"Well, Skinner, my man," said Jimmy, "how goes it?"Mr. Crocker looked about him cautiously. Then his priestly mannerfell from him like a robe, and he bounded forward.

　　"Jimmy!" he exclaimed, seizing his son's hand and shaking itviolently. "Say, it's great seeing you again, Jim!"Jimmy drew himself up haughtily.

　　"Skinner, my good menial, you forget yourself strangely! You willbe getting fired if you mitt the handsome guest in this chummyfashion!" He slapped his father on the back. "Dad, this is great!

　　How on earth do you come to be here? What's the idea? Why thebuttling? When did you come over? Tell me all!"Mr. Crocker hoisted himself nimbly onto the writing-desk, and satthere, beaming, with dangling legs.

　　"It was your letter that did it, Jimmy. Say, Jim, there wasn'tany need for you to do a thing like that just for me.""Well, I thought you would have a better chance of being a peerwithout me around. By the way, dad, how did my step-mother takethe Lord Percy episode?"A shadow fell upon Mr. Crocker's happy face.

　　"I don't like to do much thinking about your step-mother," hesaid. "She was pretty sore about Percy. And she was pretty soreabout your lighting out for America. But, gee! what she must befeeling like now that I've come over, I daren't let myselfthink.""You haven't explained that yet. Why did you come over?""Well, I'd been feeling homesick--I always do over there in thebaseball season--and then talking with Pett made it worse--""Talking with Pett? Did you see him, then, when he was inLondon?""See him? I let him in!""How?""Into the house, I mean. I had just gone to the front door to seewhat sort of a day it was--I wanted to know if there had beenenough rain in the night to stop my having to watch that cricketgame--and just as I got there the bell rang. I opened the door.""A revoltingly plebeian thing to do! I'm ashamed of you, dad!

　　They won't stand for that sort of thing in the House of Lords!""Well, before I knew what was happening they had taken me for thebutler. I didn't want your step-mother to know I'd been openingdoors--you remember how touchy she was always about it so I justlet it go at that and jollied them along. But I just couldn'thelp asking the old man how the pennant race was making out, andthat tickled him so much that he offered me a job here as butlerif I ever wanted to make a change. And then your note came sayingthat you were going to New York, and--well, I couldn't helpmyself. You couldn't have kept me in London with ropes. I sneakedout next day and bought a passage on the _Carmantic_--she sailedthe Wednesday after you left--and came straight here. They gaveme this job right away." Mr. Crocker paused, and a holy light ofenthusiasm made his homely features almost beautiful. "Say, Jim,I've seen a ball-game every darned day since I landed! Say, twodays running Larry Doyle made home-runs! But, gosh! that guy Klemis one swell robber! See here!" Mr. Crocker sprang down from thedesk, and snatched up a handful of books, which he proceeded todistribute about the floor. "There were two men on bases in thesixth and What's-his-name came to bat. He lined one out tocentre-field--where this book is--and--""Pull yourself together, Skinner! You can't monkey about with theemployer's library like that." Jimmy restored the books to theirplaces. "Simmer down and tell me more. Postpone the gossip fromthe diamond. What plans have you made? Have you considered thefuture at all? You aren't going to hold down this buttling jobforever, are you? When do you go back to London?"The light died out of Mr. Crocker's face.

　　"I guess I shall have to go back some time. But how can I yet,with the Giants leading the league like this?""But did you just light out without saying anything?""I left a note for your step-mother telling her I had gone toAmerica for a vacation. Jimmy, I hate to think what she's goingto do to me when she gets me back!""Assert yourself, dad! Tell her that woman's place is the homeand man's the ball-park! Be firm!"Mr. Crocker shook his head dubiously.

　　"It's all very well to talk that way when you're three thousandmiles from home, but you know as well as I do, Jim, that yourstep-mother, though she's a delightful woman, isn't the sort youcan assert yourself with. Look at this sister of hers here. Iguess you haven't been in the house long enough to have noticed,but she's very like Eugenia in some ways. She's the boss allright, and old Pett does just what he's told to. I guess it's thesame with me, Jim. There's a certain type of man that's just bornto have it put over on him by a certain type of woman. I'm thatsort of man and your stepmother's that sort of woman. No, I guessI'm going to get mine all right, and the only thing to do is tokeep it from stopping me having a good time now."There was truth in what he said, and Jimmy recognised it. Hechanged the subject.

　　"Well, never mind that. There's no sense in worrying oneselfabout the future. Tell me, dad, where did you get all the'dinner-is-served, madam' stuff? How did you ever learn to be abutler?""Bayliss taught me back in London. And, of course, I've playedbutlers when I was on the stage."Jimmy did not speak for a moment.

　　"Did you ever play a kidnapper, dad?" he asked at length.

　　"Sure. I was Chicago Ed. in a crook play called 'This Way Out.'

　　Why, surely you saw me in that? I got some good notices."Jimmy nodded.

　　"Of course. I knew I'd seen you play that sort of part some time.

　　You came on during the dark scene and--""--switched on the lights and--""--covered the bunch with your gun while they were stillblinking! You were great in that part, dad.""It was a good part," said Mr. Crocker modestly. "It had fat. I'dlike to have a chance to play a kidnapper again. There's a lot ofpep to kidnappers.""You _shall_ play one again," said Jimmy. "I am putting on a littlesketch with a kidnapper as the star part.""Eh? A sketch? You, Jim? Where?""Here. In this house. It is entitled 'Kidnapping Ogden' and opensto-night."Mr. Crocker looked at his only son in concern. Jimmy appeared tohim to be rambling.

　　"Amateur theatricals?" he hazarded.

　　"In the sense that there is no pay for performing, yes. Dad, youknow that kid Ogden upstairs? Well, it's quite simple. I want youto kidnap him for me."Mr. Crocker sat down heavily. He shook his head.

　　"I don't follow all this.""Of course not. I haven't begun to explain. Dad, in your ramblesthrough this joint you've noticed a girl with glorious red-goldhair, I imagine?""Ann Chester?""Ann Chester. I'm going to marry her.""Jimmy!""But she doesn't know it yet. Now, follow me carefully, dad. Fiveyears ago Ann Chester wrote a book of poems. It's on that deskthere. You were using it a moment back as second-base orsomething. Now, I was working at that time on the _Chronicle_. Iwrote a skit on those poems for............