"Tut, tut. Not a peep out of you, sir. Not a peep. You get nothing for
nothing from Skinner or me. However, in view of the fact that you're
feeling kindly toward me this afternoon, I wish you'd do a little errand
for me. I can't send a boy and I hate to make a messenger out of
you--er--ah--ahem! That is har-umph-h-h--!"

"I have no false pride, Mr. Ricks."

"Thank you, Bill. Glad you feel that way about it. Bill, I was prowling
around town this forenoon, after church, and down in a store on Sutter
Street, between Stockton and Powell Street, on the right hand side as
you face Market Street, I saw a blue vase in a window. I have a weakness
for vases, Bill. I'm a sharp on them, too. Now, this vase I saw isn't
very expensive as vases go--in fact, I wouldn't buy it for my
collection--but one of the finest and sweetest ladies of my acquaintance
has the mate to that blue vase I saw in the window, and I know she'd be
prouder than Punch if she had two of them--one for each side of her
drawing room mantel, understand?

"Now, I'm leaving from the Southern Pacific depot at eight o'clock
tonight, bound for Santa Barbara to attend her wedding anniversary
tomorrow night. I forget what anniversary it is, Bill, but I have been
informed by my daughter that I'll be very much _de trop_ if I send her
any present other than something in porcelain or China or
Cloisonné--well. Bill, this crazy little blue vase just fills the order.
Understand?"

"Yes, sir. You feel that it would be most graceful on your part if you
could bring this little blue vase down to Santa Barbara with you
tonight. You have to have it tonight, because if you wait until the