George looked up in some surprise.

"Why, _there_ you are, little Bright Eyes!" he exclaimed with spirit.
"I was beginnin' to be afraid this sittin' would pass off without a
visit from Uncle George's pet control. Had little Perceval any message
from the Other Side th'safternoon?"

"One or two," assented P. Sybarite gravely. "To begin with, I'm going
to shut up shop in just five minutes; and if you don't want to show
yourself on the street looking like a difference of opinion between a
bull-calf and a fountain pen--"

"Gotcha," interrupted George, rising and putting away handkerchief and
mirror. "I'll drown myself, if you say so. Anythin's better'n letting
you talk me to death."

"One thing more."

Splashing vigorously at the stationary wash-stand, George looked
gloomily over his shoulder, and in sepulchral accents uttered the one
word:

"Shoot!"

"How would you like to go to the theatre to-night?"

George soaped noisily his huge red hands.

"I'd like it so hard," he replied, "that I'm already dated up for an