THE MAN IN THE WINDOW
"That's all right, deacon," interrupted Lucky Lee, reaching an arm up around one of Young's good shoulders, "come on—your supper'll get cold. We'll talk about that later on. Good-night, Mr. Chest-weights."
"Good-night, Mr. Man," the others shouted, and all together they went whistling and hurrying down the stairs.
As they turned off Broadway into the quiet little side street where the reunion was going on, some of the others began to sing softly together,
"Here's to ninety-blank, drink her down,"
and the rest of the old song.
Young and Lee were still walking together. "But say, Lucky," Young was saying, "I can't waste any more time looking for something to do. How am I going to earn a living in the meanwhile?"
"Don't! Stay with me instead. I've got a double bed. You've slept with me often enough before. Remember that first time. Deacon, in our Freshman year when we got
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