If you could have heard him tell how good he'd be you'd think practicin' a little crooked work now and then was the only sure way to learn how to keep straight.
"Piddie," says I, "I don't want to hurt your feelin's, but you act to me like a weak sister. If I was to do what the case calls for, this thing ought to go to the boss."
"Please don't, Torchy! Please don't!" says he, scrabblin' down on his hands and knees.
"Nix on that!" says I. "This is no carpet-layin' bee. I'm no squealer, anyway; besides, I had a little interview with Mrs. Piddie and the kid this noon, and after seein' them I can't rub it in like you deserve. What I've seen and heard I'm goin' to forget. Now sit up straight while I break the news to you gentle. I went down there to-day, just as you told me."
"Yes, I know," he groans, squirmin'.
"But I didn't like the looks of the joint; so I didn't dump the bonds. There they are. Now see they get back where you found 'em!"
Talk about your hallelujah praise meetin's! Piddie was havin' one, all by himself—when the inside door opens and Mr. Roberts steps out of his office.
"I'll take care of those bonds, Mr. Piddie," says he.
Chee! what a stunner! Mr. Robert had been in there all the time, writin' private letters, and had took in the whole business.
Did he give Piddie the fire on the spot? Nah! Mr. Robert carries around a frigid portico; but he's got a warm spot inside. He says he's mighty sorry to hear how near Piddie'd come to goin' wrong; but he's glad it turned out the way it did, and if Piddie'll say how much they rung him in for on Blitzen he'll be happy to make good right there.