rst
struggle. Then, while Uncle Jerry held him gaspin' and groanin' on the
floor, I buttoned the high collar on and fastened the white tie. Next we
ended him up on his feet and pulled on the display vest and the long
tailed coat.

"Ug-g-gh! It chokes somethin' awful!" says Jake, gettin' purple faced
and panicky.

"Ah, close that pie gangway of yours and breathe natural for a minute!"
says I. "There, you're feelin' better already. Come, pull them knobby
wrists back up into your sleeves. This ain't no swimmin' lesson, you
know. Say, you wear a dress suit like it was so much tin armor. What's
the matter with you, anyway!"

"I--I don't know," says Jake, tryin' to stretch his head up like a
turkey. "I don't like this."

"You look it," says I. "But think who's goin' to see you in it later!
First off, though, you're goin' to a show with me. Come on, now; maybe
you'll get used to bein' dressed up by eleven o'clock."

"'Leven o'clock!" says Uncle Jerry. "Look here, Son, I ain't in the
habit of stayin' up all night, remember. I'll be droppin' off to sleep
for sartin'."

He don't, though. All through the play, which has been a two years'
scream for Broadway, he sat as solemn as if he was on a coroner's jury
in the presence of the remains. Play actin' was new to Uncle Jerry; but
he wa'n't going to give himself away, and he was just as wide awake as
anybody in the house.

With Jake it was diff'rent. I expect them washed out blue eyes of his
had taken in so many new scenes since mornin' that they couldn't absorb
any more. Anyway, he gets drowsy before the curtain goes up, and after
he's twisted his neck until he's got it collar broken he settles back
for a comf'table snooze. He looks so calm and peaceful I didn't have the
heart to disturb him, and I only jabbed my elbows in his ribs when he
got to tunin' up the nose music too loud. Besides, I was hopin' a little
nap of two or three hours might leave him some refreshed and in better
shape for exhibitin' to Miss Mildred. For the more I saw of Jake, the
less I could understand how a real live one like Millie could stand for
three days of him, even if she did, discover him on a desert island. And
as for ravin' about him afterwards--well, you never can tell, can you?

After the play it took Uncle Jerry shakin' on one side and me on the
other to bring Jake back to life from his woodsawin' act.

"Ah, quit it and give the orchestra a chance!" says I. "And keep them
elbows down! D