e each one the long-lost
brother grip, and whisper in his ear, as confidential as if he was
telling him how he'd won the piano at a church raffle: "Don't say a
word; to-morrow at ten." They all got the same, even to the Hickey-boy
shoulder pat as he passed 'em out, and every last one of 'em faded away
trying to keep from lookin' tickled to death. It took twenty minutes by
the watch.

"Now, Mr. Fales," says Leonidas, comin' to a parade rest in front of the
chair, "next time you want to play Santa Claus to the unemployed I'd
advise you to hire Madison Square Garden to receive in."

That seemed to put a little life into Homer. He hitched himself up off'n
the middle of his backbone, pulled in a yard or two of long legs and
pried his eyes open. You couldn't call him handsome and prove it. He had
one of those long, two-by-four faces, with more nose than chin, and a
pair of inset eyes that seemed built to look for grief. The corners of
his mouth were sagged, and his complexion made you think of cheese pie.
But he was still alive.

"You've overlooked one," says he, and points my way. "He wouldn't do at
all. Send him off, too."

"That's where you're wrong, Mr. Fales," says Leonidas. "This gentleman
is a wholly disinterested party, and he's a particular friend of mine.
Professor McCabe, let me introduce Mr. Homer Fales."

So I came to the front and gave Homer's flipper a little squeeze that
must have done him as much good as an electric treatment, by the way he
squirmed.

"If you ever feel ambitious for a little six-ounce glove exercise," says
I, "just let me know."

"Thanks," says he, "thanks very much. But I'm an invalid, you see. In
fact, I'm a very sick man."

"About three rounds a day would put you on your feet," says I. "There's
nothing like it."

He kind of shuddered and turned to Leonidas. "You are certain that those
men will not return, are you?" says he.

"Not before to-morrow at ten. You can be out then, you know," says Mr.
Dodge.

"To-morrow at ten!" says Homer, and slumps again, all in a heap. "Oh,
this is awful!" he groans. "I couldn't survive another!"

It was the worst case of funk I ever saw. We put in an hour trying to
brace him up, but not until we'd promised to stay by over night could
we get him to breathe deep. Then he was as grateful as if we'd pulled
him out of the river. We half lugs him over to the elevator and takes
him up to his quarters. It wasn't any cheap hang-out, either--nothing
b