Another nod. Oh, yes, for an economical converser, he was about the most consistent breath saver I ever tackled. You could easy go hoarse havin' a little chat with him. You'd need lots of time too; for after every one of my bright little sallies Ira looks me over in that quiet, thoughtful way of his, then counts fifty to himself, and fin'lly decides whether it'll be a grunt or just a nod. Gettin' information out of him was like liftin' a trunk upstairs one step at a time. I manages to drag out, though, that he'd been hangin' around ever since the buildin' was opened by the day watchman at seven o'clock. "Well," says I, "Mr. Robert was lookin' for you to blow in today; but not quite so early. It'll be near ten before he shows up. Better come inside and have a comf'table chair." He takes that proposition up with himself, fin'lly passin' on it favorable; and from then on he sits there, with never a move or a blink, watchin' solemn all the maneuvers that a battery of lady typists has to go through before settlin' down for a forenoon's work. I'll bet he could tell you too, a month from now, just how many started with gum, and which ones renewed their facial scenery with dabs from the chamois. So you can see why I was some relieved when Mr. Robert arrives and takes him off my hands. I knew from what he'd said the day before that he'd planned to have about a half-hour interview with Mr. Higgins; but when the noon hour struck: Ira was still there. At one-fifteen they goes out to lunch together, and at two-thirty they comes back. It's after four when Mr. Robert fin'lly comes out to the gate with his brow wrinkled up. "Torchy," says he, "how is your bump of diplomacy today?" "It's a dimple, I expect," says I. "You're entirely too modest," says he. "Now, I remember several occasions when you have----" "Oh, I gen'rally have my nerve with me, if that's what you mean," says I. "But I don't mean that," says he. "Perhaps finesse is the better word." "It's all the same to me," says I. "If I've got it in stock, it's yours. What do I work it on?" "Mr. Higgins," says he. "Then score up a goose egg in advance," says I. "It would take a strong-arm hypnotizer to put the spell on Ira." Mr. Robert grins. "Then you have already tested Mr. Higgins' conversational powers?" says he. "Almost lost my voice gettin' him to say good mornin'," says I. "Say, you'd think he'd done all his talkin' by cable, at a dollar a word. Where'd he drift in from, anyway?" "Boothbay Harbor," says Mr. Robert. "Is that a foreign country," says I, "or a nickname for some flag station?" "It's quite a lively little seaport, I believe," says Mr. Robert, "up on the coast of Maine." "Oh, Maine!" says I. "Up there they're willin' to call a town anything that'll get a laugh. But what's the rest of the scandal?"