t, though. One day I'm called to the 'phone by
some mealy mouth that wants to know if this is the Physical Culture
Studio.

"Sure as ever," says I.

"Well," says he, "I'm secretary to Mr. Fletcher Dawes."

"That's nice," says I. "How's Fletch?"

"Mr. Dawes," says he, "will see the professah at fawh o'clock this
awfternoon."

"Is that a guess," says I, "or has he been havin' his fortune told?"

"Who is this?" says the gent at the other end of the wire, real sharp
and sassy.

"Only me," says I.

"Well, who are you?" says he.

"I'm the witness for the defence," says I. "I'm Professor McCabe, P.
C. D., and a lot more that I don't use on week days."

"Oh!" says he, simmerin' down a bit. "This is Professor McCabe
himself, is it? Well, Mr. Fletcher Dawes requiahs youah services. You
are to repawt at his apartments at fawh o'clock this awfternoon--fawh
o'clock, understand?"

"Oh, yes," says I. "That's as plain as a dropped egg on a plate of
hash. But say, Buddy; you tell Mr. Dawes that next time he wants me
just to pull the string. If that don't work, he can whistle; and when
he gets tired of whistlin', and I ain't there, he'll know I ain't
comin'. Got them directions? Well, think hard, and maybe you'll
figure it out later. Ta, ta, Mister Secretary." With that I hangs up
the receiver and winks at Swifty Joe.

"Swifty," says I, "they'll be usin' us for rubber stamps if we don't
look out."

"Who was the guy?" says he.

"Some pinhead up to Fletcher Dawes's," says I.

"Hully chee!" says Swifty.

Funny, ain't it, how most everyone'll prick up their ears at that name?
And it don't mean so much money as John D.'s or Morgan's does, either.
But what them two and Harriman don't own is divided up among Fletcher
Dawes and a few others. Maybe it's because Dawes is such a free
spender that he's better advertised. Anyway, when you say Fletcher
Dawes you think of a red-faced gent with a fistful of thousand-dollar
bills offerin' to buy the White House for a stable.

But say, he might have twice as much, and I wouldn't hop any quicker.
I'm only livin' once, and it may be long or short, but while it lasts I
don't intend to do the lackey act for anyone.

Course, I thinks the jolt I gave that secretary chap closes the
incident. But around three o'clock that same day, though, I looks down
from the front window and sees a heavy party in a fur lined overcoat
bein' helped out of a shiny benzine wagon by a pie fa