*-,
 
 Ios
 
 RUMMYNISCENCES
 
 RUMMYNISGENCES 
 
 BY 
 FREDERICK P. KAFKA 
 
 With Illustrations by Walt Lantz 
 
 THE CORNHILL PUBLISHING CO. 
 
 BOSTON
 
 Copyright 1921 
 
 by 
 The Cornhill Publishing Company 
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 Second Printing, January,
 
 Dedicated 
 TO MY FRIENDS 
 
 and all the other " regular fellows" who erstwhile 
 spread joviality and cheer throughout this now 
 arid land. 
 
 2130674
 
 RUMMYNISCENCES 
 
 Of the days of conviviality, good-fellowship and 
 liquid cheer, of the days when warm friendships 
 were cemented among genial companions, whose gam- 
 bols banished care, brightened life, and made reminis- 
 cence a delight.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 FOREWORD xi 
 
 ACE HIGH ! 3 
 
 Wherein is related how the Duke, after rusti- 
 cating to recuperate his nerves, started to roll 
 and hit the high spots on all six. 
 
 "HANDS UP!" 23 
 
 A crime wave, a series of hold-ups, a sequence 
 of drinks, and the denouement ! 
 
 "STUPID" AND THE GOATS 33 
 
 In which the " Goat" butts his persecutors and 
 sheds his horns. 
 
 THE WORM THAT TURNED 49 
 
 Wherein Clabby makes a suggestion which is 
 promptly acted upon, much to his subsequent 
 amazement and disgust. 
 
 A ROLL THROUGH A NIGHT 55 
 
 The log of a bibulous Odyssey and what 
 befell. 
 
 WESTERN UNION No. 2074 77 
 
 The tale of how a stormy night and a Wall 
 Street leak culminated in "the Widdy 
 O'Kane's mirricle." 
 
 VERY GOOD, EDDIE! 91 
 
 In which Finkel makes a "little mistake" and 
 Eddie acquires a fine hang-over and a new job.
 
 x Contents 
 
 PAGE 
 
 'TwixT Two AND DAWN 103 
 
 Being the tale of two belated prowlers, a can of 
 milk and a cluster of sandwiches and hoboes. 
 
 THE STOIC TAKES THE COUNT 117 
 
 In which philosophy is floored by a combina- 
 tion of humidity, corpulency and "general 
 cussedness." 
 
 THE MISOGAMIST. 125 
 
 Wherein is chronicled how Joe's studies in 
 juvenile psychology resulted in a complete 
 transformation in his personal appearance, 
 his philosophy and his marital views. 
 
 THE TALE OF THE PATCH . 147 
 
 Setting forth how Buck and the Shrimp took 
 their " hang-overs " out for an airing, and how 
 Buck became possessed of the patch and his 
 discomfiture thereat. 
 
 APRIL SHOWERS ! 155 
 
 Which is not a meteorological discourse, but 
 a recital of Dame Fortune's fickle treatment 
 of "The Revere Sisters."
 
 FOREWORD 
 
 January 16th, 1920. Who, that ever loved good 
 cheer, will forget this date? The date that marked 
 the demise of the jolly reign of King Alcohol and the 
 termination of his era of good fellowship! 
 
 On that night, the last on which the serving of 
 spirituous beverages was permissible in the clubs, 
 cafes, and all the other haunts of congenial souls, on 
 that night, sorrowful millions celebrated feverishly 
 throughout the land, and toasted the glorious days 
 that, on the stroke of midnight, were doomed to become 
 a memory. 
 
 The circle of regulars that attended this final session 
 of the Sun Dodgers, in the tap-room of one of our metro- 
 politan clubs, sipped their high-balls soberly and de- 
 bated the future solemnly. Even Dennis, Dennis 
 of the stolid visage and the flat pedals, carefully 
 balancing his tray-full of exhilarators and bracers, 
 pussy-footed about with a funereal expression as he 
 officiated at the obsequies of his heretofore generous 
 lord and master, John Barleycorn. 
 
 " What's to become of all the old familiar types, 
 the popular good-fellow, the ubiquitous man-about- 
 town, the East Side's 'regular guy,' the cabaret hounds,
 
 xii Foreword 
 
 the stage-door Johnnies, the spaghetti twirlers, the 
 chop suey fiends, and all the other characters that made 
 up the maelstrom of the Great White Way?" wailed 
 the Shrimp. 
 
 "How's a fellow ever going to get to know another 
 fellow well enough to call him by his first name, without 
 liquor?" queried Buck. 
 
 "Where'll the boss take his stenog., and how will 
 the married men manage to get away with it hereafter? " 
 asked the Duke. 
 
 "And the married women, as well!" added the Mis- 
 ogamist. 
 
 "Who's going to listen to anyone's troubles, without 
 mahogany and brass rail environment?" demanded 
 Cliff. 
 
 "What'll become of the poison ivy quartets, the 
 whiskey tenors, and the hop-sodden bassos? Who's 
 going to sing at all, outside of the churches?" added 
 'Stupe' Crosby. 
 
 "Who'll coin new stories, or resurrect the old ones? 
 Who'll bet or buy, frolic or fight, gamble or gambol, 
 or start or finish anything whatever?" growled Eddie. 
 
 "Oh, cheer up, fellows! The old sun will surely 
 dissipate the clouds again," commented the placid 
 Misogamist. " We'll have to find new diversions, 
 and we will. We're all in the same boat and with
 
 Foreword xiii 
 
 plenty of company, too, if that's any consolation. 
 And they certainly can't take this from us. Even 
 though we never drank another drop, we'd still have 
 star averages three and five star, mostly. 
 
 We've all been through the mill, too, and we've 
 lived lived and laughed and made merry as coming 
 generations never will. We've had our fling, and now 
 for the simple life, the old log fire and the favorite old 
 briar or calabash, while you sip a little of the old Scotch 
 you've stored away and in re very live over again the 
 jovial evenings and jolly adventures, henceforth, but 
 memories." 
 
 "Reminiscences!" murmured the Duke, dolefully. 
 
 " Rummyniscences ! " amended the Shrimp. 
 
 Whereupon they delved into the past, banished 
 gloom and kept Dennis busy until well into the dawn as 
 they recalled many a prank and escapade. 
 
 Here, for the delectation of others of their ilk, who 
 likewise have lived, and for the edification of the coming 
 generation, which will journey through life more 
 sedately and certainly more soberly, are transcribed 
 some of the 'rummyniscences' related on that memorable 
 night. 'Rummyniscences' not of roystering and 
 drunken orgies, but rather tales that depict the roseate 
 conviviality of yesterday, the spontaneous and whole- 
 souled wit and humor, the generous impulses and the
 
 xiv Foreword 
 
 warm comradeships, which engendered geniality, senti- 
 ment, and love of fellowman, and helped to banish the 
 dull, grey periods. 
 
 May their perusal serve to recall similar escapades 
 and elicit an occasional reminiscent smile!
 
 ACE HIGH! 
 
 Wherein is related how the Duke, after rusticating 
 to recuperate his nerves, started to roll and hit the high 
 spots on all six.
 
 Ace High! 
 
 I. 
 
 nf^HE Sun-Dodgers were in the midst of a hilarious 
 session. The drinks had just been pinned on the 
 Shrimp, who good-naturedly submitted to the panning 
 that followed his inadvertent disclosure of the sequel 
 to a little episode of the night before. Presently the 
 Duke came to his rescue. 
 
 "The worst 'bone' I ever pulled," he drawled, "was 
 up in the White Mountains, during " 
 
 But let us interrupt him. Those of our readers who 
 are not thoroughly versed in the slang of the Metropolis, 
 may require elucidation. 
 
 A "bone" then, in base-ball parlance, signifies a 
 bone-head play. You don't quite get me yet? Well 
 then, in refined palaver, a " bone" is a faux pas. Vous 
 comprenez, maintenant, n'est ce pas? Bien! Well 
 then, let's go or rather, let us interrupt further.
 
 4 Rummyniscences 
 
 Surely you know the Duke, or at any rate, his type. 
 Well-groomed, faultlessly tailored, debonnair, and full 
 of assurance. Not precisely good-looking, but invari- 
 ably looks good. Twinkling eyes, a humorous mouth, 
 and a personality oozing conviviality and good-nature. 
 Wonderful raconteur and entertainer. Bank-roll, 
 but no bank account. Long on wit and wits. You 
 know him! Of course! Every one does. 
 
 And now that you and the Duke are on speaking 
 terms, we'll permit him to continue his tale. 
 
 "The worst 'bone' I ever pulled," proceeded the 
 Duke, " was up in the White Mountains, during the fall 
 that I was rusticating there, recuperating from a regular 
 series of orgies. 
 
 Swell hotel, but absolutely dead. Only a sprinkling 
 of guests. Fine collection of proper and solemn an- 
 tiques of both sexes, who lolled about in rockers and 
 steamer rugs, and hit the quilts by nine. Nothing 
 stirring but the leaves. Nothing wild but the flowers. 
 Right you are, Shrimp, you said it! I was a square peg 
 in a round hole, sure enough, but it was just what my 
 frazzled nerves needed. 
 
 I made no acquaintances. It wasn't being done. 
 So I just moped around and 'cured' by myself, like the 
 rest, till one evening the old lady who sat on my left 
 at dinner, tripped as she got up from the table, and
 
 Ace High! 5 
 
 spilled herself, her decorum, and my coffee, all plumb 
 into my lap. 
 
 Great embarrassment and profuse apologies on her 
 part. Chesterfieldian deprecation on mine. And thus 
 began our acquaintance. 
 
 Fine, quaint old lady. Plainly but primly attired 
 in black silk. Nice gray hair, kindly eyes. I lost a 
 mother like that many years ago, and it afforded me 
 pleasure to be gallant to the dear old soul, and to 
 brighten her lonesome sojourn amid the depressing 
 atmosphere of the now practically forsaken hotel. 
 
 So I lent her my arm as we promenaded the spa- 
 cious verandahs, and tucked her snugly into her rugs and 
 shawls in her favorite arm-chair, during the rest periods, 
 the while we decorously discussed Ibsen, Maeterlinck, 
 Christian Science, Suffrage and kindred exciting themes. 
 
 And as we gradually exhausted conventional topics 
 and indulged in a little harmless scandal-mongering, the 
 dear old lady proved quite entertaining and related some 
 really droll anecdotes, replete with quaint, refined humor. 
 
 She laughed heartily, too, at the tales I reeled off 
 to her, especially those I spun at my own expense. 
 
 In short, we were getting on famously, and en- 
 joyed ourselves, much to the obvious envy of the other 
 guests, who surveyed us crabbedly and with supercilious 
 aloofness.
 
 6 Rummyniscences 
 
 One evening as the twilight was falling and the air 
 grew chill I fell to coughing slightly, whereat my com- 
 panion solicitously insisted that I wear my heavy coat 
 and otherwise proceeded to mother me. 
 
 I politely turned down her suggestions of hot flan- 
 nels and mustard plasters. 
 
 " I'll kill that little cough in a jiffy," I replied. " I'll 
 prescribe myself a remedy that is better adapted to the 
 cravings of my disreputable constitution and soul. 
 Dinner won't be ready for half an hour, and if you'll 
 pardon me till then, I'll go to my room and mix myself 
 a brace of stiff cocktails. These, and a hot rum toddy 
 before going to bed, and I'll feel 'one hundred percent' 
 in the morning." 
 
 Her eyes twinkled and her lips curled slightly under 
 a suppressed smile. 
 
 "I've been coughing a bit myself," she vouchsafed. 
 
 "You don't say so!" I exclaimed. "Better let me 
 prescribe for your cold, too. I'll be back in two shakes 
 of a mixer." 
 
 With that, I dashed up-stairs to my room, mixed a 
 tasty Bronx which I poured into my thermos-bottle and 
 returned to the porch. 
 
 "I've brought the medicine," I announced solemnly. 
 
 " Thank you, doctor," she answered decorously. 
 
 Finally came the eve of our parting.
 
 Ace High! 7 
 
 "I leave early tomorrow morning," she informed me. 
 "A letter I received to-day, makes it necessary for me 
 to return home at once, so I'll bid you Good-bye now 
 and express to you my sincere thanks and appreciation 
 of your many courtesies." 
 
 "Nothing doing," I interrupted. "You can't leave 
 me flat like that. I'll see you off to the station in the 
 morning." 
 
 "Oh, that's very kind of you, but really you can't!" 
 she protested. " I'm leaving on the seven-thirty, and will 
 have to breakfast before seven. You've been altogether 
 too kind as it is, and " 
 
 "Well, I'm going to be on deck," I insisted. 
 "Many's the morning I've arisen before dawn to go 
 fishing or shooting, or some such stunt, and I'm not 
 going to let a few extra winks cheat me out of properly 
 seeing off my only friend in these dreary wilds!" 
 
 I made good in the morning, too, and was on hand 
 bright and early. Her eyes fairly shone and her appre- 
 ciation and gratitude were well worth hours of lazy 
 slumber. Presently the stage pulled up and we were 
 off for the station. 
 
 "You've been extremely kind, Mr. Barlow, and 
 have made very delightful and enjoyable a stay that 
 would otherwise have been most monotonous. I appre- 
 ciate your kindness and courtesy much more than I can
 
 8 Rummyniscences 
 
 say," said my companion, with much more of the same, 
 all of which I, of course, deprecated. 
 
 "I'll venture to ask you a little final favor," she 
 concluded. " I should regret to have our acquaintance 
 terminate here. Will you, after your return to New 
 York, afford me the pleasure of your society at dinner 
 some evening?" 
 
 "I'd be delighted," I replied heartily, and complied 
 with her request for my address and telephone number. 
 
 II. 
 
 Months rolled by. I was back in the big burg, hit- 
 ting the high spots again, when one evening I was 
 called to the 'phone in my bachelor apartment. 
 
 "Hello!" answered I. "Hello, Mr. Barlow," came 
 the response. "So glad to hear your voice again!" 
 It was my acquaintance of the White Mountains, Mrs. 
 well, Mrs. Hart. Her real name doesn't matter. 
 
 "I 'phoned to remind you of your promise to dine 
 with me. Does it still hold good?" she continued. 
 
 I had many engagements on my slate, but a gentle- 
 man's word is his bond. (Oh, well, have it your way, 
 Shrimp ! I wont stop to argue the point.) Well, to get 
 back to my 'phone call. 
 
 "Most certainly," I replied. "I'd be delighted. 
 Name the evening."
 
 Ace High! 9 
 
 " Oh, thank you ! Could you come tomorrow night? 
 I'm particularly anxious to have you tomorrow, if you 
 can possibly come." Which meant that I'd have to 
 pass up a perfectly easy poker game, but it was evident 
 that the old lady's heart was set on it, and the game 
 was scratched then and there. 
 
 "Surely," I replied, "I'll be on deck tomorrow 
 night. What time?" 
 
 I could hear her chuckle. "Why, you don't even 
 know where I live ! And when I tell you, you wont be 
 so ready to come." 
 
 Visions of the Bronx, Hoboken and far-off Canarsie 
 flitted through my mind, but I was game. 
 
 "I'll show up all right! Where do you live?" I 
 inquired. 
 
 "South Bethlehem, Pa.," said she, laughing audibly. 
 "I'm 'phoning you from there. And now, I suppose 
 I'll have to let you beg off and be horribly dis- 
 appointed." 
 
 Well, that was a bit rough. I was somewhat 
 groggy, but still game. I didn't beg off. On the con- 
 trary. 
 
 "You're a regular dear," she concluded, "and, oh, 
 I quite forgot. Won't you bring your evening 
 clothes? Good-bye! I'll be delighted to see you 
 again."
 
 10 Rummyniscences 
 
 III. 
 
 " Well, next morning I started for Jersey City to take 
 the Black Diamond Express for South Bethlehem, 
 about as enthusiastic as a sophomore on his way to 
 chapel. 
 
 At the train gate, a colored functionary in livery, 
 scrutinized the passengers closely. 
 
 "Are you Mr. Barlow, Suh?" he inquired, as I 
 passed through. "This way, Suh!" and relieving me 
 of my bag, he led me, while I followed somewhat 
 dazed, aboard a luxurious private car. Not a soul in 
 it, but I and my guide, who now, all grins and smirks, 
 became my zealous attendant. He divested me of my 
 coat and hat, ensconced me in a comfortable arm chair, 
 placed a small mahogany table alongside, deposited 
 thereon a bottle of Scotch and another of Rye, a high- 
 ball glass, some ice, and a bottle of White Rock. 
 
 Then he departed and returned with a box of 
 choice perfectos, which he likewise deposited before 
 me, to all of which I submitted quite passively. I can't 
 be riled in that way. 
 
 "Would you like a magazine or the morning paper, 
 suh? Or would you prefer a book from the library?" 
 he inquired. 
 
 "Explain, you ebony-hued minion of luxury!" 
 I commanded. "Explain, before you proceed with
 
 Ace High! 11 
 
 your nefarious temptations! Why am I thus Shang- 
 haied, and confined in solitary grandeur?" 
 
 "Mrs. Hart's orders, suh! This is her private car. 
 I'm to look after you, suh! Anything else, suh? Jess 
 you push dat button, if you wants Henry, suh That's 
 me!" and he departed for the reading matter, grinning 
 most affably. 
 
 The train pulled out. I lit a cigar, sipped some 
 Scotch, and ruminated. I've received many a jolt in 
 my peregrinations through this topsy-turvy world, 
 but tliis was a knock-out. I couldn't hook up my 
 quaint motherly old acquaintance of the White Moun- 
 tains with all this lavishness. 
 
 "Henry," I exploded, "who in the name of the 
 Saints or the devil is Mrs. Hart, anyway?" 
 
 "Lawd, suh!" replied Henry, aghast, "Mrs. Hart, 
 suh? Why, Mrs. Hart she done own this road, or at 
 least de big slice what Mr. Hart left her when he died. 
 She's de richest and bestest old lady in Pennsylvany, 
 suh! Surely, you knows her, suh! She done describe 
 you puffeckly! 'Watch out foh a thin gen'leman with 
 funny eyes, not much hair, a reddish nose and crooked 
 legs, and take good care of Mr. Barlow, Henry,' she 
 said. I spotted you at once, suh! Surely, you know 
 Mrs. Hart, suh!" 
 
 "Oh, yes, quite well, but well, never mind.
 
 12 Rummy niscences 
 
 That's all, Henry," I replied and Henry ambled away 
 while I proceeded to indulge in some more ruminating. 
 
 Some twenty miles of landscape reeled by as I 
 sipped my Scotch reflectively, but this solitary luxury 
 wasn't exactly my speed. 
 
 After the third high-ball, I arose, left the car and 
 wandered through the Plebeian Pullmans, seeking di- 
 version. 
 
 And whom should I spot in one of them but Windy 
 Tom Tupper and that other big noise, Sol. Bamberg. 
 A made-to-order opportunity to boost my stock and 
 secure some free advertising, so I greeted them and pres- 
 ently invited them into my car. 
 
 " What's the matter with this one? " demanded Tom. 
 
 "More privacy in mine," I replied. 
 
 "But we paid for these seats and should use them," 
 remonstrated Sol. 
 
 However, I persisted, and inveigled them into my 
 car, whereupon Henry immediately got busy and plied 
 them with liquor and cigars, as they sat speechless and 
 open-mouthed. I sure knocked them dead. 
 
 " Well, I'll be dashed ! " gasped Tom, recovering the 
 use of his tongue. " Whose layout is this, anyhow? " 
 addressing himself to Henry. 
 
 "Mr. Barlow's car, suh!" replied that discreet and 
 expert tip-extractor. "Shall I pour you some more
 
 Ace High! 13 
 
 Scotch, suh? Does you gen'lemen prefer some other 
 brand of cigars? This is Mr. Barlow's private brand!" 
 Say, boys, I could have embraced that dusky son of 
 Ham then and there. 
 
 " Do you always travel like this, Barlow er, Mr. 
 Barlow?" gasped Sol., thoroughly awed and "mister- 
 ing" me for the first time. 
 
 "Generally," I answered, "unless the distance is 
 short. The multiplicity and importance of my inter- 
 ests require much deliberation and privacy, except when 
 I permit myself to play a little, with good fellows, like 
 yourselves." 
 
 Well, I kept it up, by the grace of God and Henry, 
 till they reached their destination and got off, properly 
 and thoroughly impressed, primed to circulate the most 
 glowing accounts of my consequence and lavishness, 
 and I chuckled over their gullibility until we pulled 
 into South Bethlehem. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Here Henry was relieved by a colleague, who led me 
 to a waiting limousine, bundled me inside with my grip, 
 and climbed up alongside the chauffeur. 
 
 We rolled along for quite a distance, out to what was 
 evidently the exclusive residential section, and eventu- 
 ally pulled up under the portico of a fine old colonial 
 mansion.
 
 14 Rummy niscences 
 
 A consequential butler divested me of my coat and 
 deferentially led me into the reception room, where I 
 let myself into an arm chair and waited, somewhat 
 uncomfortably, I confess. 
 
 Presently Mrs. Hart entered, and all restraint and 
 embarrassment promptly disappeared. She was the 
 same kind, motherly old soul I had met at the "antique" 
 resort in the Mountains. Her warm and sincere greet- 
 ing put me at ease at once. 
 
 "A fine surprise to spring on an unsuspecting victim 
 and friend!" I chided, after our preliminary greetings 
 and a nice little chat. 
 
 "Nothing at all compared to the many courtesies 
 you showed to a solitary old lady, who will never be 
 able to fully repay them," she replied, smiling warmly, 
 " Besides, I am celebrating my seventieth birthday to- 
 day, with a little dinner party to which I have invited 
 only close relatives and very dear friends, and I wanted 
 you to make my little party complete." 
 
 Let me epitomize what followed. After an hour's 
 chat I was ushered up to the room assigned to me, 
 Found my grip had been unpacked, my dress clothes 
 pressed and laid out on the bed. 
 
 I dolled up and came down. Found some guests 
 had already arrived. Flock of limousines outside. 
 Others kept rolling up and discharging their occupants.
 
 Ace High! 15 
 
 My hostess introduced me. Senator Blank, Con- 
 gressman So-and-So, General This or That, steel mag- 
 nates, coal barons, railroad potentates, all big 
 leaguers, and their ladies and plain me. 
 
 Eventually we filed in to dinner, or rather the 
 banquet; and then, to my further surprise, I found 
 myself seated on Mrs. Hart's right, near the head of the 
 table. 
 
 Well, I won't bore you with a description of the 
 banquet. The old lady was ceremoniously congratu- 
 lated, and duly toasted and fussed over. But with all 
 this she managed to devote much time to me, and en- 
 hanced my standing among all these notables by ac- 
 claiming me as a most highly esteemed friend. 
 
 Finally the ladies withdrew, and the party began 
 to really liquor and smoke up. As the bubbles func- 
 tioned and the alcohol began to dissolve their veneer 
 and reserve, those big bugs turned out to be regular 
 human beings, and believe me, boys, they could step 
 some, too! 
 
