sed her up only a few
months ago!"

"Yes," says I, "considerin' your chronic ambition, that was once when
you were out of luck. And the worst of it is that maybe she was only
usin' you to practice on all along. Eh?"

Perhaps it wasn't a consolin' thought to leave with Lester, but somehow
I couldn't help grinnin' as I tossed it over. And me, I'm doping out no
more advice to young ladies from Saskatoun or elsewhere. I'm off that
side-line permanent.

CHAPTER XVI

TORCHY TACKLES A MYSTERY

I'll admit I didn't get all stirred up when Mr. Robert comes in from
luncheon and announces that this Penrhyn Deems person is missing.

"On how many cylinders?" says I.

I might have added, too, that even if he'd been mislaid permanent I
could struggle along. First off, anybody with a name like that could be
easy spared. Penrhyn! Always reminded me of a headache tablet. Where did
he get such a fancy tag? I never could believe that was sprinkled on
him. Listened to me like something he'd thought up himself when he saw
the chance of its being used so much on four sheets and billboards. And
if you'd ask me I'd said that the prospect of his not contributin' any
more of them musical things to the Broadway stage wasn't good cause for
decreein' a lodge of sorrow. Them last two efforts of his certainly was
punk enough to excuse him from tryin' again. What if he had done the
lines and lyrics to "The Buccaneer's Bride"? That didn't give him any
license to unload bush-league stuff for the rest of his career, did it?
Begun to look like his first big hit had been more or less of an
accident. That being the case maybe it was time for him to fade out.

Course, I didn't favor Mr. Robert with all this. Him and Penrhyn Deems
was old college chums together, and while they ain't been real thick in
late years they have sort of kept in touch. I suspect that since Penrhyn
got to ratin' himself as kind of a combination of Reggie DeKoven and
George Cohan he ain't been so easy to get along with. Maybe I'm wrong,
but from the few times I've seen him blowin' in here at the Corrugated
that was my dope. You know. One of these parties who carries his chest
out and walks heavy on his heels. Yes, I should judge that the ego in
Penrhyn's make-up would run well over 2.75 per cent.

But it takes more'n that to get him scratched from Mr. Robert's list.
He's strong for keepin' up old friendships, Mr. Robert is. He remembers
whatever good points they have a