"I am a child of light--Oh, dear me!--of light and goodness!" he was pantin' out. "Evil and fear and--Oh, my poor back!--and pain are creatures of--Oh my, oh my!--of darkness! Nothing can harm me!" "Say, something is goin' to harm you mighty sudden," says I, "if you don't let me up out of this." "Oh, my life blood!" he groans. "I can feel my life blood! Oh, oh! I am a child of----" "Ah, slush!" says I. "Get up and shake yourself. Think I'm a bloomin' prayer rug that you can squat on all day? Roll over!" and I manages to hand him a short arm punch in the ribs that stirs him up enough so I can slide out from under. Soon's I get on my feet and can hop around once or twice I finds there's no bones stickin' through, and then I turns to have a look at him. And say, I wouldn't have missed that exhibition for twice the shakin' up I got! There he is, stretched out on the wet turf, his eyelids flutterin', his breath comin' fast, and his two hands huggin' tight what's left of that bu'sted paper bag, right up against the front of his preacher's vest. And can you guess what's happened to them eggs? "Oh, my life blood!" he keeps on moanin'. "I can feel it oozing through----" "Ah, you're switched, Toodle!" says I. "Your brain kodak is out of register, that's all. It ain't life blood you're losin'; it's only your new laid omelet that's leakin' over your vest front." About then I gets a squint at Sadie and Mrs. Purdy-Pell, and they're almost chokin' to death in a funny fit. Well, say, that was the finish of Toodleism with the Rockywold bunch. The Doc. didn't have a scratch nor a bruise on him, and after he'd been helped up and scraped off, he was almost as good as new. But his conversation works is clogged for good, and he has his chin down on his collar. They sends him and Violet down to catch the next train, and Sadie and Mrs. Purdy-Pell spends the rest of the day givin' imitations of how Toodle hugged up the eggs and grunted that he was a child of light. "Not that I don't believe there was something in what he said," Sadie explains to me afterwards; "only--only----" "Only he was a false alarm, eh?" says I. "Well, Violet wa'n't that kind, anyway." "Pooh!" says she. "I suppose you'll brag about Violet for the rest of your life." Can you keep 'em guessin' long, when it comes to things of that kind? Not if they're like Sadie. CHAPTER XV THE CASE OF THE TISCOTTS What I had on the slate for this part'cular afternoon was a brisk walk up Broadway as far as the gasoline district and a little soothin' conversation with Mr. Cecil Slattery about the new roadster he's tryin' to Paladino me into placin' my order for. I'd just washed up and was in the gym. giving my coat a few licks with the whisk broom, when Swifty Joe comes tiptoein' in, taps me on the shoulder, and points solemn into the front office. "That's right," says I, "break it to me gentle." "Get into it quick!" says he, grabbin' the coat. "Eh?" says I. "Fire, police, or what?"