suppose it's not the
same party, though they are as alike as two peas. No, I don't care to
meet him. You know one in my position cannot afford to associate with
every Tom, Dick and Harry. Must you toddle? Good-by, dear.

"Cat! Did you get wise to the way I slipped her the sassy roast? Well,
here's down the Irish channel. Varlet, fill up the flagons again. I just
love to sit here and look out at Nature and the railroad tracks and the
brick scows.

"Where do we go from here? You made me think I was back in the business.
Oh, I don't care. Yonkers, over in Westchester County, or we can take
the ferry for Jersey if you want to go out in the wilderness. It makes
not an iota of difference to muh. Just as long as the chauffeur stays
sober. Shall we hike? Lets slip up the drive for a ways. Sadie, are you
ever going to have sense enough to keep your hoofs off those crackers?
Honest, I don't believe your think tank is feeding properly. Why don't
you blow in it and clear it out?

"Sure, I'll caper out to Yonkers if the rest of the crowd want to. I am
just that kind of a fellow. Ain't I, Wilbur, dear? Oh, my, don't for
mercy sakes disturb him. He's hunting locations for the Friar
three-sheets that Mr. Gillen slipped 'em. He's got Mr. McManus' art
studies planted now so that the burg looks like a Kansas town the day
after the number two car of the circus leaves.

"Did you know that they are enlarging the secret tunnel in the new
Friary so that Toxen Worm can get his getaway if the occasion should
arise? Honest, it looks like the front view of the Hoboken tunnel. Oh,
law me, what is that in the offening? Eureka! It's another cafe, or do
muh eyes deceive me? I am athirst, let us rest our weary beast and
partake of a flagon of nut brown ale. Say, I guess I would be bad in
this Shakespeare thing. Alight, fair maids, and nominate your idea
provokers.

"Waiter, follow those people's directions and do not let the mice build
nests under your feet. Sink this and we will then continue our journey.

"Now, Sadie, as a friend I ask you don't do a ballet on them crackers.
Run over the mutt. What care we for life. Gee, the canine is right there
as the artful dodger. Ah! what? Bing! What was that? A puncture! My! For
goodness sake, how long will we be bogged down. Oh, we can wait that
long, can't we, dears? Pipe the yokel. Shall I hand him a game of
chatter? No? Oh, very well.

"Let's have a picnic. Wilbur, get on the job and skid out the l