located to which the other had had reference. Lanky was of course well known to both the druggist and his assistant, the latter of whom he found on duty at that hour in the morning.
"Hello! Socrates, coming down to the river this morning?" was his first question; for Lanky had inherited the clever diplomatic habits of his legal parent, and knew just how to gradually approach the main issue.
"I hadn't thought of it, Lanky. Why, what's going on?" demanded the young drug clerk, one of Columbia's fans on the baseball bleachers, and a fellow quite devoted to every form of outdoor healthy sport.
"We're going to have a little rub with a scrub team, so as to keep in training for the great game with Clifford's Seven after Christmas. Better come down."
"I will, if I can get away. Saturday is a busy day with us, you see. I heard that you had challenged Clifford, and got their acceptance. Wish you luck, Lanky. It's punishment to me to be kept behind this counter when you fellows are out in the open having a jolly time," and Socrates Jones sighed as he spoke.
"By the way, did a fellow just use your 'phone here, a rather tall chap, looking kind of seedy; in fact he might pass for a hobo?" and Lanky put the
