Evening star., 1922-02-26

that ex-hub Of the city, wore . more
than usually tough and battered look.
Mr.. "Blinky" Anderson, the proprie-
tor, welcomed him with quite marked
satisfaction He examined the In
jured eye, stamped 1t with the seal OF
his approval as ''some lamp" and In
formed him that his weekly envelope
would contain % and that his food
was presented free by the manage
ment.
Freddie was a sociable being. and
could be happy anywhere. so long as
he was not bored. The East Side Del
monico's life was too full of move
ment to permit Of ennui. He soon
perceived that there was more In this
curious establishment than met the
eye. It offered attractions to the cog
noscenti other than the mere restora-
ton Of the inner man with meat and
drink, the fatter including openly
served malt and spirituous liquor. On
the frst floor, provided that you could
convince the management Of the ex-
cellence Of your motives, you could
buck the tiger. On the floor above,
II you were that kind Of idiot. you
might play roulette. And in the base
ment, lit with countless electric
lights. boxing contests were held on
Saturday nights before audiences
financially, If not morally, select.
In fact, the East Side Delmonico's
was nothing moro or less than .
den Of iniquity. But Freddie reveled
in his duties. He booked orders,
served drinks. smashed plates, bullied
the cook, chaffed the customers when
they were merry. seized them by the
neck and ran them into the street
when they were too merry. and In
every way comported himself like ono
who has at last found his true voca.
ton. And time rolled on.
We will leave time rolling for the
moment and return to Mr.. Bivatt,
raising the curtain At the beginning
Of his tete-a-tete dinner with his fell
low plutocrat, r. Mortimer Dunlop.
T. Mortimer was the other sort Of mill
Monaire. He bulged. His head was
bald, his face purple, his hands red.
He was accustomed to refer to him.
self somewhat frequently as . dead
game sport. He wheezed when he
spoke.
I raise the curtain on Mr.. Bivatt
at the beginning Of dinner because
1t was then that he allowed Mr Dun
lop to persuade him to drink q Dawn
Of Hope cocktail. SO called because itl
up
MIR. BIvATT needed cheering up.
A'A That very afternoon his only son.
Twombley, had struck him for $1,000
to pay a poker debt. A thousand dol
lars is not Q large sum to q man of
Mr.. Bivatt's wealth, but It is your
really rich man who unbelts least
1oyously. There was no doubt that
Twombley was trial Mr.. Bivatt
sighed and took . pepsin tabloid.
It was at this point that T. Nor.
timer Dunlop. summoning the special
waiter. ordered two Dawn of Hope
cocktails. Mr.. Bivatt weakly surren-
dered. He was there entirely to please
Mr.. Dunlop, for there was q big deal
in the air. to which Mr Dunlop's CO.
operation was essential This was no
time to think about ones digestion
or the habits Of lifetime. II, to con-
oiliate invaluable Mr.. Dunlop, It was
necessary to be q dead-game sport
and drink cocktail, then a dead
game sport he would be. He took
the curious blend. served In a bouillon
cup. and pecked at it like a nervous
bird. He blinked and pecked again,
less nervously.
Mr.. Bivatt for thirty years had con-
fined his potions to hot water. and the
effect on him was remarkable, even
since prohibition. He no longer felt
depressed, Hope, so to speak, had
dawned with Jerk. Life was a thing
Of wonderful JOY and infinite possi-
bilities.
We. therefore, find him at the end
Of dinner leaning across the table.
humping It with cienched list. ana
addressing Nh 0unlou Through the