he was a bar-hound and more or less of a window
ornament.

But the war sure had made a mess of Barry. I don't mean that he went
over and got shell shocked or gassed. Too far past thirty for that, and
he had too many things the matter with him. Oh, I had all the details
direct; bad heart, plumbing out of whack, nerves frazzled from too many
all-night sessions. He was in that shape to begin with. But he didn't
start braggin' about it until so many of his bunch got to makin'
themselves useful in different ways. Mr. Robert, for instance, gettin'
sent out in command of a coast patrol boat; others breakin' into Red
Cross work, ship buildin' and so on. Barry claims he tried 'em all and
was turned down.

But is he discouraged? Not Barry. If they won't put him in uniform, with
cute little dew-dads on his shoulder, or let him wear $28 puttees that
will take a mahogany finish, there's nothing to prevent him from turnin'
loose that mighty intellect of his and inventin' new ways to win the
war. So when he's sittin' there in his favorite window at the club,
starin' absent minded out on Fifth Avenue with a tall glass at his
elbow, he ain't half the slacker he looks to the people on top of the
green buses.

Not accordin' to Barry. Ten to one he's just developin' a new idea.
Maybe it's only a design for a thrift stamp poster, but it might be a
scheme for inducin' the Swiss to send their navy down the Rhine. But
whatever it is, as soon as Barry gets it halfway thought out, he has to
trot around and tell about it.

So when I glance up and see this tall, well tailored party standin' at
my elbow, and notice the eager, excited look in his pale blue eyes, I
know about what to expect.

"Well, what is it this time, Barry?" says I. "Have you doped out an
explosive pretzel, or are you goin' to turn milliner and release some
woman for war work?"

"Oh, I say, Torchy!" he protests. "No chaffing, now. I'm in dead
earnest, you know. Of course, being all shot to pieces physically, I
can't go to the front, where I'd give my neck to be. Why, with this
leaky heart valve of mine I couldn't even----"

"Yes, yes," I broke in. "We've been over all that. Not that I'd mind
hearing it again, but just now I'm more or less busy."

"Are you, though?" says Barry. "Isn't that perfectly ripping! Something
important, I suppose?"

"Might be if I could pull it off," says I, "but as it stands----"

"That's it!" says Barry. "I was hoping I'd find you starting