“Suppose we’ll have a few blowouts now, just to make the thing real good,” grumbled Joe, and Jim laughed.
“Here we are before the Wheatstone now,” he said. “Just goes to show how sound your gloomy prophecies are!”
Joe’s heart leaped as he saw the great building which he was making his headquarters during the stay of the club in Chicago and where he had also engaged a room for Reggie. He started to leap from the cab, which had slowed at the curb, but a sharp twinge from his injured leg reminded him of his partly crippled condition.
“Take it easy, old man,” warned Jim. “If you don’t favor that foot, you may find yourself laid up for a month instead of a week.”
It was all very well for Jim to say “take it easy,” but when a young married man has been separated from his wife for weeks, the thing isn’t so easily done.
They rode in the elevator to the fifth floor where, leaning on his cane and refusing the help of Jim’s arm, Joe got out and hobbled down the corridor to the door of his apartment.
“Remember, I’m not really hurt, I just imagine I am,” he cautioned Jim once more, as he put his hand on the knob.
Instantly the door opened and a vision of bright hair and rosy face seized him by the hand and dragged him into the room.
“You too, Jim! Come in, do!” cried Mabel, breathlessly. “Reggie and I have been waiting ages for you. Joe—Joe, dear—that cane! You——”