And where do you expect I brings up? At the Ellins' mansion, down on the avenue. First time I'd ever been there out of office hours; but the maid says Mr. Ellins is takin' his coffee in the lib'ry and she'd see if he'd let me in. Ah, sure he did, and we gets right down to cases. "Remember how that assistant general manager stiff of yours fell down on that public lands deal when you sent him to Washington last month?" says I. Old Hickory chokes some on a swallow of black coffee he's just hoisted in; but he recovers enough to nod. "Does he get the run?" says I. "I neglected consulting you about it, Torchy," says he; "but his resignation has been called for." "Filled the job yet?" says I. "Fortunately, no," says he, and I knew by the way he squints that he thought he was bein' mighty humorous. "Possibly you could recommend his successor?" "Yep, I could," says I. "Would it help any to have some one who was son in law to a Senator?" "That," says Old Hickory, "would depend somewhat on which Senator was his father in law." "Well," says I, "there's his card." "Eh?" says he, readin' the name. "Why--who----" "Mallory," says I. "You know--hitched last week. He's got the old boy up there to dinner now. Maybe he'll be taken on as the Senator's secretary if you don't jump in quick. He's a hustler, Mallory is. Remember how he skinned that big order out of Kazedky? And as an A. G. M. he'd be a winner. Well, does he get it?" "Young man," says Old Hickory, catchin' his breath, "if my mental machinery worked at the high pressure speed yours does, I could----But I am not noted for being slow. I've done things in a hurry before. I can yet. Torchy, he does get it." "When?" says I. "To-morrow morning," says he. "I'll start him at five thousand." "Whoop!" says I. "Say, you're a sport! I'll go up and deliver the glad news. Guess he needs it now as much as he ever will." And, say, you should have seen the change of heart that comes over the Senator when he heard the bulletin. "Mallory, my boy," says he, "congratulations. And by the way, just remove that--er--imitation lamb stew. Then we'll all go down to some good hotel and have a real dinner." CHAPTER XVII TOUCHING ON TINK TUTTLE "On your way, now, on your way!" says I; gazin' haughty over the brass gate. "No window cleanin' done here durin' office hours!" "But," says the specimen on the other side, "I--I didn't come to clean the windows." "Eh?" says I, sizin' up the blue flannel shirt, the old leather belt, and other marks of them pail and sponge artists. "Well, we don't want any sash cords put in, or wirin' fixed, or any kind of jobbin' done until after five. That's General Order No. 1. See?" He nods in kind of a lifeless, unexcited way; but he don't make any motions towards beatin' it. "I--I--the fact is," he begins, "I wish to see some one connected with the Corrugated Trust Company."