. This was one of them realclubby dreams. It started by Mr. Robert countin' himself in on a debatethat he didn't know the beginning of. 

"When they asked me if I could do it, I said, 'Of course I can, '" sayshe, "and then I asked what it was. "

The bunch had been gassin' about an old gun hangin' over the fireplace. It was one of these old-timers, like they tell about Daniel Boone'shavin', in the Nickel Libr'ies, the kind you load with a stove poker. Flintlocks--that's it! They was wonderin' if there was anyone left thatcould take a relic like that out in the woods and hit anything besidesthe atmosphere. And the first thing Mr. Robert knows he has been joshedinto bettin' a hatful of yellowbacks that he can take old Injun killerout and bring back enough deer meat to feed the crowd--and him knowin'no more about that sort of act than a one-legged man does about skatin'!They gives him two weeks to do it in. 

That wa'n't the worst of it, though, accordin' to him. They passes theword around until everyone that knows him is on the broad grin. The jokeis handed across billiard tables between shots, and is circulated aroundthe boxes at the opera. It's the best ever; for Mr. Robert has neverhunted anything livelier than a Welsh rabbit, after the show. 

He's a boy that likes to make good, though. He never makes a brag; buthe boxes up that old shootin' iron and drops out of sight. 'Way up inthe woods somewhere he digs up an old b'gosh artist that was brought upwith one of them guns in his hand, and he takes a private course. Afterhe's used up a keg of powder shootin' at tin cans they start out to findwhere the deers roost. They find 'em, too. Mr. Robert is so rattled thathe misses the one he aims at; but he bores a tunnel through another inthe next lot. 

Course, he thinks he's got a cinch then. He hustles to the nearest flagstation and spends eight dollars sendin' telegrams to the bunch, invitin' 'em to a venison feed at the club. Then he has his game sewedup neat in meal bags and expressed to John Doe, Jersey City. See howcute he was? He'd heard about the game laws by that time; so he lays hisplans to duck any trouble. But he hadn't counted on that gang tippin'off the Jersey game wardens, nor on their trailin' the baggage andexpress bundles with huntin' dogs. 

"The dogs had smelled it out just as I came in to claim it, " says he;"so all I could do was to keep my mouth closed, standing around andlooking foolish until I got tired and came away. And that, Torchy, isthe situation up to the present moment. My venison is under guard overin Jersey City, and if it isn't delivered at the club by six o'clockto-night I shall not only lose my bet, but have my life made miserablefrom cheap jokes for months to come. It occurred to me that if your witswere as bright as the hair that covers them, you might be able to helpme out. What do you think?"

"Chee!" says I, scratchin' me bonfire, "I guess I'm down the coal chute. I've rescued locked-in typewriter girls from fire escapes, and lied theboss out of a family row; but I never tried my hand at kidnappin' enoughmeat for a dinner party. How about buyin' off the game sleuth?"

"He has been bought by the other side, " says Mr. Robert. "He wouldn'tdare to sell them out. "

Well, I thunk some more thinks just as punky as that, and then wesettles it that I'm to hike over and take a squint, anyway. I gets himto give me a line on what kind of a looker the warden was, and he throwsme a couple of tens for campaign expenses. I was just stowin' away thegreen stuff as I goes through the outside office, and Piddie's eyebrowsgo up. 

"They're goin' to let me finish out the week, " says I. "Ain't they thegentle things?"

Then I skips out for the 23d-st. Boat, leavin' Piddie with his mouthopen, and Mr. Robert wrapped up with the idea that, some way or other, I'm goin' to talk that game cop into a dope dream and rescue the roast. 

But, say, I didn't need to look twice at that snoozer to see that noline of hot air I had in stock would soften him up. He had an undershotjaw, a pair of eyes that saw both sides of the street at once, and ahead like a choppin' block. He was sittin' right alongside of thatburlap bundle, waitin' to spring his tin badge on some one. 

"Do they send such things as that through without cratin'?" says I to aguy behind the chicken wire, jerkin' me thumb at Mr. Sleuth. "What's thelabel on him?"

"That's Mr. Hinkey Tolliver, special officer, " says he. "Better lookout or he'll break a hand grenade on that still alarm of yours. "

"Ah, back to the blotter!" says I. "Who gave you any license to makefunny cracks on my Mrs. Leslie Carter disguise?"

We swapped a few more like that, while I sizes up Hinkey, tryin' to mapout a way to brace him. But it was a losin' proposition. He has one ofthem eyes nailed to what I wanted to take away and the other trained onthe door, and you could tell by the way he held his jaw that nothin'short of an earthquake would jar him loose. 

It was too much for me. If it hadn't been that Mr. Robert had put it upto me so flat, I'd have quit then. But I couldn't lay down with just alook; so I takes a turn around into the passenger waitin' room, battin'my head for a new line. 

I guess it was kind of second sight that steers me over into the cornerwhere there is an A. D. T. Branch. I wa'n't lookin' for anyone I knew, seein' it's been so long since I wore the cap; but who should I pipeoff, sittin' on the call bench, but Hunch Leary! And, say, between thetime I'd give him the nod to come out, and his askin' how it was I'dshook the red stripe, I'd framed up the whole scheme. First I goes overto the girl under the blue bell and rings up Mr. Robert. 

"Hello, " says I, "this is Torchy. "

"Good!" says he. "Have you got it?"

"Got nothin'!" says I. "You must think I'm a writ of habeas corpus. Iwant to know who was the gent that most likely tipped off your wardenfriend. "

When I'd got that I asks the time of the next uptown boat, and makes adeal with one of them ferry hawks to back his chariot up near theexpress office door and be ready to make a swift move for the gangplank. 

Then me and Hunchy fakes up this little billy ducks to Mr. HinkeyTolliver, tellin' him to chase to the nearest 'phone and call up thegent that Mr. Robert had put me wise to. 

It was worse'n playin' a three-ball combination for the side pocket, andI holds my breath while Hunch pokes his book at him and waits to see ifthere's any answer. Tolliver, he reads it over two or three times, firstwith one eye and then the other. One minute I thought he was goin', andthe next he settles back like he'd made up his mind to balk. He squintsat the burlap package, and then at the message, and all of a sudden hemakes a break for the 'phone. 

He hadn't begun movin' before I was up to the window with my receipt, callin' for 'em to get a hustle on, as Mr. Doe had run out of veal andhad to have it in a hurry. Ever try to poke up one of them boxjugglers? They took their time about it--and me lookin' for troubleevery tick of the clock! But I got an O. K. On it after awhile, and fora quarter I hired a wagon helper to drag the bundle out and chuck itinto the hansom. Then I climbs in and we made the boat just as the bellrang. She was pullin' out of the slip when Tolliver rushes out about ascalm as a bulldog chasin' a tramp. 

"Say, " says the driver, climbin' down to take a look at the baggage, "who you got sewed in the sack!"

"Get on your perch!" says I. "Ain't you makin' extra money on this? Andwhen you fetch up at the club, do it like you was used to stoppin' atsuch places. "

It was a great ride that me and the deer meat had across town and upFifth-ave. I'd stopped once to put Mr. Robert next; so he was waitin'for me out in front of the club, wearin' a grin that was better'n abreakfast food ad. 

But that wa'n't anything to the look on Piddie when Mr. Robert shows upnext mornin' and pats me on the back like I was one of his old HastyPuddin' chums. 

"Piddie, " says I, "look what it is to be born handsome and lucky, all inone throw!"

CHAPTER III

MEETING UP WITH THE GREAT SKID

Next time you nabs me writin' a form sheet on any unknown, you can hangout the waste paper sign and send me to the scows. Look at the mess Imakes of this here Mallory business! Why, first off I has him billed fora Percy boy that had strayed into the general office from the drygoodsdistrict. He had a filin' job in the bond room, and when he drew hisenvelope on Saturdays it must have set the Corrugated Trust back for asmuch as twelve D. 

Course, I didn't pay no attention to him, until one noon I finds him inthe next chair at the dairy lunch. He's got his mug of half white andhalf black, and his two corned beef splits, with plenty of mustard, andhe's just squarin' off for a foodfest, when I squats down with two hunksof pie and all the cheese I could get at one grab. 

"Hello, Algy!" says I. "Where's the charlotte russe and the cup of tea?"

"Beg pardon, " says he; "were you speaking to me?"

"Sure, " says I. "You didn't think I was makin' that crack at thearmchair, did you? Maybe we ain't been introduced; but we're on the samepayroll. "

"Oh, yes, " says he, "I remember now. You're the--the----"

"Go on, say it, " says I. "I don't mind if it is red, and I lets anybodycall me Torchy that wants to, even Willies. "

"Well, now, that's nice of you, " says he, sidetrackin' a bite to look meover. Then he grins. 

Say, it was that open face movement that made me suspicious maybe hewa'n't one of the Algernon kind, after all. But he had most of thepoints, from the puff tie to the way he spoke. It wa'n't the hot potatodialect Piddie uses; but it leaned that way. If he'd been a real Willieboy, though, he'd gone up in the air, and maybe I'd got slapped on thewrist. His springin' that grin was a hunch for me to hold the decision. 

"How long you been keepin' Corrugated stocks from goin' below par?" saysI. 

That stuns him for a minute, and then a light breaks. He throws anothergrin. "Oh, about a year, " he says. 

"Chee!" says I. "And they ain't put you on the board of directors yet?"

"I've managed to keep off so far, " says he. 

"Get a lift every quarter, though, I suppose?" says I. 

"I'm getting the same salary I began with, if that's what you mean, "says he, tacklin' another sandwich that had got past the meatinspectors. 

"Yours must be fatter'n most of the Saturday prize packages they handout in the general office, or you wouldn't have kept satisfied so long, "says I. 

He thinks that over for awhile, like it was a new proposition, and thenhe says, quiet and easy, "I'm not at all sure, you see, that I amsatisfied. "

"Why not chuck it then and make another grab?" says I. "It's good lucksometimes to shake the bag. "

He swings his shoulders up at that, --and say, he's got a good pair, allright!--but he don't say a word. 

"Ain't married the job, have you?" says I. "Or have you lost yournerve?"

"Perhaps it's a lack of nerve, as you suggest, " says he, more as if hewas talkin' to himself than anything else. 

"Don't think you could connect with another, eh?" says I. 

He shakes his head. "I'm not exactly proud of the fact, " says he; "but Idon't mind telling you in confidence that it required the combinedefforts of my entire family and all my friends to get me into this job. "

"Honest?" says I. "Chee! They picked a pippin for you, didn't they?"

"It's a star, " says he. 

"So's a swift kick from the bottom of a well, " says I. 

With that I shakes off the pie crumbs and takes a chase up around theFlatiron, to watch the kids collectin' cigar coupons and take a look atthe folks from the goshfry-mighty belt shiverin' in the rubberneckbuggies. Say, I never feel quite so much to home in this burg as when Iwatch them jays from the one-night stands payin' their coin to seethings that I shut my eyes on every day. 

When I gets back on the gate I tries to figure out this Mallory gent;but I can't place him. He's no Willie, and he's no dope, I can see that. With his age and general get-up, though, he ought to be pullin' outfifty or so a week. What's he been at all this time?

I was just curious enough to stroll over and take a look at him. He hashis coat off, pluggin' away on the job and doin' the kind of work that Icould learn to play with any time I had a day off. Not that I'm lookin'for it. Bein' head office boy suits me down to the ground. That's bein'somethin', even if they do pay you off with a five and a one. But ifyou're a live one you'll get tipped as much more. And you don't havecold chills up the spine every time the boss lugs down an afterbreakfast grouch. 

Course, a duck like Mallory can't get in any such game; so he's got todig away at the filin' case and wear his last summer's suit untilChristmas. Diggin' and keepin' quiet seemed to be his only play. Just asthough he'd ever win any medals by the way he stacked papers away inlittle pasteboard boxes!

He wins somethin' else, though. One day the general manager rushes intoMallory's corner after somethin' he wanted in a hurry, and by the timehe'd found it he'd pied things from one end of the coop to the other. Mallory was just tryin' to straighten out the mess, when along comesPiddie, with that pointed nose of his in front. Piddie don't ask anyquestions; he throws a fit. Why, he had Mallory on the carpet for fortyminutes by the clock, givin' him the grand roast, and the only timeMallory opens up to tell him how it was he shuts him off with a, "Thatis sufficient, Mr. Mallory! I am here to get results, not excuses. Isthat quite clear?"

"Yes, sir, " says Mallory. 

Say, but he did it well! He looks that peanut headed snipe straight inthe eye all the time after that and takes what's comin' to him withoutturnin' a hair. It was "Yes, Mr. Piddie, " and "No, Mr. Piddie"; butnothin' else. And the cooler and politer he was, the wilder Piddie got. When I hears him tell Mallory that another such break will cost him hisjob, I was achin' to throw the letterpress at him and break him in two. I couldn't hardly wait for Mallory to shut the door before I let loose. 

"Say, Piddie, " says I, "if you don't think you'll sleep easy to-nightunless you give some one the bounce, why not fire me? Go on, now; I'llmake out a case for you. Tell 'em I said you howled around like a pupwith a sore ear. "

Piddie turns white and gives me the glassy eye--that's all. I couldn'ttease a fire out of him with a box of matches. 

But that didn't make up for the way he'd roughed Mallory. I was stillsore over it at closin' time; so I lays for Mallory and asks him why hedidn't risk the job and take a crack at Piddie's jaw. 

He just laughs. "Oh, " says he, "I couldn't pay him that compliment. "

Was that a joke, yes? Blamed if I could tell. Anyway, it wa'n't sense. And there's where I had the front to put it straight up to Mallory abouthis bein' stranded in a place where he had to take such pin jabbin' asthat. 

"Say, " says I, "is it hard luck, or a late start, or what?"

"I fancy a late start would cover it, " says he. 

"Not college?" says I. 

"That's it, " says he. 

"Aw, fudge!" says I. "Honest, I didn't take you for one of them rah-rahboys. Well, if it's that ails you, you're up against it. I don't wonderyou had to be jammed into a job with a flyin' wedge. Chee!"

I was sorry for him, though. Maybe it was somethin' he couldn't duck. Some of 'em I've known of couldn't. Oh, I've seen bunches of 'em, justturned out. Didn't we have more'n a dozen unloaded on us when me and Mr. Marshall was gettin' out the Sunday edition? And we didn't do a thing to'em, either!

But it's a tough deal, after puttin' in all that time dodgin' the foolkiller at some one else's expense, to be chucked into the grub game withnothin' but a lot of siss-boom yells for experience. I wouldn't havebelieved Mallory was that sort. Nice young feller, too. Never slung anyof his Greek at me, nor flashed his college pins. Seemed to kind of likechinnin' to me at lunch; so I let him. You know how you'll get togassin' and tellin' each other the story of your life. I lets out aboutBelmont Pepper and the minin' stocks he gave me, and Mallory drops hintsabout mother and sister, that was livin' off in Washington or somewherewith a brother that was in better luck. Mallory, he was doin' the hallbedroom act, livin' on that twelve per and keepin' out of sight ofeveryone he'd ever known until he'd made good. Guess he found it kind ofa lonesome deal. 

Once when I was extra flush I offers to blow him to a fam'ly circle seatat "The Bandit Queen"; but he says he thinks he'd better not go. 

"Plannin' to have a spin in your new car?" says I. 

"Hardly, " says he. 

"Well, how do you put in your off time, anyway?" says I. 

And say, whatcher think? His programme is to light up the gas stovereg'lar after dinner and fill his head full of truck out of the trademonthlies and Wall Street columns, postin' himself on Corrugatedbusiness. 

"Gettin' ready to give the old man a few private tips?" says I. 

"Not until he asks for them, " says he. 

"Then you've got lots of time, " says I. "But it's a punk way of enjoyin'yourself. "

Maybe it was thinkin' about what a dead slow time he was havin' thatgives me the cue to stir up that lovely mess, or perhaps it was becausethe thing was sprung on me so unexpected. It come one day when I wasbusy drawin' pictures of Piddie on the blotter. I hears a giggle, andsquints up to see a pair that looked as if they'd just broke away froman afternoon tea. He was a husky youth in a frock coat, with a face likea full moon and a voice that didn't call for any megaphone. The otherwas a her, and she was a bundle of tuttifrutti, the kind you seefloatin' by in sixty horsepowers, all veils and furs and eyes. 

"Hello, sonny, " says he, swingin' up to the brass gate, wearin' afour-inch grin. "Where's the Great Skid?"

"Give it up, " says I. "Have you tried the Zoo?"

"He-haw!" says he, with the stops all out and a forced draft on. "That'sa good one, that is! But we haven't much time and we're looking forSkid. Where do you keep him?"

"Say, " says I, "we've got a lot of freaks on tap; but we're just out ofSkids. Anything else do?"

Then she comes to the front. "Don't be such a silly, Dicky!" says she. "It isn't likely they call him that here. Tell the young man it's BertMallory we wish to see. "

"You're right, Sis, right as usual, " says Dick. "It's Mallory we'relooking for. "

"Oh!" says I. "Mister Mallory?"

"There now, Dicky!" says she, pokin' him with her elbow and touchin' offanother giggle. "Didn't I tell you?"

"He-haw!" says Dicky. "Mister Mallory, of course. "

But I didn't feel he-hawy a bit; for it was up to me to tow Mallory'sswell college chum and his sister in where the boy was jugglin' the filecases. And them lookin' for him to be sittin' in a swing chair with hisname painted big on the door! That was when I dug up my fool thought. 

"Cards!" says I. "I'll see if Mr. Mallory's got through consultin' withthe general manager. "

"Oh!" gurgles Sis. "Doesn't that sound business like, though? I supposeSkid--er--Mr. Mallory is quite a busy man, isn't he?"

"Busy, " says I. "Say, you don't think he has all of us around here toplay marbles, do you, miss?"

Sis, she gets mighty int'rested at that. "He's a very important man now, isn't he?" says she. 

"Chee, yes!" says I. "He's I-double-it around here. "

"Isn't that fine?" says Sis. "But I hope he can see us. "

"Oh, I'll fix that all right, " says I. 

With that I slides through two doors and into Mr. Robert's room. He'sstill out to lunch, of course, it bein' only about two o'clock; so Iunlocks the corridor door that he don't use and skips across into thegeneral offices. 

"Say, " says I to Mallory, "you're wanted in the boss's office. No, notthe old man's; Mr. Robert's. Skin into your coat and come along. "

Never fazes him a bit. He just hunches his shoulders, knocks the dustoff his hands, and trots after. When I gets him in there I tells him towait a minute, and then I goes out through the right way and lugs inDicky and sister. 

Was it a surprise party? Well, say! Dicky lets out a roar, makes aplunge for him, hammers him on the back, works the pump handle, andtalks a blue streak. 

"Well, Skiddy, old man, here we are!" says he. "Thought you'd given usthe shake for good, eh? But we heard you'd gone in with theCorrugated, --saw Blicky in Venice and he told us, --so when we cameashore we wired father to hold the car over one train for us while wehunted you up. Sis wouldn't let me come unless she could too. Here, Sis, it's your turn. Blaze ahead now and give the boy what you said youwould. I'll turn my back. "

I didn't, though. Was there any hangin' off about Sis? Not so you'dnotice it. She just steps up and makes a grab for Mallory and----Aw, say! One like that must be good for chapped lips. If I'm ever handed oneof them kind I won't wash it off for a month. It tickles Dicky most todeath. 

"He-haw!" says he, so's the window panes rattle. "She said she'd do it. And she did, didn't she, eh, Skid?"

Mallory couldn't prove an alibi. He was the worst rattled man I eversee, and as for blushin'--he got up a color like the lady heroine in abiff-bang drama. He acted as though he didn't know whether he wasloopin' the loops or having a dream that was too good to be true. Onceor twice he tried to unloosen some remarks; but Sis and Dicky was bothtalkin' to once and he never got a show. They was tellin' him how gladthey was to see him again, and what a great man he was, and how Sis wascomin' back to town next month for the rest of the season, and allthat--when right in the middle of it the door opens and in comes Mr. Robert. 

Say, I felt like a noon extra in a bunch of six o'clock editions. I'dballed things up lovely, I had! Why, the only times a general officehand ever gets a chance to stand on the Persian rug in the boss's officeis just before he gets the run or is boosted into a five-figure salary. And here I has a twelve-dollar man usin' it like a public receptionhall! It was what was goin' to happen to Mallory that gave me theshivers. 

"Torchy, " says Mr. Robert, "what's all this?"

"S-s-sh!" says I. "It's Old Home Day, and the lady is handin' outchoc'late creams. Wait up; maybe it'll be your turn next. "

"But, see here, I don't understand, " says he. "Who are these persons, and why----"

"Ah, say!" says I. "Ain't you got any sportin' blood? Besides, I don'tknow the answer myself. "

I could of kept that up just about one more round before I'd fellthrough a crack; but just as Mr. Robert was framin' up another conundrumDicky turns around and spots him. 

"Why, hello, Bob!" yells Dicky, as gentle as if he was hailin' someoneacross Broadway. "By Jove, though, I forgot all about you being in theCorrugated too! But of course you are. Sis and I just ran in a minute tolook up Skid. Good old Skid! Great boy, eh, Bob?"

Mr. Robert takes a look over by the window at Mallory, who wasn't seein'a thing but Sis and wasn't hearin' anything but what she was sayin'--andshe was sayin' a lot. 

"Is--is that Skid?" says Mr. Robert. 

"Oh, come along now, Bob, " says Dicky, pokin' him in the vest playful. "You don't mean to say you don't know Skid Mallory, the Great Skid, bestquarterback we ever turned out, the one that went through Harvard forforty-five yards, and that with a broken ankle? Don't know Skid? Why, say!"

"I take it all back, " says Mr. Robert. "Of course I know him; but not sowell as you do, Dicky. I wasn't one of the coaches, you know, and Ihaven't kept the run of the team for the last year or two. But I'm gladto see the Great Skid. How the deuce does he happen to be up here, though?"

"He-haw!" says Dicky. "That's rich, that is? Shows how much you know ofCorrugated affairs, Bob. Why, man alive, Skid's one of the chaps that'srunnin' your old gent's trust. This is his office you're in now. "

"Really!" says Mr. Robert. He takes another look at Mallory, who's deafand dumb and blind to everything but Sis, and then he turns for a goodhard look at me. 

I grins kind of foolish and nods. Then I jumps behind Dicky and beginsto wigwag over his shoulder for Mr. Robert to keep it up. I didn't knowwhether he would or not. I wa'n't sure but what he'd think I'd turnedbatty, by the motions I was goin' through; but he's a sport, Mr. Robertis. He didn't know what was on the card; but he takes a chance. 

So Dicky waltzes him over to the pair by the window, and makes Mr. Robert and Mallory acquainted, and jollies 'em both, and all three of'em talk football to Mallory, who blushes worse than ever and don'tknow which way to turn. They keep that up until Dicky pulls out hiswatch, grabs Sis by the arm, and hollers that they've got to make abreak for the Washington Limited. Sis is shakin' good-by with both of'em at once, when she thinks of somethin' funny. 

"Oh, Mr. Robert!" says she. "I want to know which of you is who here, don't you know. Is it you that works for Skid, or Skid that works foryou?"

"Chee!" thinks I. "That upsets the soup kettle. "

Mr. Robert looks at Mallory, and Mallory looks at him. There was nobreakin' away; for she has hold of a hand apiece. Both of 'em makes astart; but Mr. Robert gets the floor. "Why, " says he, "I guess we'reboth working for the Corrugated, only one of us works a little harderthan the other. "

"Ah!" says Sis, givin' Mallory a smile that was worth payin' money tosee. "I thought so. "

The next minute they makes a dash for an elevator goin' down, and thatpart of it was over. We'd worked the bluff all the way through, and Sishas lugged off the idea that Mallory was at the top of the bunch. 

But there was Mr. Robert, waitin' to talk Dutch to us. 

Mallory he starts in to say that he's sorry for seemin' so cheeky; butthat's about all he can say. 

"Ah, cheese it!" says I, buttin' in. "What do you know about it? It wasme put up the game, and if Mr. Robert had loafed another half an hour atthe club like he usually does, there wouldn't have been any mix up. Say, you leave this to me. "

Mallory didn't want to leave it like that; but Mr. Robert was holdin'the door open for him, so he couldn't do anything else. When we had itall to ourselves, the boss ranges me up in front of him for the court ofinquiry session. 

"Well?" says he, real solemn. 

I takes all that in and gives him the wink. "Say, " says I, "didn't Ihave my nerve with me, though?"

He kind of blinks at that; but it don't fetch him. 

"Who's Dicky, your whisperin' friend?" says I. 

"Nobody much, " says he. "His father's a Senator. "

"Well, say, now, " says I, "you didn't want me to chase a Senator's sonand a real swell girl like Sis off into a place like the general officereception room, did you! And wouldn't it have been a nice break if I'dlet out that we was smotherin' the Great Skid under a twelve-dollarjob?"

"Was that why you had the impudence to appropriate my office?" says he. 

"That was part of it, " says I. 

And that gives me an openin' to tell him the whole tale about Mallory, from the hall bedroom act to the way he'd been postin' himself. 

"You think he's a valuable man, do you?" says Mr. Robert. 

"Valuable!" says I. "Why, he's all the goods. What if he did learn totalk Greek once? He's forgettin' it, ain't he? And look at the way hestands up to trouble! Don't that show there's good stuff in him?"

"Well, " says he, "what would you suggest?"

"Ah, say!" says I. "Couldn't you give a guess? Why, if I was you I'd fixit so that when Sis comes back to town she wouldn't find him on no kid'sjob. I'd give him a show to get his name painted on a door somewhere. "

"Torchy, " says he, punchin' the button for his secretary, "I shouldn'twonder if we did. "

CHAPTER IV

FROSTING THE PROFESS

Chee! but I'm gettin' to be useful! Course, I don't figure out no awfulslump in Corrugated stocks if I should get pettish some day and tell 'emthey'd got to find a new office boy. That ain't the kind of shreddedthought I'm feedin' on. I fit into a lot of places besides the chairbehind the brass gate. Why, I have to put on a sub. Three or four timesa week, while I'm spreadin' myself out all over the lot. 

It all come of their makin' me special messenger to the boss; for sinceold Mr. Ellins has been laid up with toothache in his knee jointsthey've been chasin' me up to the Fift'-ave. Ranch, with mail, and blankbonds to be signed, and such truck. And that's how I came to get sothick with Marjorie. 

I was waitin' in the front hall, pipin' off the gorgerifousness, whensome one pushes in through the draperies L. U. E. And I'm discovered. And, say, she was a magnum, all right! You know the sort of pippins theypick out to hang up by a string in the fruit store window? Well, thatwas her style. Big? She'd fit close in a Morris chair! And she didn'tlook more'n eighteen or nineteen, either. For all her width, she wasbuilt on good lines, and if she'd been divided up right there'd beenenough for a pair of as good lookers as you'd want to see. 

"O-o-o-o!" says she as she comes in. "See who's here!"

I never says a word, but just twists my toes around the chair legs andlooks into my hat. Not that I'm any afraid of girls; but I wa'n'tfeelin' so much to home there as I do in some places, and I didn't wantto make any break. But she wouldn't let it go at that. 

"O-o-o-o!" says she again, and as I squints up at her I sees the reg-larcut-up looks just bubblin' out. 

"G'wan!" says I. "I ain't no curiosity. "

"Oh, it is Torchy then, isn't it?" says she. 

"You don't think this is a wig I'm wearin', do you?" says I. That's whatI got to expect with hair like mine. The minute my description's givenout everybody's on. 

She giggles and says that Brother Robert's been telling her about me. "I'm Marjorie, you know, " says she. 

"Well, " says I, lookin' her over careful, "you'll do. "

I meant it. Mr. Robert's only fair sized; but old man Ellins is a whale, and I was thinkin' of him when I said that Marjorie was up tospecifications. She seems to think I've handed out a lump ofbutterscotch, though, and we gets real chatty. 

I don't know what kind of fairy yarns Mr. Robert's been tearin' off athome about me; but from the start she treats me like I was one of thefam'ly. And Marjorie was just as nice as she was heavy. She didn't tryto carry any dog; but just blazes ahead and spiels out the talk. I getnext to the fact that she's just home from one of them swell boardin'schools, where they pump French and music into young lady plutesses at adollar a minute, and throw in lessons on how to say "Home, François!" tothe chaffeur. This was some kind of a vacation Marjorie was havin', andshe was doin' her best to make every hour count. 

Knowin' all that helped me to keep from bein' so much jarred by her nextmove. It was a couple of days after, on a Wednesday, and we'd got realwell acquainted, when Marjorie spots me as I was headin' back for theoffice after leavin' some things for the boss. 

"Torchy, " says she, "where's Robert? What was he doing when you left?"

"Give it up, " says I. "And, anyway, I ain't supposed to know. "

"I'll bet you do, though, " says she. "Couldn't you guess?"

"If I did, " says I, "I'd guess that he'd just made a run of ten ortwelve and was pushin' up the buttons on the string. "

"I don't know what that means, " says she. 

"Well, " says I, "it means that maybe he's playin' billiards at theclub. "

"Oh, darn!" says she, real wicked. 

It turns out that Brother Robert has said he'd take sister to thematinée that afternoon, and the date has got clean by him. She wants togo the worst way, too. Mother wasn't handy, Aunty May had the icebag onher head, and there wasn't anyone else within reach. Accordin' to therules, there'd got to be some one. 

"Torchy, " says she, "I don't see why you couldn't take me, as well asanyone else. "

"Thanks, " says I, "but I don't want to earn my release that way. I'vegot 'em trained down to the office so they'll stand for a lot; but meringin' in a matinée durin' business hours would sure break the spell. "

"Oh, pshaw!" says she. "I can fix that part of it, " and off she goes, upto see puppah. 

If she'd come back and said the old man was havin' a fit on the floor, Iwouldn't have been any surprised. But, say, Marjorie must have a pullaccordin' to her weight; for inside of four minutes she comes skippin'down the front stairs, makin' the gas globes rattle and jigglin' thepictures on the wall. 

"It's all right, " says she. "Father says you're to telephone Mr. Piddiethat you won't be back, and then you're to see that I get to the theaterand home again without being kidnapped. I'll be ready in ten minutes. "

It was a shame, though, that I missed seein' Piddie when he got theword. All I could hear was a gasp, like he'd been butted just above thebelt, and then he hung up the receiver. I expect I'll send him to thenerve repair shop some day. 

But you should have seen me and Marjorie sittin' on the broadclothcushions and bein' carted down to the theater. I swelled up all I could;but at that I wa'n't much more'n a dot on the landscape. There's timeswhen I feel real chesty and can hear my feet make a noise when I walk;but this wa'n't one of 'em. And when it came to paradin' down the middlerow after the usher, with Marjorie puffin' behind, I felt like one ofthem dinky little river tugs towin' a floatin' grain elevator. I waslookin' for the house to let loose a "Ha-ha!" It didn't, though. Theyexpect most anything to drift into them afternoon shows. 

"Say, Miss Ellins, " says I, after she'd squeezed herself into her place, pinned her feather lid up in front of her, and opened the choc'latecreams, "I've been in such a dream I didn't look at the outside boardsor get a programme. What's doin'--variety or a tumpy-tump show?"

"Why, " says she, "this is Shakespeare's 'Romeo and Juliet. '"

"Z-z-z-zing!" says I. "Stung again! Who unloaded the tickets on you?"

What d'ye think, though? She'd picked this show out all by herself, putup real money for it--and that with two Injun drammers runnin' right onBroadway! Said she'd seen the same thing half a dozen times before, too. Aw, say! I couldn't get next to any such batty move as that. And when Ithought how this was my first plunge into a two-dollar chair, it made mesore. 

"Wake me up when it's all over, " says I, and settles back for a realrest. 

There's where I hung out the wrong number. That wa'n't any dope drammerat all. Course, Shakespeare don't know how to ring in burnin' flathouses, or mill explosions, or any real thrillers like that; but there'ssomethin' doin' in his pieces. There was in this one, anyway. It wasquite some time before I got any glimmer of what it was all about; butbefore the first act was over I was sittin' up, all right. 

"What do you think of her?" says Marjorie. 

"The one with the Maxine Elliott eyes and the gushy voice?" says I. "Oh, I don't call her such a much; but if Romeo wants her as bad as he sayshe does, I hope it won't be a case of 'My pa won't let me. ' But, say, what for did they kill off the only real live one they had, that Mr. Cuteo? Say, he was all to the good, and it was a shame to have himpunctured so quick!"

The parts I liked, though, wa'n't the ones that Marjorie got herselfworked up over. It was the balcony scene she'd come for. When they gotto that she grips the seat in front and glues her eyes on them two thatwas swappin' the long, lingerin' breakaway tackles, and every once inawhile she heaves up a sigh like cuttin' out an airbrake. 

After it was all over, and most everybody that counted had swallowedknockout drops, Marjorie gives me a sidelight on what's been runnin'through her head. 

"I could do that, " says she. "I just know I could!"

"Do what?" says I. 

"Why, Juliet's part. I've been studying it for months, ever since ourclass gave it at school. They wouldn't give me a part then; but just youwait! I'll show them!"

"You're joshin', " says I. 

Honest, I didn't think she meant it. She didn't say any more about it, and all the way home she was as quiet as a bale of hay. 

That was the last I see of Marjorie for near a week. Then, one afternoonas I was goin' through Tinpan Alley on an errand, I sees the Ellinscarriage pull up, and out she comes. 

Now, say, I knew in a minute that wa'n't any place for Marjorie. Thebuildin' she goes into is one of them old five-story brownstones, wherethey sell wigs in the basement, costumes on the first floor, have atheatrical agency on the second, and give voice culture and such stuffabove. Among the other signs was one that read, "School of Dramatic Art, Room 9, Fifth Floor. "

"Chee!" says I. "You don't suppose Marjorie's got it that bad, do you?"

First off I thinks I'll chase along and forget I'd seen anything at all. Then I thinks of what Mr. Robert would say if he knew, and I stops. Sure, I hadn't been called to play any Buttinsky part; but somehow Ididn't feel right about stayin' out, so the first thing I knows I'mtrailin' up the stairs. There wa'n't any need to do the sleuth act afterMarjorie got started. Anyone on the floor could have heard it; for shewas spoutin' the Juliet lines like a carriage caller, and whenever shemade a rush to the footlights the floor beams creaked. It was enough todrag a laugh out of a hearse driver. And guess what the guy was tellin'her!

"Great!" says he. "You're almost as good as Mary Anderson was at herbest, and as for Marlowe, she can't touch you. Excellent, that lastspeech! What fire, what expression, what talent! Why, young woman, allyou need is a Broadway production to sweep 'em off their feet! I'llarrange it for you. It means money, of course; but after the firstcost--fame, nothing but fame!"

Now, how was that for a hot-air blast? Wouldn't that make a short icecrop if you let it loose up the Hudson?

But it wa'n't what he said, so much as how he was sayin' it, that got meint'rested. There's some voices you don't have to hear but once toremember a lifetime, an this was one of that kind. It was one of thesehusky baritones, like what does the coonsongs for the punky records theyput into the music boxes at the penny arcades. That was as near as Icould map it for a minute or so while I was tryin' to throw up thepicture of the man behind the voice. And, then it hits me--ProfessorBooth McCallum!

Oh, skincho, what a front! Why, when I was on the Sunday editor's doorthe professor used to show up reg'lar with some new scheme for winnin'space. Talk about your self-acting press agents! He had the bunch shovedto the curb. All he had to bank on was a ten-minute turn at a 14th-st. Continuous house, fillin' in between the trained pig and the stronglady; but he wanted as much type set about himself as if he'd been DaveWarfield. 

When he couldn't get next to anybody else, he used to give me theearache tellin' of the times when he played stock in one of Daly's roadcomp'nies, and how he had to quit because John Drew was jealous of him. Then he'd leave his stuff with me and I'd promise to sneak it into thedramatic notes the first time I found the forms unlocked. 

And to think of a hamfatter like McCallum, who's come back from Buffaloon a brake beam so often that he always sleeps with one arm crookedaround the bedpost, havin' the nerve to call himself a school ofdramatic art! Course, I didn't think Marjorie was so easy as to fall fora fake like that. She must be stringin' him. 

But the minute I see her come out I knew she'd swallowed the hook. I'ddropped back into the far end of the hall, where it was dark; but as shewalks under the skylight I sees the pleased look on her face, like shewas havin' a view of her lithographs on all the gold frames in thesubway. I waits until McCallum shuts himself in to throw bouquets at hispicture in the glass, and then I slips down just in time to catchMarjorie as she's climbin' into the carriage. 

"Is this the lady that's entered for the heavyweight Julietchampionship?" says I, tryin' to break the news to her gentle. 

It shook her up a good deal, just the same. Her face gets the color ofan auction flag, and she jounces down on the seat in a way that makesthe springs flat out like bed slats. 

"Why, Torchy!" says she. "Where did you come from, and what do youmean?"

"Oh, I've taken out a butt-in license, " says I. "I'm on, Miss Ellins. Iwa'n't invited to the rehearsal; but I was there. "

"Listening outside?" says she. 

"Uh-huh, " says I. 

"Oh, Torchy!" says she. "Did you hear how lovely the professor talked ofthe way I did it?"

"About your havin' Julia Marlowe sewed in a sack? Sure thing, " says I. 

"But you mustn't tell anyone, " says she. 

"I wouldn't want the job, " says I. "I can draw a diagram of the riotthere'll be when mommer and popper get the bulletin. "

"I don't care, " says Marjorie. "They never want me to do anything. It'salways, 'Oh, Marjorie, you're too big. ' In summer I can't go bathingbecause they say I'm a sight in a bathing suit, and in winter they won'tlet me skate because they're afraid I'll break through. The boys won'tdance with me, and the girls shut me out of basketball. But ProfessorMcCallum has been perfectly dear. He said right away that I wasn't a bittoo stout to be an actress. I'm not, either! Why, I weigh less than twohundred, with my jacket off; honest, I do! He liked my voice, too. Andthis was only my third lesson. Anyway, I'd just love to play Juliet, andI mean to do it!"

Well, say, that was a proposition to give you a headache. I couldn't gorunnin' to Mr. Robert or the boss with any tales about Miss Marjorie. That ain't what I'm on the payroll for. But I couldn't let McCallum playa friend of mine for a good thing; so I just opens up on him. 

"Why, " says I, "he's a never was. Maybe he used to carry a spear, orplay double-up parts on the haymow circuit; but that's about all. He's acommon, everyday, free lunch frisker, Mac is. I used to know all abouthim when I was in the newspaper business; so this is a straight steer. He's just tollin' you along because he's had a dream that if he gets youreal stuck on yourself you'll come across with two or three thousand forexpenses and will be too tender-hearted to squeal afterwards. That's hisgame, and all you've got to do to queer it is to send him ten and saythe folks object. "

That's about the way I put it, drawin' it as strong as I knew how. DoesMarjorie see the point and heave up any thanks about my bein' her truefriend? Not her! She calls me impid'nt and says she's got a good mind tobox my ears right there. So it was up to me to calm her down. 

