For Wedgewood, it was suddenly as if all the air had been removed from the world. He gulped like a fish drowning for lack of water. He was a long while getting breath enough for words, but his first words were wild demands that Mr. Wellington remove himself forthwith.
Wellington accepted the banishment with the sorrowful eyes of a dying deer, and tottered away wagging his fat head and wailing:
"I'm a broken-hearted man, and nobody gives a ——." At this point he caromed over into Ira Lathrop's berth and was welcomed with a savage roar:
"What the devil's the matter with you?"
"I'm a broken-hearted man, that's all."
"Oh, is that all," Lathrop snapped, vanishing behind his newspaper. The desperately melancholy seeker for a word of human kindness bleared at the blurred newspaper wall a while, then waded into a new attempt at acquaintance. Laying his hand on Lathrop's knee, he stammered: "Esscuzhe me, Mr.—Mr.——"
From behind the newspaper came a stingy answer: "Lathrop's my name—if you want to know."
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Lothrop."
"Lathrop!"
"Lathrop! My name's Wellington. Li'l Jimmie Wellington. Ever hear of me?"