his fat finger-tips on the chair arm.

"Huh!" says he. "Babes and sucklings! But I've had worse advice that has
cost me a lot more. Well, I suppose an old fool like that is dangerous
to have drifting around. But I don't want him here just now, either.
Um-m-m! Where did you say this son of his lived?"

"Just out of Los Angeles," says I.

"All right," says Old Hickory. "Tell him he goes west Tuesday as
traveling auditor to our second vice president. He'll bring up at Los
Angeles about the middle of the month--and about that time it may happen
that he'll be retired on full pay. But I'll keep this resignation, as a
curiosity."

Now don't ask me to describe how old Dudley takes it; for when he gets
the full partic'lars of the decision it near keels him over. And what
part of it do you say tickles him most? That the books don't have to be
juggled!

"It wasn't like Mr. Ellins to countenance an act of that sort, not in
the least," says he, "and I am very glad that he has changed his mind."

"Say, Dudley," says I, "you're a wonder, you are."

And it was all I could do to keep from askin' him if he thought he owned
the only bottle of ink eradicator there was in New York.

Do I know who did fix up them entries? Well, by the nervous motions of a
certain party next mornin', I could give a guess.

"Piddie," says I, "if they ever get you on the stand, you want to wear
interferin' pads between your knees, so they won't hear the bones
rattle."

CHAPTER XVI

THROWING THE LINE TO SKID

Say, this is twice I've been let in wrong on Skid Mallory. Remember him,
don't you? Well, he's our young college hick that I helped steer up
against Baron Kazedky when he landed that big armor plate order. Did
they make Skid a junior partner for that, or paint his name on a private
office door? Not so you'd notice it. Maybe they was afraid a sudden
boost like that would make him dizzy. But they promotes him to the sales
department and adds ten to his pay envelope. I was most as tickled over
it as Mallory was, too.

"Didn't I tell you?" says I. "You're a comer, you are! Why, I expect in
ten or a dozen years more you'll be sharin' in the semi-annuals and
ridin' down to the office in a taxi."

"Perhaps I may, Torchy--in ten or a dozen years," says he, kind of slow
and sober.

I could guess what he was thinking of then. It was the girl, that sweet
young thing that Brother Dick towed in here along last winter, some
Senator's daughter