140
 
 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB
 
 p H 
 
 1/5 O
 
 BY 
 
 SEWELL FORD 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 SHORTY McCABE, SIDE-STEPPING WITH 
 SHORTY, ETC. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY 
 
 F. VAUX WILSON 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1913, 1914, 1915, BT 
 SEWELL FORD 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY 
 
 EDWARD J. CLODE 
 
 All rights reserved
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTEB PAGE 
 
 I. WISHING A NEW ONE ON SHOBTY . ^ * 1 
 
 II. A FEW SQUIBMS BY BAYARD . . . w 18 
 
 III. PEEKING IN ON PEDDERS . . ., w M r . 32 
 
 IV. Two SINGLES TO GOOBER . . .. M t . , 49 
 V. THE CASE OF A FEMALE PASTY . >, ,., . 65 
 
 VI. How MILLIE SHOOK THB JINX ., t . ; .., . 81 
 
 VII. REVERSE ENGLISH ON SONNY BOY ... . 100 
 
 VIII. GUMMING GOPHEB TO THE MAP . . .. .115 
 
 IX. WHAT LINDY HAD UP HEB SLEEVE . . . 131 
 
 X. A CASE OF NOBODY HOME ..... 150 
 
 XI. UNDEB THE WIBE WITH EDWIN . . ,. ; .165 
 
 XII. A FIFTY-FIFTY SPLIT WITH HUNK ; . : , .182 
 
 XIII. A FOLLOW THROUGH BY EGGY . . . .198 
 
 XIV. CATCHING UP WITH GEBALD . ; . . ., 217 
 XV. SHOBTY HEARS FROM PEMAQUID . . . .. 233 
 
 XVI. SCBATCH ONE ON BULGAROO . . .. , . 251 
 
 XVII. BAYABD DUCKS His PAST . 267 
 
 XVIII. TBAUJNG DUDLEY THBOUGH A TBAWCE w 285 
 
 XIX. A LITTLE WHILE WITH ALVIN M M 304
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 " IT MIGHT GIVE US SOME CLEW," SATS I, " AS TO 
 WHAT HIM AND TOUR PAW HAS A RUN-IN 
 
 ABOUT " . . . . . Frontispiece 
 
 FACING PAGE 
 
 " I WOULDN'T HAVE ANTTHING HAPPEN TO TOU 
 
 FOR THE WORLD," SATS I .... 8 
 
 " NOW SEE HEA-UH, MlSTUH CONSTABLE," SATS 
 
 HE, " I WOULDN'T GO FOR TO DO ANTTHING 
 LIKE THAT " 60 
 
 " SAT, I'M A BEAR FOR PARIS " . . . .97 
 
 " NOW, FRIENDS," HE CALLS, " EVERTBODT EN ON 
 
 THE CHORUS " 124 
 
 " WHAT'S THE IDEA," SATS MABEL, " WISHIN' 
 
 THIS RUBE STUFF ON us? " . . . . 157 
 
 HE SIDLES UP TO THE DESK AND PROCEEDS TO 
 
 MAKE SOME THROATT NOISES . 199
 
 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB
 
 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 WISHING A NEW ONE ON SHOBTY 
 
 DO things just happen, like peculiar 
 changes in the weather, or is there a 
 general scheme on file somewhere! Is 
 it a free-for-all we're mixed up in with our 
 Harry Thaws and our Helen Kellers ; our white 
 slavers, our white hopes, and our white plague 
 campaigns; our trunk murders, and our fire 
 heroes? Or are we runnin' on schedule and 
 headed somewhere? 
 
 I ain't givin' you the answer. I'm just slip- 
 pin' you the proposition, with the side remark 
 that now and then, when the jumble seems 
 worse than ever, you can get a glimpse of what 
 might be a clew, or might not. 
 
 Anyway, here I was, busy as a little bee, block- 
 in' right hooks and body jabs that was bein' 
 shot at me by a husky young uptown minister 
 who's a headliner at his job, I understand, but 
 who's developin' a good, useful punch on the 
 side. I was just landin' a cross wallop to the 
 ribs, by way of keepin' him from bein' too am- 
 bitious with his left, when out of the tail of
 
 2 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 my eye I notices Swifty Joe edgin' in with a 
 card in his paw. 
 
 " Time out ! " says I, steppin' back and drop- 
 pin' my guard. " Well, Swifty, what's the 
 scandal? " 
 
 " Gent waitin' to see you," says he. 
 
 " Let him wait, then," says I. 
 
 " Ah-r-r-r, but he's a reg'lar gent!" pro- 
 tests Swifty, fingerin' the card. 
 
 " Even so, he'll keep five minutes more, 
 won't he? " says I. 
 
 " But he he's " begins Swifty, strug- 
 
 glin' to connect that mighty intellect of his with 
 his tongue. 
 
 " Ah, read off the name," says I. "Is it 
 Mayor Mitchel, Doc Wilson, or who? " 
 
 " It says J. B-a-y-a-r-d Ste Steele," says 
 Swifty. 
 
 " Eh? ' says I, gawpin'. " Lemme see. 
 Him! Say, Swifty, you go back and tell J. 
 Bayard that if he's got nerve enough to want 
 to see me, it'll be a case of wait. And if he's 
 at all messy about it, I give you leave to roll 
 him downstairs. The front of some folks! 
 Come on now, Dominie! Cover up better with 
 that right mitt: I'm goin' to push in a few on 
 you this time." 
 
 And if yon never saw a Fifth avenue 
 preacher well lathered up you should have 
 had a glimpse of this one at the end of the next 
 round. He's game, though; even thanks me for 
 it puffy.
 
 WISHING A NEW ONE ON SHOKTY 3 
 
 " You're welcome," says I. " Maybe I did 
 steam 'em in a bit ; but I expect it was because 
 I had my mind on that party out front. While 
 you're rubbin' down I'll step in and attend to 
 his case. If I could only wish a pair of eight- 
 ounce gloves on him for a few minutes ! ' ' 
 
 So, without stoppin' to change, or even shed- 
 din' the mitts, I walks into the front office, to 
 discover this elegant party in the stream-line 
 cutaway pacin' restless up and down the room. 
 Yes, he sure is some imposin' to look at, with 
 his pearl gray spats, and the red necktie blazin' 
 brilliant under the close-clipped crop of Grand 
 Duke whiskers. I don't know what there is 
 special about a set of frosted face shubb'ry that 
 sort of suggests bank presidents and so on, but 
 somehow they do. Them and the long, thin nose 
 gives him a pluty, distinguished look, in spite 
 of the shifty eyes and the weak mouth lines. 
 But I ain't in a mood to be impressed. 
 
 " Well? " says I snappy. 
 
 I expect my appearin' in a cut-out jersey, 
 with my shoulder muscles still bunched, must 
 have jarred him a little; for he lifts his eye- 
 brows doubtful and asks, " Er Professor Mc- 
 Cabe, is it? " 
 
 II Uh-huh," says I. " What '11 it be? " 
 * ' My name, ' ' says he, * ' is Steele. ' ' 
 
 " I know," says I. " Snug fit too, I judge." 
 He flushes quick and stiffens. " Do you 
 
 mean to infer, Sir, that " 
 
 " You're on," says I. " The minute I heard
 
 4 SHOETY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 your name I placed you for the smooth party 
 that tried to unload a lot of that phony Eadio 
 stock on Mrs. Benny Sherwood. Wanted to 
 euchre her out of the twenty thousand life in- 
 surance she got when Benny took the booze 
 count last winter, eh? Well, it happens she's a 
 friend of Mrs. McCabe, and it was through me 
 your little scheme was blocked. Now I guess 
 we ought to be real well acquainted." 
 
 But I might have known such crude stuff 
 wouldn't get under the hide of a polished article 
 like J. Bayard. He only shrugs his shoulders 
 and smiles sarcastic. 
 
 " The pleasure seems to be all mine," says 
 he. " But as you choose. Who am I to con- 
 tend with the defender of the widow and the 
 orphan that between issuing a stock and trad- 
 ing in it there is a slight difference ? However 
 deeply I am distressed by your private opinion 
 of me, I shall try to " 
 
 " Ah, ditch the sarcasm," says I, " and 
 spring your game ! What is it this trip, a wire- 
 tappin' scheme, or just plain green goods? ' 
 
 " You flatter me," says J. Bayard. " No, 
 my business of the moment is not to appro- 
 priate any of the princely profits of your er 
 honest toil," and he stops for another of 
 them acetic-acid smiles. 
 
 " Yes," says I, " it is a batty way of gettin' 
 money workin' for it, eh? But go on. 
 Whatcher mean you lost your dog? " 
 
 " I er I beg pardon? " says he.
 
 WISHING A NEW ONE ON SHORTY 5 
 
 "Ah, get down to brass tacks! " says I. 
 " You ain't payin' a society call, I take it? " 
 
 He gets that. And what do you guess comes 
 next? Well, he hands over a note. It's from 
 a lawyer's office, askin' him to call at two P.M. 
 that day to meet with me, as it reads, " and 
 discuss a matter of mutual interest and advan- 
 tage." It's signed " B. K. Judson, Attorney." 
 
 " Well, couldn't you wait? " says L "It's 
 only eleven- thirty now, you know." 
 
 " It is merely a question," says Steele, " of 
 whether or not I shall go at all." 
 
 "So you hunt me up to do a little private 
 sleuthin' first, eh? " says I. 
 
 "It is only natural," says he. "I don't 
 know this Mr. er Judson, or what he wants 
 of me." 
 
 " No more do I," says I. " And the notice 
 I got didn't mention you at all; so you have 
 that much edge on me. ' ' 
 
 " And you are going? " says he. 
 
 " I'll take a chance, sure," says I. " Maybe 
 I'll button my pockets a little tighter, and tuck 
 my watchfob out of sight; but no lawyer can 
 throw a scare into me just by askin' me to call. 
 Besides, it says ' mutual interest and advan- 
 tage,' don't it? " 
 
 " H-m-m-m! " says Mr. Steele, after gazin' 
 at the note thoughtful. "So it does. But 
 
 lawyers have a way of " Here he breaks 
 
 off sudden and asks, " You say you never heard 
 of this Mr. Judson before? "
 
 6 SHOBTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 " That's where you fool yourself," says I. 
 " I said I didn't know him; but if it'll relieve 
 your mind any, I've heard him mentioned. He 
 used to handle Pyramid Gordon's private af- 
 fairs." 
 
 " Ah! Gordon! " says Steele, his shifty eyes 
 narrowin '. ' * Yes, yes ! Died abroad a month 
 or so ago, didn't he? " 
 
 " In Eome," says I. " The rheumatism got 
 to his heart. He could see it comin' to him be- 
 fore he left. Poor old Pyramid! " 
 
 " Indeed? " says Steele. " And was Gordon 
 er a friend of yours, may I ask? " 
 
 " One of my best," says I. " Know him, did 
 you? " 
 
 Mr. Steele darts a quick glance at me. 
 * * Eather ! ' ' says he. 
 
 " Then there can't be so much myst'ry about 
 this note, then," says I. " Maybe he's willed 
 us a trinket or so. Friend of yours too, I ex- 
 pect? " 
 
 J. Bayard almost grins at that. " I have no 
 good reason to doubt," says he, " that Pyramid 
 Gordon hated me quite as thoroughly and ac- 
 tively as I disliked him." 
 
 " He was good at that too," says L " Had 
 a little run-in with him, did you? ' 
 
 " One that lasted something like twenty 
 years," says Steele. 
 
 " Oh! " says I. " Fluffs or finance? " 
 
 " Purely a business matter," says he. " It 
 began in Chicago, back in the good old days
 
 WISHING A NEW ONE ON SHORTY 7 
 
 when trade was unhampered by fool adminis- 
 trations. At the time, if I may mention the 
 fact, I had some little prominence as a pool or- 
 ganizer. We were trying to corner July wheat, 
 getting along very nicely too, when your 
 friend Gordon got in our way. He had man- 
 aged to secure control of a dinky grain-carrying 
 railroad and a few elevators. On the strength 
 of that he demanded that we let him in. So we 
 were forced to take measures to er eliminate 
 him." 
 
 " And Pyramid wouldn't be eliminated, 
 eh? " says I. 
 
 J. Bayard shrugs his shoulders careless and 
 spreads out his hands. " Gordon luck! " says 
 he. " Of course we were unprepared for such 
 methods as he employed against us. Up to that 
 time no one had thought of stealing an advance 
 copy of the government crop report and using 
 it to break the market. However, it worked. 
 Our corner went to smash. I was cleaned out. 
 You might have thought that would have satis- 
 fied most men ; but not Pyramid Gordon ! Why, 
 he even pushed things so far as to sell out my 
 office furniture, and bought the brass signs, 
 with my name on them, to hang in his own 
 office, as a Sioux Indian displays a scalp, or a 
 Mindanao head hunter ornaments his gatepost 
 with his enemy's skull. That was the begin- 
 ning; and while my opportunities for paying 
 off the score have been somewhat limited, I 
 trust I have neglected none. And now well,
 
 8 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 I can't possibly see why the closing up of his 
 affairs should interest me at all. Can you? " 
 
 " Say, you don't think I'm doin' any volun- 
 teer frettin' on your account, do you? " says I. 
 
 " I quite understand," says he. " But about 
 seeing this lawyer do you advise me to go? " 
 
 He's squintin' at me foxy out of them shifty 
 eyes of his, cagy and suspicious, like we was 
 playin' some kind of a game. You know the 
 sort of party J. Bayard is if you don't, you're 
 lucky. So what's the use wastin' breath! I 
 steps over and opens the front office door. 
 
 " Don't chance it," says I. "I wouldn't 
 have anything happen to you for the world. 
 I'll tell Judson I've come alone, to talk for the 
 dictograph and stand on the trapdoor. And as 
 you go down the stairs there better walk close 
 to the wall." 
 
 J. Bayard, still smilin', takes the hint. " Oh, 
 I may turn up, after all," says he as he leaves. 
 
 " Huh! " says I, indicatin' deep scorn. 
 
 But if I'd been curious before about this in- 
 vite to the law office, I was more so now. So 
 shortly after two I was on hand. And I find 
 Mr. Steele has beat me to it by a minute or so. 
 He's camped in the waitin' room, lookin' as 
 imposin' and elegant as ever. 
 
 " Well, you ain't been sandbagged or jabbed 
 with a poison needle yet, I see," says I. 
 
 He glances around uneasy. " Mr. Judson is 
 coming," says he. " They said he was here 
 he is!"
 
 "I WOULDN'T HAVE ANYTHING HAPPEN TO YOU FOR 
 
 THE WORLD," SAYS I.
 
 WISHING A NEW ONE ON SHORTY 9 
 
 No thin' terrifyin' about Judson, either. 
 He's a slim-built, youngish lookin' party, with 
 an easy, quiet way of talkin', a friendly, con- 
 fidin' smile; but about the keenest, steadiest 
 pair of brown eyes I ever had turned loose on 
 me. He shakes us cordial by the hand, thanks 
 us for bein' prompt, and tows us into his 
 private office. 
 
 " I have the papers all ready," says he. 
 
 " That's nice," says I. " And maybe some- 
 time or other you can tell us what it's all 
 about? " 
 
 " At once," says he. " You are named as co- 
 executors with me for the estate of the late 
 Curtis B. Gordon." 
 
 At which J. Bayard gasps. " I? " says he. 
 " An executor for Pyramid Gordon? " 
 
 Judson nods. " I understand," says he r 
 " that you were ah not on friendly terms 
 with Mr. Gordon. But he was a somewhat un- 
 usual man, you know. In this instance, for ex- 
 ample, he has selected Professor McCabe, whom 
 he designates as one of his most trusted friends, 
 and yourself, whom he designates as his ah 
 oldest enemy. No offense, I hope? ' 
 
 " Quite accurate, so far as I am concerned," 
 says Steele. 
 
 " Very well," says the lawyer. " Then I 
 may read the terms of his will that he wishes 
 us to carry out." 
 
 And, believe me, even knowin' some of the odd 
 streaks of Pyramid Gordon the way I did, this
 
 10 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 last and final sample had me bug-eyed before 
 Judson got through! It starts off straight 
 enough, with instructions to deal out five thou- 
 sand here and ten there, to various parties, 
 his old office manager, his man Minturn, that 
 niece of his out in Denver, and so on. But when 
 it come to his scheme for disposin' of the 
 bulk of his pile well, just lemme sketch it for 
 you! 
 
 Course, I can't give it to you the way Pyra- 
 mid had it put down ; but here was the gen 'ral 
 plan: Knowin' he had to take the count, he'd 
 been chewin' things over. He wa'n't squealin', 
 or tryin' to square himself either here or be- 
 yond. He'd lived his own life in his own way, 
 and he was standin' pat on his record. He 
 knew he'd put over some raw deals; but the 
 same had been handed to him. Maybe he'd hit 
 back at times harder 'n he 'd been hit. If he had, 
 he wa'n't sorry. He'd only played the game 
 accordin' to the rules he knew. 
 
 Still, now that it was most over, he had in 
 mind a few cases where he'd always meant to 
 sort of even things up if he could. There was 
 certain parties he 'd thrown the hooks into kind 
 of deep maybe, durin' the heat of the scrap; 
 and afterwards, from time to time, he 'd thought 
 he might have a chance to do 'em a good turn, 
 help 'em back to their feet again, or some- 
 thing like that. But somehow, with bein' so 
 busy, and kind of out of practice at that sort 
 of thing, he'd never got around to any of 'em.
 
 WISHING A NEW ONE ON SHORTY 11 
 
 So now he was handin' over the job to us, all 
 in a lump. 
 
 " And I have here," goes on Mr. Judson, ex- 
 hibitin' a paper, " a list of names and ad- 
 dresses. They are the persons, Mr. Steele, on 
 whose behalf you are requested, with the advice 
 and help of Professor McCabe, to perform some 
 kind and generous act. My part will be merely 
 to handle the funds." And he smiles confidin r 
 at J. Bayard. 
 
 Mr. Steele has been listenin' close, his ears 
 cocked, and them shifty eyes of his takin' in 
 every move; but at this last he snorts. " Do 
 you mean to say," says he, " that I am 
 asked to er to play the good fairy to per- 
 sons who have been wronged by Pyramid 
 Gordon? " 
 
 " Precisely," says the lawyer. "They num- 
 ber something over twenty, I believe; but the 
 fund provided is quite ample nearly three 
 millions, if we are able to realize on all the 
 securities." 
 
 " But this is absurd," says J. Bayard, " ask- 
 ing me to distribute gifts and so on to a lot of 
 strangers with whom I have nothing in com- 
 mon, except, perhaps, a common enemy! A 
 fine time I'd have, wouldn't I, explaining 
 that " 
 
 " Pardon me," breaks in Judson, " but one 
 of the conditions is that it must all be done 
 anonymously; at least, so far as the late Mr. 
 Gordon is concerned. As for your own identity
 
 12 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 in the several cases, you may make it known or 
 not, as you see fit." 
 
 ' ' How truly fascinating ! ' ' sneers Mr. 
 Steele, gettin' up and reachin' for his hat. 
 " To go about like an unseen ministering angel, 
 trying to salve the bygone bruises of those who 
 were unlucky enough to get in Pyramid Gor- 
 don's way! Beautiful! But unfortunately I 
 have other affairs." 
 
 He was startin' for the door too, when Jud- 
 son smiles quiet and holds up a stayin' hand. 
 " Just a moment more," says the lawyer. 
 " You may be interested to hear of another dis- 
 position decided upon by Mr. Gordon in the 
 event of your refusal to act in this capacity." 
 
 " He might have known me better," says 
 Steele. 
 
 " Perhaps he did," says Judson. " I should 
 hardly say that he lacked insight or shrewdness. 
 He was a man too, who was quite accustomed to 
 having his own way. In this instance he had 
 rather a respectable fortune to dispose of ac- 
 cording to his own somewhat original ideas. 
 Leave it to public institutions he would not. 
 He was thoroughly opposed to what he termed 
 post-mortem philanthropy of the general kind. 
 To quote his own words, ' I am not enough of a 
 hypocrite to believe that a society based on or- 
 ganized selfishness can right its many wrongs 
 by spasmodic gifts to organized charity.' : 
 
 J. Bayard shifts uneasy on his feet and 
 smothers a yawn. " All very interesting, I'm
 
 WISHING A NEW ONE ON SHOETY 13 
 
 sure," says he; " but really, you know, Pyra- 
 mid Gordon's theories on such matters do 
 not " 
 
 " I am merely suggesting," breaks in the 
 lawyer, " that you may care to glance over an- 
 other list of twenty names. These are the per- 
 sons among whom Mr. Gordon's estate will be 
 divided if the first plan cannot be carried out. ' ' 
 
 Mr. Steele hesitates; but he fin'lly fishes out 
 a pair of swell nose pinchers that he wears hung 
 from a wide ribbon, and assumes a bored ex- 
 pression. He don't hold that pose long. He 
 couldn't have read more'n a third of the names 
 before he shows signs of bein' mighty in- 
 t 'rested. 
 
 " Why, see here! " says he. "I'd like to 
 know, Sir, where in thunder you got this list ! ' ' 
 
 " Yes, I thought you would," says Judson. 
 1 ' It was quite simple. Perhaps you remember, 
 a few days ago, meeting a friendly, engag- 
 ing young man in the cafe of your hotel? 
 Asked you to join him at luncheon, I believe, 
 and talked vaguely about making invest- 
 ments? " 
 
 " Young Churchill? " says J. Bayard. 
 
 " Correct," says the lawyer. " One of our 
 brightest young men. Entertaining talker too. 
 And if I'm not mistaken, it was he who opened 
 a good-natured discussion as to the limit of 
 actual personal acquaintance which the average 
 man has, ending by his betting fifty dollars 
 rather foolishly, I admit that you could not
 
 14 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 remember the names and addresses of twenty 
 persons whom you actually disliked. Well, you 
 won. Here is the list you made out." 
 
 And the stunned way J. Bayard gawps at the 
 piece of paper brings out a snicker from me. 
 He flushes up at that and glares down at Jud- 
 son. 
 
 ' ' Tactics worthy of a Tombs lawyer ! ' ' says 
 he. "I congratulate you on your high-class 
 legal methods! " 
 
 " Oh, not at all," says Judson. " A sugges- 
 tion of Mr. Gordon's. Another evidence of his 
 insight into character, as well as his foresight 
 into events. So, you see, Mr. Steele, if you de- 
 cline to become the benefactor of Mr. Gordon's 
 enemies, his money goes to yours! " 
 
 " The old fox! " snarls J. Bayard. " Why 
 I let me see that list again." 
 
 It's no more'n gripped in his fingers than he 
 steps back quick and begins tearin' it to bits. 
 I'd jumped for him and had his wrists clinched 
 when Judson waves me off. 
 
 " Only a copy," says he smilin'. " I have 
 several more. Sit down, Mr. Steele, and let me 
 give you another." 
 
 Kind of dazed and subdued, J. Bayard sub- 
 mits to bein' pushed into a chair. After a 
 minute or so he fixes his glasses again, and be- 
 gins starin' at the fresh list, murnblin' over 
 some of the names to himself. 
 
 "To them! Three millions! " says he gaspy. 
 
 " Roughly estimated," says Judson, " that
 
 WISHING A NEW ONE ON SHORTY 15 
 
 would be about one hundred and fifty thousand 
 dollars apiece which you would, in effect, hand 
 over. ' ' 
 
 " And the only way to keep them from get- 
 ting it," goes on Steele, " is for me to spend 
 my time hunting up Pyramid Gordon's lot! " 
 
 " Not entirely without recompense," adds 
 the lawyer. " As an inducement for doing the 
 work thoroughly, I am authorized to give you a 
 commission on all you spend in that way." 
 
 " How much? " demands the other. 
 
 11 Twenty per cent.," says Judson. " For in- 
 stance, if in doing some kind and generous deed 
 for a person on Mr. Gordon's list, you spend, 
 say, five thousand, you get a thousand for your- 
 self." 
 
 " Ah! " says Steele, perkin' up consider 'ble. 
 
 " The only condition being," goes on the 
 lawyer, " that in each case your kind and gen- 
 erous proposals must have the indorsement and 
 approval of Professor McCabe, who is asked 
 to give his advice in these matters on a five per 
 cent, basis. I may add that a like amount comes 
 to me in place of any other fee. So you see this 
 is to be a joint enterprise. Is that satisfactory 
 to you, Mr. McCabe? " 
 
 " It's more'n I usually get for my advice," 
 says I, " and I guess Pyramid Gordon knew 
 well enough he didn't have to pay for anything 
 like that from me. But if that's the way he 
 planned it out, it goes." 
 
 " And you, Mr. Steele? " says Jndson.
 
 16 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 " One dollar for every five that I can spend 
 of Pyramid Gordon's money? " says he, 
 wrinklin' his eye corners. "With pleasure! 
 When may I begin? " 
 
 " Now," says Judson, reachin' prompt into 
 a pigeonhole and producin' a sealed envelope. 
 " Here is the first name on the list. When you 
 bring me Professor McCabe's indorsement of 
 any expenses incurred, or sum to be paid out, 
 I shall give you a check at once." 
 
 And, say, the last I see of J. Bayard he was 
 driftin' through the door, gazin' absent-minded 
 at the envelope, like he was figurin' on how 
 much he could grab off at the first swipe. I 
 gazes after him thoughtful until the comic side 
 of it struck me. 
 
 " This is a hot combination we're in, eh? " I 
 chuckles to the lawyer gent. " Steele, Judson 
 & McCabe, Joy Distributers; with J. Bayard 
 there wieldin' the fairy wand. Why, say, I'd 
 as quick think of askin' Scrappy McGraw to 
 preside at a peace conference! " 
 
 Mr. Judson 's busy packin' away his papers 
 in a document case; but he smiles vague over 
 his shoulder. 
 
 " Honest now," I goes on, " do you think 
 our friend will make good as the head of the 
 sunshine department? " 
 
 " That," says Judson, " is a matter which 
 Mr. Gordon seems to have left wholly to you." 
 
 " Eh? " says I, doin' the gawp act sudden on 
 my own account. ' ' Well, post me for a Bush
 
 WISHING A NEW ONE ON SHORTY 17 
 
 League yannigan if it don't listen that way! 
 Then I can see where I'll be earnin' my five 
 per cent, all right, and yet some! Referee 
 for a kind deeds campaign ! Good night, Sister 
 Sue! But it's on old Pyramid's account; so let 
 J. Bayard shoot 3 em in! "
 
 CHAPTEE H 
 
 A FEW SQUIRMS BY BAYARD 
 
 SAY, take it from me, this job of umpirin' a 
 little-deeds-of-kindness campaign, as conducted 
 by J. Bayard Steele, Esq., ain't any careless 
 gladsome romp through the daisy fields. It's a 
 real job! 
 
 He's the one, you know, that poor old Pyra- 
 mid Gordon rest his soul! picked out to 
 round up all the hangover grouches he'd 
 strewed behind him durin' a long and active 
 career, with instructions to soothe the same 
 with whatever balm seemed best, regardless of 
 expense. 
 
 And the hard part of it for Steele is that he 
 has to get my O.K. on all his schemes before 
 he can collect from the estate. And while I 
 don't bill myself for any expert on lovin '-kind- 
 ness, and as a gen'ral thing I ain't of a sus- 
 picious nature, I'm wise enough to apply the 
 acid test and bore for lead fillin' on anything 
 he hands in. Course maybe I'm too hard on 
 him, but it strikes me that an ex-pool organizer, 
 who makes a livin* as capper for a hotel branch 
 of a shady stock-brokin' firm, ain't had the 
 best kind of trainin' as an angel of mercy. 
 
 18
 
 A FEW SQUIEMS BY BAYARD 19 
 
 So when he shows up at my Physical Culture 
 Studio again, the day after Lawyer Judson 
 has explained for us the fine points of that 
 batty will of Pyramid's, I'm about as friendly 
 and guileless as a dyspeptic customs inspector 
 preparin' to go through the trunks of a Fifth 
 avenue dressmaker. He comes in smilin' and 
 chirky, though, slaps me chummy on the shoul- 
 der, and remarks cordial: 
 
 11 Well, my trusty coworker in well doing, I 
 have come to report progress." 
 
 " Shoot it, then," says I, settlin' back in my 
 chair. 
 
 " You will be surprised," he goes on, " to 
 learn who is first to benefit by my vicarious 
 philanthropy. ' ' 
 
 " Your which? " says L 
 
 " Merely another simile for our glorious 
 work," says he. " You couldn't guess whose 
 name was in that envelope, Twombley- 
 Crane's! " 
 
 " The Long Island plute! " says I. " You 
 don't say! Why, when did Pyramid ever get 
 the best of him, I wonder? " 
 
 " I had almost forgotten the affair myself," 
 says Steele. * ' It was more than a dozen years 
 ago, when Twombley-Crane was still actively 
 interested in the railroad game. He was presi- 
 dent of the Q., L. & M.; made a hobby of it, 
 you know. Used to deliver flowery speeches to 
 the stockholders, and was fond of boasting that 
 his road had never passed a dividend. About
 
 20 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 that time Gordon was organizing the Water 
 Level System. He needed the Q., L. & M. as 
 a connecting link. But Twombley-Crane would 
 listen to no scheme of consolidation. Rather 
 an arrogant aristocrat, Twombley-Crane, as 
 perhaps you know? " 
 
 " Yes, he's a bit stiff in the neck," says L 
 " He gave Gordon a flat no," goes on Steele. 
 " Had him shown out of his office, so the story 
 went. And of course Pyramid started gunning 
 for him. Twombley-Crane had many interests 
 at the time, financial, social, political. But 
 suddenly his appointment as Ambassador to 
 Germany, which had seemed so certain, was 
 blocked in the Senate ; his plans for getting con- 
 trol of all the ore-carrying steamer lines on the 
 Lakes were upset by the appearance of a rival 
 steamship pool ; and then came the annual meet- 
 ing of the Q., L. & M., at which Gordon pre- 
 sented a dark horse candidate. You see, for 
 months Pyramid had been buying in loose hold- 
 ings and gathering proxies, and on the first 
 ballot he fired Twombley-Crane out of the Q., 
 L. & M. so abruptly that he never quite knew 
 how it happened. And you know how Gordon 
 milked the line during the next few years. It 
 was a bitter pill for Twombley-Crane; for it 
 hurt his pride as well as his pocketbook. That 
 was why he quit Chicago for New York. Not 
 a bad move, either ; for he bought into Manhat- 
 tan Transportation at just the right time. But 
 I imagine he never forgave Gordon."
 
 A FEW SQUIRMS BY BAYAED 21 
 
 . . 
 
 Huh! " says I. "So that's why they used 
 to act so standoffish whenever they'd run 
 across each other here at the studio. Well, 
 well! And what's your idea of applyin' a 
 poultice to Twombley-Crane's twelve-year-old 
 sting? " 
 
 "Ah-h-h!" says J. Bayard, rubbin' his 
 hands genial, and at the same time watchin' me 
 narrow to see how I'm goin' to take it. 
 " Rather difficult, eh? I confess that I was 
 almost stumped at first. Why, he's worth to- 
 day twice as much as Gordon ever was! So 
 it ought to be something handsome, hadn't it? " 
 
 " That depends," says I. " Have anything 
 special in mind, did you? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," says Steele. " Now what do you 
 say to presenting him with a nice, comfortable 
 steam yacht, all equipped for cruising, with a 
 captain and " 
 
 "Flag it!" says I. " Twombley-Crane 
 ain't a yachty person, at all. He's a punk 
 sailor, to begin with. Besides, he's tried ownin' 
 a yacht, and she almost rusted apart waitin' 
 for him to use her. Nothing like that for 
 him." 
 
 J. Bayard looks mighty disappointed. He'd 
 planned on spendin' a couple of hundred thou- 
 sand or so of Pyramid's money at one lick, 
 you see, which would have been some haul for 
 him, and my turnin' the scheme down so prompt 
 was a hard blow. He continued to argue the 
 case for ten minutes before he gives up.
 
 22 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 " Well, what is the objection, then," he goes 
 on, " to a handsome limousine, with one of 
 those luxurious French bodies, solid silver fit- 
 tings, and " 
 
 " He's got a garage full of cars now," says 
 I, " and hardly ever steps into one himself. 
 His fad is to stick to horses, you know." 
 
 More long-face business by J. Bayard. But 
 he's a quick recoverer. " In that case," says 
 he, " suppose I send over for a pair of Arabs, 
 the best blood to be found, and have them put 
 into his stable as a surprise? " 
 
 " Steele," says I, tappin' him encouragin' 
 on the knee, " you've got the spendin' part 
 down fine; but that alone don't fill the bill. As 
 I take it, Pyramid meant for us to do more than 
 just scatter around a lot of expensive gifts 
 reckless like. * Some kind and generous 
 act,' is the way he put it. Let's remember 
 that." 
 
 " But," says he, shruggin' his shoulders 
 eloquent, " here is a man who has everything 
 he wants, money enough to gratify every wish. 
 How am I to do anything kind and generous 
 for him? " 
 
 ' ' That 's all up to you, ' ' says I. " As a mat- 
 ter of fact, I don't believe there ever was any- 
 body, no matter how rich, who had everything 
 he wanted. There's always something, maybe 
 so simple as to sound absurd, that he'd like 
 and can't get. I'll bet it's that way with 
 Twombley-Crane. Now if you don't know him
 
 well enough to find out, my advice would be 
 
 " Oh, I know him well enough," breaks in 
 J. Bayard, " even if he doesn't know me. I 
 share the distinction with Gordon of having 
 been, on one occasion, barred out of Twombley- 
 Crane's office; only I got no farther than his 
 private secretary. It meant a good deal to me 
 at the time too, and wouldn't have hurt him 
 at all. I merely wanted his firm to handle some 
 bonds of a concern I was trying to promote. 
 With merely a nod he could have opened the 
 door of success for me. But he wouldn't. Oh, 
 no! Played the role of haughty aristocrat, as 
 usual, and never gave me another thought. But 
 I managed to get back at him, in a small 
 way." 
 
 " Oh, you did, eh? " says I. 
 
 " It was a couple of years later, in Paris," 
 goes on Steele. ** I was dining in one of those 
 big cafes Maxime's, I think, when I recog- 
 nized him at the next table. He was telling a 
 friend of a find he'd made in an old printshop, 
 a pencil sketch by Whistler. He collects 
 such things, I believe. Well, this was some- 
 thing he wanted very badly ; but he 'd happened 
 to be caught without cash enough to pay for it. 
 So he'd asked the dealer to put it aside until 
 next day. There was my chance. I know some- 
 thing about etchings; own a few, in fact, al- 
 though I'd never splurged on Whistlers. But 
 I was on hand next morning when that shop
 
 24 SHOETY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 opened, and for a bonus of twenty francs I per- 
 suaded the old pirate to sell me the sketch he 
 was holding for Twombley-Crane. It was a 
 beauty too; one of the half-dozen Whistler did 
 in working up that portrait of his mother, per- 
 haps his most famous piece. It's about the 
 only sketch of the kind, too, not in a public 
 gallery. How Twombley-Crane must have 
 raved at that Frenchman! So, as the English 
 put it, I did score off him a bit, you see." 
 
 " You sure did," says I. " That picture 
 collection is what he's daffy over; even more 
 so than over his horses. And right there, J. 
 Bayard, is your cue." 
 
 " Eh? " says he, starin' puzzled. 
 
 " Simple as swearin' off taxes," says I. 
 " Send him the sketch." 
 
 Mr. Steele gasps. "Wha-a-at!" says he. 
 " Why, I've been offered ten times what I paid 
 for it, and refused; although there have been 
 times when well, you understand. My dear 
 McCabe, that little pencil drawing is much 
 more to me than a fragment of genius. It 
 stands for satisfaction". It's something that I 
 own and he wants." 
 
 " And there you are," says I. " Been 
 rackin' your nut to dig up something kind and 
 generous to do for him, ain't you? Well? ' 
 
 Say, you should have seen the look J. Bayard 
 gives me at that! It's a mixture of seven dif- 
 f'rent kinds of surprise, reproach, and indig- 
 nation. And the line of argument he puts up
 
 A FEW SQUIRMS BY BAYARD 25 
 
 too ! How lie does wiggle and squirm over the 
 very thought of givin' that picture to Twom- 
 bley-Crane, after he'd done the gloat act so 
 long! 
 
 But I had the net over Mr. Steele good and 
 fast, and while I was about it I dragged him 
 over a few bumps ; just for the good of his soul, 
 as Father Reardon would say. 
 
 . " Oh, come! " says I. " You're makin' the 
 bluff that you want to scatter deeds of kind- 
 ness; but when I point one out, right under 
 your nose, you beef about it like you was bein' 
 frisked for your watch. A hot idea of bein' 
 an angel of mercy you've got, ain't you? Hon- 
 est now, in your whole career, was you ever 
 guilty of wastin' a kind word, or puttin' out 
 the helpin' hand, if you couldn't see where it 
 might turn a trick for J. Bayard Steele? ' 
 
 Makes him wince a little, that jab does, and 
 he flushes up under the eyes. 
 
 " I don't know that I have ever posed either 
 as a philanthropist or a saint," says he. " If 
 I seem to have assumed a role of that sort now, 
 it is because it has been thrust upon me, be- 
 cause I have been caught in a web of circum- 
 stances, a tangle of things, without purpose, 
 without meaning. That's what life has always 
 been to me, always will be, I suppose, a blind, 
 ruthless maze, where I've snatched what I could 
 for myself, and given up what I couldn't hold. 
 Your friend Gordon did his share in making it 
 so for me; this man Twombley-Crane as well.
 
 26 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 Do you expect me to be inspired with goodness 
 and kindliness by them? ' 
 
 " Oh, Pyramid had his good points," says I. 
 " You'd find Twombley-Crane has his, if you 
 knew him well enough." 
 
 " And who knows," adds Steele, defiant and 
 bitter, " but that I may have mine? " 
 
 I glances at him curious. And, say, with that 
 set, hard look in them narrow eyes, and the 
 saggy droop to his mouth corners, he's almost 
 pathetic. For the first time since he'd drifted 
 across my path I didn't feel like pitchin' him 
 down the stairs. 
 
 "Well, well!" says I soothin'. "Maybe 
 you have. But you don't force 'em on folks, 
 do you? That ain't the point, though. The 
 question before the house is about that " 
 
 " Suppose I hand back Twombley-Crane's 
 name," says he, " and try another? " 
 
 I shakes my head decided. " No dodgin'," 
 says I. " That point was covered in Pyramid's 
 gen'ral directions. If you do it at all, you got 
 to take the list as it runs. But what's a pic- 
 ture more or less? All you got to do is wrap 
 it up, ship it to Twombley-Crane, and " 
 
 " I I couldn't! " says J. Bayard, almost 
 groanin'. " Why, I've disliked him for years, 
 ever since he sent out that cold no! I've al- 
 ways hoped that something would happen to 
 bend that stiff neck of his; that a panic would 
 smash him, as I was smashed. But he has 
 gone on, growing richer and richer, colder and
 
 colder. And when I got this sketch away from 
 him well, that was a crumb of comfort. Don't 
 you see! " 
 
 " Kind of stale and picayune, Steele, it 
 strikes me," says I. " Course, you're the doc- 
 tor. If you'd rather see all them other folks 
 that you dislike come in for a hundred and 
 fifty thousand apiece, with no rakeoff for you 
 why, that's your business. But I'd think it 
 over. ' ' 
 
 " Ye-e-es," says he draggy. " I I suppose 
 I must." 
 
 With that he shakes his shoulders, gets on his 
 feet, and walks out with his chin well up ; leavin' 
 me feelin' like I'd been tryin' to wish a dose of 
 castor oil on a bad boy. 
 
 " Huh! " thinks I. "I wonder if Pyramid 
 guessed all he was lettin' me in for? " 
 
 What J. Bayard would decide to do drop 
 the whole shootin' match, or knuckle under in 
 this case in the hopes of gettin' a fat commis- 
 sion on the next was more'n I could dope out. 
 But inside of an hour I had the answer. A 
 messenger boy shows up with a package. It's 
 the sketch from Steele, with a note savin' I 
 might send it to Twombley-Crane, if that would 
 answer. He'd be hanged if he would! So I 
 rings up another boy and ships it down to 
 Twombley-Crane 's office, as the easiest way of 
 gettin' rid of it. I didn't know whether he was 
 in town or not. If he wa'n't, he'd find the thing 
 when he did come in. And while maybe that
 
 28 SHOKTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 don't quite cover all the specifications, it's near 
 enough so I can let it pass. Then I goes out 
 to lunch. 
 
 Must have been about three o'clock that 
 afternoon, and I'd just finished a session in the 
 gym, when who should show up at the studio 
 but Twombley-Crane. What do you suppose? 
 Why, in spite of the fact that I'd sent the pic- 
 ture without any name or anything, he'd been 
 so excited over gettin' it that he'd rung up the 
 messenger office and bluffed 'em into tellin' 
 where the call had come in from. And as long 
 as I'd known him I've never seen Twombley- 
 Crane thaw out so much. Why, he acts almost 
 human as he shakes hands ! Then he takes the 
 package from under his arm and unwraps it. 
 
 " The Whistler that I'd given up all hope of 
 ever getting! " says he, gazin' at it admirin' 
 and enthusiastic. 
 
 " So? " says I, noncommittal. 
 
 " And now it appears mysteriously, sent 
 from here," says he. " Why, my dear fellow, 
 how can I ever " 
 
 ' ' You don 't have to, " I breaks in, ' ' because 
 it wa'n't from me at all." 
 
 " But they told me at the district office," he 
 goes on, " that the call came from " 
 
 " I know," says I. " That's straight enough 
 as far as it goes. But you know that ain't in 
 my line. I was only passin' it on for someone 
 else." 
 
 " For whom? " he demands.
 
 " That's tellin','' says I. " It's a secret." 
 
 ' ' Oh, but I must know, ' ' says he, ' ' to whom 
 I am indebted so deeply. You don't realize, 
 McCabe, how delighted I am to get hold of this 
 gem of Whistler's. Why, it makes my collec- 
 tion the most complete to be found in any 
 private gallery! " 
 
 " Well, you ought to be satisfied then," says 
 I. " Why not let it go at that? " 
 
 But not him. No, he'd got to thank some- 
 body ; to pay 'em, if he could. 
 
 " How much, for instance? " says I. 
 
 " Why, I should readily have given five thou- 
 sand for it," says he; " ten, if necessary." 
 
 " Not fifteen? " says I. 
 
 ' ' I think I would, ' '. says he. 
 
 " Huh! " says I. " Some folks don't care 
 what they do with money. We'll split the dif- 
 f'rence though, and call it twelve and a half. 
 But it don't cost you a cent. It's yours be- 
 cause you wanted it, that's all; and maybe the 
 one that sent it is glad you've got it. That's a& 
 far as I can go." 
 
 " But see here, McCabe! " he insists. " De- 
 lighted as I am, I must know who it is that " 
 
 Just here the front office door opens, and in 
 walks J. Bayard. For a second he don't notice 
 Twombley-Crane, who's standin' between me 
 and the window. 
 
 " Oh, I say! " says Steele, sort of breathless 
 and hasty. " Have you sent that away yet? " 
 
 A freak hunch hit me and I couldn't shake it:
 
 30 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 I guess I wanted to see what would happen. So 
 I nudges Twombley-Crane. 
 
 " Here's the party now, if you must know," 
 says I. " This is Mr. J. Bayard Steele." 
 
 " Eh? " says he, steppin' forward. " Steele, 
 did you say? Why, my dear Sir, although I 
 must admit that I am stupid enough not to re- 
 member you, I must express my most " 
 
 Say, he did it handsome too. He grabs J. 
 Bayard brotherly by the mitt, and passes him 
 an enthusiastic vote of thanks that* don't leave 
 out a single detail. Yes, he sure did unload 
 the gratitude; with J. Bayard standin' there, 
 turnin' first one color and then another, and 
 not bein' able to get out a word. 
 
 ' * And surely, my . dear Sir, ' ' he winds up, 
 ' ' you will allow me to recompense you in some 
 way? " 
 
 Steele shakes his head. " It's not pre- 
 cisely," he begins, " as if I er " 
 
 "Ah-h-h!" says Twombley-Crane, beamin' 
 friendly. " I think I see. You had heard of 
 my collection." 
 
 J. Bayard nods. 
 
 " And you conceived the idea," goes on 
 Twombley-Crane, " of completing it in this 
 anonymous and kindly manner? Believe me, 
 Sir, I am touched, deeply touched. It is indeed 
 good to know that such generous impulses are 
 felt, that they are sometimes acted upon. I 
 must try to be worthy of such a splendid spirit. 
 I will have this hung at once, and to-morrow
 
 A FEW SQUIRMS BY BAYAED 31 
 
 night, Friend Steele, you must come to see it ; at 
 my country place, you know. We dine at seven. 
 I shall expect you, Sir." And with a final 
 brotherly grip he goes out. 
 
 " Well," says I to J. Bayard, " that's over, 
 ain't it? You've put across the genuine article. 
 How does it feel? " 
 
 He br.ushes his hand over his eyes sort of 
 dazed. " Really," says he, " I I don't know. 
 I was coming, as a matter of fact, to take the 
 sketch back. The more I thought it over, the 
 
 worse I But he was pleased, wasn't he? 
 
 And Twombley-Crane too ! I would not have 
 believed that he could act so decently." 
 
 ' ' Well, he believed it of you, ' ' says I. ' ' You 
 don't stand to lose so much either, by the way. 
 Here ! Wait until I write a voucher for twenty 
 per cent, of twelve thousand five hundred. His 
 figures, you know. There! Now you can col- 
 lect from Judson and call for name Number 
 Two."
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 PEEKING IN ON PEDDERS 
 
 WHO started that dope about Heaven givin* 
 us our relations but thanks be we can pick 
 friends to suit ourselves? Anyway, it's phony. 
 Strikes me we often have friends wished on us ; 
 sort of accumulate 'em by chance, as we do ap- 
 pendicitis, or shingles, or lawsuits. And at 
 best it's a matter of who you meet most, and 
 how. 
 
 Take J. Bayard Steele. Think I'd ever 
 hunted him out and extended the fraternal 
 grip, or him me? Not if everyone else in the 
 world was deaf and dumb and had the itch! 
 We're about as much alike in our tastes and 
 gen'ral run of ideas as Bill Taft and Bill Hay- 
 wood; about as congenial as our bull terrier 
 and the chow dog next door. Yet here we are, 
 him hailin' me as Shorty, and me callin' him 
 anything from J. B. to Old Top, and confabbin' 
 reg'lar most every day, as chummy as you 
 please. 
 
 All on account of our bein' mixed up in car- 
 ryin' out this batty will of Pyramid Gordon's. 
 First off I didn't think I'd have to see him 
 more'n once a month, and then only for a short 
 
 32
 
 PEEKING IN ON PEDDEBS 33 
 
 session ; but since he put through that first deal 
 and collected his twenty-four hundred com- 
 mission, he's been showin' up at the stu- 
 dio frequent, with next to no excuse for 
 comin'. 
 
 You remember how he drew Twombley- 
 Crane as the first one that he had to unload a 
 kind and gen'rous act on, and how I made him 
 give up the picture that he'd gloated over so 
 long? Well, J. Bayard can't seem to get over 
 the way that turned out. Here he 'd been forced 
 into doin' something nice for a party he had a 
 grudge against, has discovered that Twombley- 
 Crane ain't such a bad lot after all, and has 
 been well paid for it besides, out of money left 
 by his old enemy. 
 
 " Rather a remarkable set of circumstances, 
 eh, Shorty? " says he, tiltin' back comf 'table 
 in one of my front office chairs and lightin' up 
 a fresh twenty-five-cent cigar. " An instance 
 of virtue being rewarded on a cash basis. Not 
 only that, but I was royally entertained down 
 at Twombley- Crane's the other night, you 
 know. I think too I interested him in a little 
 development scheme of mine. ' ' 
 
 " Jump off ! " says I. " You're standin' 
 on your foot. If you dream you can slip 
 any of your fake stock onto him, you're due 
 to wake up. Better stick to widows and 
 orphans." 
 
 At which jab Mr. Steele only chuckles easy. 
 " What an engagingly frank person you are! "
 
 34 SHOETY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 says he. " As though rich widows weren't fair 
 game! But with the practice of philanthropy 
 so liberally compensated I'm not troubling 
 them. Your friend, the late Mr. Gordon, has 
 banished the wolf from my door; for the im- 
 mediate present, at least. I wonder if he an- 
 ticipated just how much I should enjoy his post- 
 mortem munificence? " 
 
 And here J. Bayard gives a caressin' pat to 
 his Grand Duke whiskers and glances approvin' 
 down at the patent leathers which finish off a 
 costume that's the last word in afternoon ele- 
 gance. You've seen a pet cat stretch himself 
 luxurious after a full meal? Well, that's J. 
 Bayard. He'd hypothecated the canary. If he 
 hadn't been such a dear friend of mine too, I 
 could have kicked him hearty. 
 
 " Say, you're a wonder, you are! " says I. 
 " But I expect if your kind was common, all 
 the decent people would be demandin' to be 
 jailed, out of self-respect." 
 
 Another chuckle from J. Bayard. " Is that 
 envy," says he, " or merely epigram? But at 
 least we will agree that our ethical standards 
 vary. You scorn mine; I find yours curiously 
 entertaining. The best thing about you is that 
 you seem to bring me good luck." 
 
 " Don't trust that too far," says I. "I'm 
 neither hump-backed, nor a live Billiken. How 
 soon are you going to start on proposition Num- 
 ber Two? " 
 
 "Ah!" says he, straightenin'. "That is
 
 35 
 
 the real business of the moment, isn't it! As 
 a matter of fact, I was just about to seek your 
 valuable advice on the subject." 
 
 "Shoot it, then," says I. "Who's the 
 party! " 
 
 He explores his inside pockets, fishes out an 
 envelop, and inspects it deliberate. It's sealed; 
 but he makes no move to open it. " My next 
 assignment in altruism," says he, holdin' it to 
 the light. " Eich man, poor man, beggar man, 
 thief I wonder? " 
 
 " Ah, come! " says I, handin' him a paper 
 knife. 
 
 " But there's no need for haste," says J. 
 Bayard. " Just consider, Shorty: In this en- 
 velop is the name of some individual who was 
 the victim of injustice, large or small, at the 
 hands of Pyramid Gordon, someone who got in 
 his way, perhaps years ago. Now I am to do 
 something that will offset that old injury. 
 While the name remains unread, we have a bit 
 of mystery, an unknown adventure ahead of us, 
 perhaps. And that, my dear McCabe, is the 
 salt of life." 
 
 " Say, you ought to take that lecture out on 
 the Chautauqua," says I. " Get busy slit or 
 quit!" 
 
 " Very well," says he, jabbin' the knife un- 
 der the flap. " To discover the identity of the 
 next in line! " 
 
 " Well? " says I, as he stares at the slip of 
 paper. " Who do you pluck this time? "
 
 36 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 11 An enigma, so far as I am concerned," 
 says he. ' ' Listen : ' John Wesley Pedders, in 
 1894 cashier of the Merchants' Exchange Bank, 
 at Tullington, Connecticut.' Ever hear of such 
 a person, Shorty? ' 
 
 " Not me," says I, " nor the place either." 
 
 " Then it remains to be discovered first," 
 says Steele, " whether for twenty years Ped- 
 ders has stayed put or not. Haven't a Path- 
 finder handy, have you ? Never mind, there are 
 plenty at the hotel. And if to-morrow is such 
 another fine spring day as this, I'll run up 
 there. I'll let you know the results later; and 
 then, my trusty colleague, we will plot joy- 
 ously for the well-being of John "Wesley Ped- 
 ders." 
 
 " Huh! " says I. " Don't try to pull any 
 steam yachts or French limousines on me this 
 time. The kind stuff goes, remember." 
 
 " To your acute sense of fitness in such mat- 
 ters, McCabe," says he, "I bow profoundly," 
 and with a jaunty wave of his hand he drifts 
 out. 
 
 Honest, compared to the shifty-eyed, suspi- 
 cious-actin' party that blew into my studio a 
 few weeks back, he seems like a kid on a Coney 
 Island holiday. I expect it's the prospects of 
 easy money that's chirked him up so; but he 
 sure is a misfit to be subbin' on a deeds-of-kind- 
 ness job. That ain't my lookout, though. All 
 I got to do is pass on his plans and see that 
 he carries 'em out accordin' to specifications.
 
 PEEKING IN ON PEDDEES 37 
 
 So I don't even look up this tank station on the 
 map. 
 
 A couple of days go by, three, and no bulletin 
 from J. Bayard. Then here the other mornin' 
 I gets a long distance call. It's from Steele. 
 
 " Eh? " says I. "Where the blazes are 
 you? " 
 
 " Tullington," says he. 
 
 "Oh!" says I. "Still there, are you? 
 Found Pedders? " 
 
 " Ye-e-es," says he; " but I am completely 
 at a loss to know what to do for him. I say, 
 McCabe, couldn't you run up here? It's a cu- 
 rious situation, and I well, I need your advice 
 badly. There 's a train at eleven-thirty that con- 
 nects at Danbury. Couldn't you? " 
 
 Well, I hadn't figured on bein' any travelin' 
 inspector when I took this executor job ; but as 
 J. Bayard sends out the S S so strong I 
 can't very well duck. Besides, I might have 
 been a little int 'rested to know what he'd 
 dug up. 
 
 So about three-fifteen that afternoon finds 
 me pilin' off a branch accommodation at Tul- 
 lington. Mr. Steele is waitin' on the platform 
 to meet me, silk lid and all. 
 
 " What about Pedders? " says I. 
 
 " I want you to see him first," says J. Bay- 
 ard. 
 
 " On exhibition, is he? " says I. 
 
 " In a town of this size," says he, " everyone 
 is on exhibition continuously. It's the penalty
 
 38 SHOETY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 one pays for being rural, I suppose. I've been 
 here only two days; but I'll venture to say that 
 most of the inhabitants know me by name and 
 have made their guess as to what my business 
 here may be. It's the most pitiless kind of pub- 
 licity I ever experienced. But come on up to 
 the postoffice, and I'll show you Pedders." 
 
 " Fixture there, is he? " says I. 
 
 " Twice a day he comes for the mail," says 
 J. Bayard. " Your train brought it up. He'll 
 be on hand." 
 
 So we strolls up Main street from the sta- 
 tion, while Steele points out the brass works, 
 the carpet mill, the opera house, and Judge 
 Hanks' slate-roofed mansion. It sure is a jay 
 burg, but a lively one. Oh, yes! Why, the 
 Ladies' Aid Society was holdin' a cake sale in a 
 vacant store next to the Bijou movie show, and 
 everybody was decoratin' for a firemen's 
 parade to be pulled off next Saturday. We 
 struck the postoffice just as they brought the 
 mail sacks up in a pushcart and dragged 'em 
 in through the front door. 
 
 " There he is," says Steele, nudgin' me, 
 * ' over in the corner by the writing shelf ! ' : 
 
 What he points out is a long-haired, gray- 
 whiskered old guy, with a faded overcoat slung 
 over his shoulders like a cape, and an old slouch 
 hat pulled down over his eyes. He's standin' 
 there as still and quiet as if his feet was stuck 
 to the floor. 
 
 " Kind of a seedy old party, eh? " says I.
 
 PEEKING IN ON PEDDERS 39 
 
 " Why not? " says J. Bayard. " He's an 
 ex-jailbird." 
 
 " You don't say ! " says I. " What brand? " 
 
 " Absconder," says he. ll Got away with 
 a hundred and fifty thousand from the local 
 bank." 
 
 "Well, well!" says I. "Didn't spend it 
 dollin' himself up, did he? " 
 
 " Oh, all that happened twenty years ago," 
 
 says Steele. * ' The odd part of it is, though 
 
 But come over to the hotel, where I can tell you 
 the whole story." 
 
 And, say, he had a tale, all right. Seems 
 Pedders had been one of the leadin' citizens, 
 cashier of the bank, pillar of the church, mem- 
 ber of the town council, and all that, with a 
 wife who was a social fav'rite, and a girl that 
 promised to be a beauty when she grew up. 
 The Pedders never tried to cut any gash, 
 though. They lived simple and respectable and 
 happy. About the only wild plunge the neigh- 
 bors ever laid up against him was when he paid 
 out ten dollars once for some imported tulip 
 bulbs. 
 
