ws grim, "my motto is, 'America
for Americans!'"

"And mine," says Eggy, facin' him defiant, "is 'Americans for America!'"

"You're a scatterbrained visionary!" snaps J. Q. "You and your potential
grandfather rubbish! What about the grandsons of good Americans? Do you
not reckon them in at all in your----"

"Whe-e-e-e! Whoop!" comes from the hall, the front office door is kicked
open joyous, and in comes a tall, light-haired, blue-eyed young gent,
with his face well pinked up and his hat on the back of his head. He's
arm in arm with a shrimpy, Frenchy lookin' party wearin' a silk lid and
a frock coat. They pushes unsteady through Eggy's illustrious ancestor
bunch and comes to parade rest in the center of the stage.

"Winthrop!" gasps Mr. Hubbard.

"Eh?" gasps the young gent, starin' round uncertain until he locates J.
Q. Then he makes a stab at straightenin' up. "'S a' right, Governor," he
goes on, "'s a' right. Been givin' lil' lu-luncheon to for'n
rep'sen'tives. Put 'em all out but An-Andorvski, and he's nothing but a
fish--deuced Russian fish. Eh, Droski?"

Believe me, with J. Q. Hubbard turnin' purple in the gills, and all them
cheap foreigners lookin' on bug-eyed, it wa'n't any humorous scene. With
the help of the waiter and the longshoreman they loads Winthrop and his
friend into a taxi, and Pinckney starts with 'em for the nearest Turkish
bath. The grandfather debate is adjourned for good.

I was talkin' it over with Swifty Joe, who, havin' been born in County
Kerry and brought up in South Brooklyn, is sore on foreigners of all
kinds. Course, he sides hearty with Mr. Hubbard.

"Ahr-r-r-chee!" says he. "That Hamand boob, stickin' up for the Waps and
Guineas, he--he's a nut, a last year's nut!"

"Hardly that, Swifty," says I. "A next year's nut, I should say."

CHAPTER XIV

CATCHING UP WITH GERALD

"It seemed so absurdly simple at first too," says J. Bayard Steele,
tappin' one of his pearl-gray spats with his walkin' stick. "But
now--well, the more I see of this Gerald Webb, the less I understand."

"Then you're comin' on," says I. "In time you'll get wise to the fact
that everybody's that way,--no two alike and every last one of us
neither all this nor all that, but constructed complicated, with a
surprise package done up in each one."

"Ah! Some of your homespun philosophy, eh?" says J. Bayard. "Interesting
perhaps, but inaccurate--quite! The fellow is not at all difficult to
read: it's w