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“I can,” said Mr. Billings, “and I will.”

“You had better,” said Mrs. Billings.

III. THE TWELVE ACORNS AND THE LADY’S HANDKERCHIEF

You may have noticed, my dear (said Mr. Billings), that the initials on that handkerchief are “T. M. C.,” and I wish you to keep that in mind, for it has a great deal to do with this story. Had they been anything else that handkerchief would not have found its way into my pocket; and when you see how those acorns and that handkerchief, and the half-filled nursing-bottle and the auburn-red curls all combined to keep me out of my home until the unearthly hour of three A. M., you will forget the unjust suspicions which I too sadly fear you now hold against me, and you will admit that a half-filled patent nursing-bottle, a trio of curls, a lady’s handkerchief and twelve acorns were the most natural things in the world to find in my pockets.

When I had left the poor woman with her no-longer-starving baby I hurriedly glanced into a store window, and by the clock there saw it was twenty minutes of one and that I had exactly time to catch the one o’clock train, which is the last train that runs to Westcote. I glanced up and down the street, but not a car was in sight, and I knew I could not afford to wait long if I wished to catch that train. There was but one thing to do, and that was to take a cab, and, as luck would have it, at that moment an automobile cab came rapidly around the corner. I raised my voice and my arm, and the driver saw or heard me, for he made a quick turn in the street and drew up at the curb beside me. I hastily gave him the directions, jumped in and slammed the door shut, and the auto-cab immediately started forward at what seemed to me unsafe speed.

We had not gone far when something in the fore part of the automobile began to thump in a most alarming manner, and the driver slackened his speed, drew up to the curb and stopped. He opened the door and put his head in.

“Something’s gone wrong,” he said, “but don’t you worry. I’ll have it fixed in no time, and then I can put on more speed and I’ll get you there in just the same time as if nothing had happened.”

When he said this I was perfectly satisfied, for he was a nice-looking man, and I lay back, for I was quite tired out, it was so long past my usual bedtime; and the driver went to work, doing things I could not understand to the fore part of the automobile, where the machinery is. I remember thinking that the cushions of this automobile were unusually soft, and then I must have dozed off, and when I opened my eyes I did not know how much time had elapsed, but the driver was still at work and I could hear him swearing. He seemed to be having a great deal of trouble, so I got out of the automobile, intending to tell him that perhaps I had better try to get a car, after all. But his actions when he saw me were most unexpected. He waved the wrench he held in his hand, and ordered me to get back into the automobile, and I did. I supposed he was afraid he would lose his fare and tip, but in a few minutes he opened the door again and spoke to me.

“Now, sport,” he said, “there ain’t no use thinkin’ about gettin’ that train, because it’s gone, and I may as well say now that you’ve got to come with me, unless you want me to smash your head in. The fact is, this ain’t no public automobile, and I hadn’t no right to take you for a passenger. This automobile belongs to a lady and I’m her hired chauffeur, and she’s at a bridge-whist party in a house on Fifth Avenue, and I’m supposed to be waiting outside that house. One-fifteen o’clock was the time she said she would be out. But I thought maybe I might make a dollar or two for myself instead of waiting there all that time, and she would never know it. And now it is nearly two o’clock, and if I go back alone she will be raving mad, and I’ll get my discharge and no references, and my poor wife and six children will have to starve. So you will have to go with me and explain how it was that I wasn’t there at one-fifteen o’clock.”