n, he's standin' doubled up beside a little table
that he's found, with his arms spread out like he was goin' to take a
dive.

"_Messieurs_," says he, "eet ees serve."

"Good!" says I. "I'm just about up to tacklin' a hot lunch. What kind of
a mess have you got here, anyway, Heiney? Any alum in it? Blamed if I
don't make you put away the whole shootin' match if it ain't good!"

How's that? Well, say, I couldn't name it, or say whether it was a stew,
fry or an omelet, but for an impromptu sample of fancy grub it was a
little the tastiest article I ever stacked up against.

"Why!" says Jarvis, smackin' his lips after the third forkful. "It's _ris
de veau_, isn't it?"

"But yes, monsieur!" says Heiney, his face lightin' up. "Eet ees _ris de
veau grille, a la financier_."

"And what's that in English?" says I.

"In Englise," says Heiney, shruggin' his shoulders, "eet ees not exist.
Eet ees Parisienne."

"Bully for Paris, then!" says I. "Whatever it might be if it could be
naturalized, it touches the spot. I take it all back, Heiney. You're the
shiftiest chef that ever juggled a fryin' pan. A refill on the riddy-voo,
seal-voo-plate."

Well, what do you guess! Jarvis engages Heiney on the spot, and an hour
later they've started for Blenmont, both of 'em actin' like they thought
this was a good world to live in, after all.

Yesterday me and Sadie accepts a special invite out there to dinner; and
it was worth goin' out to get. From start to finish it was the finest
that ever happened. Afterwards Jarvis has Heiney come up from the kitchen
and show himself while we drinks his good health. And say, in his white
togs and starched linen cap, he's got the chef on the canned goods ads.
lookin' like a hash rustler in a beanery.

As for Jarvis, he's got the pink back in his cheeks, and is holdin' his
chin up once more, and when we left in the mornin' he was out bossin' a
couple of hundred lab'rers that was takin' that hill in wheelbarrows and
cartin' it off where it wouldn't interfere with the lake.

"Shorty," says he, "I don't know how you did it, but you've made me a
sane man again, and I owe you more than----"

"Ah, chuck it!" says I. "It was curin' Heiney that cured you."

"Really?" says he. "Then you are a believer in homeopathic
psychotherapeutics?"

"Which?" says I. "Say, write that down on my cuff by syllables, will you?
I want to spring it on Swifty Joe."

CHAPTER XIV

A TRY-OUT FOR TOODLEISM

Eh