 I began to hit on all six myself, and convulsed that 
 bunch with my best stories. Whether I rose to their 
 level or they descended to mine, the fact remains that 
 those moguls were "old-topping" me and clinking their 
 glasses with mine, and the more we clinked the more we 
 all blinked, and skidded.
 
 16 Rummy niscences 
 
 Those who had brought their ladies had by this time 
 departed with them or sent them home. 
 
 At one stage I was doing some close harmony, off 
 in a corner, with a congressman and two multi-million- 
 aires, our arms about each other's shoulders, killing 
 "The old oaken bucket that hung in the well," "The 
 old family tooth-brush that hung o'er the sink," "Old 
 Dutch," "Paddy Duffy's Cart" and well, all of them 
 the very same ones we massacre when we're blowing 
 out the lights. By that time I was doing the Sousa 
 act, leading the choir, and being addressed as "Chief" 
 by the few who didn't feel they knew me intimately 
 enough to call me Bob. 
 
 Well, curtains ! Modesty, and regard for the promi- 
 nence of my fellow revellers, forbid further details. 
 
 In the morning I breakfasted with my hostess, feel- 
 ing none too chipper. The coffee, and later on, a drive 
 with her through the bracing ozone, helped me a lot, 
 though. 
 
 She was a brick, a regular thoroughbred. I was a 
 little off my feed and felt a bit guilty, and I guess she 
 knew all about that, for she remarked: 
 
 " I'm so glad you enjoyed my dinner party. Judg- 
 ing from the casualties as reported to me by Jennings, 
 my butler, it was a success. The singing was quite 
 wonderful. I lay in bed enjoying it till I fell into a
 
 Ace High! 17 
 
 heavy sleep, for I was quite exhausted. You are gifted 
 with quite a tenor voice, Mr. Barlow, and really, I had 
 no idea my friends could sing so well, with such 
 fullness of spirit. I'm so glad you came ! I just knew 
 you would be the life of the party ! I couldn't hear the 
 stories," she added, "although I heard the peals of 
 laughter that greeted them. They must have been 
 very amusing. Won't you tell me some of them?" 
 
 And her eyes twinkled as I hastily averred my inabil- 
 ity to recall them. 
 
 The arrival of the minister saved me from further 
 embarrassment. He was her son-in-law and the shep- 
 herd of the most exclusive and pretentious church in 
 the town. He had been seated opposite me at dinner 
 the night before and had studied me persistently and 
 solemnly, somewhat to my discomfort. Fortunately 
 he had withdrawn with the ladies. 
 
 My hostess attended to some household matters, 
 leaving me to the Dominie. In the course of our con- 
 versation, he presently remarked: 
 
 " Mrs. Hart is certainly quite infatuated with you, 
 Mr. Barlow. I have never known her to exhibit such 
 an interest in anyone. She is really very reserved. I 
 am her relative by marriage, her daughter's husband, 
 you know, and yet, she has never encouraged intimacy 
 on my part. I have failed utterly to interest her in my
 
 18 Rummyniscences 
 
 work and my church, or in securing any contribution 
 whatever from her. As I understand it, your acquain- 
 tance with her is quite recent and came about quite 
 casually, and yet, she evidently esteems you more than 
 she does her immediate relatives and friends of long 
 standing. I understand she has placed her private car 
 at your disposal. I have never even entered it. I 
 cannot comprehend it!" 
 
 Well, I couldn't enlighten him either, and didn't 
 attempt to. 
 
 The Duke paused to re-light his cigar, puffed at it 
 meditatively, and continued: 
 
 " But I'd better wind up my tale ! That same after- 
 noon I bade Mrs. Hart adieu, and journeyed back to 
 New York, in the same private car, with Henry, and all 
 the liquid and other comforts he could provide. 
 
 As I stepped off the luxurious car and into the foul 
 smelling and tobacco reeking men's cabin of the ferry 
 boat, 'mid a down-pouring, dampening and depressing 
 rain, I figuratively came to earth again, on the broad 
 expanse of the Hudson. 'Back to the mine!' I 
 soliloquized, but fellows, they can't take one thing 
 from me for two days, I lived Ace high . . ! " 
 
 The Duke drained his glass and fell back into his 
 chair, his eyes narrowed in retrospection. 
 
 Presently he delved into his breast pocket, produced
 
 Ace High! 19 
 
 his wallet, and extracted therefrom a well-worn news- 
 paper clipping. 
 
 "A month or two after this episode," he drawled, 
 "I happened to lamp this article in a newspaper. I'll 
 just read you the head-lines : 
 
 PENNSYLVANIA SOCIAL 
 CIRCLES SHOCKED 
 
 Court appoints trustee to administer 
 
 affairs of wealthy and philanthropic 
 
 widow. 
 
 Legally declared incompetent and 
 mentally deranged. 
 
 w-un
 
 "HANDS UP!" 
 
 t* 
 
 A crime wave, a series of hold-ups, a sequence of 
 drinks, and the denouement !
 
 4 'Hands Up!" 
 
 I. 
 
 T3UD Barrows tipped the scales around two hun- 
 ^"^ dred six feet, one inch, of solid bone and 
 muscle. Likewise he drank, hard liquor, all the 
 fifty-seven varieties and concoctions thereof, and he met 
 all comers, his friends, their friends, anybody's 
 friends, and eventually, on his way homeward, the 
 weary-eyed wops going to work at day-break. 
 
 All of which is to say that he was a "good fellow," 
 "a regular guy" and a "sticker." Also it was his con- 
 firmed habit, whether plumb sober or genteely skished, 
 for Bud averred that no gentleman ever got really 
 drunk, not so long as he refrained from whispering 
 to side-walks, it was his confirmed habit upon 
 ascending the brown-stone steps of the paternal dom- 
 icile, to noiselessly open and carefully lock the front 
 door behind him and then, after removing his shoes in 
 
 the hall- way, to pussyfoot into the parlor and to equally 
 
 23
 
 24 Rummyniscences 
 
 carefully secure and lock the window-catches against 
 possible burglarous intrusion, this at the behest of 
 his most estimable but extremely nervous mater. 
 
 Be it also set down for your edification that Bud 
 
 resided on a very steep street, on Washington Heights* 
 
 a street paved, because of its steep grade, with rough 
 
 stone blocks instead of the customary smooth asphalt. 
 
 The relevancy of all of which seemingly incongruous 
 statements may presently become more apparent. 
 
 II. 
 
 It is not restful or soothing to shattered nerves, to 
 live on a steep street paved with stone blocks, be the 
 nerves a mere fashionable ailment, as in the case of his 
 mother, or real " Honest-to-God " jumpy nerves of the 
 " morning-after " variety. 
 
 The heavily-laden motor trucks, rumbling down or 
 laboring up such a street, shake the houses to their very 
 foundations and cause them to quiver from cellar to 
 roof. Everything that is not riveted down seems to do 
 a shimmy, the table-ware, the light ornaments on 
 the mantle, and the contents of the side-board as well. 
 
 The water in the glasses, the soup in the tureen, 
 the coffee, and even the mustard and catsup, all quiver 
 and quake in trepidation. But the trucks roll by, the 
 windows cease rattling and the houses still stand, ap-
 
 "Hands Up!" 25 
 
 patently apparently, mark ye uninjured, and 
 mater and the whole blooming family look relieved, the 
 nerves cease to flutter and the meal proceeds. 
 
 III. 
 
 But to return to Bud. On this particular night 
 things had been very hilarious at the club, until old 
 Bramwell was brought in from a taxi, staggering and 
 supported by a policeman, a big gash on his forehead, 
 and his collar and dress-shirt smeared with blood. He 
 had been blackjacked and robbed by thugs in a side- 
 street on his way to the club after the opera. Another 
 member had been similarly assaulted and robbed only 
 a few days previously. The papers were full of accounts 
 of hold-ups and robberies. A veritable crime-wave had 
 seized the metropolis and the police seemed power- 
 less. 
 
 Bramwell's plight sobered his club-mates. They 
 sat around gloomily and recalled a long series of similar 
 crimes. It got on Bud's nerves presently. We have 
 already informed you that big and strong as he was, he 
 had "nerves" susceptible nerves. 
 
 He was sorry for old "Brammy," of course, but he 
 couldn't see much sense in sitting around glum and 
 gloomy and listening to blood-curdling, creepy recitals 
 that gave one the "Willies."
 
 26 Rummyniscences 
 
 It didn't seem to mix with the liquor somehow, in 
 fact the drinks began to come slowly, too slowly for 
 Bud. He found himself ordering two rounds in suc- 
 cession, while the others were listening wide-eyed and 
 aghast so he left. 
 
 He drifted around to Clabby's, but found no one 
 there whom he knew. As he sipped a high-ball, Clabby 
 sociably engaged him in conversation and presently, 
 having exhausted the day's sporting topics, Clabby too 
 began to comment on the numerous hold-ups that 
 seemed to infest the community. Bud downed his 
 high-ball, glared irately at well-meaning, bewildered 
 Clabby and left abruptly. 
 
 In Wallick's he picked up "Dink" Van Loan, and 
 they licked up a couple of more high-balls and proceeded 
 down the line. He didn't care much for Dink, but at 
 least Dink's conversation, while shallow and boresome, 
 was not centered on hold-ups. He didn't mention 
 crime but prated volubly about his feminine con- 
 quests. 
 
 Bud stuck with him till early morn, drinking almost 
 feverishly. He was sore on himself. 
 
 Finally, he hailed a taxi and after dropping Dink at 
 his house, he proceeded to roll home, much the worse 
 for all the liquor he had imbibed, in fact his eyes 
 didn't seem to focus, and he began to do mental sums
 
 "Hands Up!" 27 
 
 in simple arithmetic, a habit of his, to maintain his 
 grip on his senses, when he felt himself skidding. And 
 then he dozed off, only to be awakened by the squeaking 
 of brakes, the sudden stopping of his taxi and re- 
 volver shots ! 
 
 A policeman pulled open the door of his taxi and 
 piled in without ceremony. Another clambored along- 
 side the chauffeur. The taxi whirled up Broadway at 
 breakneck speed, slewed around into a side-street, nar- 
 rowly missing a milk-wagon, then tore up Riverside 
 Drive. 
 
 "What-the-h 1!" ejaculated Bud. 
 
 "Sit still!" commanded the officer. "Hold-up! 
 Gun-men! Making a get-away in that big touring-car 
 ahead! Sorry to inconvenience you, but this taxi 
 just rolled along in time. D n 'em! They're pulling 
 away from us ! " And just then the officer in front lev- 
 elled his gun at the fleet touring-car and pumped several 
 shots at the rear tires. But they got away and the 
 officers presently released Bud's taxi, cursing its lack of 
 speed. 
 
 Bud dismissed it at his street and slipped into the 
 corner cafe through the side-door. He seated himself 
 at a table in the rear-room, downed a big hooker of 
 whiskey and ordered another. He needed them. His 
 nerves were shot.
 
 28 Rummy niscences 
 
 IV. 
 
 Finally, he staggered home, up the front steps, un- 
 locked the door and entered none too steadily. No 
 need of his customary stealth and avoidance of all 
 noises. The family was out of town. 
 
 He entered the parlor, swaying unsteadily, to secure 
 the windows, his invariable custom, as we have already 
 set forth. A small rug slid on the polished floor under 
 his uncertain step. His legs shot from under him and 
 clutching wildly at the darkness, he fell heavily and 
 measured his length on the floor. As he scrambled 
 clumsily to his feet, there was a loud report he 
 received a violent, stunning blow on his head and sank 
 to his knees petrified. Then silence. . . . His 
 brain reeled. For some seconds he remained crouched 
 in terrified expectancy. Gradually his mind cleared. 
 Burglars ! Desperate murderous assassins ! The dark- 
 ness and suspense were maddening. Why didn't they 
 finish him? Or did they perhaps believe that they had 
 done so ... and fled! 
 
 He edged over to the wall and pressed the button of 
 the electric switch. No lights! They had cut the 
 wires, he divined. Thorough desperate marauders. 
 Something dropped onto the floor. Ha! They were 
 still in the room! Terrified and in desperation, he 
 bolted through the darkness and out of the room, down
 
 "Hands Up!" 29 
 
 the hall, and into the basement he was sure he was 
 being pursued . . . 
 
 Feverishly he unlocked the basement door, raised 
 the latch of the area-gate and fled out into the street. 
 He sped towards Broadway shouting "Police!" as he 
 ran. 
 
 Some late prowlers took up the cry and the police 
 presently came on the run two of them. They 
 rushed back with him to the house and up the front 
 steps. He unlocked the door and they entered cau- 
 tiously with drawn revolvers in hand, Bud bringing 
 up the rear his nerves palpitating like trip- 
 hammers. 
 
 Silence reigned supreme. One of the officers pulled 
 out a pocket search-light and flashed it around the room 
 . . . amazed, stupefied by the spectacle it revealed, 
 they stood rooted in their tracks. A film of white dust 
 covered the mantle, the bric-a-brac, the rugs every- 
 thing. Chunks of plaster littered the floor. An irreg- 
 ular, jagged aperture in the ceiling and the grinning 
 rows of bared wood-lath behind it, gaped at them fan- 
 tastically. A dangling, torn wire accounted for the 
 electric-light switch's failure to function. 
 
 The officer nudged his fellow, pointed his extended 
 finger to the region of his own brain or to what served 
 in lieu thereof, rotated his finger slowly and signifi-
 
 30 Rummy niscences 
 
 cantly, and glaring at Bud in supreme disgust, ejacu- 
 lated : 
 
 " Come along, Dinny. This nut's looking for plas- 
 terers, not police!" 
 
 "H 1!" muttered Bud, sheepishly. And, picking 
 up his battered derby-hat, he proceeded up to his 
 room sober !
 
 "STUPID" AND THE GOATS 
 
 In which the "Goat" butts his persecutors and 
 sheds his horns.
 
 "Stupid" and the Goats. 
 
 I. 
 
 fT^HE circle of regulars that attended this partic- 
 ular session of the "Bible Class" which congre- 
 gated in the club tap-room every Sunday morning for 
 the pious purpose of imbibing their customary eye- 
 openers and bracers were busily engaged in their 
 favorite diversion of collectively riding one of their 
 number rough-shod. 
 
 Just now, Buck was "it," and even solemn and 
 sedate old Dennis, the waiter, grinned broadly, as 
 Buck broke under the barrage of banter hurled at him. 
 
 The room resounded with mirth as Cliff joined the 
 circle. 
 
 "'Ello, everybody! What's the row?" greeted 
 Cliff, "What's doing?" 
 
 "Oh, Buck's delivering a dissertation on big game- 
 hunting again. Been dragging us through the Cana- 
 
 33
 
 34 Rummyniscences 
 
 dian Rockies, killing Moose and Caribou, and all the 
 other varieties of goats whose heads adorn grills and 
 libraries," nagged the Shrimp. 
 
 "Goats, nothing!" growled Buck, resentfully. "At 
 any rate not the human and Harlem species that you 
 have been reared with. And at that, let me tell you, 
 there are some goats in the Rockies that are well worth 
 hunting. But what's the use? Can't expect a bunch 
 of city reared f ashionplates to appreciate the joys of the 
 chase. Can't expect it from rum-hounds who follow 
 only the trails that lead from one cafe to another and 
 whose outdoor activities are limited to golf and flounder- 
 fishing!" 
 
 "You've never, any one of you, experienced a real 
 thrill, barring those you feel when somebody buys. 
 I'm shut!" 
 
 "Oh, I don't know!" persisted the Shrimp, "for 
 real thrills caviar hunting in the Vodka swamps of 
 Russia has it on goat shooting a dozen ways! You 
 start out before dawn with a Mujik guide, and a flobert 
 rifle, and a brace of truffle hounds and 
 
 "Oh, chop it!" roardBuck. "I'll buy! Anything 
 to stop your paretic chatter. More liquor, Dennis, for 
 the Comedy Kid and the rest of the minstrels!" 
 
 "What do you fellows make of the deal 'Stupe' 
 Crosby handed us last night?" interposed Cliff, tact-
 
 "Stupid" and the Goats 35 
 
 fully shifting the subject. "Pretty rough stuff among 
 friends! I'm off of him for good, believe me!" 
 
 Noting the blank and inquiring looks that greeted 
 his announcement, he continued, "Why! Hasn't the 
 Shrimp told you?" 
 
 "Aw, tell them yourself!" replied the latter, sulk- 
 ily. "I'm for forgetting that sketch." 
 
 Nevertheless, after some urging, the Shrimp re- 
 counted the episode. 
 
 II. 
 
 "Well," proceeded the Shrimp, "after dinner last 
 night, 'Stupe' got a phone call and started to make a 
 quick get-away, but we kept liquoring him up and kid- 
 ding him out of leaving. Finally he said, 'Boys, you've 
 got me all wrong ! It isn't a case of skirt at all ! Noth- 
 in' of the sort. The fact is I'm going to flag this conge- 
 nial bunch for a vulgar and brutal cock-fight. If you 
 think I'm stalling, why come along, any or all of you, 
 but make up your minds quickly. I'm late now, as 
 it is.'" 
 
 "Where's it coming off?" asks Bud Barrows, strong 
 for any kind of scrap, as usual. 
 
 " Out in Flushing," says old 'Stupid.' " Come along 
 Bud. You'll meet a good bunch and double your roll. 
 I'm in right!"
 
 36 Rummyniscences 
 
 "Too far! Case of all night!" answers Bud reluc- 
 tantly. 
 
 "Make it inside of an hour. Got to!" coaxes 
 'Stupid.' 
 
 "Never saw a cock-fight! Must be good fun," 
 murmured the Duke. 
 
 "Never saw one myself!" added Cliff. "Don't 
 think I'd care for it, but I'd go just to complete my 
 sporting education, that is, if it were pulled off around 
 these diggings, but Flushing, Good Night!" 
 
 "I'll go, if you go!" said I. 
 
 "Let's all go!" said Bud and the Duke simulta- 
 neously. 
 
 "Come along!" says 'Stupid.' "Shoot you out in a 
 taxi in an hour, and slip you the dope so you'll all clean 
 up! Plenty to drink and a good bunch. Come 
 along!" 
 
 "Well," continued the Shrimp, after a pause. "We 
 fell ! Corralled a taxi, and piled inside. The five of us. 
 Some cold night and some cold ride! Travelling ice- 
 box! 
 
 "The ruts in the road were frozen into solid ridges 
 and we hurtled around inside from one lap to another 
 like dice in a box. Took us two solid hours to make 
 Flushing. Half-hour breakdown on some God-for- 
 saken road, somewhere between New York and Mon-
 
 "Stupid" and the Goats 37 
 
 tauk Point. We were a cheerful bunch of icicles when 
 we finally made Flushing not!" 
 
 The Shrimp paused. Cliff crumpled his paper, and 
 shivered as with a chill, at the recollection. 
 
 "Umph!" ejaculated the Misogamist, "Flushing, 
 eh! Towards midnight, and in a taxi, on the coldest 
 night of the year! Say, you fellows were heading for 
 the wrong town. You should have hit the pike for 
 Amityville. There's a fine big asylum there for all 
 kinds of nuts." 
 
 "Right you are, Joe!" laughed the Shrimp, but 
 listen and get the rest of it! 
 
 Stupe halted our taxi in front of a tumble-down, 
 dirty looking rum dispensary. We piled out, stamping 
 our feet and swinging our arms, trying to fan up the 
 spark of life that flickered within us. 
 
 "You wait inside," said Stupe to the chauffeur. 
 " Here, blow this two spot for drinks and smokes while 
 you're waiting. We'll be back inside of a couple of 
 hours. Now then, fellows, come along! We've got to 
 hoof it a quarter of a mile or so. Wouldn't do, you 
 know, to drive up in a taxi. Too conspicuous!" 
 
 Well, we hoofed it, trailing along behind old Stupid. 
 It was bitter cold and dark as pitch, but at that it was 
 better than our cold storage taxi. We stumbled along a 
 trolley track, through a deserted-looking stretch of
 
 38 Rummyniscences 
 
 country, for a full half mile, stubbing our frozen toes 
 against the ties and cursing ourselves for deserting the 
 comforts of the club. 
 
 "A fine night for a murder!" growled the Duke. 
 " Aw,buck up ! " said Bud," it's all in the game. Cheer 
 up ! The worst is yet to come ! I think this is bully ! " 
 
 " I think you'd better spend two bucks and get your 
 head examined!" retorted the Duke. "This sporting 
 stuff is all right to listen to in front of a log fire, with 
 plenty of liquor and comfort. I'm about all in. Serves 
 me right, for going on a polar expedition, with a game 
 leg, too!" "Water on the knee, the doctor thinks," 
 he added. 
 
 "Water on the knee!" scoffed Bud. "Say, don't 
 worry, Duke. Nothing to it! No chance for any 
 water to ever get into your system!" 
 
 "Melted ice from high-balls, maybe!" observed 
 Cliff sagely, through his chattering teeth. 
 
 "Sh! Stow the argument. We're almost there. 
 Don't talk above a whisper," commanded Stupe. 
 "There's the place!" he continued, pointing to what 
 appeared to be a cheerful looking road-house, some dis- 
 tance ahead. 
 
 "You fellows wait here while I go ahead and fix it 
 up," commanded Stupe in a stealthy whisper. "Keep 
 off the road and out of sight. Maybe constables or
 
 "Stupid" and the Goats 39 
 
 deputies hanging around. Stay here for ten minutes. 
 That'll give me plenty of time. Then come up one at 
 a time, but don't follow each other too closely. Under- 
 stand? You come up first, Shrimp," he says to me. 
 "The main is being pulled off in the cellar. Walk right 
 up into the bar-room and wait for me there. Wait 
 ten minutes before you start, and the rest of you come 
 following along one at a time, and keep quiet! So long, 
 I'm off!" 
 
 III. 
 
 Well, we huddled together and waited. Wow! but 
 it was cold. Our feet turned to ice. Finally yours 
 truly started out for the road-house. 
 
 I entered the bar-room feeling very self-conscious, 
 but walked right up to the bar nonchalantly, as it were, 
 which in my case, fellows, really meant frozen stiff. 
 I cast about for Stupe, but he wasn't in evidence, so I 
 waited. 
 
 A portly individual, whom I rightly sized up to be 
 the proprietor, rose from a table where he had been 
 playing pinocle with two natives, who eyed me 
 curiously, and waddled around behind the bar. 
 
 There was no one else in sight. 
 
 "Cold night, sir! What'll you have?" asks His 
 Corpulency.
 
 40 Rummy niscences 
 
 "A hot rum-toddy, if you have it!" I answer. 
 
 "Sure! And a good drink on a night like this! 
 I'll have one meself !" says the proprietor. 
 
 "Have it on me!" said I, taking advantage of the 
 opening, to get in right. 
 
 "Thanks, have a smoke!" says the big fellow, 
 equally generous, passing over a box of road-house 
 delights. 
 
