Somewhere or other the legend has sprung up that, as soon as the family
goes away for the summer, Daddy brushes the hair over his bald spot,
ties up his shoes, and goes out on a whirlwind trip through the hellish
districts of town. The funny papers are responsible for this, just as
they are responsible for the idea that all millionaires are fat and that
Negroes are inordinately fond of watermelons.

I will not deny that for just about four minutes after the train has
left, bearing Mother, Sister, Junior, Ingabog and the mechanical walrus
on their way to Anybunkport, Daddy is suffused with a certain queer
feeling of being eleven years old and down-town alone for the first time
with fifteen cents to spend on anything he wants. The city seems to
spread itself out before him just ablaze with lights and his feet rise
lightly from the ground as if attached to toy balloons. I do not deny
that his first move is to straighten his tie.

But five minutes would be a generous allowance for the duration of this
foot-loose elation. As he leaves the station he suddenly becomes aware
of the fact that no one else has heard about his being fancy-free.
Everyone seems to be going somewhere in a very important manner. A great
many people, oddly enough seem to be going home. Ordinarily he would be
going home, too. But there would not be much sense in going home now,
without--. But come, come, this is no way to feel! Buck up, man! How
about a wild oat or two?

Around at the club the doorman says that Mr. McNartly hasn't been in all
afternoon and that Mr. Freem was in at about four-thirty but went out
again with a bag. There is no one in the lounge whom he ever saw before.
A lot of new members must have been taken in at the last meeting. The
club is running down fast. He calls up Eddie Mastayer's office but he