wardrobe, as far as he'd laid it
in.

"Did I get let in wrong on the Hermy proposition, eh?" says he. "How
about stayin' with your luck till it turns? Any reminder of the Doughnut
incident in this? What?"

Do I debate the subject? Not me! I just slaps Snick on the back and
wishes him joy. If he wants to credit it all up to a rabbit's foot, or a
clover leaf, I'm willin' to let him. But say, from where I stand, it
looks to me as if nerve and grit played some part in it.

CHAPTER XVIII

JOY RIDING WITH AUNTY

Was I? Then I must have been thinking of Dyke Mallory. And say, I don't
know how you feel about it, but I figure that anybody who can supply me
with a hang-over grin good for three days ain't lived in vain. Whatever
it's worth, I'm on his books for just that much.

I'll admit, too, that this Dyckman chap ain't apt to get many credits by
the sweat of his brow or the fag of his brain. There's plenty of folks
would class him as so much plain nuisance, and I have it from him that
his own fam'ly puts it even stronger. That's one of his specialties,
confidin' to strangers how unpop'lar he is at home. Why, he hadn't been
to the studio more'n twice, and I'd just got next to the fact that he was
a son of Mr. Craig Mallory, and was suggestin' a quarterly account for
him, when he gives me the warnin' signal.

"Don't!" says he. "I draw my allowance the fifteenth, and unless you get
it away from me before the twentieth you might as well tear up the bill.
No use sending it to the pater, either. He'd renig."

"Handing you a few practical hints along the economy line, eh?" says I.

"Worse than that," says Dyke. "It's a part of my penance for being the
Great Disappointment. The whole family is down on me. Guess you don't
know about my Aunt Elvira?"

I didn't, and there was no special reason why I should; but before I can
throw the switch Dyke has got the deputy sheriff grip on the Mallorys'
private skeleton and is holdin' him up and explainin' his anatomy.

Now, from all I'd ever seen or heard, I'd always supposed Mr. Craig
Mallory to be one of the safety vault crowd. Course, they live at Number
4 West; but that's near enough to the avenue for one of the old fam'lies.
And when you find a man who puts in his time as chairman of regatta
committees, and judgin' hackneys, and actin' as vice president of a swell
club, you're apt to rate him in the seven figure bunch, at least.
Accordin' to Duke, though, the Mallory in