 Then all of a sudden it was discovered that 
 a bunch of negotiable securities had disap- 
 peared from the bank vaults. The arrow 
 pointed straight to Pedders. He denied ; but he 
 couldn't explain. He just shut up like a clam, 
 and let 'em do their worst. He got ten years. 
 Before he was put away they tried to make him 
 confess, or give 'em some hint as to what he'd
 
 40 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 done with the bonds. But there was nothhi' 
 doin' in that line. He just stood pat and took 
 his medicine. 
 
 Bein' a quiet prisoner, that gave no trouble 
 and kept his cell tidy, he scaled it down a couple 
 of years. Nobody looked for him to come back 
 to Tullington after he got loose. They all had 
 it doped out that he 'd salted away that hundred 
 and fifty thousand somewhere, and would pro- 
 ceed to dig it up and enjoy it where he wa'n't 
 known. 
 
 But Pedders fooled 'em again. Straight back 
 from the bars he come, back to Tullington and 
 the little white story-and-a-half cottage on a 
 side street, where Mrs. Pedders and Luella was 
 waitin' for him. 
 
 She'd had some hand-to-hand tussle mean- 
 while, Mrs. Pedders had; but she'd stuck it out 
 noble. At the start about nine out of ten of 
 her neighbors and kind friends was dead sure 
 she knew where that bunch of securities was 
 stowed, and some of 'em didn't make any bones 
 of sayin' she ought to be in jail along with Ped- 
 ders. So of course that made it nice and comfy 
 for her all around. But she opened up a little 
 millinery shop in her front parlor, and put up 
 jams and jellies, and raised a few violets under 
 a window sash in the back yard. She didn't 
 quite starve that first year or so; though no- 
 body knew just how close she shaved it. And 
 in time even them that had been her closest 
 friends begun to be sorry for her.
 
 PEEKING IN ON PEDDERS 41 
 
 When Pedders showed up again all the old 
 stories was hashed over, and the whole of Tul- 
 lington held its breath watchin' for some sign 
 that he's dug up his bank loot. But it didn't 
 come. Pedders just camped down silent in his 
 old home and let his whiskers grow. Twice a 
 day he made reg'lar trips back and forth from 
 the postoffice, lookin' at nobody, speakin' to 
 nobody. Mrs. Pedders held her usual fall and 
 spring openin's of freak millinery, while Luella 
 taught in the fourth grade of the grammar 
 school and gave a few piano lessons on the side. 
 They didn't act like a fam'ly that had buried 
 treasure. 
 
 But what had he done with that hundred and 
 fifty thousand? How could he have blown so 
 much without even acquirin' a toddy blossom? 
 Or had he scattered it in the good old way, 
 buckin' Wall Street? But he'd never seemed 
 like that kind. No, they didn't think he had 
 the nerve to take a chance on a turkey raffle. 
 So that left the mystery deeper 'n ever. 
 
 " No chance of him bein' not guilty to begin 
 with, eh? " I suggests. 
 
 J. Bayard smiles cynical. " So far as I am 
 able to learn," says he, " there is just one per- 
 son, aside from Mrs. Pedders and her daughter, 
 who believes him innocent. Strangely enough 
 too, that's Norris, who was teller at the time. 
 He's president of the bank now. I had a talk 
 with him this morning. He insists that Ped- 
 ders was too honest to touch a dollar; says he
 
 42 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 knew him too well. But he offers no explana- 
 tion as to where the securities went. So there 
 you are ! Everyone else regards him as a con- 
 victed thief, who scarcely got his just deserts. 
 He's a social outcast, and a broken, spiritless 
 wretch besides. How can I do anything kind 
 and generous for such a man I ' 
 
 Well, I didn't know any more'n he did. 
 " What gets me," I goes on, " is how he ever 
 come to be mixed up with Pyramid Gordon. 
 Got that traced out? " 
 
 " I sounded Norris on that point," says 
 Steele; " but he'd never heard of Gordon's hav- 
 ing been in Tullington, and was sure Pedders 
 didn't know him." 
 
 11 Then you ain't had a talk with Pedders 
 himself? " says I. 
 
 " Why, no," says J. Bayard, shruggin' his 
 shoulders scornful. " The poor devil! I didn't 
 see what good it would do an ex-convict, 
 and " 
 
 " You can't always be dealin' with Twom- 
 bley-Cranes," I breaks in. " And it's Pedders 
 you're after this trip. Come on. Let's go 
 tackle him." 
 
 " What ! Now? " says Steele, liftin' his eye- 
 brows. 
 
 " Ah, you ain't plannin' to spend the sum- 
 mer here, are you? " says I. " Besides, it'll do 
 you good to learn not to shy at a man just be- 
 cause he's done time. Show us the house." 
 
 I could have put it even stronger to him, if
 
 43 
 
 I'd wanted to rub it in. Had about as much 
 sympathy for a down-and-out, Steele did, as 
 you'd find milk in a turnip. You should see the 
 finicky airs he puts on as he follows me into 
 the Pedders cottage, and sniffs at the worn, 
 old-fashioned furniture in the sittin* room. 
 
 It's Mrs. Pedders that comes in from the 
 shop to greet us. Must have been quite a good 
 looker once, from the fine face and the still 
 slim figure. But her hair has been frosted up 
 pretty well, and there's plenty of trouble lines 
 around the eyes. No, we couldn't see Mr. Ped- 
 ders. She was sorry, but he didn't see anyone. 
 If there was any business, perhaps she 
 could 
 
 " Maybe you can," says I; " although it 
 ain't exactly business, either. It's a delayed 
 boost we're agents for; friendly, and all that." 
 
 " I I don't believe I understand," says she. 
 
 ''We'll get to that later on," says I, "if 
 you'll take our word and help. What we're 
 tryin' to get a line on first off is where and how 
 Mr. Pedders run against Pyramid Gordon." 
 
 " Gordon? " says she. " I don't think I 
 ever heard him mention the name." 
 
 " Think 'way back, then," says I, " back be- 
 fore he was before he had his trouble." 
 
 She tried, but couldn't dig it up. We was 
 still on the subject when in floats Daughter. 
 She's one of these nice, sweet, sensible lookin' 
 girls, almost vergin' on the old maid. She'd 
 just come home from her school. The case was
 
 44 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 explained to her; but she don't remember 
 hearin' the name either. 
 
 " You see, I was only nine at the time," says 
 she, " and there was so much going on, and 
 Papa was so upset about all those letters." 
 
 11 Which letters? " says I. 
 
 " Oh, the people who wrote to him during 
 the trial," says she. " You've no idea hun- 
 dreds and hundreds of letters, from all over 
 the country; from strangers, you know, who'd 
 read that he was well, an absconder. They 
 were awful letters. I think that's what hurt 
 Papa most, that people were so ready to con- 
 demn him before he'd had a chance to show 
 that he didn't do it. He would just sit at his 
 old desk there by the hour, reading them over, 
 and everyone seemed like another pound loaded 
 on his poor shoulders. The letters kept coming 
 long after he was sent away. There's a whole 
 boxful in the garret that have never been 
 opened." 
 
 ' ' And he never shall see them ! ' ' announced 
 Mrs. Pedders emphatic. 
 
 ' ' H-m-m-m ! ' ' says I. ' ' A whole boxful that 
 nobody's opened? But suppose now that some 
 of 'em wa'n't say, why not take a look at the 
 lot, just the outsides? " 
 
 Neither Mrs. Pedders nor Luella took kind 
 to that proposition; but somehow I had a 
 vague hunch it ought to be done. I couldn't say 
 exactly why, either. But I kept urgin' and 
 arguin', and at last they gave in. They'd show
 
 PEEKING IN ON PEDDERS 45 
 
 me the outsides, anyway; that is, Luella might, 
 if she wanted to. Mrs. Pedders didn't even 
 want to see the box. 
 
 " I meant to have burned them long ago," 
 says she. " They're just letters from idle, 
 cruel people, that's all. And you don't know 
 how many such there are in the world, Mr. Mc- 
 Cabe. I hope you never will know. But go up 
 with Luella if you wish." 
 
 So we did, J. Bayard glancin' suspicious at 
 the dust and cobwebs and protectin' his silk 
 hat and clothes cautiously. It's a good-sized 
 box too, with a staple and padlock to keep the 
 cover down. Luella hunted up the key and 
 handed out bunch after bunch. Why do people 
 want to write to parties they've read about in 
 the newspapers? What's the good too, of 
 jumpin' on bank wreckers and such at long 
 range? Why, some even let their spite slop 
 over on the envelopes. To see such a lot of 
 letters, and think how many hard thoughts they 
 stood for, almost gave you chills on the spine. 
 
 Didn't seem to do much good to paw 'em 
 over now, at this late date, either. I was almost 
 givin' up my notion and tellin' Luella that 
 would be about enough, when I noticed a long 
 yellow document envelope stowed away by it- 
 self in a corner. 
 
 " There's a fat one," says I. 
 
 She hands it out mechanical, as she'd done 
 the rest. 
 
 "Hello!" says I, glancin ' at the corner.
 
 46 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 "Gordon & Co., Broad Street, New York! 
 Why, say, that's the Pyramid Gordon I was 
 askin' about." 
 
 " Is it? " says she. " I hadn't noticed." 
 
 " Might give us some clew," I goes on, " as 
 to what him and your Paw had a run-in about." 
 
 ' ' Well, open it, if you like, ' ' says Luella care- 
 less. 
 
 J. Bayard and I takes it over to the window 
 and inspects the cancel date. 
 
 " June, 1894," says I. " Twenty-eight cents 
 postage; registered too. Quite a package. 
 Well, here goes! " 
 
 " Bonds," says Steele, takin' a look. " That 
 old Water Level Development Company's too." 
 
 " And here's a note inside," says I. " Read 
 it." 
 
 It was to John Wesley Pedders, cashier of 
 the Merchants' Exchange Bank, from Mr. Gor- 
 don. " In depositing securities for a loan, on 
 my recent visit to your bank," it runs on, " I 
 found I had brought the wrong set; so I took 
 the liberty, without consulting your president, 
 of substituting, for a few days, a bundle of 
 blanks. I am now sending by registered mail 
 the proper bonds, which you may file. Trust- 
 ing this slight delay has caused you no incon- 
 venience, I am " 
 
 " The old fox! " cuts in J. Bayard. " A fair 
 sample of his methods ! Had to have a loan on 
 those securities, and wanted to use them some- 
 where else at the same time; so he picked
 
 PEEKING IN ON PEDDEKS 47 
 
 out this little country bank to work the deal 
 through. Oh, that was Pyramid Gordon, every 
 time ! And calmly allowed a poor cashier to go 
 to State's prison for it! ' ; 
 
 " Not Pyramid," says I. "I don't believe 
 he ever heard a word of the trouble." 
 
 " Then why did he put Pedders' name on Ms 
 list? " demands Steele. 
 
 " Maybe he thought sendin' on the bonds 
 would clear up the mess," says I. " So it 
 would, if they hadn't come a day or two late 
 and got stowed away here. And here they've 
 been for twenty years ! ' ' 
 
 " Yes, and quite as valuable to the bank as if 
 they'd been in the vaults," sneers J. Bayard. 
 ' ' That Water Level stock never was worth the 
 paper it was printed on, any more than it is 
 now. ' ' 
 
 " "We'll make it useful, then," says I. 
 " Why, it's got Aladdin's lamp beat four ways 
 for Wednesday! These bonds go to Pedders. 
 Then Pedders shaves off his whiskers, puts on 
 his Sunday suit, braces his shoulders back, 
 walks down to the bank, and chucks this bunch 
 of securities at 'em triumphant." 
 
 " But if the bank is still out a hundred and 
 fifty thousand," objects Steele, " I don't see 
 how " 
 
 " They ain't out a cent," says I. " We'll 
 find a customer for these bonds." 
 
 "Who? " says he. 
 
 " J. Bayard Steele," says I. "Ain't you
 
 48 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 actin' for a certain party that would have 
 wanted it done? " 
 
 " By Jove! " says he. " Shorty, you've hit 
 it! Why, I'd never have thought of " 
 
 " No," says I; " you're still seein' only that 
 twenty per cent, commission. Well, you get 
 that. But I want to see the look in Mrs. Ped- 
 ders' eyes when she hears the news." 
 
 Say, it was worth makin' a way train trip to 
 Tullington, believe me ! 
 
 11 I knew," says she. " Oh, I always have 
 known John didn 't do it ! And now others will 
 know. Oh, I'm glad, so glad! " 
 
 Even brought a slight dew to them shifty 
 eyes of J. Bayard's, that little scene did. " Mc- 
 Cabe," says he, as we settles ourselves in the 
 night express headed towards Broadway, " this 
 isn't such a bad game, after all, is it? "
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 TWO SINGLES TO GOOBEE 
 
 " SHORTY/' says Sadie, hangin' up the 
 'phone and turnin' to me excited, " what do 
 you think 1 Young Hollister is back in town ! ' ' 
 
 " So are lots of other folks," says I, " and 
 more comin' every day." 
 
 " But you know he promised to stay away," 
 she goes on, " and his mother will feel dread- 
 fully about it when she hears." 
 
 " I know," says I. " And a livelier widow 
 never hailed from Peachtree street, Atlanta; 
 which is sayin' a lot. Who sends in this bul- 
 letin about Sonny? " 
 
 " Purdy-Pell," says Sadie, " and he doesn't 
 know what to do." 
 
 11 Never does," says I. 
 
 Sadie flickers a grin. " It seems Eobin came 
 two days ago, and has hardly been seen about 
 the house since. Besides, Purdy-Pell could do 
 nothing with him when he was here before, you 
 remember." 
 
 " Awful state of things, ain't it? " says I. 
 " The youngster's all of nineteen, ain't he! " 
 
 " He's nearly twenty-one," says Sadie. 
 11 And Mrs. Hollister 's such a dear! " 
 
 49
 
 50 SHOETY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 " All of which leads up to what? " says I, 
 tearin' my eyes from the sportin' page reluc- 
 tant. 
 
 " Why," says Sadie, cuddlin' up on the chair 
 arm, " Purdy-Pell suggests that, as Robin ap- 
 peared to take such a fancy to you, perhaps you 
 wouldn't mind " 
 
 " Say," I breaks in, " he's a perfectly punk 
 suggester! I'd mind a lot! " 
 
 Course that opened the debate, and while I 
 begins by statin' flat-footed that Robin could 
 come or go for all I cared, it ends in the usual 
 compromise. I agrees to take the eight-forty- 
 five into town and skirmish for Sonny. He'd 
 be almost sure to show up at Purdy-Pell 's to- 
 night, Sadie says, and if I was on hand I might 
 induce him to quit wreckin' the city and be 
 good. 
 
 " Shouldn't I wear a nurse's cap and 
 apron? " I remarks as I grabs my hat. 
 
 For, honest, so far as I've ever seen, this 
 young Hollister was a nice, quiet, peaceable 
 chap, with all the earmarks of a perfect gent. 
 He'd been brought up from the South and put 
 into Purdy-Pell 's offices, and he'd made a fair 
 stab at holdin' down his job. But of course, 
 bein' turned loose in New York for the first 
 time, I expect he went out now and then to see 
 what was goin' on under the white lights. 
 
 From some youngsters that might have called 
 for such panicky protests as Mother and Mrs. 
 Purdy-Pell put up; but young Robin had a
 
 TWO SINGLES TO GOOBER 51 
 
 good head on him, and didn't act like he meant 
 to develop into a rounder. Course I didn't hear 
 the details ; but all of a sudden something hap- 
 pened that caused a grand howl. I know Sadie 
 was consulted, then Mrs. Hollister was sent for, 
 and it ended by Robin mar chin' into the studio 
 one mornin' to say good-by. He explains that 
 he's bein' shipped home. They'd got a job for 
 him with an uncle out in the country some- 
 where. That must have been a year or so ago, 
 and now it looked like he'd slipped his halter 
 and had headed back for Broadway. 
 
 I finds Purdy-Pell peeved and sarcastic. 
 " To be sure," he says, " I feel honored that 
 the young man should make my house his head- 
 quarters whenever his fancy leads him to in- 
 dulge his sportive instincts. Youth must be 
 served, you know. But Mrs. Hollister has such 
 a charmingly unreasonable way of holding me 
 responsible for her son's conduct! And since 
 she happens just now to be our guest well, you 
 get the idea, McCabe." 
 
 " What do you think he's up to? " says I. 
 
 Purdy-Pell shrugs his shoulders. "If he 
 were the average youth, one might guess," says 
 he; " but Robin Hollister is different. His 
 mother is a Pitt Medway, one of the Georgia 
 Medways." 
 
 " You don't say! " says I. I expect I ought 
 to know just how a Georgia Medway differs 
 from a New Jersey Medway, or the Connecti- 
 cut brand; but, sad to say, I don't. Purdy-
 
 52 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 Pell, though, havin' been raised in the South 
 himself, seems to think that everyone ought to 
 know the traits of all the leadin' f am 'lies be- 
 tween the Potomac and the Chattahoochee. 
 
 " Last time, you know," goes on Purdy-Pell, 
 " it was a Miss Maggie Toots, a restaurant 
 cashier, and a perfectly impossible person. We 
 broke that up, though." 
 
 " Ye-e-es? " says I. 
 
 " Eobin's mother seemed to think then," 
 says he, " that it was largely my fault. I 
 suppose she'll feel the same about whatever 
 mischief he's in now. If I could only find the 
 young scamp! But really I haven't time. I'm 
 an hour late at the Boomer Days' as it is." 
 
 " Then toddle along," says I. " If I'm 
 unanimously elected to do this kid-reformin' 
 act, I expect I might as well get busy. ' ' 
 
 So as soon as the butler's through loadin' 
 Purdy-Pell into the limousine I cross-examines 
 Jarvis about young Mr. Hollister's motions. 
 Yes, he'd shown up at the house both nights. 
 It might have been late, perhaps quite late. 
 Then this afternoon he'd 'phoned to have his 
 evenin' clothes sent uptown by messenger. No, 
 he couldn't remember the number, or the name 
 of the hotel. 
 
 " Ah, come, Jarvis! " says I. " We know 
 you're strong for the young man, and all that. 
 But this is for the best. Dig it up now! You 
 must have put the number down at the time. 
 Where's the 'phone pad? "
 
 TWO SINGLES TO GOOBEE 53 
 
 He produces it, blank. " You see, Sir," says 
 he, " I tore off the leaf and gave it to the mes- 
 senger." 
 
 " But you're a heavy writer, ain't you! " 
 says I. " Find me a readin' glass." 
 
 And, sure enough, by holdin' the pad under 
 the big electrolier in the lib'ry, we could trace 
 out the address. 
 
 " Huh! " says I. " The Maison Maxixe, one 
 of them new trot palaces! Ring up a taxi, 
 Jarvis. ' ' 
 
 Didn't happen to be up around there yourself 
 that night, did you? If you had, you couldn't 
 missed seein' him, the old guy with the Dixie 
 lid and the prophet's beard, and the snake- 
 killer staff in his fist, for with that gold and 
 green entrance as a background, and in all 
 that glare of electric lights, he was some promi- 
 nent. 
 
 Sort of a cross between Father Time and 
 Santa Glaus, he looks like, with his bumper crop 
 of white alfalfa, his rosy cheeks, and his husky 
 build. Also he's attired in a wide-brimmed 
 black felt hat, considerable dusty, and a long 
 black coat with a rip in the shoulder seam. I 
 heard a couple of squabs just ahead of me gig- 
 gle, and one of 'em gasps : 
 
 ' ' Heavings, Lulu ! Will you lamp the movie 
 grandpop! I wonder if them lambrequins are 
 real? " 
 
 She says it loud enough to be heard around 
 on Broadway, and I looks to see how the old boy
 
 54 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 takes it; but lie keeps right on beamin' mild 
 and sort of curious at the crowds pushin' in. It 
 was them calm, gentle old blue eyes of his, 
 gazin' steady, like he was lookin' for someone, 
 that caught me. First thing, I knew he was 
 smilin' folksy straight at me, and liftin' one 
 hand hesitating as if he wanted to give me the 
 hail. 
 
 11 Well, old scout? " says I, haltin' on the 
 first step. 
 
 11 Excuse me, Neighbor," says he, drawlin' it 
 out deep and soft, " but be yo' goin' in 
 thayah? " 
 
 " I don't say it boastin'," says I, " but that 
 was the intention." 
 
 " We-e-e-ell," he drawls, half chucklin', half 
 sing-songy, " I wisht I could get you to kind 
 of look around for a young fellah in thayah, 
 sort of a well favored, upstandin' young man, 
 straight as a cornstalk, and with his front haiah 
 a little wavy. Would you? ' 
 
 ' ' I might find fifty that would answer to that 
 description," says I. 
 
 " No, Suh, I reckon not," says he, waggin' 
 his noble old head. " Not fifty like him, nor 
 one ! He '11 have his chin up, Suh, and there '11 
 be a twinkle in his brown eyes you can't mis- 
 take." 
 
 " Maybe so," says I. "I'll scout around a 
 bit. And if I find him, what then? " 
 
 " Jes' give him the word, Neighbor," says 
 he, " that Uncle Noah's a waitin' outside,
 
 TWO SINGLES TO GOOBEE 55 
 
 wantin' to see him a minute when he gets 
 through. He'll understand, Eobin will." 
 
 " Eh! " says I. " Eobin who! " 
 
 " Young Mistuh Hollister I should say, 
 Suh," says he. 
 
 "Well, well!" says I, gawpin' at him. 
 " You lookin' for Eobin Hollister too? Why, 
 so am I! " 
 
 " Then we ought to find him between us, 
 hadn't we? " says he, smilin' friendly. 
 " Lott's my name, Suh." 
 
 " Wha-a-at! " says I, grinnin' broad as the 
 combination strikes me. " Not Uncle Noah 
 Lott? " 
 
 "It's a powerful misleadin' name, I got to 
 admit," says he, returnin' the grin; " but I 
 reckon my folks didn't figure jes' how it was 
 goin' to sound when they tacked the Noah onto 
 me, or else they didn't allow for my growin' 
 up so simple. But I've had it so long I'm used 
 to it, and so is most everyone else down in my 
 part of Jawgy. ' ' 
 
 " Ah! " says I. " Then you're from 
 Georgia, eh? Down where they sent Eobin, I 
 expect? " 
 
 " That's right," says he. "I'm from 
 Goober." 
 
 " Goober! " I echoes. " Say, that's a choice 
 one too! No wonder Eobin couldn't stand it! 
 Sent you up to fetch him back, did they? ' 
 
 " No, Suh," says he. " Mistuh Phil Hollis- 
 ter didn't send me at all. I jes' come, Suh, and
 
 56 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 I can't say if I'm goin' to carry him back or 
 no. You see it's like this: Robin, he's a good 
 boy. We set a heap by him, we do. And Robin 
 was doin' well, keepin' the bale books, lookin' 
 after the weighin', and takin' general charge 
 around the cotton gin. Always had a good 
 word for me in the mornin' when I hands over 
 the keys, me bein' night watchman, Suh. 
 ' Well, Uncle Noah,' it would be, ' didn't let 
 anybody steal presses, did you? ' * No, 
 Mistuh Robin,' I'd say, ' didn't lose nary press 
 last night, and only part of the smokestack.' 
 We was that way, me and Robin. And when 
 Mistuh Phil and his folks started off to visit 
 their married daughter, up in Richmond, he 
 says to me, ' Uncle Noah, I expect you to look 
 after Robin while I'm gone, and see that he 
 don't git into no trouble.' Them was his very 
 words, Suh." 
 
 " And Robin's kept you busy, eh? " says I. 
 
 " Well, he's a good boy, Robin is," insists 
 Uncle Noah. " I reckon it took him sort of 
 sudden, this wantin' to leave Goober. Just had 
 to come to New York, it seems like. I dunno 
 what for, and I ain't askin'; only I promised 
 his Uncle Phil I'd see he didn't git. into no 
 trouble, and well, I'm a waitin' around, you 
 see, waitin' around." 
 
 " How'd you come to locate him, Uncle? ' 
 :says I. 
 
 " We-e-ell/' says he, " I reckon I shouldn't 
 ;a done it nohow, but he left the envelope to her
 
 TWO SINGLES TO GOOBER 57 
 
 letter on his desk, a Miss Toots it come from, 
 and the address was on the back. It was di- 
 rectly afterwards that Robin quits Goober so 
 sudden." 
 
 " Ah-ha! " says I. " Maggie Toots again, 
 eh? " 
 
 Looked like the myst'ry was solved too, and 
 while I wa'n't plannin' to restrict any inter- 
 state romance, or throw the switch on love's 
 young dream, I thought as long as I'd gone this 
 far I might as well take a look. 
 
 " Maybe he'll be too busy to receive any 
 home delegation just now, ' ' says I ; " but if you 
 want to stick around while I do a little scoutin* 
 inside, Uncle, I'll be out after a bit." 
 
 " I'll be a waitin'," says Uncle Noah, smilin' 
 patient, and I leaves him backed up against the 
 front of the buildin' with his hands crossed 
 peaceful on the top of his home-made walkin' 
 stick. 
 
 It's some giddy push I gets into after I've 
 put up my dollar for a ballroom ticket and 
 crowded in where a twenty-piece orchestra was 
 busy with the toe-throbby stuff. And there's 
 such a mob on the floor and along the side lines 
 that pickin' out one particular young gent 
 seems like a hopeless job. 
 
 I drifts around, though, elbowin' in and out, 
 gettin' glared at by fat old dames, and bein* 
 bumped by tangoin' couples, until I finds a spot 
 in a corner where I could hang up and have a 
 fair view. About then someone blows a whistle,
 
 58 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 and out on the platform in front of the or- 
 chestra appears a tall, bullet-headed, pimple- 
 faced young gent, wearin' white spats with his 
 frock-coat costume, and leadin' by the hand a 
 zippy young lady who 's attired mostly in black 
 net and a pair of gauze wings growin' out be- 
 tween her shoulder blades. It's announced that 
 they will do a fancy hesitation. 
 
 Take it from me, I never saw it danced like 
 that before! It was more'n a dance: it was an 
 acrobatic act, an assault with intent to maim, 
 and other things we won't talk about. The 
 careless way that young sport tossed around 
 this party with the gauze wings was enough to 
 make you wonder what .was happenin ' to her 
 wishbone. First he'd swing her round with her 
 head bent back until her barrette almost 
 scraped the floor; then he'd yank her up, toss 
 her in the air, and let her trickle graceful down 
 his shirt front, like he was a human stair rail. 
 Next, as the music hit the high spots, they'd go 
 to a close clinch, and whirl and dip and pivot 
 until she breaks loose, takes a flyin' leap, and 
 lands shoulder high in his hands, while he walks 
 around with her like she was something he was 
 bringin' in on a tray. 
 
 The hesitation, eh? Say, that's what Mrs. 
 McCabe has been at me to take lessons in. I 
 can see myself, with Sadie tippin' the scales at 
 one hundred and sixty-eight! But when I go 
 home to-night I'll agree to try it if she's willin' 
 to have her spine removed first.
 
 TWO SINGLES TO GOOBER 59 
 
 The young lady in black, though, don't seem 
 to mind. She bows smilin' at the finish, and 
 then trips off with Pimple Face, lookin' whole 
 and happy. I was watchin' 'em as they made 
 their way out towards the front. Seemed to be 
 gen'ral fav 'rites with the crowd, for they were 
 swappin' hails right and left, and she was 
 makin' dates for the next ground and lofty num- 
 ber, I expect; when all of a sudden they're 
 stopped by someone, there's a brief but breezy 
 little argument, and I hears a soft thud that 
 listens like a short arm jab bein' nestled up 
 against a jawbone. And there's Pimple Face 
 doin' a back flip that ain't in his repertoire at 
 all. 
 
 Course that spilled the beans. There was 
 squeals, and shrieks, and a gen'ral mixup; some 
 tryin' to get closer, others beatin' it to get 
 away, and all the makin 's of a young riot. But 
 the management at the Maison Maxixe don't 
 stand for any rough stuff. In less than a min- 
 ute a bunch of house detectives was on the 
 spot, the young hesitationer was whisked into a 
 cloakroom, and the other gent was bein' shot 
 towards the fresh air. 
 
 Just a glimpse that I caught of his flushed 
 face as it was bein' tucked under a bouncer's 
 arm set me in action. I made a break for a 
 side exit; but there's such a jam everywhere 
 that it's two or three minutes before I can get 
 around to the front. 
 
 And there's young Hollister, with an end of
 
 60 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 Ms dress collar draped jaunty over his right 
 ear, tryin' to kick the belt buckle off a two- 
 hundred-pound cop who's holdin' him at arm's 
 length with one hand and rappin' his night- 
 stick for help with the other; while Uncle Noah 
 stands one side, starin' some disturbed at the 
 spectacle. I knew that was no time to butt in ! 
 
 In that section of the White Light district 
 too you can call up plenty of help by a few taps 
 from the locust. Cops came on the jump from 
 two adjoinin' posts, big husky Broadway 
 cops, and they swoops down on young Robin 
 like a bunch of Rockefeller deacons on a Ferrer 
 school graduate who rises in prayer meetin' to 
 ask the latest news from Paint Creek. 
 
 * ' What you got, Jim ? ' ' puffs one. 
 
 " Young hick that got messy in the tango 
 joint," says Jim. 
 
 " Ah, fan him a few! " remarks the other. 
 " Hold him still now while I " 
 
 At which Uncle Noah pushes in and holds up 
 a protestin' hand. " Now see heah, Mistuh 
 Constable," says he, " I wouldn't go for to do 
 anything like that ! ' ' 
 
 " Wha-a-at? " snarls the copper. " Say, you 
 old billy-goat, beat it ! " And he proceeds to 
 clip young Mr. Hollister a glancin' blow on the 
 side of the head. His next aim was better ; but 
 this time the nightstick didn't connect. 
 
 There's been let loose a weird, high-pitched 
 howl, which I didn't recognize at the time as the 
 old Rebel yell, but know now that it was. Uncle
 
 Noah had gone into action. That walkin' stick 
 of his was a second-growth hickory club as thick 
 as your wrist at the big end. He swung it quick 
 and accurate, and if that cop ain't nursin' a 
 broken forearm to-day he's lucky. I expect his 
 dome was solid iv'ry, most of them sluggers 
 have that kind, and in this case he needed it; 
 for, once he gets goin', Uncle Noah makes a 
 thorough job of it. He lands his next swipe 
 square on the copper's head and tumbles him 
 to the sidewalk like a bag of meal. The other 
 two was at him with their clubs by this time^ 
 swingin' on him vicious; but somehow they 
 couldn't get in anything but body blows that 
 echoed on Uncle Noah's ribs like thumpin' a 
 barrel. Must have been a tough old boy; for 
 that never fazed him. And the crowd, that was 
 a block deep by this time, seemed to be right 
 with him. 
 
 ' ' Slug the clubbers ! ' ' they yelled. ' ' Knock 
 their blocks off ! Go to it, old man ! ' ' 
 
 He didn't need that to encourage him; for he 
 wades in lively, raps first one head and then the 
 other, until he had 'em all three on the pave- 
 ment. That set the crowd wild. 
 
 " Now sneak while the sneakin's good, old 
 top! " shouts one. 
 
 " Jump a cab! " sings out another. 
 
 Say, the idea that either of 'em might get out 
 of this muss without goin' to the station house 
 hadn't occurred to me before. But here was a 
 taxi, jam up against the curb not a dozen feet
 
 62 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 off, with the chauffeur swingin' his cap en- 
 thusiastic. 
 
 11 Quick, Uncle! " says I, gettin' him by the 
 arm. " It's your one chance. You too, Eobin. 
 But show some speed about it.'* 
 
 At that, if it hadn't been for half a dozen 
 chaps in the front row of the crowd that helped 
 me shove 'em in, and the others that blocked 
 off the groggy coppers who were wabblin' to 
 their feet, we couldn't have pulled it off. But 
 we piled 'em in, I gave the cabby the Purdy- 
 Pells' street number, and away they was 
 whirled. And you can bet I didn't linger 
 in front of the Maison Maxixe long after 
 that. 
 
 Twenty minutes later we had a little reunion 
 in the Purdy-Pell lib'ry. Eobin was holdin' 
 some cracked ice to a lump on his forehead, and 
 Uncle Noah was sittin' uncomf 'table on the 
 edge of a big leather chair. 
 
 " How cheery! " says I. " But take it from 
 me, Uncle, you're some two-fisted scrapper 1 I 
 didn't think it was in you." 
 
 " We-e-ell," he drawls out, still breathin' 
 a bit hard, but gettin' back his gentle smile, " I 
 didn't want to do no fursin' with them con- 
 stables; but you know Mistuh Phil he told me 
 to see that Robin didn't git into no trouble, and 
 and we-e-ell, I didn't care for their motions 
 none at all, I didn't. So I jes' had to tap 'em a 
 little." 
 
 " Tappin' is good!" says I. " And how
 
 f 
 
 IE 
 
 a < 
 
 D O 
 
 H O 
 
 hr 
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 fe
 
 TWO SINGLES TO GOOBEE 63 
 
 about you, Robin? How do you come to be 
 mixin 7 it up so conspicuous? " 
 
 11 I'm sorry," says he. " I suppose I made 
 an awful ass of myself. But even if she is a 
 public dancer, that snipe shouldn't have in- 
 sulted her. Of course I'd found out long before 
 that Miss Toots was no longer anything to me ; 
 
 " Then that was the famous Maggie, 
 it? " I breaks in. " The one that lured you up 
 from Dixie? " 
 
 " Not exactly a lure," says he. " She didn't 
 think I'd be chump enough to come. But that's 
 all off now." 
 
 11 I ain't curious," says I, " but the fam'ly 
 has sort of delegated me to keep track of your 
 moves. What's next, if you know? ' 
 
 Robin shrugs his shoulders sort of listless. 
 " I don't know," says he. Then he turns to 
 Uncle Noah, " Uncle," says he, " how will 
 those scuppernongs be about now on the big 
 arbor in front of Uncle Phil's? " 
 
 " Bless you, Mistuh Robin," says old Noah, 
 " they'll be dead ripe by now, and there's jes' 
 doodlins of 'em. Miss Peggy Culpepper, she'll 
 be mighty lonesome, a pickin' of 'em all by her- 
 self.*" 
 
 " Humph! " says Robin, tintin' up. " Think 
 so, do you? " 
 
 " I don't have to think, Mistuh Robin," says 
 Uncle Noah. " Miss Peggy told me that her- 
 self the mornm' I come away."
 
 64 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 Young Mr. Hollister gazes earnest into 
 them gentle old blue eyes for a second, then he 
 takes a turn or two up and down the lib 'ry, and 
 fin'lly claps Uncle Noah on the shoulder. 
 " I've been waiting all summer for a taste of 
 those grapes," says he. " Come, we can just 
 catch the midnight. I've had enough of Broad- 
 way to last me for a long time." 
 
 And my partin' glimpse of 'em was at eleven- 
 fifty-six, when they pushed through the gate 
 bound for Goober, Georgia. 
 
 1 1 After all, ' ' thinks I, ' ' it may not be so bad 
 as it sounds."
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 \ 
 
 THE CASE OF A FEMALE PAETY 
 
 You know how free this J. Bayard Steele has 
 been in callin' on me for help in puttin' over his 
 little deeds of kindness, at so 'much per deed? 
 Well, here the other day he shows up at the 
 studio with sealed envelope No. 3 in his pocket, 
 and after springin' his usual guff about the 
 door of fate he opens it. 
 
 " Well, who's the party of the second part 
 this time? " says I. 
 
 But he just gazes at the slip of paper he's 
 taken out and smiles mushy. 
 
 " All right," says I. " Keep it to yourself. 
 This is my busy day, anyway." 
 
 " Pardon me, McCabe," says he. "I was 
 lost in wonder at the varied character of the 
 persons whom the late Pyramid Gordon num- 
 bered on his conscience list. This time it is a 
 lady." 
 
 " Huh! " says I. " Didn't know Pyramid 
 ever had any skirt complications." 
 
 " From Adam down has any man escaped? ' 
 says J. Bayard, wavin' his cigarette jaunty. 
 " No, your friend Gordon was no wiser than 
 the rest of us, as this shows. Hearken to the 
 name Josie Vernon ! ' ' 
 
 65
 
 66 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 " That does listen flossy," says I. " But I 
 never heard him mention any Josie as long as 
 I knew him. Any details f ' ' 
 
 " There's an address," says J. Bayard, 
 " and in one corner is written, l Mrs. Fletcher 
 Shaw. ' Probably a friend, or next of kin. Ah, 
 but this is something like ! Knight-errantry for 
 the fair sex ! Here, McCabe, is where I shine ! ' 
 
 " You do, eh? " says I. " Think you can 
 handle this case" all by your lonesome? " 
 
 Did he? Why, to see him turkeyin' round, 
 glancin' at himself approvin' in the mirror, 
 and pattin' them Grand Duke whiskers of his 
 into shape, you'd think he had some matinee 
 idol as an understudy. Oh, yes, he rather 
 fancied he understood women, knew how to 
 handle 'em, and all that. He would look up 
 Josie Vernon at once, find out what had been 
 the trouble between her and Pyramid, and de- 
 cide on some kind and generous way of evenin' 
 the score, accordin' to the terms of Mr. Gor- 
 don's will. 
 
 " And in this instance, Shorty," says he, " I 
 shall probably not be compelled to trouble you 
 at all until I submit my plans for your indorse- 
 ment. Now I'm off. The ladies, bless 'em! r 
 and he winks giddy as he trips through the 
 door. 
 
 Ain't they the nutty ones, these old cut-ups? 
 Look at Steele now, in the late fifties, but just 
 at the mention of a name like Josie Vernon he 
 gets kittenish!
 
 THE CASE OF A FEMALE PAETY 67 
 
 Well, it's nothin' to me, and I'm glad to duck 
 any dealin's with stray dames; for when it 
 comes to the surprisin' sex you never know 
 what you're goin' to be let in for. Besides, my 
 part of his executor game was only to O.K. J. 
 Bayard's final schemes and see that he spent 
 the money somewhere near the way I judged' 
 Pyramid meant to have it distributed. Course, 
 I hadn't been able to stick to that very strict in 
 the first two cases; but this time it looked like 
 I would. 
 
 So by the next afternoon, havin' been busy 
 in the gym since nine A.M., I'd forgotten the in- 
 cident complete, and I'm some surprised when 
 Swifty Joe announces that there's a female 
 party askin' for me in the front office. 
 
 " Wha' d'ye mean female party? " says I. 
 "Is it a lady? " 
 
 * ' Ah-r-r-r chee ! ' ' says Swifty. l ' How do I 
 know? " 
 
 That's some surprisin' too; for as a rule he 
 ain't strong on drawin' fine distinctions. If 
 they're young and flossy dressed, he calls 
 'em " fluffs "; but anything over twenty-five, 
 no matter how she's costumed, is a lady 
 to Swifty, even a scrubwoman. So his de- 
 scribin' this visitor as a female party gets me 
 curious. 
 
 The minute I steps into the office and gets a 
 glimpse at her, though, I got Swifty 's point of 
 view. The battered old lid had been gay enough 
 once, a few seasons back, when the willow plume
 
 68 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 hadn't been dislocated in four places, and be- 
 fore the velvet trimmin' had faded into so 
 many differ 'nt shades. It had been a lady's 
 hat once. And the face tinder it, in spite of the 
 red tip to the nose and the puffs under the eyes, 
 might have belonged to a lady. Anyway, there 
 was traces of good looks there. But the rusty 
 black cloak that hung limp over the sagged 
 shoulders, only part hidin' the sloppy shirt 
 waist and reachin' but halfway down the side- 
 hiked, draggled-edge skirt that's the sure 
 mark of a female party. I don 't know why, but 
 it is. 
 
 Where they get cloaks like that is a mystery. 
 You see 'em on women panhandlers, on the old 
 hags that camp on park benches, and in the 
 jag line at police courts. But you never see 
 a new one. Perhaps they're made special 
 by second-hand shops for the female party 
 trade. 
 
 " Well? " says I, lookin' her over cold and 
 curious. 
 
 But you can't faze a female party so simple. 
 They're used to that. She stares back at me 
 just as cool, and then remarks, " I guess you 
 know who I am well enough. ' ' 
 
 " Sure! " says I. " You're the long lost 
 Duchess of Gainsborough, ain't you! ' 
 
 She just gazes at me brassy and shakes her 
 head. 
 
 " Then you must be a lady snake agent," 
 I.
 
 THE CASE OF A FEMALE PARTY 69 
 
 " What? " says she, scowlin' puzzled. 
 
 " I don't know the answer, either," says 
 I. " Called for Professor McCabe, didn't 
 you? Well, you're connected. Shoot the rest 
 of it." 
 
 ''I'm Mrs. Fletcher Shaw," says she. 
 
 And for a minute there I couldn't place the 
 name. Then it came to me. " Oh! " says I. 
 " Some relation of Josie Vernon's, eh? " 
 
 " Suppose I am? " she demands, eyin' me 
 suspicious. 
 
 " Tut, tut, now! " says I. " You're the one 
 that's occupyin' the witness stand, you know. 
 You were about to tell why you came. ' ' 
 
 " Was I? " says she. " You might guess 
 that: you've had a man pryin' and snoopin* 
 around my flat for two days." 
 
 I gawps at her for a second, and then 
 chuckles. " You mean a classy-dressed gent 
 with whiskers? " says I. 
 
 She nods. 
 
 II Mr. J. Bayard Steele," says I. "He's 
 the one to see. He'll give you all the par- 
 tic 'lars." 
 
 " Humph! " says she, sniffin'. " What does 
 he want of Josie Vernon? What's his game? " 
 
 " Deeds of kindness, that's all," says I. 
 
 Mrs. Shaw indulges in a hard, throaty cackle. 
 " There ain't no such animal," says she. 
 " Come now, you're in on this with him. He 
 said so. What's it all about? " 
 
 " Mrs. Shaw," says I, " you've heard all I
 
 70 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 got to say on the subject. I'm more or less 
 busy too, and " 
 
 ' ' How impolite ! ' ' she breaks in. ' ' And me 
 a lady too ! Heavings ! how faint I feel ! ' ' 
 With that she sidles towards my desk chair and 
 slumps into it. 
 
 " Very distressin' symptoms," says I. 
 " But I got a quick cure for attacks like that. 
 It's fresh air, taken outside." 
 
 " I sha'n't budge until I've found why you're 
 hounding me! " says she, grippin* the chair 
 arms. 
 
 " So? " says I. " Maybe you didn't notice 
 the size of my assistant, Swifty Joe, as you 
 came inf His specialty is escortin' obstreper- 
 ous parties downstairs and dumpin' 'em on 
 the curb." 
 
 " You try any strong-arm stuff on me and 
 I'll scream for help! " says she. " I'll make 
 a charge against you too." 
 
 She looked equal to it, and for a minute I 
 stands there gazin' puzzled at her and 
 scratchin' my head. 
 
 " You win," says I. "I can't have Swifty 
 scratched up. He's too handsome. It ain't any 
 secret I'm keepin' away from you, anyway. 
 All Mr. Steele wants to do is to locate Josie 
 Vernon. It's a will case, and there may be 
 something in it for her. There! That's the 
 whole story." 
 
 " It's a fishy one," says she. 
 
 " Maybe," says I; " but I'm givin' yon
 
 THE CASE OF A FEMALE PAETY 71 
 
 my word on it. Produce Josie, and you'll 
 see." 
 
 She squints at me doubtful, glances around 
 the room cautious once or twice, and then re- 
 marks quiet, " Very well. I'll take a chance. 
 I'm Josie." 
 
 "Eh? "says I. "You!" 
 
 " Ask the Sergeant over at the Nineteenth," 
 says she. " He ran me out of his precinct 
 because I wouldn't give up enough. Fortune- 
 telling, you know. He wanted twenty a month. 
 Think of that! " 
 
 " Never mind the Sarge," says I. " Did you 
 know Mr. Gordon? " 
 
 " Pyramid? " says she. " Rather! Back in 
 the '90 's, that was. I was in his offices for 
 awhile." 
 
 " Oh ho! " says I. " Then you must be 
 the one. Would you mind givin' me a sketch 
 of the affair? \ J 
 
 Mrs. Shaw shrugs her shoulders under the 
 old cape. " Why should I care now? " says 
 she. " I sprung a breach of promise suit on 
 him, that's all. I might have known better. 
 He was a hard man, Pyramid Gordon. What 
 with lawyers and the private detectives he set 
 after me, I was glad to get out of the city alive. 
 It was two years before I dared come back 
 and a rough two years they were too! But 
 you're not raking that up against me at this 
 late date, are you? " 
 
 "I'm not," says I. " Any move I make will
 
 72 SHOETY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 be for your good. But Steele's the man. I'll 
 have to call him in." 
 
 " Call away, then," says she. "I ain't 
 afraid of him, either." 
 
 And by luck I catches J. Bayard at his hotel 
 and gets him on the 'phone. 
 
 "Well?" says I. "How about the fair 
 Josie? " 
 
 I could hear him groan over the wire. 
 " Hang Josie! " says he. " See here, McCabe, 
 I've had a deuce of a time with that case. Must 
 have been something wrong with the address, 
 you know." 
 
 " How's that? " says I. 
 
 " Why," says he, " it led me to a smelly, top- 
 floor flat up in Harlem, and all I could find there 
 was this impossible person, Mrs. Fletcher 
 Shaw. Of all the sniveling, lying, vicious- 
 tongued old harridans ! Do you know what she 
 did? .Chased me down four flights of stairs 
 with a broom, just because I insisted on seeing 
 Josie Vernon! " 
 
 " You don't say! " says I. " And you such 
 a star at this knight-errant business! Still 
 want to see Josie, do you? " 
 
 " Why, of course," says he. 
 
 " Then come down to the studio," says I. 
 " She's here." 
 
 " Wha-a-at! " he gasps. " I I'll be right 
 down. ' ' 
 
 And inside of ten minutes he swings in, all 
 dolled up elegant with a pink carnation in his
 
 THE CASE OF A FEMALE PAETY 73 
 
 buttonhole. You should have seen the smile 
 come off his face, though, when he sees what's 
 occupyin' my desk chair. He'd have done a 
 sneak back through the door too, if I hadn't 
 blocked him off. 
 
 " Steady there, J. Bayard! " says I. "On 
 the job, now ! ' ' 
 
 " But but this isn't Josie Vernon," says he. 
 "It's that Mrs. " 
 
 " One and the same," says I. " The lady 
 says so herself. She's proved it too." 
 
 " I had you sized up as a police spotter," 
 puts in Mrs. Shaw, ' * trying to get me for palm 
 reading. Thought you might have run across 
 one of my cards. Josie Vernon 's the name I 
 use on them. Sorry if I was too free with the 
 broom. ' ' 
 
 " I was merely returning to tell you, Mad- 
 am," says Steele, " that I had discovered you 
 to be an impostor. Those five children you 
 claimed as yours did not belong to you at all. 
 The janitor of the building informed me 
 
 Lilctl 
 
 " Yes, I heard him through the dumb-waiter 
 shaft," says Mrs. Shaw. " But I always bor- 
 row some youngsters for my poor widow act 
 when I think I'm being shadowed; so you 
 needn't get peeved." 
 
 ' ' Of course not. How silly of him ! " I puts 
 in. " There, Steele, that's all straightened out, 
 and here is the original Josie Vernon. 
 have you got to suggest ? ' '
 
 74 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 He stares at me blank, and then takes an- 
 other look at Mrs. Shaw. I'll admit she wa'n't 
 a fascinatin' sight. 
 
 " You don't mean," says he, whisperin' 
 husky in my ear, " that you would do anything 
 for such a creature I ' 
 
 " She's on the list, ain't she? " says I. 
 
 " Ye-e-es," he admits; " but ." 
 
 " Let's ask the lady herself for a few more 
 details, so we can have something definite to 
 go on," says I. " Excuse us, Mrs. Shaw, for 
 this little side debate; but we ain't quite made 
 up our minds about you yet. Let's see you 
 was tellin' me about bringin' a breach of 
 promise suit against Pyramid, and how he ran 
 you out of town. You had a good case too, I 
 expect? ' 
 
 11 What's the use of lying about it now? " 
 says she. " It was a cheap bluff, that's all; one 
 of Mr. Shaw's brilliant schemes. Oh, he was a 
 schemer, Shaw was ! Pretended to be a lawyer, 
 Fletcher did, in those days. He was smooth 
 enough for one, but too lazy. I didn't know 
 that when I married him. What I didn 't know 
 about him then! But I learned. He thought 
 he could scare Mr. Gordon into settling for a 
 few thousand. Of course my claim was all 
 bosh. Pyramid Gordon hardly knew I was in 
 his office. Besides, I was married, anyway. He 
 didn't guess that. But the bluff didn't work. 
 We were the ones who were scared; scared 
 stiff, too."
 
 THE CASE OF A FEMALE PARTY 75 
 
 " H-m-m-m! " says I. " Not what you 
 might call a pretty affair, was it? ' 
 
 Mrs. Shaw don't wince at that. She just 
 sneers cynical. " Life with Fletcher Shaw 
 wasn't pretty at any stage of the game," says 
 she. ' ' Say, you don 't think I picked my career, 
 do you? True, I was only a girl; but I wasn't 
 quite a fool. You will laugh, I suppose, but at 
 twenty-two I had dreams, ambitions. I meant 
 to be a woman doctor. I was teaching physi- 
 ology and chemistry in a high school up in 
 Connecticut, where I was born. In another 
 year I could have begun my medical course. 
 Then Fletcher came along, with his curly brown 
 hair, his happy, careless smile, and his fasci- 
 nating way of avoiding the truth. I gave up all 
 my hopes and plans to go vith him. That's 
 what a woman does when she marries. I don't 
 know why it should be so, but it is. Take my 
 case: I had more brains, more energy, more 
 character, than he. But he was a man ; so I had 
 to live his life. A rotten sort of life it was. 
 And when it was over well, look at me. I've 
 learned to drink gin and to make a living as a 
 fortune-teller. And the worst of it is, I don't 
 care who knows it. Wanted details, didn't you? 
 Well, you've got 'em." 
 
 I glances at J. Bayard, and finds him lookin* 
 the other way with his lip curled. You 
 couldn't blame him so much. Listenin' to a 
 female party tell the story of her life ain't in- 
 spirin ', and we 're all apt to duck things of that
 
 76 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 kind. They may be true; but it's easier and 
 pleasanter to look the other way. As for me, 
 I want to, but can't. I just got to take things 
 as they are and as they come. Forgettin' weeds 
 in the back yard don't get rid of 'em. I'm apt 
 to paw around and see where the roots spread 
 to. 
 
 Meanwhile J. Bayard has stepped over by the 
 window and signals me to follow. " Disgust- 
 ing, isn't it? " says he. " And you see by this 
 creature's own story that she doesn't deserve a 
 penny of Pyramid's money. He was fooled by 
 her, that's all." 
 
 11 Not Pyramid," says I. " Didn't he have 
 her married name on the slip too ? So he must 
 have found out." 
 
 "That's so," says Steele. "Well, sup- 
 pose we give her fifty or so, and ship her 
 off." 
 
 " That's kind of small, considerin' the pile 
 we got to draw on, ain't it? " says I. " And 
 it strikes me that since Pyramid put her name 
 
 down he meant Let's see if there ain't 
 
 something special she wants." 
 
 " Say," sings out Mrs. Shaw, " what about 
 that will business? If it was old Gordon, I 
 suppose he wouldn't leave me much. He had 
 no call to." 
 
 " About what would you expect, now? " says 
 I, as we drifts back to her. 
 
 She squints foxy at us for a minute. " After 
 all this fuss," says she, " it ought to be two or
 
 THE CASE OF A FEMALE PARTY 77 
 
 three hundred maybe five. No, I mean a thou- 
 sand. ' ' 
 
 " Huh! " says I. "A thousand! Got your 
 nerve with you, ain't you! But suppose 
 it was that much, what would you do with 
 it?" 
 
 " Dol " says she, her eyes brightenin'. 
 
 11 Why, I would I Ah, what's the use! 
 
 I'd make a fool of myself, of course. And in- 
 side of ten days I'd be in a D.T. ward some- 
 where. ' ' 
 
 * ' No old home or folks that you could go back 
 to? " I suggests. 
 
 She shakes her head. " It's too late for me 
 to go back, ' ' says she. ' ' Too late ! ' ' She 
 don't try to be tragic, don't even whine it out, 
 but just states it dull and flat. 
 
 " But most everyone has a friend or so 
 somewhere," says I. 
 
 At first that don't make any impression at 
 all. Then all of a sudden she sits up and gazes 
 vague over the top of my head. 
 
 " There's the Baron! " says she. 
 
 " The which? " says I. 
 
 " Von Blatzer," says she. " Oh, he's a real 
 Baron, all right ; an odd-looking, dried up little 
 chap with a wig and painted eyebrows. Yet 
 he's hardly sixty. I got to know him at At- 
 lantic City, where I had a Board Walk pitch 
 one season. Queer? That's no word for it! 
 Shy and lonesome he was ; but after you got to 
 know him, one of the brightest, jolliest old
 
 78 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 duffers. Our first talk was out on the end of 
 one of those long piers, by moonlight. 
 
 " After that it was a regular thing. We'd 
 walk up and down like two kids, telling each 
 other all about ourselves. I'd never stated my 
 full opinion of Fletcher Shaw to a soul before; 
 but somehow old Von was so friendly and 
 sympathetic that I cut loose. The Baron 
 ground his teeth over it. He said that Fletcher 
 should have been caught young and shot from 
 a cannon. Good old Von Blatzer ! Wanted me 
 to go back to Vienna as the Baroness. Think 
 of it me! But I was having a good season. 
 Besides, I didn't think I could stand for a wig. 
 I didn't know how much I was going to miss 
 him." 
 
 " You wouldn't shy at the wig now, eh? ' 
 says I. 
 
 " Would I! " says she. " Honest, I liked 
 Von Blatzer, for all his freaky ways. He was 
 human, he was, and we understood each other. 
 He'll be at Monte Carlo now. Eoulette, you 
 know. That's all he lives for. Plays a system. 
 Nice little income he has; not big, but com- 
 fortable. And during the season he feeds it 
 all into the wheel. Someone ought to cure him 
 of that." 
 
 ' ' Think you could, I expect ? ' ' says I. * ' But 
 how about you and the juniper juice ? ' ' 
 
 " Oh, I could quit that easy if there was any- 
 thing else to do," says she. " But there isn't." 
 
 " Then here's a proposition," says I. " You
 
 THE CASE OF A FEMALE PAETY 79 
 
 query him by cable to see if he's changed his 
 mind; and if he's still a candidate for matri- 
 mony well, I guess Mr. Steele will see that 
 you get to the Baron." 
 
 " You you mean that? " says she gaspy. 
 
 11 Uh-huh," says I. "It's up to you." 
 
 " But but I Why, look at me! " says 
 
 she. 
 
 " Two weeks on the water wagon, a few visits 
 to the beauty parlors, and an outfit of tango 
 skirts ought to make some difference, hadn't 
 it ? " says I. * ' Those items would be included. 
 What do you say? " 
 
 I expect it was a good deal of a proposition 
 to spring on a female party. No wonder she 
 choked up over it. 
 
 II If I thought you were just guying me," 
 says she, " I I'd " 
 
 ' * Here 's a cable blank, ' ' says I. ' ' Frame up 
 your call to the Baron while I state the case to 
 Mr. Steele." 
 
 He couldn't see it at all, J. Bayard couldn't. 
 " What! " says he. " Waste all that money 
 on such a wretch! Why, the woman is un- 
 worthy of even the most " 
 
 " What's that got to do with it? " says I. 
 " Pyramid didn't put that in the bill of par- 
 tic 'lars, did he? Maybe he had doubts about 
 himself. And how would we qualify? How 
 would you? Come, what's your battin' aver- 
 age, Steele, in the worthy league? ' 
 
 J. Bayard squirms a little at that, and then
 
 80 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 hunches his shoulders. " Oh, if you're going 
 to put it that way," says he, " go ahead. But 
 when she starts to be a Baroness, I'd like to see 
 her." 
 
 " You'll be there to hand her the tickets," 
 says I. " You'll get her ready. That's part 
 of your job." 
 
 He saw the point. And, say, he did his work 
 thorough. I saw no more of Mrs. Shaw until 
 nearly two weeks later, when Steele towed me 
 down to the steamer. 
 
 11 Which one! " says I, lookin' at the crowd 
 along the rail. ' ' Ah, come off ! That with the 
 veils and the stunnin' figure the one wavin' 
 this wayf That ain't never Mrs. Fletcher 
 Shaw!" 
 
