Course, it don't last long, that wizzy feelin' and there ain't any hurt to speak of afterward; but I reckon Lady Evelyn don't know much about knock-outs. The way she hugs him up you'd thought he'd been half killed. We was all lookin' foolish and useless, I guess, when the lady turns to me and snaps out: "Brute! I hope you're satisfied!" Say, it wouldn't have been worse if I'd been caught robbin' a poor box. "Thank you, ma'am," says I, and fades into the background. "Go away, all of you!" says she. So Swifty and the other two comes taggin' along behind, and we had a little reunion in the dressin'-room. "On the dead, now," says Slattery, "what was the foul?" "Who's claimin' foul?" says Swifty, bristlin'. "Why the lady gives it to Shorty straight," says he. "Ah, go dream about it!" says Swifty. "She don't know a foul from a body wallop." "See here," says I, "you can talk all that over while you're hoofin' it back to the station; and you're due to be on your way in just four minutes by the clock; so chuck it!" "I ain't heard no step-lively call," says Slattery. "Besides, I likes the place." "Well, it don't like you," says I. "Mr. Jarvis and me have had enough of your rough-house society to last us a time and a half. Now bunky-doodle!" They was a sore-head trio for fair, after that; but when I'd paid 'em off, with a fiver extra for luck, they drops out of a window onto the lawn and pikes off like a squad of jail-breakers. I was some easier in my mind then; but I wa'n't joyful, at that. You see, Mr. Jarvis had treated me so white, and he was such a nice decent chap, that I was feelin' mighty cut up about givin' him the quick exit right before the girl he was gone on. Sure, he'd played for it; but I could see I shouldn't have done it. Knock-outs ain't in my line any more, anyway; but to spring one right before women folks, and in a swell joint like Blenmont--say, it made me feel like a last year's straw hat on the first day of June. "Shorty," says I, "you're a throw-back. You better quit travelin' with real gents, and commence eatin' with your knife again. Here's Mr. Jarvis gets you to help him out in a little society affair, and you overdoes it so bad he can't square himself in a hundred years. Back to the junction for yours." Well, I was that grouchy I wouldn't look at myself in the glass. But I rubs down and gets into my Rialto wardrobe that I'd brought along in a suit-case. Then I waits for Jarvis. Oh, I didn't want to see him, but it was up to me to say my little piece. It was near an hour before he shows up, wearin' his bathrobe, an' lookin' as gay as a flower-shop window. "On the level, now," says I, before he had a show to make any play at me, "if I'd known what a pinhead I was, I'd stayed in the cushion. How bad did I queer you?" "Shorty," says he, shovin' out his hand, "you're a brick." "An' cracked in the bakin', eh?" says I.