The Humorist
"Has he any money?"
"No," said Georgie, slowly.
"Has he quarrelled with his people, too?"
"Not exactly; only they don't quite approve of him. He's a helpless sort of beggar, you know; can't do anything but tinkle out accompaniments rather badly. He wired home, and I saw the wire, but there's been no answer to it. He said: 'Lappin missing. Nanty mendzes.'"
"Nanty what?" Drusilla asked in astonishment.
"Nanty mendzes," Georgie explained proudly. "'No money,' he meant. It's professional slang. I've learnt a lot of it the last few days."
"Oh!" Drusilla looked at the fire. "Georgie, don't think me very hateful, but isn't it just possible that these people may be taking you in?"
"No," said Georgie, shortly; "it isn't. I know a nice girl when I see one."
"You ought to." I spoke softly, and he disregarded the jeer.
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