ame
collapsing. "Gee! I'm 'bout tuckered. Sm-pooh! Sm-pooh! Run all th'
way f'm--sm-ha, sm-ha!--run all th' way f'm--mouth's all stuck
together--p'too! ha! Pooh! Fm West End Avenue and Swo--Swope's. Gee! I'm
hot's flitter."

"Keep y' coat on when you're all of a prespiration, that way. How'd it
ketch?"

"Ount know. 'S comin' by there an' I--whoof! I smelt smoke and--Gosh!
I'm all out o' breath--an' I looked an' I je-e-est could see a
light--wisht I had a drink o' somepin' to rench mum mouth out. Whew! Oh,
laws! An' it was Swope's barn and I run in an' opened the door, didn't
stop to knock or nung, an' I hollered out: 'Yib barn's afire!' an' he
run out in his sockfeet, an' he says: 'My Lord!' he says. 'Linc,' he
says, 'run git the ingine an' I putt." Linc drew in a long, tremulous
breath like a man that has looked on sorrow.

"Why 'n't you--"

"Betchy 't was tramps," interrupted a bystander. "Git in the haymow an'
think they got to have their blamed old pipe a-goin'--"

"Cigarettes, more likely," said another. "More darn devilment comes from
cigarettes--"

"Why'n't you--"

"Ount know nung 'bout tramps," said Linc. "All I seen was the fire. I
was a-comin' long a-past there an' I smelt the smoke an' thinks I--What
say?"

"Why'n't you telefoam down?"

Linc, the hero, shrunk a foot. "I gosh!" he admitted, "I never thought
to."

"Jist'a' telefoamed, you could 'a' saved yourself all that--"

"Ain't they weltin' the daylights out o' that bell? All foolishness! Now
they're ringin' the number--one, two, three, four. Yes, sir, that's up
in the West End. You goin'? Come on, then."

"No, Frank, I can't let you go. You've got your lessons to get. Well,
now, mother, make up your mind if you're comin' along. Cora, what on
earth are you doing out here in the night air with nothing around you?
Now, you mosey right back into that parlor, and don't you make a move
off that piano-stool till your hour's up. Do you hear me? No. Frank.
I told you once you couldn't go and that ends it. Stop your whining! I
can't have you running hither and yon all hours of the night, and we not
know where you are. Well, hurry up, then, mother. Take him in with you.
Oh, just throw a shawl over your head. Nobody 'll see you, or if they
do they won't care." The apparatus trundles by, the bells on the trucks
tolling sadly as the striking gear on the rear axle engages the cam. A
hurrying throng scuffles by in the gloom. The tolling grows fainter, th