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They emerged to the street and turned the corner into the less populous thoroughfare, known commonly throughout Bloomfield as Pearl Street, and there they came upon Uncle Buzz's horse and buggy, standing as if carved from one and the same block of immutable immobility.
Spider laughed. "You better be a hero and go and enlist." Buzz's head came up with a jerk. "Je's, I never thought of that!" Red struck an attitude, one hand on his breast. "Now's your chanct, Buzz, to save your country an' your flag. Enlistment office's right over the Golden Eagle clothing store. Step up. Don't crowd gents! This way!" Buzz was staring at him, open-mouthed.
"What did you think I was goin' to do? Huh? Stick around here and take dirt from the bunch of you! Nix! I'm through!" There was nothing dramatic about Buzz's going. He seemed to be whisked away.
Uncle Buzz's message in the Rathskeller the night before had been cryptic to the others but plain enough to Joe. Uncle Buzz was in trouble again. Trial balance, maybe. There was no telling. As Joe finished footing up a long column of figures he smiled. It meant another trip to Bloomfield on Saturday. And Saturday was the day after to-morrow. Thus the day wore on.
Uncle Buzz's figure suddenly appeared, hurrying from behind one of these, his face set in an earnest frown. He had evidently seen them from the "Golden Rule," diagonally opposite, and had come the most direct route, through the traffic. "Well, Joseph, this is a surprise." This, thought Joe, might mean anything.
But Uncle Buzz was in a jam, and well, I thought I'd better come." He turned on her suddenly. "Keeping tab on me, aren't you? How'd you know?" "I reckon I'd better, Joe." And then more softly: "Think it's the best way to do? Uncle Buzz's been in deep water before." She rose to her feet and walked slowly to the opposite entrance. "How are things at the works?" He was silent a moment.
I'm sorry, but I really must have a business interview with you before six." And my Buzz's eyes twinkled with something that was of a great pleasure to him I could observe.
If Buzz's family could have heard him in his talk with his street-corner companions they would not have credited their ears. A mouthy braggart in company is often silent in his own home, and Buzz was no exception to this rule. Fortunately, Buzz's braggadocio carried with it a certain conviction.
They must have been waiting for him. The door was opened by a large amiable-looking, middle-aged man who said, "Well, well! Come in, come in, my boy!" a great deal as the folks in Chippewa, Wisconsin, might have said it. The stout old party also said he was glad to see him and Buzz believed it. They went upstairs, much to Buzz's surprise. In Buzz's experience upstairs always meant bedrooms.
Give you a lot of invaluable suggestions as to how to mix up little 'what-for-you's. Get 'em comin' and goin'. Also, Uncle Buzz's got a mint bed that has parts." "There's some patronage we will be forced to do without," Mary Louise replied primly.
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