plays and garden cities, but in the ordinary
common-sense way of the world. Here you are, young, strong, educated,
intelligent----"

"I'm not strong," said Doggie.

"Oh, shucks! A month's exercise would make you as strong as a mule.
Here you are--what the blazes are you going to do with yourself?"

"I don't admit that you have any right to question me," said Doggie,
lighting a cigarette.

"Peggy has given it to me. We had a heart to heart talk this morning,
I assure you. She called me a swaggering, hectoring barbarian. So I
told her what I'd do. I said I'd come here and squeak like a little
mouse and eat out of your hand. I also said I'd take you out with me
to the Islands and give you a taste for fresh air and salt water and
exercise. I'll teach you how to sail a schooner and how to go about
barefoot and swab decks. It's a life for a man out there, I tell you.
If you've nothing better to do than living here snug like a flea on a
dog's back, until you get married, you'd better come."

Doggie smiled pityingly, but said politely:

"Your offer is very kind, Oliver; but I don't think that kind of life
would suit me."

"Oh yes it would," said Oliver. "It would make you healthy,
wealthy--if you took a fancy to put some money into the pearl
fishery--and wise. I'd show you the world, make a man of you, for
Peggy's sake, and teach you how men talk to one another in a gale of
wind."

The door opened and Peddle appeared.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Oliver--but your man----"

"Yes? What about him? Is he misbehaving himself? Kissing the maids?"

"No, sir," said Peddle--"but none of them can get on with their work.
He has drunk two quart jugs of beer and wants a third."

"Well, give it to him."

"I shouldn't like to see the man intoxicated, sir," said Peddle.

"You couldn't. No one has or ever will."

"He is also standing on his head, sir, in the middle of the kitchen
table."

"It's his great parlour-trick. You just try to do it,
Peddle--especially after two quarts of beer. He's showing his
gratitude, poor chap--just like the juggler of Notre-Dame in the
story. And I'm sure everybody's enjoying themselves?"

"The maids are nearly in hysterics, sir."

"But they're quite happy?"

"Too happy, sir."

"Lord!" cried Oliver, "what a lot of stuffy owls you are! What do you
want me to do? What would you like me to do, Doggie? It's your house."

"I don't know," said Doggie. "I've had nothing to do with such people.
P