“Gee, boss!”
“Would you?”
“Surest t’ing you know, boss.”
“Or, rather,” proceeded Jimmy, “would you care to crack a crib while I come along with you? Strictly speaking, I am here on vacation, but a trifle like this isn’t real work. It’s this way,” he explained. “I’ve taken a fancy to you, Spike, and I don’t like to see you wasting your time on coarse work. You have the root of the matter in you, and with a little coaching I could put a polish on you. I wouldn’t do this for every one, but I hate to see a man bungling who might do better! I want to see you at work. Come right along and we’ll go up-town and you shall start in. Don’t get nervous. Just work as you would if I were not there. I shall not expect too much. Rome was not built in a day. When we are through I will criticise a few of your mistakes. How does that suit you?”
“Gee, boss! Great! And say, I knows just de places. A friend of mine puts me wise to it. Leastways, I didn’t know he was me friend, but I falls for him now. It’s a——”
“Very well, then. One moment, though.”
He went to the telephone. Before he had left New York on his travels, Arthur Mifflin had been living at an hotel near Washington Square. It was probable that he was still there. He called up the number. The night-clerk was an old acquaintance of his.
“Hullo, Dixon!” said Jimmy, “is that you? I’m Pitt. Pitt. Yes. I’m back. How did you guess? Yes, very pleasant, thanks. Has Mr. Mifflin come in yet? Gone to bed? Never mind, ring him up, will you? Thanks.” Presently the sleepy and outraged voice of Mr. Mifflin spoke at the other end of the line.
“What’s wrong? Who the devil’s that?”
“My dear Arthur! Where you pick up such expressions I can’t think. Not from me.”