But when an impertinent “newsie,” grinning from ear to ear, held out a disreputable and tattered cap for his inspection, inviting him gleefully to “help yourself—it ain’t much, but it’s the best I got, Mister,” Joe lost what little aplomb he had left.
A passing taxicab caught his eye and he made a running jump for it, saw that it was empty, opened the door and got in before the surprised and outraged driver could do more than open his mouth and shut it again.
A minute later the car slowed down and the chauffeur glared in at the occupant of his cab.
“Say, what d’you think you’re doin’?” he growled, but he got no further. All the pent-up irritation and wrath that had been simmering in Joe for the past hour was poured forth on that unfortunate chauffeur’s head.
This had the effect of ending the discussion right there as far as the chauffeur was concerned. Having firmly come to the conclusion in his own mind that a lunatic had taken possession of his cab he decided to take his passenger to his destination and there to drop him at the first possible minute.
So it happened that a short time later, having paid the taxicab driver, Joe entered the rear of his hotel and made a break for the stairs.
He was not going to trust himself even to the mercies of the elevator boy, who knew and revered him as an idol. As a matter of fact, Joe was not particularly eager to meet anybody until he had had a chance to look at himself in the mirror and discover to what extent—if any—his features had been damaged. Also, he wanted a hat! Oh, he very badly wanted a hat!
In the corridor Baseball Joe met Jim, evidently sallying forth to practice, and the latter stood and stared—at least, that is what he would have done had the exasperated Joe given him a chance.
In another moment they were both within Joe’s room with the door closed against unwelcome intrusion.
“Now out with it!” Joe said. “Do your worst. Am I a total wreck?”