“‘Good old Ben will enjoy it, too,’ says Alonzo; ’and, furthermore, Ben will straighten out one or two little things that have puzzled me about this poet.  He will understand his complex nature in a way that I confess I have been unequal to.  What I mean is,’ he says, ’there was talk when I left this morning of the poet consenting to take a class in poetry for several weeks in our thriving little city, and Henrietta was urging him to make our house his home.  I have a sort of feeling that Ben will be able to make several suggestions of prime value.  I have never known him to fail at making suggestions.’

“Funny, the way the little man tried to put it over on us, letting on he was just puzzled—­not really bothered, as he plainly was.  You knew Henrietta was still seeing the big red splash of Romance, behind which the figure of her husband was totally obscured.  Jeff Tuttle saw the facts, and he up and spoke in a very common way about what would quickly happen to any tramp that tried to camp in his house, poet or no poet, but that’s neither here nor there.  We left Alonzo looking cheerily forward to Ben Sutton on the eleven forty-two, and I went on to do some errands.

“In the course of these I discovered that others besides Henrietta had fell hard for the poet of Nature.  I met Mrs. Dr. Percy Hailey Martingale and she just bubbles about him, she having been at the Prices’ the night before.

“‘Isn’t he a glorious thing!’ she says; ’and how grateful we should be for the dazzling bit of colour he brings into our drab existence!’ She is a good deal like that herself at times.  And I met Beryl Mae Macomber, a well known young society girl of seventeen, and Beryl Mae says:  ’He’s awfully good looking, but do you think he’s sincere?’ And even Mrs. Judge Ballard comes along and says:  ’What a stimulus he should be to us in our dull lives!  How he shows us the big, vital bits!’ and her at that very minute going into Bullitt & Fleishacker’s to buy shoes for her nine year old twin grandsons!  And the Reverend Mrs. Wiley Knapp in at the Racquet Store wanting to know if the poet didn’t make me think of some wild, free creature of the woods—­a deer or an antelope poised for instant flight while for one moment he timidly overlooked man in his hideous commercialism.  But, of course, she was a minister’s wife.  I said he made me feel just like that.  I said so to all of ’em.  What else could I say?  If I’d said what I thought there on the street I’d of been pinched.  So I beat it home in self-protection.  I was sympathizing good and hearty with Lon Price by that time and looking forward to Ben Sutton myself.  I had a notion Ben would see the right of it where these poor dubs of husbands wouldn’t—­or wouldn’t dast say it if they did.

“About five o’clock I took another run downtown for some things I’d forgot, with an eye out to see how Alonzo and Ben might be coming on.  The fact is, seeing each other only once a year that way they’re apt to kind of loosen up—­if you know what I mean.