Page:Chetyates00yateiala.pdf/277

 "The man stopped figuring and looked squarely at me. 'Then the directory is wrong,' he said,—and went on checking checks.

"My enthusiasm was up, and I didn't feel a bit cross or worried, although it was almost ten o'clock, and I didn't know where I belonged,—or rather, how to get there. 'See here,' I said, 'I want to go out to that place to-night. Can't you send a cabman out with me, to find it?'

"He shoved his papers aside and yanked down the city directory. 'What's the name?' he asked, slamming over the chunks of leaves.

R. M. Kirby.'

"He ran his finger down the column, with an expression that said:—'Well, I suppose I've got to show you your mistake, if you're too stupid to see it yourself.' Then his finger stopped. 'H-m,' he said. He took out his vest-pocket book and studied it again. 'They got a telephone?' he asked.

No.'

"He slammed the directory shut and came out of the door. I followed him over to a row of cabs. He called to a driver, and said, jerking his head at me,—'She wants to go to 1944 Iuka Avenue.'