The Make-Believe Man | Page 5

he has asked me to
call him Forbes. Having first known him as "Joe," I occasionally forget.
"My name is NOT Joe," he said sternly, "and I have as much right to
carry a second-hand bag as a new one. The bag says IT has been to
Europe. It does not say that I have been there."
"But, you probably will," I pointed out, "and then some one who has
really visited those places--"
"Listen!" commanded Kinney. "If you want adventures you must be
somebody of importance. No one will go shares in an adventure with
Joe Kinney, a twenty-dollar-a-week clerk, the human adding machine,
the hall-room boy. But Forbes Kinney, Esq., with a bag from Europe,
and a Harvard ribbon round his hat--"
"Is that a Harvard ribbon round your hat?" I asked.
"It is!" declared Kinney; "and I have a Yale ribbon, and a Turf Club
ribbon, too. They come on hooks, and you hook 'em on to match your
clothes, or the company you keep. And, what's more," he continued,
with some heat, "I've borrowed a tennis racket and a golf bag full of
sticks, and you take care you don't give me away."
"I see," I returned, "that you are going to get us into a lot of trouble."
"I was thinking," said Kinney, looking at me rather doubtfully, "it
might help a lot if for the first week you acted as my secretary, and
during the second week I was your secretary."
Sometimes, when Mr. Joyce goes on a business trip, he takes me with
him as his private stenographer, and the change from office work is
very pleasant; but I could not see why I should spend one week of my
holiday writing letters for Kinney.
"You wouldn't write any letters," he explained. "But if I could tell
people you were my private secretary, it would naturally give me a
certain importance."
"If it will make you any happier," I said, "you can tell people I am a
British peer in disguise."
"There is no use in being nasty about it," protested Kinney. "I am only
trying to show you a way that would lead to adventure."
"It surely would!" I assented. "It would lead us to jail."
The last week in August came, and, as to where we were to go we still

were undecided, I suggested we leave it to chance.
"The first thing," I pointed out, "is to get away from this awful city.
The second thing is to get away cheaply. Let us write down the names
of the summer resorts to which we can travel by rail or by boat for two
dollars and put them in a hat. The name of the place we draw will be
the one for which we start Saturday afternoon. The idea," I urged, "is in
itself full of adventure."
Kinney agreed, but reluctantly. What chiefly disturbed him was the
thought that the places near New York to which one could travel for so
little money were not likely to be fashionable.
"I have a terrible fear," he declared, "that, with this limit of yours, we
will wake up in Asbury Park."
Friday night came and found us prepared for departure, and at midnight
we held our lottery. In a pillow-case we placed twenty slips of paper,
on each of which was written the name of a summer resort. Ten of
these places were selected by Kinney, and ten by myself. Kinney
dramatically rolled up his sleeve, and, plunging his bared arm into our
grab-bag, drew out a slip of paper and read aloud: "New Bedford, via
New Bedford Steamboat Line." The choice was one of mine.
"New Bedford!" shouted Kinney. His tone expressed the keenest
disappointment. "It's a mill town!" he exclaimed. "It's full of cotton
mills."
"That may be," I protested. "But it's also a most picturesque old seaport,
one of the oldest in America. You can see whaling vessels at the wharfs
there, and wooden figure-heads, and harpoons--"
"Is this an expedition to dig up buried cities," interrupted Kinney, "or a
pleasure trip? I don't WANT to see harpoons! I wouldn't know a
harpoon if you stuck one into me. I prefer to see hatpins."
The Patience did not sail until six o'clock, but we were so anxious to
put New York behind us that at five we were on board. Our cabin was
an outside one with two berths. After placing our suit-cases in it, we
collected camp-chairs and settled ourselves in a cool place on the boat
deck. Kinney had bought all the afternoon papers, and, as later I had
reason to remember, was greatly interested over the fact that the young
Earl of Ivy had at last arrived in this country. For some weeks the
papers had been