"I don't have to think, Mistuh Robin," says Uncle Noah. "Miss Peggy told me that herself the mornin' I come away." Young Mr. Hollister gazes earnest into them gentle old blue eyes for a second, then he takes a turn or two up and down the lib'ry, and fin'lly claps Uncle Noah on the shoulder. "I've been waiting all summer for a taste of those grapes," says he. "Come, we can just catch the midnight. I've had enough of Broadway to last me for a long time." And my partin' glimpse of 'em was at eleven-fifty-six, when they pushed through the gate bound for Goober, Georgia. "After all," thinks I, "it may not be so bad as it sounds." CHAPTER V THE CASE OF A FEMALE PARTY You know how free this J. Bayard Steele has been in callin' on me for help in puttin' over his little deeds of kindness, at so much per deed? Well, here the other day he shows up at the studio with sealed envelope No. 3 in his pocket, and after springin' his usual guff about the door of fate he opens it. "Well, who's the party of the second part this time?" says I. But he just gazes at the slip of paper he's taken out and smiles mushy. "All right," says I. "Keep it to yourself. This is my busy day, anyway." "Pardon me, McCabe," says he. "I was lost in wonder at the varied character of the persons whom the late Pyramid Gordon numbered on his conscience list. This time it is a lady." "Huh!" says I. "Didn't know Pyramid ever had any skirt complications." "From Adam down has any man escaped?" says J. Bayard, wavin' his cigarette jaunty. "No, your friend Gordon was no wiser than the rest of us, as this shows. Hearken to the name--Josie Vernon!" "That does listen flossy," says I. "But I never heard him mention any Josie as long as I knew him. Any details?" "There's an address," says J. Bayard, "and in one corner is written, 'Mrs. Fletcher Shaw.' Probably a friend, or next of kin. Ah, but this is something like! Knight-errantry for the fair sex! Here, McCabe, is where I shine!" "You do, eh?" says I. "Think you can handle this case all by your lonesome?" Did he? Why, to see him turkeyin' round, glancin' at himself approvin' in the mirror, and pattin' them Grand Duke whiskers of his into shape, you'd think he had some matinee idol as an understudy. Oh, yes, he rather fancied he understood women, knew how to handle 'em, and all that. He would look up Josie Vernon at once, find out what had been the trouble between her and Pyramid, and decide on some kind and generous way of evenin' the score, accordin' to the terms of Mr. Gordon's will. "And in this instance, Shorty," says he, "I shall probably not be compelled to trouble you at all until I submit my plans for your indorsement. Now I'm off. The ladies, bless 'em!" and he winks giddy as he trips through the door. Ain't they the nutty ones, these old cut-ups? Look at Steele now,--in the late fifties, but just at the mention of a name like Josie Vernon he gets kittenish!