"All right, Miss Marjorie, " says I. "If I've said anything I can'tprove, I'll take it back; but if you'll follow me upstairs again for aminute, and wait outside in the hall, I'll have a little talk with theprofessor that'll settle it one way or the other. "

No, she wouldn't do it, and she didn't want me ever to speak to heragain. I was too fresh, I was!

"Then I guess I'll have to send Mr. Robert up to engage seats for thatJuliet stab of yours, " says I, makin' a play to move off. 

It was a bluff; but it fetched her. She was willin' to do 'most anythingif I wouldn't tell Brother Robert; so back we goes up to the actingschool on the top floor. I left her leanin' up against the wall, rightnear the open transom, and makes a break for McCallum. 

He was right there, too. He's one of these short-legged, ham-faced gentsthat's almost as tall when he's sittin' down as when he's standin' up. Aneck that takes a No. 18 turn-down collar goes with that. He has hishands in his pockets, an Egyptian joss-stick in his mouth, and he'sstraddlin' up and down, as satisfied with himself as if he'd just casheda ticket on the right horse. 

"Hello, profess!" says I. "I spots your name on the sign; so I takes thefoot elevator up to see how you're comin' on. "

"Quite right, son, " says he, "quite right. "

He didn't need any whizz plane then to beat the Curtiss record. He wassoarin', soarin, ' and too busy with it to take much notice of me. 

"You ain't been round to the office lately, " says I, lettin' on I wasstill with the paper. 

"No, son, " says he; "but you can inform your dramatic man down therethat if he wants an important piece of news he'd better come and seeme, " and with that he taps his chest like he was stunnin' the gallery. 

"Thought you looked like happy days, professor, " says I. "What's itlike? You ain't been takin' on any swell pupils, have you?"

"Haven't I, though?" says he, stickin' his thumbs in his vest pocketsand comin' up on his toes as if he was goin' to crow. "Haven't I?"

"Say, Mac, " says I confidential, "that wasn't her I saw drivin' off inthe private buggy as I come in, was it--the wide one?"

"That was her, " says he, "the new Juliet. "

"Juliet!" says I. "Aw, you're kiddin'! Honest, professor, do Julietscome as heavy as that?"

Then he winks. I could see he was just bustin' to let it out to someone, and here was his chance. "Son, " says he, "when young ladies havethe price to pay for such luxuries as the cultivation of a dramatictalent that doesn't exist, size doesn't count. I've coached a Hamletwith lop ears and a pug nose, a Lady of Lyons that had a face you couldchop wood with, and I guess I'm not going to draw the line at a Julietwhose father is president of a trust, even if she is something of a babyelephant!"

I heard the wall crack at that, and I suspected Marjorie'd got a shock. 

"Can she act any?" says I. 

"Act!" says he. "It's enough to make the angels weep to see her try. Imagine, my boy, a one hundred and thirty-pound Romeo trying to hug hisway around a two hundred and fifty-pound Juliet! Why, we'd have to propup the balcony with a structural iron pillar and----"

It was too bad to have the flow stopped, for he was enjoyin' himself;but just then the door was jerked open and in rushes Marjorie, her eyesblazin', her face white, and so mad she couldn't speak. As she looms upin the door, lookin' bigger'n ever, she was diggin' somethin' out of herhandbag, somethin' shiny. It wa'n't anything but a silver purse; butthe professor must have thought it was somethin' else, for he gives onlyone look. Then he throws up both hands, hollers "Don't shoot, don'tshoot!" and makes a dive under a desk in the corner. The hole under thatdesk wa'n't built for divin' through; so McCallum wedges himself inthere like a cork in a bottle, wavin' his legs in the air, and callin'for help. 

"There!" says Marjorie, throwin' some bills on the floor. "That's forwhat I owe you, you horrid old fraud! Baby elephant, am I? Oh, youwretch!" With that she goes out and bangs the door behind her. 

It was all me and the cornet artist next door could do to separateMcCallum from the desk, and even when we worked him loose he didn't wantto come out. When we'd got him into a chair, and he'd felt himself allover careful, he says to me:

"Torchy, how--how many times did she shoot?"

And when I gets back to the office Mr. Robert wants to know why I didn'tlet 'em know I was goin' all the way to Washington after them stamps. 

"Chee!" says I, "but you're gettin' restless! Maybe you think I oughtertravel by pneumatic tube? Huh!"

CHAPTER V

WHERE MILDRED GOT NEXT

There's nothin' wins out surer in this town of New York than puttin' upa good front. If you've got the fur coat and the goggles on your cap, you can walk or ride on a transfer, and folks'll take it as a cinch thatyour bubble's back in the garage bein' fitted with a new set ofhundred-dollar tires. Why, just the smell of benzine on a suit you've hadout to the cleaners will give 'em the dream, if you throw your chest outright. 

Look at the way Mildred has us goin'. Maybe you don't know aboutMildred. Say, I'll bet if you met up with her on Fift'-ave. You'd holdyour breath till she got by and wonder whether she was a Vanderbilt orone of the Goulds! But she floats into the Corrugated Trust offices moreor less reg'lar every day, just the same, and does her little stunt onthe typewriter at so much per. Honest, when I sees her sailin' inmornin's, with all her swell drygoods on, I'm just as liable as not tohalf break my neck openin' the door for her. That's what I did thefirst time I saw her, when I was new on the gate. 

"This way, lady, " says I, and when she pikes right by and heads for thecloakroom I almost has a fit. 

Maybe there's some hot ones down around Broad-st. That drives tobusiness in cabs and pounds the keys durin' office hours; but for agenuine, mercerized near silk we stand ready to back Mildred against thefield. She'd have an expert guessin', Mildred would. "Miss Morgan" isthe way she figures on the payroll; but that never sounded rich enoughfor me. 

It was the first week I was there that I begun to get a line on Mildred. One day the old man calls me in and hands me a letter that's been put onhis desk for him to sign. He was plum color, Old Hickory was, so mad hecould have chewed a file. 

"Boy, " says he, "take this into the main office, find out who M. M. Is, and bring her in here. Anybody that can spell in that fashion I want totake a good look at. "

Think of the shock I gets when Piddie tells me them letters stand forMildred Morgan. 

"Lady, " says I, "I hates to say it, but the boss is waitin' to hand outa call-down to you. Don't you go to gettin' scared stiff, though; for thefirst cussword he lets go of I'll chuck a chair at him. "

The smile I gets for that would have been worth half a dozen jobs. I waslookin' for her to go white and begin bitin' her upper lip, like theyusually does; but she ain't that kind--not on your nameplate! She justpeels off the sleeve protectors, sets her side combs in firm, gives herface a dab or so with the rabbit's foot, and starts along after me, withthat new antelope walk of hers, as easy and pleased as if she'd beenasked to come to the front and pour tea. 

And she's got the costume the part calls for, mind you! They're the onlyclothes of the kind I ever see wore into this buildin'. I couldn't saywhat they was made of; but I know they're the button-up-the-back style, and that they stick to her as if they'd been put on by a paper-hanger. Iguess you'd call Mildred a 1911 model. Anyway, she seems to bulge in theright places; though how anyone so long-waisted as that can getthemselves into such a rig without callin' for help is somethin' Ipasses up. 

Well, I tows her into the boss's office, feelin' as mean as a welsher. The old man has settled back in his chair, a cigar pointin' out of onecorner of his mouth, and a letter in one fist. While I'm gone he's runacross another, worse than the first, by the marks he's made on it, andhe's got to the point where a thermometer slipped down the back of hisneck would go off like a cap pistol. 

"See here!" says he, growlin' it out grouchy, without lookin' up. "I'dlike to have you run your eye over that, and then tell me where inthunder you learned to spell such s-u-t-c-h!"

"Why, " says she, "I always spell it that way; don't you?"

"Don't I!" roars the old man. "Do you take me for a----"

Then he looks up. Well, say, you talk about your fadin' sunsets! Nothin'I ever see beat the way the boss lost his crushed raspb'rry face tintand bleached out salmon pink. "Why--why--er--are you sure this is someof your work, young woman?"

"Oh yes, indeed, " says she, kind of gurgly and aristocratic and as sweetas pie, "that's mine. But you've made so many horrid marks on it that Ishall have to do it all over again. "

"Yes, " says he, "I'm afraid that's so. But we have a way here, you know, of spelling explicit with a C instead of an S. "

"Ruhlly?" says she. "How odd!"

"It's one of our fads, too, " goes on the old man, "not to spellCorrugated g-a-i-t-e-d. We've simplified it by leaving out the I. Ofcourse, we don't expect you to learn all these things at once; but pick'em up as fast as you can. That--that's all. Thank you very much, Miss--er----What's the name?"

"Morgan, " says she, "Mildred Morgan. "

"Ah, " says the boss, "very much obliged, Mil--er--Miss Morgan, " andbefore I could get to the door he has hopped up and opened it for her. 

Then he turns around and sees me standin' there grinnin'. "Torchy, " sayshe, "are there any more like that around the shop?"

"None that I ever saw, " says I. 

"Thank Heaven!" says he. "Send in one of the other kind. "

"Want a real ripe one?" says I. 

He does. And say, we got plenty of them. I picks out one with washed-outeyes, front teeth that sticks out, and no shape to speak of. She couldmake the typewriter do a double shuffle, though, and there couldn'tanybody around the place sling out words faster'n she could take 'emdown on her pad, or any she couldn't spell right the first crack. Theold man fixes it that she's to go over Mildred's work with an ink eraserbefore it comes to him. 

If Mildred knew about it, she never let on. Nothin' much bothered her. She'd come sailin' in any old time durin' the forenoon, lookin' ashan'some as a florist's window and actin' as if she never heard of sucha thing as a time clock. Piddie tackles her only once. 

"Miss Morgan, " says he, "business begins here at nine o'clock promptly. "

"How absurd!" says Mildred, and Piddie don't get over the shock for anhour. 

About the second week all hands took a vote that Mildred wa'n't much ofa success as a typewriter artist and that she ought to be fired. The oldman put it up to Mr. Robert, and Mr. Robert shoves it back at him. Thenthey both loaded it onto Piddie and cleared out. When they come backthey asks him if he's done it. 

"Well, " says he, colorin' up, "not exactly. "

Come to make him own up, he'd gone at the job so easy and had been sopolite about it that Miss Morgan has time to head him off with a strikefor more pay, and before he can back out he's promised to see what canbe done. 

"Couldn't you talk to her, Mr. Ellins?" says he. 

"Great Scott, no!" says the boss. "Tell her she's raised, and let it goat that. "

For awhile, though, Mildred cost the firm a lot more money than hersalary, if you reckon up as worth anything the time a lot of two-by-fourink-slingers spent makin' goo-goo eyes at her. It was a losin' game allaround. Mildred didn't seem to be pinin' for any such honors, and afterthey got well acquainted with the fact that she wouldn't stand for lunchinvites, or bids to the theater, and didn't want to be walked home withby a perfect gent, they let up on that foolishness. It leaves 'em dizzy, though. There's pinheads on our gen'ral office staff who believes theynever missed breakin' a heart before, and they can't figure out justwhat's the matter with the combination. 

There was others, too, that couldn't place Mildred, until some one hintsthat maybe she's a sure enough swell whose folks had gone broke, andthat she's picked out a typewriter job as a sort of trapdoor that wouldlet her down out of sight and keep the meal ticket renewed. 

After that Mildred is as much of a myst'ry as why folks live inBrooklyn. We was all wise to the main proposition, though, and it wasfunny to hear 'em all sayin' that they'd known it right along. Kind ofset us up some, too, havin' a real ex-ice cutter like her right on thefloor with us. All the other key pounders, that had been givin' her thestary eye at first, flops around and uses the sugar shaker. There wasn'tanything they wouldn't do for her, and they takes turns holdin' herjacket, so's to get a peek at the trademark on the inside of the collar. 

But Piddie is the most pleased of any. He thinks he's right to homeamong carriage folks, and every time she comes near he bows and scrapesand begins to shoot off the "Aw, I'm suah's" and the "Don'tcher know's, "until you'd think he was talkin' through a mouthful of hot breakfastfood. 

"Chee!" says I to him. "You act like you thought this was a five o'clocktea. "

"I trust, " says he, "I know a lady when I see one, and that I know howto treat her too. "

"That's so, " says I. "Too bad you wa'n't on the stage, Piddie, in one ofthem 'Me lu'd, the carriage waits' parts. "

That gives me a cue, and the next time she sends me for supplies I saysto him, "Mr. Piddie, " says I, "the Lady Mildred presents her complimentsand says she wants a new paste brush. "

Gets him wild, that does; so I sticks to it. The others hears it andpicks it up too, and she wa'n't called anything but Lady Mildred fromthat on. First thing I knew I'd said it to her face; but she never somuch as looks surprised. You'd thought she'd been called Lady Mildredall her life. 

"Who knows?" says Piddie. "Perhaps she has. "

Honest, we was makin' up all kinds of pipe dreams about her, andbelievin' 'em as we went along. There was no findin' out from her whatwas so and what she wa'n't. She never gets real chummy with anyone; butkeeps us jollied along about so much. It was dead easy. All she had todo was to throw a smile our way, and we was tickled for a week. Wasn'tanyone around the place needed so much waitin' on as her; but no oneever minds. Gen'rally there was two or three on the jump for her, andothers willin' to be. 

Course, that don't include Mr. Robert. He seems to think Lady Mildredwas some kind of a joke; but, then, I expect he sees so many stunnerslike her every night, knockin' around at dinner parties and such, thathe gets tired lookin' at 'em. I'd been carryin' it against him, though, and maybe that's what put it into my nut to get so gay with Louie. 

Louie's the gent in the leather leggin's and north-pole outfit thatcomes around after Mr. Robert every night with the machine. Say, it's areg'lar rollin' bay window, that car of Mr. Robert's! I wouldn't mindhavin' one of that kind taggin' around after me. But if I was pickin' ashover I'd pass Louie by. He wears his nose too high in the air and istoo friendly with himself to suit me. There's a lot of them honk-honkboys just like him; but he's the only one I ever has a chance to getreal confidential with. It's like this:

Mr. Robert says to me, "Torchy, if I'm not back by five o'clock, you maytell Louie when he comes that he needn't wait. "

"Sure thing, " says I. 

Then, when Mr. Robert don't show up at closin' time, I chases down tothe curb and sings out, "Hey, Frenchy, you tip huntin' ex-waiter! It'sback to the garage for yours! And say! After you've run your old coalcart into the shed you can go let yourself out as a sign for a furstore. Ah, that's right. Nothin' doin' here. Skidoo!"

Always makes me feel better after I've handed Louie one like that--hisears turns such a lovely pink, specially when there's a crowd around. When I has time to chew it over I can think up some beauts. But thisnight I was goin' to tell you about I didn't have any warnin' at all. Mr. Robert was right in the middle of a heart-to-heart talk with aPittsburg man, when five o'clock comes and the word is sent up thatLouie has came. 

"Tell him to come back in about half an hour, " says Mr. Robert to me. 

"Repeat at five-thirt', " says I, sliding out for the elevator. 

It was an elegant afternoon, --for pneumonia, --slush and rain and ice-boxzephyrs gallopin' up and down the street. Louie didn't look as though hewas enjoyin' it any too much, for all his furs. I was just turnin' up mycollar for a dash across the sidewalk and back, when out comes LadyMildred in a raincoat that was a dream and carryin' a silver-handledumbrella such as you don't find on the bargain counters. And then Igets my funny thought. 

"Carriage for you, miss, " says I, grabbin' the rain tent and hoistin'it. "Right this way, miss. "

Say, she's a dead game sport, Mildred is. Never stopped to ask any foolquestions; but prances right out to the car, just as though she'dexpected it to be there. 

"Take the lady home, and be back after Mr. Robert in half an hour, Louie, " says I, jerkin' open the door and handin' her in. 

It was about then that I almost had heart failure. Stowed away in thefurther corner, as comf'table as if he was at the club, was Benny. Iforget what the rest of his name is; Mr. Robert never calls him anythingbut Benny. They're chums from way back, --travel in the same push, liveon the same block, and has the same ideas about killin' time. But that'sas far as the twin description goes. Benny looks and acts about as muchlike Mr. Robert as a cream puff looks like a ham sandwich. All Bennyever does is put on more fat and grow more cushions on the back of hisneck. He's about five foot three, both ways, one of these rolypoly boys, with dimples all over him, pink and white cheeks, and baby-blue eyes. Oh, he's cute, Benny is; but the bashfullest forty-four fat that evercarried a cane, a reg'lar Mr. Shy Ann kind of a duck. He has a lispwhen he talks too, and that makes him seem cuter'n ever. 

About twice a week he drifts up to the brass gate and says to me, "Thay, thonny, whereth Bob?" Makes my mouth pucker up like I'd been suckin' alemon, just to hear him. And if he sees one of the girls lookin'sideways at him he'll dodge behind a post. 

There he was, though, and there was Mildred pilin' in alongside of him. She didn't give any sign of backin' out, and it was too late for me tohedge; so I ups and does the honors. 

"Mr. Benny, " says I, "Miss Morgan. "

"Oh, I--I thay, " splutters Benny, makin' a move to bolt, "perhapth I'dbetter----"

"Forget it!" says I, slammin' the door. "Ding, ding, Louie! Get a moveon! If you don't fetch back here by five-thirt' you lose your job. See?"

Frenchy didn't need any urgin', though, and he has the wheels goin'round in no time at all. I watched the car for a couple of blocks anddidn't see anything of Benny jumpin' out of the window; so I reckonsthat he's too scared to make the break. I had a picture of him, squeezin' himself up against the side of the tonneau, lookin' at histhumbs, and turnin' all kinds of colors. 

"If it don't give him apoplexy, maybe it'll do him good, " thinks I. 

It was funny while it lasted; but when I thinks of what Mr. Robert'llsay when the tale is doped out to him. I has a chill. First off Ithought I'd go up and write out my resignation; but then I remembers howlong it is since I've had the sport of bein' fired, and I makes up mymind to see the thing through. 

I was lookin' to be called up on the carpet first thing next mornin', but it don't come. Mr. Robert never says a word all day long, nor thenext, and by that time the thing was gettin' on my nerves. Then Bennybobs up, as usual. I has my eye peeled from the minute he opens thedoor. He don't look warlike or anything; but you never can tell aboutthese fat men, so when he hits the gate I dodges behind the watercooler. 

"Wha--w'ath the matter, thonny?" says he. 

"G'wan!" says I. 

"Ithn't Bob in?" says he. 

"Go on in and tell Mr. Robert, if you want to, " says I; "but don't lookfor any openin' to sit on me. No pancake act for mine!"

He just grins at that; but goes on into the office without makin' asingle pass at me. Course, I was sure the riot act was due inside of anhour. But never a word. Nor Mildred don't have anything to say, either. It was like waitin' for a blast that don't go off. 

Things went on that way for a couple of weeks, and I was forgettin'about it, when Piddie tells me one mornin' that Mildred's up and quitand nobody knows why. About an hour after that Mr. Robert sends for me. 

"Torchy, " says he, "I'm tracing out a mystery, and as you seem to knowabout everything that's going on, I'm going to ask you to help me out. "

"Ah, say, " says I, "w'at's the use stringin' out the agony? Benny'ssquealed, ain't he?"

"No, " says Mr. Robert. "That's the point. Benny hasn't. All I've beenable to get out of him is that a short time ago he met a very charmingyoung woman--in my car. "

"That's right, " says I. "It was me put her in. "

"Ah!" says Mr. Robert. "Now we're getting somewhere. "

"Oh, you've hit the trail, " says I. 

"Well, " says he, "who was she?"

"Why, " says I, "the Lady Mildred. "

"Whe-e-e-ew!" says Mr. Robert, through his front teeth. "Not the onethat spells such with a T?"

"Ah, chee!" says I. "What's the odds how she spells, so long as she'sgot Lillian Russell in the back row? I didn't know your fat friend wasin the car, anyway, and I thinks Frenchy might as well be cartin' herhome in the rain as blockin' traffic on some side street. So I justloads her in and gives Louie the word. She never knew but what you hadsense enough to do it yourself. Course, it was a fresh play for me tomake; but I'll stand for it, and if Benny's feelin's was hurt, or yourswas, you got an elegant show to take it out on me. Come on! Get out thecan and the string!"

But you can't hustle Mr. Robert along that way. When he gets hisprogramme laid out there ain't any use to try any broad jumps. He wantsto know all about Mildred, who she is, where she comes from, and what'sher class. 

"You can take it from me, " says I, "that she's a star. She's been up inthe top bunch too, I guess; anyone can see that. But so long as she'sjumped the job, where's the sense in lookin' up her pedigree now?"

"Well, " says Mr. Robert, "I am still more or less interested. You see, she and Benny are to be married next month. "

"Honest?" says I. 

"I have it from Benny himself, " says he. 

"Did Benny tell you how he worked up the nerve to make such a swift jobof it?" says I. 

He hadn't. Near as I could make out, Benny hadn't told much of anything. 

"Well, " says I, "he's picked a winner, ain't he?"

"That, " says Mr. Robert, "is something I mean to find out. "

And say, if you ever see that jaw of Mr. Robert's, you'll know he did. And she wa'n't an Astor or a Gould in disguise. She was just plain MissMorgan, that had come on with her mother from Kansas City, or Omaha, orsomewhere out there; put in six or eight months in a swell dressmaker'sshop; learned how to make herself the kind of clothes that look likeready money; shuffled off her corn-belt accent; and then broke into thetypewritin' game while she waited for somethin' better to turn up. 

"And Benny was it, wa'n't he?" says I to Mr. Robert. 

"With your help, Torchy, " says he, "it appears that he was. "

"Well, " says I, "he needed the push, all right, didn't he!"

Fired? Me? Ah, quit your kiddin'! Why, they're tickled to death now, allof 'em. They're beginnin' to find out that Mildred's quite a girl, evenif she ain't got a lot of fat-wad folks back of her. 

And say, w'atcher think! Benny comes around here the other day wearin' abroad grin, lugs me out to his tailor's to have me taped for a wholeoutfit of glad rags, and says I've got to be one of the ushers at theweddin'. Wouldn't that sting you?

CHAPTER VI

SHUNTING BROTHER BILL

Don't talk to me about weddin's! Sure, I've been mixed up in one. Maybethere was orange blossoms and so on; but all that's handed me is a bunchof lemon buds. Not that I'm carryin' any grouch. I might have knownbetter'n to butt into any such doin's. Long as I stick to bein' headoffice boy, I knows who's what, and what's which, and anyone that thinksthey can give me the double cross is welcome to a try; but when it comesto sittin' in at a wilt-thou fest I'm a reg'lar Cousin Zeke from thered-mitten belt. 

Maybe I wouldn't have done so bad, though, if it hadn't been for AuntLaura. And say, mark it up on the bulletin right here, she ain't myaunt! She's Benny's. I was tellin' you how I loaded Mildred, our ladytypewriter that was, into Mr. Robert's car alongside of Bashful Benny, and what came of it, wa'n't I! And how Benny's so grateful that he saysI've got to be one of the ushers?

Well, it was all goin' lovely, and the gen'ral office force has chippedin and bought 'em a swell weddin' present, and Benny's tailor has builtme a pair of striped pants and a John Drew coat, and Mr. Mallory's beencoachin' me how to act when I chase the folks into their seats, andPiddie's been loadin' me up with polite conversation to fire offwhenever I gets a show, and everything's as gay around the shop asthough the directors had voted an extra dividend--when I'm stacked upagainst Aunt Laura and it begins to cloud in the west. 

Aunt Laura is all Benny can show up for a fam'ly, and after you got toknow her you couldn't blame him for wantin' to start in on a new deal. She's one of them narrow-eyed old girls that can look through a keyholewithout turnin' her head, and can dig up more suspicions in a minutethan most folks would in a month. I'll bet if the angel Gabriel shouldshow up and send in his card she'd make him prove who he was by playin'the horn. 

It was a cinch she didn't mistake me for no angel, when Mr. Robert sendsme up there to do an errand for Benny. I wa'n't callin' for no aunts, anyway, but just leavin' a note for Wilson--that's Benny's man--whenthis sharp-nosed old party comes rubberin' into the front hall. 

"Marie, " says she to the girl, "what boy is this? Where did he comefrom? Who does he want to see? Don't you dare leave him alone for aminute!"

That last touch gets me in the short ribs. "Ah, say, " says I, "do I looklike a hallrack artist?"

"That'll do, young man!" says she. "You may not be as bad as you look;but I have my doubts. "

"Same to you, ma'am, and many of 'em, " says I. 

"Mercy!" says she. "What impertinence!"

"Please, ma'am, " says the girl, "Mr. Ellins sent him up, and I----"

"Oh!" says the old one. Then she gives me another look. "Boy, " says she, "what's your name!"

"Torehy, " says I. "Ain't it a snug fit?"

"Oh!" says she again, and with the soft pedal on. "You're Torchy, areyou?"

"There ain't any gettin' away from a name like that, " says I. 

"Why, " says she, doin' her best to call up a smile, "what a bright youngman you are!"

"Specially on top, " says I, throwin' a wink at Marie. 

"Ye-es, " says Aunt Laura, "I always did think that copper-red shade ofhair was real pretty. Come right in, Torchy, while Marie gets you somecake and a cup of tea. "

"I ain't turnin' the shoulder to any cake, " says I; "but you can cut outthe tea. "

Well, say, inside of three minutes from the start I'm planted comf'tablein one of the libr'y chairs, eatin' frosted cake with both hands, whileMarie's off hustlin' up lemonade and fancy crackers. 

Course, it was somethin' of a shock, such a quick shift as that. I ain'tgot a glimmer as to what Aunt Laura's end of the game was; but so longas the home-made pastry holds out I was as good as nailed to the spot. She seems to get a heap of satisfaction watchin' me eat, almost as muchas though she was feedin' ground glass to her best enemy. You've seenthat kind, that you can stand well enough until they begin to grin atyou. Aunt Laura's bluff at smilin' was enough to make a cat get its backup, and you could tell she didn't really mean it, as well as if she'dsaid, "Now I'm goin' to give you an imitation of somebody that'spleased. "

And all the time she was dealin' out a line of talk that was as smoothas wet asphalt. Most of it was hot air that she said Benny'd been givin'to her about me, and how sweet Mildred thought I was. 

That should have been my cue; but I was too busy with the cake. 

"Miss Morgan is such a dear girl, isn't she?" says Aunt Laura. 

"Uh-huh, " says I, pokin' in some frostin' that had lodged on theoutside. 

"You are quite well acquainted with her, aren't you?" says she. 

"Um-m-m-m, " says I. 

"Let's see, " goes on Aunt Laura, "what is it she did at the office!"

"Chickety-click, ding-g-g!" says I, makin' motions with my fingers. 

"Oh, typewriting!" says she. "But I suppose she was very skillful atit?"

"Oh, she was a bird!" says I. 

See what was happenin'? I was bein' pumped. It was more'n that too. Everything I knew about Mildred, and a lot I guessed at, was emptied outof me like she was usin' one of these vacuum cleaners on my head. When Igets to telling about the place out West where Mildred lived before sheand her maw hit New York, Aunt Laura jumps up. 

"Oh, I know some people who lived there once, " says she. "I wonder ifany of them knew Miss Morgan?"

With that she picks up the desk 'phone and gives a call. Did they knowany Miss Morgans out there? Yes, Mildred Morgan. Really! A brother too?How interesting! Who was he, and what was he doing last? What! In theState penitentiary! That was enough for Aunt Laura. She hangs up thereceiver and says to me:

"Boy, when you get back to the office tell Mr. Robert I want to see him. Come, you'd better be going now. "

It was a case of "Here's your hat--what's your hurry!"

"Say, " says I, "don't you go to swallowin' any tale about the LadyMildred havin' a brother that's a crook. There's lots of Morgans besidesher and J. P. "

But all Aunt Laura does is hold the door open for me; so I beats it, feelin' about as chipper as though I'd been turnin' State's evidence. The more I thinks of it, the cheaper I feels. Here I'd been playin'myself for Mr. Foxy Cute, and had let an old lemon squeezer like AuntLaura wring me dry!

Just what she's got up her sleeve about the penitentiary business, Ididn't know; but I wa'n't long in findin' out. Next day there was allkinds of a row. Aunt Laura has looked up the invitation list for theweddin', and, sure enough, among the also rans was a Mr. William Morgan, with a State penitentiary address. With that, and what she'd heard overthe 'phone, Aunt Laura makes out a strong case. Was she goin' to standby and see her only nephew marry into a family of jailbirds? Not if shecould help it! So she calls in Mr. Robert and puts the layout beforehim. 

It looks like a bad mess, with Mildred on the toboggan; for Mr. Roberthas said he'd see what could be done. He don't promise anything; butBenny's always been such a willin' performer that he guesses maybe hecan talk him out of wantin' to get married. He didn't know Benny, though. These short, fat, dimpled boys are just the ones to fool you, and when it came to tellin' Benny about Brother Bill, that was doin'time, Benny works his lips at high speed sayin' that he don't believeit. 

"Anyway, " says Benny, "it ithn't Bill I'm marrying. I don't give a cuthfor him. I'd juth ath thoon marry Mildred if her whole doothed familywath in jail. "

"That settles it, Benny, " says Mr. Robert. "If that's the way you feel. I'll stand by you. "

Maybe Aunt Laura wa'n't wild, though, when she finds she can't block thegame. I was handlin' the office switchboard the afternoon she calls Mr. Robert up to give him the rake-over, and the old girl warms up the wiresuntil she near has the lightnin' arresters out of business. It comes outtoo that she's sore on Benny's bein' married because she sees the finishof her steady job as boss of the house on the avenue. She can't queerMr. Robert though. 

"Benny seems to have a clear idea as to just whom he wants to marry, "says he, "and that's enough for me. If Miss Morgan has a brother in thepenitentiary, and Benny doesn't mind, I'm sure I don't. I've known lotsof fellows who wished their brothers-in-law were in the same place. Anyway, he'll not trouble us by showing up at the wedding, even if shedid send him an invitation. "

That's the kind of a sport Mr. Robert is. He's dead game, and whenyou've got him for a friend you'll know who to send for if you shouldever get run in. So we goes along gettin' ready for the weddin' same'sif nothin's happened. It's billed for a church hitch; but there ain'tbeen any advertisin' done, so they don't expect any crowd. Look whenthey has it too--right at lunch time!

"Chee!" says I to Mr. Robert, who's running the thing, "you must beplayin' for a frost. Now if you'd hire one of them Third-ave. Halls andband, you might give 'em somethin' of a send-off; but it'll be hard totell this racket from one of these noonday prayin' bees they has down inthe wholesale crock'ry district. "

Mr. Robert says that Benny bein' so bashful, and Mildred not knowin'many folks on East, they wanted to make it as quiet as they could. 

"It'll have a pantomime show beat to death on quiet, " says I. "Put me onthe door, will you, so's I can keep awake joshin' the sidewalk cop?"

Mr. Robert says he thinks that'll be a good place for me, as they ain'tgoin' to let anyone in without a ticket and I'm used to shuntin' cranks. But say, I'm so rattled when I get inside of that suit they sent aroundfor me to wear that I don't know whether I'm goin' up or comin' down. Honest, that coat made me feel like I was wearin' a dress. I didn't mindthe striped pants, --they was all to the good, --but them skirts flappin'around my knees was the limit. 

Think I had the face to spring that outfit on the folks at the boardin'house? Never in a year! Why, some of them Lizzie girls rangin' the blockwould have guyed me out of the borough. I just folds the thing insideout over my arm, like it was some one's overcoat I was takin' around tohave a button shifted, and when I gets to the church I slides up intothe gallery and makes a quick change. Mr. Robert looks me over and saysno one would guess it was me. 

"I'm hopin' they don't, " says I. 

But as soon as the carriages begun comin' and I gets busy callin' forthe seat checks, I forgets how I looks and stops huntin' for some placeto stow my hands. It was a cinch job. There was only a few lady butt-insthat had strayed over from the shoppin' district and smelled out a freeshow. 

"We're intimate friends of the bride, " says a pair of 'em; "but we'veforgotten our tickets. "

"That's good, but musty. Butt out, please, " says I. 

Chee! but I ain't used up so much politeness since I can remember! Itwas wearin' them clothes did it, I guess. 

Well, I was gettin' to feel real gay, for most everyone that was due wasinside, and I hadn't made any breaks to speak of, and it was near timefor the Lady Mildred to be floatin' in, when I pipes off a tall, husky-lookin' gent, with a funny black lid and an umbrella tucked underone arm, gawpin' up at the sign on the church. 

"Tourist from Punk Hollow lookin' for the Flatiron Buildin', " says I tomyself; but the next minute he comes meanderin' up the steps, fishin' acard out of his pocket. You can bet I plants myself in the door andcalls for credentials!

But, say, he had the goods. There was the ticket, all right, with thename wrote on it, and it didn't need but one squint at the pasteboardfor me to break into a cold sweat. It wa'n't anybody else but Mr. William Morgan!

"Say, " says I, as hoarse as a huckster, "are you Brother Bill?"

"Why, " says he, kind of surprised, but not half so stunned as I thoughthe'd be, --"why, I suppose I am. "

You wouldn't have guessed it. Not that he didn't look the brother part;for he did. He went Mildred two or three inches better in height, and hehad snappy black eyes and black hair like hers. The points that goeswith a striped suit and the lock step was missin', though. But how yougoin' to tell, in these times when our toniest fatwads is sittin' aroundthe mahogany votin' to raise the price of chewin' gum to-day, andgettin' a free haircut to-morrow? There wa'n't any time for me to standthere guessin' whether he'd been pardoned, or had slid down the rainpipe. Somethin' had to be done, and done quick. 

"Dodge in here and wait a minute, " says I. "There's some word been leftfor you. "

With that I sneaks down the side aisle and into the little cloakroom, where Mr. Robert was keepin' Benny's mind off'n what was comin' to himby makin' him count the geranium leaves in the carpet. 

"Mr. Robert, " says I, luggin' him off to one side, "you want to give uppredictin' the future. Bill's come!"

"What Bill?" says he. 

"The one from the rock pile, Brother Bill, " says I. 

"That's lovely!" says he. 

"It's all of that, " says I. 

"I hope he's not wearing his uniform still, " says Mr. Robert. 

"Not on the outside, " says I. "He looks like he'd pinched a minister'sMonday suit somewhere. But it ain't the way he looks that's worryin' me;it's what he's liable to do any minute to put the show on the blink. "

"That's so, Torchy, " says he. "Can't we get him out of the way somehow?"

"It's a tough proposition, " says I; "but if you'll put on a sub for meat the door, and give me leave to make any play that I happens to thinkof, I'll tackle it. "

"Good!" says Mr. Robert. "And I'll make it worth a hundred to you tokeep him away from here until it's all over. "

"I'm on the job, " says I. 

As I skips back I grabs my hat out from under a rear seat and makesstraight for Brother Bill. "Come on, " says I. "She's waitin' for younow. We've got just half an hour to do it in. "

Bill, he looks sort of jarred and reluctant; but I has him by the armand is chasin' him down the steps before he can ask any dippy questions. First off I thought of runnin' him up the avenue until he's cleanwinded; but I see by the way he strikes out that it would take morelungs than I've got to do that. 

There was a lot of weddin' cabs and such waitin' round the corner, though; so I steers him into the first one that has the apron up, jumpsin after him, shoves up the door in the roof, and sings out:

"Beat it! This ain't any dream carnival you're hired for!"

"What number?" says the bone thumper. 

For about two shakes I was up against it, and then the only place Icould think of was Benny's house; so I give him that, and off we goes. 

"But I say, young man, " says Brother Bill, "I came on to go to thewedding. "

"Sure, " says I; "that'll be all right too. Didn't I tell you there wassome word left for you?"

"Yes, " says he, "I believe you did. Also you said something about herwaiting----"

"Right again, " says I. "She'll be tickled to death to see you too. "

"Yes; but the wedding?" says he. 

"That'll be there when we get back--maybe, " says I. "You came on kindof unexpected, eh?"

"Yes, " says he. "I didn't think I could get away at first; but I managedit. "

"How'd you get out?" says I. "Was it a clean quit, or a littlevacation?"

"Why--er--why, " says he, --"yes, it was a--er--little vacation, as yousay. "

"Chee!" thinks I. "The nerve of him! Wonder if he sawed the bars, orsneaked out in a packin' case?" But, say, I couldn't put it to himstraight. When I gets these bashful fits on I ain't any use. 

"How long you been in?" says I. 

"In?" says he. "Oh, I see! About five years. "

"Honest?" says I. 

Then I had another modest spell that won't let me ask him whether he'dbeen put away for givin' rebates, or grabbin' for graft. I knew it musthave been somethin' respectable like that. Anyone could see he wa'n'tone of your strong arms or till friskers. 

I was just wishin' I knew how to work the force pump like Aunt Laura, when we pulls up at the horse block, and it was up to me to think ofsome new move. 

"She's here, is she?" says Mr. William. 

"You bet!" says I, wondering who he thought I meant. And then I getsthat funny feelin' I gen'rally has when I takes the high jump. "Comeon, " says I. "We'll give her a surprise. "

It wa'n't anything else. I knew she'd be to home, 'cause I'd heard shewas too grouchy to go to the weddin' or have anything to do with it; sowhen Marie let us in I throws a tall bluff and says for her to tell AuntLaura I've brought some one she wants to see very partic'lar. 

"Why, " says Mr. Morgan, "there's been some mistake, hasn't there! I knowno such person. Why should she wish to see me?"

"Sh-h-h-h!" says I. "Maybe she'll feed you frosted cake. It's one of hertricks. "

She didn't, though. She looked about as smilin' as a dill pickle whenshe showed up, and she opened the ball by askin' what I meant, bringin'strangers there. 

"Well, " says I, "you've been askin' a lot about him lately; so I thoughtI'd lug him around. This is Brother Bill. "

"What!" says she, squealin' it out like I'd said the house was afire. "Not the brother of that--that Morgan girl?"

"Ask him, " says I. "You're a star at that. "

Then I takes a peek at Bill. And say, I was almost sorry I'd done it. For a party that'd just broke jail, he could stand the least I eversaw. He looks as mixed up and helpless as a lady that's took a seat inthe smokin' car by mistake. I'd have helped him out then if I could havethought how. It was too late, though, and Aunt Laura was no quitter. 

"How long is it, " says she, jerkin' her head back and throwin' a lookout of her narrow eyes that must have gone clear through him, "since yougot out of the State penitentiary?"

"Why--why--er--er----" begins Brother Bill. 

Then he has the biggest stroke of luck that ever came his way; for Mariepushes in with the silver plate and a card on it. 