 "What'll your friends drink?" I countered, looking 
 over at the two natives who were gaping at me open- 
 mouthed. 
 
 " Kind of late to be prowling about on a cold night ! " 
 observed the proprietor searchingly, I thought, after 
 serving his friends. I merely nodded assent. 
 
 No sign of Stupid, as yet, so I ordered a second 
 toddy, just as the Duke blew in, his nose almost blue, 
 but his eyes fairly beaming as he spied the steaming 
 drinks. 
 
 Then, after short intervals, Cliff and finally Bud, 
 arrived, and we all lined up at the bar regaling ourselves 
 with liquid warmth. 
 
 Still no sign of Stupe, and all the time I was listen- 
 ing for signs of life in the cellar, and wondering 
 why others did not drift in, like ourselves. But nary 
 another drift, not a sound from below, and not a sign 
 of Stupe.
 
 "Stupid" and the Goats 41 
 
 I began to get suspicious. So did the bunch. So 
 did the proprietor. So did his cronies. 
 
 The proprietor leaned over the bar, looked me 
 straight in the eye and said, "Say! What's the game? 
 If you're cops, who are you looking for? If you're 
 stick-up men why, go to it! You're welcome to the 
 cash register, but you're in the wrong alley, Brother! 
 There's less than ten dollars in it and you can't shake 
 me and my friends down for more'n a couple more. If 
 that's your game, say so, and we'll shell out. Let's get 
 it over with!" 
 
 Can you beat that! We four poor frozen simps, 
 desperadoes ! Say, we felt pretty bad, but we laughed 
 our fool heads off and assured him that we were plain, 
 ordinary perfectly harmless citizens. 
 
 He apologized profusely. "I'm rough and ready," 
 he explained, "and a bit blunt spoken. Begging your 
 pardon, gents, but you'll admit you'd be a bit suspicious 
 yourselves if four strangers dropped into your place 
 one by one, on a hard night like this, and they all 
 knows each other and comes in separate, mysterious 
 like, and keeps lookin' around. Four of you, one at a 
 time, and no rig or nothin', and all strangers, what's 
 friends to each other. I don't want to make no more 
 breaks, but what or who are you looking for? I know 
 everybody around these parts!"
 
 42 Rummyniscences 
 
 Say, fellows, we were even more puzzled than he was. 
 He seemed on the level sure enough, but I figured he 
 might have us sized up for deputies or something, and 
 that he might be stalling. So I told him outright that 
 we were there to see the main, as Stupe's guests. 
 
 His eyes kept getting bigger and bigger. "Chicken 
 fight!" he gasped, "and in my cellar, eh! Not if I 
 knows it! Say, come with me!" 
 
 He walked over to the cellar door, opened it and 
 switched on the light. 
 
 The cellar was littered with boxes, barrels and house- 
 hold truck. 
 
 "Ain't room to spit, let alone pull a main!" he 
 chuckled. "You've been bunked. What's your 
 friend's name? Mr. Crosby? Stupe Crosby? Don't 
 know the gentleman, at least not as I knows of. And he 
 hasn't been here neither, for outside of yourselves and 
 my friends here, there hasn't been a soul around since 
 nine o'clock. Chicken fight? Take it from me, there's 
 no such thing being pulled around these diggings to- 
 night. If there was, I'd be there meself !" 
 
 "Well, fellows, to cut it all short we were the mad- 
 dest, sorest, sorriest bunch outside of jail. We lapped 
 up a couple of more hot toddies to fortify us for the re- 
 turn trip and hiked to our taxi, which again bumped 
 and jolted us back to the big burg. Some party!"
 
 ''Stupid" and the Goats 43 
 
 concluded the Shrimp, downing his high-ball and scowl- 
 ing his disgust as he sank back in his chair. 
 
 IV. 
 
 "That's right, fellows," added Cliff. "That's 
 what Stupid handed us. Roughest kind of a deal. A 
 joke's a joke but this was murder. Wonder what be- 
 came of Stupe, damn him! Must have been drinking 
 absinthe or smoking hops. He's nutty, he is. Plumb 
 batty!" 
 
 "Letter for you, sir! Just delivered by messenger," 
 interrupted the club clerk. 
 
 Cliff tore open the envelope, read the missive, 
 flushed deeply and muttering a half suppressed oath 
 crushed it in his fist. 
 
 "Wha's 'se matter, Cliff?" inquired the irrepressible 
 Shrimp. "Has your sweetie suddenly blown cold and 
 given you the gate?" 
 
 "No, you saphead! Read it yourself. It concerns 
 you, too. Read it aloud ! " and Cliff tossed the crumpled 
 note over to the Shrimp. 
 
 The Shrimp read the note slowly, his voice gradually 
 dropping to a whisper. "Dear Cliff," he read, "Come 
 to think it over I guess that cock-fight gag I pulled on 
 you fellows last night was rather a 'stupid' joke. 
 ' Stupid ' that's the word ! What else could you
 
 44 Rummyniscences 
 
 expect Stupid to pull on you? Possibly you fellows are 
 a bit peeved. Well, I've experienced that feeling a 
 number of times. For two years or more I've stood 
 for that 'stupid' stuff, ever since I was foolish and 
 really stupid enough to tell you about that card sharp 
 fleecing me on the steamer when I went abroad. And 
 particularly just you four fellows who fell for my blarney 
 last night, made a practice of, and seemed to take much 
 delight in hailing me as ' Stupid ' in private and public, 
 anywhere and everywhere. I took my medicine, suf- 
 fered in silence and never squawked. But when you 
 pulled it at Bud's house the other night in the presence 
 of his sisters and the other girls I determined to get back 
 at you. There wasn't any cock-fight, was there? 
 That phone call for me at the club last night, was an 
 invitation from my brother-in-law who lives in Flushing 
 to spend the night with him and Sis. I started to ex- 
 plain before leaving but you fellows would have it that 
 the call came from some doll, and goaded, or perhaps, 
 inspired, by your masterful kidding, I handed you that 
 cock-fight yarn. Many thanks for the taxi ride and 
 the rest of the entertainment. I certainly was escorted 
 out to Flushing in style. By the time you poor frozen 
 simps reached the road-house I was snugly and warmly 
 tucked in the quilts. Well I may be 'stupid' enough 
 to fall for a card sharp but you'll have to admit that I've
 
 "Stupid" and the Goats 45 
 
 hung it on four 'pretty slick gents.' Now I've a propo- 
 sition to make to you. Let's call it quits and to show 
 that there's no hard feeling on my part I'll buy the din- 
 ners and a box at the Follies on Saturday night. I 
 don't dare to beard you fellows much before then. 
 Now don't be 'stupid' about it. What do you all 
 say? Your old side-kick, Dick Crosby." 
 
 In the silence that ensued Buck quietly remarked : 
 "Speaking of goats again it is quite evident that 
 these dull simple creatures are not yet entirely extinct 
 in these parts particularly the biped species!" 
 
 Wife-am:';/.
 
 THE WORM THAT TURNED 
 
 Wherein Clabby makes a suggestion which is 
 promptly acted upon, much to his subsequent 
 amazement and disgust.
 
 The Worm That Turned. 
 
 nursed a grouch. The mirrors and the 
 mahogany shone, the polished brasswork and the 
 glassware glittered; everything looked bright and 
 cheery, but Clabby. 
 
 The trouble was trivial enough, but for the time be- 
 ing most trying to indolent, easy-going Clabby. One 
 of his bartenders had quit him cold, the other was laid 
 up sick, which meant that Clabby had to "go some" 
 for the whole of that night, for his place was popular 
 and much patronized. 
 
 Towards one in the morning, the worst nigh over, 
 Clabby, practically "all in," was relieving his feelings 
 somewhat by recounting his troubles to the Duke and 
 Bud Barrows, who listened sympathetically over their 
 hot scotches. 
 
 Outside the wind howled and rattled the plate glass. 
 
 Zero gusts nipped the noses and ears of the belated 
 
 49
 
 50 Rummy niscences 
 
 prowlers. Sensible people were snugly tucked in the 
 quilts, and it was about time for Clabby to close and 
 call it a day, or rather a night, when the door opened 
 and a human scarecrow, thin and wan, filthy and ragged, 
 advanced hesitatingly up to the Duke and Bud, and in 
 a quavering, tremulous voice, begged to be staked to a 
 drink. 
 
 "Beat it!" growled Clabby ominously. 
 
 The poor "down and outer" persisted, pleading 
 pitiously, shaking like an aspen leaf, and muttering in- 
 coherently about the cold, sickness and hard luck. 
 
 " Shaking for a drink," growled Clabby. " Old gag ! 
 What d'ye mean, botherin' my customers? Beat it, 
 while the beatin's good! Grease yer heels and slide!" 
 
 "Have a heart, Clabby," interrupted the Duke, "he 
 looks as if he were dying on his feet. Fix him up with 
 something hot." 
 
 "A drink!" quavered the derelict. "A drink! 
 Just one drink, to w warm me up. Need it! Honest, 
 gents!" 
 
 Bud tossed him a quarter which he grabbed eagerly, 
 and again resumed his pleading for a drink. 
 
 "No drink!" replied Bud. "Get yourself a bite 
 and some coffee. Here's some more change, for a bed 
 in a lodging house. No drink. Nothing doing. 
 Vamoose!"
 
 The Worm That Turned 51 
 
 " Won't let me in no lodging houses. Got me black- 
 listed. J just one drink, gents ! Youse is good sports, 
 j just one 
 
 "Kin ye beat that fer nerve?" interposed Clabby, 
 coming out from behind the bar. "Them bums is the 
 limit. Now you beat it, and beat it quick! If ye 
 can't get in a lodgin' house go to the police station. 
 They'll put ye up on a night like this. Beat it now! 
 'Rouss! No more palaver!" 
 
 "Won't have me in de station house, either!" wailed 
 the derelict. "Turned me away last night. Lem'me 
 buy a drink, boss!" 
 
 Clabby's face was purple with rage. " Get out, get 
 out, you bum ! Make 'em take ye ! Start somethin' - 
 punch somebody break a pane o'glass or somethin' 
 and get yerself arrested! Beat it, an' beat it quick!" 
 
 And, advancing on the scarecrow, he seized him by 
 the collar and the seat of the trousers, and with dex- 
 terity acquired in days gone by as a bouncer in a Coney 
 Island dance hall, firmly slid him to and through the 
 door. 
 
 "Whew!" he said, as he returned behind the bar, 
 "can ye beat 'em? They're the limit, those bums! 
 One er two blows in every night. I'm goin' te ' 
 
 Crash! Bang! A clatter of broken glass! A 
 cobblestone bounced over the tile floor, and fetched up
 
 52 Rummyniscences 
 
 against the rear partition. A cold draft blew through 
 a jagged, irregular hole in the plate-glass front. 
 
 "What fell!" ejaculated Clabby. 
 
 He bounded out from behind the bar and followed 
 closely by Bud and the Duke, rushed out into the street. 
 
 There they beheld the shivering culprit, firmly 
 clutched by a burly bluecoat. 
 
 " Get yer coat Clabby and come along and file yer 
 complaint with the Lootenant," commanded the officer. 
 "I seen him smash yer glass meself. Three months on 
 the Island for this bird!" 
 
 And as he haled his passive and unresisting captive 
 to the station-house, the latter, leering at Clabby, mut- 
 tered 
 
 " He t t told me to b b bust aw 
 winder an' 1 1 took his advice!" 
 
 The worm had turned!
 
 A ROLL THROUGH A NIGHT 
 
 The log of a bibulous Odyssey and what befell.
 
 A Roll Through A Night. 
 
 I. 
 
 A TWO days' growth of beard camouflaged Cliff's 
 
 features; his shoes were spattered with mortar, 
 
 and his blue serge suit was soiled with lime and plaster 
 
 drippings, for he had been "on the job," inspecting one 
 
 of his firm's building contracts. 
 
 Home was Cliff's one best bet and he knew it, but in 
 the days preceding the present era of parched throats 
 and aridness the days when King Alcohol and his 
 Prime Minister, John Barleycorn still held sway, 
 there existed many snug harbors, whose lights and at- 
 tractions lured the nocturnal rovers of those days and 
 oft delayed the passage homeward. 
 
 Cliff certainly should have kept going and made his 
 train, but force of habit, refractory feet, and a pro- 
 nounced thirst, diverted him from the homeward path; 
 
 anyhow, he stopped as usual, "for just one," and now, 
 
 55
 
 56 Rummy niscences 
 
 surrounded by his cronies, and overwhelmed by their 
 eloquence, and a quick sequence of high-balls, he found 
 himself in the Duke's car, alongside of Larry, the chau- 
 ffeur, on the way down to Sheepshead for dinner, with 
 the Duke and Skeets Porter and Bud Barrows and the 
 Shrimp, seated back of him, all primed for a merry 
 evening and a rollicking night. 
 
 II. 
 
 The merciless "kidding" that his friends subjected 
 him to because of his bewhiskered and generally bedrag- 
 gled appearance, was brought to a climax by an un- 
 toward incident that made him feel, if possible, even 
 more self-conscious and uncomfortable. 
 
 As they rolled along the Boulevard they passed a 
 snappy looking runabout, pulled up alongside the curb, 
 and caught a fleeting glimpse of a very attractive little 
 brunette, sitting on the running-board with a kit of 
 tools spread out alongside of her, looking most woe- 
 begone and disconsolate. 
 
 Of course, they stopped and backed their car along- 
 side. 
 
 Case of a flat shoe, and "Such a messy job!" 
 "Oh, I wish I were a man! Girls are so helpless!" 
 " Oh, thank you so much! I really don't know how! 
 So good of you!" and so forth.
 
 A Roll Through A Night 57 
 
 And Larry and Cliff piled out and jacked up the 
 car and sweated and toiled and changed the shoe, while 
 the others held an animated conversation with the at- 
 tractive and forlorn damsel, who was now all smiles 
 and graciousness. 
 
 Just as Cliff and Larry were finishing the job, a 
 cutely mustached, be-spatted and immaculate fashion- 
 plate sauntered up from a road house, where he had 
 evidently regaled himself while Cliff and Larry toiled 
 and inquired loftily, "My dear, who are these people?" 
 
 There followed explanations on the part of the lead- 
 ing and only lady, and laudations of the consideration 
 and kindness of the Duke, Bud, et al., and more or less 
 gloom on their part, and polite thanks on the part of the 
 dandified swain, accompanied by a proffer of cigars, 
 and then with a glance, a superior and supercilious 
 glance, at Cliff and Larry, particularly at Cliff, whom 
 he evidently sized up as a mechanic or other type of 
 inferior mortal, he proffered Larry a two dollar bill, 
 told him to split it with "the other fellow," climbed into 
 the runabout, alongside of the brunette whose alluring 
 smiles now appeared quite roguish, grasped the wheel 
 and with a graceful, farewell flourish of his left hand, 
 whisked the enchantress away, while the others 
 gazed after them blankly and open-mouthed, and Cliff, 
 flushed, grew white and flushed again. Then a series
 
 58 Rurnmyniscences 
 
 of explosive comments, and more grilling for Cliff, on 
 whom they proceeded to take it all out, as they too 
 rolled on. Cliff wasn't exactly having a good time 
 thus far. 
 
 At Villacorde's, where they alighted at the height of 
 the dinner rush, things fairly hummed. Conversation 
 buzzed, dishes clattered, the ebony-hued waiters per- 
 spired, the band jazzed, and Madame, serene and placid 
 in the midst of bedlam, greeted the party with a gra- 
 cious, if studied, smile of welcome that enfolded them 
 all as impartially and completely as a burst of sunshine, 
 - though be it confessed that the big mulatto Major 
 Domo who led them to their table, looked at Cliff 
 askance and certainly a bit contemptuously, if not sus- 
 piciously, in spite of the fact that the latter had man- 
 aged to spruce up somewhat, before entering. 
 
 They seated themselves, ordered their favorite cock- 
 tails, and complacently absorbed the congenial and 
 familiar atmosphere. 
 
 "Same old crowd!" commented Buck, "Hall-room 
 boys and heiresses, perfidious husbands and their 
 'stenogs.,' young bloods and old bucks, swell chicks and 
 old hens. All the fifty-seven varieties of Janes and 
 Johns." 
 
 "Pipe the pippins with the two old bucks over in 
 the corner!" observed the Duke. "How do they man-
 
 A Roll Through A Night 59 
 
 age to get them? Snowy hair and bald domes sure 
 have the call over athletic youth and symmetry. Well, 
 I suppose my luck will change when I'm old and de- 
 crepit!" he concluded. 
 
 "Cheer up!" laughed the Shrimp, "maybe your 
 bank roll will fatten as your hair thins out, and then 
 you'll be pestered with clusters of them. Here comes 
 the fodder! Pitch in! I'm for the eats !" 
 
 And they fell to, as the first course of the famous 
 Villacorde shore dinner was set before them. 
 
 Between courses and over their cordials, they in- 
 dulged in much persiflage and humorous comment at 
 the expense of the other diners, and they ogled the 
 pretty girls and engaged in surreptitious flirtation. 
 
 But the tables were presently turned on them most 
 unexpectedly. 
 
 The jazz band, wending its way among the diners, 
 came upon them. 
 
 The leader spotted them and made for their table 
 with a broad grin. Stag parties were his meat. He 
 grouped his dusky troubadours about them, and with 
 much flashing of ivories and characteristic negro antics 
 they strummed their ukeleles and burst into the song: 
 "Gee! Don't I wish I had a girl like the other fellows 
 have!" to the great delight of all the other guests as 
 evinced by their vociferous applause.
 
 60 Rummyniscences 
 
 And then, noting Cliff's bewhiskered chin, the leader 
 and arch villain placed himself directly in front of him 
 and sang the famous "Vagabond" song, while Cliff 
 flushed and blushed, and his hand involuntarily sought 
 his chin, in a futile effort to conceal the luxuriant crop 
 that adorned it. 
 
 "Serves me right for allowing you hounds to drag 
 me down to the shore like this, without even giving me 
 a chance to get shaved," muttered Cliff, "if I ever " 
 
 "Aw, can the growl!" interrupted the Duke. 
 "You're worse than a skirt. All fussed up because 
 your nose isn't powdered. Come on fellows let's pull 
 away from here. Cliff's sore on this ranch. Let's 
 roll up the line." 
 
 III. 
 
 Larry pulled up and away they rolled, through the 
 balmy summer night, through the Long Island hamlets 
 and countryside making frequent stops at the numerous 
 hostelries that nestled along the road-side, imbibing 
 further liquid cheer at each stop, till their merriment 
 grew into boisterousness, and they burst into song, 
 rending and scandalizing the serene night with snatches 
 of maudlin melodies, in which Bud's rumbling bass 
 tempered the Shrimp's crescendo tenor, while the others 
 brayed in unison, if not in harmony.
 
 A Roll Through A Night 61 
 
 " Ping ! Pff f ! " Larry brought the car to a stop. 
 
 "Left front shoe, d n the luck!" swore Cliff who 
 had hopped out. 
 
 "'Sail right! No hurry! You'n Larry change it. 
 'Nother two bucks! I'll stake you!" nagged the 
 Shrimp. 
 
 Before Cliff could reply another car rolled up from 
 behind and stopped. 
 
 "Pull over! Pull over! Want the whole road?" 
 bawled the individual at the wheel with arrogant inso- 
 lence. 
 
 Cliff glanced at the car, a snappy runabout, 
 then at its occupants. 
 
 His eyes narrowed and gleamed wickedly. 
 
 "Why, hello!" Cliff greeted the driver. "This 
 is certainly a pleasure. Delighted to see you 
 again!" 
 
 "You are mistaken. I don't know you. Let us 
 pass!" rejoined he of the spats and dainty mustachios 
 nervously, as the ravishing little brunette clung to him 
 apprehensively. 
 
 " Oh, yes you do ! " retorted Cliff. " We gave you a 
 lift earlier in the evening and here's where you recipro- 
 cate. Hey, Larry! Block his rear wheels with some 
 rocks from that wall, so he can't back away. 'Atta 
 boy!"
 
 62 Rummyniscences 
 
 The dandy threatened and the little brunette 
 pleaded tearfully, but Cliff was adamant. 
 
 "Cut the palaver and get busy!" he commanded, 
 brusquely. " Sorry, Miss, but your friend needs a little 
 lesson. Climb out, or I'll yank you out! We changed 
 your shoe and you gave us the laugh. Now you 
 change ours. That's fair enough! If you're decent 
 about it, Larry will give you a hand; if you don't, I'll 
 take it out of your hide!" 
 
 " Oh Reggie, don't resist the brute ! He looks mur- 
 derous!" wailed the brunette. 
 
 " But I paid you for changing my shoe ! " protested 
 Reggie, weakly. "I say, wasn't it quite enough? 
 Here's five dollars, my good fellow. Now do be reason- 
 able ! I really cawn't 
 
 "G'rr!" growled Cliff, throwing off his coat, "y u 
 can that chatter and get busy ! Get a wiggle on or by 
 God I'll" 
 
 The little brunette burst into tears. Cliff paused. 
 
 The affrighted dandy had already hopped down and 
 proceeded to wiggle. With Larry's help he changed the 
 shoe, thoroughly besmudging himself in the process, 
 the while Cliff and the bunch alternated between poking 
 gibes at him and convulsing the now reassured and 
 evidently contrite little brunette. 
 
 "And here's something for your trouble, old dear!"
 
 A Roll Through A Night 63 
 
 was Cliff's parting shot as he tossed the now rather 
 disreputable looking and much abashed dandy a two 
 dollar bill, before they rolled gleefully on their 
 
 IV. 
 
 Towards midnight they pulled up at the Hermitage 
 and alighted there for a little bite and whatever diver- 
 sion the place might afford. 
 
 The Shrimp was by this time much the worse for 
 wear. He clambered uncertainly out of the car, 
 stumbled up the steps and lurched into the foyer, his 
 eyes out of focus and staring wildly. The others fol- 
 lowed none too steadily, Cliff bringing up the rear and 
 looking more disreputable than ever, for as the result of 
 helping Larry to change another blown shoe, he had 
 added a liberal accumulation of grease stains and road- 
 dirt to his mortar-stained clothes. His beard, too, 
 seemed a full eighth of an inch longer and correspond- 
 ingly scrubbier. Moreover, he had lost his straw hat, 
 and wore in its stead a wrinkled, greasy old cap that 
 Larry had extracted from the tool-box. 
 
 The head-waiter regarded them with evident dis- 
 favor and appeared much relieved when they headed 
 for the cafe instead of the dining room. But Joe, the 
 general factotum behind the cozy little bar, welcomed 
 them cordially, for, outside the summer season, he
 
 64 Rummyniscences 
 
 worked behind the bar of a leading Broadway hotel 
 and he knew "the bunch." 
 
 With the exception of two very inebriated young 
 bloods, still in their early twenties, who clutched the 
 bar and incoherently avowed their undying friendship 
 for each other, their alma mater, and what not, the 
 newcomers were the only occupants of the cafe. 
 