 " That's Josie," says he. " And before the 
 end of the month she'll be the Baroness Von 
 Blatzer. Changed? Why, I hardly recognized 
 her myself after her first day's shopping! She 
 must have been quite a beauty once. But what 
 a wreck she was when " 
 
 " When she chased you with the broom, 
 eh? " says I, chucklin'. " And now you're as 
 chesty over her as though you'd been workin' 
 a miracle. Just beamin' for joy, you are! ' 
 
 " I know," says he. " And really, McCabe, 
 I've never had a hand in anything which has 
 given me so much genuine pleasure. It it's 
 weird, you know. I can't think what's happen- 
 ing to me." 
 
 " Maybe," says I, "you're sproutin' a soul."
 
 HOW MILLIE SHOOK THE JINX 
 
 KIND of odd the way the Morans and Elisha 
 Porter Bayne coincided. You'd think so if you 
 could see 'em bunched once; for Elisha P. is a 
 mighty fine man; you know, one of our most 
 prominent and highly respected citizens. Every- 
 body says so. The local weekly always prints 
 it that way. Besides, he's president of the 
 Trust Company, head of the Buildin ' and Loan, 
 chairman of the School Board, and a director of 
 such things as the Old Ladies' Home, the Hos- 
 pital, and the Nut and Bolt Works. Always 
 wears a black frock coat and a white string tie 
 too, tall, thin jawed, distinguished lookin' 
 gent. 
 
 While the Morans say, let's put them oft as 
 long as we can. And the more we linger in the 
 society of Mr. Bayne the better we ought to be. 
 Up to last spring, I blush to admit, I'd never 
 been favored much. Course, commutin' in and 
 out the way I do, I didn't have a good show. 
 But we passes the nod when we meets. Elisha 
 P. never strains his neck durin' the exercise. 
 You could detect his nod with the naked eye, 
 though, and I expect that was a good deal from 
 
 81
 
 82 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 him to me. You get the idea. That nod in- 
 cludes only the Mr. McCabe that owns a shore- 
 front place and votes in Bockhurst-on-the- 
 Sound. It don't stretch so far as to take in 
 Shorty McCabe who runs a Physical Culture 
 Studio on 42d-st. And that's all right too. I'm 
 satisfied. 
 
 Then here one day back in April, as I'm 
 drivin' home from the station with Sadie, who 
 should step to the curb and hold me up but Mr. 
 Bayne. Does it offhand, friendly, mind you. 
 Course I stops sudden. Sadie bows and smiles. 
 I lifts my lid. Mr. Bayne holds his square- 
 topped derby against his white shirt front. We 
 shakes hands cordial. And I'm most gaspin' 
 for breath when it's over. 
 
 " Ah, by the way, Mr. McCabe," says he, 
 " about that err Sucker Brook tract? Have 
 you thought it over yet? " 
 
 Just like that, you know; as if it was some- 
 thing we'd been talkin' about for months, while 
 as a matter of fact this is the first hint I'd had 
 that Elisha P. was interested at all. 
 
 Not that it hadn't been put up to me. Why, 
 three diff 'rent parties had interviewed me con- 
 fidential on the proposition, offerin' to let me 
 in on the ground floor, and givin' as many dif- 
 f 'rent but more or less convincin' reasons for 
 bein' so generous. One explains how he wanted 
 to see the tract go to some local man instead 
 of New York speculators; another confesses 
 that their little syndicate is swingin' too much
 
 HOW MILLIE SHOOK THE JINX 83 
 
 undeveloped property and has got to start a 
 bargain counter; while the third man slaps me 
 hearty on the back and whispers that he just 
 wants to put me next to a good thing. 
 
 I come near swallowin' the bait too; for I'd 
 turned over some Bronx buildin' lots not long 
 before at a nice little advance, and the kale was 
 only drawin' three per cent. Course this 
 Sucker Brook chunk ain't much to look at, a 
 strip of marshy ground along the railroad ; but 
 half a mile away they're sellin' villa plots, and 
 acreage is mighty scarce so near the city line as 
 we are. Took me a week of scoutin' among my 
 friends to discover that this gang of real estate 
 philanthropists had bought up the Sucker 
 Brook tract on a private tip that a trolley ex- 
 tension was goin' to be put through there. So 
 it might have been too, only a couple of the 
 County Board members who was tryin' to pull 
 off another deal got busy and blocked the fran- 
 chise. Then it was a case of unload, with me 
 runnin' as favorite in the Easy Mark Handicap. 
 And now here comes Elisha P., straight out of 
 the Trust Company, to spring the trapdoor 
 himself. 
 
 " Why, yes, Mr. Bayne," says I. " I've 
 chewed it over some; but I ain't quite made up 
 my mind to take it on. ' ' 
 
 "You haven't!" says he, his nice, white, 
 respectable eyebrows showin' great surprise. 
 * ' But, my dear man, I personally had that offer 
 made to you. Why, we could have But
 
 84 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 never mind that. I hope you may see fit to give 
 us your answer by Saturday noon." 
 
 " That depends," says I, "on whether you 
 come for it or not." 
 
 " I beg pardon? " says he, starin'. 
 
 " At the studio," says I, shovin' over one of 
 my professional cards. " That's where I do 
 business. So long, Mr. Bayne." And with that 
 I throws in the clutch and leaves him gawpin ' ! 
 
 " Why, Shorty! " says Sadie. " How horrid 
 of you ! And Mr. Bayne is such a nice old gen- 
 tleman too! " 
 
 " Yes, ain't he? " says I. " And for smooth- 
 ness he's got a greased plank lookin' like a 
 graveled walk." 
 
 I didn't think he'd come after that. But the 
 other lines they had out must have been hauled 
 in empty ; for not ten days later I has a 'phone 
 call from him sayin' he's in town and that if it's 
 convenient he'll drop around about three P.M. 
 
 II I'll be here," says I. 
 
 " And I trust," he adds, " that I er may 
 not encounter any pugilists or er " 
 
 " You'll be safe," says I, " unless some of 
 my Wall Street customers break office rules and 
 try to ring you in on a margin deal. Outside 
 of them, or now and then a railroad president, 
 the studio has a quiet, refined patronage." 
 
 " Ah, thanks," says he. 
 
 " Swifty," says I to my assistant, " don't 
 show yourself in the front office after three 
 to-day. I'm goin' to entertain a pillar of so-
 
 HOW MILLIE SHOOK THE JINX 85 
 
 ciety, and a sight of that mug of yours might 
 get him divin' through the window." 
 
 ' * Ahr-r-r-r chee ! ' ' remarks Swif ty Joe, 
 catchin' the wink. 
 
 Course, I might have got real peevish over 
 Mr. Bayne's suspicions, and told him to go 
 chase himself; but I'm feeling sort of good- 
 humored that day. Besides, thinks I, it won't 
 do any harm to show him just how peaceful and 
 respectable a physical culture studio can be. 
 You know the ideas some people get. Anql as 
 a rule our floor here is the quietest in the 
 buildin'. I knew it would be that day specially; 
 for all we had on the slate was a couple of 
 poddy old parties who'd be workin' away at 
 the apparatus, bavin' about as strenuous a 
 time as a baby playin' with its toes. 
 
 But I hadn't counted in that Sieger & Bloom 
 combination, up on the fourth. They run a 
 third-rate theatrical agency, you know, and 
 just about then they was fillin' out contracts 
 for summer snaps, and what you saw driftin' 
 up and down the stairs didn't make you yearn 
 to be a vaudeville actor. So later on, when I 
 heard an argument in progress out in the hall, 
 I glances nervous at the clock. It's almost on 
 the tick of three. 
 
 " Hey, cut out the riot! " I calls through the 
 transom; but as there's no letup to the debate 
 I strolls over to- the door, prepared to reprove 
 someone real severe. 
 
 It's quite some spirited scene out on the
 
 86 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 landin'. There's old man Bloom, a short, 
 squatty, fish-eyed old pirate with a complexion 
 like sour dough. He has one foot on the next 
 flight, and seems to be retreatin' as he waves 
 his pudgy hands and sputters. Followin' him 
 up is a tall, willowy, black-eyed young woman 
 in a giddy Longchamps creation direct from 
 Canal-st. She's pleadin' earnest that Bloom 
 mustn't forget he's talkin' to a lady. Behind 
 her is a husky, red-haired young gent with his 
 fingers bunched menacin'; while just below, 
 hesitatin' whether to push through the hostili- 
 ties or beat it back to the street, is Elisha P. 
 Bayne, Esq. 
 
 11 Give us a show to make good, that's all we 
 ask," the young woman is sayin'. " Put us on 
 somewhere, as you said you would when you 
 took our money." 
 
 1 'Bah!" snorts old Bloom. " I vouldn't 
 sign, you for a Third-ave. cabaret. Your act is 
 rotten. A pair of cheab skaters, you are 
 cheab skaters! " 
 
 " Oh, we are, are we? " explodes the young 
 woman. Then, biff! out flashes one of her 
 long arms, and the next thing Bloom knows 
 his silk lid has been smashed down over his 
 eyes. 
 
 "Helb! Helb! " he squeals. " Bolice! I 
 vill ged the bolice after you." With that he 
 makes a break past her and goes waddlin' down- 
 stairs on the run. 
 
 Now I've done it, I reckon," says the 
 
 "
 
 HOW MILLIE SHOOK THE JINX 87 
 
 young woman. " And that about finishes us, 
 Timothy dear. He's after a cop." 
 
 " Yes, and he'll bring one back," I puts in, 
 " or I don't know Abie Bloom. About five and 
 costs will be the bill. But it ought to be worth 
 it." 
 
 " It would, every cent," says she, " if we had 
 the five." 
 
 " In that case," says I, " you'd better do a 
 sudden duck." 
 
 " But where to! " says she, glancin' des- 
 perate down the stairs. 
 
 And, say, the thought of how comic old Bloom 
 looked strugglin' out of his hat, and of how 
 eager he'd be to get her sent to the Island for 
 it, was too much for me. 
 
 " In here," says I, steppin' out of the studio 
 door. " You too," and I motions to the red- 
 haired gent. Then, turnin' to Elisha P., I goes 
 on, " Better join the group, Mr. Bayne." 
 
 " But, you know," he protests, " this is the 
 very thing I wished to avoid. I do not care to 
 mingle with such er " 
 
 t. i 
 
 I expect not," says I; " but if you stay 
 here you'll be gathered in as a witness to the 
 assault. Course, if you'd rather do that 
 why " 
 
 " No, no ! " says he. " I I think I will step 
 in, for a moment at least." 
 
 He made up his mind just in time; for I'd no 
 sooner herded the bunch into the front office 
 and locked the door than we hears Bloom towin'
 
 88 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 the cop up the stairs and describin' puffy how 
 he'd been most murdered. We listens while 
 they searches the hallways clear to the top, and 
 then hears the cop trampin' down again. He 
 calls back to Bloom that he'll keep an eye out 
 for the female assaulter. 
 
 11 That's Roundsman Foley," says I, " and 
 he's got a four-mile beat to cover between now 
 and five o'clock. Inside of twenty minutes he'll 
 be blocks away. Might as well sit down, 
 Folks." 
 
 ' ' Say, Mister, ' ' speaks up the young woman, 
 " I don't know who you are, but we're much 
 obliged. Tim, speak up." 
 
 Timothy wanted to; but he ain't an easy con- 
 verser, and the language seems to clog his 
 tongue. 
 
 11 Don't mention it," says I. "I ain't got 
 any personal grudge against Mr. Bloom; but 
 I've been achin' to see someone hand him a pat, 
 just for greens. There's my name on the 
 door." 
 
 " Oh! " says the young woman. " Then 
 you're Professor McCabe? Well, we're the 
 Morans, Millie and Tim. Tango is our 
 line." 
 
 I can see Elisha P. shudder visible at that. 
 He hesitates a second, and then comes to the 
 front. " McCabe,!' says he, "I feel that I 
 must protest. An assault was committed in 
 your presence. As a law-abiding citizen it 
 should be your duty to turn the offender over
 
 HOW MILLIE SHOOK THE JINX 89 
 
 to the authorities instead of furnishing a hid- 
 ing place." 
 
 " Now listen to that! " says I. " All right, 
 Mr. Bayne, if you insist. But you go along as 
 a witness too." 
 
 " In a police court! " he gasps. " Why 
 really, you know, I I couldn't do such a 
 thing." 
 
 " Case quashed then," says I. "I'm too 
 bashful to go alone." 
 
 11 But you know," says he, " I came here 
 merely on a matter of business." 
 
 " Yes, we'll get to that pretty soon," says I. 
 " Our friends here are only goin' to stop until 
 the travelin' is safer." Then I turns to the 
 Morans. " Dancers, eh? " says I. " Where 
 have you been on? ' 
 
 " Nowhere," says Millie. " We're tryin' to 
 break in." 
 
 " Oh! " says I. " Candidates for amateur 
 night? " 
 
 * ' Not much ! ' ' says Millie. ' ' We 're as good 
 as any. Maurice ain't got a thing on us, hon- 
 est ; nor that Ripple combination, either. Why, 
 we got steps of our own that the rest haven't 
 thought of! " 
 
 " Ye-e-es? " says I. 
 
 " Oh, I know," says she, shruggin' her shoul- 
 ders. " Maybe we don't look it; but, say, we've 
 got the goods." 
 
 " Case of undiscovered genius, eh? " says I. 
 
 Millie flushes a little at that; but bites her
 
 90 SHOETY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 lips to keep back the hot retort. Bright lookin' 
 girl, Millie; and if she hadn't been costumed so 
 vivid she wouldn't have been such a bad looker. 
 But in that tight, striped dress with the slashed 
 skirt, and that foolish lid with the two skimpy 
 pink feathers curlin' over the back well, be- 
 lieve me, she was some zippy ! 
 
 " Say, lemme tell you how it happened, won't 
 you? " says she. 
 
 " If it ain't too long," says I. 
 
 " I'll make it sketchy," says she. " In the 
 first place, when I landed here in New York 
 about a year and a half ago, I'd made up my 
 mind to connect with big money. I didn't know 
 exactly how; the stage, maybe. Anyway, I 
 knew the coin was here, and that it wasn't in 
 Saskatoon." 
 
 " Sass which! " says I. 
 
 " Saskatoon," says she. " It's on the map, 
 up in Saskatchewan, you know. No, I wasn't 
 born there. Hardly anybody was. It's too new. 
 I went there with Mother and Brother Phil 
 when the Northwest boom first started. It was 
 all right for Philip. He could do surveying, 
 and then he got to dipping into real estate. 
 But there was no chance for me; so I started 
 for the white lights. While I was looking 
 around here I took on anything that would 
 furnish a meal ticket. Oh, you can't starve 
 Millie! I did fancy ironin' in a hand laundry, 
 was window demonstrator for an electric vi- 
 brator concern, did a turn as a dress model,
 
 HOW MILLIE SHOOK THE JINX 91 
 
 and sold soda checks in a drugstore. They 
 don't load you down on payday in any of them 
 places; but that didn't worry me. I was sizing 
 up the good things, and I'd about decided on 
 the front row of a musical comedy for mine, 
 when what did I have to go and do but get soft 
 on Tim here ! ' ' 
 
 Tim blushes embarrassed and scrapes his 
 hoof. 
 
 " Enough to wreck most any career, wasn't 
 it? " goes on Millie. " Think of it! Me, who'd 
 come down to New York with my head so full of 
 ambitions there wasn't any room to catch cold, 
 and then in a little over a year to go and marry 
 the first good-natured Irishman that asked 
 me! You see, I'm only half Irish myself, 
 Mother was Argentine Spanish, which makes 
 me so different from Tim. Look at him ! Would 
 you dream he had a bit of sense? But he's 
 oh, he's Tim, that's all. And not many of 'em 
 come better. Driving a motor truck, he was, 
 and satisfied at that. It was up at a Terrace 
 Garden dance we got acquainted. No music at 
 all in his head; but in his feet say, he just 
 naturally has to let his toes follow the tune, 
 and if ragtime hadn't been invented he'd have 
 walked slow all his life. And me? Well, I 
 ought to dance, with Father a born fiddler, and 
 Mother brought up with castanets in her hands. 
 We danced twelve of the fourteen numbers to- 
 gether that night, and I never even noticed he 
 had red hair. I'd been dying to dance for
 
 92 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 months. Some partner, Tim was too. That 
 began it. We joined a class and started learn- 
 ing the new steps,, And almost before I knew 
 it I was Mrs. Moran. We'd been married 
 nearly a month before I woke up to what a fool 
 thing I'd done. There I was, tryin' to feed and 
 clothe two people, besides payin' the rent and 
 furniture installments, all on sixteen per. I 
 got a job as cashier in a quick lunch place next 
 day. Tim didn't like it a bit; did you, Tim! " 
 
 Mr. Moran grins good-natured. 
 
 " That's the way he stormed around at 
 home," says Millie. " But I had a scheme. 
 We'd seen some of this dancing done on the 
 stage, not much better than we could do our- 
 selves. * Tim dear,' says I, ' we've been danc- 
 ing for the fun of it. It's the best thing you 
 do. Now let's make it pay.' He thought I 
 was crazy. I believe he had an idea he was 
 born to drive a gasoline truck, and that it would 
 be wicked to try anything else. But I do the 
 heavy thinking for the Moran family. I nearly 
 starved him until I'd saved out a tenspot. 
 Then I went to the best tango professor I could 
 find and took an hour lesson. Next I taught 
 Tim. We cleared out our little dining room and 
 had our meals off the gas range. My next 
 splurge was a music machine and some dance 
 records. One Saturday Tim brought home two 
 dollars for overtime, and that night we watched 
 Maurice from the second balcony. Then we 
 really began practicing. Why, some nights I
 
 kept him at it for four hours on a stretch. He 
 weighed one hundred and eighty at the start; 
 but now he's down to one hundred and forty- 
 three. But it's been good for him. And trying 
 to keep all those new variations in his head 
 why, he's almost learned to think! Say, you 
 know you can get almost anything by keeping 
 at it. And Tim and I have learned rag dancing, 
 all there is to it, besides some I've made up. 
 All we need now is a chance, and it's such scum 
 as old Bloom that keeps us out. Do you blame 
 me for landing on his hat? " 
 
 " Not me," says I. " And I hope you break 
 in sometime or other." 
 
 11 It's got to be now," says Millie. " I've 
 made Tim quit the truck, and we're down to our 
 last dollar. Think of that! Just when I can 
 see daylight ahead too ! Why, if I knew where 
 I could get hold of two hundred " 
 
 She pauses and gazes around sort of des- 
 perate, until she and Elisha P. Bayne are 
 stariii' at each other. 
 
 I couldn't resist the temptation, either. 
 it There you are," says I. " Mr. Bayne runs a 
 bank. Lendin' money's his business." 
 
 " Really, McCabe! " says Bayne indignant. 
 
 But Millie ain't lettin' any hints get by. 
 ' ' Why wouldn 't someone lend me that much f ' 
 says she, gazin' earnest at me once more. 
 * ' Just two hundred ! I could pay it back in less 
 than six months. Oh, I'm sure I could! Mr. 
 McCabe, wouldn't you? "
 
 94 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 Almost took my breath away, the quick way 
 she turned my josh back on me. " Why," says 
 I, " I I might on security." 
 
 " Security? " says she, kind of vague. Then 
 all of a sudden she brightens up. ' ' Why, yes ; 
 of course you'd want security. I'd put up 
 Tim." 
 
 " Eh? " says I, and something of the kind 
 comes from Timothy too. 
 
 <fc He can always earn from twelve to fifteen 
 a week," says Millie, eager. " You could have 
 ten of it for twenty weeks. We could live in 
 one room, and I would keep things running. 
 Honest, if we don't make a go of it we'll come 
 back and pay up." 
 
 " But what's the scheme? " says I. " Going 
 off somewhere, are you? " 
 
 " That's what I want the money for, to take 
 us there," says she. " I I don't want to tell 
 the rest. I haven't even told Tim. But we can 
 win out. I'm sure we can if you'll stake us. 
 Won't you, please, Professor McCabe? ' 
 
 And I expect it was all due to that sneer of 
 Elisha P. Bayne 's. For while this was about as 
 batty a business proposition as I ever had put 
 up to me, this scheme of Millie's for hockin' 
 her hubby, I'd got more or less int 'rested in her 
 yarn. And it struck me that a girl who'd done 
 what she had wa'n't any quitter. Elisha puts 
 on such a hard, cold sneer too ; and comin' from 
 this wise, foxy old near-plute who'd been 
 playin' lead pipe cinches all his life, I expect,
 
 "SAY, I'M A BEAR FOR PARIS."
 
 HOW MOJJE SHOOK THE JINX 95 
 
 and never lettin' go of a nickel until he had a 
 dime's worth of goods in his fist well, it got 
 to me, all right. 
 
 11 You win," says I, flashin' my roll and 
 startin' to count off the twenties. 
 
 " But, McCabe! " gasps Elisha P. " Surely 
 you're not going to lend two hundred dollars 
 to to such a person as this? " 
 
 " Yep," says I. " This is my foolish day. 
 And I'm goin' to write you a check for two 
 hundred more for a six months' option on that 
 Sucker Brook tract. Here you are, Mrs. 
 Moran. Never mind the ticket for Tim. I'm 
 takin' your word." 
 
 " Talk about miracles! " says Millie, countin' 
 the money dazed. 
 
 " Bless you, Sorr! " says Tim husky as I 
 shows 'em out. 
 
 And I finds Elisha P. sittin' there rubbin' 
 his hands expectant. He must have sus- 
 picioned I was easy all the while, or he wouldn't 
 have hung on so; but after this exhibition I 
 expect he felt it was only a matter of makin' a 
 few passes and then walkin' off with everything 
 but my shirt. Fact is, though, I'd had some 
 new dope on this property, and while it looked 
 like a thirty-to-one shot I thought I'd take a 
 chance. Course, he tries to close the deal out- 
 right; but the option is as far as I'll go. 
 
 For weeks after that, though, I carried four 
 hundred on the books with a minus sign in 
 front. Then I crossed it off altogether. Not a
 
 96 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 word from the Morans. Nothing doing in the 
 way of buying booms around Sucker Brook. 
 But you got to stand some losses now and then 
 if you're goin' to keep in line for an occasional 
 big cleanup. And, anyway, it was worth while 
 to head Elisha P. Bayne's boob list. You ought 
 to see the sarcastic smiles he used to shoot over 
 when we'd meet and he'd ask if I'd heard from 
 my dancing friends yet. Say, I expect I fur- 
 nished the one joke of his life. 
 
 I did bank on gettin' back something from 
 Millie, though, if only a money order for ten 
 on account. But all through June and July, 
 clear into August, not a whisper. Whatever 
 her scheme had been, it must have gone wrong. 
 
 And then here one mornin' last week as I'm 
 gazin' idle out the front window onto 42d-st., 
 up rolls a taxi, and out climbs a couple that 
 you might have said had been shot over by 
 aeroplane from the Rue de Rivoli. Couldn't 
 tell that so much from her getup as from the 
 Frenchy hat and boulevard whiskers he's 
 sportin'. First brick red imperial I ever re- 
 member seem' too. It ain't until they've 
 climbed the stairs and walked in the studio 
 door, though, that I even had a glimmer as to 
 who they was. But one glance at them black 
 eyes of the lady's was enough. 
 
 "Well, I'll be singed!" says I. "The 
 Morans! " 
 
 " Of London and Paris," adds Millie. 
 
 1 ' Gwan ! ' ' says I.
 
 HOW MILLIE SHOOK THE JINX 97 
 
 " Show him, Tim," says she. At which 
 Timothy extracts from the inside of his silk 
 tile a billboard poster announcing the comin', 
 for a limited engagement only, of those Euro- 
 pean tango wizards, Mons. and Mile. Moran. 
 
 " I cabled our agents we wouldn't sail 
 until we'd seen a sample of the paper," says 
 Millie. 
 
 " Gee! " says I. " You must have got 
 next! " 
 
 " Did we? " says Millie. " My word! Why, 
 when we hit London the craze was just striking 
 in over there. We was among the advance 
 guard. Say, we hadn't been over ten days be- 
 fore we headed the bill at the Alcazar as the 
 famous New York tango artists. Inside of two 
 weeks more we were doing three turns a night, 
 with all kinds of private dates on the side. Say, 
 would you believe it? I've danced with a real 
 Duke! And Tim why if it hadn't been for 
 me on the spot there 'd been no telling what 
 would have happened. Those English society 
 women are the limit. Then Paris. Ah, ma 
 chere Paris! Say, I'm a bear for Paris. Didn't 
 we soak the price on when that Moulin Rouge 
 guy came after us, though? Ma foil Say, he 
 used to weep when he paid me the money. 
 * Mon Dieu! Five hundred francs for so small 
 a danse! ' But he paid. Trust Millie Moran! 
 Say, I collected a few glad rags over there too. 
 What about this one? " 
 
 " It don't need any Paris label," says I.
 
 98 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 " Don't see how you got upstairs in it, 
 though.? 
 
 11 I can do a cartwheel in it," says she. 
 We've learned to handle ourselves some, Tim 
 and I. And now I guess I'll take him out of 
 hock. You'll find two hundred gold in the 
 package. ' ' 
 
 " Thanks," says I, openin' the long envelope. 
 " But what's this other? " 
 
 "Oh, that!" says she. "Interest. Deed 
 for a few lots in the new North Addition to 
 Saskatoon." 
 
 "Tut, tut!" says I. "I can't take 'em. 
 That wa'n't any loan I staked you to; just 
 bread on the waters." 
 
 " Well, you can't kick if it comes back a ham 
 sandwich," says she. " Besides, the lots stand 
 in your name now. They were a mile out of 
 town when I bought 'em ; but Brother Phil says 
 the city's bulged that way since. They've got 
 the boom, you know. That's where we've been 
 sending all our spare salary. Phil's down here 
 to see us open." 
 
 "Eh! "says I. " Not the surveyor! " 
 
 " He still does some of that," says she. 
 
 " Do you suppose," says I, " I could get him 
 to do a little stunt for me while he's here? ' 
 
 "Do I? " says she. " Why, he knows all 
 about it. Brother Phil will go the limit for 
 you." 
 
 Uh-huh. Philip was up to all the fine points 
 of the game, and the imitation he gave of layin'
 
 HOW MILLIE SHOOK THE JINX 99 
 
 out a two-million-dollar factory site along 
 Sucker Brook was perfect, even to loadin' his 
 transit and target jugglers into a tourin' car 
 right in front of the Bockhurst Trust Company. 
 
 Maybe that's how it come to be noised 
 around that the Western Electric Company 
 was goin' to locate a big plant on the tract. 
 Anyway, before night I had three of the syndi- 
 cate biddin' against each other confidential; but 
 when Elisha P. runs it up to four figures, of- 
 ferin' to meet me at the station with a certified 
 check, I closes the deal with a bang. 
 
 " Swifty," says I, hangin' up the 'phone, 
 " trot around to the Casino and get a lower 
 box for to-night, while I find a florist's and 
 order an eight-foot horseshoe of American 
 beauties." 
 
 " Chee! " says Swifty, gawpin'. " What 'a 
 doin'? " 
 
 "I'm tryin' to celebrate a doubleheader," 
 says L
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 REVERSE ENGLISH ON SONNY BOY 
 
 " Do you know, Shorty," says J. Bayard 
 Steele, balancin' his bamboo walkin' stick 
 thoughtful on one forefinger, " I'm getting to 
 be a regular expert in altruism. ' ' 
 
 " Can't you take something for it? " says I. 
 
 But he waves aside my comedy stab and 
 proceeds, chesty and serious, " Really, I am, 
 though. It's this philanthropic executor work 
 that I've been dragged into doing by that 
 whimsical will of your friend, the late Pyramid 
 Gordon, of course. I must admit that at first it 
 came a little awkward, not being used to think- 
 ing much about others; but now why, I'm 
 getting so I can tell almost at a glance what 
 people want and how to help them! " 
 
 " Huh! " says I. " Then you're some wiz- 
 ard. It often bothers me to dope out just what 
 I need myself; and when it comes to decidin' 
 for other folks Say, have you tackled en- 
 velope No. 4 on Pyramid's list yet? ' 
 
 " I have," says J. Bayard, smilin' confident. 
 " Peculiar case too. A month or so ago I 
 should have been puzzled. Now it seems very 
 simple. I've done all my investigating, made 
 
 100
 
 REVERSE ENGLISH ON SONNY BOY 101 
 
 my plans, and if you will run downtown to a 
 lawyer's office with me after luncheon we shall 
 meet the beneficiaries-to-be and fix up the de- 
 tails of a nice little deed of kindness of which 
 I am the proud author. ' ' 
 
 " Fat commission in it for you, eh I " says I. 
 
 J. Bayard looks pained and hurt. " Really," 
 says he, " I hadn't thought of that. No, the 
 outlay will be slight. In fact, it's merely a mat- 
 ter of launching a young man in society." 
 
 " Well, well! " says I. " That's a husky job 
 for a couple of grown men like us, ain't it! 
 Who's the young gent Clarence what? " 
 
 " Ever hear of Hungry Jim Hammond? " 
 says he. 
 
 I had, but couldn't quite place him; so J. 
 Bay,ard supplies the description. He'd started 
 out as a railroad man, Hammond had, back in 
 the days when Pyramid Gordon was first be- 
 ginnin' to discover that swappin' hot air for 
 votin' shares was perfectly good business so 
 long as you could get away with the goods. 
 Only Hammond was the real thing. He was a 
 construction expert. 
 
 Mr. Gordon had found him on the payroll of 
 a line he'd annexed by a midnight deal; con- 
 cluded he knew too much about the job to be a 
 safe man to have around; so he transfers him 
 to the Far West and sets him to work on a 
 scheme to lay out a road parallelin' the South- 
 ern Pacific. Hammond couldn't tell it was a 
 stall. He blazes merrily ahead surveyin' a 
 
 i
 
 102 SHORTY MoCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 right of way across three States, and had got 
 as far as Death Valley when the rumor comes 
 to camp that this new line is all a fake. 
 
 Hammond had a gang of twenty-five or thirty 
 men with him, and his weekly pay check hadn't 
 shown up for about a month. But he couldn't 
 believe that Pyramid had laid down on him. 
 He'd got mighty int 'rested in buildin' that road 
 across the desert, and had dreamed some rosy 
 dreams about it. But his men felt diff'rent. 
 They wanted action on the cashier's part, or 
 they'd quit. Hammond begged 'em to stay. 
 He even blew in his own bank account settlin' 
 part of the back wages. But inside of three 
 days his crew had 'dwindled to a Chinese cook 
 and a Greaser mule driver. Took him a couple 
 of weeks more to get wise to the fact that he 
 was stranded there in the sand, six miles from 
 a water hole, with a few cases of canned beef 
 and a sack of corn meal. 
 
 Even then he didn't give up for good. He 
 made his way back to a stage station and sent 
 through a wire to Pyramid askin' for instruc- 
 tions. More than a month he waited, with no 
 word from Gordon. Seems that by then Pyra- 
 mid was too busy with other things. He'd 
 cashed in on his bluff and was sortin' a new 
 hand. And maybe he wa'n't anxious to have 
 Hammond come East again. Anyway, he let 
 Mm shift. 
 
 That was when Hammond came so near 
 starvin'. But he didn't quite. For a year or
 
 EEVEESE ENGLISH ON SONNY BOY 103 
 
 more lie managed to live somehow. Then one 
 day he drove a team of boneyard mules into 
 Blue Dog with a.wagonload of stuff that the 
 natives stared at. It was white, shiny stuff. 
 Hammond said it was borax. He'd discovered 
 a big deposit of it out there in the blisterin' 
 sand. He was goin' to ship it back East and 
 sell it. They thought he was nutty. He wasn't, 
 though. On East they was usin' a lot of borax 
 and demandin' more. 
 
 With a few thousand back of him Hammond 
 might have got to be the Borax King right 
 then ; but as it was he held onto an interest big 
 enough to make him quite a plute, and inside of 
 a year he was located in Denver and earnin' 
 his nickname of Hungry Jim. His desert ap- 
 petite had stayed with him, you see, and such 
 little whims as orderin' a three-inch tenderloin 
 steak frescoed with a pound of mushrooms and 
 swimmin' in the juice squeezed from a pair of 
 canvasback ducks got to be a reg'lar thing for 
 him. 
 
 It was there he met and married the husky 
 built head waitress and moved into a double- 
 breasted mansion up on Capitol Hill. Also he 
 begun wearin' diamond shirtstuds and givin' 
 wine dinners. 
 
 " But, like others of his kind," goes on J. 
 Bayard, " his luck didn't last. Because he'd 
 made one big strike, he thought he knew the 
 mining game from top to bottom. He lost 
 hundreds of thousands on wild ventures. His
 
 104 SHOETY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 long drawn out suit against Pyramid was an- 
 other expensive luxury ; for in the end Gordon 
 beat him. 
 
 " It was Hammond's big appetite that 
 finished him off, though, acute indigestion. 
 So that is why Pyramid leaves us this item in 
 his list : ' The widow or other survivor of James 
 B. Hammond.' Well, I've found them both, 
 Mrs. Hammond and her son Eoyce. I haven't 
 actually seen either of 'em as yet; but I have 
 located Mrs. Hammond's attorney and had sev- 
 eral conferences with him. And what do you 
 think? She won't take a dollar of Gordon's 
 money for herself; nor will Eoyce directly. 
 There's one thing, however, that she will prob- 
 ably not refuse, any social assistance we may 
 give to her son. That's her chief ambition, it 
 seems, to see Eoyce get into what she con- 
 siders smart society. Well, what do you say, 
 McCabe? Can't we help? " 
 
 " Depends a good deal on Eoyce," says I. 
 11 Course, if he's too raw a roughneck " 
 
 " Precisely! " breaks in J. Bayard. " And 
 as the son of such a man we must look for 
 rather a crude youth, I suppose. But in order 
 to carry out the terms of Gordon's will we must 
 do some kind and generous act for these people. 
 This seems to be our only chance. Now here is 
 my plan. ' ' 
 
 And he's comin' on, J. Bayard is! He pro- 
 poses that we use our combined pull with Mr. 
 Twombley-Crane to land Eoyce for one con-
 
 EEVERSE ENGLISH ON SONNY BOY 105 
 
 secutive night, anyway plunk in the middle of 
 the younger set. He's leased a nice furnished 
 cottage from one of the Meadowbrook bunch, 
 not more'n a mile from the Twombley-Crane 
 estate, got the promise of havin' the young- 
 ster's name put up at the Hunt Club for the 
 summer privileges, and has arranged to have 
 mother and son move in right in the height of 
 the season. 
 
 " In time for the Twombley-Cranes' big cos- 
 tume ball? " I suggests. 
 
 " Nothing less," says he. " And if we could 
 manage to have them invited to that well, 
 what more could a fond parent ask? " 
 
 "H-m-m-m!" says I, rubbin' my chin. 
 " Might get ourselves disliked if we sprung a 
 ringer on 'em that way. Course, if this Eoyce 
 boy could be trained to pull a broad A now and 
 then, and be drilled into doin' a maxixe that 
 would pass, I might take a chance. Mrs. Mc- 
 Cabe could get their names on the guest list, all 
 right. But I'd have to have a peek at Sonny 
 first." 
 
 You see, with an ex-waitress mother, and a 
 Hungry Jim for a father, Koyce might be too 
 tough for anything but a Coney Island spiel- 
 fest. In that case J. Bayard would have to dig 
 up a new scheme. So we starts out to look 'em 
 up. 
 
 Accordin' to schedule we should have found 
 'em both waitin' for us at the lawyer's, sittin' 
 side by side and lookin' scared. But the
 
 106 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 boy that shows us into the reception room 
 says how Mrs. Hammond is in the private 
 office with the boss, and it looks like Sonny 
 was late. 
 
 "I'll tell you," says I to J. Bayard. " You 
 push in and interview Mother, while I stick 
 around out here and wait for the other half of 
 the sketch." 
 
 He agrees to that, and has disappeared be- 
 hind the ground-glass door when I discovers 
 this slick-haired young gent sittin' at a desk 
 over by the window, a buddin' law clerk, most 
 likely. And by way of bein' sociable I remarks 
 casual that I hear how McGraw is puttin' Tes- 
 reau on the mound again to-day against the 
 Cubs. 
 
 That don't get much of a rise out of him. 
 " Aw, rully! " says he. 
 
 " I expect you'll be hikin' out for the grand- 
 stand yourself pretty quick? " I goes on. 
 
 11 No," says he, shruggin' his shoulders an- 
 noyed. " I take no interest in baseball; none 
 whatever, I assure you." 
 
 11 Excuse my mentionin' it, then," says I. 
 " But just what is your line, croquet? ' 
 
 " My favorite recreation," says he, " is 
 dawncing." And with that he turns away like 
 he'd exhausted the subject. 
 
 But this gives me an idea. Maybe he could 
 be hired to coach Royce. 
 
 "It's a thrillin' sport," says I. " And, by 
 the way, there's a young chap due to show up
 
 REVERSE ENGLISH ON SONNY BOY 107 
 
 here soon. I wonder if you've seen him around 
 before, ^young Hammond? " 
 
 * ' I beg pardon, ' ' says he, ' ' but do you refer 
 to Royce Hammond? " 
 
 "That's the guy," says I. "Kind of a 
 husky young hick, eh? " 
 
 He stares at me cold and disapprove '. " I 
 am Royce Hammond! " says he. 
 
 You could have bought me for a yesterday's 
 rain check. " Wha-a-at! " says I, gawpin*. 
 " You you are " 
 
 Say, come to look him over close, I might 
 have known he was no ten-a-week process 
 server. He's costumed neat but expensive, and 
 his lily-white hands are manicured to the last 
 notch. Nice lookin' youth he is, with a good 
 head on him and a fine pair of shoulders. And 
 for conversation he uses the kind of near-Eng- 
 lish accent you hear along the Harvard Gold 
 Coast. Cul-chaw? Why, it fairly dripped from 
 Royce, like moisture from the ice water tank 
 on a hot day! 
 
 " Excuse," says I. "I'm Professor Mc- 
 Cabe, and I was only " 
 
 " Oh, yes," says he, sighin' weary, " I un- 
 derstand. Something absurd about a will, isn't 
 it! Mother is quite keen over it; and I wish 
 she wouldn't, you know." 
 
 " Eh? " says I, a bit dizzy from tryin' to 
 follow him. 
 
 " Oh, I've no doubt you mean well enough," 
 he goes on; " but we cawn't accept favors from
 
 108 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 utter strangers really, we cawn't. And be- 
 sides, old Gordon was such a rotter! " 
 
 To relieve his feelin's he lights a cigarette 
 and gives me the shoulder once more. I felt 
 like I'd been slapped on the wrist and sent to 
 stand in the corner. 
 
 " Maybe you'd like my apology in writin'? ' 
 says I. " Just point out a real dusty spot on 
 the floor, and I'll grovel in it. But remember, 
 Son, all we laid out to do, in our humble way, 
 was to give you a boost. So don't be too hard 
 on us." 
 
 He smiles patronizin' at that. " No offense 
 intended, I'm suah," says he. " I merely 
 wished to make clear my own position in this 
 ridiculous affair. Of course, if Mother insists, 
 
 I presume I must Bah Jove! Here they 
 
 are, though! ' 
 
 And out through the door comes J. Bayard 
 and the lawyer, escortin' a stunnin '-built lady 
 with her face half hid by veils. I'd been intro- 
 duced too, and was just handin' her a chair, 
 when we got a good square look at each other. 
 So it was simultaneous. She gives a little gasp 
 and stiffens, and I expect I did some open-face 
 work myself. I glances from her to J. Bayard 
 and stares foolish. 
 
 " Did you say Mrs. Hammond? " says I. 
 
 " Of course, McCabe," says he sort of peev- 
 ish. * ' You know I explained beforehand. ' ' 
 
 " Yes," says I; " but but " 
 
 Then the lady steps to the front herself, her
 
 REVERSE ENGLISH ON SONNY BOY 109 
 
 chin up and her lips pressed tight. " Pro- 
 fessor McCabe and I have met before," says 
 she, " under well, under different circum- 
 stances. That is all. And now, Mr. Steele, you 
 spoke of securing an invitation for my son and 
 myself to an important social affair. At just 
 whose house, please? ' 
 
 " Why," says J. Bayard, " at Mr. Twom- 
 bley-Crane 's. ' ' 
 
 She don't wince. Near as I could tell she 
 don't make a move, and a second later she's 
 turned to me with a sketchy sort of a smile. 
 " I think I may trust you to explain to Mr. 
 Steele later on," says she, " how impossible it 
 would be for me to accept such an invitation." 
 
 I nods, still gawpin' at her. You'd 'most 
 thought that would have been hint enough for 
 J. Bayard; but he's such a fathead at times, and 
 he's so strong for carryin' through any propo- 
 sition of his own, that it don't get to him. 
 
 " But, my dear lady," says he, " such an 
 opportunity! Why, the Twombley-Cranes, you 
 know, are " 
 
 " Ah, ditch it, J. B. ! " I cuts in, and shakes 
 my head menacin'. 
 
 The lady smiles grateful and lifts one hand. 
 11 It's no use," says she. " I've given up. 
 And you might as well know the whole story at 
 once; Royce too. I didn't mean that he should 
 ever know; but I see now that he is bound to 
 hear it sooner or later. Professor McCabe, you 
 tell them."
 
 110 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 It's some attentive audience I faced too; J. 
 Bayard starin' puzzled, the lawyer with his 
 eyes squinted hard at her, and young Royce 
 growin' pale around the gills. It was that look 
 of his that hurried me on. 
 
 " Why, it ain't so much," says I; " only) 
 when I knew you you was housekeeper at the 
 Twombley-Cranes, wa'n't you? " 
 
 11 Mother! " says the young gent choky, 
 jumpin' to his feet. 
 
 " I was," says she. " That was four years 
 ago, when Royce was a freshman. Very glad I 
 was to get the position too, and not a little 
 pleased that I was able to fill it. Why? Be- 
 cause it gave me a chance to learn there the 
 things I wanted to know ; the things I needed to 
 know, Royce, as your mother." 
 
 But he only gazes at her blank and shocked. 
 
 " Can't you understand, Royce? " she goes 
 on pleadin'. " You know how we have moved 
 from place to place; how at times my cards 
 have read ' Mrs. James R. Hammond,' then 
 * Mrs. J. Royce Hammond,' and finally ' Mrs. 
 Royce Hammond ' ? But it was all useless. Al- 
 ways someone came who knew, and after that 
 well, I was just the widow of Hungry Jim Ham- 
 mond. 
 
 " Not that I cared for myself. I was never 
 ashamed of Hungry Jim while he lived. He 
 was a real man, Jim Hammond was, honest and 
 kind and brave. And if he was crude and 
 rough, it was only because he'd lived that way,
 
 REVERSE ENGLISH ON SONNY BOY 111 
 
 because he'd had to. He let them call him 
 Hungry Jim too. No one ever knew him to 
 resent it. But it hurt, just the same. He tried 
 to live it down, there in Denver, tried to be 
 refined and polite ; but those years in the desert 
 couldn't be wiped out so easily. He was Hun- 
 gry Jim to the last. 
 
 " He wanted his son to be different, though. 
 * Outfit him to travel with the best, Annie,' he 
 used to say to me during those last days, ' and 
 see that he gets on a polish. Promise, now ! ' I 
 promised. And I've done as well as I could. 
 I've lived for that. But I soon found that real 
 refinement was something you couldn't order at 
 the store. I found that before I could get it for 
 Royce I must have at least a speaking acquaint- 
 ance with it myself. 
 
 " That meant associating with nice people. 
 But nice people didn't care to mix with Mrs. 
 Jim Hammond. I didn't blame them for shut- 
 ting their front doors to me. I had to get in, 
 though. So I slipped in by the back way as 
 housekeeper. I kept my eyes and ears open. I 
 picked up their little tricks of speech and man- 
 ner, their ways of doing things. I toned my 
 voice down, schooled myself, until I knew the 
 things that Royce ought to know. It wasn't 
 easy, especially the giving him up during his 
 holidays and sending him off with his college 
 friends, when I wanted him to be with me. Oh, 
 how much I did miss him those two summers ! 
 But I had promised Jim, and and well, I
 
 112 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 think I've made of Royce what he wanted me 
 to make of him." ; 
 
 Somehow or other, as she stops, we all turns 
 towards young Hammond. His face ain't pale 
 any more. It's well pinked up. 
 
 " By Jove! " says J. Bayard enthusiastic. 
 " But that's what I call real pluck, Mrs. Ham- 
 mond. And your son does you credit too. So 
 what if the Twombley-Cranes might remember 
 you as a former housekeeper? They don't 
 know the young man, needn't know just who he 
 is. Why not accept for him? Why not give 
 him a chance? What do you say, McCabe? " 
 
 "Sure!' says I. "I'm backin' him to 
 qualify. ' ' 
 
 1 1 It might mean, ' ' goes on J. Bayard insimi- 
 atin', " an opportunity to well, to meet the 
 right girl, you know." 
 
 Mrs. Hammond draws in her breath sharp 
 and clasps her hands tight. I could see the pic- 
 ture she was watchin' on the screen, Royce 
 and a real swell young lady plutess trippin' 
 towards the altar; maybe a crest on the fam'ly 
 note paper. 
 
 " Oh ! " says she. ' l And he should have the 
 chance, shouldn't he? Well then, he must go. 
 And you can just leave me out." 
 
 That seemed to settle it, and we was all takin' 
 a deep breath, when Royce steps to the center 
 of the stage. He puts his arm gentle around, 
 Mrs. Hammond and pats her on the shoulder. 
 
 " Sorry, Mother," says he, " but I'm going
 
 REVERSE ENGLISH ON SONNY BOY 113 
 
 to do nothing of the sort. You're an old dear, 
 and the best mother a boy ever had. I never 
 knew how much you had given up for me, never 
 dreamed. But from now on it's going to be 
 different. It's my turn now! " 
 
 " But but, Royce," protests Mrs. Ham- 
 mond, " you you don't quite understand. We 
 can't go on living as we have. Our income isn't 
 so much as it was once, and " 
 
 < i 
 
 I know," said Royce. " I had a talk with 
 your attorney last week. It's the fault of that 
 Honduras rubber plantation, where most of our 
 funds are tied up. That Alvarez, your rascally 
 Spanish superintendent, has been robbing you 
 right and left. Well, I'm going to put a stop 
 to that." 
 
 " You, Royce! " says Mother. 
 
 " Yes," says he quiet but earnest, "I'm go- 
 ing down there and fire him. I'm going to run 
 the plantation myself for awhile." 
 
 " Why, Royce! " gasps Mrs. Hammond. 
 
 He smiles and pats her on the shoulder again. 
 11 I know," he goes on. " I seem useless 
 enough. I've been trained to shine at dinner 
 parties, and balls, and tlies dansants. I sup- 
 pose I can too. And I've learned to sound my 
 final G's, and to use the right forks, and how 
 to make a parting speech to my hostess. So 
 you've kept your promise to Father. But I've 
 been thinking it all over lately. That isn't the 
 sort of person I want to be. You say Father 
 was a real man. I want to be a real man too. I
 
 114 SHOETY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 mean to try, anyway. This little affair with 
 Alvarez ought to test me. They say he's rather 
 a bad one, that he can't be fired. We'll see 
 about that. There's a steamer for Belize next 
 Thursday. I'm going to sail on her. Will you 
 go along too? " 
 
 For a minute they stood there, Mother and 
 Sonny boy, gazin' into each other's eyes with- 
 out savin' a word; and then well, we turns 
 our backs as they goes to a clinch and Mother 
 turns on the sprinkler. 
 
 But J. Bayard's programme for helpin' 
 Boyce break into the younger set is bugged for 
 fair. Instead we 've dug up an expert in rubber 
 farmin' and are preparin' to send him down as 
 first assistant to the classiest plantation man- 
 ager that ever started for Honduras. Mrs. 
 Hammond announces that she's goin' too. 
 
 " There's good stuff in that young chap," 
 says J. Bayard. " He isn't the son of Hungry 
 Jim for nothing. I'll bet he wins out! " 
 
 " Win or lose," says I, " he's ducked bein' a 
 parlor rat for life, which is something."
 
 CHAPTER VIH 
 
 GUMMING GOPHER TO THE MAP 
 
 I'D heard the front office door pushed open 
 and listened to a couple of heavy steps on the 
 floor runner before I glances round to find this 
 high party with the wide, stooped shoulders and 
 the rugged face standin' there beamin' at me 
 genial and folksy. In one hand he has a green 
 cloth bag with somethin' square in it, and in 
 the other he has a broad-brimmed soft hat 
 about the color of Camembert cheese. A tank 
 station delegate and no mistake! 
 
 11 The Horse Dealers' Exchange is over east 
 of Fourth avenue, about eight blocks down," 
 says I. 
 
 He chuckles good-natured and shakes his 
 head. " You got two more comin' to you, 
 Brother," says he. 
 
 " Is it sawmill machinery you're lookin' for, 
 then, ' ' says I, " or the home office of Marriage 
 Bells? " 
 
 11 Struck out! " says he. " Now it's my bat. 
 Are you J. Bayard Steele, Mister! ' 
 
 " Honest, now," says I, " do I look it! " 
 
 " Then I reckon you're the other one Pro- 
 fessor McCabe," says he. 
 
 115
 
 116 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 1 1 Line hit over center field ! ' ' says I. 
 " What's the follow up to that? " 
 
 " No hurry," says he. " Have a button 
 first." 
 
 " Eh? " says I, gawpin', as he tosses the 
 green bag and yellow lid onto a chair, dives into 
 his side pocket, and proceeds to pin something 
 on my coat lapel. 
 
 " Plenty of 'em," says he. " Here, take 
 some for your friends. How's that for a 
 slogan, anyway? ' Go to Gopher! ' Good ad- 
 vice too. Gopher's the garden spot of the uni- 
 verse. ' ' 
 
 " Gopher what where is it? " says I. 
 
 " Why," says he, " Gopher, U.S. A. That's 
 the idea! I'm from there. Hubbs is the name, 
 Nelson Hubbs, secretary of the Gopher 
 Board of Trade, and I never miss a chance to 
 give Gopher a boost." 
 
 " If this is a sample," says I, " you don't 
 need to make an affidavit. But you wanted to 
 see J. Bayard Steele, didn't you? " 
 
 It was as I'd suspicioned. Mr. Hubbs was 
 No. 5 on the kindly deeds list that Pyramid 
 Gordon had wished on Steele and me. We was 
 to apply soothin' acts and financial balm to 
 all the old grouches that Pyramid had left 
 behind him, you remember, on a commission 
 basis. 
 
 Seems J. Bayard had been tracin' Hubbs, up 
 by mail for more'n a month, and at that it was 
 just by chance one of his letters had been for-
 
 GUMMING GOPHEE TO THE MAP 117 
 
 warded to the right place. So Hubbs had come 
 on to see what it was all about. 
 
 " Course," says he, "I remember this Gor- 
 don; but I didn't think he would me, and I 
 can't see how settlin' up his will could " 
 
 " Threw the hooks into you sometime or 
 other, didn't he? " says I. 
 
 " I dun 'no's you'd rightly call it that, 
 either," says Hubbs, runnin' his long fingers 
 reflective through his heavy mop of wavy hair. 
 " I was station agent and dispatcher out at 
 Kayuse Creek the only time we met up and 
 of all the forsaken, dreary, one-mule towns 
 along the line that was the worst. I'd been 
 there a year and a half, with no signs of ever 
 gettin' out, and I'd got so I hated every human 
 being in sight, includin' myself. I even hated 
 the people in the trains that went through, be- 
 cause they was goin' somewhere, and I wasn't. 
 You know how it is." 
 
 "Well?" says I. 
 
 " So when this special pulled in, two private 
 cars and a blind baggage," he'goes on, " and a 
 potty conductor asked me for a clear track to 
 Omaha, I turned him down flat. Might of done 
 it, you know, for the express was four hours 
 behind schedule; but I was just too ornery. I 
 let on I hadn't got the order, made 'em back 
 their old special on a siding, and held 'em there 
 all one blisterin' hot afternoon, while they come 
 in by turns and cussed me. But your Mr. Gor- 
 don was the only one that talked straight to the
 
 118 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 point. * Let us through, or I'll see that you're 
 fired before morning! ' says he, and fired I 
 was. The night freight dropped. a new agent, 
 and by breakfast time I was a wanderer on the 
 face of the earth. Which was the best thing, 
 Sir, that ever happened to me! I might have 
 stuck in Kayuse Creek until this day." 
 
 " How long was it until you discovered this 
 Gopher spot? " says I. " Near a dozen years," 
 says he, " and during that time, Sir, I've had 
 a whirl at more different kinds of industry than 
 you'd believe existed, from runnin' a self- 
 binder to canvassin' for the Life of James A. 
 Garfield. It was Possum Oil that brought me 
 good luck. Boiled linseed with camphor and a 
 little tincture of iron was what it was really 
 made of; but there was a 'possum picture on 
 the label, and I've had testimonials provin' that 
 it has cured nearly every disease known to man, 
 from ringworm to curvature of the spine. I'd 
 worked up a fifteen-minute spiel too that was a 
 gem of street corner eloquence, and no matter 
 where I stuck up my flare I could do an even- 
 in 's business runnin' from ten to forty dollars. 
 
 " So when I hit them corn fritters of Mrs. 
 Whipple's that night in Gopher I had no more 
 notion of quittin' the road than a prairie chicken 
 has of breakin' into a hencoop. But say, 
 Brother, no human being ever made tastier 
 corn fritters than them. * Young lady,' says I 
 to the half-grown girl that waited on table, 
 * who built these? ' ' Mrs. Whipple,' says she.
 
 GUMMING GOPHER TO THE MAR 119 
 
 ' Present my best compliments to her,' says I, 
 1 and tell me where I can find Mr. Whipple. I 
 want to congratulate him.' * Lawzee! Whip- 
 pie? ' says she. ' Why, he died back East goin' 
 on six years ago.' ' Then,' says I, ' I'll take 
 the message to Mrs. Whipple myself. She's 
 around, I suppose? ' ' No,' says the girl. 
 
 * Soon's she got supper ready she had to go 
 down to the square 'lectioneerin'. She's run- 
 nin' for Mayor.' 
 
 " Say, Professor McCabe, it was a fact! Be- 
 sides conductin' her boardin' house and bein' 
 president of the Civic League, she was candi- 
 date for Mayor on an independent ticket. Got 
 it too, Sir! They have the vote out in our 
 State, you know. 
 
 " Well, hearin' that sort of cooled me down 
 a bit. I thought she'd be a hatchet-faced fe- 
 male with a voice like a guinea hen. So I didn 't 
 see her until I was all packed up to leave next 
 day and hunted her up to pay my bill. And say, 
 Brother, doggoned if she don't turn out to be 
 about the plumpest, cheeriest, winningest little 
 body that ever I see unclaimed ! Nothin' stand- 
 offish about her, either. * There! ' says she. 
 
 * Look at you, going off with all that dandruff 
 on your coat collar! Mamie, bring me that 
 whisk broom.' * Ma'am,' says I, when she'd 
 finished the job and added a little pat to my 
 necktie, * my name is Hubbs. It's a homely 
 name, and I'm a homely man ; but if there's any 
 chance of ever persuadin' you to be Mrs. Nel-
 
 120 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 son Hubbs, I'll stick around this town until the 
 crack of doom.' ' Now don't be foolish,' says 
 she. * Run along. I'm busy.' Wa'n't so en- 
 couragin', was it? * Let's see,' says I, * what 
 place is this anyhow? ' ' The idea! ' says she. 
 * It's Gopher; and let me tell you, Mr. Hubbs, 
 some day it's going to be one of the finest cities 
 west of Chicago! ' ' While you're in it,' says 
 I, ' it's goin' to be good enough for me. I'm 
 goin' to stay right here.' 
 