"Thank goodness!" says Aunt Laura, lookin' at the card. "The very personI need! Ask Dr. Wackhorn to step in here. "

I thought he must be a germ chaser; but it was just a minister, a solid, prosperous lookin' old gent, with white billboards and a meat safe onhim like a ten-dollar Teddy bear. He looks at Brother Bill, and Billlooks at him. 

"Why, my dear William!" sings out the Doc, rushin' over with the gladhand out. 

In two minutes it's all over. Dr. Wackhorn has introduced Bill as hisex-assistant, who's gone West and got himself a job as chaplain in aState prison, and Aunt Laura loses her breath tryin' to apologize toboth of 'em at once. Think of that! We'd been playin' him for all kindsof a crook, and here he was a sure enough minister!

Well, I gets him back to the church just in time for the last curtain, so he can see what a stunner Mildred was in her canopy-top outfit. He'sall right, Brother Bill is. Never gives me any call-down for shuntin'him off the way I did and makin' him miss most of the show. As I says tohim afterward:

"Bill, " says I, "that was one on me. But we did throw the hook into AuntLaura some! What?"

CHAPTER VII

KEEPING TABS ON PIDDIE

Say, I thought I knew Piddie. If anybody'd asked me to pick a party forthe Honest John act from among the crowd we got around the CorrugatedTrust here, I'd made J. Hemmingway Piddie my one best bet. He's beenwith the concern ever since Old Hickory Ellins flim-flammed his partnersout of their share of the business and took out a New Jersey charteredpermit that allowed him to practice grand larceny. 

If Piddie hadn't been a pinhead, he'd had his name on the board ofdirectors years ago. But there ain't no use tryin' to make parlorcomp'ny out of kitchen help; so Piddie's just trailed along, bein' asuseful as he knew how, and workin' up from ten a week to one fifty amonth, just as satisfied as if he was gettin' his per cent. Of theprofits. 

What he does around the shop wouldn't turn anyone gray-headed; but hemakes the most of it. He swells up more over orderin' a few officesupplies than Mr. Robert would about signin' a million-dollar contract, and the way he keeps watch of the towels and soap and spring water you'dthink our stock was fallin' below par, 'stead of payin' nine per cent, on common. Gen'rally Piddie don't handle anything but petty cash; butonce in awhile, when no one else is handy, they chuck something big hisway, and he never lets up until everyone knows all about it. You cantell how chesty he feels, just by his strut. 

Well, there'd been a big rush on, and they was usin' Piddie more or lessfrequent, so I was gettin' used to his makin' a noise like a balloon, when one mornin' he come turkeyin' out to the brass gate and says to me:

"Torchy, call up 0079 Broad and get the opening on Blitzen. "

"Sure, " says I. "And if it touches seven-eighths don't you want tounload a couple of thousand shares?"

"When I have any further orders, " says he, puffin' out his face, "youwill get them!"

"Oh, slush!" says I. "Don't play so rough, Piddie. "

I was onto him, all right. I've seen these hot-air plungers before. Theyfollow up a stock for weeks, and buy and sell in six figures, and reckonup how they've hit the market for great chunks--but it's all under theirlids. You can't spend pipe dreams, if you win; and if you lose, itdon't shrink the size of your really truly roll. It's almost assatisfyin' as walkin by the back door of a bakery when you're hungry. That kind of game is about Piddie's size, too. All it calls for isplenty of imagination, and he's got that by the bale. I was kind of gladto see him enjoyin' himself so innocent, and now and then I'd help alongthe excitement. 

"Heard about how Morgan's tryin' to get hold of Blitzen?" I'd say, andPiddie would prick up his ears like a fox-terrier sightin' a rat. 

"Who told you?" Piddie'd ask. 

"Why, " I'd say, "I got it straight from a delicatessen man that lives onthe same block with a man that runs a hot dog cart in John-st. Don'twant anything closer'n that, do you!"

Then Piddie'd look kind of foolish, and go off and call down some onegood and hard, just to relieve his feelin's. 

First thing I knew, though, Piddie was havin' star-chamber sessions witha seedy-lookin' piker that wore an actor's overcoat and a brunettecollar that looked like it had been wished onto his neck about lastThanksgivin'. They'd get together in a corner of the reception room andwhisper away for half an hour on a stretch. If it hadn't been Piddie, I'd put it down for a hard-luck tale with a swift touch for a curtain;but no one that ever took a second look at Piddie would ever wastetheir time tryin' a touch on him. So I guessed the gent was a bucketshoptout who was tryin' to interest Piddie in some kind of a deal. 

Still, I couldn't get any picture of Piddie takin' a chance with realmoney. It wa'n't until I seen him walkin' around stary-eyed one day, andgettin' nervous by the minute, that I could believe he's really beenrung in. He was goin' through all the motions, though, of a man that'sshoved everything, win or lose, on the red, and it was a circus to keeptabs on him. He makes a bluff at bein' awful busy with the billbook; buthe couldn't stay at the desk more'n three minutes at a spell. Inside ofan hour I counted four times that he washed his hands and six drinks ofwater that he had. 

"You'll be damp enough to need wringin' out, if you keep that up, " saysI. 

"Keep what up?" says he. Honest, he was so rattled he didn't knowwhether he was usin' the roller towel or runnin' over the ticker tape. Half an hour before lunchtime he skips out and leaves word with me thatmaybe he'll be back late. 

"All right, " says I. "If the boss calls for you I'll tell him he'll haveto shut down the shop until you blow in again. "

Maybe you've seen symptoms like that in a hired man. It gen'rally meansthat there's somethin' doin' in ponies or margins, and that next paydayis goin' to seem a long ways off. If I'd been asked to give a guess, Ishould have put it as about two hundred bucks that Piddie had throwninto the market. Anyway, it wa'n't enough to knock the props out ofcall-money quotations; so I was lettin' Piddie do all the worryin'. 

He didn't show back at twelve-thirty, nor at twelve-forty-five. Some oneelse did, though. She was a nice little lady, one of the smooth-haired, big-eyed kind, as soft talkin' and as gentle actin' as the heroine in"No Weddin' Cake for Her'n, " just before she gets to the weepy scenes. You could see by the punky mill'nery and the last season's drygoods thatshe'd just drifted in from Mortgagehurst, New Jersey. The little snoozershe has by the hand was a cute one, though. When he gets a glimpse of mysunset top piece he sings out:

"O-o-o-o, mama! Burny, burn!"

"Why, Hemmingway!" says she. "I am surprised. Naughty, naughty!"

"Don't worry, lady, " says I. "The kid's got it dead right--it's one ofthem kind. "

Then I wets my finger and shows him how it'll go "S-z-z!" when I touchit off. That gets a laugh out of little Hemmingway, and in a minutewe're all good friends. 

She's Mrs. Piddie, of course, and she's a brick. Say, how is it thesetwo-by-fours can pull out such good ones so often? Why, if she'd beengot up accordin' to this year's models, and could have thrown the frontshe ought to, she'd have been fit for a first-tier box at the grandop'ra. 

"Chee!" thinks I. "Did she pick Piddie in the dark?"

She'd come in to drag him out shoppin' and hypnotize him into loosenin'up. It was a case of gettin' things for little Hemmingway. 

"Me, I go have new s'oes, an' new coat wif pockets too, " says he. 

Say, they wins me, kids like that do. There's some I ain't got any usefor, the kind brought up in hotels and boardin' houses that learn toplay to the gallery before they can feed themselves, and others I couldname; but clean, grinnin' youngsters, with big eyes that take ineverything, they're good to have around. And, little Hemmy was a star. Igot so int'rested showin' him things in the office that I clean forgotabout Piddie and what he was up to. 

"He will be back soon, won't he?" says Mrs. Piddie. 

Now if you give me time I can slick up an answer so it'll sound like thetruth and mean something else; but as an offhand liar I'm a frost. Somehow I always has to swaller somethin' before I can push out a colddope. Course, I knew he'd got to be back before long; but I see rightoff that this wa'n't any day for a fam'ly reunion. Piddle wa'n't goin'to be any too sociable by dinner time that night, 'less'n he'd hit upthe bucketshop, which the chances was against. So it was my turn to makea foxy play. 

"He's due here before long, that's a fact, " says I, "but there's notellin'. You see, there's a big deal on, and Mr. Piddie's gone downtown, and----"

"Oh!" says Mrs. Piddle, her eyes shinin'. "Then he has some importantbusiness engagement?"

You couldn't help seein' how she had it framed up, --the whole CorrugatedTrust and half of Wall Street holdin' its breath while hubby, J. Hemmingway Piddie, Esq. , worked his giant intellect for the good of thecountry. 

"That's it, " says I. "I couldn't say pos'tive that he'd be as late asfour o'clock; but----"

"Oh! then we'll not wait, " says she, "Come, Hemmingway, we must gohome. "

"Don't I det my new s'oes?" says Hemmy. 

There was a proposition for you! The kid was runnin' true to form andstickin' to the main line. No side issues for him! Pop might be a bigman, and all that; but his size didn't cut much ice alongside of thenew-shoes prospect. Things was beginnin' to look squally, and Mrs. Piddie's mouth corners was saggin' some, when I has a thought. 

"Hold on, " says I. "Maybe he's left a note or something for you. "

See what it is to have a little wad stowed away in the southwest cornerof your jeans? I slips through into the main office, gets one of thetypewriter girls to address an envelope to Mrs. Piddie, jams a sawbuckinto it, and comes out smilin'. 

"Maybe this'll do as well as Pop himself, " says I. "Feels like it hadlong green in it, " and the last I heard of little Hemmy he was tellin'the elevator man about the "new s'oes" that was comin' to him. 

"It's a fool way to lend out coin, " thinks I; "but what's the diff? Thatkid's got his hopes set on bein' shod to-day, and Piddie's bound to makegood sometime. "

Piddie didn't look it, though, when he drifts in about one-thirty. Ifhe'd had a load on his mind earlier in the day, he'd got somethin' morenow. Just sittin' at the desk doin' nothin made the dew come out on hisnoble brow like it was the middle of August. He was too much of a wreckto stand any joshin'; so I let him alone, not even tellin' him about thefam'ly visit. 

The first thing I knows he comes over to me, his jaw set firmer'n Iever see it shut before, and a kind of shifty look in his eyes. He handsme a letter and a package. 

"Torchy, " says he, "take these down to that address just as soon as youcan. You've got to go quick. Understand?"

"Fourth speed, advanced spark, that's me!" says I, grabbin' my hat andcoat. "Free track for the Piddie special! Honk, honk!" and I jams him upagainst the letterpress as I makes a rush for the door. 

When I gets into the subway I sizes up the stuff I'm carryin'. Well say, it ain't often I gets real curious; but this was one of them times. Istarted in by rollin' a pencil under the envelope flap while the gum wasmoist. Not that I'd made up my mind to rubber; but just so's I could ifI took the notion. And, sure enough, I got the notion, or it got me. 

Chee! I near slid off the rattan seat when I reads that note. Guess Imust have sat there, starin' bug-eyed and lookin' batty, from 14th toWall. Do you know what that mush-head of a Piddie was at? He was givin'an order to bolster up Blitzen by buyin' up to a hundred thousandshares, and in the package was a bunch of gilt-edged securities to coverthe margins. 

Now wouldn't that jiggle the grapes on sister's new lid? Piddie, anarrow-gauge, dime-pinchin' ink-slinger, doin' the bull act like he wasa sooty plute from Pittsburg! That's what comes of swallowin' theget-rich-fast bug. 

Well, when I gets out at the Street I didn't have any programme planned. First I strolls down to the number on the letter and takes a look at thebuildin'. That was enough. There was some good names on the halldirectory; but most of 'em was little, two-room, fly-by-night firms, with a party 'phone for a private wire and a mail-order list boughtoff'm patent medicine concerns. The people Piddie was doin' businesswith was that kind. 

Next I takes a walk around into Broad-st. , where the mounted cops keepthe big-wind bunch roped in so's they can't break loose and pinch thedoorknobs off the Subtreasury. The ear-muff brigade was lettin'themselves out in fine style, tradin' in Ground Hog bonds, Hoboken gas, Moonshine preferred, and a whole lot of other ten-cent shares, asearnest as if they was under cover and biddin' on Standard Oil firsts. 

While I was lookin' 'em over, wonderin' what to do next, I spots AbeyWinowski on the fringe of the push. And say, it wa'n't so long ago thatAbey was wearin' sky-blue pants and a Postal shield, trottin' out withmessages from District Ten. But here he is, with a checked ulster and afive-dollar hat, writin' figures on a pad. 

"Hello, Motzie!" says I. "How long since they lets the likes of youinside the ropes?"

"Hello, Torchy!" says he. "Got any orders?"

"I'm lined with 'em, " says I. "What's good?"

"Blitzen, " says he. "It's on the seesaw; but'll fetch fifty. "

"Ain't it a wildcat?" says I. 

"Just from the menagerie, " says he. "Goin' to take a dollar flyer?"

"Guess I'll see what my brokers has to say first, " says I. 

With that I goes around to a little joint I knows of, where they has aboard for unlisted stocks, and I sets back and watches the curvesBlitzen was makin'. First she'd jump four or five points, and then she'dsettle back heavy. The Curb was playin' tag with it; that was all, sofar as I could see. Nice lot of Hungry Jakes to feed withint'rest-bearin' securities!

About fifteen minutes before the market closed I quit and moseyed alonguptown, just killin' time and tryin' to figure out what ought to bedone. Course, I didn't have any idea of playin' private detective andshowin' Piddie up to Mr. Robert, --that's out of my line, --but I didn'tlike the scheme of just chuckin' the bonds back at him and let him getaway with any bluff about my interferin' with something I didn'tunderstand at all. Besides, if the returns showed that he'd have won onthe deal, what was to hinder his tryin' the same trick again next timehe got the chance? That wouldn't been a fair shake for the firm. 

Say, I worked my thinker overtime that trip; but I couldn't dig up athing that was worth savin' from the scrap basket, and when I strolledinto the office just about closin' time I wa'n't any nearer to knowin'what to do than when I started. 

Most everyone had left when I pushes through the gate and takes a peekinto Piddie's office. He was there. And, say, for a speakin' likeness ofa dropped egg that's hit the floor instead of the toast, he was it! He'sslumped all over the desk, with his head in his hands, and his hair allmussed up, and his shoulders lopped. I always suspicioned he was builtout with pneumatic pads, and blew himself up in the mornin' before hebuttoned on the four-inch collar that kept his chin up; but I did'ntguess he had a rubber backbone. It was a case of fush with Piddie. Hewas all in. What I could see of his face had about as much color to itas a sheet of blottin' paper. 

Layin' on the floor was a map of the whole disaster. It was a WallStreet extra, with a scarehead story of how Blitzen had kept 'emguessin' all day and then, in the last quarter of an hour of tradin', had gone bumpin' the bumps from twenty-eight down to almost nothin' atall. I didn't stop to read the whole thing; but I read enough to findout that Blitzen had gone soarin' on a false alarm, and that when thefacts was give out right the balloon had took fire. And there wasPiddie, still fallin'!

"Hello, " says I. "You look like a boned ham that's in need of the acidbath and sawdust stuffin'. What's queered you so sudden?"

He jumps and tries to pull himself together when he first hears me; butafter he finds who it is he goes to pieces again and flops back in thechair groanin'. 

"Is it new mown hay of the lungs, or too many griddle cakes on thestomach?" says I. 

But he only gasps and groans some more. Maybe I should of felt sorry forhim; but, knowin' the sort of sprung kneed near crook he was, I didn't. He was scared mostly, and he was doin' all the sympathizin' for himselfthat was needed. All of a sudden he braces up and looks at his watch. 

"Perhaps you didn't get there in time?" says he. 

"With the letter and package?" says I. "Watcher take me for? Think I gotmucilage on my shoes? I was there on time, all right. "

"Oh, mercy!" says he. "Torchy, I'm a ruined man. "

"You look it, " says I; "but cheer up. You never was much account anyway;so there's no great harm done. "

Then he begins to blubber, and leak brine, and take on like a woman witha sick headache. "It wasn't my fault, " says he. "I was led into it. Torchy, tell them I was led into it! You'll believe that, won't you?"

"Cert, " says I. "I'll make affidavit I seen 'em snap the ring in yournose. But what's it all about?"

"Oh, it's something awful that's happened to me, " he wails. "It's tooterrible to talk about. You'll know to-morrow. I sha'n't be alive then, Torchy. "

"Ain't swallowed a buttonhook, have you?" says I. 

Next he begins throwin' a fit about what's goin' to become of the missusand the kid. Say, I've been in at two or three acts like this before, and I gen'rally notice that at about such a stage they play that card, the wife and kid. Your real tough citizen don't, nor your realgent, --they shuts their mouths and takes what's comin' to 'em, --but Mr. Weakback has a sudden rush of mem'ry about the folks at home, andsqueals like a pup with his tail shut in the door. 

"Ah, say, " says I, "cut it out! You ought to move up to Harlem and learnto pound the pipes. You're a healthy plunger, you are, sneakin' bondsout of the safe to stack up against a crooked game, and then playin' thebaby act when you lose out! Come now, ain't that the awful thing that'shappened to you?"

He couldn't have opened up freer if he'd been put through the thirddegree. I gets the story of his life then, with a handkerchiefaccomp'niment, --all about the house he's tryin' to buy through thebuildin' loan, and the second-hand bubble he wants to splurge on 'causethe neighbors have got 'em, and how he was tipped off to this sure thingin Blitzen by a party that had always been a friend of his but couldn'tget hold of the stuff to turn the trick himself. He put in all the finepoints, even to the way he came to have a chance at the safe. 

"If I could only put them back!" says he, sighin'. 

"What then?" says I. "Next time I s'pose you'd swipe the whole series, wouldn't you?"

If you could have heard him tell how good he'd be you'd think practicin'a little crooked work now and then was the only sure way to learn how tokeep straight. 

"Piddie, " says I, "I don't want to hurt your feelin's, but you act to melike a weak sister. If I was to do what the case calls for, this thingought to go to the boss. "

"Please don't, Torchy! Please don't!" says he, scrabblin' down on hishands and knees. 

"Nix on that!" says I. "This is no carpet-layin' bee. I'm no squealer, anyway; besides, I had a little interview with Mrs. Piddie and the kidthis noon, and after seein' them I can't rub it in like you deserve. What I've seen and heard I'm goin' to forget. Now sit up straight whileI break the news to you gentle. I went down there to-day, just as youtold me. "

"Yes, I know, " he groans, squirmin'. 

"But I didn't like the looks of the joint; so I didn't dump the bonds. There they are. Now see they get back where you found 'em!"

Talk about your hallelujah praise meetin's! Piddie was havin' one, allby himself--when the inside door opens and Mr. Roberts steps out of hisoffice. 

"I'll take care of those bonds, Mr. Piddie, " says he. 

Chee! what a stunner! Mr. Robert had been in there all the time, writin'private letters, and had took in the whole business. 

Did he give Piddie the fire on the spot? Nah! Mr. Robert carries arounda frigid portico; but he's got a warm spot inside. He says he's mightysorry to hear how near Piddie'd come to goin' wrong; but he's glad itturned out the way it did, and if Piddie'll say how much they rung himin for on Blitzen he'll be happy to make good right there. 

And how much do you guess? A pair of double X's! He'd worried himselfnear sick, worked himself up desp'rate, and had finished by doin'something that stood to get him put away for ten or fifteen years--allfor forty bucks!

"Piddie, " says I, "for a tinhorn, you're a wonder! But, say, when youget home to-night tell that kid of yours I want to see them new shoes ofhis before he gets the toes all stubbed out. "

CHAPTER VIII

A WHIRL WITH KAZEDKY

Chee! W'atcher think? I ain't read an "Old Sleut'" for more'n a week, and there's two murder myst'ries runnin' in the sportin' extras that I'mway behind on. You wouldn't guess it in a month, but I'm takin' a fallout of the knowledge game. Mr. Mallory says I'm part in the sixt' gradeand part in the eight'. 

"I believe it, " says I; "my nut feels that way. "

Honest, I'm stowin' away so much that I never knew before that I'mthinkin' of wearin' a leather strap around my head, same's these strongboys wears 'em on their wrists. 

"Ah! w'at's the use?" says I. "Nobody's ever goin' to ask me what's fourper cent of thoity thousand plunks, an' if I had that much I wouldn'tfarm it out for less'n six, anyway. And I don't see where this De Sotocomes in. Sounds like he might have played first base for the Beanies;but he's been dead too long for that. What odds does it make if I don'tknow the capital of Nevada? I ain't lookin' for no divorce, am I?"

But there's no shakin' Mallory off. He's dug up a lot of kid schoolbooks for me, and I got 'em stowed away in the desk here, like this wasP. S. 46, 'stead of the front office of the Corrugated Trust. And when Iain't takin' cards into the main squeezes, or answerin' fool questionsover the 'phone, or chasin' out on errands for Piddie, I'm swallowin'chunks of information about the times when G. Wash. Was buildin' fortsin Harlem and makin' good for a continuous in front of the Subtreasury. 

Course, it's a clean waste of time. Suppose I gets the run next week, could I win another head office boy job by spielin' off a mess of guffabout a lot of dead ones? Nit, never! But Mallory's got the bug thatit'll all come in handy to me sometime, and I'm doin' it just to keephim satisfied. We get together most every night in his room, and I hasto cough up what I've got next to durin' the day. And say, when I'vebeen soldierin', and try to run in a stiff bluff instead of the realgoods, he looks as disappointed as if I'd done something real low down. So gen'rally I hits up the books when there's nothin' else doin'. 

Mr. Robert's on. He comes in one mornin' and pipes off the 'rithmetic. "What's this, Torchy?" says he. "Studying?"

"Yep, " says I. "When I went through Columbia College there wa'n'tanybody there but the janitor; so I'm takin' a postprandial whirl atthis number dope, and it's fierce. "

"Whose idea?" says he. 

"Mr. Mallory's, " says I. "But I've laid it out flat to him that I drawsthe line at Greek. I'd never want to talk like them 23d-st. Flowerpeddlers, not in a thousand years!"

Didn't tell you, did I, about Mallory's doin' the skyrocket act? AfterMr. Robert gets next to the fact that Mallory's a two seasons' oldfootball hero from his old college he yanks him out of thattwelve-dollar-a-week filin' job and makes him a salaried gent, inside oftwo days. 

"Which is something I owe chiefly to you, Torchy, " says Mallory. 

"Honk, honk!" says I. "Them's the kind of ideas that will get you run infor reckless thinkin'. You was winnin' all that when you did that sprintfor goal your friend Dicky was tellin' about the other day. Now all yougot to do is get up on your toes and make one or two touchdowns for oldCorrugated. "

"I know, " says he; "but I'm afraid that in this game I'm outclassed. "

Honest, he was scared stiff; but he didn't let anyone but me see it. Even a little thing like goin' down to Wall Street and lookin' up somesecurities gets him rattled. He hadn't been gone more'n an' hour 'forehe calls me up on the 'phone and says some broker's clerk has asked himif our concern don't want to bid on P. O. Privileges at seven-eighths. "What are P. O. Privileges?" says Mallory. 

"Oh, tush!" says I. "And you let 'em hand you such a burry one? P. O. Privileges is the right to lick stamps at the gen'ral post-office, andit's a gag them curb shysters has wore to a frazzle. You go back andtell that fresh paper-chewer we're only buyin' options on July snowremovals preferred. "

That's what comes of foolin' around at college. Mallory comes backlookin' like some one had sold him a billboard seat to a free windowshow. 

But that was nothin' to the down-and-out slump I found him in nextnight, when I goes around for my writin' lesson and so on. 

"Is it the _spino comeandgetus_, " says I, "or has Miss Tuttifruttisent back your Christmas card?"

"It's worse than either, " says he, with his chin on the top button ofhis vest. "I guess I'm what you would call a false alarm, Torchy. I'vebeen tried out and haven't made good. "

"G'wan!" says I. "Everyone gets a lemon now and then. Some tries toswaller it whole, and chokes to death; others mixes 'em up with eggs andthings, and knocks out a pie, with meringue on top. Draw us a map of howyou fell off the scaffold. "

Well, I jollied the hard luck tale out of him. It was a case of sendin'a boy with a pushcart to bring home a grand piano. The Old Man had doneit. He's kind of sore on the way Mr. Robert lugged Mallory in by thehair, 'cause I heard him growlin' somethin' about makin' a kindergartenout of the Corrugated; so he springs this on him. He calls for Malloryand tells him there's a Russian gent down to the Waldorf that's comeover to place a big Gover'ment contract. 

"We've got to have a slice of that, " says he. "Just you run down and getit for us. " Like that, offhand, as if it was somethin' you could doanytime between lunch and one-thirty. 

Near as I could make out, Mallory goes for it in his polite, standoff, after-you way, and the closest he gets to Russky is a minute with acocky secretary that says his Excellency is very sorry, but he'll be toobusy to see him this trip--maybe next time, about 1912, he'll have anhour off. 

"And then you backs up the alley?" says I. 

"There was nothing else for me to do, " says Mallory. "He went offwithout giving me another chance. "

"Say, " says I, "if I had all your parlor manners, I'd organize anEnglish holdin' comp'ny for 'em, so's not to be jacked up for bein' amonopoly. Why didn't you give him the low tackle and sit on his headuntil he promised to behave? Was that the only try you made?"

"No, I sent up my card twice after that, " says he, "and it came back. SoI've flunked. I think I'd better go down in the morning and resign. "

Now wouldn't that rust you?

"Then here goes the books, " says I, chuckin' 'em into the corner. "Ifdoin' the knowledge stunt leaves you with a backbone like a piece ofboiled spaghetti, I'm through. "

That makes Mallory sit up as if I'd jabbed him with a pin. "Do I seemthat way to you?" says he. 

"You don't think you're givin' any weight-liftin' exhibition, do you?"says I. 

He lets that trickle through for a minute or so, and then he comes backto life. "Torchy, " says he, "you're right. I'm acting like a quitter. But I don't mean to let go just yet. Hanged if I don't try to see thatman to-night, now, as quick as I can get down there! He's got to see me, by Jove!"

"There's more sense to that than anything else you've said in a week, "says I. "Wish I could be there to hold your hat. "

"Why not?" says he. "Come on. I may need fresh inspiration. "

"Whatever I gives you'll be fresh, all right, " says I; "but if I wasyou, and was goin' to butt into any Fifth-ave. Hotel along aboutdinner-time, I'd wear the regalia. Yours ain't in on a ticket, is it?"

It wa'n't. Mallory had to go clear to the bottom of the trunk after it;but when he'd shook out the wrinkles and got himself inside the view wasworth while. After he's blown up his op'ra hat and got out his stick youcouldn't tell him from a three times winner. 

"Chee!" says I. "You've got Silent Smith tied to a post. If you actslike you look, you don't need me. "

He wouldn't have it that way, though. I'd got to go along and be readyto give him any points I thought of. We goes in a cab, too, in over therubber mats to the carriage door, just like we'd come to hire the royalsuite. 

"The Baron Kazedky, " says Mallory, shovin' his card across at the nearplute behind the desk. 

Then the cold wave begun comin' our way. Mister Baron was out. Nobodyknew where he'd gone. He hadn't left any word. And he didn't receivecallers after four P. M. , anyway. Mallory was gettin' his breath afterstoppin' them body blows, when I pushes in. 

"Say, Sir Wally, " says I, leanin' over towards the clerk and speakin'confidential, "lemme give you somethin' from the inside. If Kazedkymisses seein' Mr. Mallory to-night, you'll be called up to-morrow tohear some Russian language that'll take all the crimp out of that RobertMantell bang of yours. Now ring up one of them bench-warmers and show usthe Baron!"

But, say, you might's well try bluffin' your way through the fire lineson a brass trunk check, "You'll find the manager's office two doors tothe left, gentlemen, " says he. 

"Much obliged for nothin', " says I. 

Course, there wa'n't any use registerin' a kick. Orders is orders, andwe was on the wrong side of the fence. Mallory and I takes a turnthrough the corridors and past the main dinin'-room, where they keeps anorchestra playin' so's the got-rich-quick folks won't hear each othereat their soup. 

We was tryin' to think up a new move. I was for goin' out somewhere andcallin' for the Baron over the 'phone; but Mallory's got his jaw set nowand says he don't mean to leave until he has some kind of satisfaction. He's kind of slow takin' hold; but when he gets his teeth in he's astayer. 

We knocks around half an hour, and nothin' happens. Then, just as we waspushin' through the mob into the Palm Room I runs into Whitey Buck. Youknow about Whitey, don't you? Well, you've seen his name printed acrossthe top of the sportin' page that he runs. And say, Whitey's the smoothboy, all right! Him and me used to do some great old joshin' when I wason the Sunday editor's door. 

"Hello, Whitey!" says I. "Who you been workin' for a swell feed now?"

"That you, Torchy?" says he. "Why, I took your head for an exit light. How's tricks?"

"On the blink, " says I. "We're up against a freeze out, Mr. Mallory andme. You know Mallory, don't you?"

"What, Skid Mallory?" says he, takin' another look. "What a pipe! Why, say, old man, I want you the worst way. Got to hash up a full-pagesympose knockin' reformed football, and if you'll take off athousand-word opinion I'll blow you to anything on the bill of fare. Come on in here to a table while we chew it over. Torchy, grab a garçon. Sizzlin' sisters! but I'm glad to root you out, Skid!"

He was all of that; but it didn't mean anything more'n that Whitey seesan easy column comin' his way. 

Mr. Mallory wa'n't so glad. "Sorry, " says he, "but whatever footballreputation I ever had I'm trying to live down. "

"What!" says Whitey. "Trying to make folks forget the nerviestquarterback that ever pranced down the turf with eleven men after him?Don't you do it. Besides, you can't. Why, that run of yours through theReds has been immortalized in a whole library of kid story books, andthey're still grinding 'em out!"

Mallory turns the color of the candleshades and shakes his head. "Youprint any such rot as that about me, " says he, "and I'll come down andwreck the office. I'm out of all that now, and into something that hasopened my eyes to what sort of useless individual I am. Behold, Whitey, one of the unfit!"

Then Whitey wants to know all about it. 

"It's nothing much, " says Mallory, "only I've been sent out to dobusiness with a Russian Baron, and I'm such a chump I can't even getwithin speaking distance of him. "

"What Baron?" says Whitey. "Not Kazedky?"

"That's the identical one, " says Mallory. "Don't happen to know him, doyou?"

"I sure do, " says Whitey. "Didn't he and I have a heart to heart sessionwhen that sporty Russian Prince was over here and got himself pinched ata prizefight? Kazedky was secretary of the legation then, and it wasthrough me he got the story muffled. "

"Wish you could find out where he is now, " says Mallory. 

"Don't have to, " says Whitey; "I know. He's up in private dining-roomNo. 9. Been captured by a gang of Chamber of Commerce men, who arefeeding him ruddy duck and terrapin and ten-dollar champagne. He's got alot of steel contracts up his sleeve, you know, and----"

"Yes, I know, " says Mallory; "but how can I get to see him?"

"Who are you with?" says Whitey. 

"Corrugated Trust, " says Mallory. 

"Wow!" says Whitey, them skim-milk eyes of his gettin' big. "Theywouldn't let you within a mile of him if they knew. But say, suppose Icould lug him outside, would I get that football story?"

"You would, " says Mallory. 

"By to-morrow noon?" says he. 

"Before morning, if you'll stay at the office until I get through here, "says Mallory. 

"Good!" says Whitey. "Come on! I'll snake him out of there if I have todrag him by the collar. But he's a fussy old freak, and I don'tguarantee he'll stay more than a minute. "

"That's enough, " says Mallory. "He can talk French, I suppose?"

"What's the matter with English?" says Whitey. "Now let's see what kindof hot air I'll give him. "

Whitey didn't say what it was he thinks up; but he was grinnin' allover his face when he leaves us outside of No. 9 and goes in where thecorks was poppin'. It must have been a happy thought, though; for itwa'n't long before he comes out, towin' a dried-up little old runt witha full set of face lambrequins and a gold dog license hung round hisneck from a red ribbon. He had his napkin in one hand and half a dinnerroll in the other; so it didn't look like he meant to make any longstop. He was actin' kind of dazed, too, like he hadn't got somethin'clear in his mind, and he hung back as if he was expectin' some one tohand out a bomb. But Whitey rushes him right up to Mallory. 

"Here's the chap, Baron!" says he. "I couldn't let you go back to Russiawithout shaking hands with the greatest quarterback America everproduced. Mr. Mallory, Baron Kazedky, " and then he winks at Mallory, much as to say, "Now jump in!"

And say, Mallory was Johnny on the spot. He grabs Kazedky's flipper likeit was a life preserver. 

"I--I--really, gentlemen, there's some mistake, " says the Baron. "Aquarter what, did you say?"

"Oh, " says Mallory, "that's some of Mr. Buck's tomfoolery--footballterm, you know. "

"But I am not interested in football, " says the Baron, tryin' to backtowards the door, "not in the least. "

"Me either, " says Mallory, gettin' a new grip on him. "What I want totalk to you about is steel. Now, I represent the Corrugated Trust, andwe----"

Well say, the old man himself couldn't have reeled it off better'nMallory. Why, he had it as letter perfect as a panhandler does his taleabout bein' in the hospital six weeks and havin' four hungry kids athome. I only hears the start of it; for as soon as he got well under wayMallory starts for the other end of the corridor, skatin' the little oldBaron along with him like he was a Third-ave. Clothing store dummy thatwas bein' hauled in at closin'-up time. 

Whitey didn't even wait for the overture. The minute he hands Kazedkyover he fades towards the elevator. There's nothin' for me to do butwait; so I picks out a red velvet chair and camps down on it to watchthe promenade. That's what it was, too; for Mallory acts like he'dforgot everything he ever knew except that he's got to talk steel intothe Baron. I guess it was steel he was talkin'! Every time he passes meI hear him ringin' in Corrugated, and drop forged, and a lot of thingslike that. 

Mallory has a right-arm hook on Kazedky and is makin' motions with hisleft hand. Bein' so tall, he has to lean over to pump his speech intothe old fellow's ear; but every now and then he gets excited and, 'steadof bendin' himself, he lifts the Baron clear off his feet. 

About the third lap some of the gents from the private dinin'-room pokestheir heads out to see what's happened to the guest of the evenin'. Theysaw, all right! They must have been suspicious, too; for they werelookin' anxious, and begun signaling him to break away. 

The Baron didn't have no time for watchin' signals just then. He wasbusy tryin' to keep his feet on the floor. First I knew there was awhole gang at the door watchin' 'em, and they was talkin' over makin' arush for the Baron and rescuin' him, I guess, when Mallory leans him upagainst the wall, hauls out a pad and a fountain pen, and hands thethings to Kazedky. The Baron drapes bis napkin over one arm, stuffs thepiece of roll into his mouth, and scribbles off somethin'. 

When he's done that Mallory pockets the pad, leads the Baron back to hisfriends, shakes hands with him, motions to me, and pikes for theelevator. The last glimpse I has of Kazedky, he's bein' pulled into theprivate dinin'-room, with that half a roll stickin' out of his face likea bung in a beer keg. 

"Well, Torchy, " says Mallory to me, as the car starts down, "I got it!"

"Got what!" says I. 

"Why, the contract, " says he. 

"Chee!" says I. "Is that all? I thought you was pullin' one of his backteeth. "

CHAPTER IX

DOWN THE BUMPS WITH CLIFFY

Say, if you read in the papers to-morrow about how the Chicago Limitedwas run on a siding and a riot call wired back to the nearest Chief ofPolice, you needn't do any guessin' as to what's happened. It'll be acinch that Clifford's gettin' in his fine work; for the last I saw ofhim he was headed West, and where he is there's trouble. 

But you mustn't tear off the notion that Clifford's a Mr. Lush, thatgoes and gets himself all lit up like a birthday cake and then begins tomix it. That ain't his line. He's one of the camel brand. The nearest heever gets to red liquor is when he takes bottled grape juice for aspring tonic; but for all that he can keep the cops busier'n any thirstyman I ever saw. 

First glimpse I gets of him was when I looks up from the desk and seeshim tryin' to find a break in the brass rail. And say, there wa'n't anydoubt about his havin' come in from beyond where they make up the milktrains. Not that he wears any R. Glue costume. From the nose pinchers, white tie, and black cutaway I might have sized him up as a crossbetween a travelin' corn doctor and a returned missionary; but the earmuffs and the umbrella and the black felt lid with the four-inch brimput him in the tourist class. He was one of your skimpy, loose-jointedparties, with a turkey neck that had a lump in front and wa'n't on goodterms with the back of his coat collar. Two of his front teeth was seton a bias, givin' him one of these squirrel mouths that keeps youthinkin' he's just goin' to bite into an apple. 

I watched him a minute or so without sayin' anything, while he waspawin' around for the gate sort of absent minded, and when I thinks it'sabout time to wake him up I sings out:

"Say, Profess, you're on the right side of the fence now; let it go atthat. "

"Ah--er--I beg pardon, " says he. 

"Well, " says I, "that's a good start. "

"I--er--I beg----" says he. 

"You've covered that ground, " says I. "Take a new lead. "

That seems to rattle him more'n ever. He hangs his umbrella over onearm, peels off a brown woolen mitt, and fishes a card out of his insidepocket. "This is the--ah--Corrugated Trust Building, is it not?" sayshe. 

"It is, yes, " says I; "but the place where you cash in your scalper'sbook ticket is down on the third floor. "

"Oh!" says he. "Thank you very much, " and he starts to trot out. He hashis hand on the knob, when a new thought comes to him. He tiptoes backto the gate, pries off one of the ear muffs, and leans over realconfidential. "I didn't quite understand, " says he. "Did you say CousinRobert's was the third door?"

"Chee!" says I. "Willie, take off the other one, so you can get a goodhealthy circulation through the belfry. "

The words seemed to daze him some; but he tumbled to my motions andunstoppered his south ear. 

"Now, " says I, "what's this about your Cousin Bob? Where'd you losehim?"

Watcher think, though? I gets it out of him that he's come all the wayfrom Bubble Creek, Michigan, and is lookin' for Mr. Robert Ellins. Withthat I lets him through, plants him in a chair, and goes in to the boss. 

"Say, " says I to Mr. Robert, "there's a guy, outside that's just floatedin from the breakfast food belt and is callin' for Cousin Robert. Here'shis card. "

"Why, that must be Clifford!" says he. 

"Then it's true, is it, the cousin business?" says I. 

"Certainly it is, Torchy, " says he. "Why not?"

