Apparently feeling unable to deal with these phenomena, he went at last
to the door. "Well, this is a fine exhibition," he said, standing with
his hand on the knob and regarding them. "Won election bets? Some good
old auntie just died? Found something new to pawn? No? Well, I can't
stand this. You resemble those fish they discover at deep sea.
Good-bye!"

As he opened the door they cried out: "Hold on, Billie! Billie, look
here! Say, who is she?"

"What?"

"Who is she?"

"Who is who?"

They laughed and nodded. "Why, you know. She. Don't you understand?
She."

"You talk like a lot of crazy men," said Hawker. "I don't know what you
mean."

"Oh, you don't, eh? You don't? Oh, no! How about those violets you were
moping over this morning? Eh, old man! Oh, no, you don't know what we
mean! Oh, no! How about those violets, eh? How about 'em?"

Hawker, with flushed and wrathful face, looked at Pennoyer. "Penny----"
But Grief and Wrinkles roared an interruption. "Oh, ho, Mr. Hawker! so
it's true, is it? It's true. You are a nice bird, you are. Well, you old
rascal! Durn your picture!"

Hawker, menacing them once with his eyes, went away. They sat cackling.

At noon, when he met Wrinkles in the corridor, he said: "Hey, Wrinkles,
come here for a minute, will you? Say, old man, I--I----"

"What?" said Wrinkles.

"Well, you know, I--I--of course, every man is likely to make an
accursed idiot of himself once in a while, and I----"

"And you what?" asked Wrinkles.

"Well, we are a kind of a band of hoodlums, you know, and I'm just
enough idiot to feel that I don't care to hear--don't care to
hear--well, her name used, you know."

"Bless your heart," replied Wrinkles, "we haven't used her name. We
don't know her name. How could we use it?"

"Well, I know," said Hawker. "But you understand what I mean, Wrinkles."

"Yes, I understand what you mean," said Wrinkles, with dignity. "I don't
suppose you are any worse of a stuff than common. Still, I didn't know
that we were such outlaws."

"Of course, I have overdone the thing," responded Hawker hastily.
"But--you ought to understand how I mean it, Wrinkles."

After Wrinkles had thought for a time, he said: "Well, I guess I do.
All right. That goes."

Upon entering the den, Wrinkles said, "You fellows have got to quit
guying Billie, do you hear?"

"We?" cried Grief. "We've got to quit? What do you do?"

"Well, I quit too."

Pennoyer said: "Ah, ha! Billie has bee