He looked so heated just then that we began to imagine he must be a little out of his mind, but Carboline ventured to ask humbly enough what was the matter with the mercury register. "It's out of whack somehow, and won't register correctly. Darn it, I've been shivering in my room for a week, and just couldn't keep warm. I had the thermometer over my writing desk, and the other morning when the steam went down a little I looked at the mercury. It showed forty degrees. "I knew nothing less than a polar bear could work in that temperature, and went hustling after the janitor. "He shook up his furnace, and the steam began to sizzle, but the room wouldn't get warm enough to raise that mercury above 50. "We ran short of coal for a day, and she went down to 40 again, and I went over to stop with a friend till we got more coal. "Then the steam sizzled once more, but the north wind seemed to come in through the window cracks and the shivers had me all over. "I struck for window strips, and had a row with the landlord. "The mercury showed 50 degrees right along, and though I made it hot for the janitor I couldn't get any of it into the blamed thermometer. [Illustration] "Yesterday I gave notice that I would get out if they didn't keep me warm. I'm a bachelor tenant paying a good price and generally no kicker, and they didn't want me to leave. "About an hour ago the janitor came in to see how I was getting along. "He found me at my desk with a blanket around me. He asked if I were sick. I told him I was frozen. "He said he thought the room was very warm. Before licking him I showed him the thermometer and told him that was the real test. "The mercury stood at 50. "The janitor swore and went out. "He came back in a minute with another thermometer and hung it alongside of mine. It was a fine one, guaranteed to keep perfect records. "It marked 65 degrees when he brought it in, and in a minute or two it showed 71. Mine stood still at 50. "The janitor looked at the two machines and began to grin. I began to unwind the blanket that was around me. The janitor looked scared, but I told him not to run; that I wasn't going to lick him. The only man that I felt like licking was the one who sold me a thermometer that wouldn't go. "You're the one. "Now, it's up to you to apologize, give me a machine that is true, or be licked. I've paid my money and you can take your choice." Mr. Carboline preferred to make the change. By the way, before I forget it, let me tell you about young Charlie Suitz, a friend of mine, who is really as modest a chap as you would care to meet. Charlie has a girl upon whom he calls very frequently, and, they tell me, at the most unexpected times. That was probably how it happened he dropped in one afternoon and was informed by her mother that she was upstairs taking a bath, so he told the old lady he only wanted to speak to her for a minute; and she called out: