Piccadilly Jim

limousine, or whileenjoying ten cents worth of fresh air on top of a green omnibus,it jumps out and bites at you. Architects, confronted with it,reel and throw up their h

otta lions, considerably morerepulsive even than the complacent animals which

Mrs. Pett insisted onher husband buying it,

ten of a fine Sunday morning, but the Sabbath calm which was uponthe house had not communicated itself to him. There was a look o

e. He asked but little herebelow. At that moment all that he wanted was a quiet spot wherehe might read his Sund

Willie Partridge, who was working on a new explosive which wouldeventually revolutionise war--she had gradually added to hercollections, until now she gave shelter beneath her terra-cottaroof to no fewer than six young and unrecognised geniuses. Sixbrilliant youths, mostly novelists who had not yet started andpoets who were about to begin, cluttered up Mr. Pett's rooms on

iety and theabsence of anything approaching discipline had given him aprecocity on which the earnest efforts of a series of privatetutors had expended themselves in vain. They came, full ofoptimism and self-confidence, to retire after a brief interval,shattered by the boy's stodgy resistance to educa

the door of the morning-room, but, a remark in ahigh tenor voice about the esse

tes later the process of elimination hadbrought him to what was technically his own private library--alarge, soothing room full of old books, of which his father hadbeen a great collector. Mr. Pett did not re

xperienced that ecstaticthrill which only comes to elderly gentlemen of solitary habitwho in a house f

rd was sprawling in a d

h asombre eye. He resented the boy's tone of easy patronage, all theharder to endure with philoso

ookedoverfed. He had the plethoric habit of one to whom wholesomeexercise is a stranger and the sallow complexion of the

demanded Mr. Pett, his disappo

y. As he had anticipated,the shot silenced the enemy's battery. Mr. Pett grunted, but maden

hought you had," said his step-son complacently. "I canalways tell. I don't see why you

heard me come in.""No, sir! I've only been here a few minutes. I guess one of thefellows was in here before me. They're always swiping yourcoffin-nails. You ought to do something about it, pop.

the open air this lovely

f you will.""I--I have other things to do,"

When I was your age, I would have been out on a morning likethis--er--bowling my hoop.""And look at you now!""W

ind!""I'm only saying what mother . . .""Be quiet

ow another man wouldhave handled this situation. The ridiculous inconsistency of thehuman character infuriated him. Why should he be a totallydifferent man on Riverside Drive from the person he was in PineStreet? Why should he be able to hold his own i

to find a place where he c

r at the end of it. Frombehind this door, as from behind those below, sounds proceeded,but this time they did not seem to discourage Mr. Pett. It wasthe tapping o

" called a

bluesand browns smiling cheerfully at whoever entered. The walls werehung with prints, judiciously chosen and arranged. Through awindow to the left, healthfully open at the bottom, the sunstreamed in, bringing with it the pleasantly subdued whirrin

tt's niece, looked he

tion of itself. When itsmiled, a row of white teeth flashed out: or, if the lips did notpart, a dimple appeared on the right cheek, giving the whole facean air of mischievous geniality. It was an enterprising,swashbuckling sort of mouth, the mouth of one who would leadforlorn hopes with a j

ou, Ann?""Not a bit. I'm only copying out a story for aunt Nesta. Ipromised

uld never think aunt Nestahad such a feverish imagination. There are detectives andkidnappers in it and all sorts of luxuries. I suppose it's theeffect of reading it

in. I never saw such aplace as this house.

allowing in my best chair," said Mr. Pett morosely. "Smokingcigarettes.""Smoking? I thought he had promised aunt Nesta he wouldn't smoke.""Well, he said he wasn'

tt's care, and all her pleasantest memories were associatedwith him. Mr. Chester's was in many ways an admirable character,but not a domestic one; and his relations with his daughter wereconfined for the most part to letters and presents. In the pastfew years she had come almost to regard Mr. Pett in the light ofa father. Hers was a nature swiftly responsive to kindness; andbecause Mr. Pett besides being kind was also pathetic she pitiedas well as loved him. The

mestic troubles in explosive fashion. ForAnn in her moments of maiden meditation had frequ

assby himself. He ought to be sent to a strict boarding-school,

is beingkidnapped. It happened last time he went to school. You can'tblame her for wan

the comicsupplement. That lingering boyishness in him which endeared himto Ann always led him to open his Sabbath reading in thisfashion. Grey-headed though he was, he still retained both in artand in real l

e corridor came a muffledthudding

hell punching the bag

m.""Yes, he's there."Ann looked out of the window thoughtf

tt emerged slowly from

has an infallible remedy, Jerry tells me. He makes alot of money at it.""Money?" Pett, the student, became Pett, the financier, at themagic word. "There might be something in that if one got behindit. Dogs are fashionable. There would be a market for a reallygood medicin

