Torchy, Private Sec. | Page 9

more amusing, I fancy. I will
arrange it."
"I'd like to have old Rowley on the side lines, in case I get stuck," says
I.
"Oh, certainly," says he. "Bring Mr. Rowley if you wish. And if there
are any preparations you would like to make----"
"I got one or two," says I, startin' for the door; "so mark me off until
about to-morrow noon."
Busy? Well, say, a kitten with four feet stuck in the flypaper didn't have
anything on me. I streaks it for Sixth-ave. and lands in Rowley's loft all
out of breath.
"What's up?" says he.
"The case of Briscoe et al. vs. Rowley," says I. "It's to be threshed out
before the full Corrugated board to-morrow at two-thirty. I'm the
counsel for the defense."
"Well, what of it?" says he.
"I want to use you as Exhibit A," says I, "in case of an emergency."
"All right," says he. "I'll go along if you say so."
"Good!" says I. And then came the hard part. "Rowley," I goes on,
"what size collar do you wear?"
"But what has that to do with it?" says he.

"Now don't get peeved," says I; "but you know the kind our directors
are,--flossy, silk-lined old sports, most of 'em; and they're apt to size up
strangers a good deal by their haberdashery. So I was wonderin' if I
couldn't blow you to a neat, pleated bosom effect with attached cuffs."
"Oh, I see," says Rowley, glancin' at his gray flannel workin' shirt.
"Anything else?"
"I don't expect you'd want to part with that face shrubbery, or have it
landscaped into a Vandyke, eh?" says I. "You know they ain't wearin'
the bushy kind now in supertax circles."
"Would you insist on my being manicured too?" says he, chucklin'
easy.
"It would help," says I. "And this would be my buy all round."
"That's a generous offer, Son," says he, "and I don't know how long it's
been since anyone has taken so much personal interest in Old Hen
Rowley. Seems nice too. I suppose I am rather a shabby old duffer to
be visiting the offices of great and good corporations. Yes, I'll spruce
up a bit; and if I find it costs more than I can afford--now let's see how
my cash stands."
With that he digs into a hip pocket and unlimbers a roll of corn-tinted
kale the size of your wrist. Maybe they wa'n't all hundreds clear to the
core, but that's what was on the outside.
"Whiffo!" says I. "Excuse me for classin' you so near the bread line; but
by your campin' in a loft, and the longshoreman's shirt, and so on----"
"Very natural, Son," he breaks in. "And I see your point all the clearer.
I've no business going about so. The whiskers shall be trimmed. But
your people up at the Corrugated have evidently made up their minds to
turn us down."
"Maybe," says I; "but if they do, it won't be on any snap decision of
Briscoe's. And unless I get tongue tied at the last minute we're goin' to

have a run for our money."
That was what worried me most,--could I come across with the standin'
spiel? But, believe me, I wa'n't trustin' to any offhand stuff! I'd got to
know in advance what I meant to feed 'em, line for line and word for
word. By ten o'clock that night I had it all down on paper too--and
perhaps I didn't chew the penholder and leak some from the brow while
I was doin' it!
Then came the rehearsin'. Say, you should have seen me risin' dignified
behind the washstand in my room, strikin' a Bill Bryan pose, and
smilin' calm at the bedposts as I launched out on my speech. Not that I
was tryin' to chuck any flowers of oratory. What I aimed to do was to
tell 'em about Rowley's schemes as simple and straight away as I could,
usin' one-syllable words for the most part, cannin' the slang, and
soundin' as many final G's as my tongue would let me. Before I turned
in too, I had it almost pat; but I hardly dared to go to sleep for fear it
would get away from me.
Say, but it ain't any cinch, this breakin' into public life, is it? The
obscure guy with the dinner pail and the calloused palms thinks he has
hard lines; but when the whistle blows he can wipe his trowel on his
overalls and forget it all until next day. But here I tosses around restless
in the feathers, and am up at daybreak goin' over my piece again,
trembly in the knees, with a vivid mental picture of how cheap I'd feel
if I should go to pieces when the