"Well, suh," I says, "I wuz aimin' to pick up a few p'inters yere an' thar fur future use. An' ef the wust comes to the wust," I says, "I kin get me a pair of these yere tall yaller leather leggin's an' a megaphome an' ack influential an' mebbe I could thar'by git by," I says. "Some of the white directors are getting by with about that much equipment," he says. "Perhaps you could, too. Well, anyhow, the venture has my best wishes for its success. I can promise you a little more than that: It's probable that later on I can throw some business in your way." "Thanky, suh, mos' kindly," I says. "'At wuz mainly whut I wuz hopin' fur." "Do you need any funds to help you out in financing your undertaking?" he says. "Naw suh, I thinks not," I says. "I got some ready cash on hand an' my partner he's goin' put in a amount ekel to whut I risks. Ef I needs any more on top of 'at, I aims to ast Mr. Dallas Pulliam fur a small loan." Then I tells him we lives at the Wheatley Court so he can write to me there as soon as he is ready to proceed ahead, and I bids him good-bye and goes back on up-town with hope singing inside of me like one of these here yellow-breast field-larks down home. It turns out though it's a good thing we don't need no borrowed capital from Mr. Dallas' pocketbook at the outsetting because in lessen two months from that time Old Miss Bad Luck starts shooting at him with the scatter-gun of trouble, both barrels at once. Which I will go into full details about all that mess the next time I takes my pen in hand. CHAPTER XIII _Private Life_ It seems to me it's highly suitable that I should get to the edge of telling about Mr. Dallas' misfortunate visitations just as Chapter the Thirteenth is starting, which, as everybody knows full well already, thirteen is the unluckiest number there is in the whole alphabet. When you projects with old Lady Thirteen you flirts with sudden disaster. With Mr. Dallas, though, his troubles don't come on all at once, like a stroke; they comes on sort of gradual, one behind the other, like the symptoms of a lingering complaint. Up to a certain point everything with us has gone along very lovely, the same as usual, with parties occurring regular at the apartment and the Japanee boy cooking up fancy mixtures, and me serving drinks by the drove. Thanksgiving time we has a special blow-out with twelve setting down to the table at once.