"Come out with me then," said the Ooley-cow. "Poindexter and Sprott will
be there too. Yesterday afternoon I played Poindexter for the lunches
to-day. Holed a long putt on the seventeenth green, and stuck him. Come
along, and we'll make Poindexter give a party--for once."
"It can't be done," said I. "Uncle Billy doesn't give parties."
"We'll make him give one," chuckled the Ooley-cow. "We'll insist on it."
"Insist if you want to," said I, "but you'll never get away with it."
"Meet me here at noon," said the Ooley-cow. "If Poindexter doesn't give
the party I will."
I wasn't exactly keen for the Ooley-cow's society, but I accepted his
invitation to ride out to the club in his car. He regaled me with a
dreary monologue, descriptive of the Heidelberg of America, and solemnly
assured me that the pretty girls one sees in Chicago are all from
Dubuque.
It was twelve-thirty when we arrived at the Country Club, and Uncle
Billy and Old Man Sprott were there ahead of us.
"Poindexter," said Perkins, "you are giving a party to-day, and I have
invited our friend here to join us."
Uncle Billy looked at Old Man Sprott, and both laughed uproariously.
Right there was where I should have detected the unmistakable odour of a
rodent. It was surprise number one.
"Dee-lighted!" cackled Uncle Billy. "Glad to have another guest, ain't
we, Sprott?"
Sprott grinned and rubbed his hands. "You bet! Tell you what let's do,
Billy. Let's invite everybody in the place--make it a regular party
while you're at it!"
"Great idea!" exclaimed Uncle Billy. "The more the merrier!" This was
surprise number two. The first man invited was Henry Bauer, who has
known Uncle Billy for many years. He sat down quite overcome.
"You shouldn't do a thing like that, Billy," said he querulously. "I
have a weak heart, and any sudden shock----"
"Nonsense! You'll join us?"
"Novelty always appealed to me," said Bauer. "I'm forever trying things
that nobody has ever tried before. Yes, I'll break bread with you,
but--why the celebration? What's it all about?"
That was what everybody wanted to know and what nobody found out, but
the luncheon was a brilliant success in spite of the dazed and mystified
condition of the guests, and the only limit was the limit of individual
capacity. Eighteen of us sat down at the big round table, and
sandwich-and-milk orders were sternly countermanded by Uncle Billy, who
proved an amazing host, recommending this and that and actually ordering
Rhine-wine cup for all hands. I could not have been more surprised if
the bronze statue in the corner of the grill had hopped down from its
pedestal to fill our glasses. Uncle Billy collected a great pile of tags
beside his plate, but the presence of so much bad news waiting at his
elbow did not seem to affect his appetite in the least. When the party
was over he called the head waiter. "Mark these tags paid," said Uncle
Billy, capping the collection with a yellow-backed bill, "and hand the
change to Mr. Perkins."
"Yes sir," said the head waiter, and disappeared.
I looked at the Ooley-cow, and was just in time to see the light of
intelligence dawn in his big soft eyes. He was staring at Uncle Billy,
and his lower lip was flopping convulsively. Everybody began asking
questions at once.
"One moment, gentlemen," mooed the Ooley-cow, pounding on the table.
"One moment!"
"Now don't get excited, Perkins," said Old Man Sprott. "You got your
wallet back, didn't you? Cost you fifty, but you got it back. Next time
you won't be so careless."
"Yes," chimed in Uncle Billy, "you oughtn't to go dropping your money
round loose that way. It'll teach you a lesson."
"It will indeed." The Ooley-cow lowered his head and glared first at one
old pirate and then at the other. His soft eyes hardened and the
moss-agate look came into them. He seemed about to bellow, paw up the
dirt and charge.
"The laugh is on you," cackled Poindexter, "and I'll leave it to the
boys here. Last night our genial host dropped his wallet on the floor
out in the lounging room. I kicked it across under the table to Sprott
and Sprott put his foot on it. We intended to give it back to him
to-day, but this morning there was an 'ad' in the paper--reward and no
questions asked--so we sent a nice bright boy over to the Argonaut Club
with the wallet. Perkins gave the boy a fifty-dollar note--very liberal,
I call it--and the boy gave it to me. Perfectly legitimate transaction.
Our friend here has had a lesson, we've had a delightful luncheon party,
and the joke is on him."
"And a pretty good joke, too!" laughed Old Man Sprott.
"Yes," said the Ooley-cow at last, "a pretty good joke. Ha, ha! A mighty
good joke." And place it to his credit that he managed a very fair
imitation of a fat man laughing, even to the shaking of the stomach and
the wrinkles round the eyes. He looked down at the tray in front of him
and fingered the few bills and some loose silver.
"A mighty good joke," he repeated thoughtfully, "but what I can't
understand is this--why didn't you two jokers keep the change? It would
have been just that much funnier."