 " Well, that's what I did, Sir. The Gopher 
 Gazette was for sale, and inside of twenty-four 
 hours I'd bought it, one-third cash, and I've 
 been runnin' it ever since. And I've proposed 
 to Mrs. Whipple once a week reg'lar the whole 
 ten months. ' ' 
 
 11 Only to get more of that run-along-now 
 advice? " says I. 
 
 He winks rapid two or three times by way of 
 relievin' his feelin's. " It ain't exactly as bad 
 as that," says he. " I reckon she's kind of got 
 used to my homely face, and if I have any good 
 points at all, you can bet she's found 'em. 
 Anyway, one night a couple of months ago she 
 dropped a hint that was like manna from the 
 sky. I've been livin' on it ever since. * Nel- 
 son,' says she, ' there's only one man I'd have, 
 and that's the man who will put Gopher on the 
 map.' : 
 
 11 Oh-ho! " says I. " Hence the buttons? " 
 
 " That's only part of my scheme," says 
 Hubbs. " The rest I worked out between the
 
 GUMMING GOPHEK TO THE MAP 121 
 
 time I got word from this Mr. Steele and the 
 day I left for New York. Up to then I hadn't 
 thought of comin' East to boost Gopher; but 
 the letter settled me. ' I'm go in' on,' says I to 
 Mrs. Whipple, ' and if Gopher ain't on the map 
 when I come back, I'll never ask you again to 
 change your name to Hubbs. I'll change mine 
 to Dubb! ' So you see, Professor, I ain't got 
 any time to waste. Where can I find Mr. 
 Steele? " 
 
 I gave him directions for locatin' J. Bayard, 
 and off he pikes, swingin' the green bag jaunty 
 in one big paw. He'd been here ten minutes, 
 and he'd told me the story of his life. Now see 
 what Steele gets out of him. 
 
 " Shorty," says J. Bayard, driftin' in lan- 
 guid after lunch and caressjn' his bank presi- 
 dent whiskers approvin' as he camps down by 
 the desk, " the deeper I get into the career of. 
 your late friend, Pyramid Gordon, the more I 
 am amazed at the infinite pains he took to deal 
 unjustly with so many different persons of no 
 account." 
 
 " All of which means, I expect," says I, 
 " that you've been havin' a talk with Hubbs. 
 Well, what you goin' to do for him! ' 
 
 Mr. Steele shrugs his shoulders. " He is 
 simply impossible! " says he. 
 
 " How's that? " says I. 
 
 " I was unable to decide," says J. Bayard, 
 " whether he was mentally unbalanced, or just 
 plain crank. Comes from some absurd little
 
 122 SHOETY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 hole out West, and has but one idea in his head, 
 to boom that place. Tried to pin a beastly 
 button on me. Ah! I see you have one." 
 
 1 ' Sure!" says I. " 'Go to Gopher!' 
 Catchy, ain't it? " 
 
 " Bah! " says he. " What do I care for his 
 little two-by-four village? What does anyone 
 care, save the poor wretches who must live 
 there? And yet he insisted on boring me for 
 one mortal hour with his preposterous schemes. 
 It appears that he has raised an advertising 
 fund of a thousand dollars, and means to open 
 a publicity bureau somewhere downtown." 
 
 " Well, that's enterprisin', ain't it? " says I. 
 
 " It's imbecile! " says J. Bayard. " What 
 can he do with a thousand in New York. You 
 might as well try to sprinkle Central Park with 
 a quart watering can. I told him so. I tried 
 to get out of him too some suggestion as to how 
 we could best carry out the terms of Gordon's 
 crazy will ; some kind and generous act that we 
 could do for him, you know. But he would 
 talk of nothing but Gopher everlastingly and 
 eternally Gopher ! ' ' 
 
 " Yes," says I, " that's his long suit." 
 
 " And do you know what he thinks he's going 
 to do?" goes on Steele. " Why, he's had the 
 nerve to plot out a whole quarter-section 
 around his infernal town, organized a realty 
 company, and had half a million dollars' 
 worth of Gopher Development shares printed! 
 Thinks he's going to unload trash like that here
 
 GUMMING GOPHEE TO THE MAP 123 
 
 in New York! Now what can I do for such a 
 man? " 
 
 "Ain't that right in your line, though? ' 
 says I. 
 
 " It may have been at one time," admits J. 
 Bayard; " but to-day you couldn't give away 
 nickel chances on the national gold reserve. 
 The market is dead. Even the curb brokers 
 have fallen back on racing tin rolling toys and 
 matching quarters." 
 
 "Well, I couldn't dispute it. If anyone knows 
 the phony finance game at all, it's J. Bayard 
 Steele. And the best I could do was to get him 
 to agree to sort of keep track of Hubbs and 
 maybe, after he'd blown all his cash against 
 this bloomin' stunt, step in and send him back 
 to Gopher before he hit the bread line. 
 
 Must have been a week that I didn't hear 
 from either of 'em, and then here the other 
 afternoon J. Bayard calls up on the 'phone. 
 
 * ' Shorty, ' ' says he, 1 1 if you want to see our 
 friend Hubbs reach the pinnacle of his folly, 
 come down to Broad street right away. I'll 
 meet you in front of the Hancock National ! ' : 
 
 As there's no rush on at the studio just then 
 I goes down. 
 
 "It's rich," says Steele. " Actually, that 
 country clown is trying on, right here in New 
 York, the same primitive methods that real es- 
 tate boomers use in the soggy South and the 
 woolly West. Would you believe it? Come 
 have a look."
 
 124 
 
 Well, say, it wa'n't easy gettin' near enough, 
 at that. But we works our way through the 
 mob until we're in front of the buildin', where 
 there 's a big, yellow-lettered sign that reads : 
 
 GOPHER, U.S.A. 
 
 HEADQUARTERS 
 
 Underneath the sign was a big window with 
 the sash out and a sort of platform juttin' over 
 the sidewalk. Just as we arrives out steps 
 Nelson Hubbs, wearin' the same rube rig 
 and carryin' the same green bag. He looks 
 just as big and homely and good-natured as 
 ever. 
 
 " Friends," says he, sweepin' off the alfalfa 
 lid with a flourish, " out in Gopher we always 
 like to open up with a little music; and while I 
 ain't no Caruso, or anything like that, I'm 
 goin' to do my best.'* ( 
 
 A snicker runs through the crowd at that, 
 turnin' to haw-haws as he proceeds to unlimber 
 something from the green bag. It's an ac- 
 cordion, one of these push and pull organs. 
 Believe me, though, he could sing some! 
 Throwin' back his head and shakin' that heavy 
 mop of hair, he roars out deep and strong the 
 first advertisin' solo, I guess, that New York 
 ever heard. 
 
 " Now, Friends, everybody in on the 
 chorus! " he calls. " Every-body! Here she 
 goes!
 
 GUMMING GOPHER TO THE MAP 125, 
 
 " Oh, I want to go to Gopher Gopher 
 Oh, I want to go to Gopher Gopher! 
 The streets are straight, the sky (is high, 
 You'll strike it rich, and live on pie, 
 You can't get sick, and you never die, 
 In Gopher,. U. S. A." 
 
 Did they join in? Say, it was a swing-in' 
 tune, the words was easy to follow, and the 
 crowd was ready for anything. They simply 
 cut loose, and by the time they'd done that 
 chorus two or three times he had 'em right 
 with him. Then he springs his business 
 spiel. 
 
 Talk about your boost orations say, that 
 was a classic! He tells 'em confidential how 
 Gopher is the comin' metropolis of the great 
 West; how, " with its main boulevard laid out 
 along the sinuous, lovely banks of the pellucid 
 Pinto River, and its western boundaries stretch- 
 ing off to the sunset-tinted tops of Soup Kettle 
 Range, it has a scenic setting unsurpassed any- 
 where this side of Switzerland." And when it 
 comes to predictin' how prosperity has picked 
 Gopher for its very own, he goes the limit. 
 Next he tells 'em about the development com- 
 pany and the shares. 
 
 " Remember, Friends," says he, " every 
 share means a front foot, and every front foot 
 a fortune. Send in fifty shares, and we'll give 
 you a deed to a city lot. First come first served, 
 and the early bird laps up the cream. I don't 
 urge you to buy 'em. I'm just giving you a 
 chance to get in on the ground floor. And if
 
 126 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 you don't want to come in to-day, maybe you 
 will to-morrow. Anyway, have a button. Wear 
 it ! Tell your friends about Gopher. Here you 
 are ! Every-body have a button ! ' ' 
 
 With that he scatters handful after handful 
 broadcast into the crowd, which catches 'em 
 eager. Even J. Bayard gets excited and grabs 
 for one. 
 
 " By George, Shorty! " says he. " Hanged 
 if there isn't the germ of a good idea in this 
 scheme of his ! Every share a front foot ! And 
 if he could only get the buying started " 
 
 Steele is gazin' over the heads of the crowd 
 absentminded. All of a sudden he breaks out 
 again. " I have it! " says he. " I'll get that 
 curb gang to fooling with Gopher. ' ' 
 
 But, foxy as he was, I don't believe J. Bayard 
 knew just how big a bonfire he was touchin' off. 
 I know I thought he was nutty when he wants 
 me to O.K. his plan for buyin' a hundred shares 
 to distribute free. 
 
 "Bait!" says he. "They'll bite! You 
 watch 'em! " 
 
 Well, if you've been followin' the market 
 close, you know what happened. I expect the 
 first bids was made just as a josh. I hear that 
 Gopher Development started at ten cents. 
 Then someone sold a block at fifteen. By noon 
 they'd gone to twenty. Durin' luncheon time a 
 sporty bunch in a rathskeller cooked up the 
 bright idea that it would be humorous to sell 
 Gopher short and hammer the price down to
 
 X
 
 GUMMING GOPHER TO THE MAP 127 
 
 five cents. Before three P.M. the gross trans- 
 actions had run into the thousands. 
 
 I was in Hubbs' office when the first real 
 money was paid over for Gopher. A hook- 
 nosed young broker in a shepherd plaid suit and 
 a pink felt hat rushes in and planks down 
 twenty dollars for fifty shares at the market. 
 Hubbs was just passin' 'em over too, when 
 Steele interferes. 
 
 " Five more, please," says J. Bayard. " We 
 are holding Gopher at 50." 
 
 " Wha'd'ye mean, fifty? " gasps the curb 
 man. But he was short on a three-fifteen de- 
 livery, and he had to put up the extra five. 
 
 " Stick to that rule," Steele advises Hubbs. 
 11 Ask 'em ten points more than outside quota- 
 tions." 
 
 What really got things goin', though, was 
 when some of the stock clerks and bookkeepers, 
 who'd heard and talked nothin' but Gopher 
 these last two days, begun buyin' lots outright 
 and turnin' 'em in for deeds. Whether or not 
 they believed all Hubbs had fed 'em about 
 Gopher don't matter. They was takin' a 
 chance. So they slips out at noon and gives 
 real orders. Course, they wa'n't plungin'; but 
 the combined effect was the same. 
 
 And it don't take the curb long to get wise. 
 " The suckers are buying Gopher," was the 
 word passed round. Then maybe the quota- 
 tions didn't jump! There wa'n't any quarter 
 matchin' down in Broad street after that.
 
 128 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 They was too busy yellin' Gopher at each other, 
 Up she went, 75, then 85, then 110, and when 
 closin' hour come the third day it was the 
 liveliest scene inside the ropes that the margin 
 district had known in years. 
 
 I expect the newspapers helped a lot too. 
 They had a heap of fun with Hubbs and his 
 Gopher proposition, Hubbs of Gopher, U.S.A. 
 They printed pictures of him playin' the ac- 
 cordion, and interviews reproducin' his de- 
 scriptive gems about * ' the banks of the pellucid 
 Pinto," and such. 
 
 But you never can tell how a comedy stab is 
 goin' to turn out. This game of buyin' real 
 estate shares for a dollar or so, with the pros- 
 pects that before night it might be worth twice 
 as much, was one that hit 'em hard. By Friday 
 Gopher stock was being advertised like Steel 
 preferred, and the brokers was flooded with 
 buyin' orders. Some of the big firms got into 
 the game too. A fat German butcher came all 
 the way down from the Bronx, counted out a 
 thousand dollars in bills to Nelson Hubbs, and 
 was satisfied to walk away with a deed for 
 a hundred front feet of Gopher realty. He 
 wasn't such a boob, either. Two hours later 
 he could have closed out five hundred to the 
 good. 
 
 It wa'n't like a stock flurry, where there's an 
 inside gang manipulatin' the wires. All the 
 guidin' hand there was in this deal was that of 
 J. Bayard Steele, and he contents himself with
 
 GUMMING GOPHER TO THE MAP 129 
 
 eggin' Hubbs on to stand firm on that ten-cent 
 raise. 
 
 " Not a penny more, not a penny less," says 
 he, beamin'. " It'll get 'em." 
 
 And I don't know when I've seen him look 
 more contented. As for Nelson Hubbs, he 
 seems a little dazed at it all; but he keeps his 
 head and smiles good-natured on everybody. 
 Not until Gopher Development hits twenty-five 
 dollars a share does he show any signs of get- 
 tin' restless. 
 
 " Boys," says he, bangin' his fist down on 
 the desk, " it's great! I've turned that thou- 
 sand-dollar fund into fifty, and as near as I can 
 figure it property values along our Main street 
 have been jumped about eight hundred per cent. 
 They've heard of it out home, and they're just 
 wild. I expect I ought to stay right here and 
 push things ; but well, McCabe, maybe you can 
 guess." 
 
 " No word from a certain party, eh! " says I. 
 
 Hubbs shakes his head and starts pacin' up 
 and down in front of the window. He hadn't 
 done more'n three laps, though, before in fllows 
 a messenger boy and hands him a telegram. 
 
 " We-e-e-yow! " yells Hubbs. " Hey, 
 Shorty, it's come doggoned if it ain't come! 
 Look at that! " 
 
 It was a brief bulletin, but full of meat. It 
 runs like this : 
 
 Good work, Nelson. You've done it. Gopher's on the map.
 
 130 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 And the last we saw of Mm, after he 'd turned 
 the stock business over to Mendell & Co., he 
 was pikin' for a west-bound train with his grip 
 in one fist and that old accordion in the other. 
 
 J. Bayard smiles after him friendly and in- 
 dulgent. " A woman in the case, I suppose? ' 
 says he. 
 
 " Uh-huh," says I. " The plumpest, cheer- 
 iest, winnin'est little body ever left unclaimed, 
 his description. She's the lady Mayor out 
 there. And if I'm any judge, with them two 
 holdin' it down, Gopher's on the map to stay."
 
 WHAT LINDY HAD UP HER SLEEVE 
 
 " BUT think of it, Shorty! ' ' says Sadie. 
 11 What an existence! " 
 
 " There's plenty worse off than her," says 
 I; " so what's the use? " 
 
 " I can't help it," says she. " Twenty 
 years! No holidays, no home, no relatives: 
 nothing but sew and mend, sew and mend and 
 for strangers, at that! Talk about dull gray 
 lives ugh! " 
 
 " Well, she's satisfied, ain't she? " says I. 
 
 " That's the worst of it," says Sadie. " She 
 seems to live for her work. Goodness knows 
 how early she's up and at it in the morning, and 
 at night I have to drive her out of the sewing 
 room! " 
 
 " And you kick at that? " says I. " Huh! 
 Why, on lower Fifth-ave. they capitalize such 
 habits and make 'em pay for fifteen-story build- 
 in 's. Strikes me this Lindy of yours is per- 
 fectly good sweatshop material. You don't 
 know a good thing when you see it, Sadie. ' ' 
 
 " There, there, Shorty! " says she. " Don't 
 try to be comic about it. There's nothing in 
 the least funny about Lindy." 
 
 131
 
 132 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 She was dead right too; and all I meant by 
 my feeble little cracks was that a chronic case 
 of acute industry was too rare a disease for me 
 to diagnose offhand. Honest, it almost gave 
 me the fidgets, havin' Lindy around the house. 
 Say, she had the busy bee lookin' like a corner 
 loafer with his hands in his pockets ! 
 
 About once a month we had Lindy with us, 
 for three or four days at a stretch, and durin' 
 that time she'd be gallopin' through all kinds of 
 work, from darnin' my socks or rippin' up an 
 old skirt, to embroiderin' the fam'ly monogram 
 on the comp'ny tablecloths; all for a dollar 'n a 
 half per, which I understand is under union 
 rates. Course, Sadie always insists on throwin' 
 in something for overtime; but winnin' the 
 extra didn't seem to be Lindy 's main object. 
 She just wanted to keep goin', and if the work 
 campaign wa'n't all planned out for her to cut 
 loose on the minute she arrived, she'd most 
 have a fit. Even insisted on havin' her meals 
 served on the sewin' table, so she wouldn't lose 
 any time. Sounds too good to be true, don't it? 
 But remember this ain't a class I'm describin': 
 it's just Lindy. 
 
 And of all the dried-up little old maids I ever 
 see, Lindy was the queerest specimen. Seems 
 she was well enough posted on the styles, and 
 kept the run of whether sleeves was bein' worn 
 full or tight, down over the knuckles or above 
 the elbow, and all that; but her own costume 
 was always the same, a dingy brown dress
 
 WHAT LINDY HAD UP HER SLEEVE 133 
 
 that fits her like she'd cut it out in the dark 
 and had put it together with her eyes shut, a 
 faded old brown coat with funny sleeves that 
 had little humps over the shoulders, and a dusty 
 black straw lid of no partic'lar shape, that 
 sported a bunch of the saddest lookin' violets 
 ever rescued from the ashheap. 
 
 Then she had such a weird way of glidin' 
 around silent, and of shrinkin' into corners, 
 and flattenin' herself against the wall whenever 
 she met anyone. Meek and lowly? Say, every 
 motion she made seemed to be sort of a dumb 
 apology for existin' at all! And if she had to 
 go through a room where I was, or pass me in 
 the hall, she'd sort of duck her head, hold one 
 hand over her mouth, and scuttle along like a 
 mouse beatin ' it for his hole. 
 
 You needn't think I'm pilin' on the agony, 
 either. I couldn't exaggerate Lindy if I tried. 
 And if you imagine it's cheerin' to have a 
 human being as humble as all that around, 
 you're mistaken. Kind of made me feel as if I 
 was a slave driver crackin' the whip. 
 
 And there wa'n't any special reason that I 
 could see for her actin' that way. Outside of 
 her clothes, she wa'n't such a freak. That is, 
 she wa'n't deformed, or anything like that. 
 She wa'n't even wrinkled or gray haired; 
 though how she kept from growin' that way I 
 couldn't figure out. I put it down that her 
 lonesome, old maid existence must have struck 
 in and paralyzed her soul.
 
 134 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 There was another queer quirk to her too. 
 Work up as much sympathy as you wanted to, 
 you couldn't do anything for her. Sadie ain't 
 slow at that, you know. She got int 'rested in 
 her right off, and when she discovers how Lindy 
 lives in a couple of cheap rooms down in the 
 Bronx all by herself, and never goes anywhere 
 or has any fun, she proceeds to spring her usual 
 uplift methods. Wouldn't Lindy like a ticket 
 to a nice concert? No, thanks, Lindy didn't 
 care much about music. Or the theater? No, 
 Lindy says she's afraid to go trapesin' around 
 town after dark. Wouldn't she quit work for 
 an hour or so and come for a spin in the car, 
 just to get the air? Lindy puts her hand over 
 her mouth and shakes her head. Automobiles 
 made her nervous. She tried one once, and was 
 so scared she couldn't work for two hours after. 
 The subway trains were bad enough, goodness 
 knows ! 
 
 I couldn't begin to tell you all the things 
 Lindy was afraid of, crowds, the dark, of get- 
 ting lost, of meetin' strangers, of tryin' any- 
 thing new. I remember seem' her once, comin' 
 out on the train. She's squeezed into the end 
 seat behind the door, and was huddled up there, 
 grippin' a little black travelin' bag in one hand 
 and a rusty umbrella in the other, and keepin' 
 her eyes on the floor, for all the world like she'd 
 run away from somewhere and was stealin' a 
 ride. Get it, do you ? 
 
 But wait ! There was one point where Lindy
 
 WHAT LINDY HAD UP HER SLEEVE 135 
 
 had it on most of us. She knew where she was 
 goin'. Didn't seem to have any past worth 
 speakin' about, except that she'd been born in 
 England, father used to keep a little store on 
 some side street in Dover, and she'd come 
 over here alone when she was quite a girl. As 
 for the present well, I've been tryin' to give 
 you a bird's-eye view of that. 
 
 But when it comes to the future Lindy was 
 right there with the goods. Had it all mapped 
 out for twenty years to come. Uh-huh! She* 
 told Sadie about it, ownin' up to bein' near 
 forty, and said that when she was sixty she 
 was goin' to get into an Old Ladies' Home. 
 Some prospect what? She'd even picked out 
 the joint and had 'em put her name down. It 
 would cost her three hundred and fifty dollars, 
 which she had salted away in the savings bank 
 already, and now she was just driftin' along 
 until she could qualify in the age limit. Livin* 
 just for that ! 
 
 " Ah, can the gloom stuff, Sadie! " says I 
 as she whispers this latest bulletin. " You 
 give me the willies, you and your Lindy ! Why, 
 that old horse chestnut out there in the yard 
 leads a more excitin' existence than that! It's 
 preparin' to leaf out again next spring. But 
 Lindy ! Bah ! Say, just havin' her in the house 
 makes the air seem moldy. I'm goin' out and 
 tramp around the grounds a bit before dinner." 
 
 That was a good hunch. It's a clear, crisp 
 evenin' outside, with the last red of the sun
 
 136 SHOETY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 just showin' in the northwest and a thin new 
 moon hangin' over Long Island Sonnd off in 
 the east, and in a couple of turns I shook off 
 the whole business. I'd taken one circle and 
 was roundin' the back of the garage, when I 
 sees something dark slip into a tree shadow up 
 near the house. 
 
 " That you, Dominick? " I sings out. 
 
 There's no answer to that, and, knowin' that 
 if there's one failin' Dominick don't possess 
 it's bein' tonguetied, I gets suspicious. Be- 
 sides, a couple of porch-climbin' jobs had been 
 pulled off in the neighborhood recent, and, even 
 though I do carry a burglar policy, I ain't 
 crazy about havin' strangers messin' through 
 the bureau drawers while I'm tryin' to sleep. 
 So I sneaks along the hedge for a ways, and 
 then does the sleuthy approach across the lawn 
 on the right flank. Another minute and I've 
 made a quick spring and has my man pinned 
 against the tree with both his wrists fast and 
 my knee in his chest. 
 
 11 Woof! " says he, deep and guttural. 
 
 " Excuse the warm welcome," says I, " but 
 that's only a sample of what we pass out to 
 stray visitors like you. Sizin' up the premises, 
 were you, and gettin' ready to collect a few 
 souvenirs? " 
 
 " A thousand pardons," says he, " if I have 
 seem to intrude ! ' ' 
 
 " Eh? " says I. That wa'n't exactly the 
 comeback you'd expect from a second-story
 
 WHAT LINDY HAD UP HER SLEEVE 137 
 
 worker, and he has a queer foreign twist to his 
 words. 
 
 "It is possible," he goes on, " that I have 
 achieved the grand mistake." 
 
 " Maybe," says I, loosenin' up on him a 
 little. " What was it you thought you was 
 after? " 
 
 " The house of one McCah-be," says he, " a 
 professor of fists, I am told." 
 
 " That's a new description of me," says I, 
 " but I'm the party. All of which don't prove, 
 though, that you ain't a crook." 
 
 " Crook? " says he. " Ah, a felon! But no, 
 Effendi. I come on an errand of peace, as 
 Allah is good." 
 
 How was that now, havin' Allah sprung on 
 me in my own front yard? Why travel! 
 
 " Say, come out here where I can get a bet- 
 ter look," says I, draggin' him out of the 
 shadow. "There! Well, of all the " 
 
 No wonder I lost my breath; for what I've 
 picked up off the front lawn looks like a stray 
 villain from a comic opera. He's a short, bar- 
 rel-podded gent, mostly costumed in a long 
 black cape affair and one of these tasseled 
 Turkish caps. About all the features I can 
 make out are a pair of bushy eyebrows, a 
 prominent hooked beak, and a set of crisp, 
 curlin' black whiskers. Hardly the kind to go 
 shinnin' up waterspouts or squeezin' through 
 upper windows. Still, I'd almost caught him in 
 the act.
 
 138 SHOKTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 " If that's a disguise you've got on," says I, 
 " it's a bird. And if it ain't say, let's hear 
 the tale. Who do you claim to be, anyway? " 
 
 " Many pardons again, Effendi," says he, 
 " but it is my wish to remain what you call 
 it? incognito." > 
 
 " Then you don't get your wish," says I. 
 " No John Doe game goes with me. Out with 
 it! Who and^ what? " 
 
 " But I make protest," says he. " Kather 
 would I depart on my way. ' ' 
 
 " Ah, ditch that! " says I. "I caught you 
 actin' like a suspicious character. Now, if you 
 can account for yourself, I may turn you loose ; 
 but if you don't, it's a case for the police." 
 
 " Ah, no, no! " he objects. " Not the con- 
 stables! Allah forbid! I I will make ex- 
 planation. ' ' 
 
 " Then let it come across quick," says I. 
 11 First off, what name are you flaggin' 
 under? " 
 
 " At my home," says he, " I am known as 
 Pasha Dar Bunda." 
 
 " Well, that's some name, all right," says I. 
 " Now the next item, Pasha, is this, What set 
 you to prowlin' around the home of one Mc- 
 Cabe? " 
 
 " Ah, but you would not persist thus far! " 
 says he, pleadin'. " That is a personal thing, 
 something between myself and Allah alone." 
 
 " You don't say," says I. " Sorry to butt 
 in, but I've got to have it all. Come, now ! "
 
 WHAT LINDY HAD UP HER SLEEVE 139 
 
 " But, Effendi " he begins. 
 
 " No, not Fender," says I, " nor Footboard, 
 or anything like that: just plain McCabe." 
 
 " It is a word of respect," says he, " such 
 as Sir Lord; thus, Effendi McCabe." 
 
 " Well, cut out the frills and let's get down 
 to brass tacks," says I. " You're here because 
 you're here, I expect. But what else? " 
 
 He sighs, and then proceeds to let go of a 
 little information. " You have under your 
 roof," says he, " a Meesis Vogel, is it not? " 
 
 * * Vogel ? ' says I, puzzled for a second. 
 " You don't mean Lindy, do you? ' 
 
 " She was called that, yes," says the Pasha, 
 " Meelinda." 
 
 ' ' But she 's a Miss old maid, ' ' says I. 
 
 " Ah? " says he, liftin' his bushy eyebrows. 
 " A Mees, eh? It may be so. They tell me at 
 her place of living that she is to be found here. 
 Voild! That is all." 
 
 " But what about her? " says I. " Where do 
 you come in? " 
 
 " Once when I am in England," says he, 
 " many years gone past, I know her. I learn 
 that she is in New York. Well, I find myself in 
 America too. I thought to see her. Why not? 
 A glimpse, no more." 
 
 " Is it the style where you come from," says 
 I, " to gumshoe around and peek in the win- 
 dows to see old friends? " 
 
 " In my country," says he, " men do not 
 but then we have our own customs. I have ex- 
 plain. Now I may depart."
 
 140 SHOKTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 " Not so fast, old scout! " says I. "If it's 
 so you're a friend of Lindy, she'll be wantin' 
 to see you, and all we got to do is to step inside 
 and call her down. ' ' 
 
 " But thanks," says he. "It is very kind. 
 I will not trouble, however. It need not be. ' ' 
 
 " Needn't, eh? ' says I. " Look here, 
 Pasha So and So, you can't put over anything 
 so thin on me! You're up to something or 
 other. You sure look it. Anyway, I'm goin' to 
 march you in and find out from Lindy herself 
 whether she knows you or not. Understand? ' 
 
 He sighs resigned. " Since you are a pro- 
 fessor of fists, it must be so," says he. " But 
 remark this, I do not make the request to see 
 her, and and you may say to her that it is 
 Don Carlos who is here." 
 
 ' ' Ah-ha ! ' ' says I. * ' Another pen name, 
 eh? Don Carlos! Low Dago, or Hidalgo? " 
 
 " My father," says he, " was a Spanish gen- 
 tleman of Hebrew origin. My mother was 
 French." 
 
 " Some combination! " says I. " And Lindy 
 knows you best as Don Carlos, does she? We'll 
 soon test that." 
 
 So I escorts him in by the side door, plants 
 him in the livin' room where I can keep an eye 
 on him, and hoohoos gentle up the stairs to 
 Sadie. 
 
 " Yes? " says she. 
 
 " Shut the sewin' room door," says I. 
 
 " All right," says she. " Well? "
 
 [WHAT LINDY HAD UP HER SLEEVE 141 
 
 " There's a gent down here, Sadie," says I, 
 " that looks like a cross between a stage pirate 
 and an Armenian rug peddler." 
 
 " For goodness' sake! " says Sadie. " Not 
 in the house! What on earth did you let him 
 in fort " 
 
 11 Because," says I, "he claims to be an old 
 friend of Lindy's." 
 
 " Of Lindy's!" she gasps. "Why, what 
 >> 
 
 " I don't know the rest," says I. " You 
 spring it on her. Tell her it's Don Carlos, and 
 then let me know what she says." 
 
 That seems like a simple proposition; but 
 Sadie takes a long time over it. I could hear 
 her give a squeal of surprise at something, and 
 then she seems to be askin' a lot of fool ques- 
 tions. In the course of five or six minutes, 
 though, she leans over the stair rail lookin' sort 
 of excited. 
 
 " Well? " says I. " Does she know him? " 
 
 ' ' Know him ! ' ' says Sadie. * * Why, she says 
 he 's her husband ! ' ' 
 
 " Not Lindy's! " I gasps. 
 
 " That's what she says," insists Sadie. 
 
 "Great Scott!" says I. "Must be some 
 mistake about this. Wait a minute. Here, you, 
 Pasha! Come here! Lindy says you're her 
 husband. Is that so? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," says he, as easy as you please. 
 " Under your laws I suppose I am." 
 
 " Well, wouldn't that frost you! " says I.
 
 142 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 " But, say, Sadie, why don't she come down 
 and see him, then? " 
 
 " Just what I've been asking her," says 
 Sadie. " She says she's too busy, and that if 
 he wants to see her he must come up." 
 
 11 Well, what do you know! " says I. 
 " Pasha, do you want to see her? " 
 
 " As I have told," says he, " there is no need. 
 I do not demand it. ' ' 
 
 " Well, of all the cold-blooded pairs! " says 
 I. " How long since you've seen her? " 
 
 "Very long," says he; "perhaps twenty 
 years." 
 
 " And now all you can work up is a mild 
 curiosity for a glimpse through the window, 
 eh? " says I. 
 
 He shrugs his shoulders careless. 
 
 " Then, by the great horned spoon," I goes 
 on, " you're goin' to get what you came after! 
 Trail along upstairs after me. This way. In 
 through here. There you are, Pasha! Lindy, 
 here's your Don Carlos! " 
 
 " Oh! " says she, lookin' up from the shirt- 
 waist she was bastin' a sleeve on, and not even 
 botherin' to take the pins out of her mouth. 
 
 And maybe they ain't some cross-mated 
 couple too! This Pasha party shows up pon- 
 derous and imposin', in spite of the funny little 
 fez arrangement on his head. He's thrown his 
 cloak back, revealin' a regulation frock coat; 
 but under that is some sort of a giddy-tinted 
 silk-blouse effect, and the fringed ends of a
 
 WHAT LINDY HAD UP HEE SLEEVE 143 
 
 bright red sash hangs down below his knee on 
 the left side. He's got a color on him like the 
 inside of an old coffeepot, and the heavy, 
 crinkly beard makes him look like some foreign 
 Ambassador. While Lindy well, in her black 
 sewin' dress and white apron, she looks slim- 
 mer and more old maidish than ever. 
 
 He confines his greetin' to a nod of the head, 
 and stands there gazin' at her as calm as if he 
 was starin' at some stranger in the street. 
 
 " I suppose you've come to take me away 
 with you, Carlos! " says she. 
 
 " No," says he. 
 
 " But I thought," says Lindy, " I I thought 
 some day you might. I didn 't know, though. I 
 haven't planned on it." 
 
 " Is it your wish to go with me I " says he. 
 
 " Why, I'm your wife, you know," says 
 she. 
 
 * ' You had my letters, did you f " he goes on. 
 
 " Four," says she. " There was one from 
 Spain, when you were a brigand, and an- 
 other " 
 
 " A brigand! " breaks in Sadie. " Do you 
 mean that, Lindy? " 
 
 " Wasn't that it? " asks Lindy of him. 
 
 11 For two years, Madam," says Don Carlos, 
 bo win' polite. " A dull sort of business, 
 mingling so much with stupid tourists. Bah! 
 And such small gains! By the time you have 
 divided with the soldiers little is left. So I 
 gave it up."
 
 144 SHOETY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 < i 
 
 The next came from that queer place," 
 says Lindy, " Port Port " 
 
 " Port Said," helps out Pasha, " where I 
 had a gambling house. That was good for a 
 time. Rather lively also. We had too much 
 shooting and stabbing, though. It was an Eng- 
 lish officer, that last one. What a row! In the 
 night I left for Tunisia. ' ' 
 
 " Oh, yes, Tunis," says Lindy. " Something 
 about slaves there, wasn't it? " 
 
 " Camels also," says Pasha. " I traded in 
 both stolen camels and smuggled slaves." 
 
 He throws this off as casual as if he was 
 tellin' about sellin' sewin' machines. I glances 
 over to see how Sadie's takin' it, and finds her 
 drawin' in a long breath. 
 
 ' ' Well, I never ! ' : says she explosive. 
 ' * What a shameless wretch ! And you dared 
 confess all this to Lindy? " 
 
 " Pardon, Madam," says he, smilin' until he 
 shows most of his white teeth, " but I desired 
 no misunderstanding. It is my way with 
 women, to tell them only what is true. If they 
 dislike that well, there are many others." 
 
 " Humph! '* says Sadie, tossin' her head. 
 " Lindy, do you hear that? " 
 
 Lindy nods and keeps right on bastin' the 
 sleeve. 
 
 " But how did you ever come to marry such 
 a person, Lindy? " Sadie demands. 
 
 Carlos executes another smile at this and 
 bows polite. " It was my fault," says he. "I
 
 .WHAT LINDY HAD UP HEK SLEEVE 145 
 
 was in England, waiting for a little affair that 
 happened in Barcelona to blow over. By 
 chance I saw her in her father's shop. Ah, you 
 may find it difficult to believe now, Madam, but 
 she was quite charming, cheeks flushed like 
 dawn on the desert, eyes like the sea, and limbs 
 as lithe as an Arab maiden's! I talked. She 
 listened. My English was poor; but it is not 
 always words that win. These British girls, 
 though! They cannot fully understand ro- 
 mance. It was she who insisted on marriage. 
 I cared not a green fig. What to me was the 
 mumbling of a churchman, I who cared not for 
 the priests of my mother nor the rabbi of my 
 father? Pah! Two weeks later I gave her 
 some money and left her. Once more in the 
 mountains of Spain I could breathe again and 
 I made the first English we caught settle the 
 whole bill. That is how it came to be, Madam. 
 Ask her." 
 
 Sadie looks at Lindy, who nods. " Father 
 drove me out when I went back, ' ' says she ; " so 
 I came over here. Carlos had told me where to 
 write. You got all my letters, did you, Car- 
 los? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," says he. Then, turnin' to Sadie, 
 " A wonderful writer of letters, Madam, one 
 every month ! ' ' 
 
 " Then you knew about little Carlos? " puts 
 in Lindy. " It was a pity. Such lovely big 
 black eyes. He was nearly two. I wish you 
 could have seen him."
 
 146 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 " I also had regret," says Carlos. " I read 
 that letter many times. It was because of that, 
 I think, that I continued to read the others, and 
 was at pains to have them sent to me. They 
 would fill a hamper, all of them." 
 
 * ' What ! ' ' says Sadie. * * After you knew the 
 kind of monster he was, Lindy, did you keep on 
 writing to him? " 
 
 " But he was still my husband," protested 
 Lindy. 
 
 " Bah! " says Sadie, throwin' a scornful 
 glance at the Pasha. 
 
 Don Carlos he spreads out his hands, and 
 shrugs his shoulders. " These English! " says 
 he. " At first I laughed at the letters. They 
 would come at such odd times; for you can 
 imagine, Madam, that my life has been well, 
 not as the saints'. And to many different 
 women have I read bits of these letters that 
 came from so far, to dancing girls, others. 
 Some laughed with me, some wept. One tried 
 to stab me with a dagger afterward. Women 
 are like that. You never know when they will 
 change into serpents. All but this one. Think ! 
 Month after month, year after year, letters, let- 
 ters ; about nothing much, it is true, but wishing 
 me good health, happiness, asking me to have 
 care for myself, and saying always that I was 
 loved! Well? Can one go on laughing at 
 things like that? Once I was dangerously hurt, 
 a spearthrust that I got near Biskra, and the 
 letter came to me where I lay in my tent. It
 
 was like a soothing voice, comforting one in 
 the dark. Since then I have watched for those 
 letters. When chance brought me to this side 
 of the world, I found myself wishing for sight 
 of the one who could remain ever the same, 
 could hold the faith in the faithless for so long. 
 So here I am.'* 
 
 " Yes, and you ought to be in jail," says 
 Sadie emphatic. " But, since you're not, what 
 do you propose doing next ! ' ' 
 
 " I return day after to-morrow," says Don 
 Carlos, * ' and if the lady who is my wife so wills 
 it she shall go with me. ' ' 
 
 " Oh, shall she! " says Sadie sarcastic. 
 " Where to, pray? " 
 
 < ' To El Kurfah," says he. 
 
 " And just where," says Sadie, " is that? " 
 
 " Three days by camel south from Moor- 
 zook," says he. " It is an oasis in the Libyan 
 Desert." 
 
 " Indeed! " says Sadie. " And what par- 
 ticular business are you engaged in there, 
 gambling, robbing, slave selling, or " 
 
 "In El Kurfah," breaks in Don Carlos, 
 bo win' dignified, " I am Pasha Dar Bunda, 
 Minister of Foreign Affairs and chief business 
 agent to Hamid-al-Illa ; who, as you may know, 
 is one of the half-dozen rulers claiming to be 
 Emperor of the Desert. Frankly, I admit he 
 has no right to such a title ; but neither has any 
 of the others. Hamid, however, is one of the 
 most up-to-date and successful of all the desert
 
 148 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 chieftains. My presence here is proof of that. 
 I came to arrange for large shipments of dates 
 and ivorj r , and to take back to Hamid an auto- 
 mobile and the latest phonograph records." 
 
 " I don't like automobiles," says Lindy, fin- 
 ishin' up the sleeve. 
 
 "Neither does Hamid," says Pasha; "but 
 he says we ought to have one standing in front 
 of the royal palace to impress the hill tribesmen 
 when they come in. Do you go back to El 
 Kurfah with me, Mrs. Vogel <? " 
 
 " Yes," says Lindy, rollin' up her apron. 
 
 " But, Lindy! " gasps Sadie. " To such a 
 place, with such a man! ' 
 
 " He is my husband, you know," says she. 
 
 And Lindy seems to think when she's put 
 that over that she's said all there was to say 
 on the subject. Sadie protests and threatens 
 and begs. She reminds her what a deep-dyed 
 villain this Carlos party is, and forecasts all 
 sorts of dreadful things that will likely happen 
 to her if she follows him off. But it's all 
 wasted breath. 
 
 And all the while Pasha Dar Bunda, alias 
 Don Carlos Vogel, stands there smilin' polite 
 and waitin' patient. But in the end he walks 
 out triumphant, with Lindy, holdin' her little 
 black bag in one hand and her old umbrella in 
 the other, followin' along in his wake. 
 
 Then last Friday we went down to one of 
 them Mediterranean steamers to see 'em actu- 
 ally start. And, say, this slim, graceful party
 
 LINDY HAD UP HEE SLEEVE 149 
 
 in the snappy gray travelin' dress, with the 
 smart lid and all the gray veils on, looks about 
 as much like the Lindy we'd known as a hard- 
 boiled egg looks like a frosted cake. Lindy has 
 bloomed out. 
 
 " And when we get to El Kurfah guess what 
 Carlos is going to give me! " she confides to 
 Sadie. " A riding camel and Batime. He's 
 one of the best camel drivers in the place, 
 Batime. And I have learned to salaam and 
 say ' Allah il Allah.' Evryone must do that 
 there. And in our garden are dates and 
 oranges growing. Only fancy! There will be 
 five slaves to wait on me, and when we go to 
 the palace I shall wear gold bracelets on my 
 ankles. "Won't that seem odd? It's rather 
 warm in El Kurfah, you know; but I sha'n't 
 mind. Early in the morning, when it is cool, I 
 shall ride out into the sandhills with Carlos. 
 He is going to teach me how to shoot a lion. ' ' 
 
 She was chatterin' along like a schoolgirl, 
 and when the boat pulls out of the slip she 
 waves jaunty to us. Don Carlos, leanin' over 
 the rail alongside of her, gazes at her sort of 
 admirin'. 
 
 " El Kurfah, eh? " says I to Sadie. " That's 
 mis sin' the Old Ladies' Home by some margin, 
 ain't it! "
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 A CASE OF NOBODY HOME 
 
 11 YES," says J. Bayard Steele, ad Justin' the 
 chin part in his whiskers and tiltin' back com- 
 f 'table in his chair, " I am beginning to think 
 that the late Pyramid Gordon must have been 
 a remarkably good judge of human nature." 
 
 " For instance? " says I. 
 
 1(1 His selection of me as an executor of his 
 whimsical will," says he. 
 
 " Huh! " says I. " How some people do 
 dislike themselves ! Now, if you want to know 
 my views on that subject, J. B., I've always 
 thought that was one of his battiest moves. ' ' 
 
 But he's got a hide like a sample trunk, Mr. 
 Steele has. He only shrugs his shoulders. 
 " Yes, you have given me similar subtle hints 
 to that effect," says he. " And I will admit 
 that at first I had doubts as to my fitness. The 
 doing of kind and generous acts for utter 
 strangers has not been a ruling passion with 
 me. But so far I have handled several assign- 
 ments in which have I failed? ' 
 
 " Look who's been coachin' you, though! " 
 says I. 
 
 J. Bayard bows and waves a manicured hand 
 
 150
 
 A CASE OF NOBODY HOME 151 
 
 graceful. " True," he goes on, " your advice 
 has been invaluable on occasions, friend Mc- 
 Cabe; especially in the early stages of my 
 career as a commissioned agent of philan- 
 thropy. But I rather fancy that of late I have 
 developed an altruistic instinct of my own; an 
 instinct, if I may say so, in which kindly zeal 
 is tempered by a certain amount of practical 
 wisdom. ' ' 
 
 I 'Fine!" says I. " Bern' a little floral 
 tribute, I take it, from Mr. Steele to himself." 
 
 " Unless it should occur to you, Mc- 
 Cabe," says he, " to make the distinction be- 
 tween offensive egoism and pardonable pride." 
 
 " I don't get you," says I; " but I feel the 
 jab. Anyhow, it's instructin' and elevatin' to 
 hear you run on. Maybe you've got somethin' 
 special on your mind? " 
 
 II I have," says he, producin' an envelope 
 with some notes scribbled on the back. 
 
 1 ' Is that No. 6 on the list ? ' ' says I. ' l Who 's 
 the party? " 
 
 " Here," says he, tappin' the envelope im- 
 pressive, " are my findings and recommenda- 
 tions in the case of Hackett Wells." 
 
 " Shoot it," says I, settlin' back in the desk 
 chair. 
 
 It's a pity too I can't give you all the high 
 English J. Bayard uses up in statin' this sim- 
 ple proposition; for he's in one of them com- 
 f 'table, expandin', after-luncheon moods, when 
 his waist band fits tight and the elegant Ian-
 
 152 SHORTY MoCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 guage just flows from him like lie had hydrant 
 connection with the dictionary. 
 
 It seems, though, that this Wells party had 
 been sort of a partner of Pyramid's back in the 
 early days. Some sort of a buyers' pool for 
 Eastern coal deliveries, I believe it was, that 
 Hackett had got into accidental and nursed 
 along until he found himself dividin' the cream 
 of the profits with only half a dozen others. 
 Then along came Pyramid with his grand con- 
 solidation scheme, holdin' out the bait of makin' 
 Mr. Wells head of the new concern and freezin' 
 out all the rest. 
 
 Wells, he swallows it whole : only to wake up 
 a few months later and discover that he's been 
 double crossed. Havin' served his turn, Gor- 
 don has just casually spilled him overboard, 
 thiukin' no more of doin' it than he would of 
 chuckin' away a half-smoked cigar. 
 
 But to Hackett Wells this was a national 
 calamity. Havin' got in with the easy-money 
 bunch by a fluke in the first place, he wa'n't a 
 man who could come back. Course he brought 
 suit, and wasted a lot of breath callin' Pyramid 
 hard names from a safe distance; but Pyra- 
 mid's lawyers wore him out in the courts, and 
 he was too busy to care who was cussin' him. 
 
 So Mr. Wells and his woe drops out of sight. 
 He's managed to keep hold of a little property 
 that brings him in just enough to scrub along 
 on, and he joins that hungry-eyed, trembly- 
 fingered fringe of margin pikers that hangs
 
 A CASE OF NOBODY HOME 153 
 
 around every hotel broker's branch in town, 
 takin' a timid flier now and then, but tappin' 
 the free lunch hard and reg'lar. You know the 
 kind, seedy hasbeens, with their futures all 
 behind 'em. 
 
 And in time, broodin' over things in gen'ral, 
 it got to Hackett Wells in his weak spot, heart, 
 or liver, or something. Didn't quite finish him, 
 you understand, but left him on the scrapheap, 
 just totterin' around and stavin' off an obitu- 
 ary item by bein' mighty careful. 
 
 " I suppose Gordon must have heard some- 
 thing of the shape he was in," says J. Bayard, 
 11 when he included him in his list. Well, I 
 hunted him up the other day, in a cheap, messy 
 flat-house to the deuce and gone up Eighth 
 avenue, got his story from him, and decided on 
 a way of helping him out. ' ' 
 
 " Want to buy him a coal mine, or something 
 like that? " says I. 
 
 J. Bayard refuses to notice my little sarcastic 
 play. ' ' I am sure Pyramid would have wanted 
 this worn-out, cast-off tool of his to end his 
 days decently, ' ' goes on Mr. Steele ; ' ' but to 
 give him a lump sum would be worse than use- 
 less. Two or three plunges, and it would be 
 all gone." 
 
 " Think of puttin' him in a home some- 
 where? " says I. 
 
 " That might be a good plan," says Steele, 
 " if he was still a widower; but it appears that 
 he has married again, a young woman too,
 
 154 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 some waitress that he met in a quick-lunch 
 place. I saw her. Bah! One of these plump, 
 stupid young females, who appeared in a dingy 
 dressing gown with her hair down. What an 
 old fool ! But I suppose she takes care of him, 
 in a way. So I thought that an annuity, of say 
 a thousand or two, paid in monthly installments, 
 would be the wisest. That would enable them 
 to move out into the country, get a nice little 
 house, with a garden, and really live. It was 
 pathetic to see how grateful he was when I told 
 him of my scheme. Of course, McCabe, all this 
 is subject to your indorsement. Thought you 
 might like to have a talk with them first, and 
 see for yourself; so I asked them to meet me 
 here about " 
 
 " Guess they're right on time," says I as the 
 studio door opens, and in drifts a December- 
 and-May pair that answers all the details of his 
 description. 
 
 The old boy might have been still in the six- 
 ties ; but with his remnant of white hair, watery 
 eyes, and ashy cheeks he looks like a reg'lar 
 antique. Must have been one of these heavy- 
 set sports in his day, a good feeder, and a con- 
 sistent drinker; but by the flabby dewlaps and 
 the meal-bag way his clothes hang on him I 
 judge he's slumped quite a lot. Still, he's kind 
 of a dignified, impressive old ruin, which makes 
 the contrast with the other half of the sketch 
 all the more startlin'. 
 
 She's a bunchy blonde, she is, about four foot
 
 A CASE OF NOBODY HOME 155 
 
 six in her French heels, with yellow hair, China- 
 doll eyes, a snub nose, and a waxy pink and 
 white complexion like these show-window mod- 
 els you see in department stores. She's cos- 
 tumed cheap but gaudy in a wrinkled, tango- 
 colored dress that she must have picked off 
 some Grand street bargain counter late last 
 spring. The ninety-nine-cent soup-plate lid 
 cocked over one ear adds a rakish touch that 
 almost puts her in the comic valentine class. 
 
 But when I'm introduced to the old scout he 
 glances fond at her and does the honors grace- 
 ful. " Mrs. Wells, Professor," says he, and 
 she executes an awkward duck response. 
 
 While the three of us are talkin' over J. 
 Bayard's proposition she sits at one side, 
 starin' blank and absentminded, as if this was 
 somethin' that don't concern her at all. 
 
 It ain't a long debate, either. Hackett Wells 
 seems satisfied with most any arrangement we 
 want to make. He's a meek, broken old sport, 
 grateful for anything that comes his way. 
 That's what led me to insist on boostin' the 
 ante up to twenty-five hundred, I guess ; for it 
 didn't look like he could go on pullin' that down 
 for many years ^more. And of course J. Bayard 
 is tickled to get my O.K. so easy. 
 
 " Then it's all settled," says Mr. Steele. 
 " You will receive a check from the attorney of 
 Mr. Gordon's estate on the first of every month. 
 You and Mrs. Wells ought to start to-morrow 
 to look for a place in some nice little country
 
 156 SHORTY McGABE ON THE JOB 
 
 town and why, what's the matter with your 
 wife? " 
 
 She has her face in her hands, and her dumpy 
 shoulders are heavin' up and down passionate. 
 At first I couldn't make out whether it's woe, 
 or if she's swallowed a safety pin. Anyway, 
 it's deep emotion of some kind. 
 
 "Why, Deary!" says Mr. Wells, steppin' 
 over and pattin' her on the back. 
 
 But that don't have any effect. The heavin' 
 motion goes right on, and no answer comes 
 from Deary. 
 
 " Mabel! Mabel, dear! " insists Hackett. 
 * ' Tell me what is wrong. Come now ! ' ' 
 
 Mabel just shakes off his hand and continues 
 her chest gymnastics. Also she begins kickin' 
 her heels against the chair rungs. And as 
 Hubby stands there lookin' helpless, with J. 
 Bayard starin' disturbed, but makin' no move, 
 it appears like it was up to me to take a hand. 
 
 " Don't mind the furniture, Ma'am," says I. 
 " Take a whack at the desk too, if you like; 
 but after you're through thro win' the fit maybe 
 you'll let us know what it's all about." 
 
 At which she begins rockin' back and forth 
 and moanin' doleful. A couple of hairpins 
 works loose and drops to the floor. 
 
 " Excuse me, Ma'am," says I, " but you're 
 goin' to lose the inside of that French roll if 
 you keep on." 
 
 That fetched her out of it in a hurry. Grab- 
 bin' wild at her back hair, she sat up and faced
 
 A CASE OF NOBODY HOME 157 
 
 us, with no signs at all of real weeps in her 
 eyes. 
 
 " I won't live in the country, I won't! " she 
 states explosive. 
 
 11 Why, Mabel dear! " protests Mr. Wells. 
 
 "Ah, don't be an old bonehead! " comes 
 back Mabel. " What's the idea, wishin' this 
 Rube stuff on us? You can just count me out, 
 Hacky, if that's the game. Do you get me? " 
 
 Hacky does. " I'm very sorry, Gentlemen,'* 
 says he, " to ask you to modify your generous 
 terms; but I feel that my wife's wishes in the 
 matter ought to be taken into account." 
 
 " Why er to be sure," says J. Bayard. 
 " I merely suggested your living in the country 
 because it seemed to me the wisest plan; but 
 after all " 
 
 11 Do we look like a pair of jays, I'd like to 
 know? " demands Mrs. Wells indignant. 
 " And another thing: I don't stand for this so 
 much a month dope, either. What's the good 
 of a little now and then? If we've got anything 
 coming to us, why not hand it over annual? 
 There 'd be some sense to that. Stick out for 
 once a year, Hacky." 
 
 Which he done. She had him well trained, 
 Mabel did. He shrugs his shoulders, tries to 
 smile feeble, and spreads out his hands. ' ' You 
 see, Gentlemen," says he. 
 
 I must say too that Mr. Steele puts up a 
 mighty convincin' line of talk, tryin' to show 
 'em how much better it would be to have a
 
 158 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 couple of hundred or so comin' in fresh on the 
 first of every month, than to be handed a lump 
 sum and maybe lose some of it, or run shy be- 
 fore next payday. He explains how he was 
 tryin' to plan so the money might do 'em the 
 most good, and unless it did how he couldn't 
 feel that he 'd done his part right. 
 
 " All of which," he goes on, " I am quite 
 sure, Mrs. Wells, you will appreciate." 
 
 " Go on, you whiskered old stuff! " comes 
 back Mabel spiteful. " How do you know so 
 much what's good for us? You and your nutty 
 dreams about cows and flower gardens and 
 hens ! I 'd rather go back to Second avenue and 
 frisk another quick-lunch job. Hand us a wad: 
 that's all we want." 
 
 Course it was a batty piece of work, tryin' 
 to persuade people to let you push money on 
 'em; but that's just where we stood. And in 
 the end J. Bayard wipes his brow weary and 
 turns to me. 
 
 " Well, McCabe, what do you say? " he asks. 
 " Shall we? " 
 
 11 I leave it with you," says I. " You're the 
 one that's developed this what-do-you-call-it in- 
 stinct, temperin' kindly zeal with practical wis- 
 dom, ain't you? Then go to it! ' : 
 
 So five minutes later Hackett Wells shuffles 
 out with an order good for the whole twenty- 
 five hundred in his pocket, and Mabel clingin' 
 tight to his arm. 
 
 " So long, Profess," says she over her shoul-
 
 A CASE OF NOBODY HOME 159 
 
 der, as I holds the door open for 'em. " We're 
 headed for happy days." 
 
 And J. Bayard Steele, gazin' after her, re- 
 marks puzzled, " Now just precisely what can 
 she mean by that? " 
 
 " Bein' only a crude and simple soul, J. B.," 
 says I, " I got to give it up. Anyhow, Mabel's 
 entirely too thick a girl for me to see through. ' ' 
 
 Besides, not knowin' her tastes or little fads, 
 how was I to guess her notion of happy days? 
 Then again, I didn't have to. All that's clear 
 is that Pyramid had wanted us to do some good 
 turn for this old goat, to sort of even up for 
 that spill of years gone by, and we'd done our 
 best. Whether the money was to be used wise 
 or not accordin' to our view was a problem 
 that don't worry me at all. Might have once, 
 when I was dead sure my dope on things in 
 gen'ral was the only true dope. But I'm get- 
 ting over that, I hope, and allowin' other folks 
 to have theirs now and then. In fact, I pro- 
 ceeded to forget this pair as quick as possible, 
 like you try to shake a bad dream when you 
 wake up in the night. And I warned J. Bayard 
 that if he didn't quit luggin' his punk philan- 
 thropy specimens into my studio I'd bar him 
 out entirely. 
 
 Let's see, that was early in the summer, and 
 it must have been just before Labor Day that 
 I broke away for a week or so to run up into 
 the White Mountains and bring back Sadie and 
 little Sully. First off Sadie was plannin' to
 
 160 SHOETY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 come by train ; but by the time I got there she 'd 
 changed her mind and wanted to tour back in 
 the machine. 
 
 " It's such gorgeous weather," says she, 
 " and the leaves are turning so nicely! We'll 
 take three days for it, making short runs and 
 stopping at night wherever we like." 
 
 " You mean," says I, " stoppin' wherever 
 you can find an imitation Waldorf-Castoria." 
 
 " Not at all," says she. " And you know 
 some of these little automobile inns are per- 
 fectly charming." 
 
 Well, that's what brought us to this Sunset 
 Lake joint the first night out. Somewhere in 
 New Hampshire it was, or maybe Vermont. 
 Anyway, it was right in the heart of the sum- 
 mer boarder belt, and it had all the usual vaca- 
 tion apparatus cluttered around, tennis courts, 
 bowling alleys, bathing floats, dancing pavilion, 
 and a five-piece Hungarian orchestra, four parts 
 kosher, that helped the crockery jugglers put 
 the din in dinner. 
 
 It was a clean, well-kept place, though, and 
 by the quality of the tomato bisque and the 
 steamed clams that we started with I judged we 
 was actually goin' to be surprised with some 
 real food. We'd watched the last of the sunset 
 glow fade out from the little toy lake, and while 
 we was waitin' to see what the roast and vege- 
 tables might be like we gazed around at the 
 dinner push that was filterin' in. 
 
