know I am a good fellow, so I cried, too. I always cry some time
during a bat, and there was an opening for your life. I cried so
hard that the bartender had to ask me to stop three different
times. I made Niobe look like a two spot. Between sobs I asked
him about the sad affair, and found that his mother had died
when he was born. I guess it had just struck him. Then there
were doings.

I had wasted a wad of cries that would float the Maine, and I was
sore for fair. A fat fellow cut into the argument, and some one
soaked him in the eye, and then, as they say in Texas, "there was
three minutes rough house." In the general bustle a seedy looking
man pinched the Fresh Air Fund, box and all. You know I'm not much
for the bat cave, and to avoid such after-complications as patrol
wagons and things, I blew the bunch and started up street. I guess
the wind must have been against me, as I was tacking.

I met Johnny Black, and he was going to keep a date with a couple
of swell heiresses at one of the hotel dining-rooms. I saw them
on the street to-day, and they won't do. One of them wore an
amethyst ring that weighed about sixty carats, and the other
had on white slippers covered with little beads.

I don't know anything about them, but I'll gamble that they are
the kind of people that have pictures of the family and wreaths
in the parlor. They looked fine and daisy last night, though.
Probably the grape. My girl's name was Estelle. Wouldn't that
scald you? Estelle handed me a lot of talk about having seen
me on the street for the last two years, and how she had always
been dying to meet me, and I got swelled up and bought wine like