The Life of the Party Part 2

"Did, huh?"

"Yes, that's the present condition of things. Very annoying, isn't it?

But I'll take your address. I'm a lawyer in business in Broad Street, and as soon as I reach my office I'll send the amount by messenger."

"Aw, to h.e.l.l with you and your troubles! I might a-knowed you was some new kind of a panhandler when you come a-snortin' in my ear that-a-way.

Better beat it while the goin's good. You're in the wrong neighbourhood to be springin' such a gag as this one you just now sprang on me.

Anyhow, I've wasted enough time on the likes of you."

He was ten feet away when Mr. Leary, his wits sharpened by his extremity, clutched at the last straw.

"One moment," he nervously begged. "Did I understand you to say your name was Ca.s.sidy?"

"You did. Wot of it?"

"Well, curious coincidence and all that--but my name happens to be Leary. And I thought that because of that you might----"

The stranger broke in on him. "Your name happens to be Leary, does it?

Wot's your other name then?"

"Algernon."

Stepping lightly on the b.a.l.l.s of his feet Mr. Ca.s.sidy turned back, and his mien for some reason was potentially that of a belligerent.

"Say," he declared threateningly, "you know wot I think about you? Well, I think you're a liar. No regular guy with the name of Leary would let a cheap stiff of a stick-up rob him out of the coat offen his back without puttin' up a battle. No regular guy named Leary would be named Algernon.

Say, I think you're a Far Downer. I wouldn't be surprised but wot you was an A. P. A. on the top of that. And wot's all this here talk about goin' to a sociable functure and comin' away not suitably dressed? Come on out of that now and let's have a look at you."

"Really, I'd much rather not--if you don't mind," protested the miserable Mr. Leary. "I--I have reasons."

"The same here. Will you come out from behind there peaceable or will I fetch you out?"

So Mr. Leary came, endeavouring while coming to wear a manner combining an atmosphere of dignified aloofness and a sentiment of frank indifference to the opinion of this loutish busybody, with just a touch, a mere trace, as it were, of nonchalance thrown in. In short, coming out he sought to deport himself as though it were the properest thing in the world for a man of years and discretion to be wearing a bright pink one-piece article of apparel on a public highway at four A. M. or thereabouts. Undoubtedly, considering everything, it was the hardest individual task essayed in New York during the first year of the war.

Need I add that it was a failure--a total failure? As he stood forth fully and comprehensively revealed by the light of the adjacent transparency, Mr. Ca.s.sidy's squint of suspicion widened into a pop-eyed stare of temporary stupefaction.

"Well, for the love of---- In the name of---- Did anywan ever see the likes of----!"

He murmured the broken sentences as he circled about the form of the martyr. Completing the circuit, laughter of a particularly boisterous and concussive variety interrupted his fragmentary speech.

"Ha ha, ha ha," echoed Mr. Leary in a palpably forced and hollow effort, to show that he, too, could enter into the spirit of the occasion with heartiness. "Does strike one as rather unusual at first sight--doesn't it?"

"Why, you big hooman radis.h.!.+ Why, you strollin' sunset!" thus Mr.

Ca.s.sidy responded. "Are you payin' an election bet three weeks after the election's over? Or is it that you're just a plain bedaddled ijiet? Or wot is it, I wonder?"

"I explained to you that I went to a party. It was a fancy-dress party,"

stated Mr. Leary.

Sharp on the words Mr. Ca.s.sidy's manner changed. Here plainly was a person of moods, changeable and tempersome.

"Ain't you ashamed of yourself, and you a large, grown man, to be skihootin' round with them kind of foolish duds on, and your own country at war this minute for decency and democracy?" From this it also was evident that Mr. Ca.s.sidy read the editorials in the papers. "You should take shame to yourself that you ain't in uniform instid of baby clothes."

It was the part of discretion, so Mr. Leary inwardly decided, to ignore the fact that the interrogator himself appeared to be well within the military age.

"I'm a bit old to enlist," he stated, "and I'm past the draft age."

"Then you're too old to be wearin' such a riggin'. But, by cripes, I'll say this for you--you make a picture that'd make a horse laugh."

Laughing like a horse, or as a horse would laugh if a horse ever laughed, he rocked to and fro on his heels.

"Sh-sh; not so loud, please," importuned Mr. Leary, casting an uneasy glance toward the lighted windows above. "Somebody might hear you!"

"I hope somebody does hear me," gurgled the temperamental Mr. Ca.s.sidy, now once more thoroughly beset by his mirth. "I need somebody to help me laugh. By cripes, I need a whole crowd to help me; and I know a way to get them!"

He twisted his head round so his voice would ascend the hallway. "Hey, fellers and skoirts," he called; "you that's fixin' to leave! Hurry on down here quick and see Algy, the livin' peppermint lossenger, before he melts away with his own sweetness."

Obeying the summons with promptness a flight of the Lawrence P.

McGillicuddy's, accompanied for the most part by lady friends, cascaded down the stairs and erupted forth upon the sidewalk.

"Here y'are--right here!" clarioned Mr. Ca.s.sidy as the first skylarkish pair showed in the doorway. His manner was drolly that of a showman exhibiting a rare freak, newly captured. "Come a-runnin'!"

They came a-running and there were a dozen of them or possibly fifteen; blithesome spirits, all, and they fenced in the shrinking shape of Mr.

Leary with a close and curious ring of themselves, and the combined volume of their glad, amazed outbursts might be heard for a distance of furlongs. On prankish impulse then they locked hands and with skippings and prancings and impromptu jig steps they circled about him; and he, had he sought to speak, could not well have been heard; and, anyway, he was for the moment past speech, because of being entirely engaged in giving vent to one vehement sneeze after another. And next, above the chorus of joyous whooping might be heard individual comments, each shrieked out shrilly and each punctuated by a sneeze from Mr. Leary's convulsed frame; or lacking that by a simulated sneeze from one of the revellers--one with a fine humorous flare for mimicry. And these comments were, for example, such as:

"Git onto the socks!"

"Ker-chew!"

"And the slippers!"

"Ker-chew!"

"And them lovely pink garters!"

"Ker-chew!"

"Oh, you cutey! Oh, you cut-up!"

"Ker-chew!"

"Oh, you candy kid!"

"And say, git onto the cunnin' elbow sleeves our little playmate's sportin'."

"Yes, but goils, just pipe the poilies--ain't they the greatest ever?"

"They sure are. Say, kiddo, gimme one of 'em to remember you by, won't you? You'll never miss it--you got a-plenty more."

"Wot d'ye call wot he's got on 'um, anyway?" The speaker was a male, naturally.

"W'y, you big stoopid, can't you see he's wearin' rompers?" The answer came in a giggle, from a gay youthful creature of the opposite s.e.x as she kicked out roguishly.