 And what a job lot of humanity does have
 
 A CASE OF NOBODY HOME 161 
 
 the coin to spend the summer, or part of it, at 
 these four-a-day resorts! There's middle-aged 
 sports, in the fifties or over, some of 'em with 
 their fat, fussed-up wives, others with giddy 
 young Number Twos; then there's jolly, sun- 
 burned, comf 'table lookin' fam'ly parties, in- 
 cludin' little Brother with the peeled nose, and 
 Grandmother with her white lace cap. Also 
 there's quite a sprinklin* of widows, gay and 
 otherwise, and the usual bunch of young folks, 
 addin' lively touches here and there. All 
 city people, you know, playin' at bein' in the 
 country, but insistin' on Broadway food at 
 Broadway prices. 
 
 Our waitress was just staggerin' in with a 
 loaded tray, and Sadie was tryin' to induce lit- 
 tle Sully not to give the college yell when he 
 asked personal questions about folks at the 
 next table, when I notices her glance curious at 
 something over my head, then lower her eyes 
 and sort of smile. Course I suspects something 
 worth lookin' at might be floatin' down the 
 aisle; so I half swings around to get a view. 
 And I'd no sooner got it than I wished I hadn't 
 been so curious; for the next second there 
 comes, shrillin' sharp and raspy above the 
 dinin' room clatter, a free and happy hail. 
 
 1 i Well, what do you know ! Professor Mc- 
 Cabe, ain't it! " 
 
 Me I just sat there and gawped. I don't 
 know as I could be blamed. Course, I'd seen 
 bunchy little blondes before; but this was the 1
 
 162 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 first time I'd ever seen one that had draped 
 herself in a rainbow. That's the only word for 
 it. The thin, fluttery silk thing with the but- 
 terfly sleeves is shaded from cream white to 
 royal purple, and underneath is one of these 
 Dolly Varden gowns of flowered pink, set off by 
 a Roman striped sash two feet wide. And when 
 you add to that such details as gold shoes, pink 
 silk stockin's, long pearl ear danglers, and a 
 weird lid perched on a mountain of yellow hair 
 well, it's no wonder I was sometime remem- 
 berin' where I'd seen them China-doll eyes be- 
 fore. 
 
 " Deary," she goes on, turnin' to what's fol- 
 lowin' her, " look who's here! Our old friend, 
 the Profess! " 
 
 And with that she motions up a dignified old 
 wreck dolled out in a white flannel suit and a 
 red tie. If it hadn't been for that touch of red 
 too, he sure would have looked ghastly; for 
 there was about as much color in his face as 
 there was in his white buckskin shoes. But he 
 steps up spry and active and shoves out a 
 greetin' hand. 
 
 I ain't got the nerve, either, to look at Sadie 
 while I'm doin' the introducin'. I was watchin' 
 Mrs. Hackett Wells sort of fascinated and lis- 
 tenin' to her chatter on. 
 
 " Well, if this don't froth the eggs! " says 
 she, pattin* me chummy on the shoulder. 
 " Havin' you show up like this! And, say, 
 lemme put you wise, here's where you want
 
 A CASE OF NOBODY HOME 163 
 
 to stick around for a week or so. Yea, Bo! 
 Perfectly swell bunch here, and something 
 doin' every minute. Why, say, me and Deary 
 has been here six weeks, and we've been havin' 
 the time of our lives. Know what they call me 
 here? Well, I'm the Hot Baby of Sunset Lake; 
 and that ain't any bellboy's dream, either! 
 I'm the one that starts things. Yes, and I keep 
 'em goin' too. Just picked this place out from 
 the resort ads in the Sunday edition ; and it was 
 some prize pick, believe me! ' A quiet, refined 
 patronage of exclusive people,' the picture 
 pamphlet puts it, and I says to Deary, ' Me for 
 that, with three wardrobe trunks full of glad 
 rags. ' So you can tell your friend with the face 
 privet that we got to the country after all. Did 
 , I miss my guess? Never a miss! Why, say, 
 some of these swell parties lives on West End 
 avenue and the Drive, and I can call half of 'em 
 by their first names. Can't I, Deary! " 
 
 And Hackett Wells nods, smilin' at her fond 
 and sappy. 
 
 " Drop round to the dancin* pavilion later," 
 says she, ' ' and watch me push him through the 
 onestep. After that me and one of the boys is 
 goin' to tear off a little Maxixe stuff that'll be 
 as good as a cabaret act, and about ten-thirt 
 we'll tease Deary into openin' a couple of 
 quarts in the cafe. So long! Don't forget, 
 now! ' And off she floats, noddin' cheerful 
 right and left, and bein' escorted to her table 
 by both head waiters.
 
 164 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 I couldn't stave off meetin' Sadie's glance 
 any longer. " Eh? " says I. " Why, that's 
 only Mabel. Cumrin' little thing, ain't she? " 
 
 " Shorty," demands Sadie, " where on earth 
 did you ever meet such a person? " 
 
 Then, of course, I had to sketch out the whole 
 story. It was high time; for Sadie's lips was 
 set more or less firm. But when she hears 
 about J. Bayard's wise-boy plans for settlin' 
 the Hackett Wells in some pastoral paradise, 
 and how they got ditched by militant Mabel, 
 she indulges in a grim smile. 
 
 " A brilliant pair of executors you and Mr. 
 Steels are," says she, " if this is a sample of 
 your work! " 
 
 " Ah, come, don't be rough, Sadie! " says I. 
 " It's hard to tell, you know. What's the odds 
 if they do have to go back to their little Eighth 
 avenue flat next week? They're satisfied. 
 Anyway, Mabel is. She's New York born and 
 bred, she is, and now that she's had her annual 
 blow she don't care what happens. Next year, 
 if Deary hangs on, they'll have another." 
 
 " But it's so foolish of them! " insists 
 Sadie. 
 
 " What else do you expect from a pair like 
 that? " says I. " It's what they want most, 
 ain't it? And there's plenty like 'em. No, they 
 ain't such bad folks, either. Their hearts are 
 all there. Just a case of vacancy in the upper 
 stories: nobody home, you know."
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 UNDEE THE WIRE WITH EDWIN 
 
 IF you must know, I was doin' a social duck. 
 Not that I ain't more or less parlor broke by 
 this time, or am apt to shy at a dinner coat, like 
 a selfmade Tammany statesman when ad- 
 dressin' his fellow Peruvians. Nothing like 
 that! Pick out the right comp'ny, and I can 
 get through quite some swell feed without usin' 
 the wrong fork more'n once or twice. I don't 
 mind little fam'ly gatherin's at Pinckney's or 
 the Purdy-Pells' now. I can even look a butler 
 in the eye without feelin' shivery along the 
 spine. But these forty-cover affairs at the 
 Twombley-Cranes', with a dinner dance crush 
 afterwards and a buffet supper at one-thirty 
 A.M. that's where I get off. 
 
 Sadie likes to take 'em in once in awhile, 
 though, and as long as she'll spend what there ' 
 left of the night with friends in town, and don't 
 keep me hangin' round until the brewery trucks 
 and milk wagons begin to get busy, I ain't got 
 any kick comin'. 
 
 It was one of these fussy functions I was 
 dodgin'. I'd had my dinner at home, peaceable 
 and quiet, while Sadie was dressin', and at that 
 
 165
 
 166 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 there was plenty of time left for me to tow her 
 into town and land her at the Twombley- 
 Cranes', where they had the sidewalk canopy 
 out and an extra carriage caller on duty. I'd 
 quit at the mat, though, and was slopin' down 
 the front steps, when I'm held up by this 
 sharp-spoken old girl with the fam'ly umbrella 
 and the string bonnet. 
 
 " Young man," says she, plantin' herself 
 square in front of me, " is this Mr. Twombley- 
 Crane's house? " 
 
 " This is where it begins," says I, lookin' 
 her over some amused ; for that lid of hers sure 
 was the quaintest thing on Fifth-ave. 
 
 " Humph! " says she. " Looks more like 
 the way into a circus ! What's this thing for! " 
 and she waves the umbrella scornful at the 
 canopy. 
 
 " Why," says I, " this is to protect 
 the guests from the rude stares of the 
 common herd; also it's useful in case of a 
 shower. ' ' 
 
 11 Of all things! " says she, sniffin' contempt- 
 uous. 
 
 " If you don't like the idea," says I, " sup- 
 pose I mention it to Mr. Twombley-Crane ? 
 Maybe he'll take it down." 
 
 " That'll do, young man!' 1 says she. 
 " Don't try to be smart with me! And don't 
 think I'm asking fool questions just out of 
 curiosity! I'm related to Twombley-Crane. " 
 
 Eh? " says I, gawpin' at her.
 
 UNDER THE WIBE WITH EDWIN 167 
 
 11 Cousin by marriage," says she. 
 
 " I I take it all back then," says I. " Ex- 
 cuse my gettin' so gay. Come on a visit, have 
 you? " 
 
 " Ye-e-es," says she hesitatin'; " that is, I 
 s'pose we have. We ain't made up our minds 
 exactly." 
 
 We? " says I, gazin' around. 
 
 " Mr. Leavitt is behind the tent there, as 
 
 usual," says she, " and he My land! I 
 
 guess it's jest as well he is," she gasps, as a 
 limousine rolls up to the front of the canopy, a 
 liveried footman hops off the driver's seat, 
 whisks open the door, and helps unload Mrs. K. 
 Taylor French. 
 
 Quite some wishbone in front and more or 
 less spinal column aft Mrs. K. Taylor is ex- 
 posin' as she brushes past us up the strip of 
 red carpet. So you could hardly blame the old 
 girl for bein' jarred. 
 
 " Young man," says she, turnin' on me se- 
 vere, " what's going on here to-night? " 
 
 " Dinner dance, that's all," says I. 
 
 " You mean they're having a lot of company 
 in? " says she. 
 
 I nods. 
 
 "Then that settles it!" says she. "We 
 don't go a step nearer to-night. But where we 
 will stay, goodness only knows! " 
 
 She was pikin' off, her chin in the air, when 
 it struck me that if these really was jay rela- 
 tions of the Twombley-Cranes, maybe I ought
 
 168 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 to lend 'em a helpin' hand. So I trails along 
 until she brings up beside another party who 
 seems to be waitin ' patient just under the front 
 windows. 
 
 He's a tall, stoop-shouldered gent, with a 
 grayish mustache and a good deal of gold watch 
 chain looped across his vest. In each hand 
 he's holdin' a package careful by the strings, 
 and between his feet is one of these extension 
 canvas grips that you still see in use out in the 
 kerosene circuit. 
 
 " Excuse me, Ma'am," says I, " but I'm 
 more or less a friend of the fam'ly, and if 
 you've cOme on special to visit 'em, maybe 
 you'd better wait while I let 'em know you're 
 here. My name's McCabe, and if you'll give 
 me yours, why " 
 
 " I'm Mrs. Sallie Leavitt, of Clarks Mills," 
 says the old girl. 
 
 " Oh, yes," says I, " Clarks Mills. Up 
 Skowhegan way, ain't it? ' 
 
 " Vermont," says she. " This is Mr. 
 Leavitt. I'm much obliged to you, Mr. Mc- 
 Cabe, but you needn't bother about tellin' any- 
 one anything. If they've got company, that's 
 enough. I wish I'd never left Clarks Mills, 
 that's what I wish! ' 
 
 ' ' Now, Sallie ! ' ' protests the other half of 
 the sketch, speakin' mild and gentle. 
 
 " That'll do, Mr. Leavitt! " says she de- 
 cided. " You know very well it was all along 
 of your fussing and fretting about never hav-
 
 UNDEK THE WIRE WITH EDWIN 169 
 
 ing seen your cousin that we come to make this 
 fool trip, anyway." 
 
 " I realize that, Sallie," says he; " but " 
 
 " Mr. Leavitt," she breaks in, " will you be 
 careful of them pies? " Then she turns to me 
 apologizin'. " Course, it does seem sort of 
 silly, travelin' around New York with two 
 pumpkin pies; but I didn't know how good a 
 cook the folks had. here; and besides I don't 
 take a back seat for anybody when it comes 
 to mince or pumpkin. You see, I was plan- 
 ning to surprise Cousin Twombley by slip- 
 ping 'em onto the table to-morrow for break- 
 fast." 
 
 Say, the thought of what the Twombley- 
 Cranes' English flunkies would do at the sight 
 of pumpkin pie on the breakfast table was most 
 too much for me. As it was, I had a bad 
 coughin' fit, and when I recovered I suggests 
 eager, " Well, why not? They'll keep a day 
 or so, won't they? " 
 
 " Not while I'm as hungry as I am now," 
 says she. " And I'm dog tired too. Young 
 man, where '11 we find a good, respectable tavern 
 around here? " 
 
 " A which? " says I. " Oh! I get you 
 hotel. Now let's see. Why, I expect the best 
 thing you can do is to jump in one of these 
 motor buses and ride down to no, I might's 
 well go along, as it's right on my way home. 
 Here's one coming now." 
 
 So we piles in, umbrella, pies, and all, and
 
 170 SHORTY MtfCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 inside of half an hour I've landed the whole 
 shootin' match safe in a two-fifty air-shaft 
 room in one of those punk little ten-story hotels 
 down in the 40 's. I showed 'em how to work 
 the electric light switch, got 'em some ice water, 
 and pointed out the fire escape. In fact, I done 
 everything but tuck 'em in bed, and I had said 
 good-night twice and was makin' my getaway, 
 when Mrs. Leavitt follows me out into the hall, 
 shuttin' Hubby in by himself. 
 
 ".Just one thing more, Mr. McCabe," says 
 she. " I guess you needn't say anything to 
 Twombley-Crane about our bein' here." 
 
 " Oh! " says I. " Goin' to spring it on him 
 to-morrow yourself! " 
 
 " Maybe," says she, " and then again maybe 
 I won't go near 'em at all. I'm going to think 
 it over." 
 
 " I see," says I. " But I expect Mr. Leavitt 
 will be up." 
 
 " What, alone? " says she. " Him! Not 
 much! ' 
 
 " Oh! " says I, and while I didn't mean it to 
 show, I expect I must have humped my eye- 
 brows a little. Anyway, she comes right back 
 at me. 
 
 " Well, why should he! " she demands. 
 
 " Why, I don't know," says I; " only he 
 he's the head of the house, ain't he! ' 
 
 " No, he ain't," says she. " I don't say it in 
 a boasting spirit, for it's always been one of 
 the trials of my life; but Mr. Leavitt ain't at
 
 UNDER THE WIRE WITH EDWIN 171 
 
 the head of anything never was, and never 
 will be." 
 
 " Had plenty of chance, I expect? " says I 
 sarcastic. 
 
 1 1 Just the same chances other men have had, 
 and better," says she. " Why, when we was 
 first married I thought he was going to be one 
 of the biggest men in this country. Everyone 
 did. He looked it and talked it. Talk? He 
 was the best talker in the county! Is yet, for 
 that matter. Course, he'd been around a lot 
 as a young man taught school in Rutland for 
 two terms, and visited a whole summer in Bel- 
 lows Falls. Besides there was the blood, him 
 being an own cousin to Twombley-Crane. Just 
 that was most enough to turn my head, even if 
 that branch of the family never did have much 
 to do with the Leavitt side. But it's a fact that 
 Mr. Leavitt 's mother and Twombley-Crane 's 
 father were brother and sister." 
 
 " You don't mean it! " says I. 
 
 " Of course," she goes on, " the Leavitts 
 always stayed poor country folks, and the 
 Cranes went to the city and got rich. When the 
 old homestead was left to Mr. Leavitt, though, 
 he said he wasn't going to spend the rest of his 
 life on an old, worn-out farm. No, Sir! He 
 was going to do something better than that, 
 something big ! We all believed it too. For the 
 first six months of our married life I kept my 
 trunk packed, ready to start any minute for 
 anywhere, expecting him to find that grand
 
 172 SHOKTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 career he'd talked so much about. But some- 
 how we never started. That wa'n't the worst 
 of it, either. A year slipped by, and we hadn't 
 done a thing, didn't even raise enough pota- 
 toes to last us through Thanksgivin ', and if we 
 hadn 't sold the hay standing and the apple crop 
 on the trees I don't know how we'd got through 
 the winter. 
 
 " Along about the middle of March I got my 
 eyes wide open. I saw that if anything was 
 done to keep us out of the poorhouse I'd got to 
 do it. Old Mr. Clark wanted someone to help 
 in the general store about then, and I took the 
 job at six dollars a week. Inside of a year I 
 was actin' postmistress, had full charge of the 
 dry goods side, did all the grocery buyin', and 
 was agent for a horse rake and mower concern. 
 Six months later, when Mr. Clark gave up alto- 
 gether and the store was for sale, I jumped in, 
 mortgaged the Leavitt place all it would stand, 
 borrowed fifteen hundred dollars from a 
 brother-in-law back in Nova Scotia, and put a 
 new sign over the door. That was over thirty 
 years ago; but it's there yet. It reads, ' Mrs. 
 Sallie Leavitt, General Merchandise.' " 
 
 " But where did Mr. Leavitt fit in? " says I. 
 
 " Humph! ' says she. " Mostly he's set 
 around the store and talked. Oh, he helps with 
 the mail, cooks a little when I'm too rushed and 
 ain't got any hired girl, and washes dishes. 
 That's always been the one useful thing he 
 could do, wash dishes. I expect that's why
 
 UNDER THE WIRE WITH EDWIN 173 
 
 everybody at the Mills calls him Mr. Sallie 
 Leavitt. There! It's out. I don't know as I 
 ever said that aloud before in my life. I've 
 been too much ashamed. But I might's well 
 face the truth now. He's just Mr. Sallie 
 Leavitt. And if you don't think that hurts for 
 me to have tQ own up to it, then you're mighty 
 mistaken. Maybe you can guess too why I 
 ain't so anxious to parade a husband like that 
 before folks." 
 
 " Oh, well," says I, " sometimes a man gets 
 tagged with a nickname like that and don't half 
 deserve it." 
 
 " Huh! " says she. " You don't know Mr. 
 Leavitt as I do. I wa'n't goin' to mention it; 
 but but well, he's a book reader.'* 
 
 " A what? " says I. 
 
 " Reads books," says she. " Just reads and 
 reads and reads. He's got what he calls our 
 circulatin' lib'ry in a room he's fixed up over 
 the store. Lends out books at five cents a week, 
 you know. But, land! he reads more of 'em 
 himself than any ten customers. History, ex- 
 plorin' books, and novels specially novels 
 about English society folks, like ' Lady Thing- 
 umbob's Daughter,' and so on. And the fool 
 ideas he gets from 'em! I expect you'll laugh, 
 but he actually tries to talk and act like them 
 people he reads about. Learned to drink tea 
 out of books, Mr. Leavitt has, and wants me to 
 quit the store every afternoon about half past 
 four and drink it with him. Think of that!
 
 174 SHOKTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 And instead of havin' his supper at night he 
 wants to call it dinner. Did you ever? Yes, 
 Sir, that's the kind of tomfoolery I've been 
 puttin' up with all these years, and tryin' to 
 hide from the neighbors! Maybe you'll notice 
 I always call him Mr. Leavitt? That's why; to 
 cover up the fact that he's only well, what 
 they call him. And so, cousin or no cousin, I 
 don't see tow I'm goin' to bring myself to let 
 the Twombley-Cranes know. Anyway, I want 
 to sleep on it first. That's why I'd just as soon 
 you wouldn't tell 'em we're here." 
 
 " I see," says I. " And you can bank on 
 me." 
 
 I didn't peep a word, either. It's only the 
 followin' evenin', though, that Sadie an- 
 nounces : 
 
 " What do you think, Shorty? A Vermont 
 cousin of Mr. Twombley-Crane is in town, with 
 his wife, and they're going to give them a din- 
 ner party Friday night. ' ' 
 
 " Gee! " says I. " I'd like to be there." 
 
 "You will be," says she; "for you are 
 specially invited." 
 
 " Eh? " says I. "To meet the poor rela- 
 tions? How's that? " 
 
 " Who said they were poor? " says Sadie. 
 " Why, Twombley-Crane says that his cousin's 
 wife is one of the shrewdest business women 
 he's ever heard of. He has been handling her 
 investments, and says she must be worth half a 
 million, at least; all made out of a country
 
 UNDER THE WIRE WITH EDWIN 175 
 
 store, maple sugar bushes, and farm mortgages. 
 I'm crazy to see her, aren't you? ' 
 
 11 What Sallie? " says I. " Half a million! 
 Must be some mistake." 
 
 Course I had to tell her then about the couple 
 I'd run across, and about Mr. Sallie, and the 
 pies, and the string bonnet. We had such a 
 warm debate too, as to whether she was really 
 well off or not, that next day my curiosity got 
 the best of me, and I calls up the hotel to see if 
 the Leavitts are in. Well, they was, and Mrs. 
 Leavitt, when she finds who it is, asks pleadin' 
 if I won't run up and see 'em a little while. 
 
 " Please come," says she; " for I'm com- 
 pletely flabbergasted. It's it's about Mr. 
 Leavitt." 
 
 11 Why, sure," says I. " I'll come right up." 
 
 I finds 'em sittin' in their dull, bare little hotel 
 room, one on each side of the bed, with the ex- 
 tension grip half packed on the floor. " Well," 
 says I, " what's up! " 
 
 " Ask him," says she, noddin' at Mr. Sallie. 
 
 But Leavitt only hangs his head guilty and 
 shuffles his feet. " Then I'll tell you," says 
 she. ' ' Yesterday he slipped out, hunted up Jiis 
 cousin, and got us invited to dinner. More'n 
 that, he said we'd come." 
 
 * ' Well, why not go 1 " says I. 
 
 " Because," says she, " I I just can't do it. 
 I I'm well, we've been around some since we 
 got here, lookin' into the big stores and so on, 
 and I've been noticin' the women, how they
 
 176 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 talk and act and dress and and oh, I'm 
 afraid, that's all! " 
 
 11 Why, Sallie! " says Mr. Leavitt. 
 
 " Yes, I am," she insists. "I'm plumb 
 scared at the thought of mixin' with folks like 
 that just plumb scared. And, as you -know, 
 Mr. Leavitt, it's the first time in my life I've 
 ever been afraid of anything." 
 
 " Yes, that's so," says he, " that's so, Sallie. 
 But you're not going to be afraid now. Why 
 should you? " 
 
 "Listen to him, Mr. McCabe! " says she. 
 " Do you know what he wants me to do? Spend 
 a lot of money on clothes and rig myself up 
 like like that woman we saw the other night ! ' ' 
 
 " And you're going to do it too," says Mr. 
 Leavitt. " You can afford to have the best 
 there is, a Paris frock, and the things that 
 go with it. I mean you shall, not for my sake, 
 but for your own. You're a wonderful woman, 
 Sallie, and you ought to know it for once in 
 your life. I want my cousin to know it too. 
 You've not only got more brains than most 
 women, but you're mighty good looking, and in 
 the proper clothes you could hold up your head 
 in any company." 
 
 " Pshaw! ' : says Mrs. Leavitt, almost 
 blushin'. " Right before Mr. McCabe too! " 
 
 " Well, isn't it so? " demands Mr. Leavitt, 
 turnin' to me. 
 
 " Why er of course it is," says I. 
 
 I tried to make it enthusiastic, and if it come
 
 UNDER THE WIRE WITH EDWIN 177 
 
 out a little draggy it must have been on account 
 of that ancient lid of hers that's hangin' in full 
 view on one of the bedposts. As a matter of 
 fact, she's one of these straight-built, husky, 
 well-colored dames, with fairly good lines in 
 spite of what the village dressmaker had done 
 to her. 
 
 " There! " says Mr. Leavitt. " Now let's 
 have no more talk of going home. Let's go out 
 and get the clothes right now. Perhaps Mr. 
 McCabe can show us where we can buy the right 
 things. ' ' 
 
 " Land sakes! What a man you are, Mr. 
 Leavitt! " says Sallie, weakenin' a little. 
 
 Five minutes more of that kind of talk, and 
 he 'd got her to tie on her bonnet. Then, with 
 me leadin' the way and him urgin' her on 
 from behind, we starts on our shoppin' expe- 
 dition. 
 
 " It's to be a complete outfit, from the 
 ground up, ain't it? " says I. 
 
 " That's it," says Mr. Leavitt. 
 
 So, instead of botherin' with any department 
 stores, I steers 'em straight for Madame La- 
 plante's, where they set you back hard, but can 
 furnish a whole trousseau, I'm told, at an 
 hour's notice. 
 
 Mrs. Leavitt was still protestin' that maybe 
 she wouldn't do any more than look at the 
 things, and how she wouldn't promise to wear 
 'em even if she did buy a few; but you know 
 what smooth salesladies they have in such
 
 178 SHOETY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 places. When I left two of 'em was gushin' 
 over Mrs. Leavitt's chestnut-tinted hair that 
 she had piled up in slick coils under the bonnet, 
 and a third was runnin' a tape over her skill- 
 ful. If it had been anybody but Mrs. Sallie 
 Leavitt, I'd have hated to take chances on 
 havin' to write the check when it was all 
 over. 
 
 "Well, is she coming?" asks Sadie that 
 night. 
 
 " Search me," says I. "I wouldn't bet a 
 nickel either way." 
 
 That was Wednesday. All day Thursday I 
 was expectin' to be called in again, or hear that 
 Sallie had made a break back for Vermont. 
 But not a word. Nor on Friday, either. So at 
 seven o'clock that night, as we collected in the 
 Twombley-Cranes' drawin' room, there was 
 some suspense ; for at least half of us were wise 
 to the situation. At seven-fifteen, though, they 
 arrives. 
 
 And, say, I wish you could have seen Mrs. 
 Sallie Leavitt of Clarks Mills! I don't know 
 what it cost to work the miracle, but, believe 
 me, it was worth twice the money! Leavitt was 
 dead right. All she needed was the regalia. 
 And she'd got it too, sort of a black lacy crea- 
 tion, with jet spangles all over it, and long, 
 sweepin' folds from the waist down, and with 
 all that hair of hers done up flossy and topped 
 with a fancy rhinestone headdress, she looked 
 tall and classy. And stunnin"? Say, she had a
 
 UNDER THE WIRE WITH EDWIN 179 
 
 neck and shoulders that made that Mrs. K. 
 Taylor French party look like a museum ex- 
 hibit ! 
 
 Then there was Mr. Leavitt, all dolled up as 
 correct as any cotillion leader, balancin' his 
 silk tile graceful on one wrist, and strokin' 
 his close-cropped mustache with his white 
 glove, just as Mrs. Humphry Ward describes 
 on page 147. 
 
 " Well! " gasps Sadie. " I thought you said 
 they were a pair of countrified freaks ! ' ' 
 
 " You should have seen 'em when they 
 landed with the pies," says I. 
 
 And, if you'll believe me, Mr. Leavitt not 
 only had on the costume, but he had the lines 
 too. Sounded a little booky in spots maybe; 
 but he was right there with the whole bag of 
 chatty tricks, : the polite salute for the hostess, 
 a neat little epigram when it come his turn to 
 fill in the talk, a flash or so of repartee, and an 
 anecdote that got a good hand all round the 
 table. You see, he was sort of doublin' in brass, 
 as it were; conversin' for two, you know. For 
 Sallie was playin' it safe, watchin' how the 
 others negotiated the asparagus, passin' up all 
 the dishes she couldn't dope out, and sayin' 
 mighty little. Mostly she's watchin' Mr. Lea- 
 vitt, her eyes growin' brighter and rounder as 
 the meal progresses, and at last fairly beamin' 
 across the table at him. 
 
 I didn't quite get the slant of all this until 
 later, when we'd finished and was trailin' into
 
 180 SHOKTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 the lib'ry. Mrs. Leavitt breaks loose from 
 Twombley-Crane and falls back alongside of 
 me. 
 
 " Well, how goes it? " says I. " Wasn't so 
 bad, after all, was it? ' 
 
 " Don't tell anyone," she whispers, " but 
 I'm so scared I'd like to yell and run away. I 
 would too, if it wasn't for Edwin." 
 
 " Who? " says I. 
 
 " Mr. Leavitt," says she. "He's going to 
 be Edwin to me after this, though my Edwin. 
 Isn't he great, though? Course, I always knew 
 he was a good talker, and all that; but to do it 
 in comp'ny, before a lot of city folks well, I 
 must say I'm mighty proud of such a husband, 
 mighty proud! And anybody who ever calls 
 him Mr. Sallie Leavitt again has got to reckon 
 with me! They'll never have a chance to. do it 
 in darks Mills. The Mills ain't good enough 
 for Edwin. I've just found that out. And to 
 think that all these years I've believed it was 
 the other way round! But I'm going to make 
 up for all that. You'll see ! " 
 
 Uh-huh! Mrs. Leavitt J s a woman of her 
 word. Soon as she can settle up things at the 
 store, foreclose a few mortgages, and unload 
 a few blocks of stock that can't be carried 
 safe without watchin', it's goin' to be the 
 grand European tour for her and Edwin, 
 and maybe a house in town when they come 
 back. 
 
 " Which only goes to show, Mrs. McCabe,"
 
 UNDEK THE WIEE WITH EDWIN 181 
 
 says I, " how it's never too late to discover 
 that, after all, old Hubby's the one best bet on 
 the card." 
 
 " Pooh! " says Sadie. " It isn't always safe 
 to let him know it, even if you have."
 
 CHAPTEE XII 
 
 A FIFTY-FIFTY SPLIT WITH HUNK 
 
 " AND believe me, Shorty," goes on Mr. 
 Hunk Burley, tappin' a stubby forefinger on 
 my knee, and waggin' his choppin '-block head 
 energetic, " when I get behind a proposition 
 yuh goin' to get some action. " 
 
 " Sure, I know, Hunk," says I, glancin' up 
 at the clock uneasy and squirmin' a bit in the 
 swing chair. 
 
 You see, this had been goin' on now for near 
 an hour, and while it might be more or less en- 
 tertainin' as well as true, I wa'n't crazy about 
 listenin' to it all the afternoon. For one thing, 
 I wa'n't comin' in on his scheme. Not a 
 chance. I can be bilked into buyin' tickets for 
 a raffle, even when I wouldn't take the junk 
 that's put up as a gift, and I'm easy in other 
 ways; but when it comes to any gate-money 
 game, from launchin' a musical comedy to 
 openin' a new boxin' club, I'm Tight Tommy 
 with the time lock set. None in mine! I've had 
 my guesses as to what the public wants, and I 
 know I'm a perfectly punk prophet. 
 
 Besides, it was' about time for J. Bayard 
 Steele to show up with this gent from Wash- 
 
 182
 
 A FIFTY-FIFTY SPLIT WITH HUNK 183 
 
 ington, Cuyler Morrison De Kay, and well, 
 I'd just as soon not be bothered to explain 
 Hunk Burley to a pair like that. You know the 
 kind of bygone friends that do need explainin' 
 well, Hunk needed it bad ; for as far as looks 
 went he was about the crudest party that ever 
 sported a diamond elephant stickpin or chewed 
 twenty-five-cent cigars for a steady diet. 
 
 Built wide and substantial, Hunk was, with 
 the longest arms you ever saw outside an iron 
 cage, and a set of rugged features that had the 
 Old Man of the Mountain lookin' like a ribbon 
 clerk. Keg'lar cave dweller's face, it was; and 
 with his bristly hair growin' down to a point 
 just above his eyes, and the ear tufts, and the 
 mossy-backed paws well, if there ever was a 
 throw-back to the Stone Age he was it. 
 
 As a rubber in my old trainin' camp outfit, 
 though, Hunk had his good points. I've gone 
 on the table to him with a set of shoulder 
 muscles as stiff as a truck trace and inside of 
 half an hour jumped up as limber as a whale- 
 bone whip. And I'd never sign up for more'n 
 a ten-round go without sendin' for Hunk first 
 thing after the forfeits was up. Course, when 
 it come to society, there was others I liked bet- 
 ter, and I expect after I quit the ring I didn't 
 take any particular pains to keep his name in 
 my address book. 
 
 But Hunk was one of the old crowd that 
 didn't need much dodgin'. He went his way 
 like I went mine, and I hadn't seen him for
 
 184 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 years when lie tramps into the studio here the 
 other noon, treadin' heavy on his heels and 
 wearin' this suit of peace-disturbin' plaids. He 
 hadn't climbed the stairs just for any Auld 
 Lang Syne nonsense, either. He was there on 
 business. 
 
 That is, it seemed like business to him; for, 
 in his special way, Hunk had been comin' along. 
 He hadn't stuck to bein' a rubber. He'd done 
 a strong-man turn with a medicine top for 
 awhile, then he'd worked into the concession 
 game on the county fair circuit, managed a 
 Ferris wheel and carrousel outfit, and even 
 swung an Uncle Tom troupe, with six real 
 bloodhounds, through the town halls of four- 
 teen States. 
 
 " Pullin' down the kale by the double hands- 
 ful, mind you," says Hunk. " But no more! 
 The movies has queered the Topsy business. 
 Absolutely! I seen it comin' just in time, and 
 I've been layin' low until I could find something 
 to beat it. Say, I've got it too. Not for this 
 territory. I'll give the film people two years 
 more to kill themselves in the North, with the 
 rot they're puttin' out. But in the South they 
 ain't got such a hold, and the folks are differ- 
 ent. They're just old style enough down there 
 to fall for a street parade and fifty-cent seats 
 on the blue benches. They got the coin too 
 don't make no mistake about that. And this 
 Great Australian Hippodrome will make 'em 
 loosen up like a Rube showin' his best girl what
 
 A FIFTY-FIFTY SPLIT WITH HUNK 185 
 
 he can do throwin' baseballs at the dummies. 
 Yea, Bo! It's the biggest bargain on the mar- 
 ket too. Come in with me, Shorty, on a half 
 int'rest, splittin' fifty-fifty." 
 
 " Too big a gamble, Hunk," says I. " I've 
 seen more money dropped on ring shows 
 than " 
 
 11 But we carry a pair of boxin' kangaroos," 
 he breaks in eager, " that pulls an act they go 
 nutty over. And our tribe of original wild 
 Bush people has never been shown this side of 
 Melbourne." 
 
 " Sorry, Hunk," says I, " but if I had all 
 that money tied up in billboard sheets and 
 smoky canvas, I couldn't sleep well on windy 
 nights. None of your flat-car hippodromes for 
 me. That's final! Besides, I got a date with 
 a couple of swells that's liable to show up here 
 any minute, and I ought to " 
 
 What I really ought to have done was to 
 have chucked a table cover over Hunk and 
 played him for a piece of statuary ; but before I 
 can make a move in walks J. Bayard and this 
 Washington gent. Next minute we was bein' 
 introduced, and all I can do is stand in front 
 of Hunk with one hand behind me, givin' him 
 the fade-away signal energetic. 
 
 Does he get it? Not Hunk! The one real 
 sensitive spot in his system can be reached only 
 by sluggin' him behind the ear with a bung 
 starter, and I didn't have one handy. He 
 shoves his chair back into the corner and con-
 
 186 SHOETY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 tinues to gawp; so I just has to let on that he 
 ain't there at all. 
 
 Course I'd been put wise to who this Cuyler 
 Morrison De Kay was. He's what Mr. Steele 
 calls an object of altruism. In other words, 
 he's No. 7 on Pyramid Gordon's list, and our 
 job is to frame up for him some kind and gen- 
 erous deed, accordin' to the specifications of 
 the will. As usual too, J. Bayard had got all 
 balled up over doin' it; for while Mr. De Kay 
 ain't quite the plute he looks, it turns out he's 
 holdin' down one of them government cinches, 
 with a fat salary, mighty little real work, and 
 no worry. He's a widower, and a real elegant 
 gent too. You could tell that by the wide ribbon 
 on his shell eyeglasses and the gray suede 
 gloves. 
 
 I could see in a minute that he'd sort of put 
 the spell on Steele, most likely because he was 
 a genuine sample of what J. Bayard was givin' 
 only a fair imitation of. You know, one of 
 these straight-backed, aristocratic old boys that 
 somehow has the marks of havin' been every- 
 where, seen everything, and done everything. 
 You'd expect him to be able to mix a salad 
 dressin' a la Montmartre, and reel off anec- 
 dotes about the time when he was a guest of the 
 Grand Duke So and So at his huntin' lodge. 
 Kind of a faded, thin-blooded, listless party, 
 somewhere in the late fifties, with droopy eye 
 corners and a sarcastic bite to his offhand re- 
 marks.
 
 A FIFTY-FIFTY SPLIT WITH HUNK 187 
 
 I may as well admit that I didn't take so 
 kindly to Cuyler from the first. Also I was a 
 little peeved at J. Bayard when I discovers he's 
 lugged him up here without fin din' out much 
 about him. Hadn't even asked De Kay how it 
 was him and Pyramid Gordon had bumped up 
 against one another. So I fires that at him 
 straight. 
 
 " Let's see," says I, " where was it you and 
 Mr. Gordon got mixed up? " 
 
 " Gordon? " says he, shruggin' his shoul- 
 ders and smilin' cynical. " Really, I can't 
 conceive just why he should remember me. 
 True, during our brief acquaintance, he showed 
 a most active dislike for me; but I assure you 
 it was not mutual. A man of Gordon's 
 
 type Bah! One simply ignores them, you 
 
 know. ' ' 
 
 " You don't say! " says I. " Now I had an 
 idea that wa'n't so dead easy ignorin' Pyra- 
 mid." 
 
 Cuyler humps his gray eyebrows as if he 
 was slightly annoyed. " I was referring 
 merely to his offensive personality," he goes 
 on. " One does not quarrel with a bulldog for 
 its lack of manners." 
 
 * ' Ah, come ! ' ', says I. ' ' Maybe he took you 
 for one of these parlor spaniels and was tryin* 
 to throw a scare into you witjb. a few growls." 
 
 I could hear J. Bayard gasp protesting but 
 Cuyler shrugs it off without wincin'. " Just 
 how he regarded me was a subject to which I
 
 188 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 gave not the slightest thought," says he. "I 
 was concerned only with his enterprise of cross- 
 ing the Peoria & Dayton at grade in the face 
 of an injunction issued by the State supreme 
 court. You see, I happened to be president of 
 the road at the time." 
 
 " Now we're gettin' to the plot of the piece," 
 says I. " You blocked him off, eh? " 
 
 " I did my best," says Mr. De Kay. " Of 
 course I was not a practical railroad man. I'd 
 been somewhat of a figurehead, you understand. 
 But in this emergency I was called back from 
 Europe and at the urgent request of the di- 
 rectors I assumed active charge. My first step 
 was to secure the injunction." 
 
 " Which worried him, I expect? " says I, 
 winkin' at J. Bayard. 
 
 " Quite as much as if I had sent a note by 
 my office boy," says Cuyler. " He rushed a 
 construction train with two hundred men to 
 the spot and gave the order himself to tear up 
 our tracks. Well, it was rather a spirited con- 
 test. I mobilized our entire working force, had 
 them sworn in as deputy sheriffs, and kept 
 three switch engines moving up and down the 
 line. For forty-eight hours we held them 
 back." 
 
 " And then? " says I. 
 
 Cuyler executes that careless shoulder shrug 
 once more. " Rifles," says he. "I suppose I 
 should have retaliated with machine guns; but 
 I preferred to put my trust in the law of the
 
 A FIFTY-FIFTY SPLIT WITH HUNK 
 
 land. Of course I found out how absurd that 
 was later on. Gordon crossed our grade. 
 After four or five years of expensive litigation 
 we gave up. By that time our road had become 
 part of the Gordon system. I was glad to get 
 48 for my holdings ; so you see his victory was 
 quite complete. But the only real personal 
 contact I had with him was during those two 
 days of the crossing war when we took our 
 meals at the wretched little hotel, facing each 
 other across the table. Fancy ! His coarse at- 
 tempts to treat the situation humorously were 
 more offensive, if anything, than his guerrilla 
 business tactics. An ill-bred, barbarous fellow, 
 this Gordon of yours." 
 
 " Huh! " says I. " He wa'n't any parlor 
 entertainer, that's a fact; but take it from me, 
 Mr. De Kay, he was a good deal of a man, for 
 all that." 
 
 " So, I presume, was Captain Kidd," sneers 
 Cuyler, " and Jesse James." 
 
 " Maybe," I comes back kind of hot. " But 
 Pyramid Gordon was white enough to want 
 to divide his pile among the poor prunes 
 he'd put out here and there along the way. 
 You're on the list too, and the chief object of 
 this little tete-a-tete is to frame up some plan 
 of givin' you a boost." 
 
 " So Mr. Steele gave me to understand," 
 says Cuyler. " In my case, however, the 
 reparation comes a little late. The fact is, 
 Gentlemen, that I well, why quibble? I may
 
 190 SHOETY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 be good for another ten or a dozen years. But 
 I shall go on just as I've been going on, follow- 
 ing my daily routine in the department, at my 
 club, at my bachelor quarters. You get into it, 
 you know, bath, breakfast, desk, dinner, a 
 rubber or two of bridge, and bed. A trifle mo- 
 notonous, but a comfortable, undisturbed, as- 
 sured existence. I may have had ambitions 
 once, yes, I'm quite sure, but no longer. 
 After my er my elimination, I got this place 
 In the department. There I've stuck for fifteen 
 years. I've settled into official routine; I'm 
 fixed there hard and fast. It's so with many of 
 us. Most of us recognize the hopelessness of 
 ever pulling out. At least I do, fully. As I 
 sometimes confess, I am merely one of the un- 
 buried dead. And there you are ! ' : 
 
 Kind of took me off my guard, that did. And 
 me about to knock him so hard ! I glances over 
 at J. Bayard sort of foolish, and he stares back 
 vacant and helpless. Somehow we'd never been 
 up against a proposition like this, and it had us 
 fannin' the air. 
 
 " Unburied dead, eh? " says I. "Oh come, 
 Mr. De Kay, ain't that drawin' it a little 
 strong? Why, you ought to have lots of punch 
 left in you yet. All you got to do is buck 
 up." 
 
 * ' The optimism of youth ! ' ' says he. "I 
 suppose I ought to feel grateful, Professor Mc- 
 Cabe, for your well intentioned advice. And I 
 can almost say that I wish I might "
 
 A FIFTY-FIFTY SPLIT WITH HUNK 191 
 
 He don't get a chance to finish; for this is 
 right where Hunk Burley, that I'd almost for- 
 got was in the room, suddenly kicks into the 
 debate. I'd felt one or two tugs at my coat; 
 but this last one was so vigorous it nearly 
 whirls me around. And as I turns I finds him 
 blinkin' and splutterin' excited, like he'd 
 swallowed his cigar. 
 
 " Eh? " says I. " What's troublm' you, 
 Hunk? " 
 
 " He he's the guy," says Hunk, " the very 
 guy! " 
 
 " Wha-a-at! " says I, followin' the look in 
 them wide-set pop eyes of his. " Who is? " 
 
 " Him," says he, pointin' to Cuyler. " He's 
 a reg'lar guy, he is; the spit and image of what 
 I been wantin' to connect with these last six 
 months. Say, Shorty, put me next." 
 
 " Gwan! " says I. " You ain't supposed to 
 exist. Paint your funnels black and run the 
 blockade." 
 
 At which Cuyler, who has been starin' cu- 
 rious through his glasses, steps forward. 
 " What is it? " says he. " Do I understand 
 that the gentleman wishes to speak to me? ' 
 
 " You're hootin'," says Hunk. " Only I 
 ain't no gent. I'm just Hunk Burley, managin' 
 producer. Tent shows is my line, ring or stage, 
 and I'm carryin' a proposition up my cuff that 
 means a lot of easy money to whoever grabs it 
 first. Do you get me? ' 
 
 " Ah, stow it, Hunk! " says I. " Mr. De
 
 192 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 Kay ain't one of your crowd. Can't you see 
 he's " 
 
 " But with him out front," breaks in Hunk 
 eager, " and pullin' that swell line of patter, 
 we could pack the reserved benches from dirt 
 to canvas. Honest, we could! Say, Mister, 
 lemme put it to you on the level. You buy in 
 with me on this Great Australian Hippodrome, 
 a half int'rest for twelve thou cash, leave me 
 the transportation and talent end, while you do 
 the polite gab at the main entrance, and if we 
 don't lug away the daily receipts in sugar bar- 
 rels I'll own the boxin' kangaroos for first 
 cousins. Why, it's the chance of a lifetime! 
 What do you say to it? " 
 
 And you should have seen the look on Cuyler 
 Morrison's aristocratic map as he inspects 
 Hunk up and down and it dawns on him that 
 he's bein' invited to break into the circus busi- 
 ness. But after the first shock has passed off 
 he ends by smilin' indulgent. 
 
 " My good fellow," says he, " you flatter me. 
 My qualifications for such a partnership are 
 entirely too limited. ' ' 
 
 " If you mean you couldn't get away with 
 it," says Hunk, " you got another guess. Why, 
 in one forenoon I could coach you up for a spiel 
 that would set 'em mobbin' the ticket wagons! 
 And with you in a white silk lid drivin' four 
 spotted ponies and leadin' the grand street 
 parade say they'd be lettin' out the schools 
 for our matinees."
 
 A FIFTY-FIFTY SPLIT WITH HUNK 193 
 
 Out of the tail of my eye I could see that J. 
 Bayard was speechless with indignation. But 
 what could I do? The only way of stoppin' 
 Hunk was to choke him, which wa'n't any pink 
 tea proce.edin'. Besides, Cuyler seems to be 
 mildly entertained at it all. 
 
 " A fascinating picture, truly! " says he. 
 " I have often envied those important person- 
 ages at the head of street parades without ever 
 dreaming that some day the opportunity might 
 
 come to me of But alas ! I have no twelve 
 
 thousand to invest in such an estimable enter- 
 prise. ' ' 
 
 11 Ah, quit your kiddin'! " says Hunk. 
 
 He wouldn't believe for a minute that Cuyler 
 couldn't cash a check for twice that, wouldn't 
 even listen to Mr. De Kay while he protests 
 that really he's a poor man livin' on a gov- 
 ernment salary. Hunk knew better. The rib- 
 bon on the shell-rim eyeglasses had got him, 
 too. 
 
 " Very well," laughs Cuyler, givin' up the 
 attempt. " But I must insist that I have no 
 surging ambition, at my time of life, to drive 
 spotted ponies in public. In fact, I've no ambi- 
 tions at all. ' ' 
 
 " Then that's just why you ought to hook 
 up with me," says Hunk. " Wait until you've 
 been out a week on the road; that'll be enough 
 to get you interested. And take it from me, 
 there ain't any game like it, pilin' out of your 
 berth at a new pitch every mornin', breakfast
 
 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 in the mess car on the sidin', strollin' out to the 
 grounds and watchin' the pegs sunk, drivin 7 
 around town to take a glance at the paper dis- 
 play, formin' on for the parade, sizin' up the 
 sidewalk crowds, and a couple of hours later 
 seem' 'em collectin' from all sides around the 
 big top ; then at night, when you 've had two big 
 houses, to check up the receipts and figure out 
 how much you are to the good. Say, don 't make 
 any mistake, that's livin'! It ain't layin' back 
 easy and havin' things handed you on a platter : 
 it's goin' out after wfyat you want, your jaw set 
 and your shoulders braced, and bringin' home 
 the bacon." 
 
 Cuyler, he's still listenin' sort of amused; 
 but he's inspectin' this crude specimen in front 
 of him with a little more int'rest. He shakes 
 his head though. 
 
 " I've no doubt the life is all you describe," 
 says he. " However, it is not for me." 
 
 " Why not? " demands Hunk. " Didn't I 
 just hear you tellin' how you was travelin' with 
 a bunch of dead ones? Ain't stuck on it, are 
 you? And the answer is, Come out of your 
 trance. I take it you ain't anybody special 
 where you are now; just one of the cogs. Buy 
 in with me, and I'll make you the main belt. 
 That's right! Say, I'll tell you what! We'll 
 feature you on the four-sheets De Kay & Co.'s 
 Grand Australian Hippodrome. Your picture 
 in a wreath of roses, no, a horseshoe's better, 
 and we'll play up the show as a refined, edu-
 
 A FIFTY-FIFTY SPLIT WITH HUNK 195 
 
 catin', moral exhibition. They'll believe it 
 when they see you. You'll be the big noise, the 
 man in front. You'll hear 'em pas sin' the tip 
 along the curb as the parade swings by, 
 1 That's him Mr. De Kay! ' And you'll be 
 the one to receive the Mayor and his wife and 
 show 'em to their arena box. Every day a new 
 Mayor in a new town. And you'll know 'em all, 
 and they'll know you. What! That'll be bein' 
 somebody, eh? " 
 
 He'd stepped up, right in front of Cuyler, 
 talkin' free and easy, as one man to another. 
 But then he always was that way. Not fresh, 
 you know, nor cocky ; but just as if he was as 
 good as anybody, and allowed everybody was 
 as good as him. He's lookin' Mr. De Kay 
 straight in between the eyes, good-natured but 
 earnest, and all of a sudden he reaches out a 
 big paw and slaps him folksy on the shoulder. 
 
 " Well, Brother," says he, " how about it! " 
 
 I don't know how it struck J. Bayard Steele, 
 but as for me, right then and there I got wise to, 
 the fact that, in spite of the ear tufts and low- 
 brow manners, Hunk Burley, man for man, 
 would measure up with De Kay or anyone else; 
 that is, within his limits. For he'd found his 
 job. He was there with the goods ! 
 
 The same thought must have hit Cuyler too. 
 Couldn't help it. He was lookin' level into 
 them steady eyes, hearin' that husky, even 
 voice, and watchin' that calm, rugged face that 
 had so much strength behind it. A party to
 
 196 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 depend on, to tie to. Anyway, something of 
 the kind got him, got him hard. 
 
 4 ' By George ! ' ' says he. * ' I I wish I 
 could! " And with that he gives Hunk the 
 grip, quick and impulsive. 
 
 Which was when I developed this foolish 
 idea. I looks over to J. Bayard and grins. 
 Then I turns back to Cuyler. ' ' Well, it can be 
 fixed," says I. 
 
 " Eh? " says he. " I beg pardon? " 
 
 " Your bit from Pyramid's pile," says I. 
 " If you'll take the chance of chucMn' your 
 salary and quittin' the ranks of the unburied 
 dead, we'll stake you to enough so you can buy 
 in with Hunk. Won't we, Steele? " 
 
 J. Bayard gulps once or twice and looks sort 
 of dazed. " If Mr. De Kay really wishes to 
 connect himself with such a venture," says he, 
 " of course I " 
 
 " I do," breaks in Cuyler. " And I assure 
 you, Gentlemen, that I feel more alive at this 
 moment than I have for the last twenty years. 
 My friend Burley here has done that. I want 
 to go on feeling that way. I am willing to fol- 
 low him anywhere." 
 
 " Then it's a go," says I. " Steele, write a 
 voucher and I'll O.K. it." 
 
 " Good work! " says Hunk, givin' Cuyler an- 
 other bone crushing grip. " And remember, 
 we split fifty-fifty on all the net. I'll close the 
 deal by to-morrow noon, and three weeks from 
 to-day we open in Savannah."
 
 A FIFTY-FIFTY SPLIT WITH HUNK 197 
 
 Half an hour after they'd both gone J. Bay- 
 ard still sits there gazin' vague and puzzled at 
 the silver crook on his walkin' stick. 
 
 " Just fancy! " he mutters. " A circus! ' : 
 
 " Oh, well," says I, " maybe it's better to be 
 keepin' step to * Kockin' the Boat ' than drag- 
 gin' your heels along in the wake of the un- 
 buried dead." 
 
 One thing I'm sure of, Cuyler wa'n't in- 
 dulgin' in any momentary fit. He meant busi- 
 ness. I saw him last night, just as he was 
 startin' for the steamer. 
 
 11 How you and Hunk comin' onf " says I. 
 
 " Excellent! " says he. " We've made some 
 compromises, naturally. For instance, he is to 
 drive the spotted ponies, and I am to wear an 
 ordinary black silk hat when I lead the street 
 parade."
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 A FOLLOW THROUGH BY EGGY 
 
 MIGHT have been a wrong hunch, as it turned 
 out; but for awhile there what I wanted to do 
 most was to take this Eggleston K. Ham, wad 
 him up in a neat little lump, and stuff him into 
 the waste basket. I wouldn't have been exertin* 
 myself much, at that. 
 
 He's one of that kind, you know. Insignifi- 
 cant? Why, in full daylight you almost had 
 to look twice to see him and then you'd be 
 guessin' whether it was a lath that had sprouted 
 whiskers, or whiskers that was tryin' to bud a 
 man ! Them and the thick, gold- rimmed glasses 
 sure did give him a comic, top-heavy look. 
 
 Course, we get all kinds in our buildin'; but 
 when the lady voice culturist on the top floor 
 sublets her studio for the summer to this freak 
 I thought we'd gone from bad to worse. And 
 she even has the nerve to leave the key with 
 me, sayin' Mr. Ham would call for it in the 
 course of a week or so. 
 
 We'd enjoyed about ten days of peace too, 
 with no bloodcurdlin' sounds floatin' down the 
 light shaft, and I was hopin' maybe the sub- 
 tenant had renigged, when one mornin' the 
 
 198
 
 HE SIDLES UP TO THE DESK AND PROCEEDS TO MAKE 
 SOME THROATY NOISES.
 
 A FOLLOW THROUGH BY EGGY 199 1 
 
 front office door opens easy, and in slips this 
 face herbage exhibit. It's no scattered, hillside 
 crop, either, but a full blown Vandyke. When 
 he'd got through growin' the alfalfa, though, 
 his pep seemed to give out, and the rest of him 
 was as wispy as a schoolgirl. 
 
 He sidles up to the desk, where I have my 
 heels elevated restful, and proceeds to make 
 some throaty noises behind his hand. I'm just 
 readin' how Tesreau pulled out of a bad hole 
 in the seventh with two on bases ; but I breaks 
 away long enough to glance over the top of the 
 paper. 
 
 1 ' Go on, shoot it, ' ' says I. 
 
 " I I'm very sorry," says he, " but but I 
 am Mr. Ham." 
 
 * ' Never mind apologizin ', ' ' says I. ' * Maybe 
 it ain't all your fault. After the key, ain't 
 you? " 
 
 " Yes, thank you," says he. 
 
 " Eggleston K., I suppose? " says I. 
 
 " Oh, yes," says he. 
 
 " Here you are, then, Eggy," says I, reachin' 
 into a pigeonhole and producin' it. " What's 
 your instrument of torture, the xylophone? " 
 
 " I I beg pardon? " says he. 
 
 " Come now," says I, " don't tell me you're 
 a trombone fiend ! ' ' 
 
 " Oh, I see," says he. " No, no, I I'm not 
 a musician. ' ' 
 
 " Shake, Eggy! " says I, reachin' out my 
 hand impulsive. " And I don't care how
 
 200 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 cubist pictures you paint up there so long as 
 you ain't noisy about it." 
 
 He fingers his soft hat nervous, smiles sort 
 of embarrassed, and remarks, " But but I'm 
 not an artist either, you know." 
 
 ' ' Well, well ! ' ' says I. ' ' Two misses, and 
 still in the air. Is it anything you can speak 
 of in public? " 
 
 11 Why," says he, " I I've said very little 
 about it, as a matter of fact, but but I 
 am doing a little research work in in anthro- 
 pology." 
 
 " Good night! " says I. " Mixin' things up 
 that's liable to blow the roof off, ain't it? " 
 
 " Why, no," says he, starin' at me puzzled. 
 " It's, merely studying racial characteristics, 
 making comparisons, and so on. Incidentally, 
 I I'm writing a book, I suppose." 
 
 1 1 Oh! "says I. " Authoring? Well, there's 
 no law against it, and ink is cheap. Go to it, 
 Eggy! Top floor, first door to your left." 
 
 And that seems to be the finish of the Ham 
 incident. All was peaceful in the light shaft, 
 no squeaky high C's, no tump-tump-tump on 
 the piano : just the faint tinkle of a typewriter 
 bell now and then to remind us that Eggy was 
 still there. Once in awhile I'd pass him on the 
 stairs, and he'd nod bashful but friendly and 
 then scuttle by like a rabbit. 
 
 " Must be a hot book he's writinM " thinks 
 I, and forgets his existence until the next time. 
 
 The summer moseys along, me bein* busy
 
 A FOLLOW THROUGH BY EGGY 201 
 
 with this and that, goin' and coniin' back, until 
 here the other day when things is dullest Pinck- 
 ney calls up from the club and announces that 
 he's got a new customer for me, someone very 
 special. 
 
 " Visitin' royalty, or what? " says I. 
 
 " Winthrop Hubbard," says he impressive. 
 
 " The guy that invented squash pie? " says I. 
 
 " No, no! " peeves Pinckney. " The son of 
 Joshua Q. Hubbard, you know." 
 
