Responding to the nameless something in John that so insistently and

irresistibly invited confidence, he related the little incident of the

luncheon and her request in regard to temperate orders in the future.

"And I don't mean to say," he replied with winning frankness, "that it

was merely the request of a little scrub-girl that has kept me temperate

through two months of vacation and temptation, but the guileless

suggestion was the spark that fired the flame of a dormant desire to

change--certain conditions."

John again extended his hand, this time in a remorseful spirit of

apology.

Derry partially understood.

"Amarilly has ardently interested friends," he observed whimsically.

"There was one Vedder, a solemn young German, here to-day in my little

maid's interest."

John's call upon the sable-hued preacher, Brother Washington, also

demanded strategic approach. The question of pockets must be delicately

handled lest any reflection be cast upon the integrity of the race, and

their known penchant for pockets.

Brother Washington's sympathies were at once enlisted, however, when he

scented a romance, for John became more confidential in this than in any

of his prior visitations, in his desire to propitiate. But his search

was fruitless here as elsewhere, and he went away convinced that Brother

Washington had not tampered with the pocket.

He went on to the house of the Reverend James Woodville, who had

performed the marriage ceremony at the nuptials of Mrs. Jimmels, nee

Hubbleston. In this instance also no pocket had been discovered in the

garment, so John wended his discouraged way to the office of the Barlow

Theatre.

Mr. Vedder was likewise surprised to learn that surplices possessed

pockets.

The young rector's face brightened at the next name on his list--Pete

Noyes. Of course a boy and a pocket would not long remain unacquainted.

Again he was doomed to disappointment. Pete's dismay when he learned

that there had been an overlooked pocket was convincingly genuine.

"You see," he explained, "I wore it over my pants, of course, and I had

the pockets in them, so I didn't look for no more."

Pete escorted the rector to the "Vawdyville," and by good fortune the

clerical impersonator in the sketch was still on the board, though in a

different act. He instantly and decidedly disclaimed all knowledge of a

pocket.

"It's like that game," grinned Pete. "Button, button, who's got the

button?"

"Yes," agreed John, with a sigh, "only in this case I fear I shall

continue to be 'it.'"

The brakeman, when he came in from his run, was located and he joined in

the blockade that was conspiring against John's future happiness.




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