 Presently, after they had consumed several high- 
 balls, Joe, winking mysteriously, set before them five 
 champagne glasses, which he proceeded to fill from two 
 pint bottles of Pommery. 
 
 " Who started that fool stunt? " protested Bud, while 
 the rest looked at each other blankly. 
 
 " Sh ! It's all right. Lick 'em up ! " whispered Joe, 
 leaning towards them and grinning broadly. "Them 
 two young souses have been ordering pints about as 
 fast as I can open 'em up. I've got six more stowed 
 under the bar. They're so 'pifflicated' they can't see, 
 and they're rotten with coin. More money than 
 brains ! So I'm not feeding 'em any more wine, 'n just 
 kidding 'em along. When they holler for another pint, 
 I open one, make a bluff at pouring it with my left 
 mitt, while with my trusty right I reach under the bar 
 and grab a bottle of sparkling apple juice, what's 
 charged and full o' bubbles, 'n looks like wine. I gently 
 switch the two an' feeds 'em the apple juice. You get
 
 A Roll Through A Night 65 
 
 the wine, which is all opened and got to be poured 
 anyhow; they get the soft stuff, which is better fer 
 those infants, an' I get the satisfaction of " 
 
 "You get the satisfaction of grabbing this for a 
 starter, you old pirate!" laughed Bud, slipping him a 
 dollar bill. Turning to his friends, he inquired 
 " Well, fellows, what do you say ? It's poured out for us 
 and Joe insists that it must be 'licked up.' Pretty soft 
 for us, but kind of rough on those two young innocents. 
 But Joe's right. They're better off without it. So 
 let's drink their health and wish them good luck! 
 Here's to them! How!" 
 
 The novelty and humor of the situation imparted 
 additional zest and flavor to the wine, and they drained 
 glass after glass, for, as the two inebriated young bloods 
 observed that the newcomers were likewise drinking 
 wine, they ordered more pints to maintain their prestige 
 until, finally, a friend appeared to summon them back 
 to their party and they reeled out. 
 
 The Shrimp was now all but out. "Where'sh the 
 boss sh? " he inquired of Joe, thickly. "Where'sh oF 
 Gus sh? Wantt'shee 'm. Where'sh Gussh?" 
 
 "Upstairs," replied Joe. "He'll be down any 
 minute. Little game upstairs." 
 
 "Wanna shee'm," mumbled the Shrimp, "where'sh 
 game?"
 
 66 Rummyniscences 
 
 "Top floor, better wait till he comes down," an- 
 swered Joe. 
 
 "How'sh I get up there?" persisted the Shrimp. 
 
 "Take the elevator," replied Joe, smiling compla- 
 cently at his own wit, inasmuch as the three story 
 building boasted no such contrivance. 
 
 "Where'sh elevator? Ou'side 'n the hall?" sput- 
 tered the Shrimp. 
 
 Joe nodded and the Shrimp reeled out into the foyer, 
 where he paused, swaying uncertainly, and squinting 
 his left eye to get his bearings. Then, spotting the 
 immense fireplace, which he evidently mistook for the 
 open door of the elevator, he lurched towards and di- 
 rectly into it, and stumbling over some half consumed 
 logs, relics of the last chill March night sprawled 
 into the ashes and passed out, with one arm under his 
 face, and the other fondly wrapped about one of the 
 capsized andirons. 
 
 There they eventually discovered him, snoring 
 peacefully, and hauled him out, besmeared with ashes 
 and carried him out to the car, still dead to the world* 
 and tucked him away in the rear seat, with Larry to 
 watch over him. 
 
 "Now for some eats, to sop up the wine, before we 
 roll back to the big burg," suggested Bud. The others 
 acquiesced and they filed into the dining room.
 
 A Roll Through A Night 67 
 
 The head waiter, hostile from the moment of their 
 arrival, conducted them loftily to the farthest and least 
 conspicuous table, one set in an alcove where they 
 were quite secluded and would not offend the sensibili- 
 ties of the few late guests who still lingered over cordials 
 and nightcaps. Silently he handed them a menu, and 
 surlily, with never a smile, he took Bud's order for a 
 double sirloin, smothered with "violets," and, after 
 noting the rest of their order without a comment or 
 suggestion, he withdrew all dignity. 
 
 "Amiable chap," commented Skeets. "Wonder 
 what ails the d n crab ! " 
 
 ' ' D n crab ! D n crab ! Ho ! Ho ! D n crab ! ' ' 
 echoed the proprietress' parrot, which shared the alcove 
 with them, blinking its eyes sagely. 
 
 "Right you are, Polly," laughed Skeets, and arising 
 from his seat, he approached the cage and in modulated 
 tones confided his further opinion of the head water, to 
 the receptive and loquacious parrot. 
 
 "Sap-head! Blanketty blank, blank sap-head!' 
 shrieked Polly most profanely, responding volubly and 
 ecstatically to Skeets' prompting, to the delight of the 
 other revellers, the disgust of the head waiter, and the 
 dismay of the scandalized proprietress, who left the 
 table at which she was sitting with some guests, rushed 
 up and extinguished Polly's profanity by throwing a
 
 68 Rummyniscences 
 
 dark cloth over her cage. Then with a contemptuous 
 glance at the entire party, she flounced back indignantly 
 to her guests. 
 
 "Guess we're about as popular and welcome as the 
 smallpox ! " observed the Duke, after they had recovered 
 their equanimity. 
 
 "Well, here come the eats. Drink up, fellows! 
 Here's to our beloved and departed comrade, the 
 Shrimp!" 
 
 Cliff said little or nothing. He ate sullenly, con- 
 scious of his disreputable appearance. 
 
 While the others drank and made merry, he fished 
 out the stub of a soft pencil, and moodily soothed his 
 low spirits by indulging his artistic temperament, cov- 
 ering the white tablecloth with caricatures. 
 
 His art studies were rudely terminated by the hos- 
 tile head waiter, who, catching a glimpse of the deco- 
 rated tablecloth as he passed by, stopped short, and 
 ordered Cliff to desist. 
 
 "Say!" he remonstrated, "where do you think you 
 are? If you spoil any more linen you'll have to pay for 
 it!" And, as Cliff glared at him speechless, he added, 
 "And if you don't like it, get out! This is no spaghetti 
 joint for frowsy, long whiskered artists! Get me?" 
 and he withdrew before Cliff could find words to resent 
 this new indignity.
 
 A Roll Through A Night 69 
 
 Thunder clouds were surely gathering on the 
 horizon. 
 
 Skeets, meanwhile, had surreptitiously removed the 
 cloth from Polly's cage, and was endeavoring to coax 
 her into a chat by the repetition of a choice line of epi- 
 thets and profanity, descriptive of the place in general 
 and the head waiter in particular. 
 
 But Polly, who evidently regarded Skeets as the 
 cause of her disgrace, sulked, cocked her eye knowingly, 
 and sidled away to the far corner of the cage, refusing 
 to succumb to the blandishments of this masculine 
 flatterer. 
 
 And then, as Skeets moved around the cage and 
 thrust his fingers between the bars, with a peace offering 
 in the shape of a lump of sugar, Polly swiftly and venge- 
 fully sank her beak into his forefinger, right to the bone, 
 and hung on for dear life, while Skeets danced and 
 howled and swore more powerful and profuse oaths 
 than Polly could ever have mastered. 
 
 In the midst of the excitement that followed, Cliff, 
 with rare presence of mind, and true to his training as 
 a member of the volunteer fire department in his home 
 town, seized a syphon of vichy from the table, and let 
 Polly have the contents straight between the eyes, 
 sousing her completely, till stunned, drenched and 
 half -drowned, she relaxed her grip on Skeets' finger,
 
 70 Rummyniscences 
 
 and flopped about the cage in a rage, dismally shrieking 
 -"Poor Pol, pretty Pol! D n your soul! Poor 
 Pol!" 
 
 Then pandemonium. The proprietress gathered 
 up her skirts and flew to the rescue. She swooped down 
 on Cliff, pummeled his back and shoulders and clawed 
 his face, still further marring his classic beauty, as the 
 head waiter and the other waiters rushed up and into 
 the fracas. 
 
 The battle surged to and fro, through the dining 
 room and out into the foyer, with honors even. Skeets, 
 in the meantime, had managed to slip out and arouse 
 Larry, and returned to the fray with the latter just as 
 Cliff had the extreme satisfaction of landing a powerful 
 and well directed right hand wallop, plumb on the head 
 waiter's chin, which sent him toppling for the count 
 right into the identical fireplace and ashes, in which 
 the Shrimp had snored tranquilly earlier in the night. 
 
 As Skeets and Larry rushed up, the belligerent 
 waiters, seeing their leader sprawled out, hors-de-com- 
 bat, in the fireplace, backed away and retreated to the 
 dining room, whereupon our victorious battlers retired 
 to their car and rolled away, back to the big city, where 
 they arrived at daybreak, battered and sore, but ex- 
 ultant. 
 
 So they called it a night and dispersed to their
 
 A Roll Through A Night 71 
 
 various homes, all but Cliff. He lived in a suburban 
 town, and was confronted with an hour's wait before 
 a train would take him home for a bath, shave, general 
 sprucing up and return to self-respect. 
 
 V. 
 
 He strolled into Bryant Park and sat down on a 
 bench, with his elbows on his knees and his face in his 
 hands. Other benches were occupied by a collection 
 of hoboes who had been there all night and were still 
 sleeping, in a variety of uncomfortable attitudes. 
 Ragged and filthy as they all looked, not one of these 
 hoboes had anything on Cliff, in the way of frowsy 
 and disreputable appearance. 
 
 The policeman who presently made the rounds and 
 awoke these derelicts by the simple process of delivering 
 a sharp clip with his night-stick, on the worn-out soles 
 of their shoes, paused a moment to survey Cliff, whom 
 he evidently considered a most undesirable acquisition 
 to the disreputable fold but passed on without com- 
 ment, merely pausing to glance back and bestow an- 
 other suspicious and searching look to fix him in his 
 memory. 
 
 Then, as the sun began to climb over the surrounding 
 house-tops, and the birds twittered and foraged their 
 breakfast, the particular gaunt and ragged 'bo who
 
 72 Rummyniscences 
 
 occupied the bench directly across the path from Cliff, 
 came to life, stretched, gave himself a shake or two and 
 ran his fingers through his hair and whiskers. His 
 morning toilet thus completed, he sat up and regarded 
 Cliff furtively for some time, and finally, evidently 
 satisfied with his survey, unbuttoned his shirt, reached 
 under it, and from somewhere between the region of his 
 arm-pit and his abdomen, he pulled out a greasy paper 
 bag and extracted from it a sickly looking cruller which 
 he hesitatingly and generously offered Cliff, with the 
 remark: "Have a bite, pard! I got two more!" 
 
 Poor Cliff! The ragged 'bo actually felt sorry for 
 him! Annoyed and yet amused, Cliff arose, waved 
 aside the cruller, dug a half-dollar out of his jeans, tossed 
 it to the astounded hobo, and more disgusted with 
 himself than ever he sauntered over to a bench on the 
 other side of the park only to be ordered to "Move on 
 and keep moving" by the vigilant and hostile bluecoat, 
 who had observed his shift of anchorage with increased 
 suspicion. 
 
 "H 1!" muttered Cliff, "Guess I'm a pretty tough 
 looking citizen for a gentleman and a scholar. A 
 stubbly chin and a little grime and bang! goes 
 gentility, into the discard! What we are, we are, but 
 it's what we appear to be that gets us a kick or a smile 
 in this big metropoh's of buncombe and camouflage."
 
 A Roll Through A Night 73 
 
 Four hours later, Cliff, metamorphosed and immac- 
 ulate, was accorded marked courtesy as the represen- 
 tative of his firm, at a conference held in one of the most 
 luxurious offices in the financial district. 
 
 "Such is life!" he soliloquized . . . "and New 
 York . . !"
 
 WESTERN UNION NO. 2074 
 
 The tale of how a stormy night and a Wall Street 
 leak culminated in "the Widdy O'Kane's mirricle."
 
 Western Union No. 2074. 
 
 I. 
 
 "DUSINESS in "Corrigan's" was dull for the time 
 ^~^ being. The intermission jam had dispersed itself 
 and returned to the various theatres. 
 
 Outside, a driving sleet that blinded pedestrians, 
 and malevolent March gusts that swooped down, whisk- 
 ing off hats and wrecking umbrellas, kept the few regu- 
 lars that still patronized big Joe's bar, from making the 
 rounds and visiting other haunts. 
 
 Wheeler blew in, stamping his feet and flicking the 
 sleet from his slouch hat. 
 
 "Hello, Tip!" the Duke greeted him. "Fine night 
 to murder a Chinaman, eh! We'd about given you up. 
 What'll you have?" 
 
 "Something hot with a good kick in it," grinned 
 Tip. " Make it a hot scotch. Wow, but it's tough out ! 
 Some storm!" 
 
 They adjourned to their favorite table and proceeded 
 
 77
 
 78 Rummyniscences 
 
 to while away the evening with their customary 
 banter. 
 
 "Something up, outside!" announced Tip pres- 
 ently, making for the door. 
 
 "Couple of drunks, probably," opined Buck, as 
 they vaguely discerned through the frosted plate glass, 
 a group clustered in front of the cafe. 
 
 A moment later Tip returned, bearing in his arms a 
 frail looking, unconscious messenger boy, pale as a 
 sheet and wet to the skin. 
 
 He deposited him tenderly on the leather settee in 
 the corner. 
 
 "Kid's all in, Joe!" announced Tip, as he undid the 
 boy's shoe laces; "Pull off his coat and vest, and take 
 off his collar and tie, Buck," he commanded, as he pro- 
 ceeded to slap the youngster's hands and vigorously 
 rub his feet to restore circulation. 
 
 "I'll fix him up some hot beef broth," volunteered 
 big Joe. "The kid looks starved and chilled to 
 death." 
 
 As he came out of his faint and opened his eyes, the 
 boy looked around bewildered. He half rose, but sank 
 back again weakly. 
 
 "Lie still!" commanded Tip. "You're all right. 
 Here, get that into you!" proffering him the beef broth 
 that Joe handed over.
 
 Western Union No. 2074 79 
 
 "Lem'me up," begged the youngster after finishing 
 the broth with eager relish. " Got another message to 
 d'liver. Gee! I'm way late! Lem'me up, please, 
 and thank you. Got to deliver message." 
 
 "Hang your message! Forget it. You're all in. 
 We'll see that it's delivered. Let's have it!" insisted 
 Tip, forcing the youngster back again. 
 
 "Got to d'liver it myself. Lem'me go, please! 
 I'm all right!" And the youngster struggled to his 
 feet in spite of Tip, laced his shoes, and slipped into his 
 coat. 
 
 Still pale and weak, and trembling with a severe 
 chill, but bent on delivering his message without further 
 delay, he reached for his cap, wrenched away from the 
 hands that sought to detain him and made for the 
 street. 
 
 Tip bounded up, intercepted him at the door and 
 hauled him back. 
 
 "You're a plucky little beggar, a good, game 
 kid!" chided Tip, "but you don't go out into that 
 storm till it lets up a bit and you're dried out and rested 
 up." 
 
 "Got to d'liver my message! Lem'me go, mister, 
 please! I'll get fired!" pleaded the youngster through 
 his chattering teeth. 
 
 "Nothing doing, and you won't get fired either, I'll
 
 80 Rummyniscences 
 
 see that you don't. Let me have your message," 
 insisted Tip. 
 
 No. 2074 reluctantly surrendered his message book 
 to Tip. 
 
 " What 's your name, Kiddo, and where do you live? " 
 queried the latter. 
 
 "Michael O'Kane, sir. No. East 67th Street," 
 replied No. 2074. 
 
 Tip noted down his name and address. "I'm going 
 to write the company a letter advising them what a 
 plucky and faithful employee they have in the youngster 
 and we'll all sign it. What do you say?" announced 
 Tip. 
 
 "Sure," chorused the bunch, "make it good and 
 strong and give the kid a good boost." 
 
 "All right. Get me some writing paper, Joe, and 
 then 'phone for another messenger." 
 
 "Can't get a messenger boy inside of an hour," an- 
 nounced big Joe, returning from the 'phone presently. 
 "Boys all out and delayed by the storm," he 
 added. 
 
 "Well, we've got to get it delivered," declared Tip. 
 "Let's have a look at that book. Where does the tele- 
 gram go to?" 
 
 "Union League Club," vouchsafed No. 2074, "I'm 
 all right now, please."
 
 Western Union No. 2074 81 
 
 " Why, that's only half a dozen blocks away. I'll 
 deliver it myself," announced Tip, reaching for his 
 coat. 
 
 "Hold on, Tip!" remonstrated Buck. "You re- 
 semble a messenger boy about as much as you do a 
 chorus doll! Let the Shrimp deliver it." 
 
 "Meaning I resemble either, or both?" queried the 
 Shrimp, resentfully. 
 
 "Nonsense!" laughed Buck, "but you are slight 
 and boyish looking, and can get away with it! How 
 about you?" 
 
 "Sure, I'm game!" agreed the Shrimp. "Might 
 pick up a quarter, too! Never can tell!" 
 
 Whereupon they clapped No. 2074 's messenger cap 
 on the Shrimp, bundled him into an old coat belonging 
 to the bootblack, turned up his coat collar to conceal 
 his silk shirt and scarf, and surveyed him with much 
 glee, declaring unanimously and hilariously that he 
 looked like "a typical young Mercury, and a particu- 
 larly fresh one at that!" 
 
 "On your way, now, Swifty, and hurry back!" 
 laughed Tip, while No. 2074 gazed on bewildered and 
 with much misgiving. 
 
 " Gim'me a ciggy ! " mimicked the Shrimp, " and I'm 
 off. Au revoir!" to the disgust of Micky, whose vo- 
 cabulary was innocent of all " parly voo" and whose
 
 82 Rummyniscences 
 
 Western Union ethics were scandalized by such lingo 
 coming from under his own cap. 
 
 II. 
 
 For the next half hour Micky led the life of Reilly. 
 He was fed up on broth and toast, fussed over, and 
 forced to accept a two dollar note that the Duke thrust 
 into his fist. 
 
 Another quarter of an hour elapsed and Micky was 
 beginning to entertain misgivings about the return of 
 "dat udder swell wid me lid an' book," when the Shrimp 
 re-appeared, all wet and aglow, divested himself of his 
 make-up and sipped the hot toddy that big Joe placed 
 before him, while the others sat back expectantly. 
 
 "Well!" inquired Buck, "did you get the quarter?" 
 
 "Nope, but I copped a buck!" rejoined the Shrimp 
 complacently, flashing a new dollar bill, which he there- 
 upon bestowed on the bewildered Micky, whose eyes 
 shone in wide open amazement. 
 
 "A dollar tip, eh! What for? " again queried Buck, 
 while the Shrimp continued to sip his toddy in aggra- 
 vating silence. 
 
 "Come, shoot us the story! What happened?" 
 demanded Tip. 
 
 "Oh, nothing much," vouchsafed the Shrimp, as he 
 drained his goblet.
 
 Western Union No. 2074 83 
 
 " I made the Union League and blew up to the desk. 
 The clerk took the telegram and picked up the 'phone. 
 'Telegram for you, sir,' he said. Then, turning to me, 
 he continued, 'They want the messenger to take it up. 
 May want to send an answer. Room 403, fourth floor 
 front.' 
 
 "So up I go to 403. Five gentlemen sitting around 
 a table, covered with papers. Box of cigars, high-balls, 
 siphons and all that. Swell bunch in evening clothes. 
 Looked like big bugs. Old buck, bald and red-faced, 
 but very distinguished looking, opened the telegram 
 and read it to the rest. 
 
 " 'That clinches the deal,' he says. 'Turner has 
 the proxies and everything is settled. Won't be an- 
 nounced until Friday morning. That gives us all day 
 tomorrow to work in.' Then he turned to a quiet- 
 looking slim chap who was poring over their dope sheets, 
 and says, 'Well, Art, it's up to you now! You'll have 
 to go some tomorrow. You'll have the time of your 
 life squeezing the shorts. Step on her, boy! Tear 
 the throttle wide open! Nothing to it now but to run 
 her up and get out near the top. We're good for at 
 least twenty, and possibly thirty points, or I miss my 
 
 guess 
 
 "And then they all fell to palavering and made a lot 
 of calculations, and talked in figures that made my head
 
 84 Rummyniscences 
 
 swim. Millions ! Talk of a big pool that the slim chap 
 was to operate. I thought at first that they were plan- 
 ning to build a luxurious swimming pool at some swell 
 resort, till I got next to their talk, and tumbled to the 
 fact that it was a big stock deal they had framed and 
 were ready to put over. They paid no attention to me 
 whatever, they were so steamed up over it all. 
 
 " Finally they decided not to send an answer by wire, 
 but to call up some party in Detroit on the long distance 
 'phone instead. So the 'big squeeze' hands me a dollar 
 bill, because they had kept me waiting for nothing and 
 sent me on my way. That's all! Here's your book, 
 Micky, all signed up and everything!" 
 
 "That's all! What's all?" echoed Tip, his eyes 
 ablaze and his features tense with excitement. " What 
 are they going to shoot? What what did they say 
 they'd shoot up twenty or thirty points?" 
 
 "Search me," replied the Shrimp, "it was all over 
 my head." 
 
 "But didn't they mention the name of the stock?" 
 persisted Tip. "What stock is the pool going to run 
 up, man? Gee, what a chance to get aboard for a kill- 
 ing! What stock are they going to ride?" 
 
 " Didn't get it," replied the Shrimp. " Stock market 
 don't interest me. Too rich for my blood. Dollar 
 limit poker is my top speed."
 
 Western Union No. 2074 85 
 
 "Well, what were they talking about, you poor 
 simp? Steel, oils, railroads or what?" demanded Tip, 
 keenly disappointed. 
 
 "None of them. It was automobiles. Several 
 makes. Some kind of amalgamation, with an exchange 
 of stock, two for one, or one for two, or three, or some- 
 thing!" replied the Shrimp triumphantly. 
 
 "And a long distance 'phone to Detroit tonight," 
 mused Tip. "Who was the big bug, I wonder? Say, 
 let me see that message book. He signed for the tele- 
 gram, didn't he? Can't make out his scrawl. Looks 
 like Curto, no Carto, Carter that's it ! L. M- 
 Carter. Sure enough! Dollars to doughnuts he's 
 phoning Griggs, President of the Eclipse Motor Co., at 
 Detroit. I've got it! The big Universal Motor 
 merger ! Rumored some time ago, but never confirmed, 
 in fact officially denied at the time. Going to put it 
 over, now, on the Q. T. Oh, boy! What a chance to 
 clean up, tomorrow!" 
 
 Tip, as you can readily perceive, was an ardent 
 member of the tape-bucking fraternity, and one who 
 had encountered about the average degree of success in 
 his speculations that is to say, his endeavors to out- 
 guess the manipulators had been quite disastrous and 
 his bank roll had been correspondingly depleted. 
 