Smethurst does when anyone brings him a fat, unhealthy dog is to feed it next tonothing--just the simplest kind of food, you know--and

he keys of her

se we hadbeen talking of Ogden. Don't you think his treatm

or two of it!"Ann played a little t

the sporting section, for he was a baseball fan of nolukewarm order. The claims of business did not permit him to seeas many games as he could wish, but he followed t

" said Ann, tur

You wouldn't expect it of her.""Your aunt," said Mr. Pett, "lets her mind run on that sort ofthing a good deal. She tells me there was a time, not so longago, when half the kidnappers in America were after him. She senthim to school in England--or, rath

were once more on hispaper. She gave a l

sing, typing aunt Nest

le of medicalinterest in the magazine section, for he was a man who ploughedstead

and gazed at her uncle in concern.

ure in bold lines of a young man inevening dress pursuing a young woman similarly clad along whatappeared to be

llustrationthat Mr. Pett's fascinated eye rested. What he was looking at wasa small reproduction of a photograph which had been inserted int

risen and was peering over his shoulder. She frowned asshe caught s

aunt Nesta's picture there?"Mr. Pe

she will say when she sees this.""Don't let her see it.""She has the paper do

nderstand why the _Chronicle_ takes suchan interest in Jimmy Crocker.""Well, you see he

," she sa

tone arrested Mr.

ence. Mr. Pett coughed. The matter ofyoung Mr. Crocker's erstwhile connection with th

uncle Peter.""Nephew by marriage,"

me a sort of cousin.""A distant cousin.""It can't be too distant f

r in her hand. She waved it be

re formidable than sheappeared in reproduction. She was a large woman, with a finefigure and bold and compelling eyes, and her personality crasheddisturbingly into the quiet

" she demanded, sinkingheavily into t

of the matter which h

sm, and it was his tendency, when he found himselfin a sea of troubles, to float plaintively, not to take armsagainst it. To pick up the sling

ckerman. As I told her."Mrs. Pett paused, and her eyes glowed with reminiscent fire. Shewas recalling the scene which had taken place three years agobetween her sister and herself, when Eugenia had told her of herintention to marry an obscure and middle-aged actor named BingleyCrocker. Mrs. Pett had never seen

nt. The past could look afteritse

a boy of twenty-one needed regular work."Mr. Pett was glad to come out of

ook at this young Crocker's record since he went to live inL

pades at Monte Carlo, and--andeverything. And he must be drinking himself to death. I thinkEu

they publish anarticle about him."She ceased and sat rigid with just wrath. Mr. Pett, who alwaysfelt his re

tough,"

ed on him like a

nything.""No, no," said Mr. Pett, prudently refraining

ion for the first time. She was not veryfond of her

with which theimperiousness which lay beneath Ann's

Peter possibly d

hile. And outside of newspaper work what is he fit for?""My dear child, don't make difficulties.""I'm not. These are ready-made."Mr. Pett interposed. He was always nervously apprehensive of aclash between these two. Ann had red hair and the nature whichgenerally goes with red hair. She was impulsive and quick oftongue, and--as he remembered her father had always been--alittl

boy a job in my of

re six brilliant youths living in his house andbursting with his food at that ver

illie's late father had been a great inventor, but he didnot accept the fact that Willie had inherited the dead man'sgenius. He regarded the experiments on Partridgite, as it was tobe called, with

. "The verything.""Will you write and suggest it?" said

enia would pay noattention. Besides, I c

ak very plainly to her. I shall point out what an advantage itwill be

no sense in bringing the boy all theway over from England if he was to

for Ann, dear.""Why in the name of goodness s

ing of it, uncle Peter

e overhere. You can see by the paper he's having far too good a time inLondon. You can call Jimmy Crockers from the vasty

uldn't it be pleasantfor her if this Crocker

and I were married. Ann was much younger then. You know whatschoolgirls are, kind of foolish and sentimental. It was my faultreall

.""Ann wrote a book of poetry and I had it publ

to say whether withrelief or disappointmen

. All I thought of at the time was that it wouldplease the child to see the poems in print and be able to givethe book

this to do with youngCrocker?""Why, it was this way. Most of the papers just gave Ann's book amention among 'Volumes Received,' or a couple of lines thatdidn't amount to anything, but the _Chronicle_ saw a

ms and what Ann had told himabout her inspirations and quoted bits of the poems just to kidthe life out of them. . . . I thought Ann would never get overit. Well, it doesn't worry her any more--she's grown out of theschool-girl stage--but you can bet she isn't going to get up andgive t

