"My O. K.?" he snarls. "Bah! Now what the zebra-striped Zacharias do they send those things to me for? What good am I, anyway, except as a common carrier for all the blinkety blinked aches and pains that ever existed? A shivery, shaky old lump of clay streaked with cussedness, that's all I am!" "Yes, Sir," says I, from force of habit. "Eh?" says he, whirlin' and snappin' his jaws. "N-n-no, Sir," says I, sidesteppin' behind a chair. "That's right," says he. "Dodge and squirm as if I was a wild animal. That's what they all do. What are you afraid of, Boy?" "Me?" says I. "Why, I'm havin' the time of my life. I don't mind. It only sounds natural and homelike. And it's mostly bluff, ain't it, Mr. Ellins?" "Discovered!" says he. "Ah, the merciless perspicacity of youth! But don't tell the others. And put those papers on my desk." "Yes, Sir," says I, and after I've spread 'em out I backs into the bay window and sits down. "Well, what are you doing there?" says he. "Waiting orders," says I. "Any errands, Mr. Ellins?" "Errands?" says he. Then, after thinkin' a second, he raps out, "Yes. Do you see that collection of bottles and pills and glasses on the table? Enough to stock a young drugstore! And I've been pouring that truck into my system by wholesale,--the pink tablets on the half-hour, the white ones on the quarter, a spoonful of that purple liquid on the even hour, two of the greenish mixtures on the odd, and getting worse every day. Bah! I haven't the courage to do it myself, but by the blue-belted blazes if---- See here, Boy! You're waiting orders, you say?" "Uh-huh!" says I. "Then open that window and throw the whole lot into the areaway," says he. "Do you mean it, Mr. Ellins?" says I. "Do I--yah, don't I speak plain English?" he growls. "Can't you understand a simple----" "I got you," I breaks in. "Out it goes!" I don't drop any of it gentle, either. I slams bottles and glasses down on the flaggin' and chucks the pills into the next yard. I makes a clean sweep. "Thanks, Torchy," says he. "The doctor will be here soon. I'll tell him you did it." "Go as far as you like," says I. "Anything else, Sir?" "Yes," says he. "Provide me with a temporary occupation." "Come again," says I. "I want something to do," says he. "Here I've been shut up in this confounded house for four mortal days! I can't read, can't eat, can't sleep. I just prowl around like a bear with a sore ear. I want something that will make me forget what a wretched, futile old fool I am. Do you know of anything that will fill the bill?" "No, sir," says I. "Then think," says he. "Come, where is that quick-firing, automatic intellect of yours? Think, Boy! What would you do if you were shut up like this?" "Why," says I, "I--I might dig up some kind of games, I guess." "Games!" says he. "That's worth considering. Well, here's some money. Go get 'em." "But what kind, Sir?" says I.