 " I get you," says I. " The Boston cotton 
 mill plute that come so near bitin' a chunk out 
 of the new tariff bill. But I thought he was 
 entertainin' the French Ambassador or some- 
 one at his Newport place? " 
 
 Well, he was; but this is only a flyin' trip. 
 Seems Son Winthrop had fin 'ly been persuaded 
 to begin his business career by bein' made first 
 vice president of the General Sales Company, 
 that handled the export end of the trust's af- 
 fairs. So, right in the height of his season, 
 he's had to scratch his Horse Show entries, 
 drop polo practice, and move into a measly six- 
 room suite in one of them new Fifth-ave. hotels, 
 with three hours of soul-wearin' officework 
 ahead of him five days out of seven. He'd been 
 at the grind a month now, and Mother had wor- 
 ried so about his health that Joshua Q. himself 
 had come down to observe the awful results. 
 Meanwhile Josh had been listenin' to Pinckney 
 boostin' the Physical Culture Studio as the 
 great restorer, and he'd been about persuaded
 
 202 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 that Son ought to take on something of the 
 kind. 
 
 ' * But he wants to see you first, ' ' says Pinck- 
 ney. " You understand. They're rather par- 
 ticular persons, the Hubbards, fine old Plym- 
 outh stock, and all that." 
 
 " Me too," says I. "I'm just as fussy as 
 the next old Ellis Island stock, remember." 
 
 ' ' Oh, bother ! ' ' says Pinckney. * ' Will you 
 come up and meet him, or won't you! ' 
 
 It wa'n't reg'lar ; but as long as he's a friend 
 of Pinckney 's I said I would. 
 
 And, say, Joshua Q. looks the part, all right. 
 One of these imposin', dignified, well kept old 
 sports, with pink cheeks, a long, straight nose, 
 and close-set, gray-blue eyes. They're the real 
 crusty stuff, after all, them Back Bay plutes. 
 For one thing, most of 'em have been at it 
 longer. Take J. Q. Hubbard. Why, I expect 
 he begun havin' his nails manicured before he 
 was ten, and has had his own man to lay out his 
 dinner clothes ever since he got into long pants. 
 
 Nothin' provincial about him, either. Takes 
 his trip across every winter reg'lar, and I sup- 
 pose he's as much at home on Unter den Linden, 
 or the Place de Concord or Neva Prospect as 
 he is on Tremont-st. And, sittin' there sippin' 
 his hock and seltzer, gazin' languid out on 
 Fifth-ave., he gives kind of a classy tone to one 
 of the swellest clubs in New York. There ain't 
 any snobbish frills to him, though. He gets 
 right down to brass tacks.
 
 A FOLLOW THROUGH BY EGGY 203 
 
 " McCabe," says he, " what class of persons 
 do you have as patrons." 
 
 " Why," says I, " mostly Wall Street men, 
 with a sprinklm' of afternoon tea Johnnies, 
 such as Pinckney here." 
 
 14 No objectionable persons, I trust! " says 
 he. 
 
 " Any roughneck gets the quick dump," 
 says I. 
 
 ' ' Ah, I think I catch your meaning, ' ' says he, 
 " and I've no doubt your establishment can 
 supply precisely what my son needs in the way 
 of exercise. I suppose, however, I'd best see 
 for myself. May we go now? " 
 
 " Sure," says I. "No special visitin' 
 days. ' ' 
 
 " Then I'll 'phone Winthrop to meet us 
 there," says he. 
 
 Seems he couldn't get Son direct; but he 
 leaves word at his office, and then off we goes 
 in Pinckney 's limousine de luxe. It ain't often 
 I worry any about the outside looks of things at 
 the joint; but somehow, with this elegant old 
 party comin' to inspect, I was kind of hopin' 
 the stairs had been swept and that Swifty Joe 
 wouldn't have any of his Red Hook friends 
 callin' on him. 
 
 So I most gasps when we piles out in front 
 of the studio and finds a mob that extends from 
 the curb to the front door. Not only that, but 
 the lower hall is crowded, and they line 
 the stairs halfway up. And such a bunch!
 
 204 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 Waps, Dagoes, Matzers, Syrians, all varie- 
 ties. 
 
 "By Jove, though!" says Pinckney. 
 " What's all this?" 
 
 " Looks like someone was openin' a sweat- 
 shop in the buildin', don't it? " says I. "If 
 that's so, here's where I break my lease." 
 
 " Really," says Mr. Hubbard, eyiq' the 
 crowd doubtful, " I hardly believe I care 
 to " 
 
 " Ah, I'll clear 'em out in two shakes," says 
 I. " Just follow after me. Hey, you! Heim 
 gagen. Mushong! Gangway, gangway! " 
 and I motions threatenin'. " Ah, beat it, you 
 garlic destroyers! " I sings out. " Back up 
 there, and take your feet with you ! Back, you 
 fatheads! " and I sends one caromin' to the 
 right and another spinnin' to the left. 
 
 The best I could do, though, was to open a 
 three-foot lane through 'em, and there they 
 stuck, lined up on either side like they was 
 waitin' for a parade. It was something like 
 that too, me leadin' the way, Pinckney steerin' 
 J. Q. by the arm. We'd got inside the doorway 
 without a word bein' said, when a bright-eyed 
 Dago girl with a rainbow-tinted handkerchief 
 about her neck breaks the spell. 
 
 " Picture, Meester take-a da picture? ' 
 says she pleadin'. With that the others breaks 
 loose. " Picture, Meester! Please-a, Meester? 
 Picture, picture! " They says it in all sorts of 
 dialects, with all sorts of variations, all beggin'
 
 A FOLLOW THEOUGH BY EGGY 205 
 
 for the same thing. " Picture, picture! ' : 
 They reaches out, grabbin' at our coat sleeves. 
 Three of 'em had hold of J. Q. at once when I 
 whirls on 'em. 
 
 "Ah, ditch the chorus!" I yells at 'em. 
 " What do you think this is, anyway, a movie 
 outfit? Get back there! Hands off, or I call 
 the cops! " 
 
 It's strenuous work; but I manages to quiet 
 'em long enough for Pinckney and Mr. 
 Hubbard to get through and slip up to the 
 studio. Then I tries to shoo the bunch into 
 the street; but they don't shoo for a cent. 
 They still demands to have their pictures 
 taken. 
 
 " Say, you Carlotta, there! " says I, singlin' 
 out the Dago girl. " Who gave you this nutty 
 picture hunch? " 
 
 " Why, Meester Hama," says she. " Nice-a 
 man, Meester Hama." 
 
 ''Is he? " says I. " Well, you wait here 
 until I see him about this. Wait under- 
 stand? " With that I skips upstairs, and ex- 
 plains the mystery of our bein' mobbed. " It's 
 a whiskered freak on the top floor they're 
 after," says I. " Swifty, run up and get that 
 Ham and Eggs gent. I'm yearnin' for speech 
 with him. I don't know what this is all about; 
 but I'll soon see, and block any encores." 
 
 " Quite right," says Mr. Hubbard. " This is 
 all extremely annoying. Such a rabble ! ' : 
 
 "Positively disgusting!" adds Pinckney.
 
 206 SHOETY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 1 1 A crowd of smelly foreigners ! Shorty, you 
 should put a stop to this." 
 
 1 1 Trust me, ' ' says I. ' ' Ah, here we have the 
 guilty party! " and in comes Swifty towin' 
 Eggleston K. by -the collar. No wonder Eggy 
 is some agitated, after bein' hauled down two 
 flights in that fashion! 
 
 " Well," says I, as Swifty stands him up in 
 front of us. " Who are your outside friends, 
 and why? " 
 
 " My my friends? " says he. " I I don't 
 understand. And I must protest, you know, 
 against this manner of " 
 
 " Gwan! " says I. "I'm doin' all the pro- 
 testin' here. And I want to know what you 
 mean by collectin' such a crowd of steerage 
 junk that my customers can't get in without 
 bein' mobbed? Howled for us to take their 
 pictures, and mentioned your name." 
 
 " Oh! Pictures! " and Eggy seems to get 
 the key. " Why, I I'd forgotten." 
 
 " Can you beat that? " says L "He'd for- 
 gotten! Well, they hadn't. But what's the 
 idea, anyway? Collectin' fam'ly portraits of 
 prominent gunmen, or what? ' 
 
 " It it's my way of getting material for my 
 work," says Eggleston. " You see, through 
 some friends in a settlement house, I get to 
 know these people. I take snapshots of them 
 for nothing. They like to send the pictures 
 back home, you know, and I can use some of 
 them myself."
 
 A FOLLOW THROUGH BY EGGY 207 
 
 " In the book? " says I. 
 
 " Perhaps," says Eggy, blushin'. " I had 
 promised a few of them to take some studio 
 pictures if they would come up to-day." 
 
 " And they didn't do a thing but bring all 
 their friends," says I. " Must be fifty of them 
 down there. You'll have a thick book before 
 you get through." 
 
 " I beg pardon," puts in Mr. Hubbard, 
 leanin' forward int 'rested, " but may I ask the 
 nature of the book 1 ? " 
 
 " It it's to be about our foreign-born citi- 
 zens," says Eggy. 
 
 " Ah, I see! " says J. Q. " Pointing out the 
 evils of unrestricted immigration, I presume? ' 
 
 " Well er not exactly," says Eggy. 
 
 " Then I should advise you to make it so," 
 says Mr. Hubbard. " In fact, if the subject 
 were well handled, and the case put strongly 
 enough to meet my views, I think I could assure 
 its immediate publication." 
 
 " Oh, would you? ' says Eggleston, real 
 eager. " But but what are your views as to 
 our treatment of aliens? " 
 
 " My programme is quite simple," says Mr. 
 Hubbard. " I would stop all immigration at 
 once, absolutely. Then I would deport all per- 
 sons of foreign birth who had not become citi- 
 zens." 
 
 Eggy gasped. " But but that would be un- 
 just! ' says he. " Why, it would be mon- 
 strous ! Surely, you are not in earnest ? ' '
 
 208 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 Mr. Hubbard's eyelids narrow, his jaw stif- 
 fens, and he emphasizes each word by tappin' 
 his knee. "I'd like to see it done to-morrow," 
 says he. " Check this flood of immigration, 
 and you solve half of our economic and indus- 
 trial problems. Too long we have allowed 
 this country to be a general dumping ground 
 for the scum of Europe. Everyone admits 
 that." 
 
 " If you please," says Eggy, runnin' his 
 fingers through his beard nervous, " I could 
 not agree to that. On the contrary, my theory 
 is that we owe a great deal of our progress and 
 our success to the foreign born." 
 
 " Oh, indeed! " remarks Mr. Hubbard, cold 
 and sharp. " And you mean to try to prove 
 that in your book? " 
 
 11 Something like that," admits Eggy. 
 
 " Then, Sir," goes on J. Q., " I must tell you 
 that I consider you a most mischievous, if not 
 dangerous person, and I feel it my duty to dis- 
 courage such misdirected enterprise. Aren't 
 you an instructor in economics under Professor 
 Hartnett? " ^ 
 
 Eggy pleads guilty. 
 
 " I thought I recognized the name," says 
 J. Q. " Well, Mr. Ham, I am Joshua Q. Hub- 
 bard, and, as you may know, I happen to be one 
 of the governing board of that college; so I 
 warn you now, if you insist on publishing such 
 a book as you have suggested, you may expect 
 consequences."
 
 A FOLLOW THROUGH BY EGGY 209 
 
 For a minute that seems to stun Eggleston. 
 He stares at Mr. Hubbard, blinkin' his eyes 
 rapid and swallowin' hard. Then he appears 
 to recover. " But but are you not somewhat 
 prejudiced? " says he. "I think I could show 
 you, Sir, that these poor aliens >: 
 
 " Mr. Ham," says J. Q. decided, " I know 
 exactly what I am talking about ; not from hear- 
 say, but from actual experience. Hundreds of 
 thousands of dollars these wretched foreigners 
 have cost me within the last few years. Why, 
 that last big strike cut dividends almost in 
 half! And who causes all the strikes, is at the 
 bottom of all labor disturbances? The foreign 
 element. If I had my way, I'd call out the 
 regular army and drive every last one of them 
 into the sea." 
 
 You'd most thought that would have 
 squelched Eggy. I was lookin' for him to back 
 through the door on his hands and knees. But 
 all he does is stand there lookin' J. Q. Hubbard 
 square in the eye and smilin' quiet. 
 
 " Yes, I've heard sentiments like that be- 
 fore," says he. ''I presume, Mr. Hubbard, 
 that you know many of your mill operatives 
 personally? ' 
 
 " No," says J. Q., " and I have no desire to. 
 I haven't been inside one of our mills in fifteen 
 years." 
 
 " I see," says Eggy. " You keep in touch 
 with your employees through er your bank- 
 book? But is it fair to judge them as men and
 
 210 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 women wholly on their ability to produce divi- 
 dends for you? ' 
 
 "As an employer of labor, what other test 
 would you have me apply? " says J. Q. 
 
 " Then you are classing them with ma- 
 chines," says Eggy. 
 
 " No," says Mr. Hubbard. " I can depend 
 upon my looms not to go on strike." 
 
 " But you own your looms," says Eggleston. 
 " Your loom tenders are human beings." 
 
 " When they mob strike breakers they be- 
 have more like wild animals, and then you've 
 got to treat 'em as such," raps back J. Q. 
 
 ' ' Are you quite certain that the standards of 
 humanity you set up are just? " asks Eggy. 
 " You know people are beginning to question 
 your absolute right to fix arbitrarily the hours 
 and wages and conditions of labor. They are 
 suggesting that your mills produce tubercu- 
 losis as well as cloth. They are showing that, 
 in your eagerness for dividends, you work 
 women and children too long, and that you 
 don't pay them a living wage." 
 
 " Eot! " snorts J. Q. " These are all the 
 mushy theories of sentimentalists. What else 
 are these foreigners good for? ' 
 
 1 1 Ah, there you get to it ! " says Eggy. 
 " Aren't they too valuable to be ground up in 
 your dusty mills? Can they not be made into 
 useful citizens? " 
 
 " No, they can't," snaps Mr. Hubbard. 
 " It's been tried too often. Look at the results.
 
 A FOLLOW THROUGH BY EGGY 211 
 
 Who fill our jails? Foreigners! Who swarm 
 in our filthy city slums ? Foreigners ! They are 
 the curse of this country. Look at the wretched 
 mob you have brought about your heels to-day, 
 those outside there. There's a sample." 
 
 " If you only would look and understand! " 
 says Eggleston. " Won't you now? It will 
 take only a little of your time, and I'll promise 
 to keep them in order. Oh, if you'd only let 
 me! " 
 
 " Let you what? " demands J. Q., starin' 
 puzzled. 
 
 " Introduce a few of them to you properly," 
 says Eggy; " only four or five. Come, a hand- 
 ful of simple-minded peasants can't hurt you. 
 They're poor, and ignorant, and not especially 
 clean, I'll admit; but I'll keep them at a proper 
 distance. You see, I want to show you some- 
 thing about them. Of course, you're afraid 
 you'll lose your cherished prejudices " 
 
 11 I'm afraid of nothing of the sort," breaks 
 in Mr. Hubbard. " Go on. Have 'em up, if 
 McCabe is willing." 
 
 " Eh? " says I. " Bring that mob up here? " 
 
 " Just a few," pleads Eggy, " and for ten 
 minutes only." 
 
 " It might be sport," suggests Pinckney. 
 
 "I'll take a chance," says I. " We can dis- 
 infect afterwards." 
 
 Eggy dashes off, and after a lively jabberin' 
 below comes back with his selected specimens. 
 Not a one looks as though he'd been over
 
 212 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 more'n a year, and some are still wearin' the 
 outlandish rigs they landed in. Then Eggy 
 begins introducin' 'em. And, say, you'd 
 hardly know him for the same bashful, wispy 
 party that Swifty had dragged in a little while 
 before. Honest, as he warms to it, he sort of 
 swells up and straightens, he squares his shoul- 
 ders, his voice rings out confident, and his eyes 
 behind the thick glasses are all aglow. 
 
 "We will dispense with names," says he; 
 " but here is a native of Sicily. He is about 
 thirty-five years old, and he worked in the salt 
 mines for something like twelve cents a day 
 from the time he was ten until he came over 
 here under contract to a padrone a few months 
 ago. So you see his possibilities for mental 
 development have been limited. But his 
 muscles have been put to use in helping dig a 
 new subway for us. We hope, however, that in 
 the future his latent talents may be brought out. 
 That being the case, he is possibly the grand- 
 father of the man who in 1965 will write for us 
 an American opera better than anything ever 
 produced by Verdi. Why not? ' 
 
 We gawps at the grandfather of the musical 
 genius of 1965 and grins. He's a short, 
 squatty, low-browed party with gold rings in 
 his ears and a smallpox-pitted face. He gazes 
 doubtful at Eggleston durin' the talk, and at 
 the finish grins back at us. Likely he thought 
 Eggy'd been makin' a comic speech. 
 
 " An ingenious prophecy," says Mr. Hub-
 
 A FOLLOW THROUGH BY EGGY 213 
 
 bard; " but unfortunately all Italians are not 
 Verdis." 
 
 " Few have the chance to be," says Eggy. 
 * ' That is what America should mean to them, 
 opportunity. We shall benefit by giving it to 
 them too. Look at our famous bands: at least 
 one-third Italians. Why, nine-tenths of the 
 music that delights us is made for us by the 
 foreign born! Would you drive all those into 
 the sea? " 
 
 " Absurd! " says Mr. Hubbard. " I referred 
 only to the lower classes, of course. But let's 
 get on. What next? " 
 
 Eggy looks over the line, picks out a square- 
 jawed, bull-headed, pie-faced Yon Yonson, with 
 stupid, stary, skim-milk eyes, and leads him to 
 the front. " A direct descendant of the old 
 Vikings," says he, " a fellow countryman of 
 the heroic Stefansson, of Amundsen. Just now 
 he works as a longshoreman. But give him a 
 fair chance, and his son's son will turn out to 
 be the first Admiral of the Federal Fleet of 
 Commerce that is to be, a fleet of swift gov- 
 ernment freighters that shall knit closely to- 
 gether our ports with all the ports of the Seven 
 Seas. Gentlemen, I present to you the an- 
 cestor of an Admiral! " 
 
 Pinckney chuckles and nudges Mr. Hubbard. 
 Yonson bats his stupid eyes once or twice, and 
 lets himself be pushed back. 
 
 " Go on," says J. Q., scowlin'. " I suppose 
 you'll produce next the grandfather of a genius
 
 214 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 who will head the National Pie Bureau of the 
 next century? " 
 
 " Not precisely," says Eggy, beckonin' up a 
 black-haired, brown-eyed Polish Jewess. " A 
 potential grandmother this time. She helps an 
 aunt who conducts a little kosher delicatessen 
 shop in a Hester-st. basement. Her grand- 
 daughter is to organize the movement for com- 
 munal dietetics, by means of which our chil- 
 dren's children are all to be fed on properly 
 cooked food, scientifically prepared, nd de- 
 livered hot at a nominal price. She will banish 
 dyspepsia from the land, make obsolete the 
 household drudge, and eliminate the antique 
 kitchen from twenty million homes. Perhaps 
 they will put up a statue in her memory. ' ' 
 
 " Humph! " snorts Mr. Hubbard. " Is that 
 one of H. G. Wells' silly dreams'? " 
 
 " You flatter me," says Eggy; " but you give 
 me courage to venture still further. Now we 
 come to the Slav." He calls up a thin, peak- 
 nosed, wild-eyed gink who's wearin' a greasy 
 waiter's coat and a coffee-stained white shirt. 
 " From a forty-cent table d'hote restaurant," 
 goes on Eggleston. " An alert, quick-moving, 
 deft-handed person valuable qualities, you will 
 admit. Develop those in his grandson, give him 
 the training of a National Academy of Technical 
 Arts, bring out the repressed courage and self- 
 confidence, and you will produce well, let us 
 say, the Chief Pilot of the Aero Transportation 
 Department, the man to whom Congress will
 
 A FOLLOW THROUGH BY EGGY 215 
 
 vote an honorary pension for winning the first 
 "Washington-to-Buenos Ayres race in a three- 
 hundred-foot Lippmann Stabilized quadro- 
 plane, carrying fifty passengers and two tons of 
 mail and baggage. ' ' 
 
 Mr. Hubbard gazes squint-eyed at the waiter 
 and sniffs. 
 
 " Come, now, who knows? " insists Eggy. 
 " These humble people whom you so despise 
 need only an opportunity. Can we afford to 
 shut them out? Don't we need them as much 
 as they need us? " 
 
 " Mr. Ham," says J. Q., shuttin' his jaws 
 grim, " my motto is, * America for Ameri- 
 cans! ' ' 
 
 " And mine," says Eggy, facin' him defiant, 
 "is * Americans for America ! ' " 
 
 " You're a scatterbrained visionary! " snaps 
 J. Q. " You and your potential grandfather 
 rubbish! What about the grandsons of good 
 Americans? Do you* not reckon them in at all 
 in your " 
 
 " Whe-e-e-e ! Whoop ! " comes from the hall, 
 the front office door is kicked open joyous, and 
 in comes a tall, light-haired, blue-eyed young 
 gent, with his face well pinked up and his hat 
 on the back of his head. He's arm in arm with 
 a shrimpy, Frenchy lookin' party wearin' a 
 silk lid and a frock coat. They pushes unsteady 
 through Eggy's illustrious ancestor bunch and 
 comes to parade rest in the center of the stage. 
 
 " Winthrop! " gasps Mr. Hubbard.
 
 216 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 4 i 
 
 Eh? " gasps the young gent, starin' round 
 uncertain until he locates J. Q. Then he makes 
 a stab at straightenin' up. " 'S a' right, Gov- 
 ernor," he goes on, " 's a' right. Been givin' 
 lil' lu-luncheon to for'n rep'sen'tives. Put 'em 
 all out but An-Andorvski, and he's nothing but 
 a fish deuced Russian fish. Eh, Droski? ' 
 
 Believe me, with J. Q. Hubbard turnin' pur- 
 ple in the gills, and all them cheap foreigners 
 lookin' on bug-eyed, it wa'n't any humorous 
 scene. With the help of the waiter and the 
 longshoreman they loads Winthrop and his 
 friend into a taxi, and Pinckney starts with 
 'em for the nearest Turkish bath. The grand- 
 father debate is adjourned for good. 
 
 I was talkin' it over with Swifty Joe, who, 
 havin' been born in County Kerry and brought 
 up in South Brooklyn, is sore on foreigners of 
 all kinds. Course, he sides hearty with Mr. 
 Hubbard. 
 
 ' ' Ahr-r-r-chee ! " says he. "That Ham- 
 and boob, stickin' up for the Waps and Guineas, 
 he he's a nut, a last year's nut! " 
 
 " Hardly that, Swifty," says I. " A next 
 year's nut, I should say."
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 CATCHING UP WITH GERALD 
 
 " IT seemed so absurdly simple at first too,'* 
 says J. Bayard Steele, tappin' one of his pearl- 
 gray spats with his walkin ' stick. * * But now 
 well, the more I see of this Gerald Webb, the 
 less I understand." 
 
 " Then you're comin' on," says I. " In time 
 you'll get wise to the fact that everybody's that 
 way, n6 two alike and every last one of us 
 neither all this nor all that, but constructed 
 complicated, with a surprise package done up 
 in each one." 
 
 * ' Ah I Some of your homespun philosophy, 
 eh? " says J. Bayard. " Interesting perhaps,, 
 but inaccurate quite ! The fellow is not at all 
 difficult to read: it's what we ought to do for 
 him that is puzzling. ' ' 
 
 Which gives you a line, I expect, on this little 
 debate of ours. Yep ! Gerald is No. 8 on Pyra- 
 mid Gordon's list. He'd been a private secre- 
 tary for Mr. Gordon at one time or another; 
 but he'd been handed his passports kind of 
 abrupt one mornin', and had been set adrift in 
 a cold world without warnin'. 
 
 " In fact," goes on S^eele, " I am told that 
 
 217
 
 218 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 Gordon actually kicked him out of his office ; in 
 rather a public manner too." 
 
 " Huh! " says I. "I expect he deserved it, 
 then." 
 
 " Not at all," says Steele. " I've looked that 
 point up. It was over a letter which Gordon 
 himself had dictated to Webb not forty-eight 
 hours before ; you know, one of his hot-headed, 
 arrogant, go-to-blazes retorts, during the thick 
 of a fight. But this happened to be in reply to 
 an ultimatum from the Eeamur-Brooks Syndi- 
 cate, and by next morning he 'd discovered that 
 he was in no position to talk that way to them. 
 Well, as you know, Pyramid Gordon wasn't 
 the man to eat his own words." 
 
 " No," says I, " that wa'n't his fav'rite diet. 
 So he made Gerald the goat, eh? ' 
 
 " Precisely! " says Steele. " Called him in 
 before the indignant delegation, headed by old 
 Eeamur himself, and demanded of poor Webb 
 what he meant by sending out such a letter. 
 The youngster was so flustered that he could 
 only stammer a confused denial. He started 
 sniveling. Then Gordon collared him and 
 booted him into the corridor. That should have 
 closed the incident, but a few moments later 
 back comes Webb, blubbering like a whipped 
 schoolboy, and perfectly wild with rage. He 
 was armed with a mop that he'd snatched from 
 an astonished scrubwoman, and he stormed in 
 whimpering that he was going to kill Gordon. 
 Absurd, of course. A mop isn't a deadly
 
 CATCHING UP WITH GERALD 219 
 
 weapon. Some of the clerks promptly rushed 
 in and held Webb until an officer could be called. 
 Then Pyramid laughed it off and refused to 
 prosecute. But the story got into the papers, 
 you may remember ; and while more or less fun 
 was poked at Gordon, young Webb came in for 
 a good share. And naturally his career as 
 a private secretary ended right there. ' ' 
 
 " Yes," says I. " If I was takin' on a secre- 
 tary myself, I wouldn't pick one that was sub- 
 ject to fits of mop wieldin'. What happened to 
 him after that? How low did he fall? " 
 
 J. Bayard tosses over a fancy business card 
 printed in three colors and carryin' this in- 
 scription in old English letterin': 
 
 AT THE SIGN OF THE BRASS CANDLESTICK 
 
 Tea Room and Gift Shop 
 Mr. Gerald Webb, Manager. 
 
 " Oh, well," says I, " that ain't so bad. 
 Must have run across a backer somewhere." 
 
 " His sisters," says Steele. " He has five, 
 and some of the four married ones are quite 
 well to do. Then there is Evelyn, the old maid 
 sister, who went in with him. It's from her 
 I've found out so much about Gerald. Nice, 
 refined, pleasant old maid; although somewhat 
 plain featured. She tells me they have a shop 
 at some seashore resort in summer, Atlantic 
 City, or the Pier, and occasionally have quite 
 a successful season. Then in the fall they open 
 up again here. The last two summers, though,
 
 they've barely made expenses, and she fears 
 that Gerald is becoming discouraged." 
 
 " Well, what you beefin' about? " says I. 
 " There's your chance, ain't it? Jump in and 
 cheer him up. Go round every day and drink 
 yourself full of tea. Lug along your friends 
 anything. Got the whole Gordon estate back 
 of you, you know. And it's plain Pyramid had 
 in mind squarin' accounts for that raw deal 
 he handed Gerald years back, or he wouldn't 
 have named him in the will. And if your dope 
 is right, I judge there ought to be something 
 nice comin' to him." 
 
 " Of course, of course," says Steele. " But 
 you see, McCabe, as an expert in altruism, I 
 have reached the point where I no longer act 
 hastily on crude conclusions. Possibly you will 
 fail to understand, but now I take a certain 
 pride in doing just the right thing in exactly 
 the right way. ' ' 
 
 " I knew you was developin' into some va- 
 riety of nut," says I. ''So that's it, eh? Well, 
 go on." 
 
 J. Bayard smiles indulgent and shrugs his 
 shoulders. " For instance," says he, " this 
 Gerald Webb seems to be one of those highly 
 sensitive, delicately organized persons; some- 
 what effeminate in fact. He needs considerate, 
 judicious handling." 
 
 " Then why not present him with an inlaid 
 dressin' table and a set of eyebrow pencils? " I 
 suggest.
 
 CATCHING UP WITH GEKALD 221 
 
 Steele brushes that little persiflage aside too. 
 " He's no doubt an idealist of some sort," says 
 he, " a man with high hopes, ambitions. If I 
 only knew what they were " 
 
 " Ain't tried askin' him, have you? " says L 
 
 " Certainly not! " says J. Bayard. " Those 
 are things which such persons can rarely be in- 
 duced to talk about. I've been studying him at 
 close range, however, by dropping in now and 
 then for a cup of tea and incidentally a chat 
 with his sister; but to no effect. I can't seem 
 to make him out. And I was wondering, 
 Shorty, if you, in your rough and ready 
 way " 
 
 "P.O.F.! "I breaks in. 
 
 " What? " says Steele. 
 
 " Please omit floral tributes," says I. " You 
 was wonderin' if I couldn't what size him up 
 for you? " 
 
 " Just that," says J. Bayard. " While your 
 methods are not always of the subtlest, I must 
 concede that at times your er native intui- 
 tion " 
 
 " Top floor all out! " I breaks in. " You 
 mean I can do a quick frame-up without feelin' 
 the party's bumps or consultin' the cards? 
 Maybe I can. But I ain't strong for moochin' 
 around these oolong joints among the draped 
 tunics and vanity boxes." 
 
 He's a persistent party, though, J. Bayard 
 is, and after he's guaranteed that we won't run 
 into any mob of shoppers this late in the day,
 
 222 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 and urged me real hard, I consents to trail 
 along with him and pass on Gerald. 
 
 One of the usual teashop joints, the Brass 
 Candlestick is, tucked away in a dwelling house 
 basement on a side street about half a block 
 east of Fifth avenue, with a freaky sign over 
 the door and a pair of moultin' bay trees at the" 
 entrance. Inside we finds a collection of little 
 white tables with chairs to match, a showcase 
 full of arty jew'lry, and some shelves loaded 
 with a job lot of odd-shaped vases and jugs and 
 teapots and such truck. 
 
 A tall, loppy female with mustard-colored 
 hair and haughty manners tows us to a place 
 in a dark corner and shoves a menu at us. You 
 know the tearoom brand of waitress maybe, 
 and how distant they can be? But this one 
 fairly sneers at us as she takes our order; al- 
 though I kind of shrivels up in the chair and 
 acts as humble as I know how. 
 
 11 That ain't Sister Evelyn, is it? " says I, 
 as she disappears towards the back. 
 
 " No, no," says Steele. " Miss Webb is at 
 the little cashier 's desk, by the door. And that 
 is Webb, behind the counter, talking to those 
 ladies." 
 
 " Oh! " says I. " Him with the pale hair 
 and the narrow mouth? Huh! He is Lizzie- 
 like, ain't he? " 
 
 He's a slim, thin-blooded, sharp-faced gent, 
 well along in the thirties, I should judge, with 
 gray showin' in his forelock, and a dear little
 
 CATCHING UP WITH GERALD 223 
 
 mustache pointed at the ends; the sort of 
 chappy who wears a braid-bound cutaway and a 
 wrist watch, you know. He's temptin' his cus- 
 tomers with silver-set turquoise necklaces, and 
 abalone cuff links, and moonstone sets, and 
 such; doin' it dainty and airy, and incidentally 
 displayin' a job of manicurin' that's the last 
 word in fingernail decoration. Such smooth, 
 highbrow conversation goes with it too! 
 
 " Oh, yes, Madam," I overhears him gurgle. 
 " Quite so, I assuah you. We import these 
 direct from Cairo ; genuine scarabs, taken from 
 ancient mummy cases. No, not Eameses ; these 
 are of the Thetos period. Bather rare, you 
 know. And here is an odd trifle, if you will per- 
 mit me. Oh, no trouble at all. Really! When 
 we find persons of such discriminating taste as 
 you undoubtedly have we " 
 
 " Say," I remarks low to Steele, " he's some 
 swell kidder, ain't he? He'll be chuckin' her 
 under the chin next. What a sweet thing he is ! 
 It's a shame to waste all that on a side street 
 too. He ought to be farther up in the shoppin' 
 district and on the avenue." 
 
 " Do you think so! " says J. Bayard. " I've 
 been considering that setting him up in first- 
 class style on a big scale. But of course I 
 should like to be sure that is what he wants 
 most." 
 
 " That's my best guess," says I. " I'll 
 bet he'd eat it up. Spring it on him and 
 see."
 
 224 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 " Perhaps I will when he's through," says J. 
 Bayard. " There! They're going now." 
 
 He was wrong: they was only startin' to go. 
 They had to come back twice and look at some- 
 thing all over again, after which Gerald fol- 
 lows 'em to the door and holds it open for 'em 
 while they exchange a few last words. So it's 
 ten minntes or more before Steele has a chance 
 to call him over, get him planted in the extra 
 chair, and begin breakin' the news to him about 
 Pyramid's batty will. 
 
 And even after all them years Webb flushes 
 pink in the ears at the mention of the name. 
 " Oh, yes, Gordon," says he. " I I did hold 
 a position at one time in his office. Misun- 
 derstanding? Not at all. He treated me 
 shamefully. Rank injustice, it was! He 
 he was by no means a gentleman, by no 
 means! ' 
 
 " I hear you tried to assassinate him with a 
 mop," says I. 
 
 " I I was not quite myself," says Gerald, 
 colorin' still more. " You see, he put me in 
 such a false position before those Chicago men ; 
 and when I tried to tell them the truth he 
 well, he acted brutally. I ask you, Mr. Mc- 
 Cabe, what would you have done! ' 
 
 11 Me? " says I. "I expect I'd slapped him 
 rough on the wrist, or something like that. But 
 you know he was always a little quick about 
 such things, and when it was all over he was 
 gen 'rally sorry if he had time. You see he
 
 CATCHING UP WITH GERALD 225 
 
 remembered your case. Now the idea is, how 
 can that little affair of yours be squared? ' 
 
 " It may have been a little affair to him," 
 says Gerald, poutin' a bit sulky; " but it wasn't 
 so to me. It it changed my whole life ut- 
 terly! " 
 
 " Of course," puts in J. Bayard soothin'. 
 " We understand that, Mr. Webb." 
 
 11 But you've come out all right; you struck 
 something just as good, or better, eh? " and I 
 waves round at the teashop. " Course 1 , you 
 ain't catchin' the business here you might if 
 you was located better. And I expect you feel 
 like you was wastin' your talents on a place 
 this size. But with a whole second floor near 
 some of the big Fifth avenue department stores, 
 where you could soak 'em half a dollar for a 
 club sandwich and a quarter for a cup of tea, 
 a flossy, big joint with a hundred tables, real 
 French waiters from Staten Island, and a genu- 
 ine Hungarian orchestra, imported from East 
 176th street, where you could handle a line of 
 Mexican drawnwork, and Navajo blankets, and 
 Russian samovars, and " 
 
 ' ' No, no ! " breaks in Gerald peevish. 
 " Stop! " 
 
 " Eh? " says I, gawpin' at him. 
 
 11 If you are proposing all that as a a 
 recompense for being publicly humiliated," 
 says he, " and having my career entirely 
 spoiled well, you just needn't, that's all. I do 
 not care for anything of the kind."
 
 226 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 I gasps. Then I gazes foolish over at J. Bay- 
 ard to see if he has anything to offer. He just 
 scowls at me and shakes his head, as much as 
 to say: 
 
 " There, you see! You've messed things all 
 up." 
 
 " All right, Mr. Webb," says I. " Then you 
 name it." 
 
 " Do you mean," says he, " that Mr. Gordon 
 intended to leave me something in his will ; that 
 he er considered I was entitled to some 
 ah " 
 
 " That's the idea, more or less," says I. 
 " Only Mr. Steele here, he's been tryin' to dope 
 out what would suit you best." 
 
 " Could could it be in the form of a a 
 cash sum? " asks Gerald. 
 
 I sighs relieved and looks inquirin' at Steele. 
 He nods, and I nods back. 
 
 " Sure thing," says I. 
 
 II How much? " demands Webb. 
 
 " Time out," says I, " until Mr. Steele and I 
 can get together." 
 
 So while Gerald is pacin' nervous up and 
 down between the tables we makes figures on 
 the back of the menu. We begins by guessin* 
 what he was gettin' when he was fired, then 
 what salary he might have been pullin' down in 
 five years, at the end of ten, and so on, deductin* 
 some for black times and makin' allowances for 
 hard luck. But inside of five minutes we'd 
 agreed on a lump sum.
 
 CATCHING UP WITH GERALD 227 
 
 " What about twenty thousand? " says I. 
 
 Gerald gulps once or twice, turns a little pale, 
 and then asks choky, " Would would you put 
 that in writing? " 
 
 " I can give you a voucher for the whole 
 amount," says Steele. 
 
 " Then then please! " says Gerald, and he 
 stands over J. Bayard, starin' eager, while the 
 paper is bein' made out. He watches us both 
 sign our names. 
 
 " This is drawn," says Steele, " on the at- 
 torney for the estate, and when you present it 
 he will give you a check for " 
 
 " Thanks," says Gerald, reachin' trembly 
 for the voucher. 
 
 For a minute he stands gazin' at it before he 
 stows it away careful in an inside vest pocket. 
 Then all of a sudden he seems to straighten up. 
 He squares his shoulders and stiffens his jaw. 
 
 " Evelyn! " he sings out. " Ho, Evelyn! " 
 
 It ain't any smooth, ladylike tone he uses, 
 either. A couple of stout female parties, that's 
 been toyin' with lobster Newburg patties and 
 chocolate eclairs and gooseberry tarts, stops 
 their gossipin' and glares round at him indig- 
 nant. 
 
 " Evelyn, I say! " he goes on, fairly roarin* 
 it out. 
 
 \ 
 
 At that out comes Sister from behind her 
 little coop lookin' panicky. Also in from the 
 kitchen piles the haughty waitress with the 
 mustard-tinted hair, and a dumpy, frowzy one
 
 that I hadn't noticed before. The haughty one 
 glares at Gerald scornful, almost as if he'd been 
 a customer. 
 
 " Why why, Brother dear! " begins Eve- 
 lyn, still holdin' open the novel she'd been 
 readin'. " What is the matter? " 
 
 "I'm through, that's all," he announces 
 crisp. 
 
 " You you are what? " asks his sister. 
 
 "Through," says Gerald loud and snappy. 
 "I'm going to quit all this now, too. I'm go- 
 ing to close up, going out of the business. Un- 
 derstand? So get those women out of here at 
 once." 
 
 " But but, Gerald," gasps Evelyn, " they 
 you see they are " 
 
 " I don't care whether they've finished or 
 not," says he. " It doesn't matter. They 
 needn't pay. But clear 'em out. Eight 
 away! " 
 
 She had big dark eyes, Sister Evelyn. She 
 was thinner than Gerald, and a few years older, 
 I should guess. Anyway, her hair showed more 
 gray streaks. She had a soft, easy voice and 
 gentle ways. She didn't faint, or throw any 
 emotional fit. She just looks at Gerald mildly 
 reproachful and remarks: 
 
 " Very well, Brother dear," and then glides 
 down the aisle to the two heavy-weight food 
 destroyers. 
 
 We couldn't hear just what she told 'em, but 
 it must have been convincin'. They gathers up
 
 CATCHING UP WITH GERALD 229 
 
 their wraps and shoppin' bags and sails out, 
 sputterin' peevish. 
 
 " Here, Celia! " commands Gerald, turnin' 
 to the waitresses. " You and Bertha pull down 
 those front shades tight, mind you! Then 
 turn on the dome and side lights all of 'em." 
 
 We sat watchin' the proceedin's, Steele and 
 me, with our mouths open, not knowin' whether 
 to go or stay. Evelyn stands starin' at him too. 
 In a minute, though, he whirls on her. 
 
 " You needn't think I've gone crazy, Eve- 
 lyn," he says. " I was never more sane. But 
 something has happened. I've just had a 
 windfall. You'd never guess. From old Gor- 
 don; you remember, the beast who " 
 
 " Yes, I know," says Evelyn. " Mr. Steele 
 has been talking to me about it." 
 
 " Has, eh? " says Gerald. " Well, I trust it 
 wasn't you who gave him that idea about keep- 
 ing me in this fool business for the rest of my 
 life. Ugh ! Talking sappy to an endless stream 
 of silly women, palming off on them such use- 
 less junk as this! Look at it! Egyptian 
 scarabs, made in Connecticut; Ceylonese coral, 
 from North Attleboro, Mass.; Bohemian glass- 
 ware, from Sandsburg, Pa.; Indian baskets 
 woven by the Papago tribe, meaning Ruther- 
 ford, N. J. Bah! For nearly twelve years 
 I've been doing this. And you're to blame for 
 it, you and Irene and Georgianna. You got me 
 into it when I could find nothing else to do, and 
 then somehow I couldn't seem to get out. Ly-
 
 230 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 ing and smirking and dickering day after day 
 sickening! But I'm through. And just as a 
 relief to my feelings I'm going to finish off a 
 lot of this rubbish before I go. Watch ! " 
 
 With that he picks a teapot from our table, 
 balances it careful in one hand, and sends it 
 bang at a shelf full of blue and yellow pitchers. 
 
 Crash! Smash! Tinkle-tinkle! 
 
 It was a good shot. He got three or four of 
 'em at one clip. 
 
 Next he reaches for the sugar bowl and 
 chucks that. More crash. More tinkle-tinkle. 
 This time it was sort of a side-wipin' blow, and 
 a full half-dozen fancy cream jugs bit the dust. 
 
 "Good eye!" says I, chucklin'. Even J. 
 Bayard has to grin. 
 
 As for Sister Evelyn, she says never a word, 
 but braces herself against a table and grips her 
 hands together, like she was preparin' to have 
 a tooth out. The dumpy waitress clutches the 
 haughty one around the waist and breathes 
 wheezy. 
 
 " Vases! " says Gerald, scowlin' at a shelf. 
 11 Silly vases! " 
 
 And with that he ups with a chair, swings it 
 over his shoulder, and mows down a whole row 
 of 'em. They goes crashin' onto the floor. 
 
 " Muh Gord! " gasps the dumpy tea juggler. 
 
 " Clean alley! Set 'em up on the other! " I 
 sings out. 
 
 But Gerald is too busy to notice side remarks. 
 His thin face is flushed and his eyes sparkle.
 
 CATCHING UP WITH GEEALD 231 
 
 Peelin' off the cutaway, he tosses it careless on 
 a table. 
 
 " Look out for splinters! " says he as he 
 heaves a chair into the showcase among the fake 
 jew'lry, and with another proceeds to make 
 vicious swipes at whatever 's left on the shelves. 
 
 As a tearoom wrecker he was some artist, 
 believe me ! Not a blessed thing that could be 
 smashed did he miss, and what he couldn't 
 break he bent or dented. 
 
 " Ain't he just grand!" observes Celia to 
 her dumpy friend. " My ! I didn't think it was 
 in him." 
 
 It was, though. A village fire department 
 couldn't have done a neater job, or been more 
 thorough. He even tosses down a lot of work 
 baskets and jumps on 'em and kicks 'em about. 
 
 " There! " says he, after a lively session, 
 when the place looks like it had been through a 
 German siege. " Now it's all genuine junk, I 
 guess." 
 
 Sister Evelyn gazes at him placid. " No 
 doubt about that," she remarks. " And I hope 
 you feel better, Brother dear. Perhaps you 
 will tell me, though, what is to become of me 
 now. ' ' 
 
 " I am going to leave some money for you," 
 says he. " If you're silly enough, you can buy 
 a lot more of this stuff and keep on. If you 
 have any sense, you'll quit and go live with 
 Irene. ' ' 
 
 " And you, Gerald? " asks Evelyn.
 
 232 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 " I'm off," says he. "I'm going to do some 
 real work, man's work. You saw that dark- 
 looking chap who was in here a few days ago? 
 That was Bentley, who used to be bank mes- 
 senger in old Gordon's office. He was dis- 
 charged without cause too. But he had no five 
 sisters to make a sappy tearoom manager out 
 of him. He went to the Argentine. Owns a 
 big cattle ranch down there. Wants me to go 
 in with him and buy the adjoining ranch. He 
 sails day after to-morrow. I'm going with 
 him, to live a wild, rough life; and the wilder 
 and rougher it is the better I shall like it." 
 
 " Oh! " says Sister Evelyn, liftin' her eye- 
 brows sarcastic. " Will you? ' 
 
 Well, that's just what J. Bayard and I have 
 been askin' each other ever since. Anyway, 
 he's gone. Showed up here in the studio the 
 last thing, wearin' a wide-brimmed felt hat 
 with a leather band and if that don't signify 
 somethin' wild and rough, I don't know what 
 does. 
 
 " Rather an impetuous nature, Gerald's," 
 observes Steele. " I hope it doesn't get him 
 into trouble -down there. ' ' 
 
 "Who knows?" says I. "Next thing we 
 may be hearin' how he's tried to stab some 
 Spaniard with a whisk broom. ' '
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 SHOETY HEARS FROM PEMAQUID 
 
 IT was mostly my fault. I'd left the Physical 
 Culture Studio and was swingin' east across 
 42d-st. absentminded, when I takes a sudden 
 notion to have lunch at my favorite chophouse 
 joint on Broadway, and it was the quick turn I 
 made that causes the collision. 
 
 I must have hit him kind of solid too ; for his 
 steel-rimmed glasses are jarred off, and before 
 I can pick 'em up they've been stepped on. 
 
 " Sorry, old scout," says I. " Didn't know 
 you'd dodged in behind. And it's my buy on 
 the eyeglasses." 
 
 " Sho! " says he. " No great harm done, 
 young man. But them specs did cost me a 
 quarter in Portland, and if you feel like 
 you " 
 
 " Sure thing! " says I. " Here's a half 
 get a good pair this time." 
 
 " No, Son," says he, "a quarter's all they 
 cost, and Jim Isham never takes more'n his due. 
 Just wait till I git out the change." 
 
 So I stands there lookin' him over while he 
 unwraps about four yards of fishline from 
 around the neck of a leather money pouch. Odd 
 
 233
 
 234 SHOETY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 old Rube he was, straight and lean, and smoked 
 up like a dried herring. 
 
 " There you be, ? ' says he, countin' out two 
 tens and a five. 
 
 Course, I'd felt better if he'd kept the half. 
 The kale pouch wa'n't so heavy, and from the 
 seedy blue suit and the faded old cap I judged 
 he could use that extra quarter. But somehow 
 I couldn't insist. 
 
 " All right, Cap," says I. " Next time I 
 turn sudden I'll stick my hand out." I was 
 movin' off when I notices him still standin' sort 
 of hesitatin'. " Well? "ladds. " Can I help? " 
 
 " You don't happen to know," says he, " of 
 a good eatin' house where it don't cost too all- 
 fired much to git a square meal, do youf ' 
 
 * * Why, ' ' says I, " I- expect over on Eighth- 
 
 ave., you could " And then I gets this rash 
 
 notion of squarin' the account by blowin' him 
 to a real feed. Course, I might be sorry; but 
 he looks so sort of lonesome and helpless that 
 I decides on takin' a chance. " Say, you come 
 with me," says I, " and lemme stack you up 
 against the real thing in Canadian mutton 
 chops. ' ' 
 
 " If it don't cost over twenty-five cents," 
 says he. 
 
 " It won't," says I, smotherin' a grin. He 
 wa'n't a grafter, anyway, and the only way I 
 could ease his mind on the expense question was 
 to let him hand me a quarter before we went 
 in, and make him think that covered his share.
 
 SHORTY HEARS FROM PEMAQUID 235 
 
 Max, the head waiter, winks humorous as he 
 sees who I'm towin' in; but he gives us a 
 table by a Broadway window and surprises the 
 old boy by pullin' out his chair respectful. 
 
 " Much obliged, Mister," says Jim Isham. 
 " Much obliged." 
 
 With that he hangs his old cap cdreful on the 
 candle shade. It's one of these oldtime blizzard 
 headpieces, with sides that you can turn down 
 over your ears and neck. Must have worn that 
 some constant; for from the bushy eyebrows 
 up he's as white as a piece of chalk, and with 
 the rest of his face so coppery it gives him an 
 odd, skewbald look. 
 
 I expected a place like Collins 's, with all its- 
 pictures and rugs and fancy silverware, would 
 surprise him some; but he don't seem at all 
 fussed. He tucks his napkin under his chin 
 natural and gazes around int 'rested. He 
 glances suspicious at a wine cooler that's carted' 
 by, and when the two gents at the next table are 
 served with tall glasses of ale he looks around 
 as if he was locatin' an exit. Next he digs into 
 an inside pocket, hauls out a paper, spreads it 
 on the table, and remarks : 
 
 " Let's see, Mister jest about where are we 
 now? " 
 
 I gives him the cross street and the Broad- 
 way number, and he begins tracin' eager with 
 his finger. Fin'lly he says: 
 
 " All correct. Right in the best of the 
 water."
 
 236 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 " Eh? " says I. " What's that you've got 
 there? " 
 
 " Sailin' directions," says he, smilin' apolo- 
 getic. " You mustn't mind; but for a minute 
 there, seein' all the liquor bein' passed around, 
 I didn't know but what I'd got among the rocks 
 and shoals. But it's all right. Full ten fathom, 
 and plenty of sea room. ' ' 
 
 " Too tarry for me," says I. " Meanin' 
 what, now? " 
 
 He chuckles easy. " Why, it's this way," 
 says he: " You see, before I starts from home 
 I talks it over with Cap'n Bill Logan. ' Jim,' 
 says he, * if you're goin' to cruise around New 
 York you need a chart.' ' Guess you're right, 
 Cap'n Bill,' says I. ' Fix me up one, won't 
 ye? ' And that's what he done. You see, 
 Cap'n Bill knows New York like a book. Used 
 to sail down here with ice from the Kennebec, 
 and sometimes, while he was dischargin' cargo, 
 he'd lay in here for a week at a time. Great 
 hand to knock around too, Cap'n Bill is, and 
 mighty observin'." 
 
 " So he made a map for you, did he? " says I. 
 
 " Not exactly," says Mr. Isham. " Found 
 one in an old guide book and fixed it up like a 
 chart, markin' off the reefs and shoals in red 
 ink, and the main channels in black fathom 
 figures. Now here's Front and South-sts., very 
 shoal, dangerous passin' at any tide. There's 
 a channel up the Bowery; but it's crooked and 
 full of buoys and beacons. I ain't tackled that
 
 SHORTY HEARS FROM PEMAQUID 237 
 
 yet. I've stuck to Broadway and Fifth-ave. 
 All clear sailin' there." 
 
 " Think so? " says I. " Let's see that 
 chart I " 
 
 He passes it over willin' enough. And, say, 
 for a sailor's guide to New York, that was a 
 peach! Cap'n Bill Logan's idea seems to have 
 been to indicate all the crooked joints, gamblin' 
 halls, and such with red daggers. Must have 
 been some investigator too; for in spots they 
 was sprinkled thick, with the names written 
 alongside. When I begun readin' some of 'em, 
 though, I snickers. 
 
 " What's this on the Bowery? " says I. 
 " Suicide Hall? " 
 
 ' ' You bet ! ' ' says he. * ' Cap 'n Bill warned 
 me about that special." 
 
 " Did, eh? " says I. " Well, he needn't; for 
 it's been out of business for years. So has 
 Honest John Kelly's, and Theiss's, and Stev- 
 enson's. What vintage is this, anyway! When 
 was it your friend took in the sights last? ' 
 
 " Wall, I guess it's been quite awhile," says 
 Jim Isham, rubbin' his chin. " Let's see, Bill 
 opened the store in '95, and for a couple of 
 years before that he was runnin' the shingle 
 mill. Yes, it must have been nigh twenty years 
 ago. ' ' 
 
 " Back in the days of the Parkhurst 
 crusade," says I. " Yes, I expect all them 
 dives was runnin' full blast once. But there 
 ain't one of 'em left."
 
 " Sho! " says he. " You don't say! Gov'- 
 ment been improvin' the channels, same as they 
 done in Hell Gate? " 
 
 " Something like that," says I. " Only not 
 quite the same ; for when them Hell Gate rocks 
 was blown up that was the end of 'em. But 
 we get a fresh crop of red light joints every 
 season. You tell Cap'n Bill when you get 
 back that his wickedness chart needs revisin'." 
 
 " I'll write him that, b'gum! " says Mr. 
 Isham. " Maybe that's why I couldn't locate 
 this reservoir he said I ought to see, the one I 
 was huntin' for when we fouled. See, it says 
 corner of 42d and Fifth-ave., plain as day; but 
 all I could find was that big white buildin' with 
 the stone lions in front." 
 
 ' l Naturally, ' ' says I ; ' * for they tore the old 
 reservoir down years ago and built the new 
 city lib'ry on the spot. But how was it your 
 friend put in so many warnin's against them 
 old dives? You didn't come on to cultivate a 
 late crop of wild oats, did you? " 
 
 " Nary an oat," says he, shakin' his head 
 solemn. " I ain't much of a churchgoer; but 
 I've always been a moderate, steady-goin' man. 
 It was on account of my havin' this money to 
 invest." 
 
 " Oh! " says I. "Much? " 
 
 " Fifty thousand dollars," says he. 
 
 I glances at him puzzled. Was it a case of 
 loose wirin', or was this old jay tryin' to hand 
 me the end of the twine ball? Just then,
 
 SHORTY HEAES FEOM PEMAQUID 239 
 
 though, along comes Hermann with a couple of 
 three-inch, combination chops and a dish of 
 baked potatoes all broke open and decorated 
 with butter and paprika ; and for the next half- 
 hour Mr. Isham's conversation works are 
 clogged for fair. Not that he's one of these 
 human sausage machines; but he has a good 
 hearty Down East appetite and a habit of at- 
 tendin' strictly to business at mealtime. 
 
 But when he's finished off with a section of 
 deep-dish apple pie and a big cup of coffee he 
 sighs satisfied, unhooks the napkin, lights up a 
 perfecto I've ordered for him, and resumes 
 where he left off. 
 
 "It's a heap of money ain't it? " says he. 
 " I didn't know at first whether or no I 
 ought to take it. That's one thing I come on 
 for." 
 
 " Ye-e-es? " says I, a little sarcastic maybe. 
 " Had to be urged, did you? " 
 
 " Wall," says he, " I wa'n't sure the fam'ly 
 could afford it exactly." 
 
 " It was a gift, then? " says I. 
 
 " Willed to me," says he. " Kind of cu- 
 rious too. Shucks ! when I took them folks off 
 the yacht that time I wa'n't thinkin' of any- 
 thing like this. Course, the young feller did 
 offer me some bills at the time; but he did it 
 like he thought I was expectin' to be paid, and 
 I well, I couldn't take it that way. So I didn't 
 git a cent. I thought the whole thing had been 
 forgotten too, when that letter from the law-
 
 240 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 yers comes say in' how this Mr. Fowler 
 had r" 
 
 " Not Roswell K.f " I breaks in. 
 
 " Yes, that's the man," says he. 
 
 11 Why, I remember now," says I. "It was 
 the yacht his son and his new wife was takin' 
 a honeymoon trip on. And she went on some 
 rocks up on the coast of Maine durin' a storm. 
 The papers was full of it at the time. And how 
 they was all rescued by an old lobsterman who 
 made two trips in a leaky tub of a motorboat 
 out through a howlin' northeaster. And why, 
 say, you don't mean to tell me you're Uncle 
 Jimmy Isham, the hero? " 
 
 * ' Sho ! ' ' says he. ' ' Don 't you begin all that 
 nonsense again. I was pestered enough by the 
 summer folks that next season. You ought to 
 see them schoolma'ams takin' snapshots of me 
 every time I turned around. And gushin'I 
 Why, it was enough to make a dog laugh! 
 Course I ain't no hero." 
 
 " But that must have been some risky stunt 
 of yours, just the same," I insists. 
 
 "Wall," he admits, "it wa'n't just the 
 weather I'd pick to take the old Curlew out 
 in ; but when I see through the glasses what the 
 white thing was that's poundin' around on 
 Razor Back Ledges, and seen the distress sig- 
 nal run up why, I couldn't stay ashore. There 
 was others would have gone, I guess, if I hadn't. 
 But there I was, an old bach, and not much good 
 to anybody anyway, you know."
 
 SHORTY HEARS FROM PEMAQUID 241 
 
 " Come, come! " says I. " Why wa'n't you 
 as good as the next? " 
 
 " I dun 'no," says he, sighin' a little. " Only 
 only you know the kind of a chap that every- 
 body calls Uncle Jimmy? That that's me." 
 
 * ' But you went out and got 'em ! " I goes on. 
 
