is, and tell him
to take his pants out of his boot tops, it's up to me to do it."

Just the same, when I gets up to the desk, I whispers it confidential
to the clerk. If he'd come back with a hee-haw I wouldn't have said a
word. I was expectin' somethin' of the kind. But never a chuckle. He
don't even grin.

"Hank Merrity?" says he, shakin' his head. "We have a guest here,
though, by the name of Henry Merrity--Mr. Henry Merrity."

"That's him," says I. "All the Henrys are Hanks when you get west of
Omaha. Where'll I find him?"

I was hopin' he'd be up in his room, practisin' with' the electric
light buttons, or bracin' himself for a ride down in the elevator; but
there was no answer to the call on the house 'phone; so I has to wait
while a boy goes out with my card on a silver tray, squeakin', "Mister
Merrity! Mis-ter Merrity!" Five minutes later I was towed through the
palms into the Turkish smokin' room, and the next thing I knew I was
lined up in front of a perfect gent.

Say, if it hadn't been for them buttermilk eyes, you never could have
made me believe it was him. Honest, them eyes was all there was left
of the Hank Merrity I'd known in Bedelia. It wa'n't just the clothes,
either, though he had 'em all on,--op'ra lid, four-button white vest,
shiny shoes, and the rest,--it was what had happened to his face that
was stunnin' me.

The lip drooper had been wiped out--not just shaved off, mind you, but
scrubbed clean. The russet colour was gone, too. He was as pink and
white and smooth as a roastin' pig that's been scraped and sandpapered
for a window display in a meat shop. You've noticed that electric
light complexion some of our Broadway rounders gets on? Well, Hank had
it. Even the neck freckles had got the magic touch.

Course, he hadn't been turned into any he Venus, at that; but as he
stood, costume and all, he looked as much a part of New York as the
Flatiron Buildin'. And while I'm buggin' my eyes out and holdin' my
mouth open, he grabs me by the hand and slaps me on the back.

"Why, hello, Shorty! I'm mighty glad to see you. Put 'er there!" says
he.

"Gee!" says I. "Then it's true! Now I guess the thing for me to do is
to own up to Maude Adams that I believe in fairies. Hank, who did it?"

"Did what?" says he.

"Why, made your face over and put on the Fifth-ave. gloss?" says I.

"Do I look it?" says he, grinnin'. "Would I pass?"

"Pass!" says I. "Hank, they could use y