There wa'n't any use in my tellin' him what I thought, though. He wa'n't talkin' to me, anyway. There was a kind of a far off, batty look in his eyes as he stood there on the corner, and a drop of brine was tricklin'

down one side of his nose. So we never says a word, but just shakes hands, him goin' his way, and me mine.

"Chee!" says Swifty Joe, when I shows up, along about three o'clock, "you must have been puttin' away a hearty lunch!"

"It wa'n't that kept me," says I. "I was helpin' hand a late one to Marthy."

CHAPTER II

HOW MAIZIE CAME THROUGH

Then again, there's other kinds from other States, and no two of 'em alike. They float in from all quarters, some on ten-day excursions, and some with no return ticket. And, of course, they're all jokes to us at first, while we never suspicion that all along we may be jokes to them.

And say, between you and me, we're apt to think, ain't we, that all the rapid motion in the world gets its start right here in New York? Well, that's the wrong dope. For instance, once I got next to a super-energized specimen that come in from the north end of nowhere, and before I was through the experience had left me out of breath.

It was while Sadie and me was livin' at the Perzazzer hotel, before we moved out to Rockhurst-on-the-Sound. Early one evenin' we was sittin', as quiet and domestic as you please, in our twelve by fourteen cabinet finished dinin' room on the seventh floor. We was gazin' out of the open windows watchin' a thunder storm meander over towards Long Island, and Tidson was just servin' the demitasses, when there's a ring on the 'phone. Tidson, he puts down the tray and answers the call.

"It's from the office, sir," says he. "Some one to see you, sir."

"Me?" says I. "Get a description, Tidson, so I'll know what to expect."

At that he asks the room clerk for details, and reports that it's two young ladies by the name of Blickens.

"What!" says Sadie, prickin' up her ears. "You don't know any young women of that name; do you, Shorty?"

"Why not?" says I. "How can I tell until I've looked 'em over?"

"Humph!" says she. "Blickens!"

"Sounds nice, don't it?" says I. "Kind of snappy and interestin'. Maybe I'd better go down and----"

"Tidson," says Sadie, "tell them to send those young persons up here!"

"That's right, Tidson," says I. "Don't mind anything I say."

"Blickens, indeed!" says Sadie, eyin' me sharp, to see if I'm blushin' or gettin' nervous. "I never heard you mention any such name."

"There's a few points about my past life," says I, "that I've had sense enough to keep to myself. Maybe this is one. Course, if your curiosity----"

"I'm not a bit curious, Shorty McCabe," she snaps out, "and you know it!

But when it comes to----"

"The Misses Blickens," says Tidson, holdin' back the draperies with one hand, and smotherin' a grin with the other.

Say, you couldn't blame him. What steps in is a couple of drippy females that look like they'd just been fished out of a tank. And bein' wet wa'n't the worst of it. Even if they'd been dry, they must have looked bad enough; but in the soggy state they was the limit.

They wa'n't mates. One is tall and willowy, while the other is short and dumpy. And the fat one has the most peaceful face I ever saw outside of a pasture, with a reg'lar Holstein-Friesian set of eyes,--the round, calm, thoughtless kind. The fact that she's chewin' gum helps out the dairy impression, too. It's plain she's been caught in the shower and has sopped up her full share of the rainfall; but it don't seem to trouble her any.

There ain't anything pastoral about the tall one, though. She's alive all the way from her runover heels to the wiggly end of the limp feather that flops careless like over one ear. She's the long-waisted, giraffe-necked kind; but not such a bad looker if you can forget the depressin' costume.

It had been a blue cheviot once, I guess; the sort that takes on seven shades of purple about the second season. And it fits her like a damp tablecloth hung on a chair. Her runnin' mate is all in black, and you could tell by the puckered seams and the twisted sleeves that it was an outfit the village dressmaker had done her worst on.

Not that they gives us much chance for a close size-up. The lengthy one pikes right into the middle of the room, brushes a stringy lock of hair off her face, and unlimbers her conversation works.

"Gosh!" says she, openin' her eyes wide and lookin' round at the rugs and furniture. "Hope we haven't pulled up at the wrong ranch. Are you Shorty McCabe?"

"Among old friends, I am," says I, "Now if you come under----"

"It's all right, Phemey," says she, motionin' to the short one. "Sit down."

"Sure!" says I. "Don't mind the furniture. Take a couple of chairs."

"Not for me!" says the tall one. "I'll stand in one spot and drip, and then you can mop up afterwards. But Phemey, she's plumb tuckered."

"It's sweet of you to run in," says I. "Been wadin' in the park lake, or enjoyin' the shower?"

"Enjoying the shower is good," says she; "but I hadn't thought of describing it that way. I reckon, though, you'd like to hear who we are."

"Oh, any time when you get to that," says I.

"That's a joke, is it?" says she. "If it is, Ha, ha! Excuse me if I don't laugh real hearty. I can do better when I don't feel so much like a sponge. Maizie May Blickens is my name, and this is Euphemia Blickens."

"Ah!" says I. "Sisters?"

"Do we look it?" says Maizie. "No! First cousins on the whiskered side.

Ever hear that name Blickens before?"

"Why--er--why----" says I, scratchin' my head.

"Don't dig too deep," says Maizie. "How about Blickens' skating rink in Kansas City?"

"Oh!" says I. "Was it run by a gent they called Sport Blickens?"

"It was," says she.

"Why, sure," I goes on. "And the night I had my match there with the Pedlar, when I'd spent my last bean on a month's trainin' expenses, and the Pedlar's backer was wavin' a thousand-dollar side bet under my nose, this Mr. Blickens chucked me his roll and told me to call the bluff."

"Yes, that was dad, all right," says Maizie.

"It was?" says I. "Well, well! Now if there's anything I can do for----"

"Whoa up!" says Maizie. "This is no grubstake touch. Let's get that off our minds first, though I'm just as much obliged. It's come out as dad said. Says he, 'If you're ever up against it, and can locate Shorty McCabe, you go to him and say who you are.' But this isn't exactly that kind of a case. Phemey and I may look a bit rocky and---- Say, how do we look, anyway? Have you got such a thing as a----"

"Tidson," says Sadie, breakin' in, "you may roll in the pier glass for the young lady." Course, that reminds me I ain't done the honors.

"Excuse me," says I. "Miss Blickens, this is Mrs. McCabe."