o pose for her when she had the top floor
back in our building. She made an embossed clay picture of him that
Joe used to gaze at by the hour. And once he showed me her photo that
she'd given him. Then there was the special invite he'd been tellin'
me about. Not bein' used to gettin' such things, he'd mistook that
card to her studio openin' as a sort of private billy ducks, and he'd
built up a dream about him and her havin' a hand-holdin' session all to
themselves.

"Great cats!" thinks I. "Can it be Cornelia Ann he's gone on?"

Well, all you had to do to get the answer was to watch Swifty follow
her around with his eyes. You'd thought, findin' himself in a bunch of
top-notchers like that, and rigged out the way he was, he'd been
feelin' like a green strawb'ry in the bottom of the basket. But
nothin' of that kind had leaked through his thick skull. Cornie was
there, and he was there, dressed accordin' to his own designs, and he
was contented and happy as a turtle on a log, believin' the rest of us
had only butted in.

I was feelin' all cut up over his break, and tryin' to guess how
Cornelia was standin' it, when she floats up to me and says:

"Wasn't it sweet of Mr. Gallagher to come? Have you seen him?"

"Seen him!" says I. "You don't notice any bandage over my eyes, do
you? Notice the get up. Why, he looks like a section of a billboard."

"Oh, I don't mind his clothes a bit," says she. "I think he's real
picturesque. Besides, I haven't forgotten that he used to pose for me
when hiring models meant going without meals. I wish you would see
that he doesn't get lonesome before I have a chance to speak to him
again."

"He don't look like he needed any chirkin' up," says I; "but I'll go
give him the howdy."

So I trots over to the yellow shade and ranges myself up in front of
him. "You might's well own up, Swifty," says I. "Is Cornie the one?"

"Uh-huh," says he.

"Told her about it yet?" says I.

"Ahr, chee!" says he. "Give a guy a chance."

"Sure," says I. "But go slow, Joey, go slow."

I don't know how it happened, for all I told about it was Sadie and
Mrs. Purdy Pell; but it wa'n't long before everyone in the joint was
next to Swifty, and was pipin' him off. They all has to be introduced
and make a try at gettin' him to talk. For awhile he has the time of
his life. Mostly he just grins; but now and then he throws in an "Ahr,
chee!" that knocks 'em silly.

The only one that don't