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If you begin any shootin' we'll begin right into your crowd, and we'll make you sick. There's some warnin' that means somethin'." "Your blood be on your own heads, then, you brass-button despots," said the lawyer, retiring into the darkness and the crowd. He seemed to give a signal, for a rocket shot up into the air, followed by wild yells from the mob.
"Uh?" said the bartender. "Rye, Jimmy," said the Brass-button Man. "Uh-h-h-h-h," said Mr. Wrenn, in a frightened diminuendo, now that wealthy citizen though he had become he was in danger of exposure as a mollycoddle who couldn't choose his drink properly. "Stummick been hurting me. Guess I'd better just take a lemonade." "You're the brother-in-law to a wise one," commented the Brass-button Man.
He even bowed to an almost painfully washed and brushed young usher with gold-rimmed eye-glasses. He thought scornfully of his salad days, when he had bowed to the Brass-button Man at the Nickelorion.
To this he added his address, and sealed it in an envelope to "Miss Nell Doolin." Then he went out into the lobby, and signalled to one of the brass-button imps who went about the place calling names in shrill sing-song; he got this youngster off in a corner and pressed a dollar bill into his hand. There was a young lady in the grill who was to have this note at once. It was very important.
It came to his mind, also, with a peculiar force, that he was by no means sure of the approval of Long Bear and his warriors. They had not sent him out to kill pale-faces and bring upon them the vengeance of the terrible "brass-button men" he had heard of. He had seen a few of them, and had wondered at their great knives, twice as long as his arm.
Wrenn dashed up to the Brass-button Man at his station before the Nickelorion, crying: "Say! You come from Ireland, don't you?" "Now what would you think? Me oh no; I'm a Chinaman from Oshkosh!" "No, honest, straight, tell me. I've got a chance to travel. What d'yuh think of that? Ain't it great! And I'm going right away. What I wanted to ask you was, what's the best place in Ireland to see?"
He felt queer about the scalp as the cashier girl slid out a coupon. Why did she seem to be watching him so closely? As he dropped the ticket in the chopper he tried to glance away from the Brass-button Man. For one- nineteenth of a second he kept his head turned.
She departed with an air of intimacy. Mr. Wrenn scuttled to the Nickelorion, and admitted to the Brass-button Man that he was "feeling pretty good 's evening." He had never supposed that a handsome creature like Miss Theresa could ever endure such a "slow fellow" as himself.
He went to the Nickelorion and grasped the hand of the ticket-taker, the Brass-button Man, ejaculating: "How are you? Well, how's things going with the old show?... I been away couple of months." "Fine and dandy! Been away, uh? Well, it's good to get back to the old town, heh? Summer hotel?" "Unk?" "Why, you're the waiter at Pat Maloney's, ain't you?" Next morning Mr.
At seven o'clock that evening Peter strolled up to the magic bronze doors, and touched them; and sure enough, the blue-uniformed guardians drew them back without a word, and the tiny brass-button imps never even glanced at Peter as he strode up to the desk and asked for Mr. Lackman.
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