"Oh, nothin', " says I. "I wouldn't have thought it, though. "

"It isn't at all necessary, " says Mr. Robert. "Bring him in at once. "

"I guess I can spare him, " says I. Then I goes back and taps CousinClifford on the shoulder. "Cliffy, " says I, "you're subpoened. Pushthrough two doors and then make yourself right to home. "

Course anyone's liable to have a freak cousin or so knockin' round inthe background, and I s'pose it was a star play of Mr. Robert's, givin'the glad hand to this one; but if I'd found Clifford hangin' on myfam'ly tree I'd have felt like gettin' out the prunin' saw. 

Maybe Mr. Robert was a little miffy because I hadn't been a mind readerand played Clifford for a favorite from the start. Anyway, he jumpsright in to feature him, lugs him off to the club for lunch, and doesthe honors joyous, just as though this was something he'd been lookin'forward to for months. 

I was beginnin' to think I'd made a wrong guess on Clifford, and theawful thought that maybe for once I'd talked too gay was just tricklin'through my thatch, when we gets our first bulletin. Cliffy was due backto the office about four-thirty, havin' gone off by his lonesome afterlunch; but at a quarter of five he don't show up. It was near closin'time when Mr. Robert gets a 'phone call, and by the worried look I knewsomething was up. 

"Yes, " says he, "this is Robert Ellins. Yes, I know such a person. That's right--Clifford. He's my cousin. No, is that so? Why, there mustbe some mistake. Oh, there must be! I'll come up and explain. Yes, I'llsign the bail bond. "

He didn't have a word to say when he turns around and catches megrinnin'; but grabs his hat and coat and pikes for the green lights. 

There wa'n't any call for me to do any rubberin' next day, or ask anyquestions. It was all in the mornin' papers: how a batty gent who lookedlike a disguised second story worker had collected a crowd and blockedtraffic on Fifth Avenue by standin' on the curb in front of one of theVanderbilt houses and drawin' plans of it on a pad. 

Course, he got run in as a suspect, and I guess Mr. Robert had histroubles showin' the desk sergeant that Clifford wa'n't a Western crookwho was layin' pipes for a little jimmy work. Cliffy's architect talewouldn't have got him off in a month, and if it hadn't been that Mr. Robert taps the front of his head they'd had Clifford down toMulberry-st. And put his thumb print in the collection. 

He was givin' it to 'em straight, though. Architectin' was what Cliffywas aimin' at. He'd been studying that sort of thing out in Michigan, and now he was makin' a tour to see how it was done in other places, meanin' to polish off with a few months abroad. Then, after he'd gothimself well soaked in ideas, maybe he'd go back to Bubble Creek, rentan office over the bank, and begin drawin' front elevations of ironfoundries and double tenements. 

That's what comes of havin' rich aunts and uncles in the fam'ly, andduckin' real work while you wait for notice from the Surrogate to comeon and take your share. It wa'n't a case of hustle with Clifford. Isuspicioned that his bein' an architect was more or less of a fad; buthe was makin' the most of it, there was no discountin' that. He'd laidout a week to put in seein' how New York was built, high spots and low, and he went at it like he was workin' by the piece. 

Now, say, there ain't no special harm in goin' around town gawpin' atlib'ries and office buildin's and churches. 'Most anyone could have doneit without bumpin' into trouble; but not Cliffy. It was wonderful how hedug up ructions--and him the mildest lookin' four-eyed gent ever letloose. And green! Say, what sort of a flag station is Bubble Creek, anyway?

Askin' fool questions was Cliffy's specialty. You see, he'd made out alist of buildin's he thought he wanted to take a look at; but he hadn'tstopped to put down the street numbers or anything. And when he wantsinformation does he hunt up a directory or a cop? Oh, no! He holds upanyone that's handy, from a white wings dodgin' trucks in the middle ofMadison Square, to a Wall Street broker rushin' from 'Change out to adirectors' meetin'. He seems to think anybody he meets knows all aboutNew York, and has time to take him by the hand and lead him right wherehe wants to go, whether it's the new Custom House down town, or Grant'sTomb up on the drive. Throw downs don't discourage him any, either. Twominutes after he's been told to go chase himself he'll butt right insomewhere else and call for directions. 

The worst of it was that he couldn't remember what he was told formore'n three minutes on a stretch. We found out these little tricks ofClifford's after he'd been makin' the office his headquarters for acouple of days. 

First mornin' we started him out early for the Battery, to size up theBowling Green Buildin' and the Aquarium. About noon he limps in with hishat all dirt and ashes up and down his back. From the description hegives we figure out that he's been somewhere up on Washington Heightsand has got into an argument with a janitor that didn't like being rungup from the basement and asked how far it was to Whitehall-st. 

Well, we fixes him up, writes out all the partic'lars of his route on acard, and gives him a fresh send-off. It wa'n't more'n half an hourafterwards that I was out on an errand, and as I cut through 22d-st. Back of the Flatiron I sees a crowd. Course, I pushes in to find outwhat was holdin' up all the carriages and bubbles that has to switchthrough there goin' north. Somehow I had a feelin' that it might beClifford. And it was!

He was in the middle of the ring, hoppin' around lively and wavin' thatumbrella of his like a sword. The other party was the pilot of a hansomcab that had climbed down off his perch and was layin' on with his whip. 

I hated to disturb that muss; for I had an idea Cliffy was gettin' aboutwhat was comin' to him, and the crowd was enjoyin' it to the limit. ButI see a couple of traffic cops comin' over from Broadway; so I breaksthrough, grabs Clifford by the arm, and chases him down the avenue, breathin' some hard but not much hurt. 

"Chee!" says I, "but you're a wonder! Was you tryin' to buy aneight-mile cab ride for a quarter?"

"Why, no, " says he. "I merely stopped the man to ask him where thenearest subway station was, and before I knew it he became angry. I'msure I didn't know----"

"That's the trouble with you, Cliffy, " says I, "and if you don't getover it you'll be hurt bad. Where's that card we made out for you?"

"I--I must have lost that, " says he. 

"What you need is a guide and an accident policy, " says I. "Better letme tow you back to the office, and you can talk it over with Mr. Robert. "

He was willin'. He'd had enough for one day, anyhow. 

By mornin' Mr. Robert has lost some of his joy over Cousin Clifford'svisit. Come to find out, he'd never seen him before, and hadn't heardmuch about him, either. "Torchy, " says he, "I shall be rather busyto-day; so I am going to put Cousin Clifford in your care. "

"Ah, say!" says I. "Hand me an easier one. I couldn't keep him straightless'n I had him on a rope and led him around. "

"Well, do that, then, " says he, "anyway you choose. You may take the dayoff, show him the buildings he wants to see, keep him out of trouble, and don't leave him until you have him safe inside my house to-night. I'll make it right with you. "

"Seein' it's you, " says I, "I'll give it a whirl. But if Clifford wantsto travel around town with me he's got to shake the ear pads. "

Mr. Robert says he'll give him his instructions, and all that; but whenit came to springin' the programme on Clifford he runs on a snag. Somewhere back of them squirrel teeth and under the soft hat there was astreak of mule. Cliffy balks at the whole business. He's a whole lotobliged, but he really don't care for comp'ny. Goin' around alone andnot havin' his thoughts sidetracked by some one taggin' along is what helikes better'n anything else. He's always done it in Bubble Creek andnever got into any trouble before--that is, none to speak of. But he'llpromise to cut out janitors and cab drivers. 

As for the ear muffs, he couldn't think of partin' with them. For yearshe's been puttin' them on the first of December and wearin' 'em untilthe last of March, and he'd feel lost without 'em, just the same as hewould without the umbrella. Yes, he knew it wa'n't common; but thatdidn't bother him at all. 

Right there I gets a new line on Clifford. He's one of these guys thatthrows a bluff at bein' modest; but when you scratch him deep you getsnext to the fact that he's dead sure he's a genius and is anxious toprove it by the way he wears his clothes. There's a lot of that kindthat shows themselves off every night at the fifty-cent table d'hôteplaces; but I never knew any of 'em ever came in from so far west asBubble Creek. 

Mr. Robert wa'n't on, though. He still freezes to the notion thatCousin Clifford's just a well-meanin', corn-fed innocent; so before heturns him loose again he gives him a lot of good advice about notgettin' tangled up with strangers. Cliffy smiles kind of condescendin'and tells Mr. Robert he needn't worry a bit. 

With that off he goes; but every time the telephone rings that forenoonme and Mr. Robert gets nervous. We don't hear a word from him, though, and by three o'clock we're hopin' for the best. 

Then Aunt Julie shows up. She's a large, elegant old girl, all got up inPersian lamb and a fur hat with seven kinds of sealin' wax fruit on it. She's just in from Palm Beach, and she's heard that Brother Henry's boyis here on a visit. 

"He was such a cute little dear when he was a baby!" says she. 

"He's changed, " says Mr. Robert. 

"Of course, " says Aunt Julie. "I do want to see if he's grown up to looklike Henry, as I said he would, or like his mother. Where is he now, Robert?"

"Heaven only knows!" says he. "It would suit me best if he was on hisway back to Michigan. "

"Why, Robert!" says Aunt Julie. "And Clifford the only cousin you havein the world!"

"One is quite enough, " says he. 

That gives her another jolt, and she starts to lay out Mr. Robert good, for givin' the frosty paw to a relation that had come so far to see him. "I shall stay right here, " says she, "until that poor, neglected youngman returns, and then I shall try to make up for your heartlesstreatment. "

Aunt Julie didn't have a long wait. She hadn't more'n got herselfsettled, when the elevator stops at our floor and there breaks loose allkinds of a riot in the hall. There was a great jabberin' and footscufflin', and I could hear Dennis, that juggles the lever, forkin' outthe assault 'n' batt'ry language in a brogue that sounded like rippin' asheet. 

"What's up now?" says Mr. Robert, pokin' his head out. 

"Two to one that's Clifford!" says I. 

There wa'n't any time to get a bet down, though; for just then the doorslams open and we gets a view of things. Oh, it was Cliffy, all right!He was comin' in backwards, tryin' to wave off the gang that wasfollerin' him. 

"Go away!" says he, pushin' at the nearest of 'em. "Please go away!"

"Ah, it's you should be goin' away, ye shark-faced baboon, ye!" saysDennis, hoppin' up and down in the door of the car. "You an' yer Polackfriends may walk down, or jump out the winder; but divvle a ride do yezget in this illyvator again. Do ye mind that, now?"

You couldn't blame him; for the bunch wa'n't fit for the ash hoist. Theywere Zinskis, about twenty of 'em, countin' women and kids. You didn'thave to look at the tin trunks and roped bundles to know that they'djust finished ten days in the steerage. You could tell that by thebouquet. They didn't carry their perfume with 'em. It went on ahead, andthey follered, backin' Cliffy clear in until he fetched up against thegate, and then jammin' in around him close. Chee! but they was a punkylot! They had jack lantern faces and garlic breaths, and they looked toknow about as much as so many cigar store Injuns. 

"Did you have your pick, Cliffy, " says I, "or was this a job lot you gotcheap?"

"Clifford, " says Mr. Robert, "what in thunder is the meaning of thisperformance of yours?"

But Clifford just keeps on tryin' to work his elbows clear and looksdazed. "I don't know, " says Cliffy, "truly I don't, Cousin Robert. They've been following me for an hour, and I've had an awful time. "

"Maybe you've been makin' a noise like a wienerwurst, " says I. 

About that time Aunt Julie comes paddin' out. "Did I hear some one sayClifford?" says she. 

"You did, " says Mr. Robert. "There he is, the one with the ear muffs. Ihaven't found out who the others are yet. "

"Phe-e-e-ew!" says she, takin' one sniff, and with that she grabs outher scent bottle and runs back, slammin' the door behind her. 

"Cliffy, " says I, "you don't seem to be makin' much of a hit with yourEllis Island bunch. "

"What I want to know, " says Mr. Robert, "is what this is all about!"

But Clifford didn't have the key. All he knew was that when he startedto leave the subway train they had tagged after, and that since then hehadn't been able to shake 'em. Once he'd jumped on a Broadway car; butthey'd all piled in too, and the conductor had made him shell out anickel for every last one. Another time he'd dodged through one of themrevolvin' doors into a hotel, and four of 'em had got wedged in so tightit took half a dozen porters to get 'em out; but the house detective hadspotted Clifford for the head of the procession and held him by thecollar until he could chuck him out to join his friends. 

"It was simply awful!" says he, throwin' up his hands. 

And then I notices the rattan cane. After that it was all clear. "Where'd you cop the stick, Cliffy?" says I. 

"Stick!" says he. "Why, bless me! I must have taken this instead of myumbrella. It belongs to that gentleman who sat next to me in the subwaytrain. You see he was leaning back taking a nap in the corner, and I wastrying to talk to him, and when I left I suppose I took his cane bymistake. "

"Well, " says I, "the Zinskis goes with the cane. "

It's a fact, too. Most all them immigrant runners carries rattans whenthey're herdin' gangs of imported pick artists around to the railroadstations. It's kind of a badge and helps the bunch to keep track oftheir leader. Most likely them Zinskis had had their eyes glued to thatcane for hours, knowin' that it was leadin' 'em to a job somewheres, andthey wa'n't goin' to let it get away. 

"Gimme it, " says I; "I'll show you how it works. "

Sure enough, soon's I took it and started for the door the whole pushquits eatin' cheese and bread out of their pockets and falls in rightafter me. 

"Fine!" says Mr. Robert, grabbin' my hat and chuckin' it after me. "Goon, Torchy! Keep going!"

"Ah, say!" says I. "I ain't subbin' for Cliffy. This is his gang. "

But Mr. Robert only grins and motions me to be on my way. "If you comeback here before to-morrow morning, " says he, "I'll discharge you onthe spot. "

Now wouldn't that bump you?

"All right, " says I: "but this'll cost Cliffy just twenty. "

"I'll pay it, " says Mr. Robert. 

"It's a whizz, " says I, wavin' the cane. "Come on, you Sneezowskis! I'llshow you where the one fifty per grows on bushes. "

What did I do with 'em? Ah, say, it was a cinch! I runs 'em down sevenflights of stairs, marches 'em three blocks up town, and then rushes upto a big stiff in a green and gold uniform that's hired to stand outsidea flower shop and open carriage doors. He and me had some words a coupleof months ago, because I butted him in the belt when I was in a hurryonce. 

"Here, " says I, rushin' up and jammin' the cane into his hand, "holdthat till I come back!" and before he has time to pipe off the bunch ofPolackers that's come to a parade rest around us, I makes a dive inamongst the cars and beats it down Broadway. 

Nah, I don't know what becomes of him, or the Zinskis either. All I knowis that I'm twenty to the good, and that Cousin Clifford's been shippedback to Bubble Creek, glad to get out of New York alive. But, as I saysto Mr. Robert, "What do you look for from a guy that buttons his ears upin flannel?"

CHAPTER X

BACKING OUT OF A FLUFF RIOT

They will turn up, won't they? Here I was only yesterday noontimeloafin' through the arcade, when who should I get the hail from butHunch Leary, with a bookful of rush messages and his cap down over hisears. 

Now I ain't sayin' he's the toughest lookin' A. D. T. That ever sat on acall bench, for maybe I've seen worse; but with his bent-in nose, andhis pop eyes, and that undershot jaw--well, he ain't one you'd send into quiet a cryin' baby. Hunch didn't pose for that picture of the sweetyouth on the blue signs outside the district offices. They don't pickhim out for these theater-escort snaps, either. 

Which shows how far you can go on looks, anyway; for, if I was going totrust my safety-vault key with anyone, it would be Hunch. Not thatthey'll ever use him to decorate any stained-glass window; but I neverlook for him to land on the rock pile. 

Course, I don't see much of Hunch and the rest these days; but it ain'ta case of dodgin' old friends on my part, so me and him hangs upagainst a radiator in the main corridor and talks it over. I wants toknow if Stiff Miller is still manager down at No. 11 branch, and who'swearin' the red stripe yet; while Hunch he puts over a few politequizzes as to how I'm gettin' on with the Corrugated people. 

We hadn't been gassin' but five minutes or so, and there's ten more dueon the clock before lunch hour is over, when I looks up to see our Mr. Piddie going by and givin' me the frown. I knew what that meant. It'sanother call-down. He has plenty of time to work up his case; for I takesthe limit and don't hang up my hat until the life-insurance chimes hasdone their one-o'clock stunt. And I'm hardly settled behind the brassgate before Piddie is down on me with the old mushy-mouthed reproof. 

"One is known, " says he, "by the company one keeps. "

"I'm no New Theater manager, " says I. "What's the answer?"

"I observed you loitering in the lower corridor, " says he. "That isall. "

"Oh!" says I. "You seen me conversin' with Mr. Leary, eh?"

"Mr. Leary!" says Piddie, raisin' his eyebrows. 

"Well, Hunch, then, " says I. "Tryin' to get up a grouch because youwa'n't introduced? Don't take it hard. He's kind of exclusive, Mr. Learyis. "

Piddie swallows that throat pippin of his two or three times before hecan get a grip on his feelings enough to go on with the lesson of theday. "I merely wish to remark, " says he, "that evil communicationscorrupt good manners. "

"How about court Judges, then, " says I, "and these slum missionaries'?G'wan, Piddie! Back to the copybook with your mottoes! I'm a mixer, Iam! Would I be chinnin' here with you if I wa'n't?"

He sighs, Piddie does, and struts away to freeze the soul of some newlady typist by looking over her shoulder. As an act of charity, theyought to let Piddie fire me about once a month. He'll die of grief if hedon't get the chance sometime. 

And blamed if he don't come near gettin' his heart's desire before theday was over!

It all begins about three o'clock, when Piddie comes turkeyin' out ofthe telephone booth all swelled up with importance and signals me tocome on the carpet. 

"Torchy, " says he, "I presume you know where the Metropolitan Buildingis?"

"They ain't moved it since lunchtime, have they?" says I. 

"That will do!" says he. "Now listen very carefully. "

You'd thought from his preamble that I was going to be sent up toregulate the clock, or see if the tower was still plumb; but all itsimmers down to is that I'm to take a leather document case, hunt up Mr. Ellins, who's attendin' a directors' meetin' over there, and deliversome papers that he's forgot to have his private secretary lug along. 

"And kindly refrain, " he tacks on at the last, "from stopping to talkwith any suspicious characters on the way. "

"Say, Piddie, " says I, "if I was you I'd have that printed on a card. Some day you're going to forget to rub that in. "

Well, I hustles across the square, locates Old Hickory, and delivers thegoods without droppin' 'em down a manhole or doin' any of the otherawful things that Piddie would have warned me against if he'd had moretime. I tucks the empty case under my arm and was for makin' a recordtrip back, just to surprise Piddie; but while I'm waitin' for thatflossy lever juggler on the express elevator to answer my red-lightsignal I hears this riot break loose on the floor below. 

And say, I wa'n't missin' any lively disturbance like that; for itlistens like a mob scene from one of them French guillotine plays. Mostly it's female voices that floats up, and they was all tuned to thesaw-filin' pitch. A pasty-faced young gent wearin' a green eye-shade andan office coat comes beatin' it up the marble steps, and I fires aquestion at him on the fly. 

"Is it a gen'ral rough-house number, " says I, "or have the suffragettesbroke loose again?"

"You're welcome to find out for yourself, " he pants, dashin' up anotherflight. 

"Thanks for the invite, " says I. "Guess I will. "

And, say, talk about your mass plays around a shirtwaist bargaincounter! Why, the corridor was full of 'em, all tryin' to rush the doorof 1, 323 at once. For a guess I should say that half the manicureartists, lady demonstrators, and cloak models between 14th and 34th wason the spot. Oh, they was a swell bunch, with more fur turbans and MarieAntoinette ringlets on view than you could see collected anywhereoutside of Murray's!

They was sayin' things, too! I couldn't catch anything but odd wordshere and there; but the gen'ral drift of their remarks seems to be thatsomeone has welshed on 'em. First off I thought it must be one of theseskirt bucket-shops that has been closed out by the renting agent; butthen I gets a look at the sign on the door and sees that it's thePeruvian Investment Company, which sounds like one of them common twentyper cent. A month games. 

And it's a case of lockout, with the lady customers ragin' on theoutside, and nobody knows what's takin' place behind the ground glass. That wa'n't excitin' enough to lure me from a steady job for long, though, unless some one was goin' to do more'n look desp'rate and talkspiteful. 

"Ah, why not smash something?" I sings out. "Didn't any lady think tobring a brick in her vanity bag?"

A couple turns around and glares at me; but it encourages one to beginhammerin' on the glass with her near-gold purse, and just as I'm aboutto leave this turns the trick. The door swings open all of a sudden, andthere stands a tall, well-built gent, with a green felt hat pushed backon his head, a five-inch cigar juttin' out of one corner of his mouth, and his thumbs stuck in the pockets of a sporty striped vest. On accountof the curly brown Vandyke, he's kind of a foreign-lookin' party; butsomeway them smilin', wide-open eyes of his has a sort of familiar look. 

For a high pressure storm center he seems mighty placid. As he throwsopen the door he steps back into the middle of the room, rests one elbowagainst the rail of a wired-in cashier's coop, and removes the cherootso he can spring a comfortin' smile on the crowd. It's a brainy play. The rush line stops like it has gone up against a bridge pier, and thenspreads out in a half-circle. 

"Well, ladies, " says he, "what can we do for you to-day?"

Do I know who it is then? Well, do I! Maybe it has been months sinceI've heard the voice, and maybe he does wear a set of face herbage thatI'd never seen before; but I ain't one to forget the only real A-1classy boss I ever had; not that soon, anyway. It's Mr. Belmont Pepper, as sure as I've got a Titian thatch on my skull!

Do I linger? That's what! Why, I've been waitin' for him to show upagain like a hired girl waits for Thursday afternoon. It's Mr. Pepper, all right; but it looks like he's been let in bad, for after one or twogasps in chorus that bunch of lady grouches gets their second wind andcloses in on him with a whoop. 

"Where's my dividends? I want to draw out my money! Say, you give meback my eighteen dollars, or I'll----You'll try your bunko game on me, will you? Hey! I've been waiting since noon to catch you, you----"

My! but they did have their hammers out! They called him everything thata lady could, and a few names that wa'n't so ladylike as they mighthave been. They shook things at him, and promised to do him all sorts ofdamage, from bringin' lawsuits to scratchin' his eyes out. 

Mr. Pepper, though, he goes on smokin' and smilin', now and thenthrowin' in a shoulder shrug just to hint that there wa'n't any use inhis tryin' to get in a word until they was all through. He almost actslike he enjoyed being mobbed; but of course he knew better'n to chokeoff a lot of women before they'd had their say out. He just let 'em jawalong and get it out of their systems. Fin'lly he raises his hand, takesoff the green lid, and bows graceful. 

"Ladies, " says he, "I fully sympathize with your impatience--fully. "

"You look it, I don't think!" sings out a big blonde, shakin' her willowplumes energetic. 

Mr. Pepper throws her a smile and spiels ahead. "You will be pleased tohear, however, " says he, "that the board of directors, on the strengthof cabled advices from our general manager in Peru, has just voted anextra dividend of ten per cent. "

"When do we get it? Show us some money!" howls the kickers. 

"I have been requested to announce, " goes on Mr. Pepper, "that paymentsfrom this office will be resumed promptly at noon--on the first day ofnext month. "

Does that satisfy 'em? Not so you'd notice it. A bigger squawk than evergoes up, and the jam around Mr. Pepper begins to look like rush hour atthe Hudson Terminal. They starts clawin' at his elbows, and grabbin' hiscoat, and when I notices one wild-eyed brunette reachin' for a hatpin Iknew it was a case of me to the rescue or sendin' in an ambulance call. 

Not that I had any notion what ought to be done in a case like this. Icouldn't throw him a rope or shove out a plank; I ain't any expert womantrainer, either; but can I stand there with my mouth open and see an oldfriend get the hooks thrown into him by a class in hysterics? Not whenthe hookee happens to be one that once set me up as a stockholder in agold mine. So I lets flicker with the first fool idea that comes into myhead. 

"Gangway!" I shouts out, wedgin' my way in among 'em and usin' myelbows. "Gangway for the bank messenger! Ah, don't shove, girls; heain't the only man left in New York. One side for the real moneybringer! One side now!" And by holdin' the leather case high up wherethey could all see it, and hittin' the line like Coy does when it'sthree downs with ten yards to go, I manages to get through withoutlosin' many coat buttons. 

"Here you are, sir, " says I, shovin' the case out to Mr. Pepper andgivin' him the knowin' look. "City National. Cashier wants a receipt. "

Does he need a diagram and a card of instructions? Trust Belmont Pepper!"Ah, this way, " says he. "Pardon me a moment, ladies, only a moment. This way, young man. " And almost before they know what has happened himand me are behind the partition with the gate locked. 

"Let's see, " says he, lookin' me over kind of puzzled, "it's--er--Torchy, isn't it?"

"There's the proof, " says I, liftin' the cover off my danger signal. 

"I might have known, " says he, "that no one else could have put up sogood a bluff on the spur of the----"

"Now that's all right, Mr. Pepper, " says I; "but the bluff won't hold'em long. What you want to do is get busy and make a noise likehundred-dollar bills. I don't know what the trouble is; but it lookslike the genuine goods to me. "

"Diagnosis correct, " says he. "I'm boxed. Now if they were only men, Icould----"

"Oh, sure!" says I. "But a bunch of nutty fluffs is diff'rent. Theynever know what they want or why they want it. Say, ain't you gotanother exit?"

Mr. Pepper shakes his head. "No, son, " says he; "but don't you worryabout me. Your strategy thus far has been excellent; but I don't wantyou to get mixed up in this mess. Skip, Torchy, while the skipping iseasy. "

"Mr. Pepper, " says I, "do I look like a quitter? I ain't forgot what youdid about givin' me them Glory Be stocks, either, and I'm goin' to hangaround here until this little private cyclone of yours blows over. "

Mr. Pepper he looks at me a minute in that calm way of his, and then heshrugs his shoulders. "All right, " says he. 

Then we listens to the buzz outside. Some was explainin' to others how abushel of money had just come in from the City National Bank, and somewas insistin' that it was just a north-pole fake. It's a free-for-alldebate with all rules in the discard. Then we hears one voice that'slouder than the others calling out for a committee. 

"We must organize!" she says. "Let's organize for action!"

"Ah!" observes Mr. Pepper. "Now for feminine tactics! That looksbetter. "

A couple of minutes more and they've concluded to adjourn to thecorridor. When they're all out and I can hear 'em down at the furtherend, I gives him the tip. 

"Now's your chance!" says I. "Up one flight and you can get an expresselevator. I'll show you. "

Mr. Pepper don't like the idea, though, of doin' the gumshoe sneak. Hehates to run away from any kind of a fight, specially a lot of women. Hedon't run, either; but after awhile he consents to walk out, and westrolls towards the steps dignified and easy. 

It looked like a clean get-away for a minute, too; but I hadn't countedon their leavin' a picket to watch the elevator. She sees us and givesthe alarm; so by the time we're up to the next floor the whole mob isafter us, lettin' out the war cries as if it was a case of kidnappin'. 

They struck the upper corridor just as I've got my finger on the button, and in the front ranks they're pushin' along the gray uniformed specialcop that they've rung up from the first floor. Also who should step outinto the midst of the riot but Old Hickory Ellins, just leavin' thedirectors' meeting. He goes purple-faced and bug-eyed, but before I candodge out of sight of course he spots me. And that's the very minutewhen a couple of lady avengers points me and Mr. Pepper out to the copand the pinch business is about to begin. 

"Why, what's all the row about, Torchy?" says he. "And who is that withyou?" He gets answers from the anvil chorus. 

"That's the swindler!" they shouts. "That's Prentice Owens! He's the onethat took our money, and the boy is one of the gang! Nab 'em, Mr. Officer, please nab 'em!"

"G'wan, you're a lot of flossy kikes!" I throws back at 'em. 

"Torchy, " says Mr. Ellins, "have you been up to any swindling game?"

"Honest, I ain't, Mr. Ellins, " says I. 

"I am inclined to believe that, " says he; "but what about the otherperson? Is he a friend of yours?"

"Sure, " says I. "And he's on the level too. "

"He's Prentice Owens, is he?" says he. 

"Nah, " says I. "He's Mr. Belmont Pepper, he is, president of the GloryBe Mining Company. Why, I used to work for him! That aggregation offemale dopes is full of prunes. Mr. Pepper's no crook. "

"Hum!" says Old Hickory, rubbin' his chin. "A case of mistaken identity, eh? Officer, you know me, I suppose?"

"Yes, Mr. Ellins, " says the special, jerkin' off his cap, "oh, yes, sir. "

"Then drive these deluded women downstairs and tell them their mistake, "says Old Hickory. "Come, Mr. Pepper. Come, Torchy. In with you!"

And inside of two shakes we're shootin' down a one hundred and fiftyfoot shaft with no stops until the ground floor. Not until we getsoutside and Mr. Ellins jumps into his cab does Mr. Pepper say a word. 

"Torchy, " says he, "you're the real thing in the friendship line. I willadmit that appearances are somewhat against me, but----"

"Ah, say!" I breaks in. "Don't I know you, Mr. Pepper? Do I have to seeany books to know that you're playin' a straight game? It was a matterof needin' a little time, wa'n't it, and bein' rushed off your feet whenyou didn't expect the move? I could guess that much from the start. AllI want to ask is, how's the mine gettin' on, the Glory Be, you know?"

He looks at his feet for a second or so and kind of flushes. Then hestraightens up, looks me level between the eyes, and reaches out a handto give me the brotherhood grip. 

"Torchy, " says he, "there is a mine, and the last I heard it was stillthere. Anyway, I'm dropping the investment business right here, and I'mgoing out to see what our property looks like. I'll let you know. " Withthat he whirls and dashes off across the avenue. 

"How is it, " says Piddie when I gets back, "that it takes you an hourand a quarter to go four blocks?"

"Hookworms, Piddie, " says I, "hookworms. I had a sudden attack. "

CHAPTER XI

RUNG IN WITH THE GOLD SPOONERS

On the level now, what's a he Cinderella? And if your boss called you aname like that, would you resign, or throw out your chest and strike fora raise? But, then, maybe it was only some of Mr. Robert's fancyjoshin'. Anyway, I'd stand in line waitin' for a thing like that tohappen again. 

The way it begun was when I runs across this new girl in the filin' roomand finds her snifflin' over one of the index cases. She's bitin' herlips to keep from doing it and she's red way up behind her ears; so Iknows she's more mad than sorry. I could guess what's happened; for I'djust seen Piddie come out of there looking satisfied and important. 

"Hello, sis!" says I. "Weepin' over your job so soon?"

"Shut up!" says she. 

"Why, how pettish!" says I. "What was Piddie callin' you down for?"

"What's that to you?" says she. "Who are you, anyway?"

"Me?" says I. "Why, I'm the Corrugated's gen'ral grouch dispeller. I'mthe official little ray of sunshine. See?" and I bobs my head so she canget a good view of my red thatch. 

"Huh!" says she; but she can't help lettin' out a grin, so I sees thecure has begun. 

"Don't you mind Piddie, " says I. "He don't dare tie the can to youwithout reportin' higher up. He likes to make a noise like a watchdog, that's all. Next time you give him the merry chuckle. "

And, honest, I'd done the same if she'd been wall-eyed andtoggle-jointed, just for the sake of blockin' off his little game. 

It wa'n't until a couple of days later, when she shoots over a casualflashlight look as I'm strollin' past, that I takes any partic'larnotice of what a Daisy Maizie she is. There's more or less class to herlines, all right, not to mention a pair of rollin' brown eyes. Course, Isends back the roguish wink, and by the end of the week we was callin'each other by our pet names. 

Not that I'm entered reg'lar as a Percy boy, or that I takes this soserious as to miss any meals; but you know how it is. And what if shewas a few years older? She seems to like it when I sing out, "Oh, youTheresa!" at her, and once she mussed up my hair when there wa'n'tanybody lookin'. In fact, I was almost to the point of thinkin' that I'dbeen picked as somebody's honey boy when this Izzy Budheimer shows up asa late entry. 

Izzy, he's a third assistant in the stock department, and on twelve aweek he sports one of those striped green overcoats and a plush hat withthe bow behind. Maybe he wouldn't be listed as a home destroyer; but hehas a flossy way with him and he goes around a lot. About the secondweek I sees him and the new girl gettin' chummier and chummier, and, while she still has a jolly for me now and then, I knows I'm only a sideissue. That's what hurt most. So what fool play must I make but go andplunge on a sixty-cent box of mixed choc'lates for her!

As luck would have it, Mr. Robert spots me comin' out of the 23d-st. Candy shop with the package under my arm. You wouldn't think he'd noticea little clew like that, or pick me up on it; but he does. 

"How now, Torchy?" says he. "Sweets to the sweet, eh?"

"Uh-huh, " says I, and I guess I colors up some. 

"What is the fair one's name?" says he. 

"Tessie, " says I. 

"Ah!" says he. "Thus were they ever named: Tessie, Juliet, and Helen ofTroy. They're all one. My envious sympathy, Torchy, and may the gods bekind!"

Which is only the brand of hot air Mr. Robert blows off whenever he hasa good lunch under his vest and nothin' heavy on his mind. It don't meananything at all. 

"Troy!" says I. "Can it! This ain't for no up-State laundry hand. Shecomes from Eighth-ave. "

Well, I stows the box away until closin' time, and then waits around theupper corridor for Tessie to show up. Izzy, he spots me and proceeds toimprove the time by givin' me an earache about what an important partyhe is, how he expects to be jumped a notch soon, and about how much hemakes nights on the outside, followin' up some checkroom snap or other. 

"That's fine!" says I. "But won't you be late gettin' over toGrand-st. ?"

Izzy was still explainin' how long it was since his folks moved to theWest Side, and what swell things they had in the parlor, when Tessiefloats out with her new spring lid and princess walkin' suit on. I'mjust shovin' out the peace offerin' and gettin' ready to hand over mysmoothest josh, when she brushes past like I was part of the walldecoration, squeals, "Oh, Mr. Budheimer!" and begins showin' Izzy sometickets for the grand annual benefit ball of the Shirtwaist Makers'Union, and tellin' him how she was sellin' 'em for her sister, and whata grand time it was goin' to be. 

"How much?" says Izzy, tryin' hard to choke it back, but losin' thestruggle. 

"Seventy-five for a double ticket, " says Tessie. "That's the kind youwant. "

"Maybe I would yet, if I could get a partner, " says he. 

"Ain't that an awful sad case?" says Tessie. "Nobody's teased me veryhard, either. "

"You'll go with me, yes?" says Izzy. 

"It's awful sudden, " says she; "but a chance is a chance. Don't send acab; the folks in the block might think I was putting on. "

And me? Why, I don't show on the chart at all! Right under my nose shedoes it, and don't even give me a sideways glance. 

"Pooh!" says I. "Pooh, pooh!"

"What a cute little fellah!" says Tessie to him as they crowds into theelevator with the rest of the push. 

"Say, " says I, making a jump for the grating, "you don't need to----"

"Next car!" sings out the Johnny Flip, slammin' the door. Now wa'n'tthat rubbin' it in?

"Coises!" says I. "Deep coises!" and walks down eleven flights with atemperature that would have got me condemned by any boiler inspector inthe business. The candy? That goes to one of the pie-faced maids where Ilives. 

The nerve of that Izzy, though! In the mornin' he comes around just likenothin' had happened and wants to know if I'll sub. For him on hisevenin' job the night he goes to the ball. To show I don't carry anygrouch, I says I will; but he offers only half-pay and makes me agree tosplit the tips with him. 

"I couldn't afford it, at that, " says he, "only this is a kid sessionand the graft will be light. "

It's this checkroom work of his, you know, at one of them swellFifth-ave. Joints where they have an extra night force on call forcoming-out parties and dinner dances and the like. So, while him andTessie is enjoyin' themselves with the lady shirtwaist makers, I'mstandin' behind the counter wearin' a braided jacket, givin' out checkcoupons, and stowin' away hats and top-coats for Master Reginald andother buddin' sports of the younger set. Seems this is the final blowoutof Miss Somebody's afternoon dancin' class, and no one was allowedinside unless Father had his name printed in bright red ink in thesocial register. 

A hot lot of young gold spooners they was too; some of 'em not as old asme by a couple of years, and swellin' around in dinky Tuxes and whitekids. One of 'em even hands me in a silver-headed cane. 

"Careful of that stick, my man, " says he. 

"Oh, sure!" says I. "Puppah'd be wild if anything happened to it, wouldn't he?"

And you should have heard the talk they had as they loafs around thecloakroom between the numbers, --all about the awful things they did atprep school, how they bunked the masters, and smuggled brandied peachesup to their rooms, and rough-housed durin' mornin' prayers. Almost madeyour blood run cold--not. 

When they got to discussin' the girls, though, and sayin' how such a onewas a "jolly sort, " and others was "bloomin' rotters, " it made meseasick and it was a relief when they took to whisperin' things Icouldn't hear about the chaperons. After intermission they come sneakin'in by twos and threes to hit up their cigarettes. 

It was about eleven-thirty and there was four or five of 'em in thecloakroom, puffin' away languid like real clubmen, when in drifts ayoung lady all in pink silk and gold net and hails one of the wickedbunch. 

"Bobby, " says she, "you ought to be ashamed of yourself!"

"Run on now, Vee, " says he. "Told you when I asked you to come that Iwasn't a dancing man, y'know. "

"Fudge!" says she, stampin' her foot. "You think it's smart to take thatpose, don't you? Well, you wait!"

And, say, you talk about your haughty beauts! Why, she was a little thesilkiest young queen I ever had a real close view of, --the slimmest feetand ankles, reg'lar cameo-cut face all tinted up natural like a bunch ofsweet peas, and a lot of straw-colored hair as fine as cobwebs. She wasa thoroughbred stunner, this Miss Vee was, and mad all over. 

"I haven't been on the floor for four numbers, " she goes on. "You justwait!"

"You wouldn't be cad enough to peach on us for smokin', would you?" saysBobby. 

"Wouldn't I, though!" says she. 

That starts a stampede. All but Bobby chucks away their cigarettes andbeats it back to the ballroom. He turns sulky, though. 

"Tell ahead, " says he. "Who cares? And let's see you get any moredances!"

He's a pasty-faced, weak-jawed youth with a chronic scowl and a sullenlook in his eyes. I should say he was sixteen maybe, and the young ladya year older. She grips her fan hard and stands there starin' at him. I'm so much int'rested in the case that the first thing I know I'vebutted in with advice. 

"Ah, be nice, Claude!" says I. "Dance with the young lady. I would if Iwas you. "

And you can't guess how fussy a little remark like that gets Bobby boy. He almost swallows his cigarette from the jar he gets, being spoken toby a common cloakroom checker. First off he jumps up and stalks over tome real majestic and threatenin'. 

"You--you----How dare you?" he splutters out. 

"There, there!" says I. "Don't get bristle-spined over it. I wa'n'tofferin' any deadly insult, and if it makes you feel as bad as all thatI'll take it back. "

"I--I'll have you dismissed!" he growls. 

