ranch, and who's
wearin' the red stripe yet; while Hunch he puts over a few polite
quizzes as to how I'm gettin' on with the Corrugated people.

We hadn't been gassin' but five minutes or so, and there's ten more due
on the clock before lunch hour is over, when I looks up to see our Mr.
Piddie going by and givin' me the frown. I knew what that meant. It's
another call-down. He has plenty of time to work up his case; for I takes
the limit and don't hang up my hat until the life-insurance chimes has
done their one-o'clock stunt. And I'm hardly settled behind the brass
gate before Piddie is down on me with the old mushy-mouthed reproof.

"One is known," says he, "by the company one keeps."

"I'm no New Theater manager," says I. "What's the answer?"

"I observed you loitering in the lower corridor," says he. "That is
all."

"Oh!" says I. "You seen me conversin' with Mr. Leary, eh?"

"Mr. Leary!" says Piddie, raisin' his eyebrows.

"Well, Hunch, then," says I. "Tryin' to get up a grouch because you
wa'n't introduced? Don't take it hard. He's kind of exclusive, Mr. Leary
is."

Piddie swallows that throat pippin of his two or three times before he
can get a grip on his feelings enough to go on with the lesson of the
day. "I merely wish to remark," says he, "that evil communications
corrupt good manners."

"How about court Judges, then," says I, "and these slum missionaries'?
G'wan, Piddie! Back to the copybook with your mottoes! I'm a mixer, I
am! Would I be chinnin' here with you if I wa'n't?"

He sighs, Piddie does, and struts away to freeze the soul of some new
lady typist by looking over her shoulder. As an act of charity, they
ought to let Piddie fire me about once a month. He'll die of grief if he
don't get the chance sometime.

And blamed if he don't come near gettin' his heart's desire before the
day was over!

It all begins about three o'clock, when Piddie comes turkeyin' out of
the telephone booth all swelled up with importance and signals me to
come on the carpet.

"Torchy," says he, "I presume you know where the Metropolitan Building
is?"

"They ain't moved it since lunchtime, have they?" says I.

"That will do!" says he. "Now listen very carefully."

You'd thought from his preamble that I was going to be sent up to
regulate the clock, or see if the tower was still plumb; but all it
simmers down to is that I'm to take a leather document case, hunt up Mr.
Ellins, who's attendin' a directors' mee