"Say, Mr. Piddie," says I, "any prospects of an outside run for me to-day?" "Not in the least," says he. "I suppose, though, you would like a chance to waste some of the company's time on the street?" "Me?" says I. "Why, I'd hate it. I was only afraid I'd have to go, with all this inside work to be done." "Humph!" says he. "You needn't fear. I shall see that nothing of the sort happens." "Ah, you're a bird, you are!" says I. "Perhaps," says Piddie. "Then climb a tree and twitter," says I; for it made me grouchy to think I'd let a bonehead like him get a rise out of me. The more I chewed it over, though, the stronger I was for breakin' loose about dockin' time. Maybe I didn't want to go to the pier; but if he was bent on throwin' the gate on me, that was another proposition. I got sorer and sorer and I was on the point of chuckin' the job at Piddie's head and walkin' out on my own hook, when who should come stormin' in, scowlin' and grumblin' to himself, but Mr. Robert. And he had a worse attack than I did. "Torchy," says he, wheelin' around halfway to his office, "ring up Pier Umpty-nine and find out when that blasted steamer is due." "The Kaiser boat?" says I. "She'll dock about two-forty-five." "Eh?" says he, some startled. "Now, how the----Never mind, though. Sure about the time, are you?" "Yep," says I. "Dash it all!" says he. "That's Marjorie, though! Any word from the Consolidated Bridge people yet?" "Not yet," says I, and slam goes his door. Took me three minutes by the clock to dope out the combination too, which shows how gummed up my gears was. But when I'd fitted them two remarks together, about Marjorie and the bridge people, and had remembered the cablegram from Sister Marjorie sayin' how their party'd been broken up on account of sickness and she was comin' home alone--why, it was all like readin' it off a bulletin. Marjorie's arrivin' durin' business hours was likely to mess up the schedule. Course, if the bridge concern didn't send word---- I'd got to that point, when in drifts my old A. D. T. runnin' mate, Hunch Leary, draggin' his feet behind him and chewin' gum industrious. Now Hunch don't look like a tempter. He's plain homely, that's all. But comin' just as he did, with Piddie over there glarin' at me suspicious--well, I just had to do it. "Sure I got blanks on me?" says Hunch. "Wot then?" Right under Piddie's nose he fixes it up too, and waits while I takes the phony message in to Mr. Robert. It wa'n't such a raw one, either; not as if it had sent him off to wait at some hotel. "Will try to get around about two-thirty Trimble," was all it said. And how did we know Trimble wouldn't try, anyway? "That settles it," says Mr. Robert, crumplin' the yellow sheet. "Torchy, you must do the family honors." "Do which?" says I, with business of great surprise.