f the chummy kind,
though. He's one of these stiff backed, black haired, brown eyed, quick
motioned, sharp spoken ducks, that wants what he wants when he wants it.
You know. He comes to the studio reg'lar, does his forty-five minutes'
work, and gets out without swappin' any more conversation than is
strictly necessary.

All the information I had picked up about him was that he hailed from up
the State somewhere, and that soon after he struck New York he married
one of the Chetwood girls. And that takes more or less capital to start
with. Guess Vincent had it; for I hear his old man left him quite a wad
and that now he's the main guy of a threshin' machine trust, or something
like that. Anyway, Vincent belongs in the four-cylinder plute class, and
he's beginnin' to be heard of among the alimony aristocracy.

But this ain't got anything to do with the way he happened to get
confidential all so sudden. He'd been havin' a kid pillow mix-up with
Swifty Joe, just as lively as if the thermometer was down to thirty
instead of up to ninety, and he's just had his rub down and got into his
featherweight serge, when in drifts this Rodney Kipp that's figurin' so
strong on the defense side of them pipe line cases.

"Ah, Vincent!" says he.

"Hello, Rodney!" says Vincent as they passes each other in the front
office, one goin' out and the other comin' in.

I'd never happened to see 'em meet before, and I'm some surprised that
they're so well acquainted. Don't know why, either, unless it is that
they're so different. Rodney, you know, is one of these light complected
heavyweights, and a swell because he was born so. I was wonderin' if
Rodney was one of Vincent's lawyers, or if they just belonged to the same
clubs; when Mr. Kipp swings on his heel and says:

"Oh, by the way, Vincent, how is grammy?"

"Why!" says Vincent, "isn't she out with you and Nellie?"

"No," says Rodney, "she stayed with us only for a couple of days. Nellie
said she hadn't heard from her for nearly two months, and told me to ask
you about her. So long. I'm due for some medicine ball work," and with
that he drifts into the gym. and shuts the door.

Vincent, he stands lookin' after him with a kind of worried look on his
face that was comical to see on such a cocksure chap as him.

"Lost somebody, have you?" says I.

"Why--er--I don't know," says Vincent, runnin' his fingers through the
bristles that waves above his noble brow. "It's grandmother. I can't