“Maybe so, Tham—maybe so! But let me say—Great and noble Sing Sing! What are you carryin’ around that long lead pencil for? Is that a part of the costume?”
“A lead—Thay! That ith a cane, you thimp!”
“A cane,” the landlord said, gasping. “He says it is a cane. Well, we have been pals for several years, Tham, and far be it from me to contradict you. A cane! Mighty Auburn!”
Thubway Tham glared at him, flicked an imaginary spot of dust from the sleeve of his coat, twirled his stick, and went on down the stairs to the street. Tham was painfully conscious of his clothes, but judged that the feeling would wear away. He swung down the street to his favorite restaurant, entered as usual, and took his place at the regular table. The customary waitress went forward to take his order.
Tham did not notice that the girl grinned and winked at another, for he was busy glancing over the morning paper. And when his breakfast arrived he ate it quickly, picked up his check, and hurried to the cashier’s cage.
The little cashier Tham knew well. He had eaten there for more than a year, and she had been in the cage during that time. Once, Tham had made her a present of a box of candy, and once he had hustled away a man who had endeavored to convince the little cashier that she should wine and dine with him.
And so Tham and the little cashier were friends in a way, and could talk to each other frankly.
“Good mornin’,” Tham said. “It ith a nithe day.”
“It’s all of that,” said the little cashier. “Oh, boy! Did you lose a bet?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“How long do you have to wear ’em? It’s better than rollin’ a peanut around the block, at that!”
“I don’t theem to get you,” Tham complained.
“I’ll say it’s some scenery, boy!”
“Thome thenery ith right,” said Tham, realizing at last. “There ith clath to it.”
“Yeh! But there are all kinds of classes,” said the little cashier. “Why waste steam blowin’ sirens to welcome the homecomin’ heroes when they could hire you to stand down on the Battery? Noise? Oh, lad!”
“Do I gather,” Thubway Tham asked, “that you do not like thith outfit?”
“I trust that you do, little one.”
“Well, what ith the matter with it?”
“Um! You’re askin’ a mouthful, and I’m a busy woman. If I start in to tell you what’s the matter with that outfit, I’d have to do it in installments.”
“You are a great little kidder,”’ Tham said.
“All jokes aside, boy, why are you wearin’ ’em? Did you really lose a bet? Are you workin’ at some advertisin’ scheme now? Slip it to me; I’ll keep mum.”
Thubway Tham gulped, and a glare came into his eyes. “There ith a time,” he replied, “when a joke theatheth to be a joke. You have had your merry jetht, and let it go at that. Thith thtuff ith thtyle—get me? If you ever went north of Fourteenth Threet you’d know it!”
“Is—that—so? Let me tell you; boy, that I know more about style than half these fashion experts. Fourteenth Street, huh? I live in the Bronx, you simp.”
Without further comment Tham turned and went out upon the street again.
III.
Nifty Noel turned the corner and started southward. This morning he wore the latest in gentlemanly apparel, and was well satisfied with himself. His cigarette protruded from the holder at an angle that expressed the self-confidence of the man who smoked.
Looking far ahead, Noel beheld the approach of a burst of radiance. He blinked his eyes and looked again. The street was thronged, yet the one who approached stood out from the others as if in bas-relief.
Nifty Noel stopped, stood back against the entrance of an office building, and waited. Now and then he looked at the stranger, and then away. It was a crucial moment with Noel; the next minute would tell whether there was a worthy rival for his honors.
Again he turned to look, and then he smiled. There was no denying the splendor of the cloth, yet there was something wanting in the style. Then Noel recognized Thubway Tham, and grinned.
Tham, dodging a hurrying messenger boy, swung in toward the entrance of the building and felt somebody touch him on the shoulder. He turned slowly, to face the grinning Noel.
“Well, Tham, how are you feeling today?” Noel asked.
“I am all right,” Tham stubbornly replied. “It ith a nithe day and I am all right. I am not thick or pale or got hollowth under my eyeth. I am all right.”
“Um!” Noel grunted. “Why don’t you dress up now and then, Tham? I told you the other day that I am here with the helping hand if you happen to be a bit short.”
“I’ve got all the coin I need at prethent,” Tham declared.
“Then why, in the name of Broadway, don’t you loosen up and spend some of it? Why not get some clothes?”
“What do you think thith ith that I am wearin’?” Tham asked, with some show of anger.
“Heaven alone knows, Tham. I supposed it was some old stuff you had in your trunk; supposed you were unable to buy new duds at present.”
“Thay! Thethe are new dudth,” Tham declared. “You are juth jealouth, that ith all!”
“You’ve been stung, Tham. It’s a loud suit, I’ll admit, old-timer, but look at the cut of it. Those lapels are out of date, and the curls of the trousers are too wide. And the coat has a semi-fitting back. Hips a little too full, too.”
“Thay!”
“And your gloves and spats are off a couple of shades, Tham. And you shouldn’t wear a lemon-colored hatband, really, you know. It isn’t being done this season. Mouse gray is the thing, Tham. Somebody must have steered you wrong, old-timer. Did you really buy those things recently? I believe you’re spoofing me.”
“‘I’ll thpoof you with a fitht to the eye,” Tham threatened. “Thith outfit ith the very latetht, and you know it. You’re thore becauthe thomebody elthe ith drethed up, that ith all”
“Do not cause me to indulge in undue merriment, Tham, please,” Noel said. “I believe you are up to some clever trick. You wouldn’t wear those things unless there was a mighty good reason for it. Is it some sort of a joke, Tham? Tell a fellow!”
Thubway Tham’s face turned red, and he gulped and seethed with rage. For a moment Nifty Noel was a bit afraid that Thorn would so far forget himself as to indulge in fisticuffs, and Noel was not noted for fighting. But Tham seemed to think better of it.
“Ath!” he cried, exploding; and then he went on his splendid way up the street.
It was his ill fortune to meet Detective Craddock in the middle of the next block.
“Good Lord!” Craddock exclaimed.
“Thome thenery, eh?” Tham asked. “I wath gettin’ rundown, and everybody thought that I muth be thick, and tho I thought I’d buy me thome new clothe.”
“Shades of Beau Brummel!” Craddock said, gasping. “Did you pay real money for that stuff, Tham? You’re a crook, and I know it, but I won’t stand for you being fleeced yourself. You just give me the name of the thief who sold you that mess of duds, Tham, and I’ll threaten him with the law. It’s a crime and a shame—”
“Thay, what ith the matter with theth thingth anyway?” Tham demanded.
“It’s