said Pop. He was in his undershirt. Jane had been treating his back with an electric vibrator, purchased that day in the effort to help Pop's rheumatism. She now resumed her massaging of the old man's ailing muscles.
"Let me work that thing, Jane. I'm stronger," Harold offered.
"Do you suppose you can?" Pop asked sarcastically. "Maybe you'd rather be reading the paper about the ball game."
"Don't need to," Speedy returned good-naturedly. "I saw it all on the mechanical scoreboard—almost as well as if I'd been at the game. The Yanks won, 2 to 1."
"That so?" Pop evinced a mild interest. "That puts them in the World's Series. Don't suppose you'd interrupt yourself to look for a job while the Series was on."
"Sure. I got to find work. I'm broke," Speedy replied, all the while gently kneading Pop with the vibrator, which he had taken from the hands of Jane.
They were thus engaged when a suave voice from the hallway said, "May I see you a minute, Miss Dillon?" Carter was standing there smiling.
Jane arose and went to him. They adjourned to the hall and talked in low tones. Harold's manipulation of the vibrator ceased. He stared out toward Jane and the stranger. His first glance at the newcomer was a puzzled one. Then he frowned. He had taken in Carter's dark, sharp visage and he didn't like it. Besides, what right did the fellow