 "Boys!" declared Tip, "Tomorrow I'll shoot the
 
 86 Rummyniscences 
 
 works on Universal Motors, sink or swim, and if I clean 
 up and get back what the market owes me, 'good-bye 
 and fare-thee-well for ever' to Wall Street. They'll 
 never hook me again! And that goes !" 
 
 "For a while," commented the Shrimp dryly. 
 
 "Yes, the lambs always come back to the fold, to 
 be shorn again eventually," added Cliff. 
 
 "Greatest sucker's game on the list," muttered 
 Buck. "Got the shell game backed off the boards." 
 
 "Right," acquiesced the Duke, "they got me too, 
 Buck." 
 
 Whereupon there ensued an animated discussion on 
 the evils of speculating and its hazards, with the usual 
 recital of big clean-ups, of shoe-strings run into fortunes. 
 
 "Chance of a life time!" declared Tip. "Red-hot 
 information right off the griddle. Let's all get aboard 
 for a little, anyhow. We'd never forgive ourselves for 
 being asleep at the switch, after Universal Motors has 
 had its big spurt. Now here's my dope. We're none of 
 us big leaguers, but we can club together and take a 
 little flyer, anyhow. 
 
 "There are five of us. Let's buy five hundred 
 shares, a hundred shares apiece, on a ten-point margin. 
 I'm going to buy more on my own account. We'll 
 buy, say, two hundred shares right at the opening of the 
 market, and then another hundred shares on each half
 
 Western Union No. 2074 87 
 
 point up or down, according to how the market goes. 
 We'll put a two-point 'stop-loss' order on each purchase 
 and let her ride. The pool will, of course, take all the 
 stock offered, accumulating it for the rise, in advance 
 of the public's scramble for it when the merger is 
 announced, even if our dope goes all wrong, we can't 
 lose more than a couple of hundred dollars apiece, plus 
 commissions, and we stand to clean up big. What do 
 you say?" 
 
 And they said "Yes." What bunch of real 
 sports ever knowingly would pass up a chance to cop on 
 real inside dope? 
 
 III. 
 
 And therein lay the explanation of the "Widdy 
 O'Kane's Mirricle," which the Widdy with charac- 
 teristic Celtic animation, recounted to the other ladies 
 of her "tiniment," a few days later, as follows: 
 
 "Shure, an' late last night," she asserted, "bid time 
 it were, an' me all alone, an' Mickey still out wid thini 
 Casey byes, the Divil fly away wid thim whin 
 wan o' thim tackchees rolled up to the tiniment, which 
 Mrs. Murphy seen wid her own eyes, an' up to me flat 
 marches five illigant gintlement, full o' licker an' divil- 
 ment, an' says wan to me, the big tall wan, wid the 
 dimint pin, says he to me, 'Are you Mrs. O'Kane?'
 
 88 Rummyniscences 
 
 an* I says 'I am that.' 'The mither o' Mickey O'Kane, 
 the missinger bye?' he asks, an' I says, 'The very 
 same.' ' 
 
 " Wid that a runt of a doode, which dey called the 
 imp, which he was, up's on' his toes an' trows his arms 
 'round me neck an' shmacks me right shquare on me 
 mouth, an' be .all the saints, before I got over me sur- 
 prise, they all does that very same, an' whin I grabs 
 the broom to whack thim all over their drunken heads, 
 an' clear thim out, the swellest wan, the wan they 
 called the Juke, grabs the broom out o' me hand, 
 sticks five bran' new wan hundred dollar bills in me 
 fist an' says it's for the bist missinger bye in Noo York 
 an' his rale Irish mother, which I am, glory be to the 
 Saints. An' thin they runs off laffin, an' me sthruck 
 dumm like a ijiot, an' niver a 'thank ye' or a blessin' 
 could I give them for their money an' their impidence." 
 
 SMRO
 
 VERY GOOD, EDDIE! 
 
 In which Finkel makes a "little mistake" and Eddie 
 acquires a fine hang-over and a new job.
 
 Very Good, Eddie! 
 
 I. 
 
 TT^DDIE, a bit late, but characteristically unper- 
 "^"^ turbed, gave his tie a final pat, carefully stroked 
 down the sparse hairs that stood between him and a 
 bald pate, slipped into his dinner coat, surveyed him- 
 self deliberately and critically in his mirror, and com- 
 placently lighted a cigarette. 
 
 "And another little drink won't do any harm" he 
 hummed, his waiting compatriots in mind, as he saun- 
 tered over to the 'phone and ordered a taxi. 
 
 From all of which you may rightly infer that neither 
 lateness nor any other trifle could ruffle Eddie. 
 
 Alighting at Martin's, he checked his coat, hat and 
 stick, and with his head stiffly erect, his sphinx-like 
 physiognomy as inexpressive as his expanse of white 
 shirt front, he meandered dignifiedly among the tables, 
 seeking his friends. 
 
 91
 
 92 Rummyniscences 
 
 The hum and clatter that pervaded the well-filled 
 dining-room failed to drown a particularly domineering 
 and rasping voice. As Eddie turned resentfully towards 
 its source, he was surprised to find the loud indi- 
 vidual looking directly at him and beckoning him 
 excitedly. 
 
 The voice and the gesticulation emanated from a 
 portly, flushed and evidently irritated gentleman, of a 
 decidedly Hebraic cast of countenance, characteristic 
 of a common metropolitan type of opulence and ill- 
 breeding. 
 
 As Eddie surveyed him, the excited gestures of the 
 flamboyant gentleman became more aggravated. He 
 crooked his forefinger at Eddie, beckoning him over 
 insistently. Somewhat curious, and dominated by the 
 other's insistence, Eddie, in spite of his instinctive dis- 
 like, sauntered over. The florid guest seized him by 
 the sleeve, maintained his grip and fairly shouted: 
 
 "Say, what's the matter? Don't we get no service? 
 This is out-ra-gee-ous ! Rotten service! You know 
 me? No! I'm Mr. Finkel. Finkel, of Goldberg and 
 Finkel. Get busy! Open that wine what that fool 
 waiter leaves here and then runs off. Maybe he thinks 
 we want to carry it home with us in that pail. Such 
 service! You head waiters shouldn't hire such stupids, 
 Stick around and give us a little attention I'm a
 
 Very Good, Eddie! 93 
 
 reggelar feller and this is a reggelar party. Now get 
 busy!" 
 
 "Sir," said Eddie quietly and without a flush or 
 change of expression. 
 
 "Get busy!" continued Finkel "Open up that 
 wine. Look, he stands like a dummy! Such service! 
 Get a move on!" 
 
 "Yes, Sir," said Eddie quietly, picking up a napkin 
 from the adjoining table and reaching for the bottle of 
 champagne. Wrapping the napkin about it in orthodox 
 fashion and extracting the cork with skill that would 
 have done credit to any head waiter, he calmly in- 
 quired " Shall I pour it, Sir?" 
 
 "Sure, pour it!" growled Finkel. "I should pour 
 it myself, maybe! Such service!" 
 
 "Yes, Sir," said Eddie demurely, and throwing the 
 napkin over his arm, he poured the first installment of 
 bubbles into Finkel's glass, quietly made the round of 
 the table, and after carefully filling each glass, placed 
 the bottle in front of Finkel. Bowing dignifiedly, he 
 quietly asked, "Anything else, Sir?" and receiving 
 only a grunt in reply, and at the same time discerning 
 his own party only a few tables away, gaping at him in 
 open-mouthed amazement, he bowed again and with- 
 drew. 
 
 Finkel's friends observed with considerable surprise
 
 94 Rummyniscences 
 
 the head waiter who had just served them, seat himself 
 familiarly at another table. The burst of hilarious 
 laughter that greeted Eddie's recital caused Finkel 
 himself to turn and look over curiously. His look of 
 astonishment turned to bewilderment. There followed 
 at his table a converging of heads and much animated 
 whispering and Hebraic calisthenics. Eventually the 
 head waiter, the genuine brand in this instance, was 
 dispatched to Eddie's table, and as duly accredited 
 envoy, delivered this message to Eddie. 
 
 "The gentleman at the other table is quite sorry, sir! 
 He wishes to send his apologies. He says he made a 
 little mistake, sir." 
 
 "A little mistake!" echoed Eddie "Oh, well! 
 Let it go at that. Tell him to forget it. But say, you 
 might add that a real 'regular feller' as he declared him- 
 self to be, might realize that the drinks are on himself. 
 And he wouldn't be making another 'little mistake' 
 either, " he concluded, somewhat malevolently. 
 
 Which message, or the substance thereof, the head- 
 waiter evidently imparted to Finkel, for there followed 
 another converging of heads and another animated con- 
 clave. In due time a head waiter deposited a little 
 pailful alongside of Eddie with Finkel's compliments. 
 
 Whereupon Eddie, entirely mollified, presently 
 returned the compliment. All of which furnished a
 
 Very Good, Eddie! 95 
 
 good start for a very hilarious and extremely moist 
 bubble-fest with the ultimate result that towards dawn, 
 his taxi and the milk-wagon both made simultaneous 
 delivery at Eddie's abode. 
 
 II. 
 
 While Eddie and his companions were consuming 
 Finkel's and subsequent quarts, the latter ambled over 
 to greet old Carleton, a power in the financial world. 
 
 Carleton had evidently observed Finkel's head- 
 waiter fiasco, for he was looking over at Finkel and his 
 party, apparently quite amused. 
 
 "What kind of a cheap burlesque stunt did that 
 ignoramus pull on you?" inquired Carleton after 
 acknowledging Finkel's greeting. 
 
 " That ignor-nor-mus ! " stammered Finkel. "Say, 
 he ain't no fool. That's a smart feller. He stuck me 
 for a quart!" And Finkel recounted the episode to old 
 Carleton, to the latter's keen delectation. 
 
 "Yes, sir!" That's a smart feller!" concluded 
 Finkel. 
 
 "Smart feller nothing!" growled Carleton. "He's 
 a clerk in our bond department and I guess he's a pretty 
 dissolute character. I'll have him investigated." 
 
 "A clerk!" ejaculated Finkel incredulously. "A 
 clerk! Such a smart feller! Say, he should be a
 
 96 Rummyniscences 
 
 salesman, and I guess I know a good salesman when I 
 see one. That's a smart feller! He could sell any- 
 thing ! Phonographs, he could sell even to deaf-mutes, 
 and stocks and securities, say, I bet he could sell 
 like hot-cakes to the schlemils he schmooses around 
 with. Send him around and I'll give him some bisness, 
 That's a smart feller! He stuck me fair." 
 
 "Nonsense," rejoined old Carleton, "I'll see that 
 one of our regular bond salesmen calls on you. " 
 
 "Nix on those wind-bags!" protested Finkel. "I 
 got time to talk only to smart people, not noosances!" 
 
 III. 
 
 Later in the morning when Eddie, afflicted with both 
 a fine young hang-over and a pronounced grouch, 
 eventually put in a belated appearance at the office 
 and listlessly delved into the stack of bonds and other 
 securities that had accumulated on his desk, Chubby 
 pussy-footed alongside and in an awed whisper greeted 
 him thusly: 
 
 "Gee, Mr. Reynolds, the boss wants you to come 
 right to his office. He's asked for you three times, and 
 he looks madder'n thunder!" 
 
 "Here's where I get mine and it's coming to me 
 too!" grunted Eddie. "Damn Martin's, and his wine 
 and that accursed Finkel that started it all! Well,
 
 Very Good, Eddie! 97 
 
 here's where I beard the old lion in his den!" he 
 muttered, as he adjusted his tie, squared back his 
 shoulders, and marched into the much dreaded sanctum 
 sanctorum of old Carleton, human icicle and president 
 of the Trust Company. 
 
 The latter swung 'round in his chair, and regarded 
 Eddie sternly. His bullet head appeared harder, his 
 firm jaw squarer than ever, and his cold, penetrating 
 eyes pierced Eddie searchingly. 
 
 But, as you have already learned, Eddie was not 
 easily disconcerted. 
 
 "You sent for me, sir," he said, quietly. 
 
 "Young man," replied old Carleton coldly and 
 ominously, "You are quite late this morning." 
 
 "I'm sorry, sir!" replied Eddie. 
 
 "Well, I have not been informed of any tie-up on 
 the Subway or the surface lines," proceeded old Carle- 
 ton, pausing and eyeing Eddie even more coldly. 
 
 "No, sir! I'm sorry, but I overslept!" replied 
 Eddie with characteristic brevity and candor. 
 
 "I rather expected a well concocted excuse," pro- 
 ceeded his inquisitor. "However, it would have 
 availed you little for I happen to know the truth. You 
 dined at Martin's last night. " 
 
 "Yes, sir!" answered Eddie, somewhat taken aback. 
 
 "Well, young man, so did I. Mrs. Carleton and
 
 98 Rummyniscences 
 
 I, and some guests," he added, frowning severely. 
 "Our table adjoined the one at which you cut up your 
 capers, but a column served to screen me and to protect 
 your blissful ignorance. You make an excellent head 
 waiter, and open wine splendidly, but we have no 
 room in our accounting department for young men who 
 dissipate and demean themselves. Nor can we entrust 
 the handling of our securities to a young man slick 
 enough to wheedle a bottle of wine out of that close- 
 fisted and slippery stock-manipulator, Finkel. I will 
 have to request you to apply your nerve and entertain- 
 ing ability elsewhere. 
 
 Kindly put your affairs in shape and turn them over 
 to Mr. Scroggs. You need not report at your desk 
 tomorrow. Your services there are no longer required, " 
 concluded the Icicle coldly, and with a finality that 
 brooked no further argument or discussion. 
 
 Eddie flushed, his eyes flashed and his lips half 
 parted to voice his indignation, but closed again firmly. 
 Without deigning a reply, he drew himself up to his full 
 height, turned on his heel, and dignifiedly withdrew. 
 
 "One moment!" interrupted old Carleton, just as 
 Eddie reached the door. "Just one word more, young 
 
 man ! In the morning you will report to Mr. 
 
 Burney, manager of our bond sales department, who 
 has been instructed to install you as assistant manager.
 
 Very Good, Eddie! 99 
 
 "The sales-end of the business will afford ample 
 opportunity for the exercise of your nerve and enter- 
 taining proclivities, and the increase in salary will serve 
 to make it unnecessary for you to assume head waiter- 
 ships after hours. 
 
 "That will be all, this morning!" old Carleton con- 
 cluded, with just the trace of a twinkle in his eye.
 
 'TWIXT TWO AND DAWN 
 
 Being the tale of two belated prowlers, a can of milk 
 and a cluster of sandwiches and hoboes.
 
 Twixt Two and Dawn. 
 
 I. 
 
 NE balmy summer night, well on towards dawn, as 
 Buck and the Shrimp wandered aimlessly down 
 Broadway, after assisting in "blowing out the lights" 
 in several of their favorite haunts, they were confronted 
 with a spectacle that caused them to pause in amaze- 
 ment. 
 
 There, right on Broadway, in front of an all-night 
 lunchroom near Times Square, stood a milk-can, 
 glistening brazenly and defiantly in the moonlight, an 
 affront to King Alcohol and all his cohorts, a challenge, 
 hurled in the heart of his domain. 
 
 And as they paused to survey resentfully this symbol 
 of abstinence, it came to pass that Buck, in retaliation 
 for a particularly ill-timed and goading jest, gave the 
 
 Shrimp a playful shove that sent him sprawling against 
 
 103
 
 104 Rummy niscences 
 
 the offending can, toppling it clatteringly into the 
 gutter, where it gyrated about in humbled agony, while 
 its life blood in the shape of rich, white milk, overflowed 
 the asphalt. All of which these two worshippers of 
 Bacchus contemplated with much amusement and 
 satisfaction. 
 
 "Behold!" commented the Shrimp solemnly, recov- 
 ering his sea-legs, and striking an oratorical attitude, 
 with one eye cocked at the humbled can " Behold the 
 Great White Way, Buck! Oft' have I heard this big 
 alley so designated, but never before have I seen it 
 vested in its white robes of pristine purity. It strikes 
 me" 
 
 And just then it did, in the shape of an open-handed 
 wallop behind the ear, delivered by the irate proprietor 
 of the lunchroom, who, hearing the clatter, rushed out, 
 pounced on the Shrimp, and seized him by the collar. 
 
 "Let go of him!" interposed Buck, drawing him- 
 self up threateningly to his full six foot one, "Just hold 
 your horses a minute! It was an accident, that's all, 
 and we'll pay you for your d d milk. " 
 
 " You bet your life you will ! " replied the lunch man 
 belligerently, as he observed an officer approaching, and 
 a few belated prowlers and regulars gathering around. 
 
 "Say, officer, this runt kicked over my can of milk 
 and this big guy's giving me an argument and I'm in a
 
 'Twixt Two and Dawn 105 
 
 fine pickle with no cream for the morning trade. Spilt 
 my milk just for the h 1 of it. Bonehead, rah! rah 
 stuff! Lock 'em up! I'll teach 'em something they 
 don't learn in no collidge!" 
 
 "Case of pay up or lock-up!" commented the 
 officer brusquely. 
 
 "Get inside, you three, and all you long-necks get- 
 ting ear-fulls, beat it! Move on, all of you!" com- 
 manded the blue-coat. 
 
 II. 
 
 Inside the lunchroom, which was empty save for the 
 proprietor's handy man and chief cook and bottle 
 washer, the officer, addressing Buck and the Shrimp, 
 inquired : 
 
 "Well, how about it? Which is it, pay up or a ride 
 in the wagon?" 
 
 "We told him we'd pay him, but he wont listen 
 and keep his temper. He 
 
 "All right, what's the damage?" interrupted the 
 blue-coated Solon, turning to the proprietor and evi- 
 dently not over anxious to make the arrest and appear 
 in court in the morning. 
 
 "Well, " replied the latter quieting down at the pros- 
 pect of a financial settlement, "Well, the milk cost me 
 about three dollars, but I can't serve no milk nor no
 
 106 Rummy niscences 
 
 coffee and I can't get another can in time for my break- 
 fast trade." 
 
 "Give you five dollars and call it square," replied 
 Buck. 
 
 " Fork it over 'n I'm shut ! " answered the lunchman. 
 
 Buck peeled off a five dollar note and passed it to 
 him. 
 
 "About a third still left in the can, Boss," 
 announced the handy man, who had been outside flush- 
 ing the street to clean up the mess. 
 
 "Good enough, that'll help some!" remarked the 
 proprietor, his good nature recovered and actually 
 smiling now. 
 
 About that time, Buck's brain, stimulated by nu- 
 merous potions and eased by a sense of relief at the 
 amicable termination of the incident, began to function. 
 His eyes gleamed, the corners of his mouth drew slightly 
 upwards in a half suppressed smile, as he quietly re- 
 marked : 
 
 "Whoa! Put on your brakes! You're speeding! 
 Just a minute!" And addressing himself to the officer, 
 he continued, "Now let's get this right. I've paid our 
 friend here five dollars, two dollars more than he asked 
 for all the milk in the can. Isn't that right?" 
 
 "Guess so," replied the representative of law and 
 order.
 
 'Twixt Two and Dawn 107 
 
 "Well, then," continued Buck, "the milk belongs 
 to me, doesn't it?" 
 
 " Guess that's right, " replied the officer, somewhat 
 reluctantly. "What'che got up yer sleeve? Want to 
 sell it back to him again? Don't get too smart, young 
 feller ! Y'aint out of this yet ! " 
 
 " Oh, not at all ! " laughed Buck. " On the contrary, 
 I propose, with your consent, having paid a liberal price 
 for it, to keep the milk that's left in the can for myself. " 
 
 "But the can belongs to me!" protested the pro- 
 prietor, "that is, it belongs to the company and I'm 
 responsible for it. If it's your milk, it's my can, and I 
 can't wrap it up in no paper bundle for you, to carry it 
 away in. Anyhow 
 
 "All right," agreed Buck, "It's your can. What's 
 the can worth?" 
 
 "Don't know! Never bought one in my life. 
 What's the game?" 
 
 "Give you three dollars for the can!" suggested 
 Buck, "What do you say?" 
 
 "It's a go, you're on!" replied the proprietor. 
 
 "Well then, that's settled, officer!" proceeded Buck. 
 "Both the milk and the can belong to me, don't they?'' 
 
 "They're yours, all right!" growled the officer, 
 whose perplexity was shared both by the proprietor and 
 the Shrimp.
 
 108 Rummyniscences 
 
 "What's the big idea, Buck? What's coming off? 
 I don't get you! " queried the latter. 
 
 "You'll get it later, just leave this to me," replied 
 Buck. 
 
 "Now then," proceeded Buck, addressing the pro- 
 prietor again. "I'll give you a couple of dollars if 
 you'll let me have the use of your man here for an hour 
 or so. Have him back before your breakfast trade 
 comes along and pay him besides. What do you say? 
 Here's the two spot!" 
 
 " Ye-yes ! " replied the bewildered proprietor pocket- 
 ing the money and pinching himself. "Sell ye the 
 whole ranch if ye say so. " 
 
 "No, not to-night, " laughed Buck, "but I'll buy all 
 the hot coffee in that urn. You can make another 
 urnful. What will you take for it? And how much 
 for all those sandwiches piled up back on that 
 shelf?" 
 
 "Holy Smoke!" ejaculated the proprietor, "How 
 do I know? I sell my coffee by the cup. Say!" turn- 
 ing to the officer, "What d'ye make of 'em, nuts or 
 millionaires?" The latter shrugged his shoulders non- 
 commitally. "Don't know who they are or what they 
 are, but there ain't goin' to be any more monkey shines, 
 that's what!" 
 
 "You're nutty alright!" asserted the Shrimp,
 
 'Twixt Two and Dawn 109 
 
 plucking Buck by the sleeve, " Let's get out of this and 
 cut the comedy." 
 
 "Well, how much for the coffee and sandwiches?" 
 persisted Buck, ignoring the bewildered Shrimp. 
 
 The proprietor scratched his head. "There's about 
 one hundred cups in that urn, but she's only half full. 
 I get five cents a cup. The sandwiches is ten cents. 
 There's about fifty of 'em!" 
 
 "All right," continued Buck, "that's about two- 
 fifty for the coffee and five for the sandwiches. What 
 do you say?" 
 
 "Don't you want some pastry and cigars too?" 
 replied the proprietor half sarcastically and half in 
 earnest. "Why don't ye buy the whole outfit? What 
 are ye tryin' to do? Fit up an opposition lunch-stand 
 with me own stuff, for some of yer swell friends what's 
 broke?" 
 
 "Not at all!" laughed Buck, "but the cigars are a 
 good suggestion. How much for the cigars?" 
 
 "Nickel a piece. They comes twenty -five to the 
 box 'n they're O. K. even for you and your swells," 
 replied the proprietor belligerently. 
 
 "I'll take two boxes. That's another two-fifty. 
 Give you ten dollars for the coffee, sandwiches and 
 cigars if you throw in enough sugar to sweeten the coffee 
 and lend me half a dozen cups. Is it a go?"
 
