T Square sports didn't find him entertainin', too.
Why, he swallowed all the moldy old bunk yarns they passed over, and when
they couldn't hold in any longer, and just let loose the hee-haws, he
took it good natured, springin' that kind of sad smile of his on 'em, and
not even gettin' red around the ears. So the boss set him to sweepin' the
floors and tendin' the blueprint frames on the roof.

That's the way he broke in. Then a few months later, when they had a rush
of contracts, they tried him out on some detail work. But his drawin' was
too ragged. He was so good natured, though, and so willin' to do anything
for anybody, that they kept him around, mainly to spring new gags on, so
far as I could see.

It wa'n't until he got at some house plans by accident that they found
out where he fitted in. He'd go over a set of them puzzle rolls that mean
as much to me as a laundry ticket, and he'd point out where there was
room for another clothes closet off some chamber here, and a laundry
chute there, and how the sink in the butler's pantry was on the wrong
side for a right handed dish washer, and a lot of little details that
nobody else would think of unless they'd lived in just such a house for
six months or so. Beany the Home Expert, they called him after that, and
before any house plans was O. K.'d by the boss he had to revise 'em.

Then he got to hangin' round the studio after hours, helpin' Swifty Joe
clean up and listenin' to his enlightenin' conversation. It takes a
mighty talented listener to get Swifty started; but when he does get his
tongue once limbered up, and is sure of his audience, he enjoys nothin'
like givin' off his views in wholesale lots.

As for me, I never said a whole lot to Beany, nor him to me; but I
couldn't help growin' to like the cuss, because he was one of them
gentle, quiet kind that you cotton to without knowin' exactly why. Not
that I missed him a lot when he disappeared. Fact was, he just dropped
out, and I don't know as I even asked what had become of him.

I was hearin' now, though. It wa'n't any great tragedy, to start with.
Some of the boys got skylarkin' one lunch hour, and Beany was watchin'
'em, when a lead paper weight he was holdin' slipped out of his hand,
struck the end of a ruler, and flipped it up into his face. A sharp
corner hit him in the eye, that's all. He had the sore peeper bound up
for three or four days before he took it to a hospital.

When he didn't show up agai