“Great!” said Thomas earnestly.  “You are It, Annie.  But when did these stunts happen?”

“To-night at Professor Cherubusco’s.  He sent his automobile for the Missis, and she took me along.  I’ve been there with her before.”

“What’s the professor’s line?”

“He’s a clearvoyant and a witch.  The Missis consults him.  He knows everything.  But he hasn’t done the Missis any good yet, though she’s paid him hundreds of dollars.  But he told us that the stars told him we could find you here.”

“What’s the old lady want this cherry-buster to do?”

“That’s a family secret,” said Annie.  “And now you’ve asked enough questions.  Come on home, you big fool.”

They had moved but a little way up the street when Thomas stopped.

“Got any dough with you, Annie?” he asked.

Annie looked at him sharply.

“Oh, I know what that look means,” said Thomas.  “You’re wrong.  Not another drop.  But there’s a guy that was standing next to me in the bed line over there that’s in bad shape.  He’s the right kind, and he’s got wives or kids or something, and he’s on the sick list.  No booze.  If you could dig up half a dollar for him so he could get a decent bed I’d like it.”

Annie’s fingers began to wiggle in her purse.

“Sure, I’ve got money,” said she.  “Lots of it.  Twelve dollars.”  And then she added, with woman’s ineradicable suspicion of vicarious benevolence:  “Bring him here and let me see him first.”

Thomas went on his mission.  The wan Bed Liner came readily enough.  As the two drew near, Annie looked up from her purse and screamed: 

“Mr. Walter—­ Oh—­Mr. Walter!

“Is that you, Annie?” said the young man meekly.

“Oh, Mr. Walter!—­and the Missis hunting high and low for you!”

“Does mother want to see me?” he asked, with a flush coming out on his pale cheek.

“She’s been hunting for you high and low.  Sure, she wants to see you.  She wants you to come home.  She’s tried police and morgues and lawyers and advertising and detectives and rewards and everything.  And then she took up clearvoyants.  You’ll go right home, won’t you, Mr. Walter?”

“Gladly, if she wants me,” said the young man.  “Three years is a long time.  I suppose I’ll have to walk up, though, unless the street cars are giving free rides.  I used to walk and beat that old plug team of bays we used to drive to the carriage.  Have they got them yet?”

“They have,” said Thomas, feelingly.  “And they’ll have ’em ten years from now.  The life of the royal elephantibus truckhorseibus is one hundred and forty-nine years.  I’m the coachman.  Just got my reappointment five minutes ago.  Let’s all ride up in a surface car—­that is—­er—­if Annie will pay the fares.”

On the Broadway car Annie handed each one of the prodigals a nickel to pay the conductor.

“Seems to me you are mighty reckless the way you throw large sums of money around,” said Thomas sarcastically.