 110 Rummy niscences 
 
 "Sure, anything you say!" replied the proprietor 
 in a daze, as Buck tendered him the money. 
 
 "Now, my man," said Buck, turning to the assis- 
 tant, "you're working for me for an hour or so. Here's 
 a dollar for you as a starter. Bring in that can with 
 the milk that's left in it, pour the coffee in that urn into 
 the can. Sweeten it up with some sugar and wrap up 
 the sandwiches and cigars, do you understand?" 
 
 "Sure, Boss!" replied the man-of -all-work, touch- 
 ing his hat and stepping out with alacrity for the milk 
 can. 
 
 "Good, hurry up, now!" said Buck. "Everything 
 all right and fixed up, officer?" 
 
 "Everything and everybody except the judge and 
 the jury, " replied the latter shrewdly. 
 
 "Gee whiz, that's so!" laughed Buck, slipping him 
 a five spot as he shook his hand. "Much obliged for 
 being so decent about it!" 
 
 " Aw, that's all right. I ain't locking up everybody. 
 'Specially gents what's good sports. Good night!" 
 and the officer discreetly withdrew. 
 
 "Now, Shrimp," said Buck, "hail a taxi, while we 
 get things fixed up. We're going away from here. 
 Never mind ! Tell you all about it in the taxi. Go out 
 and grab one. " 
 
 The taxi pulled up in a few minutes. Buck and the
 
 Twixt Two and Dawn 111 
 
 Shrimp got in. The helper with the milk can and his 
 packages settled down alongside of the chauffeur. 
 "Bryant Park!" said Buck, and away they rolled leav- 
 ing the proprietor staring after them open-mouthed. 
 
 III. 
 
 "Well, I give it up, Buck! What's the answer? 
 If you're not plumb crazy, you'll have to show me! 
 Never feed you any of those star cocktails again. That 
 apple-jack is liquid T. N. T. ! All that money for milk 
 and grub and not a drop for liquor! You ought to get 
 your head examined!" upbraided the Shrimp, as they 
 rolled along. 
 
 "That's all right!" replied Buck. "I won twice 
 that amount at poker last night. We were in for it. 
 Had to pay for the milk anyhow. So why not use it? 
 We're going to feed the poor birds in Bryant Park. 
 It's time we did a little uplift work. All of it we've 
 done so far is lifting up wine glasses. It'll be a good 
 lark and ease our consciences." 
 
 And so, at four o'clock on this warm summer morn- 
 ing, our taxi pulled up at the curb in front of Bryant 
 Park, and Tom of the lunchroom was instructed to 
 quietly set up the can full of hot coffee, and the sand- 
 wiches, on a vacant bench.
 
 112 Rummyniscences 
 
 "As soon as everything's ready, Tom," commanded 
 Buck, "wake up these birds and invite them to tea, or 
 coffee, rather." 
 
 And Tom, who had intermittently been a hobo him- 
 self, w r andered among the benches, shook each hobo 
 out of his slumbers and whispered a few magic words 
 in his ears, whereat, out of the shadows, there presently 
 gathered about the "collation" a shuffling, ragged, non- 
 descript collection of "down-and-out" human flotsam 
 and jetsam, who stood off, rubbing their bleary eyes in 
 unbelief and amazement at this novel institution, never 
 before encountered in any of their open air dormitories. 
 
 "Serve the gentlemen, Tom!" directed Buck, as the 
 Shrimp returned and reported that no officer was in 
 sight. 
 
 The coffee and the sandwiches were dispensed to the 
 accompaniment of mumbled thanks. The more brazen 
 ones, in the meantime, pressed about Buck and the 
 Shrimp, and imparted to them their stereotyped hard 
 luck stories in the hope of extracting some silver from 
 their benefactors. 
 
 "Pass the cigars, Tom!" ordered Buck, whereat 
 there followed a concerted and converging movement 
 on Tom. 
 
 At this juncture, a powerful grizzly bearded 'bo 
 pushed through, hurled the other hoboes aside, and
 
 'Twixt Two and Dawn 
 
 113 
 
 snatched both boxes of cigars away from Tom with the 
 announcement: 
 
 "Dese goes to me! Dey're good fer a couple o' 
 bucks! You'se guys clean up de grub. I'll take care 
 o' de smokes!" 
 
 A howl of protest, a torrent of oaths, a rush at the 
 big hobo, and then a fine free-for-all, intermingled with 
 flying fists and well-delivered kicks. Bedlam was 
 loose, and the stillness of the night was rent by the dis- 
 cordant cries of battle. 
 
 "Come on!" exclaimed Buck, grasping the Shrimp 
 by the arm, "Some battle! No more up-lift work for 
 me ! Let's beat it before the cops get here and we get 
 grabbed again. I'm through! Come on!" 
 
 And as the taxi whirled them away, the chauffeur 
 added another fragment to his bizarre mosaic of New 
 York nights.
 
 THE STOIC TAKES THE COUNT 
 
 In which philosophy is floored by a combination 
 of humidity, corpulency and "general cussedness. "
 
 The Stoic Takes the Count. 
 
 I. 
 
 nPHE end of a perfect day of misery; the stickiest 
 and most sultry of a record hot spell; a day of 
 wilted collars, palm-leaf fans, rickies and fizzes ; a 
 lurid day, and a night equally oppressive. 
 
 All of which didn't feaze Cliff's easy going disposi- 
 tion. He refused to swelter, or fuss, or swear, or liquor 
 up, or gape at thermometers, or resort to the orthodox 
 procedures commonly observed in "sizzling" weather. 
 
 In cool pongee silk pajamas and straw moccasins, 
 he lounged away the day in his bachelor quarters. 
 Later, he betook himself to the Athletic Club. Four 
 fast round with Professor Dan, a mile lope around the 
 track, some toying with the medicine ball and the 
 pulleys, all accompanied by a profuse "sweat," left 
 his system bone-dry. A hot shower followed by a cold 
 
 one, a wallow in the tank, an alcohol rub, and Cliff, 
 
 117
 
 118 Rummy niscences 
 
 refreshed, comfortable and almost cool, taxied to his 
 train for dinner at the country club. 
 
 II. 
 
 In the smoking car he was fortunate enough to 
 secure the last vacant seat, next to the door. He 
 sprawled out comfortably, and surveyed with a smile 
 of mixed amusement and compassion his stewing and 
 steaming fellow-passengers, a variegated array of 
 shirt waists and ill-temper. 
 
 Following the fashion prevailing for the evening, he 
 tossed his straw hat in the rack, hung up his coat, rolled 
 up his sleeves, lit a cigarette and presented a picture 
 of comfort and equanimity quite out of accord with the 
 prevailing atmosphere. 
 
 The train, with the smoker half filled, was just pull- 
 ing out when a gasping, puffing, snorting volcano, in 
 the shape of some two hundred and eighty pounds of 
 red-faced obesity, reeking perspiration and alcohol 
 waddled in trailing his coat with one hand and brandish- 
 ing his collar, tie and hat in the other. Instinctively 
 the single occupants of the double seats, collectively 
 expanded and broadened out, their knees and elbows 
 further assisting to diminish the unoccupied space 
 alongside of them. 
 
 Hippo plowed down the aisle, and not finding suffi-
 
 The Stoic Takes the Count 119 
 
 cient space to stow his bulk, gave vent to a snort of 
 irritation and turned back. 
 
 "Bet it'll be just my luck to have 'cutie' pick on 
 me, " thought Cliff, and sure enough, old Hippo spotted 
 him, noted his cool and comfortable appearance, in 
 marked contrast to the wilted and irritable demeanor 
 of the others, and with a grunt of relief settled into, or 
 rather overflowed, the vacant space alongside of Cliff, 
 compressing him to a condensed edition of his normal 
 self. 
 
 Cliff's temperature and temperament rose simulta- 
 neously. He resented the glances of commiseration 
 and the exasperating smiles directed towards him. 
 Growing more uncomfortable by the minute, he suffered 
 the grilling with Spartan stoicism, cursing the per- 
 verseness of fate. And then, after the train had rolled a 
 mile or so, came an inspiration. 
 
 Quietly he reached up to the open window, compres- 
 sed the patent catch, and allowed the window to slide 
 down and close. He was conscious of old Hippo's 
 sidelong glance of mixed wonder and resentment, but 
 sat quietly, gazing through the closed window at the 
 baked landscape, his best poker face to the fore. 
 
 Old Hippo emitted a couple of snorts, and glared 
 his displeasure. Cliff reached up for his straw hat, put 
 t on and sat down.
 
 120 Rummy niscences 
 
 Hippo, taking off his glasses, bestowed on Cliff 
 another look of irritation. Cliff sat imperturbable. 
 
 Just thirty seconds later Cliff rolled down his sleeves 
 and buttoned his cuff links. Hippo gave a double 
 snort and quivered perceptibly. Pulse 90. Tempera- 
 ture 100 plus. 
 
 And then, as the train rolled through a tunnel, 
 Cliff, his eyes contracted and gleaming a bit wickedly, 
 rose deliberately, reached for his coat, slipped into it, 
 and sank quietly into his seat again. 
 
 Old Hippo gasped and turned livid. Beads of 
 perspiration trickled down his fiery red bald pate and 
 gathered into streamlets that traced their way into the 
 wrinkles of his jowls and ponderous neck, and lost them- 
 selves in the nether regions. 
 
 Cliff buttoned up his coat. A minute later he 
 turned up his collar. This was too much for Hippo. 
 He squirmed into a posture that enabled him to face 
 Cliff, and exploded: 
 
 "For the love of Mike, young fellow! You're not 
 freezing, are you?" 
 
 "Oh, no sir!" replied Cliff innocently, "I'm only a 
 bit chilly." 
 
 "Chilly?" gasped Hippo, "Chilly? Good Lord, 
 I'd give a hundred dollars for a chill right now ! Chilly? 
 Can you beat it? Say! You, you, you're Phew!"
 
 The Stoic Takes the Count 
 
 (more snorts and more streamlets) "Chilly? Well, of 
 all the nuts ! Guess I'd rather sit among a lot of gabby, 
 powdered-up women, than with a lunatic, Phew!" 
 
 And with a succession of choking gasps and snorts 
 that threatened an apoplectic attack, Old Hippo rose 
 up in all his torrid bulk, glared at Cliff with an excess 
 of wrath that found no further expression in words, and 
 wallowed out of the smoking car, followed by many 
 looks of amusement, and not one of compassion or 
 regret. 
 
 Cliff however, still imperturbable and sphinx-like 
 lit a cigarette, rose quietly, re-deposited his hat in the 
 rack, divested himself of his coat, rolled up his sleeves, 
 and again opened the window. 
 
 III. 
 
 The personification of self-satisfaction, he serenely 
 puffed his cigarette and complacently mused upon the 
 density of ordinary, unsophisticated mortals. Where- 
 upon Fate, ironical and inexorable Fate, dealt him a 
 back-hand wallop. 
 
 At the very next station, a filthy and ill-smelling 
 flounder fisherman, as corpulent and sweat-reeking as 
 the departed Hippo himself, deposited his basketful 
 of odoriferous fish in the rack over Cliff's head and 
 squatted down beside him!
 
 122 Rummy niscences 
 
 Cliff's temperature and choler rose again. 
 
 His 
 
 equanimity and linen wilted simultaneously, as he 
 broke into perspiration and muttered profanity. Even 
 Cliff's vaunted self-control had its limitations. 
 
 And then, as the train hit a sharp curve and swerved 
 violently, the basket overhead was seized with a spasm, 
 rolled out of the rack, and showered its ill-smelling, 
 scaly and slimy assortment of flounders and torn-cods 
 over Cliff's head and shoulders, to the accompaniment 
 of a howl of delight from the other passengers. 
 
 "H 1!" roared Cliff, bounding up and into the 
 aisle. "Survival of the fittest, and superiority of mind 
 over matter, and all such truck, be d d ! I'm cured! "
 
 THE MISOGAMIST 
 
 Wherein is chronicled how Joe's studies in juvenile 
 psychology resulted in a complete transformation in his 
 personal appearance, his philosophy and his marital 
 views.
 
 The Misogamist. 
 
 I. 
 
 ^I^HE wild strains of a Hungarian rhapsody and the 
 animated contortions and final flourishes of the 
 swarthy director of the Gypsy Orchestra, stilled for a 
 moment the chatter of the diners. 
 
 Phoebe and "Kewpie," satiated with lobster salad 
 and Biscuit Tortoni, surveyed the cosmopolitan assem- 
 blage with critical feminine interest. 
 
 The Misogamist and the Duke sipped their cafe 
 noir, floated with brandy, and puffed at curiously 
 twisted black cheroots, supplied by the waiter in 
 response to the Duke's request for a couple of good 
 smokes. 
 
 They were regaling themselves thus after having 
 attended a seance of the Moonshine Club, the mecca of 
 
 radicals and theorists, who flocked from the lower East 
 
 125
 
 126 Rummy niscences 
 
 Side and Greenwich Village to this forum of all the 
 "isms," socialism, materialism, and every idealism, 
 expounded by all manner of optimists and pessimists. 
 
 The Shrimp, after attending one of these gatherings, 
 had expressed the opinion that this society should have 
 been named the Squirrel Club, because it manifested 
 such an interest in all kinds of "nuts." 
 
 To-night's discourse, "The Crucible of Matri- 
 mony, " had evoked much ardent discussion. 
 
 The Misogamist, in particular, held decided views 
 on this subject, which were not at all shared by the 
 Duke, in consequence of which they had become in- 
 volved in a quite heated post-mortem debate. 
 
 "Oh, of course, Duke! Of course!" declared the 
 Misog., after the applause that greeted the conclusion 
 of the rhapsody had subsided, " It stands to reason that 
 no sane person would ever dispute the fact that marriage 
 is an essential institution. It is the foundation of the 
 family and the community. Of society and civiliza- 
 tion too, for that matter. It's a necessary evil. Every 
 fool knows that from personal experience. I'm not 
 arguing against marriage from a sociological standpoint, 
 but only from an individual point of view. I'm really 
 for it, for others, but not for 'yours truly,' least- 
 wise not in this mad metropolis or in any other real 
 burg."
 
 The Misogamist 127 
 
 II. 
 
 It was not the first time that Joe Steeples had de- 
 clared himself on this subject. In fact, it was because 
 of his frequently avowed aversion to matrimony that 
 his cronies had dubbed him "the Misogamist." Upon 
 consulting his dictionary, he accepted this sobriquet 
 quite complacently, for he was of the type that nail 
 their colors to the mast. 
 
 He did, however, make this pronouncement: A 
 misogamist, or hater of marriage, he was unquali- 
 fiedly and self-avowedly, but a misogynist, or hater 
 of women, never! 
 
 A distinction with quite a difference, of 
 course. 
 
 While hardly a ladies' man, for his penchant was 
 more for club-life and the conviviality of male com- 
 panionship Joe was nevertheless rather popular with 
 the fair sex and enjoyed female society. 
 
 He was an excellent conversationalist and likewise 
 a good "kidder." His fund of stories and anecdotes 
 seemed inexhaustible, and his own hearty laugh at 
 their conclusion was irresistible. The girls liked his 
 dry humor and blunt wit, and overlooked his lack of 
 elegance and gallantry, his perennial black bow-tie, and 
 square-toed shoes. They rather liked his twinkling 
 eyes, his firm jaw, and his masculine, but rather comely
 
 128 Rummyniscenees 
 
 features. In short, they regarded him as a sort of 
 genial, likable cave-man. 
 
 Peggy O'Connell, familiarly known as "Kewpie," 
 who conducted a fashionable millinery establishment, 
 under the name of Mile. Eloise, averred that he was " a 
 dear old bear." 
 
 Phoebe Burr, a private secretary and bachelor girl, 
 prim and intellectual, whose apartment "Kewpie" 
 shared, agreed that Joe was rather attractive though 
 somewhat uncouth. 
 
 If Joe was popular with the ladies he was doubly 
 so with the men. He was, as Bud Barrows once ex- 
 pressed it, more than a "fifty-fifty guy," rather a 
 "seventy -five twenty -five" sort, who more than 
 held up his end and was liberal to a fault. 
 
 Blessed with an oversized heart, he loved everything 
 and everybody, from measly pups to glacial grandeur, 
 likewise his modicum of liquor. 
 
 Possibly you may wonder how so genial and warm- 
 hearted an individual could hold such narrow views on 
 the subject of matrimony. The fact remains however 
 that Joe refused to consider women seriously. To him 
 they were but a diversion of the moment. 
 
 III. 
 
 But to return to the controversy over the "crucible 
 of matrimony."
 
 The Misogamist 129 
 
 "Mais,mon chre! "pro tested Kewpie to Joe, pouting 
 archly, "I think you're just terrible! Men must marry 
 and become husbands, or else who will buy my 
 pretty creations for madame and her charming 
 daughters?" 
 
 "There you go! That's the woman of it!" laughed 
 the Misog. triumphantly. "Marriage to the average 
 woman means little more than a meal ticket and a 
 charge account. It's in the air in this extravagant, 
 cabaret-mad community of apartment cliff-dwellers. 
 
 "No real home-life! No family ideals! Out to 
 dine, out to the theatre, out in the motor, out to the 
 country club! Out, always out. Shows, dinners* 
 dances, wine, taxis and expensive finery. A week's 
 salary blown in a night. Then home with the milk 
 wagons to the big brick bee-hive, with the elegant, 
 commodious entrance hall, and the stuffy, cramped 
 apartments, with their grasping landlords, autocratic 
 janitors, insolent domestics, distracting phonographs, 
 chattering parrots, yipping lap-dogs, and a veritable 
 succession of petty annoyances. No rest, no comfort; 
 continuous bickering and continuous quarreling. 
 
 "And then, the temptations by which an up-to-date 
 wife is beset! The Paris gowns, the wonderful milli- 
 nery, the luxurious furs! And the catty references of 
 the ladies to the mythical earnings of their spouses.
 
 130 Rummy niscences 
 
 Foolish chatter about the opera, autos, gowns and a 
 thousand extravagances. 
 
 " And poor Tom, too, has to keep up his end. Opens 
 up wine at the club, gets hooked in a poker game, and 
 comes home well-skished, broke and in hock for a 
 month's salary, only to find a new batch of bills await- 
 ing him on his dresser. 
 
 "Married life in such an atmosphere! Give me the 
 care-free, untrammelled existence of the bachelor. It 
 may be selfish, but it's less conducive to gray hair, 
 baldness and nervous prostration," concluded the 
 Misog., grinning complacently. 
 
 "Rot!" answered the Duke tersely. "That's only 
 one phase of New York life. It depends entirely on the 
 individuals themselves. Plenty of real home-life in 
 this town! The people you cite are in the minority. 
 Not all people live in stuffy apartments, and many that 
 do are happy and maintain real homes in them. " 
 
 "Of course," remarked Phoebe, with an amused 
 smile, "We all know Joe's prejudices on the subject. 
 Nevertheless, there is much truth in his argument. 
 Married life in a big city is beset with pitfalls. How- 
 ever, Joe seems to quite overlook the feminine phase 
 of the question. How about the faithful, patient, 
 home-loving wife, who sits up nights alone, while her 
 husband debauches and squanders his income? How
 
 The Misogamist 131 
 
 about the brutal, inconsiderate and perfidious hus- 
 bands? Women do not all seek or welcome marriage. 
 Girls who have mastered paying vocations prefer their 
 independence; at least, many of them do. Fortu- 
 nately, I'm quite able to support myself, and, realizing 
 the extent of the gamble, I too, prefer single blessed- 
 ness." 
 
 "That's right! Side with the old Misogamist, 
 Phoebe," growled the Duke. "First thing you know 
 we'll dub you 'the Misoga Miss.' You're a fine team, 
 you two, and are only fooling yourselves. When Miss 
 Right comes along, Joe, you'll fall just like the rest, 
 only twice as hard. " 
 
 "Well," retorted Joe, "Miss Right, if she exists at 
 all, is certainly not a New York girl, not the pre- 
 vailing type at any rate. I've seen too many of my 
 friends marry and haven't failed to observe how seldom 
 it 'takes' in this town. And take it from me, if ever I 
 do fall, it will be for some small town girl or simple 
 country lass. 
 
 Kewpie laughed. "I think you're quite funny 
 Joe! You'll marry allright, and you won't have as 
 much to say about it as you think, either. 
 
 "Let me have your hand. I know something of 
 palmistry. Let's see what the lines show. Come on, 
 Joe, be a good sport. "
 
 132 Rummy niscences 
 
 "Well, go to it!" yielded Joe. "I'll be the goat! 
 Do your worst!" 
 
 " I see success, success and a lot of money. 
 You'll be rich, very rich, " proceeded Kewpie with well 
 mimicked gravity, tracing the lines of Joe's generous 
 palm with her well manicured index finger. 
 
 "Thanks!" grunted Joe, "I suppose I'll frisk a bank 
 or promote a mine, or something." 
 
 "This line denotes humor, this smaller one conceit, 
 and this one determination. However, it is crossed at the 
 top by this linedenotingweakness, "continued the seeress. 
 
 "Marvellous!" commented Joe. 
 
 "Ah! There is a woman. A petite blonde." 
 Kewpie feigned intense interest, then released Joe's 
 hand and leaned back in her chair smiling grimly and 
 triumphantly. 
 
 "Well, shoot it!" commanded Joe, "I'm game. 
 Finish your act." 
 
 "Well, Joe," concluded Kewpie, "You're going to 
 marry allright. But not yet, and not soon either. Not 
 for many, many years. Not till you reach the age of 
 senility. 
 
 "Then, when you are in your dotage, you'll marry a 
 little doll of a chorus girl who'll lead you by the nose, 
 wheedle you out of your money, and eventually run 
 off with her real fair-haired boy, who'll help her spend
 
 The Misogamist 133 
 
 it. Sorry, old top, but that's what's in store for you, 
 unless you come to your senses and win yourself a nice 
 little wife before it's too late." 
 
 "Ho, Ho! Great!" roared the Duke. 
 
 "Ho, Ho! Trash!" growled the Misog. 
 
 "You're terrible, Peggy!" laughed Phoebe, "I'll 
 certainly never let you read my palm. " 
 
 "Well, now that that's over," announced the 
 Misog., smiling good-naturedly, "Let's finish this red 
 ink and call it a night. Pretty late for little girls to be 
 out, particularly in the company of such a gay Lothario 
 as the Duke." 
 
 Whereupon they summoned a taxi and drove the 
 girls home, the Duke and Joe, however, stopping at the 
 club fora "wee doch-an-doroch " with the usual result, 
 and the consequent loss of much sleep. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The following day a bright Spring Sunday morning, 
 Joe lay comfortably sprawled out in a hammock on the 
 verandah of the suburban home of his widowed sister, 
 with whom he lived, smoking his calabash and meditat- 
 ling over the controversy of the night before. 
 
