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.