"The Mayor," said the secretary with an amazing mixture of condescension and uneasiness, as of a man calling on a poor friend in whose parlor there is shabby furniture but in whose cellar there is a ton of dynamite--"the Mayor knows nothing about your asso--of the _dinner_ of your association." The secretary looked pleased at having caught himself in time. "Why, I wrote," began H. Rutgers, with annoyance, "over a week--" He silenced himself while he opened his frock-coat, tilted back his high hat from a corrugated brow, and felt in his pocket. It is the delivery, not the speech, that distinguishes the great artist. Otherwise writers would be considered intelligent people. "Hell!" exclaimed Hendrik, looking at the secretary so fixedly and angrily that the ex-reporter flinched. "It's in the other coat. I mean the copy of the letter I sent the Mayor exactly a week ago to-day. I wondered why he hadn't answered." "He never got it," the secretary hastened to say. Hendrik laughed. "You must excuse my language; but you know what it is to arrange all the details of an annual meeting and banquet--menu, decorations, music, _and_ speeches. Well, here is the situation: the annual dinner of the National Street Advertising Men's Association will be held at Weinpusslacher's. Reception at six; dinner at eight; speeches begin about ten. "What day?" asked the secretary. "My head is in a whirl, and I don't-- Let me see-- Oh yes. Next Saturday, April twenty-ninth. I'll send you tickets. Do you think the Mayor will come?" "I don't know. Saturdays he goes to his farm in Hartsdale." "Yes, I know; but couldn't _you_ induce him to come? By George! there is nothing our association wouldn't do for you in return." "I'll see," promised the secretary, with a far-away look in his eyes as if he were devising ways and means. Oh, he earned his salary, even if he was a Celt. "Thank you. And-- Oh yes, by the way, some of our members will arrive at the Grand Central Station Saturday afternoon. Any objections to our marching with a band of music down the avenue to the Colossal? We'll wear our association badges; they are hummers." He felt in his coat-tails. "I wish I had some with me. Is it necessary to have a permit to parade?" "Yes; but there will be no trouble about that." "Oh, thanks. Will you fix that for us? I've got to go to Wall Street after one of the bankers on the list of speakers, and I'll be back in about an hour. Could I have the Mayor's acceptance and the permit to parade then? You see, it's only a couple of days and I hate to trust the mail. Thank you. It's very kind of you, and we appreciate it." The secretary pulled out a letter and a pencil from his pocket as if to make a note on the back of the envelope, and so Hendrik Rutgers dictated: "_The National Street Advertising Men's Association._ Altogether about one hundred and fifty members and one band of music. So long, and thank you very much, Mr.--er--" "McDevitt.