r.

I was sorry to lose the Boss, though. "It's me to go back to trainin'
four flush comers again," says I, when he'd gone. And say, I wa'n't
feelin' gay over the prospect. Some of these mitt artists is nice,
decent boys, but then again you'll find others that you can't take much
pride in.

You see, I'd been knockin' around for months with someone who was clean
all the way through--washed clean, spoke clean, thought clean--and now
there was no tellin' what kind of a push I'd fall in with. You've had a
peek at trainin' camps, eh? Them rubbers is apt to be a scousy lot. It
was the goin' back to eatin' with sword swallowers that came hardest,
though. I can stand for a good many things, but when I sees a guy
loadin' up his knife for the shovel act, I rubs him off my list.

I was goin' over all this, on the way down to the office of that lawyer
the Boss wanted me to see. I'd met him a few times, so when I sends in
my name there wa'n't any waitin' around in the ante-room with the office
boy.

"Bring Mr. McCabe right in," says he. "Mister McCabe," mind you. He's
one of those wiry, brisk little chaps, with x-ray eyes, and a voice like
a telephone bell. "Ah, yes!" says he, takin' the letter. "I know about
that--some stock I was to turn into cash. Franklin!" he sings out.
Franklin comes in like he'd come through a tube. "Bring me Mr. McCabe's
bank book."

"Bank book!" says I. "I guess you've dipped into the wrong letter file.
I don't sport any bank book."

"Perhaps you didn't yesterday," says he, "but to-day you do."

And say, what do you think the Boss had gone and done? Opened an
account in my name, and fatted it up good and sweet, as a starter.

"But he didn't owe me anything like that," says I.

"A difference of opinion, Mr. McCabe," says the lawyer. "'For services
rendered,' that was the way his instructions to me read. I sold the
stock and made the deposit to your credit. That's all there is to it.
Good day. Call again."

And the next thing I knew I was goin' down in the elevator with me fist
grippin' that bank book like it was a life raft. First off I has to go
and have a look at the outside of that bank. That's right, snicker. But
say, I've had as much dough as that before, only I'd always carried it
in a bundle. There's a lot of difference. Every tinhorn sport has his
bundle, you know; but it's only your real gent that can flash a check
book. I could feel my chest swellin' by the minute.

"Shorty," says I,