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"Can I do anything for you, madam?" he asked, with as respectful a tone as he would have used to Miss Hastings herself. The woman turned a pair of startled eyes upon him; then seeming to be reassured, asked suddenly: "Be you Mr. Mallery?" "That is my name. What can I do for you?"
"This is Master Pliny Hastings Mallery at your service," responded Theodore, tossing his boy aloft until he tried to reach the ceiling and yelled with glee. While Winny, after glancing at her husband's face and noting his moved look, answered simply: "We call ours Baby Ben." After Dr. and Mrs.
Stephens' running commentary on his letters. He broke the seal of the Albany one, and glanced at its contents. "Um," he said, meditatively, leaning his elbow on the table and his chin on his hand. "Now to whom shall I send this appeal? I don't know of any one. Mallery?" "Yes, sir," answered Theodore from behind the screen.
Theodore's knowledge of the world and social distinctions had increased sufficiently to make him extremely doubtful concerning the young lady's reception, but Dora was cordial and frank, and said, "Good evening, Mr. Mallery," as she would have greeted any stranger, and set him at once at his ease.
But no descendant of the royal line could have been served more royally than was our friend Mallery at that house, by that young man, then and thereafter. Theodore, or "Mallery," which was the name grown most familiar to him, was rushing down town belated and in haste.
There came a low tapping on the green baize door of Mr. Stephens' private office. "Come," said Mr. Stephens from within, and a clerk entered. "Is Mr. Mallery in, sir? There is a queer looking personage in the store who insists upon seeing him." "Mallery," said Mr. Stephens, turning his head slightly, and addressing an individual farther back behind a high desk, "are you engaged?"
"What the mischief!" began Pliny, then he stopped; and as memory came to his aid, added a short, sharp, "Oh!" and relapsed into silence. "Are you able to get up and go down to breakfast with me?" questioned Theodore. And then Pliny raised himself on his elbow, and burst forth: "I say, Mallery, why didn't you just leave me to my confounded fate?
Hastings, as he finished detailing an account of Tommy's exit from the Euclid House under the supervision and influence of Mr. Mallery. Pliny glanced up from his dish of soup, and opened his eyes wide in pretended surprise. "One would suppose, sir, that you were not particularly grateful to the fellow for his rescue of your daughter from an untimely grave," he said, demurely.
Good-by, Tode Mall, I'm done with you forever. After this I'm Theodore S. Mallery." There was a little bit of a white house, cunning and cozy, nestled in among the larger ones, on a quiet, pleasant street of the city. It was a warm June day, and the side door was open, which gave one a peep into a dainty little dining-room.
"Why no I'll be bound that ain't my name, either. It's Mallery, that's what it is; no Mall about it." Mr. Birge turned and surveyed his caller leisurely, with a quiet smile on his face. "It seems to me, Master Theodore Mallery, that you are sailing under false colors," he said at last. "What have you to do with Tode Mall?" Tode laughed.
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