When we all got outside, clear,
we took a turn around Washington Square so I could have my laugh out on
Sam, and when we got back you were gone and so was the fellow from
Boston who chipped in, and so was that red-headed Irish waiter. That
knocked us silly--wife gave us rats, and I felt like a yellow dog. Been
a-feeling so ever since. The Dago couldn't or wouldn't understand. Said
we'd better come in when the boss was there. We had to take the eleven
o'clock to Boston that night and had only time to catch the train. When
I got back at six-ten to-night I drove to Foscari's, found the Irishman
and the boss, heard how he'd pulled your leg--paid the bill--$9.60,
wasn't it?--that's what he said it was, anyhow--and here's your
picture!'

"I had dropped the poker now and was motioning him to a chair.

"'No, thank you, I won't sit down; ain't got time. Got to take the
eleven forty-five for Chicago. Well, we had a lot of fun out of it,
anyhow, only I didn't intend it should end up the way it did. Just
wanted to get even with Sam and win my bet.'

"'Bet? I asked. I was still in the dark as to what he meant.

"'Yes--bet Sam I'd bunco any New York man he'd pick out, and you
happened to be the one. You see, wife and I and Sam were here for a few
days and we struck Thanksgiving and wanted some fun, and we HAD it.
You're white, old man all the way through--white as cotton and our
kind--never flunked once, or turned a hair. Sally took an awful shine
to you. Shake! Next time I'm in New York I'll look you up and if you
ever come out our way we'll open a keg o' nails, and make it red-hot
for you, and don't you forget it. Here's my card, so you can remember.'"

Peter picked up the card from the table, threw up his chin, and broke
into one of his infectious laughs. I reached over and took it from his
hand. It bore this inscription:

J. C. MURPHY
General Travelling Agent
C. S. & Q. R. R.

OGDEN, UTAH

MISS JENNINGS'S COMPANION

The big Liner slowed down and dropped anchor inside the Breakwater.
Sweeping toward her, pushing the white foam in long lines from her bow,
her flag of black smoke trailing behind, came the company's tender--out
from Cherbourg with passengers.

Under the big Liner's upper deck, along its top rail, was strung a row
of heads watching the tender's approach--old heads--young
heads--middle-aged heads--Miss Jennings's among these last--their eyes
taking in the grim Breakwater with its beacon