"That's my own invention," said the landlord, "and it's a very popular feature of my house. It brings children here. When the mothers of this neighborhood want to go off wheeling, and there's nobody to look after the children, they bring them here and leave them with me, and they're as good as pie as long as that ceiling goes. That's another of my ways of making money. I charge fifty cents an hour for letting the youngsters in here, and it's a very poor sort of a day that I don't clear $40 on my kid account."
"I should think so," said Jimmieboy in a superior sort of way. "I think that if I were a child I should like to spend a day here myself."
The landlord looked at Jimmieboy with an amused expression.
"Say, Mr. Bike," he whispered to Bikey. "What does he think he is, a telegraph pole? He said if he was a child. Isn't he a child?"
"Yes," laughed Bikey, "but he is a little old for his age, you know. Had lots of experience."
"Ha—I see," said the landlord. Then he turned to Jimmieboy again and said:—
"Now, Mr. Man, if you'll accompany me up stairs I'll show you my pantry."
"Good," said Jimmieboy. "I must say I'm pretty hungry, and a pantry is just the sort of thing I'd like to see."
Mounting the "bikevator," as the printed sign over it called the arrangement that took guests to the upper floors, the party was soon transferred to the landing above. The landlord, after assisting Jimmieboy to dismount, walked to the end of a long corridor and, taking a bunch of keys from his pocket, unlocked and opened a little door.
"Come in," he said, as he disappeared through the door. "I have to keep the pantry locked."