ne?"

And Geraldine nods hearty.

"Pinckney, let's shake on that," says I. "Even if your head is full of
soap bubbles, you've got an eighteen-carat heart in you. Hear the news,
Mrs. Truckles?"

"Then--then I'm not to go to jail?" says she, takin' her hands off her
face and lookin' up straight and steady for the first time in months.

"Jail nothin'!" says I. "There's goin' to be a new deal, and you start in
fresh with a clean slate."

"Humph!" snorts Aunt Martha. "Do you expect me to stay here and
countenance any such folly?"

"I'm far too considerate of my relatives for that," says Pinckney.
"There's a train at five-thirty-six."

And, say, to see Mrs. Truckles now, with her gray hair showin' natural,
and her chin up, and a twin hangin' to either hand, and the sleuthy look
gone out of them old eyes, you'd hardly know her for the same party!

These antelope leaps is all right sometimes; but when you take 'em you
want to be wearin' your own shoes.

CHAPTER XIII

HEINEY TAKES THE GLOOM CURE

Two in one day, mind you. It just goes to show what effect the first dose
of hot weather is liable to have on the custard heads. Well, maybe I
oughtn't to call 'em that, either. They can't seem to help gettin' that
way, any more'n other folks can dodge havin' bad dreams, or boils on the
neck. And I ain't any mind specialist; so when it comes to sayin' what'll
soften up a man's brain, or whether he couldn't sidestep it if he tried,
I passes the make.

Now look at this dippy move of Mr. Jarvis's. Guess you don't remember
him. I'd 'most forgot him myself, it's so long since he was around; but
he's the young chap that owns that big Blenmont place, the gent that
Swifty and I helped out with the fake match when he----Well, never mind
that yarn. He got the girl, all right; and as he had everything else
anybody could think of, it should have been a case of lockin' trouble on
the outside and takin' joy for a permanent boarder.

But there the other mornin', just as I was havin' a breathin' spell after
hammerin' some surplus ego out of a young society sport that had the idea
he could box, the studio door opens, and in pokes this Mr. Jarvis, actin'
like he'd been doped.

Now he's a big, husky, full blooded young gent, that's always used
himself well, never collected any bad habits, and knows no more about
being sick than a cat knows about swimmin'. Add to that the fact that
he's one of the unemployed rich, with more money