this one," butts in the wife. "Have you seen her
lately?"

"No!" says Alex, jumpin' up. "By mackerel, I haven't! Hurry up, we'll
be late--you people is never in time for anything! Lillian Dish, hey?
Say! Did you see her in 'What's a Wife?' She was great! Why I--"

I dragged the both of them out.

Promptly at seven the next night Alex comes up with his new-found
friend. I let forth a groan and told the maid to lay a couple more
plates, but to slice everything as thin as possible without cuttin' her
hands. The stranger was a tall, slim bird which wouldn't have been
bad-looking if he hadn't been so serious. He acted like it was a
felony to smile, and got my name wrong the first four times he repeated
it.

Well, after the sound of clashin' knives and forks had died away, the
wife dolls all up and goes over to visit the hero which wed Alex; and
us strong men repairs to the parlor, where the cigars clink merrily and
the like.

The stranger's name turned out to be S. Jared Rushton, and after a
while I figured the "S" stood for "Silly." This guy knowed more about
figures than the stage manager at the Follies. He was a hound for
numbers, dates and etc. He had a better memory than a loan shark, and
a encyclopedia would look stupid alongside of him. No matter what the
subject was, this guy knowed more about it than the bird which wrote it
and would butt in with the figures to prove it. Fin'ly, when I struck
a match and he tells me they is 9,765,543 of them used in New York
every fiscal year, I went out into the kitchen for air!

[Illustration: I struck a match and he tells me they is 9,765,543 of
them used in New York every fiscal year.]

At first it was kinda interestin' and entertainin' to get the inside
dope on _everything_ at practically no cost, but they is such a thing
as bein' _too_ clever; and when it become impossible to speak of
anything on earth from bankin' to beer, without this bird buttin' in
with all the figures on it, I got enough! I tried to yawn him into
goin' home, and he notices I got two bum teeth. That furnished him
with a scenario for tellin' me that every year 490,517 people is
treated by dentists in New York alone, and I says I can't help it and
he mustn't of got a wink or sleep the night he counted 'em.

"Oh," he says, "it's very simple. I carry all those figures in my
head."

"Why not?" I says. "They's plenty of room there!"

He looked kinda peeved; but before he could co