, well," says I, "I ain't rubbin' it in. I guess there's white
spots in you, after all; even if you do keep 'em covered."

He pricks up his ears at that, and wants to know how and why. Almost
before I knows it we've drifted into a heart to heart talk that a half
hour before I would have said couldn't have happened. Langdon ain't
turned cherub; but he's a whole lot milder, and he takes in what I've
got to say as if it was a bulletin from headquarters.

"That's all so," says he. "But I've got to do something. Do you know
what I'd like best?"

I couldn't guess.

"I'd like to be in the navy and handle one of those big thirteen-inch
guns," says he.

"Why not, then?" says I.

"I don't know how to get in," says he. "I'd go in a minute, if I did."

"You're as good as there now, then," says I. "There's a recruitin'
office around on Sixth-ave., not five blocks from here, and the
Lieutenant's somethin' of a friend of mine. Is it a go?"

"It is," says Langdon.

Hanged if he didn't mean it too, and before he can change his mind
we've had the papers all made out.

In the mornin' I 'phones Pembroke, and he comes around to lug me up
while he breaks the news to maw; for he says she'll need a lot of
calmin' down. I was lookin' for nothin' less than cat fits, too. But
say, she don't even turn on the sprayer.

"The navy!" says she. "Why, how sweet! Oh, I'm so glad! Won't
Langdon make a lovely officer?"

I don't know how it's goin' to work out; but there's one sure thing:
it'll be some time before Langdon'll be pestered any more by the
traffic cops.

And, now that the state room's engaged, you ought to see how well
Pembroke is standin' the blow.

XV

SHORTY'S GO WITH ART

When me and art gets into the ring together, you might as well burn the
form sheet and slip the band back on your bettin' roll, for there's no
tellin' who'll take the count.

It was Cornelia Ann that got me closer to art than I'd ever been
before, or am like to get again. Now, I didn't hunt her up, nor she
didn't come gunnin' for me. It was a case of runnin' down signals and
collidin' on the stair landin'; me makin' a grand rush out of the
Studio for a cross town car, and she just gettin' her wind 'fore she
tackled the next flight.

Not that I hit her so hard; but it was enough to spill the paper
bundles she has piled up on one arm, and start 'em bouncin' down the
iron steps. First comes a loaf of bread; next a bottle of pickl