rived half an hour later. In postin' myself as to what
this Mutual Fundin' Company really is that I'm supposed to be workin'
for, I needed some papers from the document safe. And for the first time
I pushes the buzzer button. Prompt and eager in comes Vincent, the fair
haired.

"Know which is Mr. Piddie, do you?" says I.

"Oh, yes, Sir," says he.

"Well," says I, "tell him I need those--no, better ask him to step in
here a minute."

Honest, I wa'n't plannin' to rub it in, either. Course, I'd done a good
deal of trottin' for Piddie, and a lot of it wa'n't for anything else
than to let him show his authority; but I didn't hold any grudge. I'd
squared the account in my own way. How he was goin' to take it now I
was the one to send for him, I didn't know; but there wa'n't any use
dodgin' the issue.

And you should have seen Piddie make his first official entrance! You
know how stiff and wooden he is as a rule? Well, as he marches in over
the rug and comes to a parade rest by the desk, he's about as limber as
a length of gas pipe. And solemn? That long face of his would have
soured condensed milk!

"Yes, Sir?" says he. And to me, mind you! It come out a little husky,
like it was bein' filtered through strong emotions; but there it is.
Piddie has sirred me his first "Sir."

He knows a roll-top when he sees one, Piddie does, and he ain't omittin'
any deference due. You know the type? He's one of the kind that was born
to be "our Mr. Piddie"; the sort that takes off his hat to a
vice-president, and holds his breath in the presence of the big wheeze.
But, say, I don't want any joss-sticks burned for me.

"Ditch it, Piddie," says I, "ditch it!"

"I--er--I beg pardon?" says he.

"The Sir stuff," says I. "Just because I'm behind the ground glass
instead of the brass rail don't make me a sacred being, or you a
lobbygow, does it? I guess we've known each other too long for that,
eh?" And I holds out the friendly mitt.

Honest, he's got a human streak in him, Piddie has, if you know where
to strike it. The cast-iron effect comes out of his shoulders, the
wooden look from his face. He almost smiles.

"Thank you, Torchy," says he. "I--er--my congratulations on your
new----"

"We'll spread 'em on the minutes," says I, "and proceed to show the
Corrugated some teamwork that mere salaries can't buy. Are you on?"

He was. Inside of three minutes he'd chucked that stiff-necked, flunky
pose and was coachin' me like a big bro