“O surely yes!” obligate Hon. Mrs. “We have splandid view of the airshaft from library window and our dinning-room overlook some of the finest advertising signs in the city.” “So fortunate you are with so much room!” say lady wearing diamond bib on chest. “In our apartment we are pusitively crowded.” No one could believe it. “Why do you keep a canary?” ask one gentleman of one lady. “Because I have no room for a parrot,” say one lady to one gentleman. And so onward. My cookery is deliciously abominable, thank you, in that 1-8 size kitchen. Yet those N. Y. persons is so refined they can disguise any taste by politeness. “You have a chef, I suspect?” require one brokerish gentleman gnawing my chicken crokets. “Two of them,” deceive Mrs Jinx with 5th Ave expression. I arrive to room looking proud with dishes. “This Togo are my faithful butler inherited from my grandfather who was a lawyer and kept many retainers.” I am alarmed to hear such large conversation in such small space. And yet I acted very intelligent, considering my stupidity. My life in that compartment become more and more homeless as time relapsed. Hon. Mrs Jinx were the most stay-away lady I ever seen. She say she go out to get the air; and I could not blame her. For 2 entire weeks she was somewheres else all time. In early a. m. after 10 o’clock she go down town for get hats, manicure & other jewelry. By noon she telephone, “I shall not be home lunch, because I am too busy wasting time with Mrs Swatts-Byng.” By night she telephone, “I shall not be home dinner, because I am taking my Husband to eat at Astoria hotel, afterwards we shall go see musical-comical theater.” Lonesomeness arrived to me as much as that apartment would hold. It were true I could breathe more with less persons taking up room; yet my thoughts became all by themselves. I feel like Hon. Robinson Caruso on a vacant island. One early a. m. Hon. Mrs uprose for breakfast early at 11 o’clock. She approach to me with tear-drop eye. “Togo,” she say, “you have been with me 5 entire weeks. Therefore you can be considered the oldest family servant in N. Y. I shall reward you with bad news. My Husband has did so much brokerage in Wall Street that he has broke. Therefore, we shall be more tight compressed than usual.” “How could it?” I ask feelishly. “We must move to a smaller flat,” she glub. “Will you faithfully follow us thereto?” “Mrs Madam,” I entrench, “I might do faithfully what you say. I might follow you to smaller flat, but how could I squeeze in when I got there? Excuse me while I go to Arizona where I can stand with 1000 miles on each side of me and can turn over in bed without wounding my elbows on a washstand. Indians does not live so high as New Yorkers, but they lives much broader.”