"Hoojer wanter see?"

"Is the editor in?"

"Whajjer want uvvum?"

The tall visitor stepped forward, holding out a card. "Take this to him,
please, and say that I'd like to see him at once."

Unwisely, Reginald disregarded the card, which fluttered to the floor.
More unwisely, he ignored a certain tensity of expression upon the face
of his interlocutor. Most unwisely he repeated, in his very savagest
growl:

"Whajjer want uvvum, I said. Didn' chu hear me?"

Graceful and effortless as the mounting lark, Reginald Currier rose and
soared. When he again touched earth, it was only to go spinning into a
far corner where he first embraced, then strove with and was finally
tripped and thrown by a large and lurking waste-basket. Somewhat
perturbed, he extricated himself in time to see the decisive visitor
disappear through an inner door. Retrieving the crumpled and rejected
card from its resting-place, he examined it with interest. The legend
upon it was "Mr. Harrington Surtaine."

"Huh!" grunted Reginald Currier; "I never seen _that_ in no sporting
column."

Once within the sacred precincts, young Mr. Surtaine turned into an