is
blessed town; that is, all except the storekeepers, the plumbers, the
milkman, and so on. My money seems to be good enough for them. But as
for the others--well, you know how we've been frozen out. As though we
had something catching, or would blight the landscape. Now what's the
big idea? What are some of the charges in the indictment?"

And I'll leave it to you if that wasn't enough to get me scrapin' my
front hoof. How you goin' to break it to a gent sittin' by your own
fireside that maybe he's a bit rough in the neck, or too much of a yawp
to fit into the refined and exclusive circle that patronizes the 8:03
bankers' express? As I see it, the thing can't be done.

"Excuse me, Mr. Garvey," says I, "but if there's been any true bill
handed in by a pink tea grand jury it's been done without consultin'
me. I ain't much on this codfish stuff myself."

"Shake, young man," says he grateful. "I thought you looked like the
right sort. But without gettin' right down to brass tacks, or namin' any
names, couldn't you slip me a few useful hints? There's no use denyin'
we're in wrong here. I don't suppose it matters much just how; not now,
anyway. But Tim Garvey is no quitter; at least, I've never had that
name. And I've made up my mind to stay with this proposition until I'm
dead sure I'm licked."

"That's the sportin' spirit," says I.

"What I want is a line on how to get in right," says he.

At which I scratches my head and stalls around.

"For instance," he goes on, "what is it these fine Harbor Hills folks do
that I can't learn? Is it parlor etiquette? Then me for that. I'll take
lessons. I'm willin' to be as refined and genteel as anybody if that's
what I lack."

"That's fair enough," says I, still stallin'.

"You see," says Garvey, "this kind of a deal is a new one on us. I don't
want to throw any bull, but out in Kansas City we thought we had just as
good a bunch as you could find anywhere; and we were the ringleaders, as
you might say. Mixed with the best people. All live wires, too. We had a
new country club that would make this one of yours look like a freight
shed. I helped organize it, was one of the directors. And the Madam took
her part, too; first vice-president of the Woman's Club, charter member
of the Holy Twelve bridge crowd, as some called it, and always a
patroness at the big social affairs. A new doormat wouldn't, last us a
lifetime out there. But here--say, how do you break into this bunch,
a