"And then come without fail," he said.

"Yes, Mr. Beecher," I replied. How commanding he was! Strong but tender!

"And if anyone comes around making a noise, before that, you shoot them
for me, will you?"

"SHOOT them?"

"Drive them off, or use a Bean-shooter. Anything. But don't yell at
them. It distracts me."

It was a Sacred trust. I, and only I, stood between him and his MAGNUM
OPUM. I sat down on the steps of our bath-house, and took up my vigel.

It was about five o'clock when I heard Jane approaching. I knew it was
Jane, because she always wears tight shoes, and limps when unobserved.
Although having the reputation of the smallest foot of any girl in our
set in the city, I prefer Comfort and Ease, unhampered by heals--French
or otherwise. No man will ever marry a girl because she wears a small
shoe, and catches her heals in holes in the Boardwalk, and has to soak
her feet at night before she can sleep. However----

Jane came on, and found me croutched on the doorstep, in a lowly
attatude, and holding my finger to my lips.

She stopped and stared at me.

"Hello," she said. "What do you think you are? A Statue?"