"Can't do it, Bobby, " says I. "I'm no reg'lar tip-chaser. I'm hereincog. --doing it for a lark, y'know. Back to your corner, now! There's alady present. "

He glares at me for a minute or so, and then turns on the queen in pink. "I hope you're satisfied, Vee, " says he. "You would come in here, though! I can't help it if the attendants are insolent to you. "

"Pooh!" says Miss Vee. "The young man was only taking my part. "

"So?" sneers Bobbie. "I congratulate you on your new champion. "

"He acts more like a gentleman than you do, at any rate!" she fires backat him. 

"Does he?" says Bobby. "Then why don't you get him for a partner?"

[Illustration: "G'WAN!" SAYS I, "IT'S A FAIR SWAP. "]

"If you don't ask me for this next waltz, I will, " says she, tossin' upher chin. 

"What a bluff!" says Bobby. "Well, Miss Vee, I'm not going to ask you. Now!"

Say, it was gettin' more or less personal by that time, and I waswonderin' just how the young lady was goin' to back out of theproposition that had been put up to her, when the first thing I knowshe's marchin' straight over to where I was. 

"Will you give me this next waltz?" says she. 

"Say, " I gasps, "do you mean it?"

"Certainly I do, " says she. "You can dance, can't you?"

"I don't know, " says I; "but I can do an East Side spiel. "

"Good!" says she. "I know how to do that too. Come on. "

"In a minute, " says I. "Just hold on until I borrow the younggentleman's evenin' coat. "

"Wha--what's that?" snorts Bobby. 

"You can be usin' mine for a smokin' jacket, " says I. "Peel it off now, and let the fancy vest come along too!"

"I--I won't do it!" says Bobbie. 

"Oh, yes, you will, " says I, "or else you and me will be mixed up in arumpus that'll bring the chaperons and special cops in here on therun, " and with that I proceeds to shed the braided coat and my blackvest. 

"You're insulting!" says Bobby, gettin' wild-eyed. 

"G'wan!" says I. "It's a fair swap. I'll leave it to the young lady. "

And when I'd sized her up for a thoroughbred I hadn't made any wildguess. There's a twinkle under them long eyelashes that's as good as ago-ahead signal. 

"Of course, " says she. "It was you who suggested him as a partner, anyway. And hurry, Bobby, there goes the waltz!"

"I--I----" he begins. 

"Ah, shuck 'em!" says I, startin' for him hasty. 

I expects it was the prospects of gettin' rung into a rough and tumble, and having to explain to mother, that changed Bobby's mind so sudden. Atany rate, inside of a minute more I'm wearin' the pearl-gray waistcoatand the silk-faced tuxedo, and out I sails onto the shiny floor of thegreen and gold ballroom with somebody's pink-costumed heiress hangin' tomy left arm. 

"One-two-three; one-two-three----Now!" says she, countin' out the timeso I shouldn't make any false start. 

But, say, I didn't need that. Course, I'm no cotillion leader, and aboutall the dancin' I ever done was at chowder parties or in the ConeyIsland halls; but who couldn't keep step to a tune like "Yip-I-Addy"played by a twelve-piece goulash orchestra, specially with such acrackerjack partner as Miss Vee was?

Could we spiel together? Why, say, we just floats along over the waxedmaple boards like a pair of summer butterflies, pivotin' first one wayand then the other, dodgin' in and out among the couples, and givin' anexhibition that had any other performance on the floor lookin' like acripples' parade. 

First it got into my heels, and then it goes to my head. I didn't knowwhether I was waltzin', or havin' a joy ride with some biplane shuffer. I wa'n't sayin' a word in the way of language; but Miss Vee keeps up astring of chatter and giggles that's enough for both. You'd thought tosee us, I expect, that we was carryin' on a real, rapid-fire, smart-setdialogue, when all the while it was only her tellin' me how thediff'rent parties was actin' when they first spotted her on the floorwith a ringer, and how the chaperons were squintin' at us through theirlorgnettes, tryin' to make out who I was. And the greatest shock I everhad was when the music stopped and I fell about a mile down through rosyclouds. 

"Wait!" says Miss Vee, squeezin' my arm. "There'll be an encore. Myaunt's over there, and she's just wild; but it doesn't matter. "

"You're a good sport, " says I, joinin' in the hand-clappin' to jog theorchestra into givin' us a repeat. 

And just as they starts up the tune again I happens to glance up intothe little visitors' balcony at the end of the ballroom. Who do youguess I sees watchin' us bug-eyed and open-mouthed? Why, Izzy Budheimerand Miss Tessie! See? They've broke away from the lady shirtwaistersdurin' the supper hour so Izzy can give his new girl a glimpse of what areal swell dance is like. Maybe he planned on stoppin' in at thecloakroom too, and seein' if I was holdin' down the job proper. 

Anyway, I can't blame him for doin' the open-face act when he discoversme out on the floor with the belle of the ball. But all I has time to dois send him up the chilly stare, and away we go again into anotherone-two-three dream--me and Miss Vee. 

"I don't care what becomes of me, " she hums over my shoulder. 

"Me either, " says I. 

"Silly boy!" says she. "What's your name?"

"Just Torchy, " says I, "after my hair. "

"I think curly red hair is cute, " says she. 

"I could go hoarse sayin' things like that about you, " says I. 

Maybe it was lucky, too, that this second installment was short, or Imight have gone clean mushy; for the way she could look at me out ofthem big gray eyes of hers was--well, it was the real thing in thrills. The wind-up came just as we gets around near the cloakroom door and westops. 

"It was awfully good of you, " says she. 

"Gee!" says I. "Why, I could wear out all my old shoes doin' that, andif ever you need----"

"S-s-sh!" says she. "Here comes my aunt!"

Not waitin' for any further diagram of the situation, I makes a dashinto the cloakroom, where I finds Izzy Budheimer gazin' puzzled atBobby, who's sittin' tilted back in his shirt sleeves with the braidedcoat slung on the floor. 

"Look here, Torchy!" begins Izzy. "What the----"

"On the job, Izzy, if you want to save it!" says I, wigglin' out ofMaster Bobby's expensive clothes and chuckin' 'em at him. 

"But why--what----" says Izzy, tryin' again. 

"Don't stop to ask fool questions of a busy society man, " says I; "butjump into your uniform, get in your coop there, and prepare to put thetimelock on your conversation works. In about a minute there'll be adelegation of old hens in here lookin' for a mysterious young gent withincendiary hair who has disappeared. Your cue is to look innocent andnot know anything about it. See? If there's any explainin' to be done, let Bobby do it. "

"Oh, I say!" groans Bobby, jumpin' up, and by the time I've struck thebottom stair on my way out he's grabbed his overcoat and is beatin' itdown to find his carriage. 

How Miss Vee squared it with Aunty is a puzzle I never expect to findout the answer to; but I'll risk her. She's a pink queen, she is, andafter that one waltz with her I can look cold-eyed at a row of Tessiegirls stretchin' from here to the Battery!

CHAPTER XII

LANDING ON A SIDE STREET

It was a little matter between me and Mother Sykes that starts me off tohunt a new boardin' place. Lovely old girl, Mother Sykes is, one of thekind that calls everybody "Deary" and collects in advance every Saturdaynight. She's got one of them inquisitive landlady noses that looks likeit was made for pryin' up trunk covers and pokin' into bureau drawers. 

That don't bother me any, though. It's only when I misses my swelloutfit, the one Benny had built for me to wear at his weddin', that Igets sore. Course, she'd only borrowed it for Pa Sykes to wear on aSunday afternoon call, him bein' a little runt of a gent, with wateryeyes and a red nose, that never does anything on his own hook. And if hehadn't denied it so brassy I shouldn't have called him down so hard, right in the front hall with half the roomers listenin'. 

"Dreamed it, eh, did I?" says I. "Well, listen here, Sykesy! Next time Ihas an optical illusion of you paradin' out in any of my uniform, there'll be doin's before the Sergeant!"

Then Mother Sykes rushes up from the kitchen and saves the fam'ly honorby throwin' an indignation fit. I don't know how long it lasted; but shewas gettin' purple clear up under her false front when I slid out thedoor and left her at it. Next day I noticed the sign hung up; but Ididn't know which sky parlor was vacant until I strolls in atfive-fifteen Friday night and finds my things out in the hall and a newlodger in my room. 

"Oh, well, " says I, "what's a sudden move now and then to a free lancelike me?"

And as there ain't anybody in sight to register my fond farewells with, I gathers up my suitcase and laundry bag, chucks the latchkey on thestand in the front hall, and beats it. Not until I'm three blocks awaydoes I remember that all the cash I've got in my clothes is threequarters and a dime, which comes of my listenin' to Mallory's adviceabout soakin' my roll away in a bloomin' savings bank. 

"Looks like I'd spend the night in a Mills hotel, " says I, "unless Ifind Mallory and make a touch. "

It was chasin' him up that fetches me over on the West Side and throughone of them nice, respectable, private-house blocks just below 14th-st. You know the kind, that begin at Fifth-ave. With a double-breasted oldbrownstone, and end at Sixth with a delicatessen shop. 

Well, I was moseyin' along quiet and peaceful, wonderin' how long sinceanything ever really happened in that partic'lar section, when all of asudden I feels about a cupful of cold water strike me in the back of theneck. 

"Wow!" says I. "Who's playin' me for a goat now?"

With that I turns and inspects the windows of the house I'd just passed, knowin' it must be some kid gettin' gay with the passersby. There's nosigns of any cut-up concealed behind the lace curtains, though, and noneof the sashes was raised. If it hadn't been for the way things had beencomin' criss-cross at me, I suppose I'd wiped off my collar and gonealong, lettin' it pass as a joke; but I wa'n't feelin' very mirthfuljust then. I'm ready to follow up anything in the trouble line; so Isteps into the area, drops my baggage, shins up over the side of thefront steps, and flattens myself against the off side of the vestibuledoor. Then I waits. 

It ain't more'n a minute before I hears the door openin' cautious, andall I has to do is shove my foot out and throw my weight against theknob. Somebody lets out a howl of surprise, and in another minute I'minside, facin' a twelve-year-old kid armed with a green tin squirt gun. He's one of these aristocratic-lookin' youngsters, with silky lighthair, big dark eyes, and a sulky mouth. Also he's had somethin' of ascare thrown into him by being caught so unexpected; but some of hisnerve is still left. 

"You--you get out of here!" he snarls. 

"Not until you've had a dose of what you handed me, sonny, " says I. "Give it up now, Reggie boy!"

"I won't!" says he. "I--I'll have you thrown out!"

"You will, eh?" says I, makin' a rush for him. 

"O-o-o-oh, Aunty, Aunty!" he squeals, dashin' down the hall. 

Now, say, the way I was feelin' then, I'd have gone up against a wholefam'ly, big brothers included; so a little thing like a call for Auntydon't stop me at all. As he turns into the room on the left I'm only ajump behind, and all that fetches me up is when he does a dive behind anold lady in a big leather chair. She's a wide, heavy old party, with adinky white cap on her white hair, and kind of a resigned, patient lookon her face. Someway, she acts like she was more or less used tosurprises like this; for she don't seem much excited. 

"Why, Hadley!" she remarks. "Whatever is the matter now?"

"He--he chased me into the house!" whines Master Hadley from behind thechair. 

"Did you?" says the old girl. 

"Sure, " says I. "He's too blamed fresh!"

"There, there!" says she. "You mustn't speak that way of Hadley. He isonly a little boy, you know. "

"Yes'm, " says I. 

"And he was only indulging in innocent play, " she goes on. "Come, Hadley, untie me now. Please, Hadley!"

Say, I hadn't noticed it before, but the old girl is roped solid, feetand arms, to the chair legs, and it's clear that when nobody was goin'by for little Hadley to shoot at he'd been usin' Aunty for a target. Thedamp spots on the wall behind the chair and one or two on her dressshowed that. 

"I won't, unless you'll call Maggie and have her throw him out!" growlsHadley. 

"Oh, come, Hadley, be a good boy!" coaxes Aunty. 

"Sha'n't!" says Hadley. "And next time I'll shoot ink at you. "

"Now, Hadley!" protests Aunty. 

"Excuse me, lady, " says I, "but it looks to me like there was somethingcomin' to Hadley that I ought to tend to. This ain't on my account, either, but yours. Now watch. Hi, freshy!" and I makes another dash forhim. 

Well, he knows the lay of the land better'n I do, and he's quick on thedodge, so we has a lively time of it for a couple of minutes, himthrowin' chairs in my way and hurdlin' sofas, Aunty beggin' us to quitand callin' for Maggie, and me keepin' right on the job. But at last Igot him cornered. He makes a desp'rate duck and tries to butt me; but Icatches his head under my arm and down he goes on the rug. I'd justyanked the squirt gun out of his hand and was emptyin' it down the backof his neck, with him hollerin' blue murder, and Aunty strugglin' to getloose, when the front door opens and in walks a couple of ladies, oneold and the other young. 

And, say, you talk about your excitin' tableaux! In about two shakesthere's all kinds of excitement; for it seems one of the new arrivals isHadley's mommer, and she proceeds to join the riot. 

"Oh, my darling boy! My darling!" she sings out. "What is happening! Heis being killed! Oh, he is being killed!"

"G'wan!" says I, gettin' up and exhibitin' the squirt gun. "I was onlyhandin' him some of the same sport he's been dealin' out to others. It'll do him good. "

"You--you young scoundrel!" says mommer. Then, turnin' to the old ladywho came in with her, she gasps out, "Zenobia, telephone for thepolice!"

It's the real thing, too, and no flossy bluff about the lady's grouch. She's a swell, haughty-lookin' party, and she acts like she was used tohavin' her own way about things. So the prospects begin to look squally. Not that I'm one to curl up and shiver at sight of a cop. Give me plentyof room to do the hotfoot act, and I don't mind guyin' any of thempavement-pounders; but with me shut up in a house where I hadn't beeninvited in, and a bunch of excited females as witnesses against me, it'sa diff'rent proposition. This was no time to weaken, though. 

"Go ahead, " says I. "Double six-O-four-two Gramercy; that's the greenlight number for this district. And Uncle Patrick'll be glad to see you. Tell him you got charges to make on his nephew. That'll tickle him todeath. Maybe I'll have something to say when we all get there, too. "

"What do you mean?" says Hadley's mother. 

"Counter complaint, that's all, " says I. "Your little darling soaked mefirst. "

"It--it isn't true!" says she. "I don't believe it!"

And here Zenobia comes in with the soothin' advice. She's anotherwhitehaired old lady, lookin' something like the one in the chair, onlynot so bulky and with more ginger about her. "Now, Sally, " says she, "let's not talk of calling in the police over a trifle. Hadley doesn'tappear to be hurt, and possibly he was somewhat at fault. "

"The idea!" says Sally. "Why, I saw this young ruffian pommeling him. And look! Martha is bound in her chair. He's a burglar!"

Oh, they had a great debate amongst 'em, Aunt Martha fin'lly admittin'it was just a little prank of Hadley's, her being roped down; but shewas sure I had tried to murder him, just for nothing at all. Hadley saysso too. In fact, he tells seven diff'rent yarns in as many minutes, eachone makin' me out worse than the last. 

"There!" says his mother. "Now, Zenobia, will you send for an officer?"

Nope, Zenobia wouldn't; anyway, not until she had more facts to go on. She don't deny that maybe I'm kind of a suspicious-lookin' character, and says it ain't been explained what I was doin' in there holdin'little Hadley on the rug; but she don't want to ring up the cops unlessit's a clear case. 

"You know, my dear, " she winds up with, "Hadley is quite apt to get intotrouble. "

"Zenobia Preble!" snorts Sally, her eyes blazin'. "And he your own fleshand blood! Come, precious, mother will take you home, and you shallnever, never come to this house again!"

"There, Sally, " begins Zenobia, "don't fly into a----"

"When my husband's mother chooses to insult me in her own home, " saysSally, "I hope I have spirit enough to resent it!"

Say, she had that and some left over. Inside of two minutes she'shustled little Hadley into his things, and out they sails to hercarriage, leavin' the makin's of a first-class fam'ly row all prepared. 

In the meantime Zenobia is tyin' Aunt Martha loose, and I'm standin'around waitin' to see what's goin' to happen to me next. Course, Iexpects the third degree; but she begins with Martha. 

"Now what mischief was Hadley up to this time?" she asks. 

And Martha sticks to it that it was nothing at all. He merely found thatold plant-sprayer and discovered that by unscrewing the nozzle it made afine squirt gun. To be sure, she had asked him not to use the water fromthe goldfish globe; but he just would. Also he'd insisted on locking allthe servants downstairs, and when she tried to amuse him in other wayshe'd tied her to the chair. 

But it was just Hadley's innocent fun. He hadn't harmed anyone, even ifhe did squirt a little water on the postman and a delivery boy. She hadnot minded it herself, and no one had been rude to him until I'd comechasing in and handled him so rough. That was an outrage, and Marthathought I ought to get a life sentence for it. 

"Humph!" says Zenobia, turnin' to me. "Now, young man, what have you gotto say?"

"Ah, what's the use?" says I. "You've got the whole story now. I'd dothe same again. "

"Relying on the fact that your uncle is a police captain?" says she. 

"Nah, " says I. "That was hot air. "

"There, Zenobia!" says Martha. "I told you he was a bad boy. "

"Are you?" says Zenobia. 

"Well, " says I, "that all depends on how you size me up. I ain't in thecrook class, nor I don't wear any Sunday-school medals, either. "

"Who are you?" says she. 

"Why, just Torchy, " says I. "See--torch, Torchy, " and I points to mysunset coiffure. 

"But who are your parents?" she goes on. 

"Don't own any, " says I. "I'm a double orphan and rustlin' for myself. "

"Where do you live?" says she. 

"Why, " says I, "I don't live anywhere just now. I'm movin'; but I don'tknow where to. "

"I suppose that is either impudence or epigram, " says she; "but nevermind. Perhaps you will tell me where you work?"

"I don't work at all, " says I. "I'm head office boy for the CorrugatedTrust, and it's a cinch job. "

"Indeed!" says she. "The Corrugated Trust? Let me see, who is at thehead of that concern?"

"Say, " says I, "you don't mean you never heard of Old Hickory Ellins orMr. Robert, do you?"

She kind of smiles at that; but dodges makin' any answer. 

"Well, " says I, "do I get pinched, or just given the run? Either way, I've got some baggage down by the area door that ought to be lookedafter. "

"Why, certainly, I will have it----" then she stops and looks me oversort of shrewd. "Suppose, " she starts in again, "you go and get ityourself?"

"Sure!" says I, and it ain't until I'm outside that I sees this is justher way of tryin' me out; for I has a fine chance to beat it. "Nix!"thinks I. "I might as well see this thing through and get a decision. "So back I goes with the suitcase and laundry bag. She hadn't evenfollowed me to the door. 

"Ah!" says she, lookin' up. "You weren't afraid to come back, then. Why?"

"Oh, I guess it was because I banked on your givin' me a square deal, "says I. 

That gets a grin out of her. "Thank you very much for the compliment, "says she. "I may say that the inquisition is over. However, I shouldlike to have you remain a little longer, if you care to. Won't you leaveyour things in the hall there? Your hat and overcoat too. "

"Zenobia, " says Martha, wakin' up, "surely you are not going to----"

"Precisely, " says Zenobia. "I am going to ask him to stay for dinnerwith us. Will you?"

"Yep!" says I. "I never let any free eats get by me. "

"But, " gasps Martha, "you don't know who he is?"

"Neither does he know us, " says Zenobia. "Torchy, I am Mrs. ZenobiaPreble. This is my sister, Miss Martha Hadley. She is very good, I amvery wicked, and we are both women of mature years. You will probablyfind our society rather dull; but the dinner is likely to be fairlygood. Besides, I am feeling somewhat indebted to you. "

"It's a go, " says I, "if I can have a chance to wash up first. "

"Of course, " says she. Then she gives me a key and directions how tofind a certain door on the third floor. "My son's quarters, " she goeson, "that I have kept just as he left them twenty years ago. I shallexpect you to make yourself quite at home there. "

Do I? Why, say, it's a back joint such as you might dream about: tworooms and bath across the front of the house, guns and swords and suchknickknacks on the walls, a desk, a lot of books, and even a bathrobeand slippers laid out. Say, while I was scrubbin' off some of theinkstains and smoothin' down my hair with the silver-backed brushes Ifelt like a young blood gettin' ready for a party. 

Then after awhile I strolls down to the lib'ry and makes myself to homesome more. It's a comf'table place, with lots of big easy-chairs, nicepictures on the wall, and no end of bookshelves. The old ladies hascleared out, not even lockin' up any of the curios or sendin' a maid towatch me. 

And when it comes to the feed--why, say, it's a reg'lar course dinner, such as you'd put up a dollar for at any of these high-class table dottyranches. Funny old china they had too, and a big silver coffeepot righton the table. The only bad break I makes is just at the start, when Idives into the soup without noticin' that Aunt Martha has her head downand is mumblin' something about bein' thankful. 

"Never mind, " says Mrs. Preble. "We aren't included in this, anyway. "

That begins the talk. I ain't put through the wringer, you understand, but just follows Zenobia while she goes from one thing to another, givin' her opinions of 'em and now and then callin' for mine. We gotreal chatty too, and once in awhile she stops to laugh real hearty, though I couldn't see where I'd got off any crack at all. 

Near as I can make out, Zenobia is a lively old girl for her age. She'sseen all the best Broadway shows, knows what's goin' on in town, andreads the papers reg'lar. Also it comes out that she don't follow thekind of programme you generally look for antiques to stick to. She ain'tgot any use for churches, charity institutions, society, or thesuffragettes. All of which seems to shock Sister Martha, who don't saymuch, but only shudders now and then. 

"You see, Torchy, " says Zenobia, droppin' two lumps into her demitasse, "I am an unbeliever. I don't even believe in growing old. When I hear ofother persons who have come to disbelieve in established things, nomatter what, I send for them and find out all about it across the dinnertable. We discuss art, religion, politics, goodness knows what. Wedenounce things, from the existing social order, to the tariff onstockings. My sister, who believes in everything as it is, usually takesa nap and snores. "

"Zenobia!" says Martha. 

"Oh, not in a disturbing way, " says Zenobia. "And I'm sure I almost dothe same whenever your friend the rector is here. Torchy, have you everbeen talked to about your soul?"

"Once when I drifted into a mission a guy sprung that on me, " says I. 

"Yes?" says Zenobia. "What then?"

"I told him to go chase himself, " says I. 

Hearty chuckles from Zenobia, while Sister Martha turns pale and gasps. 

Next thing I know I'm tellin' Mrs. Preble about my fallin' out withMother Sykes, and how I guess I'd better be pikin' up to engage athirty-cent room until I can draw on my reserve and locate a newboardin' place. 

And, say, what do you guess that conversation leads up to? Well, itstruck me all in a heap at the time, though I didn't let on; but Icouldn't figure out the answer until I'd had a talk with Mr. Robert nextday. 

"Say, Mr. Robert, " says I. "You don't happen to know an old party by thename of Zenobia Preble, do you?"

"I do, " says he. "It isn't exactly an accident, either. She is a cousinof my father. "

"Gee!" says I. "Cousin to the old--to the boss! Wh-e-ew!"

"Rather an original old lady, Zenobia, " says Mr. Robert. "And Iunderstand, from a talk I had with her over the 'phone early lastevening, that she was arbitrating the case of a young man who was insome danger of arrest in her home. How did it come out, Torchy?"

"Ah, say, you're on, ain't you?" says I. "Well, it was a verdict for thedefense, because I promised to do it again if I ever got the chance. "

Mr. Robert grins. "That grandson of hers is certainly a holy terror, "says he. "You and Zenobia parted friends, then?"

"Not yet, " says I. "We ain't parted at all. I'm stayin' as a trialboarder. "

"What!" says he, sittin' up. "Oh, I see. An experiment in practicalsociology, eh?"

"Maybe that's it, " says I. "Anyway, it depends on whether or not I canstand Aunt Martha. "

And when I leaves Mr. Robert he still has his mouth open. 

CHAPTER XIII

FIRST AID FOR THE MAIN STEM

Well, I ain't been adopted yet; but it's the next thing to it. Me andZenobia are gettin' to understand each other better every day. And, say, for a ripe old party, she's younger in her mind than lots of folks Iknow who ain't lived half so long. Maybe she did do her first travelin'up and down Broadway in a horse stage; but that ain't the way she wantsto cover the ground now. What do you think she springs at the dinnertable the other night? Says she's goin' to the next aviation meet andhire some one to take her up for an aëroplane ride. 

"Why, Zenobia!" says Sister Martha, so shocked her white frizzes almoststand up and wiggle. 

That's Martha's cue, all right. She don't seem to get used to Zenobia'sways, although they've been livin' together all these years. A genuine, consistent antique, Sister Martha is, who still likes to talk about thetime when Horace Greeley ran for President. Accordin' to herconversation the last real sensation that came her way was when shewent over to Brooklyn and heard Henry Ward Beecher preach. 

But even Martha ain't no worse when you get to know her. She's aharmless, well meanin' old soul, and I'm 'most beginnin' to believeshe's pretty near as pious as she thinks she is. Anyway, it ain't anySunday pose with her. She lugs her religion right through the week, holidays and all, and spreads it around even. I got it straight fromZenobia that Martha's even begun ringin' me into her goodnight prayers, along with the cook and the President. 

Also Martha has started in on what she calls my moral trainin', whichshe dopes out as havin' been neglected somethin' shameful. WheneverZenobia ain't around to interrupt, I get a Jonah story, or a Sampson andDelilah hair cuttin' yarn pumped into me, and if there ain't any cogsmissin' in her scheme I ought to be buddin' a soul before long. 

"Torchy, " says she real solemn the other night, "I hope you do not useprofane language. Do you?"

"Well, " says I, "when I was on the Sunday editor's door I did used tothink I could put over a few gingery ones; but since I've been with theCorrugated Trust I've kind of got out of practice. "

"Ah!" says she, beamin'. "That is good, very good! Your associationsare better; is that it?"

"Mainly it's on account of Mr. Ellins, " says I. "Maybe you neverhappened to hear him; but, say, you ought to be there some mornin' whenhe limps in with the gout in both feet and a hang-over grouch from theday before! Cuss! Why, after listenin' to him grow real enthusiasticonce, I got discouraged. What's the use? thinks I. "

Well, someway that gives Martha an awful jolt; for maybe you remember mytellin' how it turns out that her and Zenobia are second cousins to OldHickory. She says how she's pained and mortified beyond words to learnthat Mr. Ellins should allow his employees to hear him use suchlanguage. 

"Ah, that's all right, " says I. "As long as it ain't fired at 'em, nobody feels bad. Mostly they grins, except now and then a new ladytypewriter who squirms and turns pale. He don't whisper when he'scussin', Mr. Ellins don't. "

"Shocking!" says Sister Martha. "Does--does he do this often?"

"It all depends on how he's feelin', " says I; "but for the past week orten days he's been at it pretty reg'lar. I expect he's been havin' aworse siege than usual. "

Oh, me and Martha had a real heart to heart talk that night, and when Ifin'lly goes up to my top floor suite I leaves her fannin' herself andgaspin' for breath. But she'd asked for facts, and I'd handed 'em over. How was I to guess what was goin' to be the follow up on that?

Not expectin' anything more'n instructions about some errand or other, Iain't any disturbed when Piddie comes up to the gate desk right afterlunch next day, lookin' as stern and solemn as if he'd been sent to reada warrant. 

"Boy, " says he, "Mr. Ellins, senior, wishes to see you in his privateoffice!"

"Well, that ain't surprisin', is it, Piddie?" says I. "You don't supposewe can talk over big affairs like ours out here, do you? Keep your earoff the keyhole, too!" And with that I goes in chipper and cheerful. 

The minute I gets through the last door, though, I feels the frost inthe air. Mr. Ellins, he lets me wait long enough for the chill to strikein, while he signs a basketful of letters. Then he swings around in hisswivel chair and proceeds to size me up through them gunmetal gray eyesof his. Say, it was like standin' in front of a searchlight and under acold shower, all at once. 

"So, young man!" says he. "You have been hearing me swear, eh?"

That's enough for me. Just from that I can sketch the whole plot. Andit don't take me a month to figure out the line of talk I'm goin' touse. What's the sense in playin' for time when your blue ticket's allmade out. 

"Heard you?" says I. "Think I wear my ears full of putty?"

"Huh!" he grunts. "And do I understand that you disapprove of myprofanity?"

"Ah, who's been fillin' you up?" says I. "Why, you're an artist at it. "

"Thanks, " says he. "And I suppose you felt it your duty to inform myrelatives of the fact? Very thoughtful of you, I'm sure. "

"Don't mention it, " says I. 

"You--you're an impertinent young whelp!" says he, his cheeks gettin'purple and puffy. 

"Ah, don't mind the frills, " says I. "Get out the can. I'm fired, ain'tI?"

"No!" he shouts, bangin' his fist down on the desk. "At least, not untilI get through with you. What I want to know is why in blue belted blazesyou did it!"

"Well, " says I, "first off I guess it just naturally slipped out; then, when I saw what a hit I was makin' with Martha--why, I expect I sort ofenjoyed givin' her the details. "

Somehow, that seems to graze his funnybone, and he has a struggle tokeep a grin out of his mouth corners. "Humph!" says he. "I--I'd like tohave seen her then. So you went on to describe the general state of myhealth, did you?"

"It was you we was chattin' about, " says I. 

"Fascinating topic, I've no doubt, " he growls; "but I hardly appreciatethe attention. Understand?"

"That's breakin' on me gradual, " says I. 

"Fortunately for you, though, " he goes on, "you didn't attempt to lieout of it. By the way, why didn't you?"

"And her just after givin' you the whole game over the 'phone?" says I. "Ah, say!"

"Young man, " says he, shootin' over the quizzin' gaze, "either you aretoo blickety blinked fresh to keep, or else you're too keen to lose;hanged if I know which! But--er--well, I'll take a chance. You may goout and report to Mr. Piddie for duty. "

"It'll near break his heart, " says I. 

It does, too. I expect from what he'd heard in the private office thathe was figurin' on handin' me my hat as I was shot out and remarkin'that he knew all along it was comin' to me. Then there'd be a rollcallof new office boys, with him pickin' out one more to his taste than me. But no such luck for him. 

"Cheer up, Piddie, " says I. "I'll have the warden send you an invitationwhen they fin'lly get me right. "

Course, I don't make any squeal at the house about my narrow escape; forI knew Martha only meant it for the best. Next day Mr. Ellins don't showup at the office at all, and that evenin' Martha is better posted on hiscondition than I am. She's been busy on the wire again, this timelocatin' him at home. 

"My poor cousin, " says she, "is in a wretched state. He has beenoverworking, I fear, and seems to be a nervous wreck. That will account, I have no doubt, for his recent lapses into profanity. He feels ratherashamed of himself; but perhaps I should make allowances. What he needsis rest and quiet. Luckily, I happened to know just the place for himand was able to persuade him to go there at once. He started thisafternoon. "

It's called the Wesley Restorium, Martha says, and is run by an oldfriend of hers who used to be a missionary doctor in China. He's anawfully good man, and she's sure he'll help Mr. Ellins a lot. Besides, his place is only about fifty miles off, over in North Jersey; so Mr. Ellins could make the run easy in his limousine. 

Well, that leaves only Mr. Robert, Piddie, and me to manage theCorrugated, and we was all bearin' up under the load well enough exceptPiddie; when along about two o'clock there's a long distance call fromthe Main Stem, and a few minutes later Mr. Robert sends out for me. 

"Torchy, " says he, "you seem to be elected. The governor wants you. "

"Me?" says I. 

"Yes, " says Mr. Robert. "I don't exactly understand why. He is at asanatorium, you know, and we had arranged to send up his privatesecretary with the important mail this afternoon; but he says he wantsyou. Says you're responsible for his being there--whatever that means. "

"I'm on, " says I. "When do I start?"

There's a train at three-thirty-four; so that gives me time to chasearound to the house after a grip, then back to the office to gather up abundle of late letters, and pike for Jersey City. And at that it's fiveo'clock before I'm landed at a little flag station umpteen miles beyondnowhere. My! but the north end of Jersey has some up and down to it, though! From what I'd heard I thought the State was all meadows; buthere I am carted in a four-horse bus up the side of a hill that's twiceas tall as the Metropolitan tower. 

Say, I never saw so much country spread out all at once before--nothingbut hills and trees, and no signs of houses anywhere. Made me so blamedlonesome lookin' at it that I had to shut my eyes for a spell. And whenwe gets to the top there's a big shack like a new set of car barns, with hundreds of windows, and big wide veranda all around. It looks ashomy and cheerful as the Art Museum. The lawn is full of rocks andstumps, and the few little flowerbeds that have been laid out lookedlost and homesick. 

Pacin' up and down the verandas, like animals in a cage, was about fiftypeople, and over at one end, all by himself, looms up Old Hickory, lookin' big and ugly and disgusted with life. 

"Well!" he growls. "So you got here, eh? Hope you like it as well as Ido. Bring that mail inside. "

While he's more or less grouchy, he don't act any more like a nervouswreck than usual. I take it that he was some tired when he got up herenight before; but that he cut out dinner and turned in for a goodtwelve-hour snooze instead. Then he's had a quiet day, and I judge hewas a lot better already. 

He's just got well into his letters, when an attendant guy in a whiteduck uniform steps in and taps him on the shoulder. 

"Well?" says Old Hickory. 

"Vesper service is beginning in the chapel, sir, " says the gent. 

"Let it begin, then, " says Mr. Ellins. 

"But, " says the gent, "it is usual for guests to----"

"It isn't for me!" snaps Mr. Ellins. "You get out!"

And the gent got out. 

We could hear 'em singin' hymns and so on for half an hour; but Mr. Ellins keeps right on goin' through his mail and makin' notes on theenvelops until six o'clock, when a big gong rings. 

"Thank heaven! Dinner!" says he. "Come on, Torchy; I'm hungry enough toeat a bale of hay!" Then he's hardly got into his chair in the dinin'room before he's snapping his fingers for a waiter. "Hey!" he sings out. "Bring me a dry Martini right away, and a pint of Château Yquem with thefish. "

"Excuse me, " says the waiter, "but there isn't anything like that on thebill of fare. If it's something to drink you want, you can orderbuttermilk, which is extra. "

"Buttermilk!" snorts Old Hickory. "Say, where's the proprietor? Send himover here!"

He didn't have to call him twice; for the boss of the Restorium hadheard the row and was glidin' our way as fast as his rubber heels wouldlet him. He's a short legged, pop eyed, red faced party, wearin' cutewhite side whiskers, a black Prince Albert, and a minister's necktie. 

"Gently, gently, " says he, pattin' the air with his hands and puckeringhis mouth. "Remember to speak softly in the dining room. "

"All right, Doc, " says Mr. Ellins; "but I want a cocktail. "

"Tut, tut, brother!" says the Doc, liftin' a warnin' finger and raisin'his eyebrows. "No intoxicating liquors served here, you know. Now aglass of nice buttermilk is just what----"

"Bah! Buttermilk!" snorts Hickory. "Think I come from a dairy?"

The Doc does his best to soothe him down and fin'lly persuades him totackle his mutton broth without the Martini. It's a good enough feed;but kind of plain, about what you'd get in one of these Eighth-ave. Joints, four courses for thirty-five cents. Mr. Ellins gets left againwhen he calls for a demitasse after the tapioca pudding. Nothing doingin the coffee line. 

"Huh!" he grunts. "I suppose I may smoke, eh?"

"On the north veranda, from seven until eight-fifteen, " says the waiter. 

"Well, I'll be--blistered!" says Old Hickory. 

While he's burnin' a couple of black perfectos out on the smokereservation, I roams around the Restorium. It's furnished neat andsimple, with lots of varnished woodwork and a few framed railroad photoson the walls. In the parlor was four or five groups of women in rockin'chairs, talkin' low and doin' fancy-work. Most of the men were tiptoein'up and down the veranda. They was a stoop shouldered, dyspeptic lookin'lot. Down in the basement in a place labeled "Recreation Room, " a coupleof checker games was in progress, and four gents was shovin' weights upand down the shuffleboard. Yes, it was a perfectly good place to bequiet in. I could guess why Hickory Ellins had begun to show signs ofbein' restless. By eight o'clock he comes marchin' in and up to theoffice desk. 

"Where's the billiard room?" says he. 

"There is no billiard room, brother, " says the Doc, steppin' to thefront. "Here we have eliminated all of those things that might disturbour beautiful peace and quiet. "

"Have, eh?" grunts Hickory. "Then where can I find three others to makeup a bridge game?"

"Card playing, " says the Doc, putting his thumb and forefingerstogether, "is not allowed in the Restorium. "

"Sorrowing sisters by the sea!" remarks Mr. Ellins. "No billiards! Nocards! Say, what the merry Mithridates do you think I'm going to do withmyself from now until twelve o'clock, eh?"

"By referring to the rules of this establishment, Mr. Ellins, " says theDoc, speakin' cold and reprovin', "you will see that the generalretiring hour is fixed at nine-thirty. At nine-forty-five the gas is allturned off. "

"What!" roars Hickory. "Think you're going to put me to bed atnine-thirty?"

"You are at liberty to sit up in the dark, if you choose, " the Doc comesback at him. "Any guest who is dissatisfied with the manner in which theRestorium is conducted has the option of leaving. "

"Well, say!" says Mr. Ellins, thumpin' the desk earnest, "I amdissatisfied! Buttermilk and vesper services! Huh! Do you suppose I'vepaid two weeks in advance for such a dose? Where's your 'phone?"

With that he calls up New York, gets his chauffeur on the wire, andorders him to have the car here first thing in the morning, even if hehas to start before light. 

"And what is more, " says Mr. Ellins, walkin' back to the Doc, "I proposeto buy the rest of this hill and open a real live hotel as close to yourplace as I can put it. There'll be something going on in it all thetime, if I have to make everything free, and you can bet your lastdollar the wine list will have something besides buttermilk on it!There'll be billiard tables, bowling alleys, a dance hall, and a brassband playing all night. I'll fix your beautiful peace and quiet foryou!"

The Doc, he smiles a kind of sanctified smile and points to the clock. "In just forty-five minutes, " says he, "the lights go out. "

That's all the satisfaction Mr. Ellins gets, too; so he takes me in towand we beat it 'steen times around the verandas, him stating hisopinions of restoriums in general, Cousin Martha in partic'lar, and nowand then shootin' a sarcastic remark at me. But when he sees the othervictims begin sneakin' off one by one he growls out:

"Well, son, I suppose they'll be locking us out if we don't follow suit. Get the keys to our rooms. "

First off I thought I could have a great snooze; but it's such a blamedquiet place that I found myself wide awake, with my ear strained to seeif I couldn't hear something. After an hour or so of that, I gets up andsits by the open window; but as there ain't any moon or any streetlights, it's like starin' down a coalhole. 

