"Oh, Hope Springs, internal instead of eternal!" he said. "That's
awfully bad, isn't it? To tell you the truth, I think I'd better come in
and get some; I'm short on hope just now."

I thought that was likely enough, for although his voice was cheerful
and his eyes smiled, there was a drawn look around his mouth, and he
hadn't shaved that day. I wish I had had as much experience in learning
what's right with folks as I have had in learning what's wrong with
them.

"You'd better come in and get warm, anyhow," I told him, "only don't
spring any more gags. I've been 'Hebe' for fourteen years and I've
served all the fancy drinks you can name over the brass railing of that
spring. Nowadays, when a fellow gets smart and asks for a Mamie Taylor,
I charge him a Mamie Taylor price."

He shut the door behind him and came over to the fire.

"I'm pretty well frozen," he said. "Don't be astonished if I melt before
your eyes; I've been walking for hours."

Now that I had a better chance to see him I'd sized up that drawn look
around his mouth.

"Missed your luncheon, I suppose," I said, poking the fire log. He
grinned rather sheepishly.

"Well, I haven't had any, and I've certainly missed it," he said.