Jimmy, meanwhile, was thoroughly enjoying himself. He felt that
he was being the little ray of sunshine about the home and making
a good impression. He was completely happy. He liked the food, he
liked seeing his father buttle, and he liked these amazing freaks
who were, it appeared, fellow-inmates with him of this highly
desirable residence. He wished that old Mr. Pett could have been
present. He had conceived a great affection for Mr. Pett, and
registered a mental resolve to lose no time in weaning him from
his distressing habit of allowing the office to interfere with
his pleasures. He was planning a little trip to the Polo Grounds,
in which Mr. Pett, his father, and a number of pop bottles were
to be his companions, when his reverie was interrupted by a
sudden cessation of the buzz of talk. He looked up from his
plate, to find the entire company regarding Willie Partridge
open-mouthed. Willie, with gleaming eyes, was gazing at a small
test-tube which he had produced from his pocket and placed beside
his plate.
"I have enough in this test-tube," said Willie airily, "to blow
half New York to bits."
The silence was broken by a crash in the background. Mr. Crocker
had dropped a chafing-dish.
"If I were to drop this little tube like that," said Willie,
using the occurrence as a topical illustration, "we shouldn't be
here."
"Don't drop it," advised Jimmy. "What is it?"
"Partridgite!"
Mrs.
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