I was wondering if the country was always as black as that at night, andwhat would happen to anyone that strayed out into it, when all of asudden I hears a window raised, and way down in the basement under thedining room I sees a bright light shinin' out. "Hello!" thinks I. "Someof the help must be bustin' the rules and regulations. "

By leanin' out and rubberin' I could look down into the room. And, say, the shock almost tumbled me out. For there's the Doc sittin' in hisshirtsleeves with four other gents around a green topped table decoratedwith stacks of chips. The Doc is just dealin', and before the shade ispulled down again I had time to see him reach under the lower deck andhaul up a decanter that might have been full of cold tea. 

Well, say, I don't do a thing but hustle into my clothes and chase downthe corridor to Mr. Ellins' room. Is he int'rested in the tale? He's allof that. 

"Torchy, " says he, "if you can lead me down to that game, I--I'llforgive you. Perhaps I'll do better than that. "

I used up half a box of matches findin' the way; but at last we locatedthe light comin' through the transom. 

"Good work!" he whispers. "Now you go back to bed and enjoy a longnight's rest. "

Sure I did--not. I wouldn't have missed hearin' that exchange of happygreetin's for a farm. And the way the Doc chokes up and splutters tryin'to explain things was somethin' lovely. He was gettin' himself astwisted as a pretzel, when Old Hickory breaks in. 

"That's all right, Doc, " says he. "Innocent little relaxation. Iunderstand perfectly. Now, what's the ante?"

Well, after that the conversation wasn't so excitin'; nothing but, "I'lltake three cards, " or "Raise you two more blues. " So I sneaks back andfalls into the hay once more. 

At breakfast Mr. Ellins shows up more smilin' and chipper than I'd everseen him anywhere before. He puts away three soft boiled eggs, a coupleof lamb chops, and two cups of coffee made special for him. The Doc hefollows us out to the limousine. 

"Sorry to have you go so soon, Mr. Ellins, " says he, rubbin' one handover the other, "very sorry indeed, sir. And--er--about those memorandafrom my assistants. I will see that they are redeemed, you know. "

"Those I O U's?" says Mr. Ellins. "Oh, you tell the boys I tore 'em up. Yours, too, Doctor. I had my fun out of the game. So long. "

And for the next four miles Old Hickory don't do much but gaze out onthe landscape and chuckle. 

"Was that a bluff about buildin' that hotel?" says I after awhile. 

"Well, " says Mr. Ellins, "not exactly; but I think I shall present theRestorium with a pipe organ instead. "

CHAPTER XIV

IN ON THE OOLONG

Course it was a cinch; but Piddie ain't got done wonderin' yet how I didit. I can tell that by the puzzled way he has of lookin' me over when hethinks I ain't noticin'. 

You see, we'd been havin' a quiet week at the Corrugated. This finespell of weather has braced Old Hickory up until he almost forgets howhe's cast himself for the great grouch collector. Things must have beenrunnin' smooth, too; for he can even read about the Return from Elbaplans without chuckin' the mornin' paper into the waste basket andgettin' purple behind the ears. 

Then, all of a sudden here the other afternoon, Piddie comes trottin'out of the private office all flustered up and begins pawin' excitedthrough the big bond safe. He's hardly got started at that before therecomes three rings on the buzzer for him, and he trots back to see whatthe old man wants now. Next there are hurry calls for the generalauditor and the head of the contract department, and before Mr. Ellinsgets through he's had every chief in the shop up on the carpet and put'em through the third degree. Way out by my gate I could hear him layin'down the law to 'em, and they comes out lookin' wild and worried. 

Which don't get me excited any at all. I worked in the newspaper officetoo long and saw too many Sunday editions go to press for that. So whenI hears him yell for me I don't jump over the desk and get goose fleshup the back. I keeps right on snappin' rubber bands at the spring waterbottle until he's shouted a couple more times. Then I winks at the rowof lady typists and strolls in, calm and easy. 

"Yes, sir?" says I. 

"See here, boy!" says he. "Do you happen by any chance to know wherethat son of mine might be found at this moment?"

"Mr. Robert?" says I. "Nix. "

"No, of course you don't!" says Old Hickory, glarin' at me. "No onearound this precious asylum for undeveloped cerebellums seems to knowanything they ought to. Bah!"

"Yes, sir, " says I. 

"Don't grin at me that way!" he snaps. "Get out! No, stay where you are!If you don't know where Robert is, where do you think he might befound?"

"Tried any of his clubs?" says I. 

He had, all of 'em. Also he'd had him paged through four hotel grillrooms and called up three brokers' offices. 

"Well, if he ain't havin' a late lunch, or playin' billiards, orwatchin' the stock board, I give it up, " says I. "Maybe you've noticedthat Mr. Robert ain't been in many afternoons lately. "

"Huh! Perhaps I haven't, though!" grunts Old Hickory. "But this time itis important that he should be here. Young man, you seem to have lesswool on your wits than most of the office force; so I am going toconfide to you that unless we find Robert before four-thirty o'clockthis afternoon the Corrugated Trust Company will lose a lot of money. "

"Oh, if it's a case of savin' the next dividend, " says I, "I'll takeanother think. I expect you asked for him at the house?"

"He was there at one-fifteen and left twenty minutes later, " says Mr. Ellins. 

"Yes; but what kind of clothes was he wearin'?" says I. 

"Clothes!" snorts out Old Hickory. "What the blithering----"

"Lemme ask his man, " says I, grabbin' the desk 'phone. "Plaza--yes, Plaza, double O double three sixty-one. Sure! You got it. Say, Mr. Ellins, that butler of yours don't burn the carpet movin' fast, does he?He must----Hello! I want to talk to Walters. Ah, never mind who I am, switch him on!" And inside of two minutes I have the report. "Frock coatand silk lid, " says I. "See? Society date. "

"Huh!" says the old man. "That settles it. He's tagging around afterthat young lady violinist again. Might have guessed; for since she'scome back from Paris he has taken about as much interest in business asa cat does in astronomy. But to-morrow morning we'll----"

"Say, " I breaks in, "if it's a case of young lady, why not locate herand then scout for Mr. Robert in the neighborhood? That ought to beeasy. "

"Think so?" says he. "Well, young man, you have my permission to tacklethe job. Her name is Inez Webster. I don't know where she lives, or withwhom she's staying; but she's somewhere in New York. Now, how will youbegin?"

"By rubberin' at Mr. Robert's date pad, " says I. 

"Good!" says Old Hickory. "No one else thought of that, " and he leadsthe way in and unlocks Mr. Robert's rolltop. "Now what do thosescratches mean?"

"I. W. 2:15, " says I, readin' it off. "The arrow points to Inez. He mustbe with her now. "

"Wherever that is!" growls Mr. Ellins. "Go on. "

"Say, lemme think a minute, " says I, slippin' into the swing chair anddoin' the Sherlock gaze at the desk. 

"Oh, certainly!" says he, snappy and sarcastic. "Take a nap over it!Plenty of time!" and with that he pads back into his office and slamsthe door. 

Now I didn't like pawin' through the pigeon-holes or drawers; but when Ihappens to glance at the waste basket I feels more at home. In a jiffy Ihas it dumped on the rug. There was an empty cigarette box, the usualcollection of circulars, a dozen torn business letters, and so on. Itlooked like a hopeless hunt, too, until I runs across this invitationcard announcin' that the Misses Pulsifer will be at home fromtwo-fifteen until five-thirty. There's a Fort Washington Road address, and down in one corner it says "music. " Also to-day's the day. 

"Whoop!" says I, stowin' away the card. "Me for the Misses Pulsifers' ona long shot. Hey, Mr. Ellins!" I shouts, stickin' my head in the door. "Can I draw two bones for expense money? I'm on the trail. "

"The blazes you are!" says he. 

"Yep, " says I. "Mebbe it's a false scent; but if I find him what's themessage?"

"Just ask Robert, " says he, "if it has occurred to him that those P. K. & Q. Contract copies have got to be filed with the bonding company thisafternoon. That's all. "

"Right!" says I. "P. K. & Q. Contracts. I'm off. "

Ever get as far up into the northwest corner of the island as FortWashington Road? Then you know how many blocks it is from the nearestsubway station. Not havin' time for a half-hour stroll, I takes aBroadway express, jumps it at 157th, hunts up a taxi, and turns down thered flag. 

"Now don't try zigzaggin' around to roll up mileage, " says I to theshuffer; "but beat it straight there. "

Some swell places up in that neck of Manhattan, what? Why, some of themfolks has so much back yard they keep their own cow. When we rolls inthrough a pair of big stone gates I begin to suspect that the MissesPulsifers was lady plutes for fair, and the size of the house had mestunned. 

"I'm swell lookin' front door comp'ny, I am, " thinks I, handin' over adollar thirty to the taxi pirate and paradin' in across the red carpet. "Now what is it I tell the butler when he pushes out his tray?"

All the guard they has on the door, though, is a French maid, and whenshe starts to look me over suspicious I shoves the invitation card ather. 

"Say, Marie, " says I, "where's the doin's?"

"Pardon?" says she. "What you wish?"

"Ah, where do they keep the music?" says I. 

"Ze musicale?" says she. "It is commence. S-s-s-sh!" and she points downthe hallway. 

"Yes, I was afraid I'd be late, " says I. "Glad they didn't wait. I'llsneak into a back seat. "

Did I? Well, say, I didn't know what I was runnin' into; for as I pushesthrough some draperies I finds myself on the side lines of the biggestherd of girls I ever saw collected in one room before. Why, there wasrows and rows of 'em, all in white dresses, and the minute I steps inabout two hundred pairs of eyes revolves my way. 

Talk about jumpin' into the limelight! I felt like I'd wandered out onthe stage while the big scene was goin' on. Then comes the giggles, andbusiness with the elbows of passin' the nudge along. They all forgetswhat's doin' up on the platform by the piano and pays strict attentionto me. Blush? Say, I'll bet my ears ain't got back their reg'lar coloryet!

Seemed like my feet was stuck to the floor, too. Maybe it was an hour Istood there, and maybe it was only a minute; but at last I takes onewild look around over that girl convention and then I backs out. I'dseen him, though. Way over by an open window on the other side was Mr. Robert, one of the four men in that whole crowd. So out the front door Irushes and then tiptoes around the veranda until I came to him. 

And he wa'n't gazin' around watchin' for casual butters-in. Not Mr. Robert! All he's seein' is the slim young lady standin' up on theplatform with the violin tucked under her chin. You couldn't blame himmuch, either; for, while I ain't any judge of the sort of music she wasteasin' out of the strings, I'll say this much: The way she was doin' itwas well worth watchin'. The swing of that elbow of hers, and theIsadora Duncan sway of her shoulders as she hits the high notes sure didhave some class to it. He's so busy followin' her motions that he don'teven know when I leans in within six inches of him and whispers. So Ihas to give him the gentle prod. 

"Eh!" says he, whirlin' around. "Why, what the--Torchy!"

"Uh-huh, " says I. "Crawl out backwards, can't you?"

"Wha--what's that!" says he, whisperin' sort of husky. 

"You got to do it, " says I. "I was sent up special to get you. "

"Why, what's the matter?" says he. 

"P. K. & Q. Contracts, " says I. "Did you file 'em yet?"

"By Jove, no!" he groans under his breath. "I--I forgot. "

"Then it's a case of beat it, " says I. 

"But--but I can't!" says Mr. Robert. "I can't possibly leave now, rightin the middle of----"

"That's so, " says I. "She's lookin' this way now. But where'd you stowthe contracts? Remember that, do you?"

"Why, of course, " says he. "Third left hand drawer of my desk, in adocument box. "

"'S enough!" says I. "I'll 'phone down and tell 'em. They'll fix it up. Don't move; she's lookin' your way again. "

"Wait!" says he, behind his hand. "I must see you before you go back, after the concert is over. Wait for me in the garden. "

"In the garden, Maud, it is, " says I, and with that I slides back to thefront entrance and gets Marie to lead me to the 'phone booth. 

Well, I'd got the joint all sized up now. It's one of these swellboardin' schools for girls, where they take piano lessons and areexposed to French and the German measles. And, now my knees has quitwabblin' and I was safe out of the hall, I was almost glad I'd come upand give the young ladies such a treat. I couldn't help admirin' Mr. Robert's nerve, though; for he must have known what he was lettin'himself in for when he follows Inez up there. But when they get it thatbad there's no tellin' how reckless they'll be. 

If it had been all the same to Mr. Robert, my next move would have beento get away from the spot as quick as my feet would let me; but so longas he'd assigned me a waiting part that's what it had to be. WithMarie's help I finds the garden out at the back of the house and makesmyself comf'table on a rustic seat. It's a flossy garden scene, allright, with winding paths, and flowerbeds, and cute little summerhouses, and all sorts of bushes in bloom. Now and then I could hearmusic driftin' out, and when a piece was through the hand clappin' wouldcommence, like a shower on a tin roof. 

Say, it had sittin' behind the brass rail in the office beat to a froth, and I was enjoyin' it, lazy and comf'table, with my feet up on the benchand my head back; when all at once there's a big spasm of applause, thedoors openin' on the back veranda are swung open, everybody startschatterin' together, there's a swish and a rustle and a clatter of highheels; and the next thing I knew the whole blamed garden was full of'em. 

Girls! Say, all the fifty-seven varieties was represented, --tall ones, short ones, thin ones, plump ones, and plain fatties. There wasaristocratic brunettes, and dimpled blondes, and every shade between. They ranged from fourteen up, and they sported all kinds of hairdressin', from double pleated braids to the latest thing in turbanswirls. And there was little Willie, hemmed in by a twelve-foot wall onthree sides and solid squads of girls on the fourth!

First they began sailin' by in groups of twos and threes and fours, allgivin' me the goo-goo stare and snickerin'. Honest, you'd thought I wassome kind of a humorous curiosity, specially exhibited for the occasion. Ain't they the limit, though? And the whispered remarks they passed!"Why, Madge! Aren't you just killing! Whose brother did you say youthought----Yes, and so curly, too!"

I try to forget that red thatch of mine most of the time; but this wasno place to practice bein' absent minded. It didn't seem to make anydiff'rence whether I put my hat on or left it off, they were wise to theruddy hair. All I could do was to squeeze myself into one corner of theseat and pretend not to notice 'em. What I wanted most was to stand upand holler for Mr. Robert. Why in blazes didn't he show up, anyway?

I'd been enjoyin' this gen'ral inspection stunt for four or fiveminutes, when maids begun circulatin' among the mob with trays ofsandwiches and plates of chicken salad, and every last one of 'emstopped at my station. 

"No, thanks, " says I. Think I wanted to give a food destroyin'performance before an audience like that? I was just wavin' away thefourth offer of picnic grub when I hears a little squeal come from abunch of new recruits, and when I looks up to see what's happeningnow--well, you'd never guess. It's Miss Vee! You know, the pink andwhite queen I was tellin' you about meetin' at the swell dancin' classwhere I subbed for Izzie in the cloakroom and was invited out to jointhe merry throng. 

She ain't got the ballroom costume on, of course; but I'd know them biggray eyes and that straw colored hair and that sweet pea complexion inany disguise. For a second she stands there gazin' at me sort ofsurprised and puzzled, like she didn't know whether to give me the nodor just put up her chin and sail by. If I could I'd looked the otherway, so's to give her a chance to duck recognizin' me; but I couldn't doanything but stare back. And the next thing I knew she's comin' straightfor me. 

"Why, Torchy!" says she, sort of purry and confidential. "You!" Andblamed if she wa'n't holdin' out both hands. 

Well, say, you can't imagine what a diff'rence that makes to me. It waslike fallin' off a roof and landin' in a hammock. What did I care forthat push of young lady fluffs then?

"Sure thing, it's me, " says I, grabbin' the hands before she couldchange her mind. "Say, have a seat, won't you, Miss Vee?"

"Oh, then you haven't forgotten?" says she. 

"Me? Forget?" says I. "Say, Miss Vee, I'll keep right on rememberin'that spiel we had together until breathin' goes out of fashion--and thensome! Gee! but I'm glad you happened along!"

"But how is it, " says she, "that you----"

"Special commission, " says I. "I'm waitin' here for Mr. Robert Ellins. "

"Oh!" says she. "And have you had some salad and sandwiches?"

"No; but I'm ready for 'em now, " says I. "That is, if----Say, you don'tmind doin' this, do you?"

"Why should I?" says she. 

"Oh, well, " says I, "you see I ain't--well, I'm kind of outclassed here, and I didn't know but some of the other girls might----"

"Let them dare!" says Miss Vee, straightenin' up and glancin' aroundhaughty. My! but she's a thoroughbred! There was one group standin' alittle way off watchin' us; but that look of Miss Vee's scattered 'em asthough she'd turned the hose on them. Next minute she was smilin'again. "You see, " she goes on, sittin' close, "I'm not much afraid. "

"You're a hummer, you are!" says I, lookin' her over approvin'. 

"There, there!" says she. "I see that you must have something to eatright away. Here, Hortense! There! Now you'll have a cup of tea, won'tyou?"

"Anything you pass out goes with me, " says I, "even to tea. "

It was my first offense in the oolong line, and, honest, I couldn't tellnow how it tasted; but I knew all about how Vee handles a cup andsaucer, though, and the way she has of lookin' at you over the rim. Say, she's the only girl I ever knew who could talk more'n a minute to afeller without the aid of giggles. There's some sense to what she has tosay, too, and all the way you can tell whether she's joshin' or not isby watchin' her eyes. And me, I wa'n't losin' any tricks. 

She tells me all about how she's been to school here ever since she wasa little girl. Seems she's as shy on parents as I am; but she has anaunt that she lives with between school terms. This is her finishin'year, and as soon as the final doin's are over she and Aunty are due tosail for Europe. 

"Coming back in September?" says I. 

"Oh, no indeed!" says she. "Perhaps not for two years. "

"Gee!" says I. 

"Well?" says she, and I finds myself lookin' square into them big grayeyes of hers. 

"Oh, nothing, " says I; "only--only it sounds a long ways off. And, say, you don't happen to have a spare photo, do you, maybe one taken in thatdress you wore the night of the ball?"

"Silly!" says she. "But suppose I have?"

"Why, " says I, --"why, I thought--well, say, it wouldn't do any harm toleave my new address, would it! That's the number, care of Mrs. ZenobiaPreble. "

"Zenobia!" says she. "Why, I know who she is. Do you live with----"

"I'm half adopted already, " says I. "Bully old girl, ain't she? And say, Miss Vee----"

It was just about then I had the feelin' that some one was tryin' tobutt in on this two-part dialogue of ours, and as I looks up, sureenough there's Mr. Robert, with his eyes wide and his mouth half open, watchin' us. 

"Well, it's all over, " says I. "Mr. Robert's waitin' for me. Good luckand--and----Oh, what's the use? Give my regards to Europe, will you?Good-by!" And with that we shakes hands and I breaks away. 

"I don't wish to seem curious, " says Mr. Robert, as we walks out to hiscab, "but--er--is this something recent?"

"Not very, " says I. "We've met before. "

"Then allow me, " says he, "to congratulate you on your good taste. "

"Thanks!" says I. "Same to you; and I ain't got so much on you at that, eh?"

We drops the subject there; but Mr. Robert seems so pleased oversomething or other that we'd gone twenty blocks before he remembers whatbrought me up. 

"Oh, by the way, " says he, "I suppose there'll be no end of row about myforgetting to send down those contracts. The Governor was wild, wasn'the?"

"He was wild, all right, " says I, "without knowin' whether you'd forgot'em or not. "

"But when you 'phoned him, " says Mr. Robert, "of course he----"

"Ah, say!" says I. "Do I look like a trouble hunter? I 'phonedPiddie--told him to sneak 'em out, send 'em down, and keep his mouthshut. All you got to do is act innocent. "

Never mind the hot air Mr. Robert passes out after that. What tickles memost is the package that came for me yesterday by messenger. I finds iton my plate at dinner time; so both the old ladies was on hand when Iopens it. 

"Why, Torchy!" says Aunt Martha, lookin' at me shocked and scandalized. "A young lady's picture!"

"Yep, " says I. "Ain't she a dream, though?"

And, say, Martha'd been lecturin' me yet if it hadn't been for Zenobiabreakin' in. 

"Do remember, Martha, " says she, "that you were not always sixty-threeyears old, and that once----Why, bless me! This must be Alicia Vernon'schild. Is there a name on the back? There is! Verona Ashton Hemmingway, heiress to all that is left of poor Dick's fortune. She's a beauty, justlike her mother. "

"She's all of that, " says I. 

It didn't make any diff'rence to Aunt Martha who she was, though. Shedidn't think it right for young ladies to give away their pictures toyoung men. She was for askin' me how long I'd known Miss Vee, and----

"There, now, Martha, " said Zenobia, "suppose we don't. "

That's how it is I can guess who it was blew themselves for a corkin'big silver frame, and put Vee's picture in it, and stood it on mybureau. Course, Vee's on her way to foreign parts now, and there's notellin' when she's comin' back. Besides, there ain't anything in it, anyway. But somehow that picture in the silver frame seems to helpsome. 

CHAPTER XV

BATTING IT UP TO TORCHY

Nobody had to point him out to me. I hadn't been holdin' down the chairbehind the brass gate more'n two days before I knew who was the livingjoke on the Corrugated Trust Company's force. It's Uncle Dudley, ofcourse. 

And, say, my coppin' that out don't go to prove I'm a Mr. Cute. Anymush-head could have picked him after one glimpse of the old vintagePrince Albert, the back number silk lid, and the white Chaunceys hewears on each side of his face. That get-up would be good for a quietsmile even over in Canarsie; but when you come to plant it in the midstof such a sporty aggregation as the Corrugated carries on thepayroll--why, you've got the comic chuckles comin' over fast. 

"Say, Piddie, " says I the second morning, after watchin' it blow in, "who's the seed, eh?"

"That?" says Piddie. "Oh, that's old Dudley. "

"Does he wear the uniform reg'lar, " says I, "or is he celebratin' someanniversary?"

And Piddie almost allows himself to grin as he explains how that's thesame costume Dudley has come down to work in every day for the lastfifteen years. 

"Well, it's a flossy outfit, all right, " says I. "What is he, one of thedirectors?"

No, he wa'n't. He's some sort of subassistant auditor with a salary ofeighteen per. You know the kind--one of these deadwood specimens thatstand a show of gettin' the prunin' hook every time there's a shake-up. Most every office has a few of 'em, hangin on like last year's oakleaves in the park; but it ain't often they can qualify as comicsupplements. 

Not that Uncle Dudley tries to be humorous. He's the quietest, meekestold relic you ever saw, slidin' in soft and easy with his hat off, andwalkin' almost as though he had his shoes in his hand. But the fadedumbrella under one arm and the big buttonhole bouquet he always wearsputs him in the joke book class without takin' the face lambrequins intoaccount at all. 

Can I let all that get by me without passin' out some josh? You can seeme, can't you? Never mind all the bright and cunnin' remarks I sprung onUncle Dudley now; but for awhile there I made a point of puttin' oversomething fresh every day. Why, it was a cinch!

All the comeback I ever got out of him, though, was that batty oldsmile of his, kind of sad and gentle, as if I was remindin' him of timesgone by. And there ain't a lot of satisfaction in that, you know. Now, Ican chuck the giddy persiflage at Piddie day in and day out, and enjoydoin' it, because it always gets him so wild. Also there's more or lessthrill to slippin' the gay retort across to Old Hickory Ellins now andthen, because there's a giddy chance of gettin' fired for it. But to rubit into a non-resister like Uncle Dudley--well, what's the use?

So after awhile I cut it out altogether, leavin' him for such amateurcut-ups as Izzy Budheimer and Flannel Haggerty to practice on. Thenlittle by little me and old Dudley got more or less chummy, what with mesteerin' him around to my fav'rite dairy lunch joint and all that. And, say, we must have been a great pair, sittin' side by side in thearmchairs, puttin' away sweitzer sandwiches and mugs of chickory blend;him in his tall lid, and with his quiet, old timy manners, and me--well, I guess you get the tableau. 

I used to like hearin' him talk, he uses such a soothin', genteel brandof conversation; nothing fancy, you know, but plain, straightaway goods. Mostly he tells me about his son, who's livin' out in Californiasomewhere and is just branchin' out in the cement block buildin'business. Son is messin' in politics more or less too; mixin' it upwith the machine, and gettin' the short end of the returns every trip. But it's on account of this reform stunt of his that the old gent seemsto be so proud of him, not appearin' to care whether he ever got electedto anything or not. 

He don't say so much about the married daughter that he lives with overin Jersey; but I don't think much about that until after I've let himtow me over to dinner once and met Son in Law Bennett. He's a flashyproposition, this young Mr. Bennett is, havin' an interest in a curbbrokerage firm that rents window space on Broad-st. And has desk roomdown on William. Let him tell it, though, and, providin' some of hisdeals go through, he's goin' to have Morgan squealin' for help beforethe year is out. 

And I find that at home Uncle Dudley is rated somewhere between thefam'ly cat and the front doormat. Mr. Bennett don't exactly gag the oldman and lock him in the cellar. He ignores him when he can, and when hehas to notice him he makes it plain that he's standin' the disgrace aswell as he can. 

"So you came over with the old sport, did you?" says Bennett to me. "Batty old duffer, eh? That comes of being a dead one for so long. Manages to hang on with the Corrugated, though, don't he? He'd better, too! I'm not running any old folks' home here. "

But it wa'n't to show off how he stood with his son in law that UncleDudley had lugged me along. He'd got so used to bein' dealt out for atwospot that he didn't seem to mind. He didn't claim to be anything moreeven at the office. 

It's his flower garden, out back of the house, that Uncle Dudley had gotme 'way out there to see; and, while I ain't any expert on that line ofdisplays, I should say this posy patch of his had some class to it. Anyway, seein' it, and findin' out how he rolls off the mattress atsunrise every mornin' to tend it, lets me in for a new view of him. It'sthis little garden patch and the son out West that makes life worthlivin' for him, in spite of Son in Law Bennett. 

"Say, Dudley, " says I, "why don't you work a combination of the two; goout where you can raise roses all winter, if the dope these railroadads. Sling out is straight, and be with your son too?"

"I--I can't do that, just yet, " says he, sort of hesitatin'. "You see, he hasn't seen me for twelve years, and since then I have--er--well, I've been slipping backward. He doesn't know what a failure I've made oflife, and if I gave up here and went on to him--why----"

"I'm on, " says I. "He'd spot you for one of the down-and-outers. Butyou do get it rubbed in here good and plenty, don't you?"

"From Bennett?" says he. "Oh, he is right, I suppose. He knows howuseless I am. But we cannot all succeed, can we? Some of us must stay atthe bottom and prop the ladder. "

One thing about Uncle Dudley, he had no whine comin'. He takes it allmeek and cheerful, and so far as I could make out he's most as usefularound the office as a lot of others that gets chesty whenever theythink what would happen to the concern if they should be sick for aweek. Anyway, there's frequent calls for old Dudley to straighten outthis or that; but somehow he never seems to get credit for bein' muchmore than a sort of a walkin' copybook that remembers what other peopledon't want to lumber up their valuable brains with. Maybe it's the whitemud guards, or his habit of lettin' anyone boss him around, that keepshim down. 

And I expect things would have gone on that way, until he either droppedout or got the blue envelope some payday, if it hadn't been for this lidliftin' business up at Albany. Course, you've read how they uncoveredfirst one lot of grafters and then another, and fin'lly, with that lastswipe of the muck rake, got the Corrugated rung into the mess? And, say, anyone would think, from some of the papers, that we was all a bunch ofcrooks down here, spendin' our time feedin' wads of hundred-dollar billsto the yellow dog. Maybe it don't stir up Mr. Robert some thorough, though!

"Why, " I heard him say to the old man, "it's a beastly outrage, that'swhat it is! All the fellows at the club are chaffing me about it, youknow. And besides it's disturbing business frightfully. Look at thetumble our shares took yesterday! I say, Governor, we must send out adenial. "

"Huh!" growls Old Hickory. "Who cares a blinkety blanked blank what theysay we did? Let 'em prove it!"

Then the next day them checks was sprung on the investigatin' committee, and it looked as though they'd made out their case against theCorrugated. Perhaps there wa'n't doin's on the seventeenth floor thatmornin'! Clear out where I sat I could hear the boss callin' for firstone man and then another, and Piddie is turkeyin' in and out so excitedhe don't know whether he's on duty or runnin' bases. Once, when he stopsto lean against the spring-water bottle and wipe his dewy brow, I slipsup behind and taps him quick on the shoulder. 

"Ye-e-e-es, sir!" says he, before he sees who it is. 

"Never mind, Piddie, " says I. "I was goin' to ask you 'Guilty or notguilty?' But what's the use? Anyone can see it was you that did it. "

"You--you impudent young sauce box!" he begins. "How dare you----"

"Ah, save that for the subpoena server, " says I. "He'll be in hereafter you in a minute. And, say, my guess is that you'll get about tenyears on the rockpile. "

When the special directors' meetin' gets under way, though, and the bigguns of the Corrugated law force got on the job, there was less noiseand more electricity in the air. Honest, with all that tiptoein' andwhisperin' and serious looks bein' passed around, I didn't even have thegall to guy one of the new typewriter girls. Kind of gets on yournerves, a thing of that kind does, and if a squad of reserves hadmarched in and pinched the whole outfit, I shouldn't have been so muchsurprised. 

Right in the midst of it too there comes my three rings on the buzzer, and in I sneaks where they're holdin' the inquest. Say, they're allsittin' around the big mahogany directors' table, with the old man atthe head, lookin' black and ugly, and grippin' a half smoked cigar buttbetween his teeth. I could see at a glance they hadn't thrown any scareinto him yet. He was just beginning to fight, that's all. 

"Boy, " says he, "bring in Dudley. "

"Yes, sir, " says I. 

But, say, my heels dragged some as I went out. Course I didn't know whatthey wanted of the old boy; but it didn't look to be such a wild guessthat they'd picked him to play the goat part. I finds him perched up onhis stool, calm and serene, workin' away on the ledgers as industriousas if nothin' special was goin' on. 

"Dudley, " says I, "are you feelin' strong?"

"Why, Torchy, " says he, "I am feeling about as usual, thank you. "

"Well, brace yourself then, " says I; "for there's rough goin' ahead. You're wanted in on the carpet. "

"Me?" says he. "Mr. Ellins wants me?"

"Uh-huh, " says I, "him and the rest of 'em. But don't let 'em put anyspell on you. It's your cue now to forget the meek and lowly business. Iknow you ain't strong for bluffin' through a game; but for the love ofsoup put up a front to-day!"

Dudley, he only smiles and shakes his head. Then off he toddles, wearin'his old ink-stained office coat and even keepin' on the green eye-shade. 

Well, I don't know how long they had him on the grill; but it couldn'thave been more'n half an hour, for along about three o'clock I strollsinto the audit department, and there's old Dudley back on his perchwritin' away again. 

"Say, are you it?" says I. 

[Illustration: WE MUST HAVE BEEN A GREAT PAIR. ]

"Why, how is that?" says he. 

"Did they tie anything to you?" says I. "You know--con you into takin'the blame, or anything like that?"

"Blame for what?" says he. "I don't believe I understand. But nothing ofthe sort was mentioned. I was merely given some instructions about mywork. "

"Oh!" says I. "That's all, eh? And you've gone right at it, have you?"

"No, " says he. "The fact is, Torchy, I am writing out my resignation. "

"What! Quittin'?" says I. "Say, don't you see what a hole that puts youin? Why, it makes you the goat for fair! If you do that you'll need bailinside of forty-eight hours--and you won't get it. Look here, Dudley, take my advice and tear that up. "

"But I can't, Torchy, " says he, "really, I can't. "

"Why not?" says I. "You've got a couple of hands, ain't you? And what'llyou do for another job if you chuck this one? Say, why in blazes are youso anxious to take your chances between Sing Sing and the bread line?"

He's there with the explanation, all right, and here's the way itstands: Uncle Dudley has been called on because his partic'lardouble-entry trick is to keep the run of the private accounts. All theywant him to do is to take descriptions of a couple of checks, dig upthe stubs, and juggle his books so the record will fit in with a nicenew set of transactions that's just been invented for the purpose. 

"But what checks?" says I. "The five thousand plunkers to Mutt & Mudd?"

"Why, yes, " says he. "How did you know?"

"Ah, how did I----Say, Dudley, ain't you been readin' the paperslately?" says I. 

Would you believe it? He don't know any more about what's in the airthan a museum mummy knows of Lobster Square. This little private cyclonethat's been turnin' the office upside down ain't so much as ruffled hiswhiskers. Checks are checks to him, and these special trouble makersdon't give him any chills up the back at all. He's been told, though, touse the acid bottle on his books and write in a new version. 

"Well, why not do it?" says I. "What's that to you?"

"Why, don't you see, " says he, "it would be making a false entry, and--I--I----Well, I've never done such a thing in my life, Torchy, andI can't begin now. "

And, say, what do you know about that, eh? Just a piece of phonybookkeepin' that he don't even have to put his name to, his job gone ifhe don't follow orders, and him almost to the age limit anyway, withSon in Law Bennett ready to shove him on the street the minute he getsthe sack!

"Do you mean it?" says I. 

He puts his signature to the resignation and hands it over for me toread. 

"Say, Dudley, " says I, lookin' him up and down, "this listens to me likea bughouse play of yours; but I got to admit that you do it sporty. There's no ocher streak in you. "

"I hoped you would understand, " says he. "In the circumstances, it wasall I could do, you see. "

"What I see plainer'n anything else, " says I, "is that if this goesthrough your career is bugged to the limit. When do you want this handedin?"

"As soon as possible, " says he. "I suppose I ought to resign at once. "

"Resign!" says I. "You'll be lucky if the old man don't have you chuckedthrough the window. Better be waitin' down in the lower corridor when Ispring this on Mr. Ellins. "

Nothin' of that kind for Uncle Dudley, though. He starts straightenin'up his desk as I goes out, as calm as though he was house cleanin' for avacation. 

And while I'm tryin' to make up my mind how to deliver this document tothe main stem and duck an ambulance ride afterwards, the directors'meetin' breaks up. So I finds Old Hickory alone in his private officeand slips it casual on the pad in front of him. 

"Here, what's this?" he snorts, callin' me back as he opens up thesheet. "Eh? Dudley! Resigns, does he! What, that dried up, goat faced, custard brained, old----Say, boy; ask him what the grizzly grindstoneshe means by----"

"I did, " says I, "and, if you want to know, he's quittin' because he'stoo straight to cook up the books the way you told him. "

"Cook up the books!" gasps Old Hickory, gettin' raspb'ry tinted in theface and displayin' neck veins like a truck horse. "He's been welshing, has he? Perhaps he'd like to turn State's witness? Well, by the greatsizzling skyrockets, if that's his trick, I'll give him enough of----"

"Excuse me, Mr. Ellins, " I breaks in, "but you're slippin' your clutch. Tricks! Why, he ain't even wise to what you want him to do it for. Allhe knows is that it's crooked, and he renigs on a general proposition. And, say, when a man's as straight as that, with the workhouse starin'him in the face, he's too valuable to lose, ain't he?"

"Wha-a-at?" gurgles Old Hickory. 

"Besides, " says I, hurryin' the words to get 'em all out before anyviolent scene breaks loose, "knowin' all he does about them Mutt & Muddchecks, and with what he don't know about the case, it wouldn't behardly safe to have him roamin' the streets, would it? Now I leave it toyou. "

Say, I was lookin' Old Hickory right in the eye, ready to dodge theinkstand or anything else, while I was puttin' that over, and for aminute I thought it was comin' sure. But while he can get as hot underthe collar as anyone I ever saw, and twice as quick, he don't go clearoff his nut any of the time. 

"Young man, " says he, calmin' down and motionin' me to a chair, "asusual, you seem to be more or less well informed on this matteryourself. Now let's have the rest of it. "

And just like that, all of a sudden, it's batted up to me. So I lets itcome, with all the details about Uncle Dudley's frosty home life, andthe reformer son out West that still thinks father is makin' good. Hesits there and listens to every word too. Not that he comes in with thesympathetic sigh, or shows signs of being troubled by mist in the eyecorners. He just throws in an occasional grunt now and then and drumshis fat finger-tips on the chair arm. 

"Huh!" says he. "Babes and sucklings! But I've had worse advice that hascost me a lot more. Well, I suppose an old fool like that is dangerousto have drifting around. But I don't want him here just now, either. Um-m-m! Where did you say this son of his lived?"

"Just out of Los Angeles, " says I. 

"All right, " says Old Hickory. "Tell him he goes west Tuesday astraveling auditor to our second vice president. He'll bring up at LosAngeles about the middle of the month--and about that time it may happenthat he'll be retired on full pay. But I'll keep this resignation, as acuriosity. "

Now don't ask me to describe how old Dudley takes it; for when he getsthe full partic'lars of the decision it near keels him over. And whatpart of it do you say tickles him most? That the books don't have to bejuggled!

"It wasn't like Mr. Ellins to countenance an act of that sort, not inthe least, " says he, "and I am very glad that he has changed his mind. "

"Say, Dudley, " says I, "you're a wonder, you are. "

And it was all I could do to keep from askin' him if he thought he ownedthe only bottle of ink eradicator there was in New York. 

Do I know who did fix up them entries? Well, by the nervous motions of acertain party next mornin', I could give a guess. 

"Piddie, " says I, "if they ever get you on the stand, you want to wearinterferin' pads between your knees, so they won't hear the bonesrattle. "

CHAPTER XVI

THROWING THE LINE TO SKID

Say, this is twice I've been let in wrong on Skid Mallory. Remember him, don't you? Well, he's our young college hick that I helped steer upagainst Baron Kazedky when he landed that big armor plate order. Didthey make Skid a junior partner for that, or paint his name on a privateoffice door? Not so you'd notice it. Maybe they was afraid a suddenboost like that would make him dizzy. But they promotes him to the salesdepartment and adds ten to his pay envelope. I was most as tickled overit as Mallory was, too. 

"Didn't I tell you?" says I. "You're a comer, you are! Why, I expect inten or a dozen years more you'll be sharin' in the semi-annuals andridin' down to the office in a taxi. "

"Perhaps I may, Torchy--in ten or a dozen years, " says he, kind of slowand sober. 

I could guess what he was thinking of then. It was the girl, that sweetyoung thing that Brother Dick towed in here along last winter, someSenator's daughter that Skid had got chummy with when he was doin' hisgreat quarterback act and havin' his picture printed in the sportin'extras. 

"How's that affair comin' on?" says I; for I ain't heard him mention herin quite some time. 

"It's all off, " says he, shruggin' them wide shoulders of his. "That is, there never was anything in it, you know, to begin with. "

"Oh, there wa'n't, eh?" says I. "Forgot all about that picture you usedto carry around in the little leather case, have you?"

