e old lady
looked at us in stern disapproval and said the baby should have been in
bed for hours. The landlady, mindful of her interests, maintained a
neutral attitude. One of the young men assured Mrs. Dupont that her baby
was a corker.

"This," said Mrs. Milliken, urbanely waving her hand towards a heavy and
florid gentleman, who had kept in the background, "is Mr. O'Flaherty. He
owns the garage on the next block and has the second floor back."

This individual bowed to the ladies, keeping a large black cigar in the
corner of his mouth, and gave me a crushing grasp. I rejoiced for Mrs.
Milliken that she had the room rented, but promised myself to keep my
hands behind my back in his presence. We declined an invitation to share
the steps and went upstairs, where Mrs. Dupont, after putting the baby
down on the lounge, came to me with both hands extended.

"Thank you," she said. "Thank you ever so much. Indeed I enjoyed every
minute of it."

So we parted, and I went to my room and put on my old slippers, feeling
that I had also enjoyed a pleasant couple of hours. Frances Dupont says
that my typewriting does not trouble her at all, and I went to work,
having thought of a story about a blind man. I wrote a couple of pages
and then had to stop and close my eyes. How do blind men really feel,
and through what gift from on high does that peculiar smile come, which
their faces always show? I always have to try and put myself in the
place of folks I write about. The other day I told this to McGrath, but
he answered that I had evidently done so in regard to the mule I have
spoken of and had failed, later on, to throw off the disguise. Of course
I laughed. The real test of true friendship is the ability to call the
other chap names, with a smile on one's lips and affection in one's
heart.

Then Frieda came in for a moment, to say good night.

"It has done the poor child a lot of good," she said. "I am sure she
will have a good sleep. Well, good-by, Dave. Ever so much obliged to
you."

She went away, ponderously and yet swiftly. The night was becoming
cooler and the door opposite was closed. I also shut mine and lit the
calabash. It didn't seem so difficult, after all, to write about the
blind man. When you think of it, it is possible that the difference
between him and ourselves is merely one of degree.

A few more days passed and the Monday came, and be it said to my shame
that I was sound asleep when Mrs. Dupont starte