“You talked,” said Tootles, descending, “but you kept a tight lip. You said nothing you didn’t want to, old cockywax.”
This seemed to reassure O’Leary. He rose, shaking himself together, and his glance fell on the three suspended socks bulging grotesquely.
“Did I do that?” he said, with a wan smile.
“Don’t you remember playing Santa Claus up and down the hall?”
“No; but I remember something about riding miles and miles in an elevator.”
Flick Wilder now began to return, talking violently and flopping about in the last stages of a nightmare.
“Whoa there! Catch him! Hold on to him! Don’t let go of him—head off that camel!”
“Wake up!” said Tootles, shaking him. “Where do you think you are?”
“Where’s Sassafras?” said Flick frantically, betwixt the dream and the reality. “Good Lord, I thought that elevator had broken loose—riding him down Broadway, when he turned into Elsie, the camel!”
He stared at King O’Leary a moment in confusion, and then a light dawned.