n ever marry a tall gent
with a nose like the rear end of an observation car and a knowledge of
the English language which doesn't get beyond I O U--do you get me?"

Hep's goat wins in a walk.

"Are you all through, Hep?" I inquired feebly.

"I'm not through--but I'll take a recess," he snapped back at me.

"By the way," I said, offhand like, "is Clarissa Goober in town?"

"Yes, but she sails for Europe to-morrow on the _Imperator_," he
answered sullenly.

"Oh," I said; "who's going with her?"

"The Count Cheese von Cheese."

"Oh!"

Long pause.

"Let's have another Bronx," I suggested.

Hep took six--one for himself and five for the goat.

Can you blame him?

CHAPTER V

YOU SHOULD WORRY ABOUT BEING IN LOVE

Say! have you ever noticed that when a gink with an aluminum headpiece
is handed the "This-Way-Out" signal by his adored one, he either hikes
for a pickle parlor and begins to festoon his system with hops, or he
stands in front of a hardware store and gazes gloomily at the guns?

You haven't noticed it! Why, you astonish me.

Friend wife met me by appointment to take dinner at the Saint Astormore
the other evening and with her was her little brother, Stephen, aged
nine.

"I brought Stevie with me because I had some shopping to do and he's so
much company," Peaches explained as we sat down in the restaurant.

"Stevie is always pleasant company," I agreed, politely, but with a
watchful eye on my youthful brother-in-law all the while.

That kid was born with an abnormal bump of mischief and, by painstaking
endeavor, he has won the world's championship as an organizer of
impromptu riots.

"Oh, John!" said Peaches, when I began to make faces at the menu card,
"I didn't notice until now how pale you look. Have you had a busy day?"

"Busy!" I repeated; "well, rather. I've been giving imitations of a
bull fight. Everybody I met was the bull and I was the fight. Nominate
your eats! What'll it be, Stevie?"

"Sponge cake," said Stephen, promptly.

"What else?" asked Peaches.

"More sponge cake," the youth replied, and just then the smiling and
sympathetic waiter stooped down to pick up a fork Stephen had dropped.

In his anxiety not to miss anything, Stevie rubbered acrobatically with
the result that he upset a glass of ice water down the waiter's neck,
and three seconds later the tray-trotter had issued an Extra and was
saying things in French that would sound scandalous if translated.