 " Yes," says he. " It wa'n't so much, 
 though. You know how the papers run on? ' 
 
 I didn't say yes or no to that. I was sittin' 
 there starin' across the table, tryin' to size up 
 this leather-faced old party with the bashful 
 ways and the simple look in his steady eyes. 
 The grizzled mustache curlin' close around his 
 mouth corners, the heavy eyebrows, and the 
 thick head of gray hair somehow reminds me 
 of Mark Twain, as we used to see him a few 
 years back walkin' up Fifth-ave. Only Uncle 
 Jimmy was a little softer around the chin. 
 
 " Let's see," says I, " something like three 
 summers ago, that was, wa'n't it? ' 
 
 " Four," says he, " the eighteenth of Sep- 
 tember." 
 
 " And since then? " says I. 
 
 " Just the same as before," says he. " I've 
 been right at Pemaquid." 
 
 " At what? " say si. 
 
 " Pemaquid," he repeats, leanin' hard on the 
 " quid." " I've been there goin' on forty 
 years, now." 
 
 II Doin' what? " says I. 
 
 " Oh, lobsterin' mostly," says he. " But 
 late years they've been runnin' so scurce that
 
 242 SHOETY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 summers I've been usin' the Curlew as a party 
 boat. Ain't much money in it, though." 
 
 ' ' How much, for instance ! ' ' says I. 
 
 " Wall, this season I cleaned up about one 
 hundred and twenty dollars from the Fourth 
 to Labor Day," says he. " But there was lots 
 of good days when I didn't git any parties at 
 all. You see, I loojs kind of old and shabby. 
 So does the Curlew; and the spruce young fel- 
 lers with the new boats gits the cream of the 
 trade. But it don't take much to keep me." 
 
 1 1 I should say not, ' ' says I, " if you can win- 
 ter on that ! ' ' 
 
 " Oh, I can pick up a few dollars now and 
 then lobsterin' and fishin'," says he. " But 
 it's rough work in the winter time." 
 
 " And then all of a sudden, you say," says I, 
 11 you get fifty thousand." 
 
 " I couldn't believe it at fust," says he. 
 " Neither did Cap'n Bill Logan. He was the 
 only one I showed the letter to. ' Mebbe it's 
 just some fake,' says he, ' gittin' you on there 
 to sign papers. Tell 'em to send twenty dollars 
 for travelin' expenses.' Wall, I did, and what 
 do you think? They sends back two hundred, 
 b'gum! Yes, Sir, Cap'n Bill took the check up 
 to Wiscasset and got the money on it from the 
 bank. Two hundred dollars! Why, say, that 
 would take me putty nigh round the world, I 
 guess. I left part of it with the Cap'n, and 
 made him promise not to tell a soul. You see, I 
 didn't want Cynthy to git wind of it."
 
 SHORTY HEARS FROM PEMAQUID 243 
 " Oh-ho! " says I. " Some relation, is 
 
 "Cynthy? Land, no!" says he. "She's 
 just the Widow Allen, over to the Neck Cyn- 
 thy Hamill that was. I've known her ever since 
 she taught school at Bristol Mills. She's been 
 a widow goin' on twenty years now, and most 
 of that time we've been well, I ain't missed 
 goin' across the bay once or twice a week in 
 all that time. You see, Cynthy not havin' any 
 man, I kind of putter around for her, see that 
 she has plenty of stovewood and kindlin' 
 chopped, and so on. She's real good company, 
 Cynthy is, plays hymns on the organ, knits 
 socks for me, and hanged if she can't make the 
 best fish chowder I ever e't! Course, I know 
 the neighbors laugh some about Cynthy and me ; 
 but they're welcome. Always askin' me when 
 the weddin's comin' off. But sho! They know 
 well enough I never had the money to git mar- 
 ried on." 
 
 " Got enough now, though, ain't you, Uncle 
 Jimmy? " says I, winkin'. 
 
 " Too blamed much," says he. " Cap'n Bill 
 showed me that plain at our last talk. ' Why, 
 you old fool,' says he, l if it turns out true, 
 then you're a mighty rich man, 'most a mil- 
 lionaire! You can't stay on livin' here in your 
 old shack at Pemaquid. You got to have the 
 luxuries and the refinements of life now,' says 
 he, ' and you got to go to the city to git 'em. 
 Boston might do for some; but if it was me I'd
 
 SHOKTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 camp right down in New York at one of them 
 swell hotels, and just enjoy myself to the end 
 of my days.' Wall, here I be, and I'm gittin' 
 used to the luxuries gradual." 
 
 ." How hard have you splurged? " says I. 
 
 " Had two sodas yesterday," says he, " and 
 maybe I'll tackle one of them movin' picture 
 shows to-morrow. I been aimin' to. It'd be all 
 right, wouldn't it? " 
 
 " Yes, I wouldn't call that any wild extrava- 
 gance, with fifty thousand to draw on," says I. 
 " How have you got it? " 
 
 He fishes out an old wallet, unstraps it care- 
 ful, and shoves over a cashier's check. No bluff 
 about it. He had the goods. 
 
 " Said you was goin' to invest it, didn't 
 you? " I suggests cautious. 
 
 " That's what's botherin' me most about this 
 whole business," says Uncle Jimmy. " It's an 
 awful lot of money for an old codger like me to 
 handle. I tried to git young Mr. Fowler to take 
 half of it back; but he only laughs and says he 
 couldn't do that, and guessed how he and the 
 wife was worth* that much, anyway. Besides, I 
 expect he don 't need it. ' ' 
 
 " I should say that was a safe bet," says I. 
 " If I remember right, his share of the estate 
 was ten or twelve millions." 
 
 " Gorry! " says Uncle Jimmy. " No wonder 
 he couldn't tell me what to put it into, either. 
 Maybe you could give me an idea, though." 
 Me? " says I. " Why, you don't know me, 
 
 ( t
 
 SHORTY HEARS FROM PEMAQUID 245 
 
 Uncle Jimmy. You wouldn't want to take 
 a stranger's advice about investin' your 
 money. ' ' 
 
 " Sho! " says he. " Why not? I've asked 
 most everybody I've had a chance to talk with 
 ever since I got here, and most of 'em has been 
 mighty accommodatin '. Why, there was one 
 young man that followed me out of the lawyer's 
 office just to tell me of some gold mine stock 
 he knew about that inside of six months was 
 goin' to be worth ten times what it's sellin' for 
 now. Offered to buy me a controllin' interest 
 too." 
 
 11 You don't mean it! " says I. 
 
 " Yes, Sir. Nice, bright feller that didn't 
 know me from Adam," says Uncle Jimmy. 
 " Took me ridin' in one of these here taxicabs 
 and bought me a bang-up hotel dinner. And if 
 it hadn't been that I knew of a Methodist min- 
 ister once who lost twenty dollars in gold mine 
 stocks, hanged if I wouldn't have invested 
 heavy! But somehow, ever since hearin' of 
 that, I've had an idea gold mines was sort of 
 risky. ' ' 
 
 " Which ain't such a fool hunch, either," 
 says I. 
 
 " Then only this mornin'," goes on Uncle 
 Jimmy enthusiastic, " I runs across a mighty 
 friendly, spruce-dressed pair, big Pittsburgh 
 fi-nanciers, they said they was, who was 
 makin' money hand over fist bettin' on hoss 
 races somewheres."
 
 246 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 1 ' Well, well ! ' ' says I. ' ' Had an operator 
 who'd tapped a poolroom wire and could hold 
 up returns, didn't they? ' 
 
 " That's it! " says Uncle Jimmy. " They 
 explained just how it was done; but I'm a little 
 slow under standin' such things. Anyway, they 
 took me to a place where I saw one of 'em win 
 two thousand inside of ten minutes; and b'gum, 
 if I'd been a bettin' man, I could have made a 
 heap! I did let one of 'em put up fifty cents 
 for me, and he brought back five dollars in no 
 time. They seemed real put out too when I 
 wouldn't take the chance of a lifetime and bet 
 a thousand on the next race. But somehow I 
 couldn't bring myself to it. What would 
 Cynthy think if she knew I was down here in 
 New York, bettin' on hoss races? No, Sir, I 
 couldn't." 
 
 " And you got away with the five, did you! " 
 says I. 
 
 " Don't tell," says Uncle Jimmy, " but I 
 slipped it in an envelope and sent it to that 
 shiftless Hank Tuttle, over at the point. You 
 see, Hank guzzles hard cider, and plays penny 
 ante, and is always hard up. He won't know 
 where it come from, and won't care. The fine 
 cigars them two handed out so free I'm keepin' 
 to smoke Sunday afternoons." 
 
 " Huh! " says I. " That's a good record so 
 far, Uncle Jimmy. Anything more along that 
 line? " 
 
 " Wall," says he, " there was one chance I
 
 SHORTY HEARS FROM PEMAQUED 247 
 
 expect I shouldn't have let slip. Got to talkin' 
 with a feller in the hotel, sort of a hook-nosed, 
 foreign-speakin' man, who's in the show busi- 
 ness. He says his brother-in-law, by the name 
 of Goldberg, has got an idea for a musical 
 comedy that would just set Broadway wild and 
 make a mint of money. All he needed to start 
 it was twenty or thirty thousand, and he 
 figured it would bring in four times that the 
 first season. And he was willin' to let me have 
 a half interest in his scheme. I'd gone in too, 
 only from what he said I thought it must be 
 one of these pieces where they have a lot of 
 girls in tights, and well, I thought of Cynthy 
 again. What would she say to me bein' mixed 
 up with a show of that kind 1 So I had to drop 
 it." 
 
 " Any taxi rides or cigars in that? " says.,1. 
 
 " Just cigars," says Uncle Jimmy. 
 
 11 But you mean to invest that fifty thousand 
 sooner or later, don't you? " says I. 
 
 " Cap'n Bill said I ought to," says he, " and 
 live off'm the interest. He's a mighty smart 
 business man, Cap'n Bill is. And I guess I'll 
 find something before long." 
 
 " You can't miss it," says I, " specially if 
 you keep on as you've started. But see here, 
 Uncle Jimmy, while I ain't got any wonderful 
 deal of my own for you to put your money in, I 
 might throw out a useful hint or two as to other 
 folk's plans. Suppose you just take my card, 
 and before you tie up with any accommodatin'
 
 248 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 financiers drop in at the studio, and talk it over 
 with me." 
 
 " Why, much obliged, Mr. er Professor 
 McCabe," says he, readin' the name off the 
 card. "Mebbelwill." 
 
 " Better make it a promise," says I. "I 
 hate to knock our fair village ; but now and then 
 you might find a crook in New York." 
 
 " So I've heard," says he; " but I kind of 
 think I'd know one if he run afoul of me. And 
 everybody I've met so far has been mighty 
 nice. ' ' 
 
 Well, what else was there for me to' say? 
 There wa'n't any more suspicion in them gen- 
 tle blue eyes of his than in a baby's. Forty 
 years in Pemaquid! Must be some moss- 
 grown, peaceful spot, where a man can grow 
 up so innocent and simple, and yet have the 
 stuff in him Uncle Jimmy must have had. So 
 I tows him back to 42d-st., points him towards 
 the new lib 'ry. again, and turns him loose; him 
 in his old blue suit and faded cap, with Cap'n 
 Bill's antique dive chart and certified check for 
 fifty thousand in his inside pocket. 
 
 I thought he might show up at the studio in 
 a day or so, to submit some get-rich-quick fake 
 to me. But he didn't. A couple of weeks goes 
 by. Still no Uncle Jimmy. I was beginmn' to 
 look for accounts in the papers of how an old 
 jay from the coast of Maine had been bunkoed 
 and gone to the police with his tale of woe ; but 
 nothin' of the kind appears. They don't al-
 
 SHORTY HEARS FROM PEMAQUID 249 
 
 ways squeal, you know. Maybe lie was that 
 kind. 
 
 Then here the other day in that big storm we 
 had, as I'm standin' in the doorway hesitatin' 
 about dodgin' out into them slantwise sheets of 
 rain, who should come paddlin' along, his coat 
 collar turned up and his cap pulled down, but 
 Uncle Jimmy Isham. 
 
 " Well, well! " says I, makin* room for him 
 in the hallway. " Still here, eh? Gettin' to be 
 a reg'lar Broadway rounder, I expect? ' 
 
 11 No," says he, shakin' the water off of him 
 like a terrier, " I I can't seem to get used to 
 bein' a city man. Fact is, McCabe, I guess I 
 begun too late. I don't like it at all." 
 
 " Homesick for Pemaquid? " says I. 
 
 " That's it," says he. "I stove it off until 
 this mornin'. I'd been doin' fust rate too, 
 goin' to picture shows reg'lar, takin' in the 
 sights, and tryin' to make myself believe I was 
 enjoyin' all the luxuries and refinements of life, 
 like Cap'n Bill said I ought to. But when I 
 woke up at daylight and heard this nor'easter 
 snortin' through the streets I couldn't stand it 
 a mite longer. I dun 'no's I can make it plain 
 to you, but well, this ain't no place to be in a 
 storm. Never saw the surf pile up on Pema- 
 quid Point, did you? Then you ought to once. 
 And I bet it's rollin' in* some there now. Yes, 
 Sir! The old graybacks are jest thunderin' in 
 on them rocks with a roar you can hear three 
 miles back in the woods. Roarin' and smashin',
 
 250 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 they are, grand and mighty and awful. And I 
 want to be there to see and hear. I got to, 
 that's all. What's shows and museums and 
 ridin' in the subway, compared to a storm on 
 Pemaquid? No, Sir, I can't stand it any longer. 
 I'm goin' back on the Boston boat to-night, and 
 before it's calmed down at the point I'll be 
 there. I'm goin' to stay there too; that is, if I 
 don't move over to the Neck." 
 
 " With Cynthy? " says I. 
 
 " If she'll let me," says he. 
 
 " Got the fifty thousand invested yet? " 
 says I. 
 
 " No," says he, droppin' his chin guilty, " I 
 ain't. And I expect Cap'n Bill will call me an 
 old fool. But I couldn't jest seem to find the 
 right thing to put it into. So I'm goin' to stop 
 at Wiscasset and leave it at the bank and git 
 'em to buy me some gover'ment bonds or some- 
 thing. That won't bring me in much; but it'll 
 be more'n I'll know what to do with. Then I 
 got to see Cynthy. If she says she'll have me, 
 I suppose I'll have to break it to her about the 
 money. I dun 'no what she's goin' to say, 
 either. That's what's botherin' me." 
 
 " Yes, Uncle Jimmy," says I, givin' him a 
 farewell grip. ' ' Like the cat in the bird store 
 you should worry! " 
 
 Pemaquid, eh? Say, I'm goin' to hire a guide 
 in Portland and discover that place sometime. 
 I'd like to see Uncle Jimmy again.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 SCRATCH ONE ON BULGAROO 
 
 I'D strolled into the front office in my shirt 
 sleeves, and was leanin' against the gym door 
 listenin' to Pinckney and his friend slangin' 
 each other and, believe me, it's a wonderful 
 gift to be able to throw the harpoon refined and 
 polite that way! 
 
 11 Larry," says Pinckney, lookin' him over 
 reproachful, " you are hopeless. You merely 
 cumber the earth." 
 
 11 Having made an art of being useless," says 
 Larry, " you should be an excellent judge." 
 
 " You think you flatter me," says Pinckney; 
 11 but you don't. I live my life as it comes. 
 You are botching yours." 
 
 " Hear, hear! " says Larry. " The butterfly 
 sermonizes! ?; 
 
 " Insect yourself! " says Pinckney. 
 
 " My word! " says Larry. " Chucking 
 entomology at me too ! Well, have it that I'm a 
 grasshopper. My legs are long enough." 
 
 " It's your ears that are long, Larry," says 
 Pinckney. 
 
 " There you go, mixing the metaphor! " says 
 Larry. " So I'm an ass, eh? " 
 
 251
 
 252 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 4 ' The word strikes me as beautifully descrip- 
 tive," says Pinckney. 
 
 " Excuse me," says I, breakin' in, " but is 
 this to a finish? If it is, I'll send out for some 
 throat troches." 
 
 Larry grins and settles himself back easy in 
 my desk chair. Great lad, this Mr. T. Lawrence 
 Bolan ! All he needs is a cape coat and a sugar- 
 loaf hat with a silver buckle to be a stage Irish- 
 man. One of these tall, loose-hinged, awkward- 
 gaited chaps, with wavy red hair the color of a 
 new copper pan, also a chin dimple and a 
 crooked mouth. By rights he should have been 
 homely. Maybe he was too ; but somehow, with 
 that twisty : smile of his workin', and them 
 gray-blue eyes twinklin' at you, the word 
 couldn't be said. 
 
 " Look at him, Shorty! " says Pinckney. 
 " Six feet of futile clay; a waster of time, 
 money, and opportunity." 
 
 " The three gifts that a fool tries to save 
 and a wise man spends with a free hand, ' ' says 
 Larry. " Give me a cigarette." 
 
 * ' How much, now, did you lose to that crowd 
 of bridge sharks last night? " demands Pinck- 
 ney, passin' over a gold case. 
 
 11 Not my self-respect, anyway," says Larry. 
 " Was I to pass cowardly with a hundred aces 
 in hand? And I had the fun of making that 
 Boomer-Day person quit bidding on eight 
 hearts. How she did glare as she doubled 
 me!"
 
 " Set you six hundred, I hear," says Pinck- 
 ney. " At a quarter the point that's no cheap 
 fun." 
 
 " Who asks for cheap fun? " says Larry. 
 " I paid the shot, didn't I? " 
 
 11 And now? " asks Pinckney. 
 
 Larry shrugs his shoulders. " The usual 
 thing," says he; " only it happens a little ear- 
 lier in the month. I'm flat broke, of course." 
 
 "Then why in the name of all folly will, you 
 not borrow a couple of hundred from me I ' ' de- 
 mands Pinckney. 
 
 " Would I pay it back? " says Larry. " No, 
 I would not. So it would be begging, or steal- 
 ing? You see how awkward that makes it, old 
 chap? " 
 
 " But, deuce take it! what are you to do for 
 the next three weeks, you know? " insists 
 Pinckney. 
 
 " Disappear," says Larry, wavin' his ciga- 
 rette jaunty, " and then 
 
 " The haunts that knew him once 
 No more shall know. 
 The halls where once he trod 
 With stately tread er 
 Tum-ti-iddity - 
 As the dead 
 
 or words, my dear Pinckney, much to that ef- 
 fect. My next remittance should be here by the 
 third." 
 
 " When you'll reappear and do it all over 
 again," says Pinckney.
 
 254 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 " In which you're quite wrong," says Larry. 
 " Not that I am bitten by remorse; but I weary 
 of your game. It's a bit stupid, you know, 
 your mad rushing about here and there, plays, 
 dinners, dances, week-ends. You're mostly a 
 good sort; but you've no poise, no repose. Kit- 
 tens chasing your tails ! It leaves no chance to 
 dream dreams." 
 
 " Listen," says Pinckney, " to that superior 
 being, the lordly Briton, utter his usual piffle! 
 I suppose you'd like to marry, settle down on a 
 hundred-acre estate nine miles from nowhere, 
 and do the country gentleman? ' 
 
 " It would be the making of me," says Larry, 
 " and I could be reasonably happy at it." 
 
 " Then why not do it! " demands Pinckney. 
 
 "On a thousand pounds a year? " says 
 Larry. "Goto!" 
 
 " The fact remains," says Pinckney, " that 
 you have for an uncle the Earl of Kerrymull." 
 
 " And that I'm his best hated nephew, paid 
 to keep out of his sight," comes back Larry. 
 
 " But you are where an Earl-uncle counts 
 for most," suggests Pinckney. " By judicious 
 choice of a father-in-law " 
 
 " Rot! " breaks in Larry. " Am I a cheap 
 adventurer in a third-rate melodrama f Waster 
 I may be ; but no dowry hunter. ' ' 
 
 " As though you could not like, for herself 
 alone, any one of the half-dozen pretty girls 
 who are foolish enough to be crazy over you," 
 says Pinckney.
 
 SCRATCH ONE ON BULGAROO 255 
 
 " As though. I'd be blighter enough to let 
 myself fall in love with any of the sweet 
 dears! " says Larry. "I'm in my thirties, 
 Man." 
 
 " There's widows aplenty," hints Pinckney. 
 
 "Bless 'em all!" says Larry. "I'd not 
 load one of them with aj wild, impecunious 
 Irishman like myself." 
 
 " Then what? " says Pinckney. " Also 
 where, and whither? " 
 
 " Bulgaroo," says Larry, wavin' vague into 
 space. 
 
 " Is that a form of self -destruction? " asks 
 Pinckney. 
 
 " Almost," says Larry. " It's the nearest 
 town to Sir Horace Vaughn's No. 6 sheep 
 ranch. Quaint little spot, Bulgaroo; chiefly 
 corrugated iron villas and kangaroo scrub, two 
 hundred-odd miles back from Sidney. I'm due 
 there at the end of next month." 
 
 " My regards to the Bulgaroovians," says I. 
 
 " Is this just a whim of yours, or a crazy 
 plan? " says Pinckney. 
 
 " Both," says Larry. " No. 6 is where I 
 went to do penance when the Earl and I had our 
 grand smashup. Eighteen months I put in be- 
 fore he settled an allowance on me. They'll 
 give me another foreman's job. I'll stay three 
 years this time, saving pay and remittance 
 drafts, and at the end I'll have hoarded enough 
 to buy an interest, or a ranch of my own. 
 That's the theory. Actually, I shall probably
 
 256 SHOETY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 take an amazing thirst into Bulgaroo about 
 once a month, buy vile champagne at the 
 Queen's Arms, and otherwise disport myself 
 like a true sheepherder. The finis will not 
 sound pretty.' 7 
 
 Pinckney stares at him puzzled for a minute, 
 and then turns to me. " Shorty," says he, 
 " you're a Celt. What do you make of him? " 
 
 " My guess is that there's a skirt in the back- 
 ground, ' ' says I. 
 
 " Oh-ho! " says Pinckney. 
 
 1 ' Touched I ' ' says Larry. 
 
 Pinckney aims the cigarette case at him, re- 
 markin' savage, " The story or your life. 
 Come, now! ' ; 
 
 Larry springs that wistful, twisty smile of 
 his and goes on. " It happened here, eight 
 years ago, as I was on my way to No. 6. I'd 
 picked up a beastly fever somewhere, and I 
 knew not a soul in your blessed city. So I 
 wabbled into a hospital and let them tuck me 
 away in a cot. Now grin, blast you! Yes, she 
 was one of the day nurses, Katie McDevitt. No 
 raving beauty, you know. Ah, but the starry 
 bright eyes of her, the tender touch of her soft 
 hand, and the quick wits under her white cap! 
 It wasn't just the mushy sentiment of a con- 
 valescent, either. Three grand weeks after- 
 wards I waited around, going walks with her in 
 the park, taking her on foolish steamer rides, 
 sending her flowers, notes, candy. We were 
 rare spoons, and she was as good as she was.
 
 SCRATCH ONE ON BULGAROO 257 
 
 witty. There was an idyl for you! Then, when 
 I woke up one day why, I ran away without a 
 word ! What else could I do ? I was bound for 
 an Australian sheep ranch. And there I went. 
 Since then not a whisper of her. By now it's 
 quite likely she's the wife of some lucky dog 
 of a doctor, and never gives me a thought. So 
 why shouldn't I go back! " 
 
 " Because, you crack-brained Irishman," 
 says Pinckney, " when you're not maundering 
 over some such idiocy as this, you're the most 
 entertaining good-for-nothing that ever graced 
 a dinner table or spread the joy of life through 
 a dull drawing room. Come home with me for 
 the week-end, anyway." 
 
 " I'll not," says Larry. " I'm a pauper." 
 
 " Will you go with Shorty, then? " says 
 Pinckney. " At times he's as absurd as your- 
 self." 
 
 " He's not asked me," says Larry. 
 
 " My tongue's drippin' with it," says I. "I 
 had an own cousin come over from Kerrymull. 
 You'll be welcome." 
 
 t i Done ! ' ' says Larry. ' ' And for board and 
 lodging I'll sing you Ballyshone after dinner." 
 
 So he did too, and if you've ever heard it well 
 sung, you'll know the lump I had in my throat 
 as I listened. Also I had him tell Sadie about 
 Katie McDevitt; and when he'd made friends 
 with little Sully and the dog we could have kept 
 him for a year and a day. 
 
 But that Sunday afternoon, while we was
 
 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 swingin' out of the front gates for a walk, we 
 stops to let a limousine whizz by, and we gets a 
 glimpse of a woman's face through the win- 
 dows. 
 
 "Lord love you, McCabe! ' says Larry, 
 grippin' me by the arm, " but who was that? " 
 
 " In the car? " says I. " No one but Mrs. 
 Sam Steele." 
 
 " Mrs., did you say? " says he. 
 
 " The rich widow," says I, " that lives in 
 the big house over on the Shore Drive." I 
 pointed it out. 
 
 "A widow!" says he. ''Thanks be! 
 Shorty, she's the one! r 
 
 " Not your Miss McDevitt? " says I. 
 
 " No other," says he. "I'd swear it! " 
 
 " Then you're nutty in the head, Mr. Larry 
 Bolan," says I; " for I've known her these two 
 years, and never heard of her being an ex- 
 nurse." 
 
 " She might not care to boast of it," says he. 
 " Rich, did you say? " 
 
 " Near a million, they say," says I; " which 
 don't fit in with the nurse idea, does it? " 
 
 " I couldn't mistake Katie McDevitt," says 
 he, waggin' his head mulish. " But who was 
 this Steele beggar? " 
 
 " She moved here after plantin' him West 
 somewhere," says I. " One of the big lumber 
 crowd, I've heard. Sadie can tell you more." 
 
 " Thanks," says he; " but I'll have it from 
 Katie herself. Take me there."
 
 SCRATCH ONE ON BULGAROO 259 
 
 < t 
 
 Eh? " says I. " On a chance shot? I'd 
 look well, wouldn't I? " 
 
 1 ' But you must, ' ' says he. ' ' Now ! ' ' 
 
 " Come off ! " says I. " You with only a 
 glance at her! Besides, she's one of these stiff, 
 distant parties that keeps to herself." 
 
 " McCabe," says he, "I mean to talk with 
 her within the hour if I have to smash in her 
 front door and wring a butler's neck." 
 
 There 's a thrill in his voice as he says it, and 
 from all I know of Larry Bolan there's no 
 stoppin' him. We started off. 
 
 The nearer we got to the big house, though, 
 the battier the enterprise seemed to me. First 
 off, I'd been nursin' a dislike for Mrs. Steele 
 ever since I'd overheard a little seance between 
 her and one of the outside men. She'd caught 
 him smugglin' home a few measly vegetables 
 from her big garden, and after tongue lashin' 
 him lively she fires him on the spot him a 
 poor Dago with a big fam'ly. Then there 'd 
 been tales told by the butcher, the plumber, and 
 half a dozen others, all goin' to show she was 
 a lady tightwad, or worse. 
 
 So I'd sized her up as a cold, hard proposi- 
 tion. And when I work up feelin's like that 
 I'm apt to show 'em. I couldn't help thinkin' 
 but maybe I had. Here I was, though, cartin' 
 a strange gent up to her front door, on his guess 
 that he's her long lost Romeo. 
 
 11 Ah, be good, Larry! " says I. " Let's call 
 it off."
 
 260 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 He shakes his head stubborn. 
 
 " All right," says I; " but take it from me 
 we're about to pull down trouble. What's the 
 plan? " 
 
 He thinks, as long as I know the lady, I'd bet- 
 ter send in my name and then break it to her 
 easy. So, while I'm waitin' in the reception 
 hall, he kicks his heels impatient against the 
 veranda rail outside. 
 
 Bather a classy lopkin' party, Mrs. Steele is 
 as she shows up in a stunnin' house gown, 
 good lines, fine complexion, and all that. Takes 
 mighty good care of herself, so Sadie says, with 
 two French maids to help. She don't stint her- 
 self that way. And the little streak of early 
 gray through her front hair gives her sort of a 
 distinguished look. There's nothin' friendly, 
 though, about the straight, tight-lipped mouth, 
 or the surprised look in her eyes as she dis- 
 covers me standin' there. 
 
 " Mr. McCabe? " says she. 
 
 " You see," says I, grinnin' foolish, " there's 
 a chap outside who who has a batty idea he 
 used to know you." 
 
 " Really? " says she, narrowin' her eyes a 
 bit. 
 
 " Bolan's the name, Ma'am," I goes on, 
 " Larry Bolan." 
 
 It wa.'n't much, just a quiver, a little 
 lift of the shoulders, a bunchin' of the fingers. 
 Then she bites her lip and gets a grip on her- 
 self. " Well? " says she. " What of it? "
 
 SCRATCH ONE ON BULGAROO 261 
 
 " Why," says I, " he he wants to have a 
 talk with you. Course, though, if you don't 
 know him, or don't remember, all you got to 
 do " 
 
 * ' Yes, yes ! ' ' she breaks in. "I understand. 
 Wait! " * 
 
 A couple of minutes she stands there, never 
 makin' a crack or givin' any sign, except that 
 the toe of one slipper taps the rug restless. 
 Then she gives her decision. ' ' You may bring 
 him in," says she. 
 
 " How about sendin' him! " I suggests. 
 
 " No, not alone," says she. " I want you to 
 stay. ' ' 
 
 So I steps to the door. " LarKy," says I, 
 " you're called on the carpet; but for the 
 love of soup don't pull any of that old 
 sweetheart stuff reckless! The signs ain't 
 right." 
 
 And a fat lot of notice he takes of my advice. 
 Trust Larry ! He pushes in eager ahead of me, 
 marches straight to where she is, gives her one 
 mushy, admirin' look, and the next thing I 
 know he has reached for one of her hands and is 
 kissin' it as graceful and romantic as James K. 
 Hackett doin' a Zenda stunt. 
 
 Gave Mrs. Steele some jolt, that play did ; for 
 it's plain she was fixin' to frost him at the start. 
 But it's all over before she has time to draw a 
 breath, and he has let her fingers slip through 
 his caressin'. 
 
 " Katie!" says he.
 
 262 SHOETY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 She flushes and stiffens up. ' ' Silly as ever, I 
 see," says she. 
 
 " More so," says he. " But it's only seeing 
 you again that brings on the attack. Katie, 
 you're glorious! " 
 
 "Please!" says she, protestin'. " I've 
 rather outgrown my liking for sentimental 
 speeches. Tell me, why do you hunt me up like 
 this, after so long? ' 
 
 " Can you ask? " says he. " Look! No 
 in my eyes, Katie." 
 
 And, say, with things gettin' that gummy, I 
 was beginnin' to feel like a cold boiled potato 
 served accidental with the pie. 
 
 " Excuse me," says I, " but maybe I'd better 
 wait in the next room." 
 
 " Not at all," says Mrs. Steele, real crisp 
 and businesslike. " It will be only for a mo- 
 ment, while Mr. Bolan states very briefly his 
 exact purpose in coming here." 
 
 Larry bows. " To see once more the girl he 
 could not forget," says he. 
 
 " Humph! " says she, curlin' her upper lip. 
 " Very pretty, I suppose. But let me assure 
 you that foolish young person ceased to exist 
 several years ago." 
 
 " She lives for me here," says Larry, 
 placin' one hand on his left vest pocket. 
 
 Mrs. Steele indulges in a thin little cold- 
 storage laugh that sounds almost as pleasant 
 as tappin' a gas pipe. "What a sudden re- 
 vival of an old, worn-out affection! " says
 
 SCRATCH ONE ON BULGAROO 263 
 
 she. " When did you first hear I was a 
 widow? " 
 
 "Less than an hour ago," says Larry. 
 
 " Did they say I was rich, or poor? " she 
 goes on sarcastic. 
 
 " Katie! " says he gaspy. " Surely you 
 you can't think " 
 
 " It's what I ask them all," says she, " do- 
 mestic and imported. Naturally I am a little 
 suspicious when they declare passionate love at 
 the first or second meeting; for, in spite of what 
 my maids tell me, my mirror insists that I'm 
 not ravishingly beautiful. So I've begun to 
 suspect that perhaps my money may be the at- 
 traction. And I'm not in the market for a 
 husband, you know." 
 
 " Bing-g-g! " says I under my breath. 
 
 As for Larry Bolan, it leaves him with his 
 chin down. For, after all, he ain't one of your 
 walrus-hided gents. As a matter of fact, he's 
 as sensitive as they come, and she couldn't have 
 handed it out rougher. 
 
 " My dear lady," says he, " you are pleased 
 to be cruel. Perhaps, though, it's only my due. 
 I admit that I'm only a poor pensioner posing 
 as a gentleman. But within a month I shall be 
 on my way to bury myself on the other side of 
 the world. Meanwhile, I see you pass. Could 
 I help wanting a few kind words of yours to 
 take with me? " 
 
 " If that is really all, Mr. Bolan," says she, 
 " I would advise you to outlive your nonsense,
 
 264 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 as I've outlived mine. Try paying your tailor 
 with kind words." 
 
 " Katie," says he, with a sob in his voice, 
 " you you've broken the heart of me. Come, 
 McCabe, we will go. ' ' 
 
 She stands watchin' us, smilin' cynical, until 
 we 're almost through the door ; and then well, 
 it's a sigh that comes out explosive. She 
 starts as if she meant to dash after us, and then 
 stops with her arms out. 
 
 " Larry! " says she, almost in a whisper. 
 
 It pulls him up, and he stares at her a minute 
 over his shoulder. " It's no use, Katie," says 
 he. " What's turned you hard and cold I don't 
 know; but you can't unsay what's been said. 
 And it hurt bitter. ' ' 
 
 1 ' Oh, I know, I know ! ' ' says she. ' ' But you 
 must hear what it was that changed me from 
 the girl you knew. Money, Larry, the money 
 for which I married. As for the man oh, I 
 suppose he was no worse than the rest; only he 
 taught me to love a dollar more than anything 
 else in earth or heaven. He'd wrung all of his 
 from a grudging world with his bare hands, 
 starved and slaved and plotted for it, in mean 
 ways, against mean men ; then fought to hold it. 
 And he knew to a penny's worth what every 
 dollar he spent should buy for him. Among 
 other things, he bought me. Sixty-odd he was ; 
 I barely twenty. Why call it differently? I 
 was fool enough, too, to think I was a lucky 
 girl. Ah, what a fool ! Seven years of fear and
 
 SCEATCH ONE ON BULGAROO 265 
 
 hate ! It's an awful thing, Larry, to live so long 
 with hate in you for one at your side. But he 
 he never knew." 
 
 She leaves off, squeezin' one hand in the 
 other until the ends of the fingers went white, 
 her chest heavin', her eyes stary. Larry 
 watches her without a word. 
 
 " Tell me," says she after a bit, " why you 
 ran away that time and left me to to make 
 such a mess of things. Why? " 
 
 " For the same reason that I'm going away 
 again now," says he. " I've a thousand pounds 
 a year, and not sense enough to keep myself on 
 it, let alone a wife. So it's good-by, Katie." 
 
 Then the weeps came, open eyed; but she 
 didn't try to hide 'em. " Oh, oh! " she moans. 
 " But I was so lonely then, and and I'm so 
 lonely now! " 
 
 Them few drops of brine turned the trick. 
 " Ah, Katie McDevitt! " says he. " If I could 
 bring back the old Katie! By the soul of me, 
 but I will? You never heard of my old uncle, 
 did you? Come with me to him, and see me 
 make it up; for I can't leave you this way, 
 Katie, I just can't! " 
 
 " Larry! " says she, and with that they goes 
 to a fond clinch. 
 
 * * Help t ' ' says I, and slides through the 
 door. 
 
 When I gets home Sadie wants to know what 
 I've done with Mr. Bolan. 
 
 " Towed him up to Hymen's gate," says I,
 
 266 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 " and left him bein' yanked through by Mrs. 
 Sam Steele." 
 
 " Wha-a-at? " says she. " Of all persons! 
 And when did that start, I'd like to know? " 
 
 " Eight years back," says I. " She was 
 Katie the nurse, and this is their second act. 
 Anyway, he ducks Bulgaroo by it."
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 BAYAKD DUCKS HIS PAST 
 
 FEBST place, Swifty Joe should have let the 
 subject drop. Anyway, he needn't have come 
 paradin' into the front office in his gym suit to 
 show me his nutty theory of how Young Disko 
 landed that knockout on the Australian in the 
 breakaway. 
 
 " Turn over! " says I. " You're on your 
 back! He couldn't have done anything of the 
 kind." 
 
 " Couldn't, eh! " growls Swifty. " Ahr-r-r-r 
 chee! Couldn't give him the shoulder on the 
 jaw! Ain't I seen it done? Say, lemme show 
 you " 
 
 " Show nothing! " says I. "I'm tellin' you 
 it was a right hook the kid put him out with, 
 from chancery. Now see! " 
 
 With that I sheds my coat, gets Swifty 's neck 
 in the crook of my left elbow, swings him 
 round for a side hip-lock, and bends his head 
 forward. 
 
 " Now, you South Brooklyn kike," I goes on, 
 maybe more realistic than I meant, ' ' I got you 
 right, ain't I? And all I got to do is push in a 
 half-arm jolt like this, and " 
 
 267
 
 268 SHOKTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 Well, then I looks up. Neither of us has 
 noticed her come in, hadn't even heard the knob 
 turn; but standin' there in the middle of the 
 room and starin' straight at us is a perfectly 
 good female lady. 
 
 That don't half tell it, either. She's all lady, 
 from the tips of her double-A pumps to the lit- 
 tle gray wing peekin' over the top of her dingy 
 gray bonnet. One of these slim, dainty, grace- 
 ful built parties, with white, lacy stuff at her 
 wrists and throat, and the rest of her costume 
 all gray: not the puckered-waist, half-masted 
 skirt effects all the women are wearin' now. I 
 can't say what year's model it was, or how far 
 back; but it's a style that seems just fitted to 
 her: maybe one that she's invented herself. 
 Around thirty-five, I should judge she was, from 
 the little streak of gray runnin' through her 
 front hair. 
 
 What got me, though, was the calm, remote, 
 superior look that she's givin' us. She don't 
 seem nervous or panicky at all, like most 
 women would, breakin' in on a roughhouse 
 scene like that. She don't even stare reprovin', 
 but stands there watchin' us as serene as if we 
 wa'n't anything more'n pictures on a movie 
 sheet. And there we was, holdin' the pose; me 
 with my right all bunched for action, and Swif ty 
 with his face to the mat. Seemed minutes we 
 was clinched there, and everything so still you 
 could hear Swifty's heavy breathin' all over 
 the room.
 
 BAYARD DUCKS HIS PAST 269 
 
 Course I was waitin' for some remarks from 
 her. You'd most think they was due, wouldn't 
 you? It's my private office, remember, and 
 she's sort of crashed in unannounced. If any 
 explainin' was done, it was up to her to start it. 
 And waitin' for what don't come is apt to get 
 on your nerves. 
 
 " Eh? " I throws over my shoulder at her. 
 
 Her straight eyebrows kind of humps in the 
 middle that's all. 
 
 " Did you say anything? " I goes on. 
 
 " No," says she. If she'd smiled sort of 
 faint, or even glared stern at us, it wouldn't 
 have been so bad. But she just presses her 
 lips together thin, narrow-gage lips, they was 
 and goes on givin' us that distant, uncon- 
 cerned look. 
 
 Meanwhile Swifty, with his face bent towards 
 the floor, ain't gettin' any view at all, and is 
 only guessin' what's happenin'. He squirms 
 impatient. 
 
 " Say, Shorty," he grumbles, " I got a few 
 bones in me neck, remember. Break, can't 
 you? " 
 
 And as I loosens my hold he straightens up, 
 only to get the full benefit of that placid, lady- 
 like lookover. 
 
 " Ahr-r-r chee! " says he, glancin' disgusted 
 at me. Then he starts gettin' rosy in the ears, 
 like he always does when there's fluffs around, 
 and after one more hasty look he bolts back 
 into the gym.
 
 270 SHOETY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 The strange lady watches this move like she 
 has everything else, only she shrugs her shoul- 
 ders a bit. What she meant by that I couldn't 
 make out. I was gettin' to the point where I 
 didn't care so much, either. 
 
 "Well, Ma'am? " says I. 
 
 " Poor fellow! " says she. " I am glad he 
 escaped that brutal blow." 
 
 " Are you? " says I. " Well, don't waste too 
 much sympathy on him; for I was only demon- 
 stratin' how " 
 
 ' ' You might offer me a chair, ' ' she breaks in 
 sort of casual. 
 
 "Why er sure!" says I, and before I 
 knew it I was jumpin' to drag one up. 
 
 She settles into it without even a nod of 
 thanks. 
 
 " You see," I goes on, " he's my assistant, 
 and I was tryin' to show him how " 
 
 " It's rather stuffy here," observes the lady. 
 " Couldn't you open a window? " / 
 
 It's more an order than anything else; but I 
 hops over and shoves the sash wide open. 
 
 ." That's too much," says she. " It causes 
 a draft." 
 
 So I shuts it halfway. Then I gets her a 
 glass of water. " Anything else you'd like? " 
 says I, tryin' to be sarcastic. " The mornin' 
 paper, or " 
 
 " Where is Mr. Steele? " "she demands. 
 
 " Oh! " says I, gettin' a little light on the 
 mystery. " J. Bayard, you mean? "
 
 BAYARD DUCKS HIS PAST 271 
 
 < t 
 
 Of course," says she. " He was not at 
 his hotel, and as this was the other address I 
 was given I expected to find him here. ' ' 
 
 " Huh! " says I. " Gave you this number, 
 did he? Well, you see, this is my Physical Cul- 
 ture Studio, and while he's apt to be here off 
 and on, it ain't his " 
 
 " Just such a place as I might have antici- 
 pated finding Bayard in," says she, glancin' 
 around the front office at the portraits in ring 
 costume and so on. ' ( Quite ! ' ' 
 
 " Let's see," says I, " you are er " 
 
 11 I am Mrs. Lee Hollister," says she, " of 
 Richmond, Virginyah." 
 
 " I might have suspicioned that last," says I, 
 " by the way you " 
 
 But she don't give me a show to register any 
 little slam I might have thought of puttin' 
 over. She's the kind that conducts a conversa- 
 tion accordin' to her own rules, and she never 
 hesitates to cut in. 
 
 " I want to know what there is about this 
 will of Mr. Gordon's," she demands. " Some 
 absurd legacy, I presume ; at least, my solicitor, 
 Colonel Henderson, seemed to think so. I sup- 
 pose you've heard of Colonel Britt Hender- 
 son? " 
 
 " Not a whisper," says I, as defiant as I 
 know how. 
 
 She expresses her opinion of such ignorance 
 with a little li ft of her pointed chin. ' ' Colonel 
 Henderson," she goes on, " is perhaps the
 
 272 SHOETY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 ablest and most brilliant attorney in Virginyah. 
 He is connected with the best families in the 
 State." 
 
 " Never heard of anybody from down there 
 that wa'n't," says I. " And while I ain't dis- 
 putin' him, mind you, his guess about this bein' 
 a legacy is " 
 
 "Will Mr. Steele be in soon?" she asks 
 crisp. 
 
 " Might," says I, " and then again he 
 mightn't." 
 
 " It's rather rude of him to keep me wait- 
 ing," says she. 
 
 " Maybe if you'd sent word ahead," I sug- 
 gests, " he'd been on hand. But now you've 
 come all this way " 
 
 " You don't suppose," breaks in Mrs. Hoi- 
 lister, " that I came north just for that? Not 
 at all. It was to select a design for the me- 
 morial window I am having placed in our 
 church, in memory of poor, dear Professor 
 Hollister. My late husband, you know; and a 
 most noble, talented, courtly gentleman he was 
 too." 
 
 " Ye-e-es'm," says I. 
 
 " What are those objects on the wall? " says 
 she, shiftin' sudden. 
 
 " Boxin' gloves, Ma'am," says I. " That's 
 the pair of mitts that won me the champion- 
 ship, back in " 
 
 " Has Mr. Steele become a pugilist, too? " 
 she asks.
 
 BAYAED DUCKS HIS PAST 273 
 
 11 Not so you'd notice it," says I. 
 
 " Hm-m-m-m ! " says she, tappin' the toe of 
 one of her pumps and gazin' around critical. 
 
 Not that she takes any notice of me. Honest, 
 if I'd been a yellow pup tied in the corner, 
 she couldn't have been more offhand. I was 
 gettin' warm in the neck by the minute too, and 
 in three more shakes I'd been cuttin' loose with 
 the acid remarks, when the door opens and in 
 blows J. Bayard Steele. I sighs relieved when 
 I sees Mm too. 
 
 " Oh! " says he, gettin' a back view of her. 
 
 " I beg pardon. I er " Then she turns 
 
 and faces him. * ' Alice ! " he gasps. 
 
 " My dear Bayard! " she protests. " Please 
 let's not have any scene. It was all so long ago, 
 and I'm sure you must have gotten over that." 
 
 " But how why er " he goes on. 
 
 11 You wrote to Mrs. Lee Hollister, didn't 
 you? " she demands. " I am Mrs. Hollister." 
 
 Another gasp from Steele. " You? " says 
 he. " Then you you " 
 
 "To be sure I married," says she. " And 
 Professor Hollister was one of the truest, 
 noblest Southern gentlemen who ever lived. I 
 have mourned his loss for nearly ten years, 
 
 and But don't stand there twiddling 
 
 your hat in that absurd fashion! You may 
 sit, if you like. Get Mr. Steele a chair, will 
 you? " 
 
 I'd jumped and done it too, before I had time 
 to think.
 
 274 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 " Now what is this about Mr. Gordon's 
 will? " says she. 
 
 Well, between us, whenever she'd let us get 
 in a word, we managed to sketch out the idea. 
 
 " You see," says Steele, " Pyramid Gordon 
 wished to make what reparation he could for 
 any injustice he might have done during the 
 course of his business career. He left a list of 
 names, among them being this, * the widow of 
 Professor Lee Hollister.' Now possibly Gor- 
 don, in some way " 
 
 " He did," breaks in Mrs. Hollister. " My 
 husband had issued an elaborate and exhaustive 
 geological report on a certain district. It had 
 attracted wide attention. He was to have been 
 appointed State Geologist, when suddenly this 
 Mr. Gordon appeared and began his unwar- 
 ranted campaign of abuse and opposition. 
 Something about some coal and iron deposits, 
 I believe it was, on land which he was trying 
 to sell to an English syndicate. Professor Hoi- 
 lister's report failed to mention any such de- 
 posits. As a matter of fact they did not exist. 
 But Mr. Gordon summoned experts of his own, 
 who attacked my husband's statements. The 
 professor declined to enter into a public con- 
 troversy. His dignity would not permit him. 
 Underhanded influence was brought to bear on 
 the Governor, and the appointment was given 
 to another. But time has shown. Discredited 
 and beaten though he seemed to be, my husband 
 was right. The Gordon lands proved valueless.
 
 BAYAED DUCKS HIS PAST 275 
 
 Those in which Professor Hollister invested his 
 savings were rich in minerals." 
 
 " Ah! " says Steele. " Quite like Pyramid. 
 And it has been left to us, Mrs. Hollister, to 
 recompense, if we may, the bitterness of 
 that-" 
 
 " Please! " says the lady. " Professor Hol- 
 lister was not an embittered man. Such meth- 
 ods were beneath his contempt. He merely 
 withdrew from public life. As for recompense 
 surely you would not think of asking me to 
 accept it from such a source ! Never ! Besides, 
 I have more than enough. Several years ago I 
 disposed of our mineral holdings, bought back 
 the old Hollister mansion, and I am now living 
 there in as much comfort as poor Lee could 
 have wished me to enjoy. What could Gor- 
 don's money add to that? " 
 
 If I'd been J. Bayard, hanged if I wouldn't 
 called it quits right there! But he's gettin' so 
 chesty over this job of sunshine distributer 
 that there's no holdin' him in. 
 
 " Surely, Alice," he insists, " there must be 
 some way in which I, as er an old friend, 
 might " 
 
 Mrs. Hollister cuts him off with a wave of 
 her hand. " You don't understand," says she. 
 " I am no longer the vain, frivolous young girl 
 whom you knew that winter in Chicago. My 
 first season, that was. I was being lavishly en- 
 tertained. I suppose I became dazzled by it 
 all, the attention, the new scenes, the many
 
 276 SHOETY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 men I met. I've no doubt I behaved very silly. 
 But now well, I have realized all my social 
 ambitions. Now I am devoting my life to the 
 memory of my sainted husband, to charity, to 
 our dear church." 
 
 I gawps curious over at J. Bayard to see what 
 comeback he has to this dose of mush, and finds 
 him starin' foolish at her. 
 
 II There is only one thing " she begins. 
 
 11 Yes? " says Steele, kind of faint. " Some- 
 thing in which we might " 
 
 " I am interested in a group of girls," says 
 she, " factory girls; one of our Guild Mission 
 classes, you know. They have been anxious to 
 have some dances. Now I am strongly opposed 
 to the modern dances, all of them. True, I've 
 seen very little, almost nothing. So I decided 
 that, in order to convince myself that I am right, 
 I might as well, while I am in New York 
 well er " 
 
 ' ' I get you, ' ' I puts in. ' ' You want to watch 
 the real thing pulled the fox trot, and the new 
 polkas, and so on. Eh? " 
 
 " Not for my own personal amusement," cor- 
 rects Mrs. Hollister. " I am sure I shall be 
 bored, perhaps shocked ; but then I shall be bet- 
 ter able to warn my girls. ' ' 
 
 "The old gag!" says I. "I know what 
 would fit your case, a late dinner at the 
 Maison Maxixe. Eh, Steele? " and I tips him 
 the knowin' wink. 
 
 " Why er yes," says J. Bayard. " I pre-
 
 BAYAED DUCKS HIS PAST 277 
 
 sume Mr. McCabe is correct. And I am sure 
 we should be delighted to have Mrs. Hollister 
 as our guest." 
 
 1 ' We ! " I gasps under my breath. Say, the 
 nerve of him! But before I can think up any 
 previous date the lady has accepted. 
 
 " I have heard of the place," says she. " I 
 am quite willing to endure an evening there. I 
 am wondering, though, if I should not be rather 
 conspicuous. You see, I brought with me none 
 but simple gowns such as this, and perhaps the 
 contrast " 
 
 " You'd be about as prominent at the Maxixe 
 in that outfit," says I, " as a one-legged albino 
 at a coon cakewalk. Besides, they don't let you 
 in there unless you're in full evenin'. Course, 
 there's other joints where " 
 
 " No," says she. " Let it be the Maison 
 Maxixe, if that is the worst. And for once too 
 I may as well submit myself to the horrors of 
 the new fashions. I will order a costume to- 
 day, and I can be ready for my plunge into 
 Gotham vanities by let me see we will say 
 Saturday night. I am at the Lady Louise. 
 You may call for me there about eight. Good- 
 by. Don't be late, Gentlemen." And with that 
 she does the abrupt flit, leavin' us gawpin' at 
 each other stupid. 
 
 " Much obliged, Steele," says I, " for ringin' 
 me in on this nutty reunion of yours. Say, J. B., 
 you got a head like a tack, you have ! Have a 
 heart, can't you? "
 
 " My dear Shorty," says he, " permit me to 
 point out that it was you who suggested taking 
 her to " 
 
 " Because you was sittin' there like a gump," 
 says I. " Only helpin' you out, that's all. And 
 I'm goin' to look nice, ain't I, trailin' into a 
 place like that with you and this say, just 
 where does the lady fit into your past, anyway? 
 Never heard you mention her, did II " 
 
 " Naturally not," says he. " One doesn't 
 boast of having been thrown over." 
 
 " Eh? " says I. " You was engaged to 
 her? " 
 
 He nods and gazes sentimental at the ceilin'. 
 " My one genuine romance," says he. " I sup- 
 pose she wasn't really the radiant beauty I 
 imagined; but she was charming, vivacious, 
 fascinating. It was a bad case of love at first 
 sight. At eleven o 'clock that evening, I remem- 
 ber, I took her in to supper. At twelve I was 
 leading her into a palm-sheltered nook, and 
 the next thing I knew I had taken her in my 
 arms and well, the usual thing. No one could 
 have made a more complete ass of himself. She 
 should have boxed my ears. She didn't. The 
 engagement lasted all of one week." 
 
 11 Then you recovered from the attack? ' 
 says I. 
 
 " No," says he. " She had discovered an- 
 other, several others. She told me quite 
 casually that she really hadn't meant it; and 
 wasn't I, after all, rather a wild young man? I
 
 BAYAED DUCKS HIS PAST 279 
 
 assured her that if I wasn't wild I should be 
 after that. She only shrugged her shoulders. 
 So I gave her up. The others did too. And 
 she went back to Richmond, it seems, and mar- 
 ried a sainted geologist; while I well, I never 
 did get over it, quite. Silly, of course; but 
 when I met other girls later I I remembered, 
 that's all." 
 
 " Which accounts for you bein' a bach so 
 long, does it? " says I. " Well, it's never too 
 late. Here's your chance once more. At the 
 Maison Maxixe you can pull any kind of ro- 
 mance, stale or recent, and nobody '11 care a 
 hoot. I'll duck the dinner, and you can " 
 
 " No, no! " protests J. Bayard. " I er I 
 wouldn't take her to dinner alone for worlds. 
 Really! " he waves his hands almost tragic. 
 
 " Why not! " says I. " Thought you hadn't 
 got over it. ' ' 
 
 " Oh, but I have," insists Steele, " thor- 
 oughly." 
 
 " Must have been lately then," says I. 
 
 11 To-day just now," says he. "I never 
 dreamed she would develop into er a woman 
 like that, the way she looks at you, you know. ' ' 
 
 " You don't need to describe it," says I. 
 " That wa'n't a marker to the way she looked 
 at Swif ty and me. But wait ! We '11 hand her 
 a jolt Saturday night." 
 
 Steele groans. "I wish I could By 
 
 George! " he explodes. " I'd forgotten Major 
 Ben Cutter."
 
 " What about Mm! " says I. 
 
 " An old friend," says J. Bayard. " He's 
 landing Saturday, from Santa Marta. I haven't 
 seen him for years, been down there running 
 a banana plantation, you know. He cabled up, 
 and I'd promised to take him around that even- 
 ing, dinner at the club, and " 
 
 " Ah, ditch it, J. B.! " says I. "No old- 
 friend alibi goes in this case." 
 
 "But, Shorty," he protests, "how can 
 j M 
 
 " You can lug him along, can't you? " says I. 
 " Make it a four-cornered affair. The more 
 the merrier." 
 
 " He's such a diffident, shy chap, though," 
 goes on Steele, " and after five years in the 
 bush " 
 
 " Oh, a dose of Mrs. Hollister will do him 
 good," says I. " She won't mind. She'll be 
 bein' bored. Just 'phone her and explain. 
 And remind her when she's gettin' her cos- 
 tume that this ain't any church sociable we're 
 attendin'." 
 
 Honest, I was more leery on that point than 
 about anything else; for you know how giddy 
 they doll up at them joints, and while her taste 
 in stained glass windows might be strictly up 
 to date, when it comes to flossin' up for the 
 Maison Maxixe well, no gray-and-white, back- 
 number regalia would do there. If we wa'n't 
 shut out, we 'd be guyed to death. 
 
 So about seven-thirty Saturday night I was
 
 some chilly in the ankles. I'd called for J. 
 Bayard at his hotel, and he'd shown up with the 
 Major. No figment of the imagination, either, 
 the Major. He's a big, husky, rich-colored 
 party that's some imposin' and decorative in 
 open-faced togs; quiet and shy actin', though, 
 just as Steele had said. I sort of took to him, 
 and we swaps friendly greetin's. 
 
 " All aboard now," says I, " and we'll col- 
 lect our widow. ' ' 
 
 Which seems to startle the Major more or 
 less. " I say, Bayard," he puts in, " you didn't 
 tell me she was a widow, you know. Perhaps, 
 after all, I'd best not " 
 
 " Ah, she ain't the net-wieldin' kind," says 
 I soothin'. " She'll tell you all about her dear 
 departed and the memorial window. About as 
 gay as Trinity Church on Ash Wednesday, 
 she is. Come along." 
 
 Can you blame him, then, for glancin' re- 
 proachful at me when he sees what answers our 
 call at the Lady Louise a few minutes later? I 
 lets go of a few gasps myself; while J. Bayard 
 well, he just stares at her with his mouth 
 open. 
 
