it’s all right for you, because if you go to sleep on your job, there’s no danger of you doing any damage except maybe give one of your patients a bichloride of mercury tablet instead of an alcohol rub.’ He’s terrible! But you can’t help from laughing.
“There was four of us in the party last night. He brought along his B.F. and another girl. She was just blah, but the B.F. wasn’t so bad, only he insisted on me helping him drink a half a bottle of Scotch, and on top of gin, too. I guess I was the life of the party; that is, at first. Afterwards I got sick and it wasn’t so good.
“But at first I was certainly going strong. And I guess I made quite a hit with Roy’s B.F. He knows Marian, too, but he won’t say anything, and if he does, I don’t care. If she don’t want to lose her beaus, she ought to know better than to introduce them to all the pretty girls in the world. I don’t mean that I’m any Norma Talmadge, but at least—well—but I sure was sick when I was sick!
“I must give Marian a ring this noon. I haven’t talked to her since the night she introduced me to him. I’ve been kind of scared. But I’ve got to find out what she knows. Or if she’s sore at me. Though I don’t see how she can be, do you? But maybe you want to read.”
“I called Marian up, but I didn’t get her. She’s out of town but she’ll be back tonight. She’s been out on a case. Hudson, New York, that’s where she went. The message was waiting for her when she got home the other night, the night she introduced me to Roy.”
“Good morning,” said Miss Lyons.
“Good morning,” said the man in bed. “Did you sleep enough?”
“Yes,” said Miss Lyons. “I mean no, not enough.”
“Your eyes look bad. They almost look as if you’d been crying.”
“Who? Me? It’d take more than—I mean, I’m not a baby! But go on and read your book.”
“Well, good morning,” said Miss Lyons. “And how’s my patient? And this is the last morning I can call you that, isn’t it? I think you’re mean to get well so quick and leave me out of a job. I’m just kidding. I’m glad you’re all right again, and I can use a little rest myself.”
“Another big night?” asked the man in bed.
“Pretty big,” said Miss Lyons. “And another one coming. But tomorrow I won’t ever get up. Honest, I danced so much last night that I thought my feet would drop off. But he certainly is a dancing fool! And the nicest somebody to talk to that I’ve met since I came to this town. Not a smart Alex and not always trying to be funny like some people, but just nice. He understands. He seems to know just what you’re thinking. George Morse.”
“George Morse!” exclaimed the man in bed.
“Why yes,” said Miss Lyons. “Do you know him?”
“No. But I thought you were talking about this Stewart, this Roy.”
“Oh, him!” said Miss Lyons. “I should say not! He’s private property; other people’s property, not mine. He’s engaged to my G.F. Marian. It happened day before yesterday, after she got home from Hudson. She was on a case up there. She told me about it night before last. I told her congratulations. Because I wouldn’t hurt her feelings for the world! But heavens! what a mess she’s going to be in, married to that dumbbell. But of course some people can’t be choosey. And I doubt if they ever get married unless some friend loans him the price of a license.
“He’s got her believing he’s in Wall Street, but I bet if he ever goes there at all, it’s to sweep it. He’s one of these kind of fellas that’s got a great line for a little while, but you don’t want to live with a clown. And I’d hate to marry a man that all he thinks about is to step out every night and dance and drink.
“I had a notion to tell her what I really thought. But that’d only of made her sore, or she’d of thought I was jealous or something. As if I couldn’t of had him myself! Though even if he wasn’t so awful, if I’d liked him instead of loathed him, I wouldn’t of taken him from her on account of she being my G.F. And especially while she was out of town.
“He’s the kind of a fella that’d marry a nurse in the hopes that some day he’d be an invalid. You know, that kind.
“But say—did you ever hear of J. P. Morgan and Company? That’s where my B.F. works, and he don’t claim to own it neither. George Morse.
“Haven’t you finished that book yet?”
Women
Young Jake uttered a few words which it would pain me to repeat.
“And what are you crabbin’ about?” asked Mike Healy from his corner of the bench.
“Oh, nothin’!” said Jake. “Nothin’ except that I’m sick of it!”
“Sick of what?” demanded Healy.
“Of settin’ here!” Jake replied.
“You!” said Mike Healy, with a short laugh. “You’ve got a fine license to squawk! Why, let’s see: what is it? The third of June, and your first June in the league. You ain’t even begin to sit! Look at me! Been on this bench since catchers started wearin’ a mast, or anyway it seems that long. And you never hear me crab, do you, Lefty?”
“Only when you talk,” answered the athlete addressed. “And that’s only at table or between meals.”
“But if this kid’s hollerin’ already,” said Mike, “what’ll he be doin’ along in August or September, to say nothin’ about next August and the August after that?”
“Don’t worry!” said Young Jake. “I’ll either be a regular by the end of this season or I won’t be on this ball club
