CHAPTER XV

BEING SICCED ON PERCEY

Maybe it ain't figured in the headlines, or been noised around enough
for the common stockholders to get panicky over it, but, believe me, it
was some battle! Uh-huh! What else could you expect with Old Hickory
Ellins on one side and George Wesley Jones on the other? And me? Say,
as it happens, I was right on the firin' line. Talk about your drummer
boys of '61--I guess the office boy of this A. M. ain't such a dead one!

Course I knew when Piddie begins tiptoein' around important, and Mr.
Robert cuts his lunchtime down to an hour, that there's something in
the air besides humidity.

"Boy," says Old Hickory, shootin' his words out past the stub of a
thick black cigar, "I'm expecting a Mr. Jones sometime this afternoon."

"Yes, Sir," says I. "Any particular Jones, Sir?"

"That," says he, "is a detail with which you need not burden your mind.
I am not anticipating a convention of Joneses."

"Oh!" says I. "I was only thinkin' that in case some other guy by the
same names should----"

"Yes, I understand," he breaks in; "but in that remote contingency I
will do my best to handle the situation alone. And when Mr. Jones
comes show him in at once. After that I am engaged for the remainder
of the day. Is that quite clear?"