sts here."

"On your way, boss! What's dat?"

"He left the force just after that merry meeting of ours when you
frolicked with the bull-dog. He came over here, and butted into
society. So, here we are again, all gathered together under the same
roof, like a jolly little family party."

Spike's open mouth bore witness to his amazement.

"Den--" he stammered.

"Yes?"

"Den, what's he goin' to do?"

"I couldn't say. I'm expecting to hear shortly. But we needn't worry
ourselves. The next move's with him. If he wants to comment on the
situation, he won't be backward. He'll come and do it."

"Sure. It's up to him," agreed Spike.

"I'm quite comfortable. Speaking for myself, I'm having a good time.
How are you getting along downstairs?"

"De limit, boss. Honest, it's to de velvet. Dey's an old gazebo, de
butler, Saunders his name is, dat's de best ever at handin' out long
woids. I sits an' listens. Dey calls me Mr. Mullins down dere," said
Spike, with pride.

"Good. I'm glad you're all right. There's no season why we shouldn't
have an excellent time here. I don't think that Mr. McEachern will
try to have us turned out, after he's heard one or two little things
I have to say to him--just a few reminiscences of the past which may
interest him. I have the greatest affection for Mr. McEachern--I
wish it were mutual--but nothing he can say is going to make me stir
from here."

"Not on your life," agreed Spike. "Say, boss, he must have got a lot
of plunks to be able to butt in here. An' I know how he got dem,
too. Dat's right. I comes from little old New York, meself."

"Hush, Spike, this is scandal!"

"Sure," said the Bowery boy doggedly, safely started now on his
favorite subject. "I knows, an' youse knows, boss. Gee! I wish I'd
bin a cop. But I wasn't tall enough. Dey's de fellers wit' de big
bank-rolls. Look at dis old McEachern. Money to boin a wet dog wit'
he's got, an' never a bit of woik fer it from de start to de finish.
An' look at me, boss."

"I do, Spike, I do."

"Look at me. Gittin' busy all de year round, woikin' to beat de
band--"

"In prisons oft," said Jimmy.

"Sure t'ing. An' chased all roun' de town. An' den what? Why, to de
bad at de end of it all. Say, it's enough to make a feller--"

"Turn honest," said Jimmy. "That's it, Spike. Reform. You'll be glad
some day."

Spike seemed to be doubtful. He was silent for a moment, then, as if
following up a train of thought, he said:

"Boss,