The boy in charge was a pretty little chap, and, if I may so state it, was absolutely unclad, but about his shoulders was slung a strap which in turn held a leathern bag, which, to my eyes, suggested a golf-bag more than anything else, except that it was filled with arrows instead of golf-clubs.

   "How do you do?" said I, politely. "Whose caddy are you?"

   "Very well," said the little lad. "Not much to brag of, however. Merely bobbish, pretty bobbish. In answer to your second question, I take pleasure in informing you," he added, "that I am everybody's caddy."

   "You are—the elevator boy?" I queried, with some hesitation.

   "That is my present position," said he.

   "And, ah, whither do you elevate, my lad?"

   "Up!" said he, after the manner of one who does not wish to commit himself, like most elevator boys. "But whom do you wish to see?" he demanded, trying hard to frown and succeeding only in making a ludicrous exhibition of himself.

   Frankly, I did not know, but under the impulse of the moment I handed out the card which the stranger had thrown to me.

   "I forget the gentleman's name," said I, "but here is his card. He asked me to call."

   The elevator boy glanced at it, and his manner immediately changed.

   "Oh, indeed. Very well, sir," he said. "I'll take you up right away. Step lively, please."

   I stepped into the elevator, and the lad turned a wheel which set us upon our upward journey at once.

   "I am sorry to have been so rude

   to you, sir," said the boy. "I didn't really know you were a friend of his."

   "Of whom?" I demanded.

   "The old man himself," he replied, with which he handed me back the card I had given him, upon reading which I ascertained the name of the individual who had rushed past me so unceremoniously.

   The card was this:

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