“O, hang your profession--a couple of minutes anyway,” interrupted the man at the fountain, “and come along. You’re not going to shake Kankakee till you’ve seen my Very Best--the finest Chicago brand, the highest flyer this side your celestial belt. What d’ye say, and what’ll you have?” and Bill Vanderhook looked anxiously into the other’s face while his hand sought the “sweet cream” spigot. “And if I consent,” finally murmured the Occultist, now toying mechanically with the long handled spoon, “If I consent,” he repeated in a weird monotone--his eyes following the process of a Lowball--“and look upon WOMAN--should I look upon her you would call your own, remember, Bill, that _you_ assume _my_ responsibility, and that upon _your_ head will rest the consequences of _my mad act_. Upon _you_ must descend the penalties of my violation of the First Degree.” “I’ll go you,” recklessly responded the young druggist, as he shoved the frothing fluid across the marble slab--“only let’s get a move.” Alonzo Leffingwell’s right hand closed vaguely but firmly upon the handle of the drinking-cup. With an air of utter indifference he poured the questionable compound into his system. Then his left hand sought his vest pocket--tentatively. The Vanderhook drug store once more stood the treat. Since infancy these two young men had been inseparable chums. The law of opposites had been satisfied. It had attracted and welded the affections of the stout, stocky, rosy and roystering Bill Vanderhook and the pale, pensive and passive Alonzo Leffingwell. Bill’s voice in babyhood was loud, resonant and cheerful, while Lonnie’s was low, limpid and languid. In youth Bill’s eyes, big, bold and black, had seemed continually searching for the hidden and forbidden things of fruit closet and melon patch. Contrawise, Lonnie’s orbs, mild, misty and luminous, seemed forever scanning the unsatisfying deeps of space. While nature seemed to have constructed Bill Vanderhook for a short-stop or a half-back, it had reserved Alonzo Leffingwell for the higher arts of mystical mysteries. On attaining his majority Bill consulted with his father and accepted a partnership in the paternal pharmacy. Alonzo consulted with himself, determined upon mysticism and cut loose from parental guidance. Upon this he resigned, as humorist of the _Daily Clarion_, and set out upon the path of wisdom. About the same time that Bill turned from bats to bottles and gave up the kicking of balls for the rolling of pills, Alonzo laid down his pen, took up his crystal and immured himself in his bedroom. Naturally, the exactions of these widely differing occupations tended more and more to separate the two young men. To Bill Vanderhook it meant an active daily life and a perpetual hustle in holding his father’s trade and reaching out for the increase. It meant for him a frequent dip in the social swim, and great popularity among those who attended “functions” and presided at Chafing Dishes.