Page:The Popular Magazine v72 n1 (1924-04-20).djvu/88

 gal that you just met yesterday for the first time”

“What girl?”

The light-heavyweight reached in a pocket, took out a carrot, gazed at it fondly and sighed.

“A sweet little skirt by the name of Biggs. But don't be asking no more personal questions. I'm going down the road a piece now to see her. Try to stop me and you'll find my contract upstairs under the mattress!”

Pitz was diplomatic if nothing else. Putting everything he had into a smile he patted the big boy on the shoulder.

“That's all right, kid. If there's anything I like to see it's a boy and a gal going down the fork of the road to spoon. But keep your hat on in the sun.”

“What do you think I am—refined like that Jepson joke—taking my lid off the minute a dame comes along?” was McFinn's retort. “So long—I'll be back for dinner.”

“You tell 'em, you will!” Tin Ear O'Brien murmured in a voice that sounded like bottles breaking.

Starting the next day, Tarkington van Riker became Scandrel's willing victim. Ottie put him over the jumps in the Steeplechase for Health and though the wizard of Wall Street grumbled frequently, he fell off the pad at six o'clock for the mile sprint that was his eye opener, did his gym work and all the rest of it as faithfully as could be expected with Scandrel never letting him out of his sight.

If the patient, perspiring Van Riker led a strenuous existence, the meek, mild and handsome Jepson enjoyed the popular life of Riley. The good-looking valet never arose before ten o'clock, took breakfast, wandered away and didn't show up again until dinner time. Like his master, Jepson said little and if the pointed remarks of Dangerous Dave McFinn and the gym rubbers were overheard by the beautiful youth they were disregarded entirely.

When it came to quiet, the faithful Jepson had a henpecked husband looking like a victrola playing jazz with the doors wide open.

“So good, so far,” Ottie said at breakfast a week later. “I had Channing Lamont on the long distance last night and I gave him the dirt. When I told him that Van hasn't been three feet away from me and the farm, Lamont was as tickled as if I had used a feather. Believe me, I'll get an attractive dime for this trouble.”

Before I could answer Tin Ear O'Brien shuffled in.

“Hey, listen, boss. Didn't you not tell me that if any frail come around here asking for Mr. van Riker I should give you a tip off?”

“I said those very words. What about it?”

“She's outside now!” the ex-welterweight hollered.

Scandrel pushed aside a couple of eggs that were so fresh they were impertinent and pulled on his coat.

“Come on, Joe. You beat it back to the gym,” he instructed O'Brien. “You might scare the chicken, Radio.”

“What's the idea of calling me Radio?”

“Because you're such a loud speaker!” Ottie yelped. “Take the air!”

When we reached the front porch it was to find a snappy little roadster drawn up at the front doorstep. In it was seated a girl with dark-brown hair, soulful eyes, but an expression that seemed to suggest the fact that while she was long on looks she was short on brains. She wore some wise scenery that had probably been snatched out of the latest fashion periodicals, a hat with a feather in it, and was listening intently to something Dangerous Dave McFinn, who stood with one foot on the running board, was saying.

One look was enough to ignite Ottie.

“You've got a nerve!” he bawled at Pitz's marvel. “Who told you to dock here and get friendly? And ain't you got manners enough to remove your hat when you're talking to a lady? Take it off! Put it on! Beat it before I break your back!”

McFinn mumbled something and slouched away. Ottie buttoned his coat and toyed with an introduction. The girl, a dangerous worker with the eyes, gave him a lovely smile.

“I'm Alice Lamont. I wonder if I can see Tarkie van Riker for a minute or two. I've got something I want to ask him.”

Ottie sighed and shook his head.

“Not a chance in the world, Cutey. It's against the rules. I couldn't let you in if you were Cleopatra willing to give me a piece of the Nile for the favor. That's that!”

Miss Lamont pouted demurely.

“I didn't think such a nice-looking man