l it would be Some
Splash.

They began to issue daily Bulletins and watched the Case with much
Anxiety because they really liked the Old Scout in spite of his
Eccentricities. When they learned, at the End of a Week, that he had
played Buttermilk to a Standstill all up and down the Quick Lunch
Circuit and was at his Desk every Morning with his Face clean and a
Flower in his Coat, they called a Meeting of the Vigilantes and decided
that the Joke had been carried far enough.

In the meantime, Our Hero had learned two new kinds of Solitaire and
began to call around for a Dish of Tea with some distant Female
Relatives who had long supposed him Dead. Along about the Cocktail
Hour he would find himself sitting first in one Chair and then in
another, but he Cashed big every Morning when he awoke and found that
Henry Katzenjammer was not sitting on the Foot-Board making Faces at
him.

Only, sometimes he would stop on a Corner and look all about him and up
at the Buildings and wonder if the Town had always been as Quiet as at
Present.

After he had stuck for a Fortnight, the desperate Envoys from the
Indian Camp went after him for Keeps. They held it in front of him and
splashed it on his Clothes and begged him to step aboard with them and
go right up to the 18th Floor.

Probably if they had let him alone he would have come sneaking back
into the Reservation to watch the red Whirligigs and pick a few of
those Night-Blooming Martinis, but when they tried to Stampede him,
the old New England Stock asserted itself; so he substituted Rivets
for Straps.

He is now the honored Associate of those who play Cribbage in their
own Homes and eat Apples before turning in. But if you want to get a
Line on his Real Character, just ask the Wet Brothers. They will tell
you that he wasn't there with the Strength of Character, so he simply
sank out of sight.

MORAL: The Way of the Ex-Transgressor is Hard.

OUT OF CLASS B INTO THE KING ROW

Once there was a side street Quartet consisting of Papa and Mamma and
Gordon and Ethel.

The ostensible Stroke Oar of this Domestic Combination was a Graduate
of one of those Towns in which the Occidental Hotel faces the Depot and
all Trains are met by a Popular Drayman wearing a Black Sweater.

When he elbowed his Way into the City, years before, his Assets
consisted of a Paper Valise, a few home-laundered Garments and a small
Volume telling how to win at Cards.

In the refined Home whe