or he'll come to a bad end."

"Shall I do it, or will you?" I said, filling up the chewing-gum jar.
(Mr. Pierce had taken away the candy case.)

Doctor Barnes glanced around to see if there was any one near, and
leaned farther over.

"The cupboard isn't empty now!" he said. "Not for nothing did I spend
part of the night in the Dicky-bird's nest! By the way, did you ever
hear that touching story about little Sally walking up and laying an
egg?--I see you have. What do you think is in the cupboard?"

"I know about it," I said shortly. "Liquor--in a case labeled
'Books--breakable.'"

"'Sing a song of sixpence, a cupboard full of rye!'" he said. "Almost
a goal! But not ONLY liquors, my little friend. Champagne--cases of
it--caviar, canned grouse with truffles, lobster, cheeses, fine cigars,
everything you could think of, erotic, exotic and narcotic. An orgy in
cans and bottles, a bacchanalian revel: a cupboard full of indigestion,
joy, forgetfulness and katzenjammer. Oh, my suffering palate, to have to
leave it all without one sniff, one sip, one nibble!"

"He's wasting his money," I said. "They're all crazy about the simple
life."

He looked around and, seeing no one in the lobby, reached over and took
one of my hands.

"Strange," he said, looking at it. "No webs, and yet it's been an
amphibious little creature most of its life. My dear girl, our
friend Thoburn is a rascal, but he is also a student of mankind and a
philosopher. Gee," he said, "think of a woman fighting her way alone
through the world with a bit of a fist like that!"

I jerked my hand away.

"It's like this, my dear," he said. "Human nature's a curious thing.
It's human nature, for instance, for me to be crazy about you, when
you're as hands-offish as a curly porcupine. And it is human nature, by
the same token, to like to be bullied, especially about health, and to
respect and admire the fellow who does the bullying. That's why we were
crazy about Roosevelt, and that's why Pierce is trailing his kingly
robes over them while they lie on their faces and eat dirt--and stewed
fruit."

He reached for my hand again, but I put it behind me.

"But alas," he said, "there is another side to human nature, and
our friend Thoburn has not kept a summer hotel for nothing. It is
notoriously weak, especially as to stomach. You may feed 'em prunes and
whole-wheat bread and apple sauce, and after a while they'll forget
the fat days, and remember only the lea