memorial window to me so many times,--you know, the phony lamp he can do
such stunts with.

He's a smooth boy, Snick is,--too smooth, I used to tell him,--and always
full of schemes for avoidin' real work. For a year or so past he's held
the hot air chair on the front end of one of these sightseein' chariots,
cheerin' the out of town buyers and wheat belt tourists with the flippest
line of skyscraper statistics handed out through any megaphone in town.
They tell me that when Snick would fix his fake eye on the sidewalk, and
roll the good one up at the Metropolitan tower, he'd have his passengers
so dizzy they'd grab one another to keep from fallin' off the wagon.

Yes, I always did find Snick's comp'ny entertainin', and if it hadn't
been more or less expensive,--a visit always meanin' a touch with him,--I
expect I'd been better posted on what he was up to. As it is, I ain't
enjoyed the luxury of seein' Snick for a good many months; when here the
other afternoon, just as I was thinking of startin' for home, the studio
door opens, and in blows a couple of gents, one being a stranger, and the
other this Mr. Butters.

Now, usually Snick's a fancy dresser, no matter who he owes for it. He'll
quit eatin' any time, or do the camel act, or even give up his
cigarettes; but if the gents' furnishing shops are showin' something new
in the line of violet socks or alligator skin vests, Snick's got to sport
the first ones sprung on Broadway.

So, seein' him show up with fringes on his cuffs, a pair of runover tan
shoes, and wearin' his uniform cap off duty, I can't help feelin' some
shocked, or wonderin' how much more'n a five-spot I'll be out by the time
he leaves. It was some relief, though, to see that the glass eye was
still in place, and know I wouldn't be called on to redeem the ticket on
that, anyway.

"Hello, Snick!" says I. "Glad you came in,--I was just going. Hope you
don't mind my lockin' the safe? No offense, you know."

"Can it, Shorty," says he. "There's no brace coming this time."

"Eh?" says I. "Once more with that last, and say it slower, so I can let
it sink in."

"Don't kid," says he. "This is straight business."

"Oh!" says I. "Well, that does sound serious. In that case, who's
your--er----Did he come in with you?"

I thought he did at first; but he seems so little int'rested in either
Snick or me that I wa'n't sure but he just wandered in because he saw the
door open. He's a high, well built, fairly