“I should think you would find it easier hearing this from me than you would from her. She has found it easier to say.” “But, Mrs. Ellicott--” “There are things that take a little too much explaining to explain, Mr. Crowe.” The meaning seemed vague but the tone was doomlike enough. “And in any case” the voice ended with a note of flat triumph, “Nancy will not be home until dinnertime so you could not possibly telephone her before the departure of your train.” “Oh.” “Good-by, Mr. Crowe,” and a click at the other end showed that Mrs. Ellicott had hung up the receiver, leaving him to shriek “But listen--” pitiably into the little black mouthpiece in front of him until Central cut in on him angrily with “Say, whatcha tryin' to do, fella? Break my ear?” XXIII After cindery hours in a day coach--the fine and the loss of his Pullman reservation have left him with less than three dollars in cash--Oliver crawls into Vanamee and Company's about four in the afternoon. Everybody but Mrs. Wimple and Mr. Tickler is out of Copy for the moment and the former greets him with coy wit. “Been taking your vacation at Newport, Crowie? Or didja sneak the Frisco account away from Brugger's Service when you were out West?” “Oh, no, got jugged--that was all,” says Oliver quite truthfully if tiredly and Mrs. Wimple crows at the jest with high laughter. Oliver marvels at the fact that everybody should seem to think it so humorous to be jailed. “Why, Crowie, you naughty little boy! Oh mischief, mischief!” and she scrapes one index finger over the other at him in a try for errant childishness. Then she and her perfume come closer and this time she looks around before she speaks and there is some little real concern in her voice. “Listen, Crowie--you better watch your step, boy--I'm telling you straight. Old Man Alley was real sore when you didn't blow in yesterday--it was one of Vanamee's bad days when his eye gets twitchy and he was rearing around cursing everybody out and giving an oration on office discipline that'd a made a goat go laugh itself ill. And then Alley got hold of Délier and they are both talking about you--I know because Délier said 'Oh give him another chance' and Alley said 'What's the use, Deller--he's been here eight months and he doesn't seem to really get the hang of things,' in that snippy little way and then 'I can't stand breaches of discipline like this.' You know how nervous it gets him if as much as a fastener is out of place on his desk--and Winslow's got a kid cousin he wants to put in here and if you don't act like mama's darling for a while--” She is ready to go on indefinitely, but Oliver thanks her abstractedly--it is decent of the old girl after all--grunts “Guess I better start in looking busy now, Mrs. Wimple!” and sits down at his desk.