Again she insisted on paying the bill. I said good night in front of the restaurant. She shook hands with me heartily, boyishly; her hand was hard, firm, and her grip something to inspire confidence. “Saturday,” she said, darting away.
I went home with my chest out, my shoulders up in the air, and my head high. I thought of all my heroes. No, I wouldn’t trade places with any of them. Here was real work to do. I must find a hack driver, “a big, tough one.”
Cocky McAllister was tough enough. A lean, hungry pirate with a balky eye, who cruised about my neighborhood with his spavined horses and rickety hack.
I told him what I wanted.
“Never let it be said that I refused to help any young feller get himself a girl and get up in the world,” he declared. “Say when. I’ll be on the spot an’ it won’t cost you a dime, either.”
Julia was waiting Saturday when I got to Madam Kate’s.
“Did you get a driver, kid?”
“Yes.”
“Be in the alley to-morrow night at eight.”
I promised to be there. That night I found Cocky and readied him up for Sunday evening. He showed up on the minute, and we were in the alley by Madam Kate’s early. Julia was waiting at the window and out came the bundle. I threw it into the hack. A minute later Cocky snatched her off the fence, leaving part of her wrapper behind. More of it was streaming out of the hack door as I slammed it and we drove away.