Skid, he flushes up a bit at that, and one hand goes up to his leftinside pocket. Then he laughs foolish. "It isn't I who have forgotten, "says he. 

"Oh-ho!" says I. "Well, I wouldn't have thought her the kind to shiftsudden, when she seemed so----"

But Mallory gives me the choke off sign, and as we walks up Broadway hegradually opens up more and more on the subject until I've got a fairmap of the situation. Seems that Sis ain't exactly set him adriftwithout warnin'. He'd sort of helped cut the cable himself. She'd begunby writin' to him every week, tellin' him all about the lively seasonshe was havin' in Washington, and how much fun she was gettin' out oflife. She even put in descriptions of her new dresses, and some of herdance orders, and now and then a bridge score, or a hand painted placecard from some dinner she'd been to. 

And Skid, thinkin' it all over in the luxury of his nine by ten boudoir, got to wonderin' what attractions along that line he could hold out to ayoung lady that was used to blowin' in more for one new spring lid thanhe could earn in a couple of weeks. 

"And orchids are her favorite flowers!" says he. "Ever buy any orchids, Torchy?"

"Not guilty, " says I; "but they ain't so high, are they, that youcouldn't splurge on a bunch now and then? What's the tariff on 'em, anyway?"

"At times you can get real nice ones for a dollar apiece, " says he. 

"Phe-e-e-ew!" says I. "She has got swell tastes. "

"It isn't her fault, " says he. "She's never known anything different. "

So what does Skid do but slow up on the correspondence, skippin' ananswer here and there, and coverin' only two pages when he did write. For one thing, he didn't have so much to tell as she did. I knew that;for I'd seen more or less of Mallory durin' the last few months, and Iknew he was playin' his cards close to his vest. 

Not that he was givin' any real lifelike miser imitation; but he didn'tindulge in high priced café luncheons on Saturdays, like most of thebunch; he'd scratched his entry at the college club; and he was soakin'away his little surplus as fast as he got his fingers on it. 

Course, that programme meant sendin' regrets to most of the invites hegot, and spendin' his evenin's where it didn't cost much to get in orout. One frivolous way he had of killin' time was by teachin' 'rithmeticto a class of new landed Zinskis at a settlement house over on the EastSide. 

"Ah, what's the use?" I used to tell him. "They'd learn to do compoundinterest on their fingers in a month, anyway, and the first thing youknow you'll be payin' rent to some of 'em. "

But he was pretty level headed about most things, I will say that forMallory, specially the way he sized up this girl business. Seems at lastshe got the idea he was grouchy at her about something; and when hedidn't deny, or come to the front with any reason--why, she just quitsendin' the billy ducks. 

"So you're never going to see her any more, eh?" says I. 

"Well, " says he, "I supposed until within an hour or so ago that I nevershould. And then----Well, she's here, Torchy; came yesterday, and Ipresume she expects to see me to-night. "

"That's encouragin', anyway, " says I. 

But Mallory don't seem so much cheered up. It turns out that Sis isspendin' a few days with friends here, waitin' for the rest of thefam'ly to come on and sail for Europe. They're givin' a farewell dinnerdance for her, and Skid is on the list. 

The trouble is he can't make up his mind whether to go or stay away. Oneminute he's dead sure he won't, and the next minute he admits he don'tsee what harm there would be in takin' one last look. 

"But, then, " says Mallory, "what good would that do?"

"I know, " says I. "There's a young lady friend of mine on the other sidetoo. Say, Mallory, I guess we belong in the lobster class. "

And when we splits up on the corner Skid has decided against the partyproposition, and goes off towards his boardin' house with his chin downon his collar and his heels draggin'. 

So I wa'n't prepared for the joyous smile and the frock coat regaliathat Mallory wears when he blows into the office about ten-forty-fivenext forenoon. He's sportin' a spray of lilies of the valley in hislapel, and swingin' his silver topped stick, and by the look on hisface you'd think he was hearin' the birdies sing in the treetops. 

"Tra-la-la, tra-la-lee!" says I, throwin' open the brass gate for him. "Is it a special holiday, or what?"

"It's a very special one, " says he, thumpin' me on the back andwhisperin' husky in my ear. "Torchy, I'm married!"

"Wha-a-at!" I splutters. "Who to? When?"

"To Sis, " says he, "half an hour ago. "

"Eh?" says I. "Mean to say you've been and eloped with the Senator'sdaughter?"

"Eloped!" says he, as though he'd never heard the word before. "Why, no--er--that is, we just went out and--and----"

Oh, no, they hadn't eloped! They'd merely slid out of the ballroom aboutthree A. M. , after dancin' seventeen waltzes together, snuggled into ahansom cab, and rode around the park until daylight talkin' it over. Then she'd slipped back into the house, got into her travelin' dresswhile he was off changin' his clothes, met again at eight o'clock, chased down to City Hall after a license, and then dragged a youngrector away from his boiled eggs and toast to splice 'em. 

But Skid didn't call that elopin'. Why, Sis had left word with thebutler to tell her friends all about it, and the first thing they didafter it was over was to send a forty-word collect telegram to papa. And Mallory, he'd just dropped around to arrange with Old Hickory for alittle vacation before they beat it for Atlantic City. 

"So that ain't elopin', eh?" says I. "I expect you'd call that asixty-yard run on a forward pass, or something like that? Well, the oldman's inside. Luck to you. "

Mallory wa'n't on the carpet long, and when he comes out I asks how hemade back. 

"Oh, bully!" says he. "I'm to have ten days. "

"With or without?" says I. 

"Oh, I forgot to ask, " says he. 

Little things like bein' on the payroll or not wa'n't botherin' himthen. He gives me a bone crushin' grip and swings out to the elevator ina rush; for he's been away from Sis nearly half an hour now. 

Exceptin' a picture postcard or two, showin' the iron pier and a bathin'scene, I didn't hear from Mr. And Mrs. Mallory for more'n a week. Andthen one afternoon I gets a 'phone message from Skid, saying thatthey're all settled in a little flat up on Washington Heights andthey'll be pleased to have me come up to dinner. 

"It's our very first dinner, you know, " says he, "and Sis is going toget it all by herself. I suggested that we try the first one on you. "

"That don't scare me any, " says I. "I've lived on sinkers and pie toolong to duck amateur cookin'. I'll be there. "

I was on the grin all the afternoon too, thinkin' of the joshes I wasgoin' to hand him. At three minutes of closing time I was all ready tosneak out, with one eye on the clock and the other on Piddie, when inblows a ruby faced, thick waisted gent with partly gray hair, aheavyweight jaw, and a keen pair of twinklin' gray eyes. He looksprosperous and important, and he proceeds to act right to home. 

"Boy, " says he, pushin' through the gate, "is this the general office ofthe Corrugated Trust Company?"

"Yep, " says I. "That's what it says on the door. "

"There is employed here, I understand, " he goes on, "a young man by thename of Mallory. "

Say, I was wide awake at that. "Mallory?" says I. "I can find out. Didyou want to see him on business?"

"It is a personal matter, " says he. "Is he here?"

"Now, let's not rush this, " says I. "My orders is to find out----"

"Very well, " says the gent, "there is my card. And perhaps I shouldmention that I have the honor--er--I suppose, to be his father in law. "

Say, and here I was, up against the Senator himself. Course it was mycue to shrivel up and do the low salaam; but all I can think of at theminute is to look him over and grin. 

"Gee!" says I. "Then you're on his trail, eh?"

Maybe it was the grin fetched him; for them square mouth cornersflickers a little and he don't throw any fit. "Evidently you aresomewhat familiar with the circumstances, " says he. "May I ask if youare sufficiently favored with the confidence of my new son in law toknow where he and my--er--his wife happen, to be just now?"

"I admit it, " says I; "but if you're thinkin' of springin' any hammermusic on Skid, you can look for another party, for you won't get it outof me in a thousand years!"

"Ah!" says he. "I see Young Lochinvar has at least one champion. Allowme to state that my intentions are pacific. My wife and I merely wish, before sailing, to pay a formal call on our daughter and her newhusband. Now if you could give me their address----"

"Why, say, Senator, " says I, "if you ain't lookin' to start anything, Ican do better. I'm going right up there myself this minute, and ifMrs. ----"

"She is waiting downstairs in the cab, " says he. "Nothing would suit usbetter. "

And, say, maybe it wa'n't just what I should have done, but blamed if Icould see how to dodge it when it's up to me that way. So it's meclimbin' up on the front seat with the driver of a fancy hotel taxi, papa and mamma behind, and off rolls the surprise party. 

Well, you know them cut rate apartment houses, with a flossy receptionroom, all marble slabs and burlap panels and no elevator. The WestIndian at the telephone exchange says we'll find the Mallorys on the topfloor back to the left. That meant four flights to climb, which mightaccount for the lack of conversation on the way up. Mallory, with hiscoat off, his cuffs rolled back, and his face steamed up, answers thering himself. 

"Ah, that you, Torchy?" says he. "We were just wondering if youwould----Why--er--ah----" and as he gets sight of the old couple out inthe dark hall he breaks off sudden. 

"It's all right, " says I. "He's promised to give the peace sign. Youknow the Senator, don't you, Skid?"

"The Senator!" he gasps out. 

"I believe I once had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Mallory, " says the oldboy, comin' to the front graceful. "Hope you will pardon the intrusion;but----"

Just then, though, Sis appears from the kitchen, her face all pink andwhite, and her sleeves pushed up past the dimples in her elbows. Under athirty-nine-cent blue and white checked apron she's wearin' a lace partydress that was a dream. It's an odd combination; but most anything wouldlook well on a little queen like her. She takes one look at Skid, another at the Senator, and then behind the old man she spies Mother. 

Well, it's just a squeal from one, and a sigh from the other, and thenthey've made a rush to the center that wedges us all into that littlethree-foot hall like it was the platform of a subway car, and beforeanything more can be said they've gone to a fond clinch, each pattin'the other on the back and passin' appropriate remarks. 

Somehow, I guess the Senator hadn't quite figured on this part of theprogramme. I expect his plan was to be real polite and formal, stay onlylong enough to let the young people know he could stand it if theycould, and then back out dignified. 

Whatever Mother might have meant to do when she started, it was all offfrom the minute Sis let out that squeal. And no sooner had we gotourselves untangled and edged sideways into the cute little parlor, thanMother announces how she means to stay right here until it's time tostart for the steamer. Did some one say dinner! Good! She'll stay todinner, then. 

At that Sis looks at Skid and Skid he looks at Sis. There was some realworry exchanged in them looks too; but young Mrs. Mallory ain't one tobe stumped as easy as that. 

"Oh, goody!" says she, clappin' her hands. "But, Mother, what is it youdo to make dumplings puff out after you've dropped them in the lambstew?"

"Dumplings! Lamb stew!" says Mother. "Gracious! Don't ask me, child. Ihaven't made any for years. Doesn't your cook know?"

"She doesn't, " says Sis. "I am the cook, Mother. "

Well, that was only the beginning of the revelations; for while Sis andMother was strugglin' with the receipt book, the Senator was makin' atour of inspection around the apartment. It didn't take him so long, either. 

"Ahem!" says he to Mallory. "Very cozy, indeed; but--er--not exactlyspacious. "

"Four rooms and bath, " says Mallory. 

"Was--er--that the bathtub in there?" says the Senator, jerkin' histhumb at the bathroot door. "I fancied it might be--er--a pudding dish. Might I inquire what rent you pay for--er--all this?"

"Forty a month, sir, " says Mallory. 

"Ah! Economy, I see. Good way to begin, " says he. "And if it is not toopersonal a question, your present salary is----"

"I'm getting twenty-five a week, " says Skid, lookin' him straightbetween the eyes. 

"Then you have a private income, I presume?" says the Senator. 

"Well, " says Mallory, "my aunt in Boston sends me fifty dollars everyChristmas and advises me to invest my savings in Government bonds. "

At that the Senator drops into a chair and whistles. "But--but how doyou expect, " he goes on, "to--to----Pardon me, but I am gettinginterested. I should like to know what was your exact financial standingwhen you had the imp--er--when you married my daughter?"

He gets it, down to the last nickel. Skid begins with what he had in thebank when they starts for Atlantic City, shows the hole that trip madein his funds, produces the receipts for furniture, and announces that, after punglin' up a month's rent, there's something over seven dollarsleft in the treasury. 

"Huh!" grunts the Senator. "Hence the lamb stew, eh? I don't wonder! Soyou and Sis have undertaken to live in a forty-dollar apartment on atwenty-five-dollar salary, have you?"

"That's what it looks like, sir, " says Mallory. 

"And who is the financial genius that is to manage this enterprise?"says he. 

"Why, " says Skid, "Mrs. Mallory, I suppose. We have agreed that sheshould. "

"Sis, eh?" says the Senator, smilin' kind of grim. "Well, you have mybest wishes for your success. "

Skid he flushes some behind the ears; but he only bows and says he'smuch obliged. You couldn't blame him for feelin' cut up, either; forit's all clear how the Senator has doped out an appeal for help withinthirty days, and is willin' to wait for the call. I'm no shark on thecost of livin' myself; but even I could figure out a deficit. There's acall to dinner just then, though, and we all gathers round the stew. 

Anyway, it was meant for a lamb stew. The potatoes was some hard, thegravy was so thin you'd thought it had been put in from the tea kettleas an afterthought, and the dumplin's hadn't the puffin' out charmworked on 'em for a cent. But the sliced carrots was kind of tasty andwent all right with the baker's bread if you left off the bargainbutter. Sis she tried to laugh at it all; but her eyes got kind of dewyat the corners. 

"Never mind, dear, " says Mother. "I'll telegraph for our old Martha tocome on and cook for you. "

"Why, certainly, " says the Senator. "She could sleep on the fire escape, you know. "

And say, that last comic jab of his, and the effect it had on Mr. AndMrs. Mallory, kind of got under my skin. I got to thinkin' hard andfast, and inside of five minutes I stumbles onto an idea. 

"Excuse me, " says I to Skid; "but I guess I'll be on my way. I justthought of a date I ought to keep. "

And where do you expect I brings up? At the Ellins' mansion, down on theavenue. First time I'd ever been there out of office hours; but the maidsays Mr. Ellins is takin' his coffee in the lib'ry and she'd see if he'dlet me in. Ah, sure he did, and we gets right down to cases. 

"Remember how that assistant general manager stiff of yours fell down onthat public lands deal when you sent him to Washington last month?" saysI. 

Old Hickory chokes some on a swallow of black coffee he's just hoistedin; but he recovers enough to nod. 

"Does he get the run?" says I. 

"I neglected consulting you about it, Torchy, " says he; "but hisresignation has been called for. "

"Filled the job yet?" says I. 

"Fortunately, no, " says he, and I knew by the way he squints that hethought he was bein' mighty humorous. "Possibly you could recommend hissuccessor?"

"Yep, I could, " says I. "Would it help any to have some one who was sonin law to a Senator?"

"That, " says Old Hickory, "would depend somewhat on which Senator washis father in law. "

"Well, " says I, "there's his card. "

"Eh?" says he, readin' the name. "Why--who----"

"Mallory, " says I. "You know--hitched last week. He's got the old boy upthere to dinner now. Maybe he'll be taken on as the Senator's secretaryif you don't jump in quick. He's a hustler, Mallory is. Remember how heskinned that big order out of Kazedky? And as an A. G. M. He'd be awinner. Well, does he get it?"

"Young man, " says Old Hickory, catchin' his breath, "if my mentalmachinery worked at the high pressure speed yours does, I could----But Iam not noted for being slow. I've done things in a hurry before. I canyet. Torchy, he does get it. "

"When?" says I. 

"To-morrow morning, " says he. "I'll start him at five thousand. "

"Whoop!" says I. "Say, you're a sport! I'll go up and deliver the gladnews. Guess he needs it now as much as he ever will. "

And, say, you should have seen the change of heart that comes over theSenator when he heard the bulletin. "Mallory, my boy, " says he, "congratulations. And by the way, just remove that--er--imitation lambstew. Then we'll all go down to some good hotel and have a realdinner. "

CHAPTER XVII

TOUCHING ON TINK TUTTLE

"On your way, now, on your way!" says I; gazin' haughty over the brassgate. "No window cleanin' done here durin' office hours!"

"But, " says the specimen on the other side, "I--I didn't come to cleanthe windows. "

"Eh?" says I, sizin' up the blue flannel shirt, the old leather belt, and other marks of them pail and sponge artists. "Well, we don't wantany sash cords put in, or wirin' fixed, or any kind of jobbin' doneuntil after five. That's General Order No. 1. See?"

He nods in kind of a lifeless, unexcited way; but he don't make anymotions towards beatin' it. "I--I--the fact is, " he begins, "I wish tosee some one connected with the Corrugated Trust Company. "

"You've had your wish, " says I. "I'm Exhibit A. For a profile view of mestep around to the left. Anything more?"

He don't get peeved at this, nor he don't grin. He just keeps on bein'serious and calm. "If you don't mind, " says he, "I should like to seeone of the higher officials. "

"Say, that's almost neat enough to win out, " says I. "One of the higherofficials, eh? How would the president suit you?"

"If I might see him, I'd like it, " says he. 

"Wha-a-a-at!" says I. 

Honest, the nerve that's wasted on some folks is a shame. I had to situp and give him the Old Sleuth stare at that. He's between twenty-fiveand thirty, for a guess; and, say, whatever he might have been once, he's a wreck now, --long, thin face, with the cheekbones almost stickin'through, slumped in shoulders, bony hands, and a three months' crop ofmud colored hair stringin' damp over his ears and brushin' his coatcollar. Why, he looked more like he ought to be sittin' around thewaitin' room of some charity hospital, than tryin' to butt in on thetime of one of the busiest men in New York. 

"It's a matter that ought to go before the president, " says he, "and ifhe isn't busy I'd like very much to----"

"Say, old scout, " says I, "you got about as much chance of bein' let into see Mr. Ellins as I have of passin' for a brunette! So let's comedown to cases. Now what's it all about?"

He ain't makin' any secret of it. He wants the concern to make him a bidon an option he holds on some coal and iron lands. Almost comes to lifetellin' me about that option, and for the first time I notice what big, bright, deep sunk eyes he's got. 

"Oh, a thing of that kind would have to go through reg'lar, " says I. "Wait; I'll call Mr. Piddie. He'll fix you up. "

Does he? Well, that's what Piddie's supposed to be there for; but hedon't any more'n glance at the flannel shirt before he begins to swellup and frown and look disgusted. "No, no, go away!" says he. "I've notime to talk to you, none at all. "

"But, " says the object, "I haven't had a chance to tell you----"

"Get out--you!" snaps Piddie, turnin' on his heel and struttin' off. 

It ain't the way he talks to parties wearin' imported Panamas andsportin' walkin' sticks; but, then, most of us has our little fads thatway. What stirred me up, though, was the rough way he did it, and thehopeless sag to the wreck's chin after he's heard the decision. 

"Sweet disposition he's got, eh?" says I. "But don't take him tooserious. He ain't the final word in this shop, and there's nobody getsnext to the big wheeze oftener durin' the day than yours truly. Maybe Icould get that option of yours passed on. Got the document with you?"

He had and hands it over. With that he drops onto the reception roomsettee and says he'll wait. 

"Better not, " says I; "for it might be quite a spell before I gets theright chance. We'll do this reg'lar, by mail. Now what's the name?"

"Tuttle, " says he, "Tinkham J. Tuttle. "

"They call you Tink for short, don't they?" says I, and he admits thatthey do. "All right, " I goes on. "Now the address, Tink. Jersey, eh?Well, it's likely you'll hear from Mr. Ellins before the week's out. Butdon't get your hopes up; for he turns down enough propositions to fill awaste basket every day. Express elevator at No. 5. So long, " and Ichokes off Mr. Tuttle's vote of thanks by wavin' him out the door. 

It's well along in the afternoon before I sees an openin' to drop thisoption in front of Old Hickory, grabbin' a minute when his desk isfairly clear, and slammin' it down just as though it had been sent inthrough Piddie. 

"Delivered on, " says I. "Wants rush answer by mail. "

"Huh!" grunts Old Hickory, lightin' up a fresh Cassadora. 

That's all I expected to hear of the transaction; so about an hourlater, when Piddie comes out lookin' solemn and says I'm to report toMr. Ellins, I don't know what's up. 

"Is it a first degree charge, Piddie, " says I, "or only formanslaughter?"

"I presume Mr. Ellins will discover what you have done, " says he. 

"Well, hope for the worst, Piddie, " says I. "Here goes!"

And the minute I sees what Old Hickory has in front of him, I'm wise. 

"Torchy, " says he, givin' me the steely glitter out of them cold storageeyes of his, "Mr. Piddie seems to know nothing about this Michiganoption. "

"If he admits that much, " says I, "it must be so. It's a record, though. "

"What I want to know, " goes on Mr. Ellins, "is how in blue belted blazesit got here. You brought it in, didn't you?"

"Yep, " says I. "It was this way, Mr. Ellins: Piddie had it put up to himand wouldn't even hang it on the hook; but the guy that brings it lookedso mournful that I butts in and takes a chance on passin' it along toyou on my own hook. "

"Oh, you did, eh?" he snorts. 

"Sure, " says I. "I got to do the fresh act once in a while, ain't I?Course, if you want a dead one on the gate, I can hand in my portfolio;but I thought all you had to do with punk options like this was to toss'em in the basket and then have 'em fired back at----"

"Fire nothing back!" says Mr. Ellins. "Why, you lucky young rascal, we've been trying to get hold of this very property for eight months!And Piddie! Bah! Of all the pin-headed, jelly brained----"

"Second the motion, " says I, springin' the joyous grin. 

"That will do, " says Old Hickory, catchin' himself up. "Just you forgetMr. Piddie and listen to me. Know this Tuttle person by sight, don'tyou?"

"Couldn't forget him, " says I. "Want him on the carpet?"

"I do, " says he. "Have him here at ten-thirty to-morrow morning. Butfind him to-night, and see that you don't open your head about thisbusiness to anyone else. "

"I get you, " says I, doin' the West Point salute. "It's me to trail andshut up Tuttle. He'll be here, if I have to bring him in an ambulance. "

That's why I jumps out before closin' time and mingles with the Jerseycommuters in a lovely hot ride across the meadows. It's a scrubbystation where I gets off, too; one of these fact'ry settlements wherethe whole population answers the seven o'clock whistle every mornin'. There's a brick barracks half a mile long, where they make sewin'machines or something, and snuggled close up around it is hundreds ofthese four-fam'ly wooden tenements, gettin' the full benefit of the softcoal smoke and makin' it easy for the hands to pike home for a noondinner. Say, you talk about the East Side double deckers; but they'rebrownstone fronts compared to some of these corporation shacks acrossthe meadows!

Seventeen dirty kids led me to the number Tuttle gave me, and in theright hand first floor kitchen I finds a red faced woman in a faded bluewrapper fryin' salt pork and cabbage. 

"Mrs. Tinkham Tuttle?" says I, holdin' my breath. 

"No, " says she, glancin' suspicious over her shoulder. "I'm his sister. "

"Oh!" says I. "Is Tink around?"

"I don't know whether he is or not, and don't care!" says she. 

"Much obliged, " says I; "but I ain't come to collect for anything. Couldn't you give a guess?"

"If I did, " says she, "I'd say he was over to the factory yard. That'swhere he stays most of the time. "

It's half-past five; but the fact'ry's runnin' full blast, and I has tojolly a timekeeper and the yard boss before I locates my man. Fin'lly, though, they point out a big storage shed in one corner of the coalcinder desert they has fenced in so careful. The wide double doors tothe shed are shut; but after I've hammered for a while one of 'em isslid back a few inches and Tuttle peeks out. 

"Oh!" he gasps. "You! Say, are they going to take it? Are they?"

"Them's the indications, " says I, "providin' it's all O. K. And yourprice is right. "

"Oh, I'll make the price low enough, " says he. "I'll sell out for twothousand, and it ought to be worth twice that. But two is all I need. "

"Eh?" says I. "What kind of finance do you call that? Say, Tuttle, youknow you can't work any 'phony deal on the Corrugated. Better give methe straight goods and save trouble. "

"I will, " says he. "Come in, won't you!"

With that he leads the way through the dark shed to a sort of workshopat the back, where there's a window. There's a tool bench, a little handforge with an old coffee pot and a fryin' pan on it, and a cot bed notten feet away. 

"Campin' out here?" says I. 

"I'm not supposed to, " says he; "but the yard superintendent lets me. This is where I've lived and worked for nearly two years, and until youcame a minute ago it was where I expected to end. But now it'sdifferent. "

"It is?" says I. "How's that?"

Which is Tink Tuttle's cue to open up on the story of his life. It's asoggy, unexcitin' yarn, most of it. As I'd kind of guessed by the way hetalked, he wa'n't just an ordinary fact'ry hand. He'd been through somehigh class scientific school up in Massachusetts, where he'd livedbefore his father lost his grip. Seems the old man was a crackerjackboss machinist; but he got to monkeyin' with fool inventions, driftedfrom place to place, got to be a lunger, and finally passed in. The lastfour years in the fact'ry here had finished him. Tink had worked there, too, and his sister had married one of the hands. 

"It's the graveyard of the Tuttle family, this place is, I suppose, "says Tink. "It got father, and it has almost got me. Some folks canbreathe brass filings and carbon dioxide and thrive on it; but we can't. So I gave up and hid myself away in here to work out one of my sillydreams. Last spring I caught a bad cold, and Sister sent me West. Therewe have an uncle. She thought the change of climate might help my cough. It didn't do a bit of good; but it was out there that I picked up thisoption. That was when I saw a chance of making my dream come true. Yousaw what I've been building, didn't you, as we came through?"

"I didn't notice, " says I. "What is it, anyway?"

[Illustration: "TUT, TUT, " SAYS THE BOSS OF THE RESTORIUM. ]

"Wait until I light the lantern, " says Tuttle. "Now come. This way. Don't hit your head on those wings. There!"

And, say, it's a wonder I could walk right by a thing of that kindwithout gettin' next, even if it was kind of dark. But all I needs nowis one glimpse of the outlines. 

"Oho!" says I. "A flyer! Say, every bughouse in the country is at workon one of them. "

"I suppose so, " says he. "I may be as big a fool as any of them, too;but I think I know what I'm doing. At any rate, I've put my last dollarinto it. That's why my sister is so----Well, she thinks I am----"

"Yes, I suspicioned she was some sore on you, " says I. "But what sort ofa flyer is this, double or single winger?"

"It's a biplane, " says Tuttle, "on the Farnham type, only an improvedmodel. "

"Of course it's improved, " says I. "Tried her out yet!"

"Hardly, " says he. "I couldn't buy an engine, you see. That's what I'vebeen waiting for. Say, you really think the Corrugated will take thatoption, do you? If they only would!"

"You must be in a hurry to break your neck, " says I. 

Before I left, though, he'd shown me all over the thing, explained howit was goin' to work, and did his best to get me as excited as he was. Also I makes him give me the full details of how he come to get thisoption, and I advises him if he does manage to cash it in for twothousand, to take an ax to his flying machine and hike out for some lungpreservin' climate where he'll have a chance to shake that cough. 

"Thanks, " says he, grippin' my hand and chokin' up. "You--you've beenmighty good to me. I'll remember it. "

Course, I gives Mr. Ellins the whole tale in the mornin', about Tuttleand his bum air pumps, and his batty scheme of buildin' the flyer; butall that interests Old Hickory is the option and the price. 

"Good work, Torchy, " says he. "I've wired our Western agents toinvestigate, and if they report an O. K. , Tuttle shall have his twothousand to do what he likes with. "

It must have been two weeks later, and I'd almost forgot the case, whenone mornin' I gets a note from Tinkham J. , askin' me to come over to theshed as quick as I could. Well, I didn't know whether he was havin' afinal spasm or not; but it seemed like I ought to go, so that night Idoes. I finds him waitin' for me at the yard gate. He don't look anyworse than usual, either. 

"Well, " says I, "didn't the deal go through?"

"It did, " says he, pattin' me on the back. "Thanks to you, it did. Thecheck came two days later, and I've spent it all. "

"What!" says I. "You don't mean to say you blew all that in on an enginefor that blamed----"

"All but a few dollars that I put into oil and gasoline, " says he. "Butthe machine is all hooked up, Torchy, and it works. Do you hear that? Itworks! I've been up!"

"Up?" says I. 

"Not far, " says he; "but enough to know what I can do. Started righthere from the yard, just at daylight, and landed here again. I've toldno one else, you know. Come in and see how smooth the engine works. "

And it was just while he was gettin' ready to start the wheels thatthese two strangers butts in on us. One is a husky, red faced, swelldressed young sport, and the other is a tall, swivel eyed, middle agedgent dressed in khaki. They walks around the machine without payin' anyattention to me or Tuttle. 

"Well, what do you think of it, Captain?" says the young sport after awhile. 

The Captain, he shakes his head. "I can't tell positively, " says he;"but these planes seem to me to be set entirely wrong. I never sawdeflectors worked on that principle before, either. The theory may begood; but in a practical test----"

"They say he's made flight, though, " breaks in the young sport. "Thenight watchman saw him. Hey! You're the chap that built this aëroplane, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir, " says Tuttle. 

"And didn't you make a flight?" he wants to know. 

"A short one, " says Tuttle. 

"That's enough for me, " says the sport. "Say, you know who I am, don'tyou?"

"Oh, yes, " says Tuttle. "At least, I ought to. You're Bradish Jones, Jr. , one of the owner's sons. "

"That's right, " says young Mr. Jones. "And I know you. You're the son ofold Tuttle, who used to be foreman of the machine shop when I was doingmy apprentice work. Thought this little trick of yours was a secret, didn't you? But I heard about it. Lucky for you I did, too. I'm in themarket. I don't care a hoot what the Captain says, either. I want aflyer, and I'm ready to take a chance on yours. What do you want forit?"

"Why, " says Tuttle, "I don't believe I want to sell. "

"What's that?" snaps Bradish. "Come, now! Don't try to bluff me! I'lladmit I'm in a hurry. These Curtiss people have been holding me off fora month, and I want to begin flying right away. So name your price. Howmuch?"

But Tuttle, he only shakes his head. 

"Oh, yes, you will, " says Bradish. "Why, you've hardly a dollar to yourname. You can't afford to own a flyer, even if you did build it. Youknow you can't. Now show me what it cost you, and I'll give you athousand for your work and a hundred a week until I learn to manage thething. Is it a go?"

"No!" says Tuttle, sharp and quick, them big eyes of his fairly blazin'. "This is my machine, and I'm going to fly it. I don't care how muchmoney you've got. You've taken a sudden whim that you'd like to fly. It's been the one dream of my life. You've had your yachts and yourracing cars. I've never had anything but hard work. My father worehimself out in your stinking old factory. I nearly did the same. Butyou can't rob me of this. You sha'n't, that's all!"

And for a minute them two stood there givin' each other the assault andbatt'ry stare, without sayin' a word. A queer lookin' pair they made, too; this Bradish gent, big and beefy and prosperous, and Tink Tuttle, his greasy old coat hangin' loose on his skinny shoulders, and lookin'like he was on his way from the accident ward to the coroner's office. 

"Five thousand cash, then, " growls Mr. Jones. 

"Not if you said fifty!" Tink comes back at him. 

"Bah!" says Bradish. "Why, I could have you and your machine thrown outin the road this minute. But I'll give you twenty-four hours to think itover. Remember, to-morrow night at six I'll be here with the money. Thenit will be either sell or go. Come, Captain, " and with that they pikesout. 

"Say, Tink, " says I, "you got him comin', all right, and if you don'tget that five thousand you're no good. "

"I know I'm no good, " says Tuttle. "That's why I don't want his money. "

"But see here, Tink, " says I. "You ain't goin' to turn down an offerlike that, are you?"

"I am, " says he, "and I'll tell you why. It's because I know I'm no goodand never would be any good, even if I could live, which I can't. Oh, Idon't need any doctor to tell me how much longer I've got. They gave meonly three months over a year ago. I knew better. I knew I should holdout until I finished my flyer. Father didn't have anything like that tokeep on for; so he went quicker. He didn't want to go, either. And itwas awful to watch him, Torchy, just awful! But I'm not going to finishthat way. No, not now, " and he walks up to the machine and runs hishand loving along one of the smooth planes. 

"How's that?" says I. "What are you drivin' at, Tink?"

"I can't tell you how I shall do it exactly, " says he; "for I'm notsure. But I mean to go up once; way, way up, out over the ocean just atsunrise. Won't that be fine, eh? Just think! Sailing off up there intothe blue; up, and up, and up; higher than anyone has ever dared to gobefore, higher and higher, until your gasoline gives out and you can'tgo any more!"

"Yes; but what then?" says I, beginnin' to feel some chilly along thespine. 

"Why, that's enough, isn't it?" says he. "Anyway, it's all I ask. I'llcall it all quits then. "

"Ah, say, cut out the tragedy!" says I. "You give me the creeps, talkin'that rot! What you want to do is to go up for a short sail if you can, forget to try any Hamilton stunts, and then beat it back to collect thatfive thousand while the collectin's good. Say, when do you try heragain?"

"At daylight to-morrow morning, " says he. 

"Gee!" says I. "I've got a notion to stick around and watch how you comeout. "

"No, don't, " says he. "I--I'll let you know. Yes, honest I will. Goodnight and--good-by. " He kept his word as well as he could, too. Thepostmark on the card was six A. M. ; but I guess it must have been droppedin the box earlier than that. All it says is:

 Twenty gallons in the tank, and I'm off at four o'clock. I shall go straight out to sea and then up, up. I've never been much good; but I mean to finish in style. T. T. 

Now, what would you say to a batty proposition like that? I couldn'ttell whether it was a bluff, or what. And I waits four days before I hadthe nerve to go and see. 

Sister says she ain't seen him since last Monday. And there was no flyerin the shed. Nobody around the place knew what had become of it, either. 

Well, it's been two weeks since I got that postal. What do I think? Say, honest, I don't dare. But at night, when I'm tryin' to get to sleep, Ican see Tink, sittin' in between all them wires and things, with thewheel in his hand, and them big eyes of his gazin' down calm andsatisfied, down, down, down, and him ready to take that one last dip tothe finish. And, say, about then I pull the sheets up over my eyes andshiver. 

"Piddie, " says I, "you got more sense than you look to have. Anyway, youknow when to sidestep the nutty ones, don't you?"

CHAPTER XVIII

GETTING HERMES ON THE BOUNCE

Anybody might of thought, to see me sittin' there in the Ellins lib'ry, leanin' back luxurious in a big red leather chair lookin' over thelatest magazines, that I'd been promoted from head office boy to heirapparent or something like that. I expect some kids would have stood onone leg in the front hall and held their breath; but why not makeyourself to home when you get the chance? I knew the boss was takin' histime goin' through all them papers I'd brought up, and that when hefinished he'd send down word if there was any instructions to go back. 

That's how I come to get the benefit of all this mushy conversation thatbegins to drift out from the next room. First off I couldn't make outwhether it was some one havin' a tooth plugged, or if it was a case of amouse bein' loose at a tea party. Course, the squeals and giggles Icould place as comin' from Miss Marjorie Ellins. Maybe you rememberabout Mr. Robert's heavyweight young sister that wanted to play Julietonce?

But who the other party was I didn't have an idea, except that from the"you-alls" she was usin' I knew she must hail from somewhere south ofBaltimore. 

Anyway, they seemed to be too much excited to sit down while theytalked, and the first thing I knew they'd drifted into the lib'ry, theirarms twined around each other in a reg'lar schoolgirl clinch, and theconversation just bubblin' out of 'em free. 

Miss Marjorie was all got up classy in pink and white, and she sure doeslook like a wide, corn fed Venus. The other is a slim, willowy younglady with a lot of home grown blond hair, a cute chin dimple, and a pairof big dark eyes with a natural rovin' disposition. And she's hobbleskirted to the point where her feet was about as much use as if they'dbeen tied in a bag. 

It was some kind of a long winded story she was tellin' veryconfidential, with Marjorie supplyin' the exclamation points. 

"Really, now, was he, Mildred?" says Marjorie. 

"'Deed and 'deedy, he was!" says Mildred. "Positively the handsomest manI ever saw! I thought I could forget him; but I couldn't, Madge, Icouldn't! And only think, he is coming this very night, and not a soulknows but just us two!"

"Excuse me, " says I; "but I'm Number Three. "

"Oh, oh!" they both squeals at once. 

"Who--who's that?" whispers Mildred. 

"Why it's only Torchy, from Papa's office, " says Marjorie. "And oh, Mildred! He is the very one to help us! You will now, won't you, Torchy?Come, that's a dear!"

"Please do, Torchy!" says Mildred, snugglin' up on the other side andpattin' my red hair soothin'. 

"Ah, say, reverse English on the tootsy business!" says I. "This ain'tany heart-throb matinee. G'wan!"

"Why, Torchy!" says Marjorie, real coaxin' "I thought we were such goodfriends!"

"Well, I'm willin' to let it go that far, " says I; "but don't try toring in any folksy strangers. I'm here on business for the firm. "

Just then too down comes the maid sayin' there wa'n't anything to goback; so I starts to beat it. 

I didn't get far, though, with a hundred and ninety pound young ladyblockin' the doorway. 

"Torchy, you must help us!" says Marjorie. "There isn't anyone else wecan ask. And you're always doing such clever things for Papa and BrotherBob!"

Say, it was a puffy lot of hot air she hands out; but I admit that aftertwo or three more speeches like that, and with her promisin' to squareanything Piddie might have to say about not comin' back, she had megoin'. 

"Well, what's the proposition?" says I. 

"Let's tell him all, so he will understand just what he's to do, "suggests Marjorie. 

And, say, you should have heard them two, with me pinned in between 'emon the couch, givin' me the tale in a sort of chorus, both talkin' toonce and beginnin' at diff'rent ends. 

"It's such a romance!" squeals Marjorie. 

"You see, he's coming to-night, " says Mildred, "and nobody knows. "

"Yes, I got that all down, " says I; "but what's the first part? Who ishe and where's he from?"

Well, it's some yarn, all right! Seems that Mildred was a boardin'school chum of Marjorie's who'd come up from Atlanta to spend the summerwith friends in Newport. As a wind-up to the season they'd taken her ona yachtin' trip up the coast. Such a poky old trip, too! Nobody aboardbut old married folks that played bridge all the time, and one baldheaded bachelor who couldn't sit out in the moonlight with her unless hewas wrapped up in a steamer rug. 

So what was a girl with eyes like Mildred's to do, anyway? She was bein'bored to death, when, as luck would have it, something went wrong withthe propeller shaft. The yacht was 'way up off the coast of Maine at thetime, and the nearest place where it was safe to anchor was in the leeof a barren, dinky little island. And they stays there three whole days, while the crew tinkers things up below and the folks yawn their headsoff. 