 "Kewpie is just a giddy moth, a perfectly nice, 
 ikable girl, very pretty and vivacious, and all that, 
 but not reallv intellectual or interesting. " he solilo-
 
 134 Rummy niscences 
 
 quized. "Phoebe, however, is a really clever and in- 
 tellectual little woman, a sensible and attractive girl, 
 with lots of poise and tact. She's got the right idea. 
 Funny how well she and Kewpie hit it off together. 
 They are just opposite types. " 
 
 His reverie was interrupted by Bobby, his twelve 
 year old nephew, of whom he was very fond and proud 
 and who in turn idolized his Uncle Joe. 
 
 Bobby was all fussed up about the ball team he and 
 his playmates had just organized " I'm catcher an* 
 I'm captain" he informed Joe "An' we've got a 
 dandy nine, an' a catcher's mask an' gloves n* every- 
 thing an' Skinny Rogers is pitcher an' can pitch, a 
 dandy curve, an' we're going to play the Maplewood 
 Avenue nine next Saturday for a silk flag that Red 
 Muller, who's pitcher of their team, got his father to 
 put up for a prize. " 
 
 "Well, you'll certainly have to win that game, 
 Bobby," said the Misog. "My friend, Mr. Barlow, 
 who lives on Maplewood Avenue, will crow over me a 
 lot if that bunch beats your outfit. " 
 
 "Dunno!" said Bobby, "They're a reg'lar team." 
 
 "What!" said the Misog. "You're not afraid of 
 them, Bobby, with you catching and Skinny's dandy 
 curve how's your infield and your outfield?" 
 
 "Oh, we've got a dandy team all right we've got
 
 The Misogamist 135 
 
 the best players; their pitcher can't pitch a curve like 
 Skinny can." 
 
 "Well, then you ought to beat them, oughtn't 
 you? " queried Joe. " Dunno, " replied Bobby dubious- 
 ly "we've got a better team, but they've got suits 
 they're a reg'lar nine. " 
 
 "But you can play better ball and have a better 
 battery, haven't you what have the suits got to do 
 with it?" argued the Misog. 
 
 "Sure, Uncle Joe," answered Bobby "we've got 
 better players,but they've got suits. They're a real nine. ' ' 
 
 "You mean to say that an inferior team that's uni- 
 formed can beat a better team that has no uniforms? 
 How do you make that out?" objected Joe. 
 
 "Dunno," sulked Bobby, "but they can." 
 
 Joe pondered for a moment over this psychological 
 revelation. 
 
 "Bobby," he demanded presently "if your team 
 had suits, regular honest to God baseball suits, could 
 you beat the Maple wood team?" 
 
 "Sure thing, Uncle Joe!" responded Bobby enthu- 
 siastically " We'd lick the life out o' them Skinny 's 
 a better pitcher than Red; an' our whole team's better. 
 I can catch better than Lefty Taylor, too, an' I can 
 throw to second, an' he can't. Sure, we'd lick 'em, 
 if we ever got suits. "
 
 136 Rummyniscences 
 
 Joe smoked for a moment in silence. Science de- 
 manded that this psychological phenomenon be veri- 
 fied or refuted. Besides it was up to him to maintain 
 his nephew's prestige among his playmates. 
 
 "Ask your mother to let you ride to town with 
 me tomorrow, Bobby. Don't let her refuse you and 
 maybe we'll come back with suits for your nine," he 
 suggested. 
 
 "Gee! Uncle Joe, I'll be back in a minute! Gee! 
 Reg'lar suits, Gee!" and Bobby scurried off, wildly 
 excited, as fast as his legs could propel him. 
 
 And on the following Saturday the Laureltons won 
 the game, and Joe, who was among the onlookers, 
 came away convinced that the new and natty suits had 
 contributed more than any other factor to the victory 
 of Bobby's team. 
 
 Every boy on the Laurelton team seemed to be 
 spurred to play his very best by a desire to justify the 
 favorable impression created by their appearance as 
 they marched onto the field. Their opponents were 
 certainly awed and somewhat disconcerted, and the 
 umpire, a member of the High School team was 
 also palpably impressed, as evidenced by a leaning in 
 several of his decisions, in favor of this " reg'lar nine, " 
 for while the Maplewood team was also uniformed, 
 their togs consisted of a motley assortment of varie-
 
 The Misogamist 137 
 
 gated suits, much the worse for wear, most of them 
 handed down by big brothers who had discarded them. 
 
 Yes, unquestionably the suits had won the day, 
 decided Joe, as he mentally reviewed the game, and 
 he pondered deeply over this trivial yet convincing 
 demonstration of the efficacy and value of maintain- 
 ing appearances, or, in sporting parlance, of "putting 
 up a good front." 
 
 Nor was the impression made on him by this inci- 
 dent merely a passing one. He began to note that the 
 most prosperous and successful among his acquain- 
 tances certainly looked the part, and he began to wonder 
 how much their outward appearance of prosperity had 
 contributed to bring about the reality. 
 
 And his conclusions were gradually accompanied by 
 an astounding metamorphosis in his own personal 
 appearance and apparel. 
 
 Off came the square-toed shoes, to be replaced by 
 more stylish footgear; the black bow-tie was discarded 
 for up-to-date scarfs, set off with a neat stick-pin; 
 tailored suits of up-to-date patterns supplanted the 
 sombre ready-made clothes he had worn heretofore. 
 
 And one Sunday he amazed his friends by appearing 
 at the club wearing a natty pearl gray fedora, a carna- 
 tion in the lapel of his coat, and jauntily swinging a 
 stick, a veritable Beau Brummel, in fact.
 
 138 Rummy niscences 
 
 "Pipe the regalia on the Misog.," whispered the 
 Shrimp. "Nothing to it! There's a skirt back of it 
 all. The old Misog. has been bitten at last!" 
 
 But when, over their high-balls, at this session of 
 the Sunday morning Bible Class, they twitted him 
 about his transformation and accused him of back- 
 sliding from his misogamistic tenets, he smilingly and 
 placidly disavowed any such occurrence, without en- 
 lightening them further, leaving them, as usual, com- 
 pletely mystified over his idiosyncrasies. 
 
 He noted too, with keen amusement, that he was 
 becoming the recipient of much attention and even 
 deference, all of which seemed to justify his recent and 
 somewhat belated recognition of the value of making a 
 good appearance. 
 
 V. 
 
 It was shortly after this that his conclusions as to 
 the result of that kid ball game, were even more sub- 
 stantially confirmed and justified. 
 
 Van Brunt, the president of his company, with 
 'whom, through long association, he was on intimate 
 terms, invited him to luncheon. He had grown up 
 with the company and worked assiduously and faith- 
 fully, acquiring an intimate knowledge of every depart- 
 ment and phase of the business. Officially he was the
 
 The Misogamist 139 
 
 manager of the Credit Department, but actually he 
 was consulted and identified more or less with the ad- 
 ministration of all the departments. 
 
 "Joe," announced Van Brunt presently, as they 
 lunched at their trade club, "I'm delighted to inform 
 you that at the annual meeting of the company yester- 
 day afternoon, you were elected not only as a director 
 but also to the office of Vice President and General 
 Manager. Congratulations, Mr. Vice President; we 
 all feel that the company is equally to be congrat- 
 ulated. " 
 
 After Joe had recovered from his first surprise and 
 had duly expressed his thanks, Van Brunt discussed 
 with him some of the more pertinent matters that 
 would require his attention and administration. Pres- 
 ently Joe ventured to inquire as to what disposal the 
 company would make of his predecessor. 
 
 "Oh, Boulton," replied Van Brunt, "why Boulton 
 has tendered his resignation. He is going into another 
 line. Wasn't exactly a success, as you no doubt are 
 aware. He was somewhat of an experiment, rather a 
 costly one. We should have selected you* at the time 
 we selected him but er !" 
 
 "But what?" quietly demanded Joe. 
 
 "Well, Joe," replied Van Brunt, "at that time, 
 while you were really far better qualified than any
 
 140 Rummyniscences 
 
 other man in our organization, you, er you, well, the 
 fact is, you didn't measure up to appearances, er, 
 looked kind of clerky, you'll pardon me, but I'm 
 trying to justify our failure to select you in the first 
 place, and, er 
 
 "I understand perfectly," answered Joe quietly, 
 " and you were quite right in eliminating me under 
 the circumstances." 
 
 After their return to the office, Joe, at his desk, 
 pondered exultingly. "That purchase of those kids' 
 ball-suits, thanks to Bobby's claims as to their potency, 
 has turned out to be the best little investment I ever 
 made," he soliloquized. "And take it from me," he 
 added, "henceforth I'm an absolute believer in the 
 value of first impressions and appearances. " 
 
 VI. 
 
 Van Brunt had suggested, and in fact insisted that 
 Joe take an extended vacation before assuming the 
 arduous duties of his new office and so Joe decided to 
 run down to Atlantic City on the following Saturday 
 for a two weeks' sojourn. 
 
 It so happened that Phoebe had arranged to sail for 
 Bermuda on that same Saturday. 
 
 As the second officer of the Prince George, the steam- 
 ship on which Phoebe had booked her passage, hap-
 
 The Misogamist 141 
 
 pened to be a close friend of Joe's whom he had not 
 seen for years, he proposed to call for her in a taxi, take 
 her and her luggage to the ship and at the same time 
 surprise his old friend the second officer. His own 
 plan was to proceed immediately thereafter to Atlantic 
 City. 
 
 On arriving at the pier they clambered up the gang- 
 plank, and Joe, after escorting Phoebe to her state- 
 room, wished her a pleasant journey and sought out 
 Jack Connors, the second officer. 
 
 Connors was overjoyed to see Joe again, and at once 
 led him to his cabin, where he produced a bottle of 
 Scotch and a box of cigars, over which they rehearsed 
 their college escapades and exchanged subsequent 
 experiences, making generous inroads on the Scotch 
 as they talked. Presently Joe, consulting his watch, 
 announced that it was getting to be time for him to 
 leave. 
 
 "Listen Joe, " suggested Connors, "why leave at all. 
 You're going on a vacation anyhow. Why not stay 
 aboard? I'd be tickled to death to have you make the 
 trip and share my stateroom. A trip to Bermuda has 
 it on Atlantic City a thousand ways. Nothing like a sea 
 voyage for a complete rest. It wont cost you a red cent 
 for the trip and 
 
 " Nothing doing, thank you ! Can't be done. I've
 
 142 Rummyniscences 
 
 already bought my tickets for Atlantic City and made 
 my reservation at the hotel, " protested Joe. 
 
 "Oh, bother the transportation!" urged Connors. 
 "I can have one of our clerks on the pier redeem it, and 
 a telegram will cancel your hotel reservation. Your 
 luggage is in the taxi and I can have it aboard in a jiffy. 
 Come on! You'll enjoy the trip immensely and be 
 better off with me in every way, than you would at 
 Atlantic City." 
 
 " What'll my friend, Miss Burr, say?" protested Joe, 
 wavering. "I'd better consult her. You see it might 
 not look right 
 
 "Nonsense!" laughed Connors, "and besides there 
 isn't time. We'll surprise her and make her trip all the 
 more pleasant. I'll arrange to have her seated at my 
 table, in place of that long faced Baptist minister that 
 they wished on me. Never could drink comfortably 
 in the presence of the cloth! Come along! Just got 
 ten minutes to get your luggage aboard and send that 
 telegram. Say Yes! 'Atta boy!" and Connors' 
 effusiveness and his enthusiasm, aided and abetted by 
 the seductiveness of the Scotch, carried the day. 
 
 VII. 
 
 At dinner, and well out to sea, Phoebe got the sur- 
 prise of her life when Joe seated himself beside her, as
 
 The Misogamist 143 
 
 likewise did Joe and Connors, for Phoebe flashed a look 
 of indignation and intense anger at Joe and swept from 
 the table. Joe followed her to her stateroom, only to 
 be upbraided roundly. 
 
 "Oh, don't try to explain," she cried, bursting into 
 tears. " You don't understand. You're just an incon- 
 siderate, scatterbrained fool of a man. Can't you see 
 what a fine lot of talk and scandal you have bred? 
 
 " For you it's merely a lark. Men, and particularly 
 bachelors are never seriously criticized. But for me it 
 is ruination. Can't you see the folly of it? You and I 
 on the same boat, unchaperoned ! I'll never forgive 
 you and I don't want to see anything of you on this 
 entire trip, or ever afterward either. Oh, I'll never be 
 able to face my friends! Oh, how could you, Joe!" 
 and Phoebe threw herself on her bunk and burst into a 
 fresh paroxysm of tears, whereupon Joe, thoroughly 
 disconcerted, departed, roundly cursing himself and 
 Connors. He sought a secluded corner of the upper 
 deck to take counsel with himself. 
 
 "A fine 'how d'ye do' and a nice vacation, you 
 blamed ass!" he muttered. "How'll I ever square 
 things with Phoebe? Spoiled her whole trip, like the 
 blooming idiot that I am!" 
 
 He cogitated deeply for a while. Finally he arose, 
 gazed intently at the radiant, sunset-streaked horizon,
 
 144 Rummyniscences 
 
 and murmured decisively: "I'll do it! It's up to me to 
 square this mess and it's the only way. I'll put it up 
 to her anyhow, and if she can see it, I'm game, and by 
 God, I hope she is too! I believe in living up to ap- 
 pearances, and appearances certainly point that way. " 
 
 And so it happened that on the next day the Duke 
 nearly collapsed and the others stared in open-eyed 
 wonder, when the Duke opened and read aloud the 
 following wireless telegram : 
 
 ON BOARD S. S. PRINCE GEORGE. GREET- 
 INGS. ON OUR HONEY-MOON. KINDEST RE- 
 GARDS TO YOU AND THE BUNCH. FROM 
 
 JOE AND PHOEBE. 
 
 "And they both posed as marriage haters, the rank 
 frauds!" gasped the Shrimp, "And they certainly 
 appeared to be, too! I'll never take any stock in ap- 
 pearances again!" 
 
 And yet Joe believed in them implicitly, and both 
 were right, so there you are !
 
 THE TALE OF THE PATCH 
 
 Setting forth how Buck and the Shrimp took 
 their "hang-overs" out for an airing, and how Buck 
 became possessed of the patch and his discomfiture 
 thereat.
 
 The Tale of the Patch. 
 
 I. 
 
 TICK dug into his jeans to pay for the last round of 
 drinks, fished out a roll of bills together with a rec- 
 tangular, nondescript patch of cloth, gazed at the latter 
 a moment in bewilderment, and then, with a look of 
 disgust, dropped the patch into a cuspidor, whereat 
 the Shrimp shrieked his delight and danced about in 
 glee, the while the bunch gazed inquiringly. 
 
 All of which calls for further elucidation, and the 
 recital of the episode of Buck and the patch. 
 
 Early in the day, or rather late that morning, Buck 
 bh'nking somewhat resentfully at the bright sunlight, 
 paused, as he stepped from his domicile, to inhale 
 with evident relish, lung-fulls of the clear, invigorating 
 morning air. 
 
 The match which he lighted on the stone coping 
 
 147
 
 148 Rummy niscences 
 
 paused uncertainly in its ascent towards the cigar which 
 was poised somewhat gingerly between Buck's lips. 
 An obliging and possibly discerning zephyr caused it 
 to flicker out. Whereupon Buck's teeth refused to 
 clip the end of the cigar, the charred match sailed to- 
 ward the gutter, and the cigar narrowly escaped the 
 same fate; however, on second thought, it was returned 
 to its original repository in Buck's vest pocket. 
 "Damn," commented Buck tersely. Decidedly, he 
 was feeling a bit rocky. 
 
 II. 
 
 A taxi pulled up at the curb and out hopped the 
 Shrimp, spick and span, as irrepressible and loquacious 
 as usual. 
 
 " 'Lo, Buck ! Figured you'd just about be coming 
 to life. So I grabbed this boat and rolled down. Great 
 morning! How's the boy? I'm feeling fine as silk, 
 great!" 
 
 "You are, like , and neither am I," growled 
 
 Buck. "And take it from me, you pestiferous bar-fly, 
 I'm off all liquor and strong for fresh air oceans of 
 it and the simple life and the quiet stuff, so " 
 
 "All right!" interrupted the Shrimp, "I'm with 
 you! Let's hop into my chariot and drive wherever 
 Your Churlishness may command!"
 
 The Tale of the Patch 149 
 
 "Well, where to?" asked the Shrimp, as they seated 
 themselves in the open taxi. 
 
 "Don't care!" muttered Buck a little more amiably, 
 "But no liquoring up, and that goes!" 
 
 "All right, let's go," laughed the Shrimp. "Steer 
 your own course, chauffeur. Let her roll!" 
 
 By the time they reached the Concourse and were 
 rolling north on its wide and breezy expanse, Buck had 
 quite recuperated from the previous night's orgy. He 
 lit his cigar, and vouchsafed an occasional reply to the 
 Shrimp's incessant chatter. 
 
 "Let's stop at Bronx Park and look over the ani- 
 mals," Buck suggested presently. 
 
 Time out, while we remind you that Buck 
 is a big game hunter and a woodsman of some 
 note. 
 
 "Animals!" laughed the Shrimp, "I saw them all 
 last night, pink elephants, blue crocodiles, emerald 
 snakes, and the whole blooming menagerie!" 
 
 "Umph" sneered Buck. "Beasts, you mean. 
 Disreputable bipeds, rumhounds, bar leeches, human 
 vipers and vampires, ugh! No more of that tribe for 
 me. I referred to the noble stag, the graceful antelope, 
 
 the powerful grizzly, the , Aw! Grin your fool 
 
 head off! You prosaic product of the metropolis of 
 sky-scrapers!"
 
 150 Rummy niscences 
 
 III. 
 
 They dismissed the chauffeur at the gate, and 
 strolled about the zoological gardens, until their peram- 
 bulations brought them to the shore of a pond, where 
 they stopped to watch a cluster of urchins who were 
 trying unsuccessfully to hook goldfish with improvised 
 tackle consisting of strings, bent pins and gobs of chew- 
 ing gum for bait. 
 
 Their antics and shrill comments afforded Buck 
 much amusement. 
 
 "Gee, Shrimp!" he laughed, "Those kids get more 
 fun out of nothing than we could out of a hundred 
 dollar bill. Makes me feel like a youngster again, just 
 to watch them. Fills me with vim and pep. " 
 
 And Buck stretched himself to his full six foot one, 
 flexed his biceps, and inhaled a chestful of bracing 
 ozone. 
 
 "Bet I'd ketch one if I could see 'em!" vouchsafed 
 one little optimist, on his hands and knees, peering into 
 the water. 
 
 "Well, have a good look, Kiddo!" laughed Buck, 
 and reaching down, he grabbed the youngster by the 
 slack of his loose fitting pants, evidently paternal 
 hand-me-downs, and held him out at arm's length 
 over the water. 
 
 There followed a shriek and a tremendous splash,
 
 The Tale of the Patch 151 
 
 and a violent commotion in the heretofore placid waters, 
 as the frightened youngster wallowed about in an en- 
 deavor to gain his feet. Buck stood stupefied, his arm 
 still extended, clutching a patch of cloth that had erst- 
 while served as the seat of the affrighted youngster's 
 knickerbockers. 
 
 The scandalized goldfish scattered in disgust; the 
 youngster's playmates jumped about and howled a 
 concert of glee at the unlocked for spectacle; and 
 Buck still stood petrified. 
 
 "Y-ye big stiff!" blubbered and sputtered the 
 youngster, who had managed to crawl out. "I didn't 
 do nothin' to you! Hey fellers, git a cop, git a cop! 
 Look wot he done to me pants! Me mudder'll lick me 
 good. Ow wow! Git fresh wid a feller yer size, ye 
 big stiff! Ow, I'm soakin' wet an' me pants is busted! 
 Git a cop, fellers. Git a cop!" and the tough little 
 product of the East Side, in his rage, heaved a stone at 
 Buck that almost found its mark. 
 
 "Wow!" gasped Buck, recovering from his surprise. 
 
 *'D n the brat! He's worse than a screech owl 
 
 Shut up, you little fool!" 
 
 "Slip him a dollar or two, Buck," suggested the 
 Shrimp, ' 'and tell him to get his mother to buy him a 
 new pair." 
 
 Buck pulled out his roll, peeled off a two dollar bill
 
 152 Rummy niscences 
 
 and handed it to the militant urchin, whose howls and 
 threats instantly subsided as he grabbed the bill. 
 
 Up the path, leading from the pond, he sped, his 
 right hand clutching the bill, his left clapped over and 
 f utilely endeavoring to conceal that part of his anatomy 
 heretofore covered by the patch, while his play- 
 mates scrambled after him, emitting a series of shouts 
 and shrieks, consisting mainly of "Addy you! Divvy, 
 divvy up! Bonney on you Red!" 
 
 And Buck, emitting a sigh of relief and still clutch- 
 ing the patch, thrust it absent-mindedly into his pocket 
 together with his money, where it reposed innocently 
 until, as we have already related, it inopportunely came 
 to light again.
 
 APRIL SHOWERS! 
 
 Which is not a meteorological discourse, but a 
 recital of Dame Fortune's fickle treatment of "The 
 Revere Sisters."
 
 April Showers! 
 
 I. 
 
 LEVEN o'clock ! The kaleidoscopic electric 
 
 signs seemed to flare more brilliantly. Ubiquitous 
 taxis honked and scurried hither and thither. Stately 
 limousines rolled through the tortuous maze. Chat- 
 tering streams of humanity poured from the portals 
 of the theatres and filtered into their favorite haunts 
 
 seeking further diversion. For the Great White 
 
 Way was blooming into mirth and revelry, and the 
 night was young! 
 
 At a sequestered table in one of the flashy restau- 
 rants just off Broadway, sipping their highballs with 
 the ennui characteristic of the regular frequenters of 
 the roofs and cabarets, sat Tip Wheeler and Buck 
 Barrows, languidly observing the arriving guests as 
 they drifted in and distributed themselves at the now 
 rapidly-filling tables. 
 
 155
 
 156 Rummy niscences 
 
 The jazz orchestra, which, up to the present had 
 strummed listlessly, now burst into a fanfare of riotous 
 harmony. Nimble fingers tore at banjo and ukelele 
 strings, leather lungs tortured cornet and saxophone, 
 and the arch-distractor, the drummer, alternated in 
 frantic ecstasy between snare and kettle-drums, cym- 
 bals and triangles, cowbells and a variety of other 
 clanking, noisy contrivances. 
 
 And then, from the wings, there burst forth 
 onto the stage, two gyrating, whirling dancers, two 
 scantily-clad, ravishing, fluffy -haired dolls, who circled 
 about the stage and each other, with airy grace, in a 
 maze of fantastic convolutions and acrobatic contor- 
 tions. 
 
 Conversation lulled. Vivacious sirens and their 
 faultlessly tailored Romeos craned their necks in rap- 
 turous admiration. Lavishly gowned dowagers stared 
 haughtily while their corpulent escorts adjusted their 
 glasses and peered at the performers in discreetly silent 
 approval. The act terminated amid thunderous ap- 
 plause. 
 
