And now the Preacher and his vehement lieutenant struck up a last hymn of petition to Providence and man. Those of the Bed Liners whose windpipes still registered above 32 degrees hopelessly and tunelessly joined in.
In the middle of the second verse Thomas saw a sturdy girl with wind-tossed drapery battling against the breeze and coming straight toward him from the opposite sidewalk, “Annie!” he yelled, and ran toward her.
“You fool, you fool!” she cried, weeping and laughing, and hanging upon his neck, “why did you do it?”
“The Stuff,” explained Thomas briefly. “You know. But subsequently nit. Not a drop.” He led her to the curb. “How did you happen to see me?”
“I came to find you,” said Annie, holding tight to his sleeve. “Oh, you big fool! Professor Cherubusco told us that we might find you here.”
“Professor Ch—Don’t know the guy. What saloon does he work in?”
“He’s a clearvoyant, Thomas; the greatest in the world. He found you with the Chaldean telescope, he said.”
“He’s a liar,” said Thomas. “I never had it. He never saw me have anybody’s telescope.”
“And he said you came in a chariot with five wheels or something.”
“Annie,” said Thomas solicitously, “you’re giving me the wheels now. If I had a chariot I’d have gone to bed
