Nothing But the Truth

“Where is he now?” asked Bob.

“Cell.”

“Well, you tell the station-man for me that he had better put him in a padded room. Ha! ha!” And Bob hung up the receiver.

But almost immediately the bell rang again.

“Hello!” said a voice. It was the telephone operator. “Is Mr. Bennett still there? Oh! Well, there’s a party on the long distance wants to speak to you.”

“Hello; that you, Bob?” came in far-away accents.

“It’s me. Who are you?”

“Dad.”

“Oh, hello, dad!” Bob tried to make his voice joyful.

“I called you up to tell you I caught a fifty-seven pounder. Thought you’d like to congratulate me.”

Bob did.

“They’ve made me a member of the Pius Piscatorials – swell club down here,” continued dad jubilantly, and again Bob did the congratulating act. “By the way, how’s hustling?” went on dad.

“I’m hustling all right.”

“That’s good. Well, good-by, son. I’ll be short of funds presently, but that doesn’t worry me. I’m having the time of my life. By-by, dear boy.”

“By-by, dad, dear.”

“Hold on, Mr. Bennett.” It was the telephone operator once more. “There’s another party that’s bound to speak to you, and take it from me I don’t like the sound of his voice. I hope he isn’t like that first party that was talking to you. What us poor girls has to put up with is something shameful, and – All right. Go ahead.”

“This is Dickie,” said a voice. “Say! you leave my girl alone. I’ve heard of your goings-on.”

“Who told you?” asked Bob. “That Peeping Tom? That maniac-medico?”

“I told you before I was going to marry her. You keep off the premises if you know what is good for you.” Dickie was so mad he was childish.

“No, you’re not going to marry her,” said Bob.

“You – you don’t mean to say you’re engaged to her?” came back in choked tones.

“No. She’s only my jolly little pal. But she thinks a lot of what I tell her and I’ll pick out a real man for her some day. You aren’t good enough. A chap that will punch another chap when he can’t defend himself isn’t the chap for jolly little pal.”

“I didn’t punch you when you couldn’t defend yourself,” said Dickie indignantly.

“I’m the one to know. You gave it to me all right, and thereby settled your chances with her. Do you think I’d let a girl like her marry a chap like you? Why, you might come home and beat your wife! You’re capable of it. I refuse my consent absolutely. I shall advise her to have nothing whatever to do with you.”

Dickie couldn’t speak and Bob left him in a state of coma. This time Bob was suffered to leave the telephone booth. He was awfully glad they had the maniac-medico locked up. Maybe he would get a cute little room with a cunning little window, and maybe there’d be a landscape? But there wouldn’t be any flowers.

Just at this moment the temperamental little thing hurried up to Bob in a state of great agitation. He saw that something serious had happened.

CHAPTER XX – HAND-READING

“Did you get rid of it?” he asked hurriedly.

“I did not,” she gasped. “That mean old monocle-man wouldn’t let me. He’s just kept his eye on me every moment. When I went up-stairs, he followed. There he is now. See how he’s watching us. Oh, what shall I do, if they find me with it?”

“Give it to me,” said Bob.

“No, I won’t.”

“But do you realize what it means if they find it on you?” he asked in alarm.

“We would go to jail together,” said jolly little pal.

“But I won’t have you go to jail. It’s preposterous.”

“Maybe I deserve it,” she remarked, “for having ‘peached.’ I hope,” wistfully, “our cells will be close together. Did you have a nice dance with Miss Gerald?”

“Give it to me,” commanded Bob sternly. “If you don’t, I’ll – I’ll take it from you.”

But she put her hand behind her. “Isn’t Gwendoline the most beautiful thing in the world?” she said. “We’ll talk about her in jail. It’ll help pass the time.”

“Give – ”

“I’m not the least bit jealous, because now I’m only your really-truly little pal,” she went on. “I wish I could be your best man. But I don’t suppose that’s feasible.”

“Give – ”

“I might swallow it,” she observed tentatively.

“Great heavens!” he reached for her hand.

“Aw! – fortune-telling?” said a voice.

“Yes; he was just going to read my palm,” answered jolly little pal promptly while Bob turned rather nervously to regard the monocle-man.

“Perhaps – aw! – I could read it,” suggested the monocle-man, looking at the closed fingers. “I have some – aw! – skill that way. Perhaps, Miss Dolly – aw! – you would permit me to look at your heart line?”

“I just won’t,” said Miss Dolly, with flashing eyes.

Bob watched her closely. If she tried to swallow it, he would stop her.

“How – aw! – very unkind!” said the monocle-man. “If you would – aw! – permit me, I could tell you – ? aw! – just what kind of a man you’re going to marry.”

“I’m not going to marry any one,” replied the jolly little pal.

“Please now, do – aw!” he urged.