That's my suggestion. We shan't feel like stopping for a lot of silly
letters--By the way, sir, when do you expect to start on the romance?"
He usually spoke of them as romances. They were not novels to
Poopendyke.

I came to my feet, the light of adventure in my eye.

"This very instant, Poopendyke," I exclaimed.

His face brightened. He loves work.

"Splendid! I will have your writing tablets ready in--"

"First of all, we _must_ have a ladder. Have you seen to that?"

"A ladder?" he faltered, putting one foot back through the window in
a most suggestive way.

"Oh," said I, remembering, "I haven't told you, have I? Look! Up there
in that window. Do you see _that_?"

"What is it, sir? A rug?"

"Rug! Great Scott, man, don't you know a woman's hair when you see it?"

"I've never--er--never seen it--you might say--just like that. Is it
_hair_?"

"It is. You _do_ see it, don't you?"