Mortimer's health O. K.; disposition ragged; business prospects punk.

Hoping you are the same,

TORCHY.


It's a wonder Mortimer didn't have mental indigestion, with all that
load of gilt-edged advice on his mind, and I wa'n't lookin' for him to
lug it much further'n the door; but, if you'll believe me, he seems to
take it serious. Every mornin' after that I finds his hat on the hook
when I come in, and whenever I gets a glimpse of him durin' the day he
has his coat off and is makin' a noise like the busy bee. At this it
takes some time before he makes an impression on Miller; but fin'lly
Morty comes out to me with a bulletin that seems to tickle him all over.

"What do you know?" says he. "When Miller was looking over some of my
work to-day he breaks out with, 'Very good, Upton. Keep it up.'"

"Well, I expect you told him to chase himself, eh?" says I.

"No," says Mortimer. "I sprung that new scheme of mine for filing the
back records, and perhaps he's going to adopt it."

"Think of that!" says I. "Say, you keep on, and you'll be presented
with that job for life. But, honest, you don't find Miller such a
fish, do you?"

"Oh, I guess he's all right in his way," says Mortimer.