All but Millie. She got so desp'rate she rowed ashore all by herself. Accordin' to her description, that must have been a perfectly punklittle island. It was all rock, except in a few spots where there wassome scrub bushes and mangy grass. Plunk in the middle was an old shackof a house surrounded by lobster pots and racks of codfish spread out todry, and she says it was the smelliest scenery she'd ever got real closeto. 

But Mildred was sore on the yacht and all the stupid folks on it; so shewanders out to windward of the worst smells, plants herself on theflattest rock she can find, and prepares to read. That's her pose whenshe looks up and discovers this male party with the sun kissed locks andthe dreamy eyes standin' there gazin' at her curious. 

"It wasn't Adonis that I called him, " says Mildred. "Who was thatstunning old Greek that we had the bust of in the school library, Madge?"

"Hermes?" says Marjorie. 

"That's it!" says Mildred. "He was a perfect Hermes; only his curly hairwas all sun bleached, and his face was tanned a lovely brown, and he hadbig, broad shoulders, and--and he was smoking a pipe. "

"And about his eyes!" prompts Marjorie. 

"Oh, they were perfectly stunning, " says she, "real sea blue. "

Well, anybody that ever read a midsummer fiction number could havesupplied the next chapters. Here's the lovely city girl, the noblebrowed but unsuspectin' native, golden summer days, and no competition. Why, with a catchy title and a few mushy pictures it would make a lovelycontribution to one of the leadin' thirty-five-centers, just as itstood. And Mildred knew her cue, all right. She trains them front roweyes of hers on him, opens up with a few lines of lively chatter, andinside of half an hour she has him sittin' picturesque at her feet, callin' him Hermes of the Lobster Pots, and otherwise workin' the sirenspell. 

"You must have flirted horribly with him, " says Marjorie, sighin' deepand admirin'. 

"What else could one do?" asks Mildred. "And it was such fun! I couldget him to say hardly anything about himself; but he was a charminglistener. He would sit and gaze at me in the most soulful, appreciativeway. Poor chap!"

He must have had her guessin' some at that; for she wa'n't dead surewhether he was a real native or not until the boss of the island showsup. He's a hump shouldered, leather faced, bushy browed old barnacle, with a Down East dialect that it was a dream to listen to, and it wasonly when Mildred heard Hermes call him Uncle Jerry that she couldbelieve the two was any relation. Uncle Jerry didn't interfere, thoughHe let 'em moon around on the rocks without disturbin' the game, and Ijudge from Millie's report that she wa'n't missin' any tricks. 

Yet she's right there with the heartless behavior when the time comes, sailin' away with a gay laugh and leavin' her blue eyed young lobsterman to yearn and mourn there on his smelly little island. Anyway, that'show she had it doped out. 

And it wa'n't until weeks later, when she'd had her snapshots of himdeveloped and printed, and got to summin' up the details in this case ofVictim B-23, that she discovers how a few of her own heartstrings hasbeen strained. Somehow she couldn't seem to tear them three August dayscompletely off the calendar; and when the other chappies come buzzin'around, and she had a chance to frame 'em up alongside of this fishisland hero, there wa'n't but one answer. It was Hermes for hers, everyday in the week!

There he was, though, out on that mussy rock; and here she was, visitin'in New York, leadin' the giddy life, and gettin' her gowns ready for theHorse Show. If Millie had passed out the heartaches casual along herformer trails, here was where she gets at least one of 'em back on therebound. 

You can guess how bad an attack she had when she crosses all the newReggie boys off her string and cooks up this scheme of sendin' forHermes to come to her. Her excuse is that she wants Uncle Jerry to havethe trip of his life by coming to the great city; but incident'lly sheurges him to bring his blue eyed nephew along, and the check she sendsis big enough to cover expenses for both. Bein' one of the impulsivekind, she does it the minute the notion strikes her; and two days latercomes this postal from Uncle Jerry, sayin' how he was much obliged, andhim and his nevvy was takin' the boat for Bosting and expected to fetchup in New York sometime next afternoon by train. 

"Which is now, " says Mildred. "But of course I can't go to the GrandCentral to meet him. "

"Why not?" says I. "Why balk at a little thing like that when you'vebeen doin' so well?"

"Oh, but, Torchy, " chimes in Marjorie, "you know you could do it so muchbetter!"

And what with both of them coaxin', and stuffin' expense money into mypockets, the next thing I know I'm on my way down to where the Bostontrains come in, and am campin' outside the gate. I nearly wore my eyesout, too, sizin' up the first trainload, and after an hour's wait I wasgettin' dizzy keepin' track of the second lot, when all of a sudden Ispots this old chap with the thick underbrush over his eyes and the soleleather complexion. 

"Oh, you Uncle Jerry!" I sings out, takin' a chance and pushin' throughthe crowd with my hand out. 

"Wall, how be ye?" says he, real hearty. "Don't remember seein' youafore; but I s'pose it's all right. "

"Sure it is, old scout, " says I. "If you're Uncle Jerry, I'm MissMildred's reception committee; but where's the nephew?"

"That's him, " says he, jerkin' his thumb at a big, overgrown, tow hairedyawp that's trailin' along in the rear luggin' a canvas valise. 

"You don't mean to tell me that's Hermes?" says I. 

"I dun'no 'bout any Hermes, " says he; "but this is my sister's boy Jake, the only nephew I got, and, bein' as how Miss Mildred asked so special, I brought him along. "

Course, there's no accountin' for tastes, specially in a romantic younglady like her; but, if this was her idea of livin' Greek statuary, shesure was easy pleased. Why, of all the rough necked Rubes! He's one ofthese loose jawed, open mouthed, lop sided youths that walks like he wasafraid of steppin' on his own feet, and looks about as much alive as atin rabbit that can wiggle its ears when you pull a string. His hair andcomplexion was accordin' to specifications, I admit, and his eyes wereas blue as a new set of lunch counter crockery; and if he was all UncleJerry could show in the nephew line, then he must be it. 

"All right, " says I. "It ain't me that's pickin' him. Now fall in lineright behind me, and we'll work out where he won't get run down bybaggage trucks or be mistaken by excursionists for a spray of autumnleaves. "

"Young lady didn't come down to the train, hey?" says Uncle Jerry. 

"No, it makes her kind of nervous to see the cars come in, " says I. "You're due to meet her this evenin', Uncle, you and Hermes. "

You see, accordin' to the plan, I was to stow the pair to some hotel, see that they was fed, keep 'em busy durin' the early part of theevenin', and round 'em up at a big society crush where Marjorie knewthe folks well enough so she could ask favors. If Mildred had 'em comewhere she was visitin', there'd be no end of questions asked; but if shesort of ran across 'em by accident at a place where there was a crowd, and could have a few words with Hermes in some quiet corner, nobodywould be the wiser. 

It was this last part of the programme I had in mind as I was sizin' upJake's travelin' costume. And, say, how is it up there in the opodeldoczone that they can get these high-water pant legs to fit so much likelengths of stovepipe? They was kind of a bilious brown and cut gen'rousin the seat; but, as far as real comic relief went, they wa'n't in itwith the cute little short tailed cutaway that he sported above 'em. Honest, that coat was enough to make an eccentric song and dance artistgreen in the eyes! And you can believe me when I say I didn't lose anytime in scootin' 'em down Fourth-ave. To a dollar a day house patronizedby some of our swellest Texas buyers. My next move is to make a reportover the 'phone. 

"Yep, I got 'em both under lock and key, " says I to Marjorie. "Troubleto pick em out? Ah, it was a pipe! Specimens like that ain't so commonanyone could get mixed if they knew what day to look for 'em. Yes, thenephew's along, all right. His real name is Jake. Well, Hermes if youinsist. But, say, ask Miss Mildred if she wants him delivered in theoriginal package, or should I hire some open face clothes for him. "

The decision is that Hermes must come in a dress suit, and if he ain'tgot any with him Marjorie will send down one of Mr. Robert's old ones. 

"Oh, I'm just dying to see him in evening clothes!" gushes Mildred overthe wire. "I know he'll be perfectly splendid!"

"Maybe, " says I. "Only don't forget the collar buttons and studs for thedress shirt. "

Say, I won't dwell on the gay time I had tryin' to keep that pair out ofsight until after dinner. Honest, if I'd been drivin' the monkey cage ina circus parade I'd felt a lot better; for every fresh gink that pipesoff that vaudeville costume of Jake's has to have his say about it. Atthe hash house where I steers 'em up against a twenty-five-cent coursedinner all the girl waiters got to gigglin' like they'd never seen afreak before. 

It wouldn't have been so bad with just Uncle Jerry, for he's wearin' anold black whipcord that would pass in the dark, and, outside the rubbercollar and the plated watch chain looped across his vest, he didn't havethe crossroads tag on him very plain; but Jake might as well have hadcowbells tied to him. Maybe I wa'n't some relieved too when we got backto the hotel and found this outfit that the girls had scraped togetherand sent down. 

"Now we'll fix you up for the theater and high society, Jake, " says I. "By rights you ought to have some of that neck hemp sheared off; but Idon't dare let a barber loose at you, for fear Mildred wouldn't know youafter he got through. She raved a lot about that hair of yours, Jake. "

"You go on now, Smarty!" says Jaky boy, grinnin' expansive. "Think I'mgoin' to wear duds like them?"

"You do if you appear out again with me, " says I. "So peel the butternutregalia and lemme see if I can harness you up in these. "

"Hee-haw!" remarks Uncle Jerry. "Let him fix you up real harnsome, Jake. "

Maybe that's what I did; but I wouldn't want to swear to it. Anyway, Igot him into the dress shirt by main strength. That was the firststruggle. Then, while Uncle Jerry held him gaspin' and groanin' on thefloor, I buttoned the high collar on and fastened the white tie. Next weended him up on his feet and pulled on the display vest and the longtailed coat. 

"Ug-g-gh! It chokes somethin' awful!" says Jake, gettin' purple facedand panicky. 

"Ah, close that pie gangway of yours and breathe natural for a minute!"says I. "There, you're feelin' better already. Come, pull them knobbywrists back up into your sleeves. This ain't no swimmin' lesson, youknow. Say, you wear a dress suit like it was so much tin armor. What'sthe matter with you, anyway!"

"I--I don't know, " says Jake, tryin' to stretch his head up like aturkey. "I don't like this. "

"You look it, " says I. "But think who's goin' to see you in it later!First off, though, you're goin' to a show with me. Come on, now; maybeyou'll get used to bein' dressed up by eleven o'clock. "

"'Leven o'clock!" says Uncle Jerry. "Look here, Son, I ain't in thehabit of stayin' up all night, remember. I'll be droppin' off to sleepfor sartin'. "

He don't, though. All through the play, which has been a two years'scream for Broadway, he sat as solemn as if he was on a coroner's juryin the presence of the remains. Play actin' was new to Uncle Jerry; buthe wa'n't going to give himself away, and he was just as wide awake asanybody in the house. 

With Jake it was diff'rent. I expect them washed out blue eyes of hishad taken in so many new scenes since mornin' that they couldn't absorbany more. Anyway, he gets drowsy before the curtain goes up, and afterhe's twisted his neck until he's got it collar broken he settles backfor a comf'table snooze. He looks so calm and peaceful I didn't have theheart to disturb him, and I only jabbed my elbows in his ribs when hegot to tunin' up the nose music too loud. Besides, I was hopin' a littlenap of two or three hours might leave him some refreshed and in bettershape for exhibitin' to Miss Mildred. For the more I saw of Jake, theless I could understand how a real live one like Millie could stand forthree days of him, even if she did, discover him on a desert island. Andas for ravin' about him afterwards--well, you never can tell, can you?

After the play it took Uncle Jerry shakin' on one side and me on theother to bring Jake back to life from his woodsawin' act. 

"Ah, quit it and give the orchestra a chance!" says I. "And keep themelbows down! Don't try to stretch here; wait until you get back to theopen fields for that. Yes, it's all over, and you're about to butt intosociety; so for Heaven's sake come out of the trance!"

Not havin' a stretcher handy, we drags him out to the curb, and I blowssome more of my expense account against a taxi, which lands us safe andsound at this Fifth-ave. Number up in the 70's. "Guests of Miss MarjorieEllins, " was to be the password, and the flunky in satin pants at thedoor seems to have been well posted. 

"Yes, sir; right this way, sir, " says he, wavin' us down the hall andshootin' us into a little conservatory nook. "The gentlemen from Maineare to wait here, and you are to meet Miss Ellins at the foot of thegrand staircase. She will be down in a moment, sir. "

"I get you, " says I, and, after cautionin' Jake to keep on his feetuntil I came back, I slips out and posts myself behind a potted palmwhere I could watch the early arrivals comin' down from the cloakrooms. 

It wa'n't a long wait; for pretty soon down floats Mildred and Marjorie, all got up in flossy party dresses and fairly quiverin' with excitement. 

"Oh, you dear boy!" gushes Millie. "And he is really here, is he? Mysplendid Hermes! Tell me, what did he have to say about it all?"

"Who, Jake?" says I. "Mostly he was beefin' about the way his neck achedfrom the collar. "

"Isn't that just like a man!" says Marjorie. 

"I don't care, " says Mildred. "I am just crazy to see him once more. Iwant to look into his eyes and----"

"Then step lively, " says I, "before they get glued up for good. Downthis way. Here you are, in there among the palms! See, there's UncleJerry rubberin' around!"

"Oh, yes!" squeals Millie, clappin' her hands. "Dear old Uncle Jerry!But--but, Torchy, where is--er--his nephew?"

"Eh?" says I. "Why, there on the bench, doin' the yawn act!"

"Wha-a-a-at!" gasps Millie, steppin' in for a closer look. 

"Straight goods, " says I. "That's Hermes the lobster picker. "

"That!" says Mildred, shrinkin' back. "Never!"

"Huh!" says I. "I told him you wouldn't know him if he didn't keep thatface cavity of his closed. He's been doin' that since eight o'clock. Buthe's the real article, serial number guaranteed by Uncle Jerry. "

"No, no!" squeals Mildred, covering her face with her hands and backin'away. "There's been some dreadful mistake! That isn't my Hermes. Hewasn't at all like that, I tell you, not at all!"

Well, we was grouped there in the hall holdin' our foolish debate, whenthis strange gent strolls by huntin' for some place to light up hiscigarette. And just as one of us mentions Hermes again I notices himturn and prick up his ears. Next thing I knew, he's stepped over and islookin' kind of smilin' and expectant at Mildred. 

"I beg pardon if I'm wrong, " says he; "but isn't this the--er--ah--theyoung lady whom I had the pleasure of----"

But that's enough for Millie, just hearin' his voice. Down comes herhands off her face. "Oh, I knew it! I knew it!" she squeals. "Hermes!"

And, say, I don't know how that old Greek looked; but if he had thebuild and lines of this chap he sure was some ornamental. Anyway, theone we had with us would have been a medal winner in any kind ofclothes. Also he had the light wavy hair and the dark blue eyes ofMillie's description, with some of the vacation tan left on his cheeks. 

Marjorie's the next to be heard from. 

"Why, Mr. Brooke Hartley!" says she, stickin' out her hand. 

"By Jove!" says he. "Bob Ellins' little sister, eh? Hello, Marjorie!"

"Then--then----" gasps Mildred, lookin' from one to the other kind ofdazed, "then you aren't a lobster man, after all?"

"Nothing so useful as that, I'm afraid, " says Hartley. 

"But why were you there on that island?" she insists. 

"Well, " says he, "hay fever was my chief excuse. I pretend to paintmarines, you know, and that's another; but really I suppose I was justbeing lazy and enjoying the society of Uncle Jerry. "

"But he isn't your uncle, truly?" says Mildred. 

"Well, " says Hartley, "it's a relationship I share with most of thesummer people on that section of the Maine coast. "

Then a light seemed to break on Mildred. She blushes to her eartips andhides her face in her hands once more. "Oh, oh!" she groans. "And Icalled you Hermes!"

"You did, " says he. "And nothing ever tickled my vanity half so much. I've lived on that for the last two months. Please don't take it back!"

"I--I won't, " says Millie, lettin' loose one of them rovin' glances athim sort of shy and fetchin'. 

And, say, all tinted up that way, you could hardly blame him forgrabbin' both her hands. Not knowin' what might happen next, I proceedsto break in. 

"In the meantime, " says I, "what'll you have done with this perfectlygood nephew we've got on our hands back there on the bench?"

"That one!" says Millie. "Oh, I never want to see him again! Tell him togo away and--and go to bed. "

"That'll be welcome news for Jaky, all right, " says I. 

CHAPTER XIX

WHEN MISS VEE THREW THE DARE

Say, I guess I might as well tell it right out; for, from all I hearabout myself, my dome must have a glass top that puts all the insideworks on exhibition. There's Zenobia, for instance, who's myhalf-step-adopted aunt, as you might say. Now, she ain't one to sleutharound, or cross-examine, or anything like that; but what she's missedof this little affair that I ain't breathed a word of to anybody ismore'n I've got the nerve to ask. 

Course, it was her put that corkin' silver frame on Vee's picture in thefirst place. Just found it on my bureau, you know, and, without pumpin'me for any account of who and why, goes and unbelts reckless for thesterling decoration. A perfectly nice old girl, Zenobia is, if you askme. More'n a year ago that was, and there hasn't been a word passedabout that photo since. 

Yes, it's been on the bureau all the time. Why not? When a young ladyfriend of yours is dragged off to Europe by her aunt, and sends you astunnin' picture of herself for you to remember her by, you don't turnit face to the wall or chuck it in the ashcan, do you? Maybe two yearsit would be, she said, before she came back. It ain't so long to lookover your shoulder at; but when you come to try squintin' ahead that farit's diff'rent. I tried it and gave it up. A whole lot can happen in twoyears; so what was the use? Besides, look who she is, and then think ofall I ain't!

Couldn't help seein' the picture there night and mornin', though, couldI? Nothin' mushy about glancin' casual at it now and then, was there?You know I ain't got any too many friends, --not so many I has to have awaitin' list, --and outside of Zenobia and Aunt Martha, and here andthere one of the lady typewriters at the office that throws me a smileon and off, they're mostly men. And as for fam'ly, mother, or father, orsisters, or brothers, or real aunts--well, you know how I'm fixed. I'mthe whole fam'ly myself. 

So you see, when I looks at Miss Vee there, and thinks how nice she wasto me them two times when we met by accident, --once at the dance where Iwas subbin' in the cloakroom, and again at the tea where I'd been sentto trail Mr. Robert--well, even if she hadn't been such a queen, I don'tthink I'd forgot her right away. Course, though, as for figurin' outwhy she ever noticed me at all, that's a myst'ry I had to pass up. 

Must have been soon after she went away that I begun sizin' up somecritical the gen'ral style and get up of the party whose hair I wascombin' and whose face I was washin' more or less reg'lar. Startin' withthe collar, I discovered that mine gen'rally had saw edges, gaped in themiddle, and got some soiled about the third day. From then on I've beenparticular about havin' a close front collar and puttin' on a fresh oneevery mornin', whether I need it or not. Next I got wise to the factthat one tie wouldn't last more'n six months without showin' signs ofwear, and it wa'n't long before I had quite a collection hangin' overthe gasjet. Up to then I didn't have the tooth powder habit very strong;but it's chronic with me now. See the result?

I didn't stop to give myself reasons for gettin' so finicky; but the onemain fact loomin' up ahead seemed to be that some day or other Miss Veewould be comin' back, and that maybe I might be on hand to sortof--well, you know how you'll frame things up? I was to be vicepresident of the Corrugated by that time, most likely, and they'd besendin' me abroad to look up important matters. That's how it was goin'to happen that I'd find out where Vee was stayin'. Not that I'd think ofbuttin' in on her and the aunt. Not much! Just remember I'd seen Aunty!

No, I was to be on the steamer, leanin' over the rail careless, whenthey came aboard to go home. I was to be costumed all in gray. I don'tknow just why; but it looks kind of distinguished, specially if you'vegot gray hair. Not that I could count on my ruddy thatch frostin' upmuch in a couple of years; but somehow nothing but gray seemed to fillthe bill. I'd planned on gettin' one of them gray tweed suits such asMr. Robert wears back from London, and a long gray ulster that'd make melook tall, and a gray cloth hat to match, and gray gloves. Get thepicture?

Well, there I am by the rail, lookin' sort of distinguished and boredand all that, when up comes Miss Vee and Aunty. All I could think of Veewearin' was that pink silk affair she had on at the dance, whichwouldn't be exactly what a young lady'd start out on an ocean trip with, would it?

She'd be some jarred at seein' me, it's likely; but I'd lift the graylid real dignified, throw back the ulster so she'd get the full effectof the tweed suit, and shoot off some remark about how "one always meetsone's most chawming friends when one travels. " Then I'd be presented tothe aunt; and after that was over, why it would be just a romp down thehome stretch, with yours truly all the entry in sight. Simply a case ofme and Vee promenadin' the deck by moonlight for hours and hours, andgettin' to be real old friends. 

But pipe dreams like that don't often come true, do they? I ain't got sofar as ownin' a pair of gray gloves, and not a word has been said aboutmakin' me vice president, when along comes this foreign picturepostcard, showin' the Boss de Bologna on one side, and on the other thisscribbled message:

 We sail for home on the 10th. Rah! Rah! Count Schlegelhessen is coming over with us. He's a dear. V. A. H. 

Jolted! Say, I was up and down so many times durin' the next few hoursI'd most meet myself comin' and goin'. Miss Vee was on her way over! I'dbounce at that thought, and get all kind of warmed up inside. CountSchutzenfest is coming with her, and he's a dear! Bang! I'd strikebottom again, with a chilly feelin' under my vest. 

Wa'n't anything more'n I might have looked for, of course. Aunty's oneof the kind that would pick out a Count for Miss Vee, and there wasplenty of Counts over there to be picked; but somehow I couldn't pictureVee goin' wild over one of them foreign ginks. It was clear she had, though. There it was on the postcard, "He's a dear!"

"Huh!" thinks I. "Most of 'em are dear--at any price. "

It wa'n't for hours, either, that I simmers down enough for the thoughtto strike me that I didn't have any special license to hold a court ofinquiry over whether Miss Vee was comin' back with a Count or not. Afterthat I had time to debate with myself whether I ought just to forgiveand forget, goin' through life cold and sad; or if I should hide mybusted heart the best way I could and pretend I didn't care. 

Was there any use in my goin' down to the pier and standin' in thebackground to watch her come ashore with her dear Count? I could seemyself! Oh, yes, I had it all doped out along them lines! As RobertMantell would put it over, "She has went out of muh life for-r-r-rever. "Ah yes! I could have stood for anything but one of them sausage Counts. 

So I stows her picture away in the bottom bureau drawer, burns thepostcard, and dodges Zenobia's eye when she looks at me curious. It wasall over. Yet I knew to an hour when her steamer would dock, and themornin' of the day it was due I rolls out of the feathers at six A. M. Just as natural as could be too, I gets out the new safety razor I'd hadhid away for a couple of months past, and inside of fifteen minutes I'dhad my first shave. Does that get by them keen eyes of Zenobia! Not fora minute!

"Ah!" says she, pattin' me sort of casual on one cheek as she comes downto breakfast. 

That's all; but she not only takes in the shave, but the best blue sergesuit I've put on, and the birthday tie, and the Sunday shoes. I onlygrins sheepish and slides out as soon as I can. 

You see, accordin' to my plans, I wouldn't have gone near that steamerfor any sum you could name. That being the case, it was odd I shouldcall up the pier and find out if the boat was on time at Quarantine. Also it was some strange the way I opened up on Piddie. 

"Say, Mr. Piddie, " says I, "any prospects of an outside run for meto-day?"

"Not in the least, " says he. "I suppose, though, you would like a chanceto waste some of the company's time on the street?"

"Me?" says I. "Why, I'd hate it. I was only afraid I'd have to go, withall this inside work to be done. "

"Humph!" says he. "You needn't fear. I shall see that nothing of thesort happens. "

"Ah, you're a bird, you are!" says I. 

"Perhaps, " says Piddie. 

"Then climb a tree and twitter, " says I; for it made me grouchy to thinkI'd let a bonehead like him get a rise out of me. 

The more I chewed it over, though, the stronger I was for breakin' looseabout dockin' time. Maybe I didn't want to go to the pier; but if he wasbent on throwin' the gate on me, that was another proposition. I gotsorer and sorer and I was on the point of chuckin' the job at Piddie'shead and walkin' out on my own hook, when who should come stormin' in, scowlin' and grumblin' to himself, but Mr. Robert. And he had a worseattack than I did. 

"Torchy, " says he, wheelin' around halfway to his office, "ring up PierUmpty-nine and find out when that blasted steamer is due. "

"The Kaiser boat?" says I. "She'll dock about two-forty-five. "

"Eh?" says he, some startled. "Now, how the----Never mind, though. Sureabout the time, are you?"

"Yep, " says I. 

"Dash it all!" says he. "That's Marjorie, though! Any word from theConsolidated Bridge people yet?"

"Not yet, " says I, and slam goes his door. 

Took me three minutes by the clock to dope out the combination too, which shows how gummed up my gears was. But when I'd fitted them tworemarks together, about Marjorie and the bridge people, and hadremembered the cablegram from Sister Marjorie sayin' how their party'dbeen broken up on account of sickness and she was comin' homealone--why, it was all like readin' it off a bulletin. Marjorie'sarrivin' durin' business hours was likely to mess up the schedule. Course, if the bridge concern didn't send word----

I'd got to that point, when in drifts my old A. D. T. Runnin' mate, Hunch Leary, draggin' his feet behind him and chewin' gum industrious. Now Hunch don't look like a tempter. He's plain homely, that's all. Butcomin' just as he did, with Piddie over there glarin' at mesuspicious--well, I just had to do it. 

"Sure I got blanks on me?" says Hunch. "Wot then?"

Right under Piddie's nose he fixes it up too, and waits while I takesthe phony message in to Mr. Robert. It wa'n't such a raw one, either;not as if it had sent him off to wait at some hotel. "Will try to getaround about two-thirty Trimble, " was all it said. And how did we knowTrimble wouldn't try, anyway?

"That settles it, " says Mr. Robert, crumplin' the yellow sheet. "Torchy, you must do the family honors. "

"Do which?" says I, with business of great surprise. 

"Meet my sister Marjorie, see that she gets through the customs withoutlanding in jail, and take her home in a taxi. Think you're equal to it, eh?" says he. 

"I could make a stab, " says I. 

"I'll risk that much, " says he. 

And before there's any chance for a revise I've marched by Piddie withmy tongue out and am pikin' towards the North River with a pier pass inone pocket and expense money in another, specially commissioned to meetthe very steamer that's bringin' in Miss Vee and her Count. All of whichshows how curious things will coincide if you use your bean a little tohelp 'em along. 

Well, you know how it is waitin' in a push of people for a steamer. Everybody's excited and anxious and keyed up, ready to jump at everywhistle, and stretchin' their necks for a peek down the river. It's ascatchin' as the baseball fever when you're in a mob watchin' the scoresposted. I finds myself actin' just as eager as any, and me only doin'messenger work. 

Finally the boat shows up; but instead of sailin' in graceful andprompt, she shuts off steam and lays to out in the middle of the river, about as lifeless as a storage warehouse afloat, while a dozen or sodinky tugs begin pushin' and pullin' to get her somewhere near the pier. Then folks start makin' wild guesses as to which is their friends. 

"There's Uncle Fred, Willie!" squeals a fat woman next to me, proddin'me vigorous in the ribs. 

"Not mine, ma'am, " says I. 

"Oh, excuse me, " says she. "Why, there's Willie, over there. Hey, Willie! See Uncle Fred?"

It was that way all around me, and me not even doin' the wave act. Afterawhile though, I spots Marjorie. There was no doubt about it being her;for she looms up among that crowd along the rail like a prize Floridaorange in a basket of lemons. It's plain Marjorie ain't lost any weightby her trip abroad, and she looks more like a corn fed Juliet than ever. 

As she wa'n't expectin' me, but was huntin' for Brother Robert, I didn'tsee the sense in shoutin'. I went on lookin' over the rest of thepassengers, sort of bracin' myself for any discovery I might make. Wouldthey show up arm in arm, or with their heads close together, or how?

I'd looked the boat over from bow to stern and back again about threetimes before I happens to take another glance at Marjorie. And there, almost hid by one side of her, was a young lady in a white sailor hatwith some straw colored hair showin' under the wide brim, and a pair ofgray eyes that I couldn't mistake anywhere. It was Vee, all right; justas slim and graceful and classy as ever, with the same independent tiltto her chin, and the same Mayflower pink showin' in her cheeks. 

And, say, I want to tell you that about then I was glad I came! Itdidn't make any difference if there was half a dozen Counts, and a Dukeand what not besides; just seein' her once more, even if I didn't get achance to put over a word, was worth while. And right there I makes upmy mind that, Count or no Count, I'm goin' to push to the front. 

"Oh, you Miss Vee!" I megaphones through my hands, just as enthusiasticas anybody on the pier. 

About the third call catches her ear. She sort of starts and gazes atthe crowd kind of puzzled. There's such a mob, though, she don't pick meout. I could see her turn to Marjorie and say something, and then I getswise to the fact that the four-eyed gent with the bristly hair and thehalf gray set of shavin' brush mustaches, standin' next to Marjorie, wasone of their party. Miss Vee leans over and passes along some remark tohim, and he shrugs his shoulders and says something that makes 'em bothlaugh. 

"If that's the Count, " thinks I, "he's a punk specimen. "

A couple of minutes later the boat comes alongside and the passengersbreak away from the rail to get in line for the gangplank. As I'm thereto welcome Miss Marjorie Ellins, I has to post myself near the Esection, and inside of fifteen minutes she's all through havin' hersuitcase and steamer trunk pawed over, and leavin' the hold baggage tobe claimed later, we streams out to where I had a cab waitin'. 

"Is it all aboard, Miss Marjorie?" says I. 

"Not yet, " says she. "You see, I've asked Vee to come home with me fordinner--the girl I met on the steamer. You don't mind waiting, do you?"

Did I? Say, nobody would suspect it, I guess, by the grin I had on whenshe and Aunty and the four-eyed party comes trailin' out. 

"Say, Miss Marjorie, " says I, "is that Count Schutzenbund?"

"Schlegelhessen, " says Marjorie, "and he's a perfect----"

"Yes, I've heard he was, " says I. "Little antique, though, ain't he?"

"Why, he isn't forty!" says Marjorie. "And he's just too----"

There wa'n't time for any more bouquets, though; for the trio was tooclose. Must have been some of a surprise for Vee to see me waitin'there, and for a bit she don't seem to make out just who it is. Thatonly lasts a second, though. Then them gray eyes of hers lights up, andthem thin lips curls into a smile, and she holds out both hands in thatquick way of hers. 

"Why, it's Torchy, isn't it?" says she, half laughin'. 

"Uh-huh, " says I, lettin' the grin spread wider. "Can't shake the nameor the hair. "

"Never try, " says she. "Look, Aunty, here's Torchy!"

"Torchy?" says the wide old girl, inspectin' me doubtful through herlorgnette. "Why, Verona, I don't remember----"

"Oh, yes, you do, Aunty, " says Miss Vee. "Anyway, I've told you abouthim, and it's so jolly to have some one to meet us. Thank you, Torchy. Now let's see, Marjorie, how do we divide up? Aunty goes to herhotel--and--and where do you go, Count?"

"Me, I am--what you call--perplex, " says the Count, and he sure lookedit. "But where the young ladies go, there I will follow. _Hein?_"

He shrugs his shoulders again and puts on such a comical face that it'sno wonder the girls giggled. And that one act maps out the Count for me. He's just one of them middle aged cut-ups that's amusin' to have around, if the sessions ain't too frequent. Follow the young ladies, would he?Say, there was only three inside seats to my taxi, and I hadn't plannedon ridin' with the driver. 

"Lemme fix that for you, Count, " says I. "Hey, Cabby!" and I whistles upa second taxi. "What's the number, ma'am?" I asks of Aunty. "Oh, Perzazzer hotel. Get that, Mr. Shuffer? Here you are, Count, right inhere!"

"But is it that--er--the young ladies, you see, " he protests. "I hafbromise myself the bleasure to----"

"Yes, that'll be all right too, " says I. "They'll do the followin', though, about a block behind. In you go, now!" and I shoves himalongside of Aunty, shuts the door, and gives the startin' signal. 

Maybe it was a nervy thing, shuntin' the Count off like that, andMarjorie seems sort of disappointed and dazed to find he ain't comin'with us, but by the twinkle in Miss Vee's eyes I guessed I hadn'toverplayed my part. Anyway, we had a nice chatty ride on the way up, with Marjorie doin' most of the chattin'. Looked like that was going tobe about as far as I'd figure too, for there wa'n't a chance of mygettin' a word in edgewise; but when we fetched up in front of theEllins' house Miss Vee breaks in with delay orders. 

"No, Marjorie, " says she; "you first. Run in and see if it's all right;and if there isn't a dinner party on, or a houseful of guests, I'llcome. No, I shall wait until you do. "

Course, she didn't plan it that way; but it gives me about six minutesthat was all to the good. 

"You didn't mind my sidetrackin' the Count, eh?" says I. 

"It was lovely--and perfectly absurd!" says Vee. "You know he boresAunty to death, and Aunty bores him. He had planned on meetingMarjorie's mother, too. "

"Then I mussed things up, didn't I?" says I. 

"I believe you did it purposely, you wretch!" says she, shakin' a fingerat me. 

"Who wouldn't?" says I. "See what I get by it!"

"Silly!" says she. "I've a mind to rumple those red curls. "

"Go on, " says I, takin' my hat off. "They'd wiggle for joy. "

"Then I'll do nothing of the kind, " says she. "You haven't even said youwere glad to see me. "

"I'm keepin' it a dead secret, " says I. "What happened to Europe; was iton the fritz?"

"Poky, " says she. "And they found out I was no musical genius, afterall. Aunty's disgusted with me. "

"She ought to take something for her taste, " says I. 

"Oh!" says she, tiltin' her head on one side. "Then you still approve ofme?"

"That's the only motto on my wall, " says I, "only I put it stronger. "

"Silly!" says she once more. 

And then--well, I was watchin' the pink spread up her cheeks, and wassort of gazin' into them big gray eyes, and gen'rally takin' one of themlong, lingerin' looks; and we was both leanin' back not so very farapart, with the slides of the cab shuttin' everything else out--and thenall of a sudden I heard her sort of whisper "Well?"--and--and--Ah, say!With a pair of cherry ripes as close as that, what else was there to do?

"Why, Torchy!" says she, jumpin' away. "What made you dare----Quick, now, here comes Marjorie. Over on the front seat! And--and perhaps Ishall see you again sometime. "

"Your eyesight'll be bad if you don't, Vee, " says I. "Good-by. "

Just before the Ellins' front door closed behind her I caught the waveof a handkerchief; so I guess she can't be so awful mad. Ride back tothe office? Say, I paid off the taxi and floated down Fifth-ave. Aslight as if it was paved with gas balloons. 

"Huh!" grunts Mr. Robert, after I'd made my report. "Brought home asteamer friend, did she? Who did you say it was?"

"Well, between you and me, " says I, "it's Vee. You remember--the one atthe girls' boardin' school tea party when----"

"Eh?" says he. "Ah, that one? Then it wasn't--er--exactly a hardship foryou to meet this particular steamer, eh, Torchy?"

"Do I look it?" says I. 

And Mr. Robert he winks back; for, as I happen to know, he's been therehimself. It's that friendly wink though, that makes me remember puttin'up that game on him with the fake message, and somehow I felt cheap andmean. Here he was, treatin' me white and square, and I'd been handin'him a piece of fresh bunk. 

"Mr. Robert, " says I, standin' pigeontoed and flushin' up some, "youremember that message from the bridge people--Trimble, it was signed?"

"Oh, yes, " says he. "He came, all right, about a quarter to three. "

"Gee!" says I, and walks out. 

For when things start comin' your way in clusters like that, what's theuse tryin' to duck?

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EDGAR RICE BURROUGH'S NOVELS

May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. 

TARZAN THE UNTAMED

Tells of Tarzan's return to the life of the ape-man in his search forvengeance on those who took from him his wife and home. 

JUNGLE TALES OF TARZAN

Records the many wonderful exploits by which Tarzan proves his right toape kingship. 

A PRINCESS OF MARS

Forty-three million miles from the earth--a succession of the weirdestand most astounding adventures in fiction. John Carter, American, findshimself on the planet Mars, battling for a beautiful woman, with theGreen Men of Mars, terrible creatures fifteen feet high, mounted onhorses like dragons. 

THE GODS OF MARS

Continuing John Carter's adventures on the Planet Mars, in which he doesbattle against the ferocious "plant men, " creatures whose mighty tailsswished their victims to instant death, and defies Issus, the terribleGoddess of Death, whom all Mars worships and reveres. 

THE WARLORD OF MARS

Old acquaintances, made in the two other stories, reappear, Tars Tarkas, Tardos Mors and others. There is a happy ending to the story in theunion of the Warlord, the title conferred upon John Carter, with DejahThoris. 

THUVIA, MAID OF MARS

The fourth volume of the series. The story centers around the adventuresof Carthoris, the son of John Carter and Thuvia, daughter of a MartianEmperor. 

GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD'S STORIES OF ADVENTURE

May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. 

THE RIVER'S END

A story of the Royal Mounted Police. 

THE GOLDEN SNARE

Thrilling adventures in the Far Northland. 

NOMADS OF THE NORTH

The story of a bear-cub and a dog. 

KAZAN

The tale of a "quarter-strain wolf and three-quarters husky" tornbetween the call of the human and his wild mate. 

BAREE, SON OF KAZAN

The story of the son of the blind Grey Wolf and the gallant part heplayed in the lives of a man and a woman. 

THE COURAGE OF CAPTAIN PLUM

The story of the King of Beaver Island, a Mormon colony, and his battlewith Captain Plum. 

THE DANGER TRAIL

A tale of love, Indian vengeance, and a mystery of the North. 

THE HUNTED WOMAN

A tale of a great fight in the "valley of gold" for a woman. 

THE FLOWER OF THE NORTH

The story of Fort o' God, where the wild flavor of the wilderness isblended with the courtly atmosphere of France. 

THE GRIZZLY KING

The story of Thor, the big grizzly. 

ISOBEL

A love story of the Far North. 

THE WOLF HUNTERS

A thrilling tale of adventure in the Canadian wilderness. 

THE GOLD HUNTERS

The story of adventure in the Hudson Bay wilds. 

THE COURAGE OF MARGE O'DOONE

Filled with exciting incidents in the land of strong men and women. 

BACK TO GOD'S COUNTRY

A thrilling story of the Far North. The great Photoplay was made fromthis book. 

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK