of the crowd and drifted off.

I couldn't help puttin' one thing up to Brother Beans though. "Excuse me
for gettin' curious," says I, "but when I asks Hartley what G. O. G.
stands for he made kind of a punk guess. If it ain't any deep
secret----"

"It is," says Brother Beans, "but I think I'll let you in on it. The
name of our noble organization is 'Grue's Overseas Grouches,' and our
humble object is to rebuke the only taint of Prussianism which we have
personally encountered in an otherwise perfectly good man's army. When
we've done that we intend to disband."

"Huh!" says I, glancin' over to where Hartley is springin' sort of a
sheepish smile at a buck private who's pattin' him on the back, "I think
you can most call it a job now."

CHAPTER X

THE CASE OF OLD JONESEY

And then again, you can't always tell. I forget whether it was Bill
Shakespeare first sprung that line, or Willie Collier; but whoever it
was he said a whole bookful at once. Wise stuff. That's it. And simple,
too. Yet it's one of the first things we forget.

But to get the point over I expect I'll have to begin with this
bond-room bunch of ours at the Corrugated. They're the kind of young
sports who always think they can tell. More'n that they always will,
providin' they can get anybody to listen. About any subject you can
name, from whether the government should own the railroads to describin'
the correct hold in dancin' the shimmy.

This particular day though it happens to be babidolls. Maybe it wasn't
just accident, either. I expect the sudden arrival of spring had
something to do with the choice of topic. For out in Madison Square park
the robins were hoppin' busy around in the flower beds, couples were
twosing confidential on the benches, lady typists were lunchin' off ice
cream cones, and the Greek tray peddlers were sellin' May flowers.

Anyway, it seemed like this was a day when romance was in the air, if
you get me. I think Izzy Grunkheimer must have started it with that
thrillin' tale of his about how he got rung in on a midnight studio
supper down in Greenwich Village and the little movie star who mistook
him for Charley Zukor. Izzy would spin that if he got half an openin'.
It was his big night. I believe he claims he got hugged or something.
And he always ends up by rollin' his eyes, suckin' in his breath and
declarin' passionate: "Some queen, yes-s-s!"

But the one who had the floor when I strolls into the bond room jus