"Well," thinks I, "I'm glad my joy don't have any such effect on me as that. I s'pose I can stand it, if he can." It wa'n't more'n two nights later that I gets another shock. I was feelin' a little nervous, to begin with, for I'd billed myself to do a stunt I don't often tackle. It was nothin' else than pilotin' a fluff delegation to some art studio doin's. Sounds like a Percy job, don't it? But it was somethin' put up to me in a way I couldn't dodge. Maybe you remember me tellin' you awhile back about Cornelia Ann Belter? She was the Minnekeegan girl that had a room on the top floor over the Physical Culture Studio, and was makin' a stab at the sculpture game--the one that we got out to Rockywold as a ringer in the snow carvin' contest. Got her placed now? Well, you know how that little trick of makin' a snow angel brought her in orders from Mrs. Purdy Pell, and Sadie, and the rest? And she didn't do a thing but make good, either. I hadn't seen her since she quit the building; but I'd heard how she was doin' fine, and here the other day I gets a card sayin' she'd be pleased to have my company on a Wednesday night at half after eight, givin' an address on Fifth avenue. "Corny must be carvin' the cantaloup," thinks I, and then forgets all about it until Sadie holds me up and wants to know if I'm goin'. "Nix," says I. "Them art studio stunts is over my head." "Oh, pshaw!" says Sadie. "How long since you have been afraid of Miss Belter? Didn't you and I help her to get her start? She'll feel real badly if you don't come." "She'll get over that," says I. "But Mrs. Pell and I will have to go alone if you don't come with us," says she. "Mr. Pell is out of town, and Pinckney is too busy with those twins and that Western girl of his. You've got to come, Shorty." "That settles it," says I. "Why didn't you say so first off?" So that was what I was doin' at quarter of eight that night, in my open face vest and dinky little tuxedo, hustlin' along 42d-st., wonderin' if the folks took me for a head waiter late to his job. You see, after I gets all ragged out I finds I've left my patent leathers at the Studio. Swifty has said he was goin' to take the night off too, so I'm some surprised to see the front office all lit up like there was a ball goin' on up there. I takes the steps three at a time, expectin' to find a couple of yeggs movin' out the safe; but when I throws the door open what should I see, planted in front of the mirror, but Swifty Joe.