. A
neck that takes a No. 18 turn-down collar goes with that. He has his
hands in his pockets, an Egyptian joss-stick in his mouth, and he's
straddlin' up and down, as satisfied with himself as if he'd just cashed
a ticket on the right horse.

"Hello, profess!" says I. "I spots your name on the sign; so I takes the
foot elevator up to see how you're comin' on."

"Quite right, son," says he, "quite right."

He didn't need any whizz plane then to beat the Curtiss record. He was
soarin', soarin,' and too busy with it to take much notice of me.

"You ain't been round to the office lately," says I, lettin' on I was
still with the paper.

"No, son," says he; "but you can inform your dramatic man down there
that if he wants an important piece of news he'd better come and see
me," and with that he taps his chest like he was stunnin' the gallery.

"Thought you looked like happy days, professor," says I. "What's it
like? You ain't been takin' on any swell pupils, have you?"

"Haven't I, though?" says he, stickin' his thumbs in his vest pockets
and comin' up on his toes as if he was goin' to crow. "Haven't I?"

"Say, Mac," says I confidential, "that wasn't her I saw drivin' off in
the private buggy as I come in, was it--the wide one?"

"That was her," says he, "the new Juliet."

"Juliet!" says I. "Aw, you're kiddin'! Honest, professor, do Juliets
come as heavy as that?"

Then he winks. I could see he was just bustin' to let it out to some
one, and here was his chance. "Son," says he, "when young ladies have
the price to pay for such luxuries as the cultivation of a dramatic
talent that doesn't exist, size doesn't count. I've coached a Hamlet
with lop ears and a pug nose, a Lady of Lyons that had a face you could
chop wood with, and I guess I'm not going to draw the line at a Juliet
whose father is president of a trust, even if she is something of a baby
elephant!"

I heard the wall crack at that, and I suspected Marjorie'd got a shock.

"Can she act any?" says I.

"Act!" says he. "It's enough to make the angels weep to see her try.
Imagine, my boy, a one hundred and thirty-pound Romeo trying to hug his
way around a two hundred and fifty-pound Juliet! Why, we'd have to prop
up the balcony with a structural iron pillar and----"

It was too bad to have the flow stopped, for he was enjoyin' himself;
but just then the door was jerked open and in rushes Marjorie, her eyes
blazin', her face white, and so mad she couldn'