 For, take it from me, Mrs. Hollister had con- 
 nected ! Uh-huh ! Not with any last fall outfit, 
 nor yesterday's. About day after to-morrow's, 
 I should call it. And if there wa'n't zipp and 
 scream to it, then I'm shortsighted in the eyes. 
 My guess is that it's a mixture of the last word 
 in Byzantine effects, with a Cleopatra girdle
 
 282 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 and a Martha Washington polonaise. Anyway, 
 if there ain't much above the waist line but 
 gauze and strips of fur, there's plenty of flare 
 below, as far as the ankles. Lucky she'd in- 
 vested in a generous fur-lined wrap to go with 
 it, or I wouldn't have stirred a step until we'd 
 draped her in a rug or something. I ain't 
 sayin' much about the feather affair clamped 
 around her head in place of a hat; only it re- 
 minds me of an Indian war bonnet that's been 
 through a hard blow. 
 
 " Well, Bayard," says she, floatin' up to us 
 wabbly on her high heels, " you see I'm 
 ready. ' ' 
 
 " Ye-e-es," says Steele draggy. And while 
 I pushes the Major to the front almost by main 
 strength, J. Bayard presents him. 
 
 After that, though say, I don't know when 
 I've seen two parties indulge in such a long and 
 earnest look at each other as Major Ben and 
 Mrs. Hollister did then. While the Major 
 flushes rosy and hardly has a word to say for 
 himself, he just naturally glues his lamps to 
 her and don't let 'em roam. Believe me too, 
 she was some giddy picture! Wa'n't such a 
 bad looker, you know, in her other rig; but in 
 this zippy regalia well, I got to admit that 
 she's some ripe pippin. Her big brown eyes is 
 sparklin', she's smilin' coy as she looks the 
 Major up and down, and the next thing we know 
 blamed if she ain't cuddled right up to him and 
 remarked kittenish :
 
 BAYARD DUCKS HIS PAST 283 
 
 " You dear man! I'm going to let you take 
 me out to the cab." 
 
 Well, that was the programme from then on. 
 It was the Major and Mrs. Hollister first, with 
 me and J. Bayard trailin' on behind. We'd 
 had some debate beforehand as to whether this 
 should be a dry dinner or not, endin' by Steele 
 announcin' he was goin' to take a chance on 
 Martinis anyhow. Does she shy at the appe- 
 tizer? Say, she was clinkin' glasses with the 
 Major before J. Bayard has a chance to reach 
 for his. Same way with the fizz that J. B. has 
 put in a hurry order for. 
 
 11 Bored to death, ain't she? " I remarks 
 behind my hand. 
 
 And before the fillet of sole was served the 
 Major had unlimbered his conversation works, 
 and that pair was havin' about the chattiest 
 time of any couple in the place, with me and J. 
 Bayard stranded on the side lines. 
 
 " Do you know, my dear Major," we hears 
 her announce about nine-fifteen, as she toys 
 with a three-dollar portion of roast pheasant, 
 " I had no idea New York could be like this. 
 Then there are the theaters, the opera. I 
 believe I shall stay up for the rest of the 
 season." 
 
 " Good! " says the Major. " I shall stay 
 too." 
 
 Half an hour later, while he was showin' her 
 how to burn brandy on her demitasse, I nudges 
 Steele.
 
 284 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 " Say," I whispers, "me for a spot where I 
 ain't formin' a crowd! " 
 
 Steele takes a hasty glance at 'em. " I I'm 
 with you," says he. 
 
 " What! " says I. " Goin' to hand him over 
 to her! " 
 
 He nods. " Well," says I, " I guess that'll 
 pass for a kind deed." 
 
 " Also somewhat of a generous one," says 
 he, exhihitin' the footin' of the dinner bill he's 
 just settled for. 
 
 I don 't think they noticed, either of 'em, when 
 we did our sneak. Once outside, J. Bayard 
 takes a long breath, like he was relieved at 
 havin' shifted something. Then he sort of 
 sighs. 
 
 " Poor old Ben! " says he. 
 
 ' ' Gwan ! ' ' says I. ' l You never can tell. 
 Maybe he'll like playin' the devoted slave act 
 for the rest of his life. Besides, she's on a 
 new tack. The Major's quite a husk too. I'll 
 bet he don't qualify for any memorial window. 
 Not him!"
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 TRAILING DUDLEY THROUGH A TRANCE 
 
 THE Adamses hadn't been in the neighbor- 
 hood two weeks before Sadie's discovered 
 Veronica and was ravin' over her. " Isn't 
 she perfectly stunning, Shorty! " she demands. 
 
 " Now that you mention it, I expect she is," 
 says I, playin' safe and foxy. It's a useful 
 phrase to pull in such cases ; but here was once 
 when I must have worked it overtime. Sadie 
 sniffs. 
 
 " Pooh! " says she. " Just as though you 
 couldn't see for yourself! Don't be absurd, 
 Shorty." 
 
 " Gee! but you're hard to suit! " says I " If 
 I remember right, the last time I got enthusi- 
 astic over the looks of a young queen you 
 wrinkled your nose and made remarks about 
 my taste." 
 
 " It was that snippy little Marjorie Lowry 
 with the baby face, wasn't it? " says she. " Oh, 
 very well, if you prefer that kind. Just like a 
 man! " 
 
 " Do I have to pick either one? " says I. "I 
 hope not; for, between you and me, Sadie, I'm 
 satisfied as it stands." 
 
 285
 
 286 SHOKTY McCABB ON THE JOB 
 
 " Goose! " says slie, snugglin' up forgivin'. 
 " And would you guess it? they say she's 
 twenty-six! I wonder why she isn't married? ' 
 
 " There you go! " says I. "I could see it 
 comin'." 
 
 " But she is such an attractive girl," goes 
 on Sadie, " so well poised, graceful, dignified, 
 all that! And she has such exquisite coloring, 
 and such charming manners ! ' ' 
 
 Yep, I guess it was all so. One of these 
 wavin' palm models, Veronica was, tall and 
 willowy, with all the classy points of a heroine 
 in a thirty-five-cent magazine serial, dark 
 eyes, dark, wavy hair, good color scheme in her 
 cheeks, the whole bag of tricks, and specially 
 long on dignity. Say, she had me muffled from 
 the first tap of the bell, and you know how apt 
 I am to try to break that sort of spell with 
 a few frivolous cracks. Not when Veronica 
 swings on me with that calm gaze of hers, 
 though ! 
 
 For Sadie don't do a thing but call on the 
 Adamses, give a tea for Veronica, and proceed 
 to round up all the Johnnies in sight to meet 
 her. It's her reg'lar campaign, you know. 
 
 " Ah, why not let the poor girl alone? " says 
 I. " Maybe she's got one in trainin' some- 
 where herself. There's no tellin', too, but what 
 she's stayin' single from choice." 
 
 " Humph! " says Sadie. " Only the homely 
 ones are entitled to give that excuse, because 
 they have no other; and only a stupid man
 
 TEAZLING DUDLEY 287 
 
 would believe it in either case. I suppose Miss 
 Adams hasn't married because the right man 
 hasn't asked her. Sometimes they don't, you 
 know. But it's a perfect shame, and if I can 
 help the right one to find her I'm going to do 
 it." 
 
 " Sure you are," says I. " That's the skirt 
 instinct. But, say, while the men still have the 
 vote all to themselves they ought to revise the 
 game laws by declarin' a close season on bache- 
 lors, say from the fifteenth of August to the 
 fifteenth of December." 
 
 " Too bad about the young men, isn't it! " 
 says Sadie. " Anyone would think we set traps 
 for them." 
 
 " Show me a trap easier to fall into and 
 harder to get out of," says I, " and I'll make 
 my fortune by puttin' it on the market as a 
 new puzzle. But blaze ahead. I ain't worryin'. 
 I'm on the inside lookin' out, anyway. Wish a 
 hubby on her if you can." 
 
 And I must say it ain't any amateur effort 
 Sadie puts over. From far and near she rounds 
 'em up on one excuse or another, and manages 
 to have 'em meet Veronica. She don't take 
 'em miscellaneous or casual, like she would for 
 most girls. I notices that she sifts 'em out skill- 
 ful, and them that don't come somewhere near 
 the six-foot mark gets the gate early in the 
 game. You catch the idea? Course, nobody 
 would expect Veronica to fall for any stunted 
 Eomeo that would give her a crick in the
 
 288 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 back when it come to nestlin' her head on his 
 shoulder. 
 
 So with size added to the other elimination 
 tests it must have made hard scratchin' at 
 times. But somehow or other Sadie produces 
 a dozen or more husky young chaps with good 
 fam'ly connections and the proper financial 
 ratin's. Among 'em was a polo player, two 
 ex-varsity fullbacks, and a blond German mili- 
 tary aide that she borrowed from a friend in 
 Washington for the occasion. She tries 'em out 
 single and in groups, using Mrs. Purdy-PelPs 
 horseshow box and town house as liberal as 
 railroad waitin' rooms. And, say, when it 
 comes to arrangin' chance tete-atetes, and cozy 
 little dinner parties where the guests are placed 
 just right, she develops more ingenuity than a 
 lady book agent runnin' down her victims. Talk 
 about shifty work! She makes this fly-and- 
 spider fable sound clumsy. 
 
 Course, she had a cinch in one way. All she 
 has to do is exhibit Veronica in some public 
 place, and she has every man in sight twistin' 
 his neck. They dropped for her at the first 
 glimpse. It didn't need any elaborate scenic 
 effects to cause a stampede, either; for the 
 simpler she gets herself up the more dangerous 
 she is, and in a plain black velvet dress, with 
 an old lace collar cut a little low in front, all 
 she lacks is a gold frame and a number to look 
 like a prize portrait at the National Academy. 
 Say, I ain't got much of an eye that way my-
 
 TEAZLING DUDLEY 289 
 
 self, but the first time I saw her in that rig I 
 held my breath for two minutes on a stretch, 
 and just gawped. 
 
 Another thing that helped was the fact that 
 Veronica could sing, no common parlor war- 
 blin', mind you, of such pieces as " The 
 Eosary " or " Land of the Sky Blue Water," 
 but genuine operatic stuff, such as you hear 
 Louise Homer and Schumann-Heink shootin' 
 on the three-dollar records. Why not? Hadn't 
 Veronica studied abroad for two years under 
 Parcheesi, who'd begged her almost on his 
 knees to do the title role in a new opera he was 
 goin' to try out before the King of Bavaria? 
 Uh-huh! We had that straight from Mrs. 
 Adams, who wa'n't much for boostin' the 
 fam'ly. But no stagework for her! 
 
 In private, though, Veronica was good-na- 
 tured and obligin'; so it was an easy after-din- 
 ner cue for a young gent to lead her to the 
 piano and persuade her to tear off a few little 
 operatic gems, while he leaned on one elbow and 
 gazed soulful at her. And I expect they didn't 
 have to know such a lot about grand opera to 
 play the leanin' part, either. 
 
 Just how much tumult was caused under 
 dress shirt fronts durin' them few weeks I 
 couldn't say for certain, but at least four or five 
 of the young gents had bad attacks. The odd 
 thing about it, though, was the sudden way they 
 dropped out. One day they'd be sendin' her 
 flowers, and followin' her around to teas and
 
 290 SHOETY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 lunches and dances, gazin' longin' at her every 
 chance they got, and displayin* the usual mush 
 symptoms, and the next they wouldn't show up 
 at all. They'd disappeared. 
 
 That's what puzzled Sadie so much at first. 
 She couldn't make out what had happened, 
 whether they'd got rash and gone on the rug too 
 soon, or had been run over by a truck while 
 crossin' the street. Fin'ly she comes across 
 one of the quitters one afternoon as I'm towin' 
 her down Fifth-ave. on her way home from 
 somewhere, and she puts me up to give him the 
 quiz. 
 
 " There, Shorty! " says she, stoppin' sud- 
 den. " There's Monty Willetts, who was so 
 crazy about Veronica. No one has seen him 
 for a week. Couldn't you ask if anything se- 
 rious has happened to him? v 
 
 I expect her idea was for me to put him 
 through the third degree so subtle he wouldn't 
 suspect. Well, leavin' Sadie gazin' into a 
 jew'lry window, I overhauls him and does my 
 best. 
 
 " Say, Monty," says I, jabbin' him playful 
 in the ribs, " how about you and that Miss 
 Adams? Did you follow her to the frost line, 
 or what? " 
 
 II That's an excellent way to put it, Mo- 
 Cabe," says he. " And I'm chilly yet from the 
 experience. ' ' 
 
 " Sporty lad! " says I. " Did you try to 
 hold her hand, or something like that? '
 
 TRAILING DUDLEY 291 
 
 " What! " lie gasps. " Try to hold hands 
 with the stately Miss Adams! Heaven forbid! 
 I'm not absolutely reckless, you know. It was 
 in our first confidential chat that I went on the 
 rocks. We'd discussed polo for half an hour, 
 until I found she knew more about the English 
 team than I did. Why, she'd visited at Hurl- 
 ingham House during the practice matches. So 
 I floundered about, trying to shift the subject, 
 until we hit on antique vases deuced if I know 
 why. But my Governor dabbled in such junk 
 a bit, you know, and I suppose I thought, from 
 having heard him talk, that I was up on an- 
 tiques. But, say, hanged if she couldn't name 
 more kinds than I ever knew existed I Rippled 
 on about Pompeian art, and Satsuma ware, and 
 Egyptian tear jugs as readily as Ted Keefe, 
 my stable manager, would about ponies. I tried 
 again and asked if she'd seen many of the new 
 plays, and the next thing I knew I was bluffing 
 through a dialogue about Galsworthy and Mase- 
 field and Sudermann on an experience strictly 
 limited to musical comedies and Belasco's lat- 
 est. Whe-e-e-ew ! I made my escape after that. 
 Say, isn't it a shame a girl with eyes like hers 
 should know so blamed much? " 
 
 I couldn't help grinnin' at Monty, and when 
 I picks up Sadie again I gives her the diag- 
 nosis. 
 
 " Case of springin' the highbrow chatter on 
 a sportin' chappy that wears a fifteen and a 
 half collar and a six and three-quarters hat,"
 
 says I. " He's as thankful as if he'd come 
 through a train wreck with his cigarette still 
 lighted. You ought to tip Veronica to chop her 
 lines and work the spell with her eyes." 
 
 " Pooh! " says Sadie. " Monty never had a 
 chance, anyway. You can't expect a brilliant 
 girl like Veronica to be satisfied with a husband 
 who's at his best only when he's knocking a goal 
 or leading a hunt, even if he is big and hand- 
 some." 
 
 But with this as a clew I figured out how two 
 or three of the other candidates came to side- 
 step so abrupt. The average Johnny is all 
 right so long as the debate is confined to 
 gossipy bits about the latest Reno recruits, or 
 who's to be asked to Mrs. Stuyve Fish's next 
 dinner dance; but cut loose on anything serious 
 and you have him grabbin' for the lifeline. 
 
 There was two, though, that came through 
 to the finals, as you might say. One was this 
 German guy, Baron Dusseldorf ; and the other 
 was young Beverley Duer, whose fad is takin' 
 movin' pictures of wild animals in their native 
 jungles and givin' private movie shows in the 
 Plaza ballroom. Some strong on the wise con- 
 versation himself, Beverley is. He paints a bit, 
 plays the 'cello pretty fair, has a collection of 
 ivory carvin's, and has traveled all over the 
 lot. You can't faze him with the snappy 
 repartee, either; for that's his specialty. 
 
 As for the Baron, his long suit was listenin'. 
 He was a bear for it. He'd sit there, big and
 
 TRAILING DUDLEY 293 
 
 ornamental, with his light blue eyes glued on 
 Veronica, takin' it all in as fast as she could 
 feed it to him, and lookin' almost intelligent. 
 Course, when he did try a comeback in English 
 he chopped his words up comic; but he could 
 speak four other languages, and Veronica 
 seemed pleased enough to find someone she 
 could practice her French and German on. 
 
 For awhile there I'd have picked either of 
 the two as a winner; only I couldn't just make 
 up my mind which would get the decision. But 
 somehow the affair don't seem to progress the 
 way it should. Each one appeared to get about 
 so far, and then stick. They both seemed 
 anxious enough too ; but just as one would take 
 an extra spurt Veronica would somehow cool 
 him down. She didn't seem to be playin' one 
 against the other, either. Looked like careless 
 work to me. Sadie gets almost peeved with 
 her. 
 
 Then one night at our house a lot of the mys- 
 tery was cleared up by some friendly joshin' 
 across the dinner table. We had all the 
 Adamses there that evenin', Pa Adams, a tall, 
 dignified, white-whiskered old sport, who looked 
 like he might have been quite a gay boy in his 
 day; Mother, a cheery, twinklin '-eyed, rather 
 chubby old girl ; and Veronica, all in white satin 
 and dazzlin' to look at. Also Sadie had asked 
 in Miss Prescott, an old maid neighbor of ours, 
 who's so rich it hurts, but who's as plain and 
 simple as they come. She's a fruit preservin'
 
 294 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 specialist, and every fall her and Sadie gets 
 real chummy over swappin' cannin' receipts. 
 
 About five P.M., though, Miss Prescott 'phones 
 over her regrets, sayin' how her nephew had 
 arrived unexpected; so of course she gets the 
 word to bring Dudley Byron along with her. 
 Emerson, his last name is, and while I hadn't 
 seen much of him lately we'd been more or less 
 friendly when he was takin' special post-gradu- 
 ate work at some agricultural college and was 
 around home durin' vacations. An odd, quiet 
 chap, Dudley Byron, who never figured much 
 anywhere, one of the kind you can fill in with 
 reckless and depend on not to make a break or 
 get in the way. He's a slim, sharp-faced young 
 gent, with pale hair plastered down tight, and 
 deep-set gray eyes that sort of wander around 
 aimless. 
 
 It might have been kind of dull if it hadn't 
 been for the Adamses; but Veronica and her 
 Pa are lively enough to wake up any crowd. 
 They're gen 'rally jollyin' each other about 
 something. This time what started it was 
 someone remarkin' about a weddin' that was 
 to be pulled off soon, and how the bride was 
 to be the last of five daughters. 
 
 "Fortunate parent!" says Pa Adams. 
 " Five! And here I've been unable to get rid 
 of one." 
 
 " You didn't begin early enough," comes 
 back Veronica. " Do you know, Mrs. McCabe, 
 when I was nineteen Daddy used to be so afraid
 
 TRAILING DUDLEY 295 
 
 I would be stolen away from him that he would 
 almost lie in wait for young men with a shot- 
 gun. After I passed twenty-four he began 
 meeting them at the gate with a box of cigars 
 in one hand and a shaker full of cocktails in the 
 other. ' ' 
 
 Pa Adams joins in the laugh. " It's quite 
 true," says he. " For the last two or three 
 years Mother and I have been doing our best to 
 marry her off. We gave up the United States 
 as hopeless, and carted her all over Europe. 
 No use. Even younger sons wouldn't have her. 
 Now we're back again, trying the dodge of 
 staying longer in one place. But I fail to see 
 any encouraging signs." 
 
 "I'm sure I've tried to do my part too," 
 says Veronica, smilin' gay. " I really shouldn't 
 mind being married. My tastes are wholly 
 domestic. But, dear me, one must find some- 
 where near the right sort of man, you know! 
 
 And so far " She ends with a shrug of her 
 
 white shoulders and a puckerin' of her rosy 
 lips. 
 
 " Poor Baron! " sighs Sadie, teasin'. 
 
 " I know," says Veronica. " And what a 
 big, handsome creature he is too! But I fear 
 I'm not equal to carrying on a lifelong mono- 
 logue." 
 
 " Surely that wouldn't be the case with 
 Beverley Duer," suggests Sadie. 
 
 " Isn't he entertaining! " says Veronica en- 
 thusiastic. " But wouldn't it be a bit selfish,
 
 296 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 appropriating all that brilliance just for one- 
 self! And could it be done? I'm afraid not. 
 About once a month, I imagine, Beverley would 
 need a new audience. Besides well, I'm sure I 
 don't know; only I don't seem thrilled in the 
 way I ought to be." 
 
 With chat like that bein' batted back and 
 forth, I expect I wa'n't takin' much notice of 
 Dudley Byron, who's sittin' quiet between me 
 and Aunty ; but all of a sudden he leans over 
 and whispers eager : 
 
 " Isn't she perfectly splendid, though? " 
 
 " Eh? " says I, tearin' myself away from 
 what's still goin' on at the other end of the 
 table. "Oh! Miss Adams? Sure, she's a 
 star." 
 
 " I I would like to know her better," says 
 Dudley, sort of plaintive. 
 
 " Crash in, then," says I.- "No opposition 
 here." 
 
 I thought I was bein' humorous ; for Dudley's 
 about as much of a lady's man as he is a heavy 
 shot putter. I never knew of his lookin' twice 
 at a girl before; but to-night he seems to be 
 makin' up for lost time. All durin' the rest of 
 the meal he does the steady, admirin' gaze at 
 Veronica. He don't try to hide it, either, but 
 fixes them gray eyes of his her way and neglects 
 to eat five perfectly good courses. When we 
 adjourns to the livin' room for coffee he keeps 
 it up too. Couldn't have been much suddener 
 if he'd been struck by lightnin'.
 
 TRAILING DUDLEY 297 
 
 I don't know how many others noticed it, but 
 it was as plain as day to me that Dudley Byron 
 is on the point of makin' a chump of himself. 
 I begun to feel kind of sorry for him too; for 
 he's a decent, well meanin' young chap. So I 
 edges around where I can get a word with him 
 on the side. 
 
 I 1 Come out of the trance, Dudley, ' ' says I. 
 
 " I I beg pardon? " says he, startin' guilty. 
 
 " You'll only get your wings singed," says I. 
 " Forget Veronica while there's a chance." 
 
 " But I don't wish to forget her," says he. 
 " She she's beautiful." 
 
 " Ah, what's the use? " says I. " She's 
 mighty particular too." 
 
 " She has every right to be," says Dudley* 
 "What delicious coloring! What a carriage t 
 She has the Bearing of a Queen." 
 
 1 ' Maybe, ' ' says I. ' ' But wouldn 't you rattle 
 around some on a throne? Keep that in mind, 
 Dudley." 
 
 " Yes, yes," says he. "I suppose I must 
 remember how unimpressive I am." 
 
 He's an easy forgetter that evenin', though. 
 When Sadie suggests that Miss Adams favor 
 us, blessed if it ain't Dudley who's right there 
 doin' the music turnin' act. I wonder how 
 many others has struck that same pose, and 
 lost good sleep thinkin' it over afterwards? 
 But never a one, I'll bet, that looked like such 
 a hopeless starter. 
 
 He seemed to be enjoyin' it as much as any,.
 
 298 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 though. And afterwards, when the other four 
 settles themselves around the card table for the 
 usual three rubbers, blamed if Dudley don't 
 have the nerve to tow Veronica into the next 
 room, stretchin' on tiptoe to talk earnest in her 
 ear. 
 
 I could guess what it was all about. Veronica 
 had a nice way of soundin' people for their 
 pet hobbies, and she must have got Dudley 
 started on his; for it's the only subject I 
 ever knew him to get real gabby over. And 
 you'd never guess from his looks what it was. 
 FarminM 
 
 Course he ain't doin' the reg'lar Rube kind, 
 hay and hogs, hogs and hay. He goes at it 
 scientific, one of these book farmers, you un- 
 derstand. Establishin' model farms is his fad. 
 Dudley told me all about it once, intensive cul- 
 tivation, soil doctorin', harvestin' efficiency, all 
 such dope, with a cost-bearin' side line to fall 
 back on in the winter. 
 
 Not that he needs the money, but he says he 
 wants to keep busy and make himself useful. 
 So his scheme is to buy up farms here and there, 
 take each one in turn, put it on a payin' basis 
 by studyin' the best stuff to raise and gettin' 
 wise to the market, and then showin' his neigh- 
 bors how to turn the trick too. No rollin' out 
 at four A.M. to milk the cows for Dudley! He 
 hires a good crew at topnotch wages, and puts 
 in his time plannin' irrigatin' ditches, experi- 
 mentin' with fertilizers, doin' the seed testing
 
 BLAMED IF DUDLEY DON'T HAVE THE NERVE TO TOW 
 
 VERONICA INTO THE NEXT ROOM, STRETCHIN' 
 
 ON TIPTOE TO TALK IN HER EAR.
 
 TRAILING DUDLEY 299 
 
 and readin' government reports; even has a 
 farm bookkeeper. 
 
 Then when cold weather comes, instead of 
 turnin' off his help, he springs his side line, 
 maybe workin' up the wood lot into shippin' 
 crates, or developin' a stone quarry. Last I 
 heard he was settin' out willows he'd imported 
 from Holland, and was growin' and makin' 
 fancy veranda furniture. He's rung in a whole 
 town on the deal, and they was all gettin' a good 
 thing out of it. Establishing community in- 
 dustries, is the way Dudley puts it. Says 
 every jay burg ought to have one of its 
 own. 
 
 Most likely this was what he was so busy ex- 
 plainin' to Veronica. He's a good talker when 
 he gets started too, and for such a quiet ap- 
 pearin' chap he can liven up a lot. Must have 
 been goin' into the details deep with her; for 
 they don't come back and they don't come 
 back. I'd read the evenin' papers, and poked 
 up the log fire half a dozen times, and stood 
 around watchin' the bridge game until I nearly 
 yawned my head off; but they're still missin'. 
 
 I'd just strolled around into the front hall, 
 kind of scoutin' to see if he'd talked her to 
 sleep, or whether she'd come back at him with 
 some brainy fad of her own and was givin' him 
 the chilly spine, when out through the door 
 dashes Dudley Byron, runnin' his fingers 
 through his hair desperate and glarin' around 
 wild.
 
 300 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 " Aha! " says I. 'So you got it too, did 
 you? " 
 
 " McCabe," says he, hoarse and husky, " I 
 I've done a dreadful thing! " 
 
 " Why, Dudley! " says I. "I can't believe 
 it." 
 
 11 But I have," says he, clawin' me on the 
 shoulder. " Oh, I I've disgraced myself! " 
 
 " How? " says I. " Called some German 
 composer out of his right name, or what? " 
 
 " No, no! " says he. " I I can't tell you." 
 
 "Eh?" says I, starin' puzzled. "Well, 
 you'd better." 
 
 " True, I'm your guest," says he. " But 
 but I forgot myself." 
 
 " Ah, cheer up," says I. " Veronica's a 
 good sport. She wouldn't mind if you let slip 
 a cussword." 
 
 " Oh, you don't understand," says Dudley, 
 wringin' his hands. " Really, I have done 
 something awful! " 
 
 "Come, come!" says I. "Let's have it, 
 then." 
 
 " Believe me," says he, "I was carried 
 away, quite intoxicated." 
 
 " Gwan! " says I. " Where 'd you get the 
 stuff? " 
 
 " I mean," says he, " by her wonderful 
 beauty. And then, McCabe, in one moment I 
 I kissed her! " 
 
 "Great guns!" says I. "Didn't plant a 
 reg'lar smack, did you? "
 
 TRAILING DUDLEY 301 
 
 He bows Ms head solemn. " Eight on the 
 lips," says he. " You see, we were talking, 
 her lovely face was very close, her glorious 
 eyes were shining into mine, when suddenly 
 well, it seemed as if I became dizzy, and the 
 next moment I seized her brutally in my arms 
 and and " 
 
 "Good night!" says I, gaspin'. "What 
 did she hit you with? ' 
 
 " I I can't say exactly what happened 
 next," says Dudley. " I think I dropped her 
 and ran out here." 
 
 " Of all the boob plays! " says I. "To take 
 a Brodie plunge like that, and then do the fade- 
 away! " 
 
 " But what must I do now? " groans Dud- 
 ley. " Oh, what can I do? " 
 
 ' ' Is she still in there ? ' ' says I. 
 
 " I I suppose so," says he. 
 
 " Well, so far as I can see," says I, " you got 
 to go back and apologize." 
 
 " What! Now? " says he. 
 
 1 ' Before she has time to sick the old man on 
 you with a gun, ' ' says I. 
 
 "Yes, yes!" says he. "Not that I am 
 afraid of that. I wish he would shoot me! I 
 hope someone does ! But I suppose I ought to 
 beg her pardon." 
 
 " In with you, then! " says I, leadin' him 
 towards the door. 
 
 With his hand on the knob he balks. " Oh, I 
 can't! " says he. "I simply cannot trust my-
 
 302 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 self. If I should try, if I should find myself 
 close to her once more. McCabe, I I might 
 do it all over again." 
 
 " Say, look here, Dudley! " says I. " This 
 ain't a habit you're breakin' yourself of, you 
 know: it's just a single slip you've got to apolo- 
 gize for." 
 
 ' * I know, ' ' says he ; " but you cannot im- 
 agine how madly in love with her I am." 
 
 "I'm glad I can't," says I. 
 
 And, say, he sticks to it. No, Sir, I can't 
 push him in there with Veronica again. I had 
 him out on the front steps for fifteen minutes, 
 tryin' to argue some sense into him; but all he 
 wants to do is go jump off the rocks into the 
 Sound and have me tell Aunty he died disgraced 
 but happy. Fin'ly, though, he agrees to wait 
 while I go sleuthin' in and find whether Vero- 
 nica has rushed in tears to Daddy, or is still 
 curled up on the davenport bitin' the cushions 
 in rage. 
 
 I slips into the livin' room, where I find 'em 
 addin' up the scores and talkin' over the last 
 hand, but otherwise calm and peaceful. Then 
 I opens the door soft into the next room, steps 
 in, and shuts the door behind me. No wild sobs. 
 No broken furniture. There's Veronica, 
 rockin' back and forth under the readin' light, 
 with a book in her lap. 
 
 II "Well! " says I, waitin' breathless for the 
 storm to break. 
 
 She gives a little jump, glances up quick, and
 
 TBAILING DUDLEY 303 
 
 pinks up like a poppy. " Oh! " says she, 
 " It's you? " 
 
 11 Uh-huh," says I. " I er I've just been 
 talkin' with Dudley." 
 
 " Ye-e-es? " says she, rollin' a leaf of the 
 book over her finger nervous and droopin' her 
 long lashes. 
 
 " You see," says I, fidgetin' some on my own 
 account, " he he's goin' home in a minute or 
 two." 
 
 " Oh, is he? " says she. " There! And I 
 meant to ask him if he wouldn't call to-morrow. 
 Won't you do it for me, Mr. McCabe? " 
 
 How about that for a reverse jolt, eh? I 
 backs out of the room lookin' foolish. And 
 Dudley he near collapses when I brings him the 
 glad news. 
 
 As for Sadie, she couldn't believe me at all 
 when I tells her Dudley looks like a sure win- 
 ner. She had to wait until a few days later 
 when she catches 'em just breakin' a clinch, 
 before she'll admit I ain't stringin' her. 
 
 " But a shy, diffident fellow like Dudley! " 
 says she. " I don't see how he did it." 
 
 " Neither does Dudley," says I. " Guess it 
 must have been a case of a guy with the goods 
 comin' across with the swift tackle. Maybe 
 that's what she'd been waitin' for all along."
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 A LITTLE WHILE WITH ALVIN 
 
 I CAN'T say just how I got roped in; whether 
 it was me that discovered Alvin, or him who 
 took to me. Must have been some my fault; 
 for here was a whole subway car full of people, 
 and I'm the one he seems to pick. I might lay 
 it to an odd break, only things of that kind has 
 happened to me so often. 
 
 Anyway, here I am, doin' the strap- swingin' 
 act patient, without makin' any mad dash for 
 a seat at stations, but hangin' on and watchin' 
 the crowds shift sort of curious. You might 
 as well, you know; for if you do get a chance 
 to camp down durin' the rush hours, along 
 comes some fat lady and stands puffin' in front 
 of you, or a thin, tired lookin' one who glares 
 at you over the top of your paper. But if 
 you're a standee yourself you feel free to look 
 any of 'em in the eye. 
 
 And, say, ain't we a glum, peevish, sour 
 lookin' lot, here in New York? You'd most 
 think that showin' any signs of good nature was 
 violatin' a city ordinance, and that all our dis- 
 positions had been treated with acetic acid. 
 Why, by the suspicious looks we give the 
 
 304
 
 A LITTLE WHILE WITH ALVIN 305 
 
 stranger who rubs elbows with us, you might 
 suppose our population was ninety per cent, 
 escaped criminals. 
 
 As the idea struck me I may have loosened 
 my mouth corners a little, or may not. Any- 
 way, as we pulls into 72d-st., and the wild 
 scramble to catch a packed express begins, I 
 finds myself gazin' absentminded at this slim, 
 stoop-shouldered gent in the corner. Next 
 thing I know he's smilin' friendly and pointin' 
 to a vacant seat alongside. 
 
 First off, of course, I thinks he must be 
 someone I've met casual and forgot; but as I 
 slides in beside him and gets a closer view I 
 know that he's one of the ninety-odd millions 
 of unfortunates who, up to date, ain't had the 
 benefit of my acquaintance. In other words, 
 he's one of the common suspects, an utter 
 stranger. 
 
 Course, as far as his looks go, he might be a 
 perfect gent. He's dressed neat and plain, ex- 
 cept for the brown spats ; but as you run across 
 a spat wearer only now and then, you're bound 
 to guess they ain't just right somewhere. The 
 sallow-complected face with the prominent 
 cheekbones don't count so much against him. 
 Them points are common. What caught me, 
 though, was the lively brown eyes with just the 
 hint of a twinkle in 'em. Always does. I know 
 some like the wide-set, stary kind that go with 
 an open-faced smile and a loud haw-haw; but 
 for me the quiet chuckle and the twinklin' eye!
 
 306 ' SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 Still, he hadn't proved yet that he wa'n't a 
 pickpocket or a wife beater; so I just nods 
 non-committal over my shoulder and resumes 
 my usual aristocratic reserve. 
 
 11 How does it happen," says he, " that you 
 aren't on your way to the funeral too! " 
 
 " Eh? " says I, a little jarred at this odd 
 openin'. 
 
 " Or is it that they have all been indulgin' in 
 family rows? Look at them! " he goes on, 
 wavin' his hand at the earful. 
 
 11 Oh, I get you," says I. " Not so cheerful 
 as they might be, are they? " 
 
 11 But is it necessary for us all to be so 
 selfishly sad," says he, " so gloomily stern? 
 True, we have each our troubles, some little, 
 some big; but why wear them always on our 
 faces? Why inflict them on others? Why not, 
 when we can, the brave, kindly smile? " 
 
 " Just the way it struck me a minute ago," 
 says I. 
 
 " Did it? " says he, beamin'. " Then I claim 
 you for our clan." 
 
 " Your which? " says I. 
 
 " Our brotherhood," says he. 
 
 11 Can't be very exclusive," says I, " if I've 
 qualified so easy. Any partic'lar passwords or 
 grip to it? " 
 
 " We rehearsed the whole ritual before you 
 sat down," says he. " The friendly glance, 
 that's all. And now well, I prefer to be called 
 Alvin."
 
 A LITTLE WHILE WITH ALVIN 307 
 
 " So-o-o? " says I sort of distant. But I'd 
 no more 'n got it out than I felt mean. What if 
 he was a con man, or worse ? I ought to be able 
 to take care of myself. So I goes on, " Mc- 
 Cabe's my name; but among friends I'm 
 gen 'rally known as Shorty." 
 
 " The best of credentials! " says he. " Then 
 hail, Shorty, and welcome to the Free Brother- 
 hood of Ego Tamers! " 
 
 I shakes my head puzzled. " Now I've lost 
 you," says I. "If it's a comedy line, shoot 
 it." 
 
 " Ah, but it's only tragedy," says Alvin, 
 " the original tragedy of man. See how its 
 blight rests on these around us ! Simply over- 
 stimulation of the ego; our souls in the strait- 
 jacket of self; no freedom of thought or word 
 or deed to our fellows. Ego, the tyrant, rules 
 us. Only we of the Free Brotherhood are seek- 
 ing to tame ours. Do I put it clumsily? " 
 
 " If you was readin' it off a laundry ticket, 
 it couldn't be clearer," says I. " Something 
 about tappin' the upper-case I too frequent, 
 ain't it? " 
 
 " An excellent paraphrase," says he. " You 
 have it! " 
 
 " Gee! " says I. " Didn't know I was so 
 close behind you. But whisper, I ain't got 
 my Ego on the mat with his tongue out, not 
 yet." 
 
 " And who of us has? " says he. " But at 
 least we give him a tussle now and then. We've
 
 308 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 broken a fetter here and there. We have 
 worked loose the gag." 
 
 Say, he had, all right, or else he'd swallowed 
 it; for as an easy and fluent converse* Alvin 
 headed the bill. Course, it's an odd line he 
 hands out, the kind that keeps you guessin'. In 
 spots it listens like highbrow book stuff, and 
 then again it don't. But somehow I finds it 
 sort of entertainin'. Besides, he seems like 
 such a good-natured, well meanin' gink that I 
 lets him run on, clear to 42d-st. 
 
 11 Well, so long," says I. "I get out 
 here. ' ' 
 
 " To leave me among the Ishmaelites! " Says 
 he. " And I've two useless hours to dispose of. 
 Let me go a way with you? " 
 
 I hadn't counted on annexin' Alvin for the 
 rest of the day, and I expect I could have shook 
 him if I'd tried; but by that time he'd got me 
 kind of curious to know who and what he was, 
 and why. So I tows him over as far as the 
 Physical Culture Studio. 
 
 II Here's where I make some of 'em forget 
 their egos, at so much per," says I, pointin' 
 to the sign. 
 
 " Ah, the red corpuscle method! " says he. 
 " Primitive; but effective, I've no doubt. I 
 must see it in operation." 
 
 And an hour later he's still there, reposin' 
 comf 'table in an office chair with his feet on the 
 windowsill, smokin' cigarettes, and throwin' off 
 chunks of classy dialogue that had Swifty Joe
 
 A LITTLE WHILE ,WITH ALVIN 309 
 
 gawpin' at him like he was listenin' to a foreign 
 language. 
 
 " My assistant, Mr. Gallagher," says I, by 
 way of apologizin'. 
 
 Alvin jumps up and shakes him hearty by the 
 mitt. ' * Allow me to offer you a cigarette, Sir, ' ' 
 says he. 
 
 " Much obliged," says Swifty, eyin' the thin 
 silver case with the gold linin'. " Gee! what 
 a swell box ! ' ' 
 
 " Do you fancy it! " says Alvin. li Then it 
 is yours, with my best compliments." 
 
 " Ah-r-r-r chee, no! " protests Swifty. 
 
 " Please, as a favor to me," insists Alvin, 
 pushin' the case into his hand. " One finds 
 so few ways of giving pleasure. In return I 
 shall remember gratefully the direct sincerity 
 of your manner. Charming! " 
 
 And, say, I expect it's the first time in his 
 whole career that anybody ever discovered any 
 good points about Swifty Joe Gallagher on first 
 sight. He backs out with his mouth open and 
 his face tinted up like an old maid's that's been 
 kissed in the dark. 
 
 But that little play only makes it all the 
 harder for me to shoo him out. The fact is, 
 though, it's gettin' almost time for a directors' 
 meetin' that's to be pulled off in my front office. 
 Sounds imposing don't it? Didn't know I was 
 on a board, eh? Well, I am, and up to date it's 
 been one of the richest luxuries I ever blew 
 myself to. I'd been roped, that's all.
 
 310 SHOBTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 Young Blair Woodbury, one of my downtown 
 reg'lars, had opened the cellar door for me. 
 Thinks he's a great promoter, Blair does. And 
 somewhere he'd dug up this nutty inventor 
 with his milk container scheme. Oh, it listens 
 good, the way he put it. Just a two-ounce, 
 woodpulp, mailin' cartridge lined with oiled 
 paper, that could be turned out for a dollar a 
 thousand, pint and quart sizes, indestructible, 
 absolutely sanitary, air tight, germ proof, and 
 so on. 
 
 Simple little thing; but it was goin' to put 
 the Milk Trust out of business inside of six 
 months, set back the high cost of livin' a full 
 notch, give every dairy farmer an automobile, 
 and land the Universal Container Company's 
 stockholders at No. 1 Easy-st. For, instead of 
 .payin' two prices for an imitation blend doc- 
 tored up with formaldehyde, you got the real, 
 creamy stuff straight from the farm at five a 
 quart, and passed in at the front door with 
 your morning mail. Didn't the parcel post 
 bring your drygoods? Why not your milk? 
 And when it got to be common the- P.O. De- 
 partment would put on carts for a six A.M. de- 
 livery. There you are! 
 
 So I'd subscribed for a thousand shares, 
 payin' fifty per cent, down for development ex- 
 penses, the rest on call. Yes, I know. But you 
 should have heard Blair Woodbury pull the 
 prospectus stuff, and describe how the divi- 
 dends would come rollin' in!
 
 A LITTLE WHILE WITH ALVIN 311 
 
 That was six or eight months ago, and we'd 
 stood for two assessments. Then it turned out 
 there was something wrong with the pulp com- 
 pressor dingus that was to have shot out con- 
 tainers at the rate of two hundred a min- 
 ute. Some of us went over to Jersey to see 
 it work; but all it produced while we was 
 there was a groanin' sound and a smell 
 of sour dough. I could have bought out the 
 holdin's of the entire bunch for my return 
 ticket. But the ticket looked above par 
 to me. 
 
 After that our board meetin's wa'n't such 
 gay affairs. A grouchy lot of tinhorn investors 
 we was, believe me; for the parties young Mr. 
 Woodbury had decoyed into this fool scheme 
 wa'n't Standard Oil plutes or any of the Mor- 
 gan crowd: mostly salaried men, witlra couple 
 of dentists, a retail grocer, and a real estate 
 agent! None of us was stuck on droppin' a 
 thousand or so into a smelly machine that 
 wouldn't behave. Maybe it would next time; 
 but we had our doubts. What we wanted most 
 was to get from under, and this meetin' to-day 
 was called to chew over a proposition for 
 dumpin' the stock on the Curb on the chance 
 that there might be enough suckers to go 
 around. It wouldn't be a cheerful seance, 
 either, and bystanders might not be exactly 
 welcome. Misery may like comp'ny; but it 
 don't yearn for a gallery. 
 
 So I has to hint to Alvin that as I had a little
 
 312 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 business meetin' comin' on maybe lie wouldn't 
 find it so entertainin'. 
 
 " Nothing bores me," says he. " Humanity, 
 in all its phases, all its efforts, is interesting." 
 
 " Huh! " says I. " Humanity beefin' over 
 a dollar it's dropped through a crack wouldn't 
 furnish any Easter card scheme. Talk about 
 grouchy people ! You ought to see this bunch, 
 with their egos clutchin' their checkbooks." 
 
 " Ah! " says Alvin. " A financial deal, is 
 it?" 
 
 " It was," says I. " These are the obsequies 
 we're about to hold." 
 
 And he's so prompt with the sympathy dope 
 that I has to sketch the disaster out for him, 
 includin' a description of the container scheme. 
 
 " Why," says he, " that seems quite prac- 
 tical. Rather a brilliant idea, and far too good 
 to be abandoned without a thorough trial. It 
 appeals strongly to me, Friend McCabe. Be- 
 sides, I've had some experience in such affairs. 
 Perhaps I could help. Let me try." 
 
 "I'll put it up to the board," says I. "If 
 
 they say Ah, here comes Doc Fosdick and 
 
 Meyers the grocer now." 
 
 They don't appear arm in arm. In fact, at 
 the last session they'd had a hot run-in; so now 
 they takes chairs on opposite sides of the room 
 and glares at each other hostile. A thin, ner- 
 vous little dyspeptic, Doc Fosdick is; while 
 Meyers is bull necked and red faced. They'd 
 mix about as well as a cruet of vinegar and a
 
 A LITTLE WHILE WITH ALVIN 313 
 
 pail of lard. Course I has to introduce Alvin, 
 and he insists on shakin' hands cordial. 
 
 " You professional chaps," says he to the 
 Doc, " are such fine fellows to know. Ah, a bit 
 crusty on the surface perhaps; but underneath 
 what big hearts! Delighted, Mr. Meyers! 
 One can readily see how you translate good 
 health into good nature. And I congratulate 
 you both on being associated in such a splendid 
 enterprise as this milk container scheme. 
 Bound to be a big thing; for it is founded on the 
 public good. Altruism always wins in the long 
 run, you know, always." 
 
 Doc he tries to sniff disagreeable, and Meyers 
 grunts disapproving but Alvin had 'em goin' 
 for all that. You could tell by the satisfied way 
 the grocer lights up a cigar, and the soothed ac- 
 tions of Fosdick. As the others drops in one 
 by one, Alvin kept on spreadin' seeds of sun- 
 shine, and before the meetin' was called to or- 
 der he was on chummy terms with nearly every- 
 one in the room. The point of whether he was 
 to stay or not wa'n't even raised. 
 
 It was Manning, the real estate man, who 
 sprung the new proposition. " That fool in- 
 ventor Nevins," says he, " insists that if we 
 can give him two weeks more and raise twenty- 
 five thousand, he can perfect his machine and 
 start manufacturing. Now if we could only 
 find buyers for half those unsubscribed 
 shares " 
 
 " Bah! " snorts Fosdick. " Hasn't Wood-
 
 314 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 bury hawked 'em all over town? Why isn't he 
 here now? Tell me that, will you? Because 
 he's done with us! We're squeezed lemons, 
 we are, and he can't find any more to squeeze! " 
 
 " Pardon me," says Alvin, " but I wish to 
 state that I believe fully in this enterprise. It's 
 sound, it's scientific, it's progressive. And 
 while as a rule I don't go in for speculative in- 
 vestments, I shall be very glad, in this instance, 
 providing you all agree to stand by and see it 
 through with me, to take say ten thousand 
 shares at par. In fact, I stand ready to write 
 a check for the full amount this minute. What 
 do you say? ' 
 
 Well, we gasps and gawps at Alvin like so 
 many orphan asylum kids when Santa Glaus 
 bounces in at the Christmas exercises. 
 
 Manning gets his breath back first. " Gen- 
 tlemen," says he, " isn't this offer worth con- 
 sidering? Let's see, did I get your name right, 
 Mr. er " 
 
 " Alvin Pratt Barton," says our Santa 
 Glaus. 
 
 " Pratt Barton? " repeats Manning. " Any 
 connection with the brokerage firm of that 
 name? " 
 
 Alvin shrugs his shoulders and smiles. ' ' The 
 late Mr. Barton was my father," says he. 
 " Mr. Pratt is my uncle by marriage. But I 
 am doing this on my own initiative, you know. 
 I should like an expression of opinion." 
 
 Say, he got it! Inside of three minutes we'd
 
 A LITTLE WHILE WITH ALVIN 315 
 
 voted unanimous to hold on for two months 
 longer, made Alvin vice president of the com- 
 p'ny, and his check has been handed over to 
 the treasurer, which is me. Then he'd shaken 
 hands hearty with each one, patted 'em on the 
 back, and even got Doc Fosdick smilin' amiable 
 as he leaves. 
 
 " Alvin," says I after they'd all gone, " take 
 it from me, you're some pacifier! Why, if it 
 hadn't been for you jumpin' in, I expect we'd 
 jawed away here for hours until we broke up 
 in a free-for-all. Honest, you got the white 
 dove of peace lookin' like a mad fish hawk." 
 
 ' ' Tut, tut ! ' ' says Alvin. ' l No spoofing, you 
 know. Really, it takes very little to bring men 
 together; for, after all, we are brothers. Only 
 at times we forget." 
 
 " You mean most of us never remember," 
 says I. " But you're a true sport, anyway, and 
 the least I can do is to blow you to the best 
 lunch on Fifth-ave. Come on." 
 
 He consents ready enough, providin' I'll 
 stroll over to the Grand Central with him first, 
 while he sees about some baggage. We 
 was makin' a dash through the traffic across 
 Sixth-ave. when I misses Alvin, and turns 
 around to find him apologizin' to a young fe- 
 male he 's managed to bump into and spill in the 
 slush just as he fetched the curb. He has his 
 hat off and is beggin' her pardon in his best 
 society way too; although he must have seen 
 at a glance what she was, one of these brassy-
 
 316 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 eyed parties with a "hand-decorated complexion 
 and a hangover breath. 
 
 " Ah, chop the soft stuff! " says she, 
 brushin' the mud off her slit skirt vigorous. 
 11 And next time lamp who you're buttin' into, 
 you pie-faced, turkey-shanked " 
 
 "Well, maybe that's enough of the lady's 
 repartee to quote exact; for the rest wa'n't 
 strictly ladylike. And the more Alvin tries to 
 convince her how sorry he is, the livelier she 
 cuts loose with her tongue, until a crowd col- 
 lects to enjoy the performance. 
 
 "Beat it!" says I, tuggin' Alvin by the 
 arm. 
 
 " Please wait here a moment, Madam," says 
 he, and then starts off, leavin' her starin' after 
 him and still statin' her opinion of him reck- 
 less. He only goes as far as the florist's, next 
 to the corner, and I follows. 
 
 " A dozen of those American beauties 
 quickly, please," says Alvin, fishin' hasty 
 through his pockets. " Oh, I say, McCabe, can 
 you lend me fifteen for a few moments? Thank 
 you. ' ' 
 
 And in a jiffy he's back at the curb, pre- 
 sentin' that armful of roses to Tessie of the 
 tabasco tongue, and doin' it as graceful and 
 dignified as if he was handin' 'em to a Pitts- 
 burgh Duchess. He don't wait for any thanks, 
 either ; but takes me by the arm and hurries off. 
 I had to have one more look, though, and as I 
 glances back she's still standin' there starin'
 
 A LITTLE WHILE WITH ALVIN 317 
 
 at the flowers sort of stupid, with the brine 
 leakin' from both eyes. 
 
 " Alvin," says I, " it's some education to 
 travel with you." 
 
 ."I'm a clumsy ass!' : says he. "Poor 
 wretch! I could think of nothing sensible to 
 do for her. Let's say no more about it. I 
 must get that suitcase from the baggage 
 room." 
 
 He greets the grumpy checkroom tyrant like 
 a friend and brother, and has just slipped him 
 a cigar when a husky-built square-jawed gent 
 steps up behind and taps Alvin familiar on the 
 shoulder. 
 
 Alvin 's jaw sags disappointed for a second as 
 he turns; but he recovers quick and gives the 
 cheerful hail. " Oh, it's you, is it, Scully? " 
 says he. "I thought I'd given you the slip 
 completely this time. Hope I haven't made you 
 a lot of trouble. ' ' 
 
 " Not a bit, Mr. Barton," says Scully. " Youi 
 know it's a change for us, Sir, getting out this 
 way, with all expenses paid. They sent Talcott 
 with me, Sir." 
 
 "Fine!" says Alvin. "Of course I like 
 them all; but I'm glad it happened to be you 
 and Talcott this trip." 
 
 " Hope you're ready to go back, Sir," says 
 Scully. 
 
 " Oh, quite," says Alvin. "I've had a bully 
 good time; but I'm getting a little tired. And, 
 by the way, please remember to have the doctor
 
 318 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 send fifteen dollars to my friend McCabe here. 
 You explain, will you, Scully 1 ? " 
 
 Scully does. " From Dr. Slade's Res- 
 torium," says he, noddin' at Alvin and tappin' 
 his forehead. " Quite a harmless gentleman, 
 Sir." 
 
 " Eh? " says I, turnin' to Alvin. " You 
 from a nut factory <? Good night ! ' ' 
 
 "It's a whim of Uncle's," says Alvin, 
 chucklin'. " He's gone a little cracked over 
 making and saving money. Poor old chap! 
 Ego developed most abnormally. But the 
 Judge he took me before was that kind too ; so 
 I am compelled to live with Dr. Slade. Jolly 
 crowd up there, though. Come along, Scully; 
 we mustn't be late for dinner." 
 
 And off he goes, smilin' contented and 
 friendly at anyone who happens to look his way. 
 Wouldn't that crimp you? 
 
 Course, my first move after gettin' back to 
 the studio was to dig that check of his out of 
 the safe and query the bank. " No account 
 here," the clerk 'phones back prompt, and I 
 could see the Universal Liquid Container 
 Company takin' a final plunge down the coal 
 chute. 
 
 For days, though, I put off callin' the bunch 
 together and announcin' the sad fact. More'n 
 a week went by, and I was still dreadin' to do 
 it. Then here this mornin' in romps young 
 Blair Woodbury, his eyes sparklin' and a broad 
 grin on his face. He's flourishin' a bundle
 
 A LITTLE .WHILE .WITH ALVIN 319 
 
 about the size of a two weeks' fam'ly wash, and 
 as he sees me he lets out a joy yelp. 
 
 " Well, why the riot! " says I. " What 
 you got there? ' 
 
 " Containers! " says he. " Old Nevins has 
 got the compressor working. Sixty seconds to 
 make these, my boy two hundred in one min- 
 ute! Count 'em! " 
 
 " I'll take your word for it," says I. 
 " That's fine, too. But I'm carryin' all the 
 comp'ny stock I can stand. Go out and con- 
 vince some other come-ons." 
 
 " I don't have to," says he. " Why, during 
 the last four days the issue has been oversub- 
 scribed. It was getting that Mr. Barton, of 
 Pratt & Barton, on our list that turned the 
 trick." 
 
 11 Alvin! " I gasps. " Why why, he's only 
 a batty nephew, that they keep under guard. 
 Bughouse, you know. His check's no good." 
 
 " Doesn't matter in the least," says Blair. 
 " He made good bait. We're established, I 
 tell you ! Get the board together, and we '11 let 
 the contracts for the factory. And then well, 
 McCabe, if our stock doesn't hit one hundred 
 and fifty, inside of six months, I I'll eat every 
 one of these! " 
 
 And, say, allowin' for all his extra enthusi- 
 asm, it looks like we stood to win. I expect 
 the other directors '11 be some jarred, though, 
 when they hear about Alvin. I started in to 
 break it to Swifty Joe.
 
 320 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 
 
 11 By the way, Swifty," says I, " you re- 
 member that Barton party who was in here one 
 day? " 
 
 " Mister Barton," says he reprovin*. " Say, 
 he was a reg'lar guy, he was! " 
 
 11 Think so? " says I. 
 
 " Think! " explodes Swifty indignant. 
 ' ' Ahr-r-r chee ! Why, say, any bonehead could 
 see he was a real gent to the last tap of the 
 gong." 
 
 And, say, I didn't have the heart to break the 
 spell. For, after all, adinittin' the state of his 
 belfry, I don't know that many of us has so 
 much on Alvin, at that. 
 
 THE END
 
 LOUIS TRACY'S 
 
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 CYNTHIA'S CHAUFFEUR. Illustrated by Howard Chandltf 
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 jealousy of Dr. Cecil Grantham, who turns out to be a big. blua 
 eyed young woman is very amusing. A clever, realistic story of 
 the American Cow-puncher. 
 
 THE HAPPY FAMILY 
 
 A lively and amusing story, dealing with the adventures of 
 eighteen jovial, big hearted Montana cowboys. Foremost amongst 
 them, we find Ananias Green, known as Andy, whose imaginative 
 powers cause many lively and exciting adventures. 
 
 HER PRAIRIE KNIGHT 
 
 A realistic story of the plains, describing a gay party of Eas- 
 terners who exchange a cottage at Newport for the rougn homeli- 
 ness of a Montana ranch-house. The merry-hearted cowboys, the 
 fascinating Beatrice, and the effusive Sir Redmond, become living, 
 breathing personalities. 
 THE RANGE DWELLERS 
 
 Here are everyday, genuine cowboys, just as they really exist. 
 Spirited action, a range feud between two families, and a Koraeo 
 and Juliet courtship make this a bright, jolly, .entertaining story, 
 without a dull page. 
 THE LURE OF DIM TRAILS 
 
 A vivid portrayal of the experience of an Eastern author, 
 among the cowboys of the West, in search cf "local color" for a 
 new novel. "Bud" Thurston learns many a lesson while following 
 "the lure of the dim trails" but the hardest, and probably the most 
 welcome, is that of love. 
 THE LONESOME TRAIL 
 
 "Weary" Davidson leaves the ranch for Portland, where con- 
 ventional city life palls on him. A little branch of sage brush, 
 pungent with the atmosphere o the prairie, and the recollection of 
 a pair of large brown eyes soon compel his return._. A wholesome 
 'Jove story, 
 
 THE LONG SHADOW 
 
 A vigorous Western story, sparkling with! the free, outdoor, 
 life of a mountain ranch. Its scenes shift rapidly and its actors play 
 the game of life fearlessly and like men. It is a fine love story from 
 start to finish. 
 
 Ask for a complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction. 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26-ra ST., NEW YORK
 
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