The kids said--"Well, so long, old man." They went to a table and sat down. They ordered a salad. They were always ordering salads. This was because one kid had a wild passion for salads, and the other didn't care. So at any hour of the day they might be seen ordering a salad. When this one came they went into a sort of executive session. It was a very long consultation. Men noted it. Occasionally the kids laughed in supreme enjoyment of something unknown. The low rumble of wheels came from the street. Often could be heard the parrot-like cries of distant vendors. The sunlight streamed through the green curtains, and made little amber-coloured flitterings on the marble floor. High up among the severe decorations of the ceiling--reminiscent of the days when the great building was a palace--a small white butterfly was wending through the cool air spaces. The long billiard hall led back to a vague gloom. The balls were always clicking, and one could see countless crooked elbows. Beggars slunk through the wicker doors, and were ejected by the nearest waiter. At last the kids called Pop to them. "Sit down, Pop. Have a drink." They scanned him carefully. "Say now, Pop, on your solemn oath, can you run?" "Boys," said Pop piously, and raising his hand, "I can run like a rabbit." "On your oath?" "On my oath." "Can you beat Freddie?" Pop appeared to look at the matter from all sides. "Well, boys, I'll tell you. No man is ever cock-sure of anything in this world, and I don't want to say that I can best any man, but I've seen Freddie run, and I'm ready to swear I can beat him. In a hundred yards I'd just about skin 'im neat--you understand, just about neat. Freddie is a good average runner, but I--you understand--I'm just--a little--bit--better." The kids had been listening with the utmost attention. Pop spoke the latter part slowly and meanfully. They thought he intended them to see his great confidence. One said--"Pop, if you throw us in this thing, we'll come here and drink for two weeks without paying. We'll back you and work a josh on Freddie! But O!--if you throw us!" To this menace Pop cried--"Boys, I'll make the run of my life! On my oath!" The salad having vanished, the kids arose. "All right, now," they warned him. "If you play us for duffers, we'll get square. Don't you forget it." "Boys, I'll give you a race for your money. Book on that. I may lose--understand, I may lose--no man can help meeting a better man. But I think I can skin him, and I'll give you a run for your money, you bet." "All right, then. But, look here," they told him, "you keep your face closed. Nobody gets in on this but us. Understand?" "Not a soul," Pop declared. They left him, gesturing a last warning from the wicker doors.