't mind, I will tell
you about Judge Waddington and myself at Atlantic City last summer.
Every one in Washington knows the Judge, and hopes that some day
Congress will take up his claim and adjust it satisfactorily. The old
gentleman is about all in, but we are doing what we can for him."

XII

O'BRIEN'S NARRATIVE

"I met him on the Boardwalk, and asked him where he was stopping.

"'Oh, a nice, home-like place--right over there,' indicating its
position by a careless wave of the hand; 'nice place, quiet, no music at
meals, or that sort of thing. Good cooking, no dogs or children. I came
down here to rest. None of the glare and glitter of the Boardwalk hotels
for me; no, sir!'

"'What's the name of your place?' I asked.

"'Hasn't any name--just a private cottage; old Southern family, one or
two paying guests, you know. They have been coming here for years; never
took boarders before, but the head of the house was caught in the
Knicknack Trust affair last fall. Funny how many were hurt by that
bust-up. Nearly all the boys down in Washington say they were stung. As
I remarked, old man Montgomery is rather hard up just now; but proud,
dev'lish proud, sir. I consider it a privilege to be taken in. They have
rented the cottage next door for their guests. Every convenience.'

"All very fine, but the Judge avoided my direct gaze. Seaward he turned
a shifty eye, and I knew that he was lying. He looked depressed and down
at the heel, and bore the signs of recent illness. I led him,
unresisting to the nearest cafe, and properly stimulated, he told me
that the Washington summer had proven too much for him, that the boys
had kindly advanced the wherewithal for a two weeks' stay at the shore,
and that he had been very sick, but already felt like a new man.

"I ordered another.

"'While I am very snugly fixed down here, Patsy,' said he
confidentially, 'I must confess I was a little disappointed in the
location of the cottage. From the picture on the letter-head the waves
seemed to be curling under the Boardwalk onto the lower steps of the
front porch. Every room with a sea view, and no mosquitos, the circular
said. But the printer evidently got hold of the wrong form. We are a
durn sight nearer Atlantic Avenue than the Atlantic Ocean!'

"'Regularly buncoed, eh?' I ventured.

"'As a matter of proximity to the sea, yes. But I am sure the
Montgomerys are not a party to the deceit. They took the printed matter
along