o rude to
him that Langdon said he just wouldn't stay another day! I told him I
didn't blame him a bit. So he came home. But it's awfully dull for a
young man like Langdon here in New York, you know."

"Crippled, or blind or something, is he?" says I.

"Who, Langdon? Why, he's perfect--absolutely perfect!" says she.

"Oh, that accounts for it," says I, and Pembroke went through some
motions with his cheeks like he was tryin' to blow soap bubbles up in
the air.

Well, it seems that mother has been worryin' a lot over keepin' Langdon
amused. Think of it, in a town like this!

"He detests business," says she, "and he doesn't care for theatres, or
going to clubs, or reading, or society. But his poor dear father
didn't care for any of those things either, except business. And
Langdon hasn't any head for that. All he takes an interest in is his
machine."

"Singer or Remington?" says I.

"Why, his auto, of course. He's perfectly devoted to that," says she;
"but the police are so dreadfully particular. Oh, they make such lots
of trouble for Langdon, and get him into such stupid scrapes. Don't
they, Pembroke?"

Pembroke didn't blink at that. He nods twice.

"It just keeps me worried all the time," she goes on. "It isn't that I
mind paying the absurd fines, of course; but--well, you can understand.
No one knows what those horrid officers will do next, they're so
unreasonable. Just think, that is the poor boy's only pleasure! So I
thought that if we could only get Langdon interested in something of an
athletic nature--he's a splendid boxer, you know--oh, splendid!"

"That's different," says I. "You might send him down a few times
and----"

"Oh, but I want you to meet him first," says she, "and arouse his
enthusiasm. He would never go if you didn't. I expect he will be in
soon, and then-- Why, that must be Langdon now!"

It might have been an axe brigade from the district attorney's office,
or a hook and ladder company, by the sound. I didn't know whether he
was comin' through the doors or bringin' 'em in with him. As I squints
around I sees the egg eyed butler get shouldered into the hall rack; so
I judges that Langdon must be in something of a hurry.

He gets over it, though, for he stamps into the middle of the room,
plants his feet wide apart, throws his leather cap with the goggles on
into a chair, and chucks one of them greasy bootleg gloves into the
middle of the tea tray.

"Hello, maw