"Oh, certainly," says he. "Bring Mr. Rowley if you wish. And if there are any preparations you would like to make——"
"I got one or two," says I, startin' for the door; "so mark me off until about to-morrow noon."
Busy? Well, say, a kitten with four feet stuck in the flypaper didn't have anything on me. I streaks it for Sixth-ave. and lands in Rowley's loft all out of breath.
"What's up?" says he.
"The case of Briscoe et al. vs. Rowley," says I. "It's to be threshed out before the full Corrugated board to-morrow at two-thirty. I'm the counsel for the defense."
"Well, what of it?" says he.
"I want to use you as Exhibit A," says I, "in case of an emergency."
"All right," says he. "I'll go along if you say so."
"Good!" says I. And then came the hard part. "Rowley," I goes on, "what size collar do you wear?"
"But what has that to do with it?" says he.