Does Sadie know anything about the Marstons? Well, rather! Says she told me all about 'em at the time too; but if she did it must have got by.

Anyway, this was just a plain, simple case of a worthless son marryin'

the fam'ly governess and bein' thrown out for it by a stern parent, same as they always are in them English novels Sadie's forever readin'.

The Marstons was Madison-ave. folks, which means that their back yard was bounded on the west by the smart set--and that's as far as there's any need of going. The girl comes from 'Frisco and is an earthquake orphan.

Hence the governess stunt. As for young Marston, he'd been chucked out of college, tried out for a failure in the old man's brokerage office, and then left to drift around town on a skimpy allowance. So he was in fine shape to get married! The girl sticks to him, though, until there's trouble with the landlady, and then, when he only turns ugly and makes no move towards gettin' a job, she calls it off, gives him the slip, and begins rustlin' for herself.

"Oh, well," says Pinckney, "I suppose she ought to have a chance. But if that husband of hers is going to----"

"Next time you catch him at it," says I, "just 'phone down for me. It'll be a pleasure."

I meant it too; for after hearing how she'd lost other places on account of his hangin' around I could have enjoyed mussin' him up some.

With my feelin' that way, you can guess what a jar it is, one afternoon when I'm having a little front office chat with my old reg'lar, Pyramid Gordon, to see this same gent blow in through the door. Almost looked like he knew what he ought to get and had come after it.

"Well?" says I as chilly as I knew how.

"Quite so," says he, "quite so. I see you remember our recent meeting.

Awkward situation for a moment, wasn't it, eh? Splendid chap, though, your friend----"

"Say, choke off the hot air," says I, "and let's hear what gave you the courage to climb those stairs!"

And what do you guess? He takes five minutes of steady chinnin' to get around to it; but he puts over such a velvety line of talk, and it's so int'restin' to watch him do it, that I let him spiel ahead until he gets to the enactin' clause in his own way. And it's nothing more or less than a brassy fingered touch for a twenty, all based on the fact that he met me at a house where his wife's drawin' wages.

"Mr. Gordon," says I, turnin' to Pyramid, who's heard it all, "what do you think of that, anyway?"

"Very neat, indeed," says Pyramid, chucklin'.

"And then a few!" says I. "I can almost see myself givin' up that twenty right off the bat. Nothing but great presence of mind and wonderful self-control holds me back. But look here, Mr. What's-your-name----"

"Marston," says he, flashin' an engraved visitin' card, "L. Egbert Marston."

"L. Egbert, eh?" says I. "Does the L stand for Limed? And what do they call you for short--Eggie?"

"Oh, suit yourself," says he, with a careless wave of the hand.

"All right, Eggie," says I; "but before we get in any deeper I've got a conundrum or two to spring on you. We got kind of curious, Pinckney and me, about that visit of yours. He thinks we disturbed a fond embrace. It looked diff'rent to me. I thought I could see finger-marks on the young lady's throat. How about it?"

Course he flushes up. Any man would under a jab like that, and I looked for him either to begin breakin' the peace or start lyin' out of it.

There's considerable beef to Egbert, you know. He'd probably weigh in at a hundred and eighty, with all that flabby meat on him, and if it wa'n't for that sort of cheap look to his face you might take him for a real man. But he don't show any more fight than a cow. He don't even put in any indignant "Not guilty!" He just shrugs his shoulders and indulges in a sickly laugh.

"It doesn't sound nice," says he; "but sometimes they do need a bit of training, these women."

"For instance?" says I. "In the matter of handing over a little spendin'

money, eh?"

"You've struck it," says he, with another shrug.

I glances at Pyramid; but there wa'n't any more expression to that draw poker face of his than as if it was a cement block.

"Egbert," says I, frank and confidential, "you're a sweet scented pill, ain't you?"

And does that draw any assault and battery motions? It don't. All the result is to narrow them shifty eyes of his and steady 'em down until he's lookin' me square in the face.

"I was hard up, if you want to know," says he. "I didn't have a dollar."

"And that," says I, "is what you give out as an excuse for----"

"Yes," he breaks in. "And I'm no worse than lots of other men, either.

With money, I'm a gentleman; without it--well, I get it any way I can.

And I want to tell you, I've seen men with plenty of it get more in meaner ways. I don't know how to juggle stocks, or wreck banks, or use any of the respectable methods that----"

"Nothing personal, I hope," puts in Mr. Gordon, with another chuckle.

"Not so intended," says Marston.

"Eh, thanks," says Pyramid.

"We'll admit," says I, "that your partic'lar way of raisin' funds, Mr.

Marston, ain't exactly novel; but didn't it ever occur to you that some folks get theirs by workin' for it?"

"I know," says he, tryin' to seem good natured again; "but I'm not that kind. I'm an idler. As some poet has put it, 'Useless I linger, a cumberer here.'"

"You're a cucumber, all right," says I; "but why not, just for a change, make a stab at gettin' a job?"

"I've had several," says he, "and never could hold one more than a week.

Too monotonous, for one thing; and then, in these offices, one is thrown among so many ill bred persons, you know."

"Sure!" says I, feelin' my temper'ture risin'. "Parties that had rather work for a pay envelope than choke their wives. I've met 'em. I've heard of your kind too, Egbert; but you're the first specimen I ever got real close to. And you're a bird! Mr. Gordon, shall I chuck him through the window, or help him downstairs with my toe?"

"I wouldn't do either," says Pyramid. "In fact, I think I can make use of this young man."

"Then you're welcome to him," says I. "Blaze ahead."

"Much obliged," says Pyramid. "Now, Mr. Marston, what is the most reasonable sum, per month, that would allow you to carry out your idea of being a gentleman?"

Egbert thinks that over a minute and then puts it at three hundred.

"And would it conflict with those ideas," Pyramid goes on, "if you were required, say twice a week, to spend an hour in a private office, signing your name?"

Egbert thinks he could stand that.

"Very well, then," says Pyramid, producin' his checkbook and gettin' busy with the fountain pen, "here is your first month's salary in advance.

Whenever you find it convenient during the week, report at my offices.

Ask for Mr. Bradley. Yes, Bradley. That's all," and Pyramid lights up one of his torches as satisfied as though he'd just bought in a Senator.

As for Egbert, he stows the check away, taps me on the shoulder, and remarks real friendly, "Well, professor, no hard feelings, I hope?"

"Say, Eggie," says I, "seems to me I expressed myself once on that point, and I ain't had any sudden change of heart. If I was you I'd beat while the beatin's good."