 "Peaches! Some little kickers! Wonder if we 
 couldn't meet them ! The little blonde smiled right at 
 me," raved a sallow fashion-plate of the lounge-lizard 
 variety. 
 
 "I'll stake the head-waiter to slip them a note if
 
 April Showers! 157 
 
 you're game. They sure are two swell Janes!" rejoined 
 his equally enthusiastic companion. 
 
 Tip glared at them contemptuously. 
 
 "Snappy act," commented Buck tersely. 
 
 He picked up the menu, ran his finger down the 
 program printed on its reverse side and for Tip's edifi- 
 cation announced 
 
 "THE REVERE SISTERS" 
 Terpsichorean Sylphs. 
 
 "Uh, huh!" drawled Tip, "Know all about 'em! 
 Friends of mine. That's why I steered you here. 
 We're going to meet them and take them for a little 
 ride. So drink up! They'll be ready and waiting for 
 us in a few minutes. What d'ye say?" 
 
 "Ah!" rejoined Buck, "I surmised that you'd dig 
 up a couple of skirts when you hired that limousine. 
 So that's why you're spreading yourself. Well, they 
 look good to me! What's the program?" 
 
 "Nothing but a nice little ride and a few drinks and 
 dances and all that sort of thing," answered Tip. "A 
 late supper at one of the road-houses and then we'll 
 shoot them home again. Perfectly nice, lovable girls 
 mind you! So don't make any cracks !" 
 
 "Don't quite get you!" replied Buck skeptically. 
 
 "Well, you will, after you meet them and know 
 them," proceeded Tip. "This, by way of diversion,
 
 158 Rummyniscences 
 
 is going to be a respectable little party. You con- 
 fided to me at the club, that you were tired of lapping 
 up liquor; weary of sitting around and listening to 
 ribald stories and witticisms; surfeited with all its 
 sameness, cheap glamor and shallowness. You felt 
 guilty about it. Remarked that the time and money 
 thus wasted could be put to better use, making 
 others happy who might need a little cheer and comfort. 
 I felt the same way. So after dinner I phoned and 
 arranged this little party. That's why you and I are 
 going to play the Good Samaritans for a one-night 
 stand at any rate. Well, I guess the girls are ready 
 and waiting for us. Come along!" 
 
 II. 
 
 So they checked out. That is to say, they surren- 
 dered their hat-checks and likewise "two bits" each to 
 the alluring coat-room girls who had relieved them of 
 their straw-hats on their entrance into the gilded maws 
 of this rapacious establishment. Having redeemed 
 their headgear they were passed on to the gaudily- 
 liveried door-man, who with unctuous servility ushered 
 them into their car and then as soon as his yearning 
 palm closed on his duly forthcoming but "unearned 
 increment," promptly switched his fawning smile to 
 his next prospective victims.
 
 April Showers! 159 
 
 Tip directed the chauffeur to stop just around the 
 corner. 
 
 "There they are," he remarked, hopping out. 
 
 He entered a Subway kiosk and held a brief conver- 
 sation with two shadowy figures, vaguely discernible 
 through the translucent glass sides. Presently they 
 emerged and were ushered into the limousine. 
 
 Buck figuratively rubbed his eyes and pinched him- 
 self. In the dim light shed by the sparsely illuminated 
 Subway entrance, he discerned two slender girls, 
 modestly attired in plain dark serge dresses, topped 
 with tawdry neck-pieces of "cat pelt" ermine, their 
 hair severely gathered under simple little toque hats. 
 
 "The Revere sisters!" gasped Buck inaudibly, 
 "Impossible!" Tip was stringing him! 
 
 Introductions followed. "Buck," announced Tip, 
 " I'd like you to meet my very good friends, Mrs. White 
 and Miss White her daughter. Ladies, permit me 
 to make you acquainted with my old side-kick Mr. 
 Barrows, Buck for short. Flo and Winnie are 
 'good fellows,' Buck. So let's cut the frills right at 
 the start. Flo and Winnie, Buck and Tip no social 
 prefixes. And now, I guess, we're all set!" 
 
 "Oh Tipsy, old dear!" laughed Flo melodiously. 
 "You are so delightfully informal. Tip always makes 
 one feel so at ease, Mr. er Buck!" she amended
 
 160 Rummy niscences 
 
 as Tip shook his finger at her with an admonishing 
 srnile. 
 
 Buck glanced at little Winnie. She was gazing at 
 Tip with a look of positive worship. " Oh yes, " draw- 
 led Buck, "Tip's a good sort and a good pal. Not 
 quite one hundred percent of course but sort of a demi- 
 God I'll admit, particularly 
 
 " Cut that stuff and let's talk sense, " interposed Tip. 
 "Now Flo, tell me how you've been. How's the world 
 using you? How are things going? Stage-door John- 
 nies pestering you as much as usual? Never mind old 
 Buck! He's a good listener and never talks much 
 unless he's liquored up. He'll be talking your ears off 
 after we make a few stops. Don't mind old Buck, he's 
 a brick. " 
 
 Gradually, as they reclined comfortably in the 
 luxuriously cushioned seats of the limousine, Tip drew 
 out of Flo a recital of her trials and tribulations. Buck, 
 who sat facing them, regarded them quizzically and 
 listened in silent sympathy while demure little Winnie 
 nestled contentedly in the encircling arm of her self- 
 styled and to her, wonderful "big brother." 
 
 Things were not going well with the Revere Sisters. 
 Flo unfolded a rather pitiful tale a tale of the heart- 
 lessness and greed of brutal managers and grasping 
 booking agents, and of the wiles and snares that en-
 
 April Showers! 161 
 
 compassed them. Their act was on the wane. Al- 
 ready they were performing in mediocre establishments. 
 Soon they would have to "show" in third-rate houses 
 at half their present salary. And after that what? 
 Cheap vaudeville and coarse burlesque, road compa- 
 nies, small towns, and a gypsy life, with all its hard- 
 ships and precariousness. This they faced, unless 
 they could devise and stage a new and novel act. That, 
 however, meant an expensive outlay for new costumes 
 and stage trappings, and hours upon hours of weary 
 rehearsal that they could not afford to devote the time 
 to, for they just had to keep going in order to live and 
 make both ends meet. 
 
 And then too, there was the monthly sum that Flo 
 sent her destitute mother in England. Moreover, there 
 was her shiftless, drunken husband, whom Flo had for- 
 saken many years ago, taking Winnie with her and 
 whose persistent mulcting still further depleted their 
 scant income. In addition to their financial troubles 
 it transpired that they were frequently subjected to 
 indignities by designing and often coarse admirers, 
 acquaintances forced on them by servile managers or 
 obsequious proprietors who were importuned for intro- 
 ductions, and who could not be offended. 
 
 Buck sat and listened in silent indignation. He 
 studied Flo and Winnie sympathetically. His thoughts
 
 162 Rummyniscences 
 
 reverted to the scene he had witnessed at the cabaret 
 only an hour ago. The dashing, scintillating, winsome 
 Revere sisters! Whirling and gyrating, happy mad- 
 cap dancers! There they sat. A lovable, simply 
 attired pretty mother and her charming modest daugh- 
 ter. Winnie, eighteen, and Flo well, perhaps close 
 to forty, mother and daughter, gambolling through 
 a sister act, maintaining a pathetic farce on and off the 
 stage, exposed to all the wiles and indignities that beset 
 the cabaret-performer's existence. 
 
 Mother and daughter! Revelling between and after 
 performances with favored guests, subjected to ad- 
 vances, liberties, insults. Eager to doff their won- 
 derful stage raiment for their modest street clothes, to 
 return weary and disheartened to their shabby lodg- 
 ings. 
 
 "But it will all come out all right, some day and 
 some how!" concluded Flo, smiling gamely through her 
 glistening tears. "Just a little April shower, that will 
 soon be dissipated by the glorious sun! I'm not losing 
 my grip, and Winnie is a dear and such a comfort. 
 Doesn't care for finery and luxuries and does all the real 
 housekeeping, while I fuss around or rest up. " And 
 Flo beamed on Winnie with maternal affection and 
 pride. 
 
 "But I've been terribly selfish and disagreeable,
 
 April Showers! 163 
 
 Tipsy," continued Flo, "unburdening my troubles on 
 you and Buck! After all, this is a good old world, 
 and tonight I'm perfectly happy. Winnie and I are 
 always happy when Tip takes us out, " she confided to 
 Buck. "He's our Prince Charming, and the only 
 real friend " 
 
 "Bosh!" interrupted Tip, "I'd much rather be out 
 with my two little sisters and old Buck than with the 
 rum-hounds I generally trail with. We're getting close 
 to the Pell Tree Inn. Let's stop there and look 'em 
 over. Buck's dying for a little liquor, I know. How 
 about you, old top? Time for a little smile, wot? And 
 a couple of fox- trots with the girls! What d'ye say?'' 
 
 " Well, " drawled Buck, " I might be seduced ! I'm 
 agreeable!" 
 
 "Seduced! Agreeable!" laughed Tip, "why you 
 old toper, your tongue's hanging out, and I'm spitting 
 cotton myself ! A couple of nice, cool gin-daisies ought 
 to hit us about right, eh!" 
 
 "Fine!" assented Buck enthusiastically. "Occa- 
 sionally your old think-tank still emits flashes of bril- 
 liancy. " 
 
 The Pell Tree Inn, at which they presently pulled 
 up, was at its zenith of mirth and revelry. Tip was 
 in his element and the life of the party. A newspaper 
 "column" editor, he fairly bristled with humorous
 
 164 Rummy niscences 
 
 sallies and repartee. Buck too, as Tip had predicted, 
 relaxed after imbibing his second "daisy." Flo, her 
 troubles forgotten, was radiant, and convulsed them 
 with the recital of the ridiculous advances of an eccen- 
 tric and much-infatuated old fellow-lodger in their 
 rooming-house. Demure little Winnie blossomed into 
 a vivacious and positively bewitching enchantress. 
 Their table resounded with laughter and merriment. 
 
 Buck was now thoroughly adopted into the tribe. 
 He fox-trotted and one-stepped with Flo and Winnie 
 alternately, and vied with Tip in his endeavors to 
 provide pleasure and happiness for the "Revere Sis- 
 ters." 
 
 Eventually they wound up at the Hunter's Island 
 Inn. Here they regaled the girls with broiled lobsters 
 and crisp celery preceeded by hors d'oeuvres in the 
 form of delectable, dainty little caviare sandwiches, 
 all of which they washed down with rare old Scotch ale. 
 
 Over their demi-tasses they were content to quietly 
 survey their fellow-guests who at this late hour still 
 feasted, drank and danced away the cares and worries 
 of yesterday and of the morrow. 
 
 Presently Nature asserted herself. Flo, stifling a 
 yawn, called attention to the late hour and suggested 
 that they call it a night. Tired, but contented and 
 happy, they rolled back to the city.
 
 April Showers! 165 
 
 "Tip, old Scout, you're an ace!" vouchsafed Buck, 
 after they had safely seen the Revere sisters home. 
 "I enjoyed our little party immensely. Can't we 
 
 repeat it? Flo and Winnie are just well, most 
 
 lovable. It did my heart good to see them happy and 
 forgetting their troubles. Why can't I give them a 
 little party next week?" 
 
 "You can, old top! I'm sure they'd be delighted!" 
 rejoined Tip linking his arm into Buck's affectionately. 
 
 III. 
 
 From that night on, it became a pleasant duty with 
 them to bring cheer to the Revere Sisters at frequent 
 intervals. 
 
 But things went badly with their proteges notwith- 
 standing. 
 
 On one of their visits they found Flo disconsolate 
 and in tears. Pressed for an explanation, she shook 
 her head and remained silent. Presently gathering 
 herself, she forced a game little smile and dismissed 
 the subject.. 
 
 " Only another little April shower ! " she sighed, " and 
 now, let's be happy, for when you two old dears call, 
 the skies always clear and the clouds roll away. Don't 
 they, Winnie?" and she smiled at them bravely, while 
 Winnie nodded her assent.
 
 166 Rummy nscences 
 
 Flo's occasional fits of despondency worried her 
 two staunch friends. Their proffer of financial assist- 
 ance, she had gratefully but firmly refused, with a 
 finality that brooked no repetition, and there remained 
 nothing for them to offer but entertainment and cheer- 
 ing distraction. 
 
 On the occasion of a subsequent visit, however, Flo 
 was radiant. 
 
 "Just think, Tip! You'll hardly believe it, Buck!" 
 she exulted, "Winnie is to be featured in a big Broad- 
 way production. We're made! We're to break up 
 our act after we finish our bookings. I'm through with 
 the stage, except that I'll of course accompany Winnie 
 and look after her and her wardrobe. " 
 
 And then she related how they had become ac- 
 quainted with a big producer, who, after seeing their 
 act, had introduced himself, and had ever since been 
 paying marked attention to Winnie. 
 
 "He is working on a big musical comedy, to be 
 produced in the fall," continued Flo. "It's to be a 
 hummer, a big hit. Winnie is to be starred in a 
 sylvan dance act, as Diana the Goddess of the Chase, 
 supported by six other girls. Isn't it wonderful?" she 
 concluded. 
 
 Tip and Buck were equally delighted. They heart- 
 ily congratulated the future star and her proud and
 
 April Showers! 167 
 
 happy mother. All four made merry and celebrated 
 until well into the morning. 
 
 Shortly thereafter, Tip was offered and accepted a 
 lucrative assignment on a San Francisco newspaper and 
 left for the coast. Buck too was called away on an 
 extended business tour that entailed calls on practi- 
 cally all of the branch-offices and sales-agencies of his 
 company. They both completely lost track of the 
 Revere Sisters. 
 
 IV. 
 
 A year later, Buck, marooned for the night in a 
 small Middle- West town, drifted to the unpretentious 
 Opera House, the only diversion the town afforded. 
 
 As he sat in his fifty cent orchestra seat, between a 
 coal miner and steel puddler, and gazed about him at 
 the tawdry audience, men in black sateen shirts 
 and celluloid collars, and women garbed in cheap print- 
 cloth dresses, their hair covered with gaudy silk hand- 
 kerchiefs, he could not but contrast this motley 
 assemblage with the fashionable audiences that patron- 
 ized the elegant theatres of the metropolis. 
 
 " The whole blamed house don't represent over four 
 or five hundred dollars," he muttered. 
 
 Presently the orchestra, a piano, violin, cornet 
 and drummer, perpetrated the overture, and the
 
 168 Rummyniscences 
 
 well-worn curtain rose on a cheap, coarse burlesque 
 show of the stereotyped variety. 
 
 Buck watched the show listlessly. His predominat- 
 ing feeling was one of disgust, incited in particular 
 by the low comedian and "star" performer, whose 
 coarse witticisms and crude antics elicited loud guffaws 
 and applause from his equally low-cast audience. 
 
 And then, hand in hand, with the cheaply and flash- 
 ily-attired dandy of the show, there minced onto the 
 stage the smirking, powdered and painted heroine and 
 "Queen of the Burlesque." 
 
 Buck straightened up, craned forward and rubbed 
 his eyes in unbelief. 
 
 "Winnie! Winnie White! Beyond the shadow 
 of a doubt!" he gasped as he sank back in his seat. 
 
 He sat through the show in a daze. Conflicting 
 emotions surged through his brain. Towards the close 
 of the last act, he summoned an usher and slipping him 
 a dollar bill and a note hastily scrawled on one of his 
 cards, he instructed him to deliver it to Miss Vivian 
 Le Claire, the name under which Winnie was billed on 
 the program. 
 
 A little later, seated with Winnie among the poly- 
 glot patrons of the smelly and greasy restaurant that 
 adjoined the Opera House, he contemplated her in 
 silence, while Winnie chatted volubly and almost fever-
 
 April Showers! 169 
 
 ishly, monopolizing the conversation in a quite trans- 
 parent endeavor to ward off interrogation on his part. 
 
 "Only a year, and what a change!" soliloquized 
 Buck. " Demure, modest, quiet little Winnie, chatter- 
 ing insistently, quite boldly and even brazenly," 
 he thought. Her voice had harshened, and her eyes, 
 well, certainly they were no longer demure. The firm 
 expression of her mouth, the new lines that had crept 
 into her features, and her entire demeanor and bearing, 
 yes, she had changed, and somehow Buck experi- 
 enced a feeling of mingled disappointment, pity and 
 resentment. Her plumed turban, her bobbed hair, 
 her very attire, all appeared to Buck to be in keeping 
 with her cheap theatrical life and tawdry affiliation-. 
 
 "Winnie!" he present!^ blurted out, "Are you 
 really quite happy and contented?" 
 
 "Why er, yes, of course!....! have to be!" 
 she answered with a touch of her old naivete, wincing 
 under the directness and bluntness of his question. 
 
 Buck was not deceived by her assumed cheerfulness 
 and her pluck. However, he considerately shifted the 
 subject. "And Flo," he inquired, "how is she, and 
 what has become of her?" 
 
 "Oh, Flo!" replied Winnie, "why mother is O. K. 
 We broke up our act as you know. Things didn't pan 
 out, and she was terribly disappointed. She got sore
 
 170 Rummyniscences 
 
 on our act and the stage in general and the whole bloom- 
 ing business. Even before we quit she was all played 
 out and had to stall through our act. Stiff in the joints 
 and all that! Mother's no chicken you know, and it 
 was tough work, even for me!" vouchsafed Winnie. 
 
 " What is she doing? Where is she? " persisted Buck. 
 
 " Well, she's she's a waitress in a Child's Res- 
 taurant in New York" replied Winnie reluctantly. 
 "But she likes it and is doing fine," she added hastily. 
 "Much easier work, and with the tips she gets she's 
 making out pretty good. She stands fine with the 
 manager, too. He says she's the best and speediest 
 waitress he's got. Pretty light on her feet for a wait- 
 ress!" added Winnie smiling pathetically. "I get a 
 letter from her every week. She's all right! " 
 
 " And the big producer who was to star you, Winnie, 
 -what of him?" queried Buck. "Didn't his show 
 materialize or pan out?" 
 
 "Oh, he's around," replied Winnie evasively. 
 "Buck, do you remember that funny old fellow in our 
 boarding-house, that always tagged after mother, well 
 he" 
 
 "But what about the big producer, Winnie?" 
 insisted Buck. "He was paying all kinds of attention 
 to you. What became of him? Didn't he ?" 
 
 "I married him!" interrupted Winnie desperately.
 
 April Showers! 171 
 
 Buck gazed at her in astonishment. "What's the 
 rest of the story? Come, tell your old friend all about 
 it. Did the hound desert you? Or did you leave 
 him?" 
 
 "Not yet!" replied Winnie shrugging her shoulders 
 callously. "We're living together, after a fashion. 
 You saw him tonight in the show. The comedian!" 
 she concluded, lowering her eyes and toying with her 
 spoon. 
 
 "What, that low brow!" gasped Buck involuntarily, 
 staring at Winnie in amazement and disbelief. 
 
 "Yes," sighed Winnie resignedly. "But he looked 
 different somehow when we first met. Seemed like a 
 fine gentleman and talked so convincingly of his big 
 show and all his wonderful plans. Well, the longer 
 we live the more we learn! Not that Joe's such a bad 
 sort" she continued, "he treats me all right, as well 
 as he can, when he's sober!" 
 
 Poor Winnie! Buck's heart went out to her i n 
 warmest sympathy. 
 
 "And the big production what became of it?" 
 he presently inquired again. 
 
 "That was it the show you saw tonight!" replied 
 Winnie drearily, you see Joe is a bit optimistic and 
 talks pretty big! Some show Buck, isn't it?" she 
 concluded with a trace of her old archness.
 
 172 Rummy niscences 
 
 "Damn it all!" ejaculated Buck, "you positively 
 can't go on like this, Winnie ! How long are you going 
 to keep up this this farce?" 
 
 "Oh, I don't know," rejoined Winnie listlessly, 
 "you see I'm hooked! Some day, when Joe's beastly 
 drunk and brutal, I'll run away back to Flo 
 to mother ! You see it's in our blood ! Flo ran away 
 from my father you know! Don't you think I'd 
 make a pretty Child's waitress? Maybe as good as 
 Flo!" She laughed bravely in simulated gaiety. 
 
 Buck did not respond. He could sense no humor in 
 the situation. For some time he pondered silently. 
 "Winnie, there must be some way out of this mess!" 
 he asserted, "non-support, incompatibility, brutality, 
 or something! In the meantime, can I help you in 
 any way? Do do you need money?" 
 
 "No, Buck! You're a dear, but you can't do a 
 
 thing. I'm all right. But you might look up Flo and 
 
 and take her out for old time's sake!" And 
 
 with that Winnie broke down and sobbed convul" 
 
 sively. 
 
 "Don't Winnie! Don't Brace up! Everything 
 will come out all right!" comforted Buck. 
 
 "Yes !" smiled Winnie, drying her tears, "per- 
 haps! Don't mind me. Buck. As Flo would say
 
 April Showers! 173 
 
 only a little April shower! The clouds will soon roll 
 away! I'm all right. And now let's go!" 
 
 Shortly after Buck's return to New York he wrote 
 Winnie a cheering letter. It came back unopened 
 and marked "Not Found." 
 
 V. 
 
 The months rolled by, the gorgeous autumn, the 
 dreary winter and the gladsome Spring. It was 
 summer a balmy night in June. 
 
 Buck, seated in a taxi, all spruced up and immacu- 
 late, lolled back in blissful revery rapturously in 
 love! And tonight he was on his way to take the 
 plunge, to propose. 
 
 As he rolled towards her home, dreaming, planning, 
 and fondling the little plush case that contained the 
 ring, he was roused from his meditations by the stop- 
 ping of his taxi stalled for a moment in the Broad- 
 way traffic jam. 
 
 The strains of a familiar hymn, the blare of a cornet 
 and a trombone, and a thumping bass-drum, vied with 
 the traffic noises. A Salvation Army group, right 
 alongside of his stalled taxi, was fervently engaged in 
 its nightly effort to arouse religious ardor and to gather 
 converts. 
 
 Buck, impatient and annoyed, peered out through 
 the open taxi window. His gaze swept from the melan-
 
 174 Rummy niscences ! 
 
 choly brother who soulfully thumped the big bass-drum 
 to the equally doleful eornetist, and to the two ragged 
 converts, kneeling in the gutter saved! Suddenly 
 he gasped in astonishment, his eyes riveted in an in- 
 credulous stare ! 
 
 Sister Florence and Sister Winifred, their arms 
 encircling each other's waists, jangled their tambour- 
 ines, and sang with rapturous fervor, their countenances 
 under their quaint Salvation Army bonnets, suffused 
 with beatific smiles of peace and contentment. 
 
 His taxi disentangled itself and lurched ahead. 
 
 "Hell's Bells and Jumping Jupiter!" ejaculated 
 Buck, "Some knock-out! Life sure is a queer riddle! 
 Anyhow they certainly looked happy and contented. 
 Perhaps the April showers and sombre clouds have 
 really passed for good at last!"
 
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