Peter leaned over his shoulder and sang the choppy refrain with him. In the interest of accuracy the two sang it again, The third rendition brought them to the borders of harmony. The Worm looked up again and studied Peter's back, rather absently as if puzzling him out and classifying him. He knit his brows. Then his eyes lighted, and he turned back in his book, fingering the pages with a mild eagerness. Finding what he sought, he read thoughtfully and smiled. He closed his book; hitched forward to the old flat-top desk that stood between the windows; lighted a caked brier pipe; and after considerable scribbling on scraps of paper appeared to hit upon an arrangement of phrases that pleased him. These phrases he printed out painstakingly on the back of a calling card which he tacked up (with a hair-brush) on the outer side of the apartment door. Then he went into the bedroom to dress. “Who is she?” asked Hy in a low voice. The two were fond of the Worm, but they never talked with him about their girls. “That's the interesting thing,” said Peter. “I don't know. She's plumb mysterious. All she'd tell was that she is playing a boy at that little Crossroads Theater of Zanin's, and that I'd have to go there to find her out. Going to-night. Want to come along?” “What kind of a looking girl?” “Oh--pretty. Extraordinary eyes, green with brown in 'em--but green. And built like a boy. Very graceful.” “Hm!” mused Hy. “Do you know her?” “Sounds like Sue Wilde.” “Not--” “Yes, the Walrus's child.” “What's _she_ doing, playing around the Village?” “Oh, that's an old story. She left home--walked right out. Calls herself modern. She's the original lady highbrow, if you ask me. Sure I'll go to see her. Even if she never could see me.” Later, Hy remarked: “The old boy asked me yesterday if I had her address. You see he knows we live down here where the Village crowds circulate.” “Give it to him?” “No. Easy enough to get, of course, but I ducked... I'm going to hop into the bathtub. There's time enough. Then we can eat at the Parisian.” Peter settled down to read the sporting page of the evening paper. Shortly the Worm, clad now, drifted back to the Morris chair. They heard Hy shuffle out in his bath slippers and close the outer door after him. Then he opened the door and came back, He stood in the doorway, holding his bathrobe together with one hand and swinging his towel with the ether; and chuckling. “You worm!” he observed. “Why Bolbo _cee_ras?” The Worm looked up with mild eyes. “Not bolboceeras,” he corrected. “Bolbo_es_eras. As in cow.” “But why?” The Worm merely shrugged his shoulders and resumed his book. Peter paid little heed to this brief conversation. And when he and Hy went out, half an hour later, he gave only a passing glance to the card on the door. He was occupied with thoughts of a slim girl with green eyes who had fascinated and angered him in a most confusing way. The card read as follows: DO NOT FEED OR ANNOY!