But Skid didn't call that elopin'. Why, Sis had left word with the butler to tell her friends all about it, and the first thing they did after it was over was to send a forty-word collect telegram to papa. And Mallory, he'd just dropped around to arrange with Old Hickory for a little vacation before they beat it for Atlantic City.
"So that ain't elopin', eh?" says I. "I expect you'd call that a sixty-yard run on a forward pass, or something like that? Well, the old man's inside. Luck to you."
Mallory wa'n't on the carpet long, and when he comes out I asks how he made back.
"Oh, bully!" says he. "I'm to have ten days."
"With or without?" says I.
"Oh, I forgot to ask," says he.
Little things like bein' on the payroll or not wa'n't botherin' him then. He gives me a bone crushin' grip and swings out to the elevator in a rush; for he's been away from Sis nearly half an hour now.
Exceptin' a picture postcard or two, showin' the iron pier and a bathin' scene, I didn't hear from Mr. and Mrs. Mallory for more'n a week. And then one afternoon I gets a 'phone message from Skid, saying that they're all settled in a little flat up on Washington Heights and they'll be pleased to have me come up to dinner.
"It's our very first dinner, you know," says he, "and Sis is going to get it all by herself. I suggested that we try the first one on you."
"That don't scare me any," says I. "I've lived on sinkers and pie too long to duck amateur cookin'. I'll be there."