“Well, we got good seats, but—­well, you know how it is, once things start going wrong.  You know that hat of mine, the one with the daisies and cherries and the feather—­I’d taken it off and given it him to hold when we went in, and what do you think that fell’r’d done?  Put it on the floor and crammed it under the seat, just to save himself the trouble of holding it on his lap!  And, when I showed him I was upset, all he said was that he was a pitcher and not a hatstand!”

Archie was paralysed.  He paid no attention to the hat-check boy, who was trying to induce him to accept treasure-trove to the amount of forty-five cents.  His whole being was concentrated on this frightful tragedy which had burst upon him like a tidal wave.  No possible room for doubt remained.  “Gus” was the only Gus in New York that mattered, and this resolute and injured female before him was the Girl Friend, in whose slim hands rested the happiness of New York’s baseball followers, the destiny of the unconscious Giants, and the fate of his thousand dollars.  A strangled croak proceeded from his parched lips.

“Well, I didn’t say anything at the moment.  It just shows how them movies can work on a girl’s feelings.  It was a Bryant Washburn film, and somehow, whenever I see him on the screen, nothing else seems to matter.  I just get that goo-ey feeling, and couldn’t start a fight if you asked me to.  So we go off to have a soda, and I said to him, ‘That sure was a lovely film, Gus!’ and would you believe me, he says straight out that he didn’t think it was such a much, and he thought Bryant Washburn was a pill!  A pill!” The Girl Friend’s penetrating voice shook with emotion.

“He never!” exclaimed the shocked cigar-stand girl.

“He did, if I die the next moment!  I wasn’t more than half-way through my vanilla and maple, but I got up without a word and left him.  And I ain’t seen a sight of him since.  So there you are, dearie!  Was I right or wrong?”

The cigar-stand girl gave unqualified approval.  What men like Gus Biddle needed for the salvation of their souls was an occasional good jolt right where it would do most good.

“I’m glad you think I acted right, dearie,” said the Girl Friend.  “I guess I’ve been too weak with Gus, and he’s took advantage of it.  I s’pose I’ll have to forgive him one of these old days, but, believe me, it won’t be for a week.”

The cigar-stand girl was in favour of a fortnight.

“No,” said the Girl Friend, regretfully.  “I don’t believe I could hold out that long.  But, if I speak to him inside a week, well—!  Well, I gotta be going.  Goodbye, honey.”