can chuck the giddy persiflage at Piddie day in and day out, and enjoy
doin' it, because it always gets him so wild. Also there's more or less
thrill to slippin' the gay retort across to Old Hickory Ellins now and
then, because there's a giddy chance of gettin' fired for it. But to rub
it into a non-resister like Uncle Dudley--well, what's the use?

So after awhile I cut it out altogether, leavin' him for such amateur
cut-ups as Izzy Budheimer and Flannel Haggerty to practice on. Then
little by little me and old Dudley got more or less chummy, what with me
steerin' him around to my fav'rite dairy lunch joint and all that. And,
say, we must have been a great pair, sittin' side by side in the
armchairs, puttin' away sweitzer sandwiches and mugs of chickory blend;
him in his tall lid, and with his quiet, old timy manners, and me--well,
I guess you get the tableau.

I used to like hearin' him talk, he uses such a soothin', genteel brand
of conversation; nothing fancy, you know, but plain, straightaway goods.
Mostly he tells me about his son, who's livin' out in California
somewhere and is just branchin' out in the cement block buildin'
business. Son is messin' in politics more or less too; mixin' it up
with the machine, and gettin' the short end of the returns every trip.
But it's on account of this reform stunt of his that the old gent seems
to be so proud of him, not appearin' to care whether he ever got elected
to anything or not.

He don't say so much about the married daughter that he lives with over
in Jersey; but I don't think much about that until after I've let him
tow me over to dinner once and met Son in Law Bennett. He's a flashy
proposition, this young Mr. Bennett is, havin' an interest in a curb
brokerage firm that rents window space on Broad-st. and has desk room
down on William. Let him tell it, though, and, providin' some of his
deals go through, he's goin' to have Morgan squealin' for help before
the year is out.

And I find that at home Uncle Dudley is rated somewhere between the
fam'ly cat and the front doormat. Mr. Bennett don't exactly gag the old
man and lock him in the cellar. He ignores him when he can, and when he
has to notice him he makes it plain that he's standin' the disgrace as
well as he can.

"So you came over with the old sport, did you?" says Bennett to me.
"Batty old duffer, eh? That comes of being a dead one for so long.
Manages to hang on with the Corrugated, though, don't he? H