They Call Me Carpenter | Page 7

way now." And I began
explaining our remarkable system of traffic handling.
But he stopped me in the middle. "Why do we wish to cross the street,
when we have no place to go?"
"I have a place I wish to take you to," I said; "a friend I want you to
meet. Let us cross. "And while I was guiding him between the
automobiles, I was desperately trying to think how to back up my lie.
Who was there that would receive this incredible stranger, and put him
up for the night, and get him into proper clothes, and keep him off the
soap-box?
Truly, I was in an extraordinary position! What had I done to get this
stranger wished onto me? And how long was he going to stay with me?
I found myself recalling the plight of Mary who had a little lamb!
Fate had me in its hands, and did not mean to consult me. We had gone
less than a block further when I heard a voice, "Hello! Billy!" I turned.
Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord! Of all the thankless encounters--Edgerton Rosythe,
moving picture critic of the Western City "Times." Precisely the most
cynical, the most profane, the most boisterous person in a cynical and
profane and boisterous business! And he had me here, in full daylight,
with a figure just out of a stained glass window in St. Bartholomew's
Church!

VII
"Hello, Billy! Who's your good-looking friend?" Rosythe was in full
sail before a breeze of his own making.

How could I answer. "Why--er--"
The stranger spoke. "They call me Carpenter."
"Ah!" said the critic. "Mr. Carpenter, delighted to meet you." He gave
the stranger a hearty grip of the hand. "Are you on location?"
"Location?" said the other; and Rosythe shot an arrow of laughter
towards me. Perhaps he knew about the vagaries of my Aunt Caroline;
anyhow, he would have a fantastic tale to tell about me, and was going
to exploit it to the limit!
I made a pitiful attempt to protect my dignity. "Mr. Carpenter has just
arrived," I began--
"Just arrived, hey?" said the critic. "Oviparous, viviparous, or
oviviparous?" He raised his hand; actually, in the glory of his wit, he
was going to clap the stranger on the shoulder!
But his hand stayed in the air. Such a look as came on Carpenter's face!
"Hush!" he commanded. "Be silent!" And then: "Any man will join in
laughter; but who will join in disease?"
"Hey?" said Rosythe; and it was my turn to grin.
"Mr. Carpenter has just done me a great service," I explained. "I got
badly mauled in the mob--"
"Oh!" cried the other. "At the Excelsior Theatre!" Here was something
to talk about, to cover his bewilderment. "So you were in it! I was
watching them just now."
"Are they still at it?"
"Sure thing!"
"A fine set of boobs," I began--
"Boobs, nothing!" broke in the other. "What do you suppose they're
doing?"
"Saving us from Hun propaganda, so they told me."
"The hell of a lot they care about Hun propaganda! They are earning
five dollars a head."
"What?"
"Sure as you're born!"
"You really know that?"
"Know it? Pete Dailey was at a meeting of the Motion Picture
Directors' Association last night, and it was arranged to put up the
money and hire them. They're a lot of studio bums, doing a real mob
scene on a real location!"

"Well, I'll be damned!" I said. "And what about the police?"
"Police?" laughed the critic. "Would you expect the police to work free
when the soldiers are paid? Why, Jesus Christ----"
"I beg pardon?" said Carpenter.
"Why--er--" said Rosythe; and stopped, completely bluffed.
"You ought not swear," I remarked, gravely; and then, "I must explain.
I got pounded by that mob; I was knocked quite silly, and this
gentleman found me, and healed me in a wonderful way."
"Oh!" said the critic, with genuine interest. "Mind cure, hey? What
line?"
I was about to reply, but Carpenter, it appeared, was able to take care of
himself. "The line of love," he answered, gently.
"See here, Rosythe," I broke in, "I can't stand on the street. I'm
beginning to feel seedy again. I think I'll have a taxi."
"No," said the critic. "Come with me. I'm on the way to pick up the
missus. Right around the corner--a fine place to rest." And without
further ado he took me by the arm and led me along. He was a
good-hearted chap inside; his rowdyisms were just the weapons of his
profession. We went into an office building, and entered an elevator. I
did not know the building, or the offices we came to. Rosythe pushed
open a door, and I saw before me a spacious parlor, with