"Well," says I, "there's his card."
"Eh?" says he, readin' the name. "Why—who——"
"Mallory," says I. "You know—hitched last week. He's got the old boy up there to dinner now. Maybe he'll be taken on as the Senator's secretary if you don't jump in quick. He's a hustler, Mallory is. Remember how he skinned that big order out of Kazedky? And as an A. G. M. he'd be a winner. Well, does he get it?"
"Young man," says Old Hickory, catchin' his breath, "if my mental machinery worked at the high pressure speed yours does, I could——But I am not noted for being slow. I've done things in a hurry before. I can yet. Torchy, he does get it."
"When?" says I.
"To-morrow morning," says he. "I'll start him at five thousand."
"Whoop!" says I. "Say, you're a sport! I'll go up and deliver the glad news. Guess he needs it now as much as he ever will."
And, say, you should have seen the change of heart that comes over the Senator when he heard the bulletin. "Mallory, my boy," says he, "congratulations. And by the way, just remove that—er—imitation lamb stew. Then we'll all go down to some good hotel and have a real dinner."