'This wants
celebrating!' His face fell. 'Oh, I was forgetting! I'm on the
wagon.'
'On the wagon?'
'Sworn off, you know. I'm never going to touch another drop as
long as I live. I began to see things--monkeys!'
'I had a pal,' said Mr Nichols, sympathetically, 'who used to see
kangaroos.'
Nutty seized him by the arm, hospitable though handicapped.
'Come and have a bit of bread and butter, or a slice of cake or
something, and a glass of water. I want to tell you a lot more
about Uncle Ira, and I want to hear all about your end of it. Gee,
what a day!'
'"The maddest, merriest of all the glad New Year,"' assented Mr
Nichols. 'A slice of that old 'eighty-seven cake. Just the thing!'
25
Bill made his way along the swaying train to the smoking-car,
which was almost empty. It had come upon him overwhelmingly that
he needed tobacco. He was in the mood when a man must either smoke
or give up altogether the struggle with Fate. He lit his pipe, and
looked out of the window at Long Island racing past him. It was
only a blur to him.
The conductor was asking for tickets. Bill showed his mechanically,
and the conductor passed on. Then he settled down once more to his
thoughts. He could not think coherently yet. His walk to the station
had been like a walk in a dream.
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