, of course."Mr. Pett controlled a facial spasm wi

spent most of his married lifeeither quarrelling with or separated from his wife, but sincedeath he had been canonised as 'poor dear Elmer.' "Besides, thesea voya

him on the boat," heconcluded. "You know you are a bad sailor.""Very well. Bring Ann--Oh, Peter, that reminds me of what Iwanted to say to you, which this dreadful thin

ch told me. He said Annhad promised to thi

himself that I approved. Ithought that

pe she doesn't.""Don't be foolish, Peter. It would

forceAnn to do anything.""We don't know anything of this fellow. Two weeks ago we didn'tknow he was on the earth.""What do we need to know beyond his name?"Mr. Pett said nothing, but he was not convinced. The LordWisbeach under discussion was a pleasant-spoken and presentableyoung man who had called at Mr. Pett's office a short whilebefore to consult him about investing some money. He had broughta letter of introduction from Hammond Chester, Ann's father, whomhe had met in Canada

is entirely her own affair, and there isnothing that we can do." She rose. "I only ho

at all, would be objectionable in that he wouldprobably take her to live three thous

e interests of his health, had caused to beconstructed in a large room at the end of the

alinstructor, was still there. She wondered who was his companion, andfound on opening the door that it was Ogden. The boy was l

heard Biggsasking her to come for a joyride.""I bet

gs is an awful good-lookingfellow.""What

to go for a ride inthe car with him.""I'll kno

aughed de

uffeur beaten up."Jerry Mitchell turned an appealing face to Ann. Ogden'srevelations and especia

the part, and in these days of pugilists who resemblematinee idols he had the appearance of an anachronism. He was astocky man with a round, solid head, small eyes, an undershotjaw, and a nose which ill-treatment had reduced to a merescenario. A narrow strip of forehead acted as a kind ofbuffer-state, separating his front hair from his eyebrows, and hebore beyond hope of concealm

scue in characterist

t, Ogden,

r been able to understand, but it wasa fact that she was the only person of his acquaintance wh

t's the big idea--ordering a fellow--""And close the door gently

g you, Jerry?"Jerry Mit

d what he was saying about Maggie, Miss Ann?"Celestine had been born Maggie O'

He spends his whole timewandering about till he finds some one he can torment, and thenhe enjoys himse

."Ann went to the door and opened it. She looked down the pass

orrying uncle Peter again, and I'm not going to have it. Iwarned him once that, if he did it again, awful things wouldhappen to him, but he didn't believe me. I

want to know if I can rely on him to helpme.""For the love of Mike."Jerry Mitchell, after an instant of stunned bewilderment, waslooking at her with worshipping admir

uade you to doit for me.""Sneak him away and send him to Bud Smithers' dog-hospital?""For treatment. I l

apping.""Well, it's mighty like it.""I don't think you need be afraid of the penitentiary. I can'tsee aunt Nesta prosecuting, when it would mea

definite sentence. You've never seen mygrandmother, have you, Jerry? She's the only person in the worldI'm afraid of! She lives miles from anywhe

gden isworrying him into a breakdown. Surely you won't refus

tart?"Ann shook

Did you see the paper to-day?""Yes, that's what made aunt Nesta want to bring him over. Ofcourse, there isn't the remotest chance that she will be able tomake him come. Why should he come?""Last time I saw Jimmy Crocker," said Jerry, "it was a couple ofyears ago, when I went over to train Eddie Flynn for his go withPorky Jones at the National. I bumped into him at the N. S. C. Hewas a good deal tanked.""He's always drinking, I believe.""He took me to supper at some swell joint where they all had thesoup-and-fish on b

kick against him?"Ann bit her lip. "I object to him on principle," she said. "Idon't like his type. . . . Well, I'm glad we've settled thisabout Ogden, Jerry. I

he boss in on this, too?""Not yet. I'm going to tell him now. Hush! Ther

to come along and be company on the voyage. You'llbe such a help with Ogden, Ann. You can keep him in order. Howyou do it, I don't know. You seem to make anoth

y?" shesaid winningly. "I want to say something to uncle Pe

't you,uncle Peter?""I wish it was possible.""He's been worr

sighed

tly. There was something in Ann's voiceand, as he looked at her, something in her face which made himfear the worst. Her eyes were flashing with a

hisbetter judgment curled up and died. In Mr. Pett's life Ann'sfather had filled this role. He had dominated Mr. Pett at an agewhen the mind is most malleable. And now--so true is it thatthough Time may blunt our boyish memories the traditions ofboyhood live on in us and an emotional crisis will bring them tothe surface as an explosion brings up the fish that lurk in thenethermost mud--it was as if he were facing the youthful

his I told you about whokeeps the dog-hospital: and the friend is going to keep him untilhe reforms. Isn

rs. And, to complete the terror of the moment, he knew,even while he rebelled against the insane lawlessness of herscheme, that he was going to agree to

g," said Ann, "but Ipromised him that you

. But, Ann! . . . Suppose your aunt finds out whodid it!""

d me in one of his letters that he used to callyou Patient Pete as a boy."Mr. Pett started. Not for many a day had a nickname which heconsidered the most distasteful of all possible nicknames risenup from its

"Patient Pete!" s

is house filled with affected imitation geniuses so that hecouldn't find a room to be alone in?""But, Ann, your father is different. He likes fusses. I've knownyour father contradict a man weighing two hundred pounds out ofsheer exuberance. There's a lot of your fathe

aman who has been solving a problem. "It's your red hair thatmake

red hair, uncle Peter. It's mymis

e's misfortune