Part 18

"Al, we come not to take your hard-earned money, but do you good," said Macnooder as usual, genially shaking an imaginary hand.

The Tennessee Shad camped on the back of a chair, drew up his thin, long legs, laid one bony finger against a bony nose and looked expectantly at Macnooder.

Meanwhile Al, without turning his back, carefully moved over to the glass counter that sheltered appetizing trays of éclairs, plum cakes and cream puffs and, whistling a melancholy note, locked the door, scanned the counter, and placed a foot on the cover of the jigger tub.

Doc Macnooder, whose round, bullet head and little rhinoceros eyes had followed the hostile preparation, said sorrowfully:

"Al-bert, your conduct grieves us."

"Go ahead, now," said Al in a tired voice.

"Go ahead?" said Macnooder, looking in surprise at the equally impassive Tennessee Shad.

"What's the flimflam to-day?"

"Al," said Macnooder, in his most persuasive tones, "you wrong me. My motives are honorable. At four o'clock this very afternoon Turkey Reiter will proceed to cash a check and settle for a fountain pen, a pair of suspenders and a safety razor I sold him. Just trust me till then--will you?"

"Nothing doing," said Al.

"Honor bright, Al!"

"No use."

"You must trust me till then."

Al, producing a patent clipper, began to pare his nails.

"Al?"

"What?"

"Won't you trust me?"

"Don't make me laugh!"

"Al's right, Doc," said the Tennessee Shad, entering the discussion. "You ought to put up some guarantee."

Al slowly turned his gaze on the Tennessee Shad and waited hopefully for the real attack.

"Well, what?" said Macnooder.

"How about your watch?"

"It's loaned."

"You haven't got a stick-pin on you?"

"Left 'em at home--never thought Al would go back on me."

Al smiled.

"That's a very nice spring coat you've got on," said the Tennessee Shad, as though struck by an inspiration. "Why don't you put that up for a couple of hours?"

"Not on your life," said Macnooder indignantly. "This coat's brand new, worth thirty dollars."