Strong lifted a fatherly forefinger. "Naughty naughty! Shouldn' call
brother fool. Danger hell fire if you call brother fool. Nev' min',
Recky--we un'stand each other. Two fools. I'm go'n behave." He knocked
his derby in the back so it rested on his nose, stuck his chin up to
meet it, and started off in the most unmistakable semblance of a tipsy
man to be met anywhere. "See me behavin'?" he remarked sidewise, with a
gleam of rollicking deviltry out of his eyes.

Christopher Street ferry was reached safely by a miracle, and inside the
ferry-house Strong made a bee line for a truck and threw his great body
full length upon it with a loud yawn of joy. "So tired," he remarked.
"Go'n have good nap now," and he closed his eyes peacefully.

"See here, Billy, this won't do. You said you had to meet a girl--what
about that?"

[Illustration: "So tired" he remarked. "Go'n have good nap now"]

"Oh, tha's all right," Billy agreed easily. "You meet girl--tell her you
got me drunk," and he turned over and prepared for slumber. Strenuous
argument was necessary to rouse him even to half a sense of
responsibility. "Recky, dear, you--'noy me," he said with severity,
coming to a sitting position and contemplating Rex with mild
displeasure. "What kin' girl? Why, jes' girly-girl. Lovely blue-eyed
girly-girl--kind of girl--colored hair,"--he swept his hand
descriptively over his own black locks. "Wears sort of--skirts, you
know--you 'member the kind. All of 'em same thing--well, she wears 'em
too. Tha's all," and he dropped heavily back to the truck and retired
into his coat collar.