They separated at the door of the hotel, Frank to choose the materials he needed, and O’Connor to look up O’Halloran and get a permit to visit the prison from the proper authorities. When the latter returned triumphantly with his permit he found the boy busy with a needle and thread and surrounded by a litter of dress-making material.
“I’m altering this to fit me and fixing it up,” he explained.
“Holy smoke! Who taught you to sew?” asked Bucky, in surprise.
“My aunt, Mrs. Hardman. I used to do all the plain sewing on my costumes. Did you see your friend and get your permit?”
“You bet I did, and didn’t. Mickey was out, but I left him a note. The other thing I pulled off all right. I’m to be allowed to visit the prison and make a careful inspection of it at my leisure. There’s nothing like a pull, son.”
“Does the permit say you are to be allowed to steal any one of the prisoners you take a fancy to? asked Frank, with a smile.
“No, it forgot to say that. When do you expect to have that toggery made?”
“A good deal of it is already made, as you see. I’m just making a few changes. Do you want to try on your suit?”
“Is this mine?” asked the ranger, picking up with smiling contempt the rather gaudy blouse that lay on a chair.
“Yes, sir, that is yours. Go and put it on and we’ll see how it fits.”