I'd suspected she wouldn't. But how was I going to dope out to her clear and straight what's so muddled up in my own head? You know, all about how Annie got her cough, and my feelin's towards the firms that's sweatin' the Tiscotts, from the baby up, and a lot of other things that I can't state. "As I said," goes on Miss Colliver, "I hardly think I understand." "Me either," says I. "My head's just a merry go round of whys and whatfors. But, as far as that fund of yours goes, I don't come in." "Humph!" says she. "That, at least, is quite definite. Home, Hutchins!" And there I am left on the curb lookin' foolish. Me, I don't ride back to the studio on any broadcloth cushions! Serves me right too, I expect. I feels mean and low down all the rest of the day, until I gets some satisfaction by huntin' up Tony and throwin' such a scare into him that he goes out and finds a porter's job and swears by all that's holy he'll take up with the fam'ly again. But think of the chance I passed up of breakin' into the high toned philanthropy class! CHAPTER XVI CLASSING TUTWATER RIGHT Maybe that brass plate had been up in the lower hall of our buildin' a month or so before I takes any partic'lar notice of it. Even when I did get my eye on it one mornin' it only gets me mildly curious. "Tutwater, Director of Enterprises, Room 37, Fourth Floor," is all it says on it. "Huh!" thinks I. "That's goin' some for a nine by ten coop under the skylight." And with that I should have let it drop, I expect. But what's the use? Where's the fun of livin', if you can't mix in now and then. And you know how I am. Well, I comes pikin' up the stairs one day not long after discoverin' the sign, and here on my landin', right in front of the studio door, I finds this Greek that runs the towel supply wagon usin' up his entire United States vocabulary on a strange gent that he's backed into a corner. "Easy, there, easy, Mr. Poulykopolis!" says I. "This ain't any golf links, where you can smoke up the atmosphere with language like that. What's the row, anyway?" "No pay for five week; always nex' time, he tells, nex' time. Gr-r-r-r! I am strong to slap his life out, me!" says Pouly, thumpin' his chest and shakin' his black curls. They sure are fierce actin' citizens when they're excited, these Marathoners. "Yes, you would!" says I. "Slap his life out? G'wan! If he handed you one jolt you wouldn't stop runnin' for a week. How big is this national debt you say he owes you! How much?" "Five week!" says Pouly. "One dollar twenty-five." "Sufferin' Shylocks! All of that? Well, neighbor," says I to the strange gent, "has he stated it correct?" "Perfectly, sir, perfectly," says the party of the second part. "I do not deny the indebtedness in the least. I was merely trying to explain to this agent of cleanliness that, having been unable to get to the bank this morning, I should be obliged to----"