Beta Book

"
"Sorry," said the dogged soldier of dreams.
"Why--" wailed that hurt and astonished victim of ingratitude,
Mr. Guilfogle.
"I'll leave the middle of June. That's plenty of notice,"
chirruped Mr. Wrenn.
At five that evening Mr. Wrenn dashed up to the Brass-button Man
at his station before the Nickelorion, crying:
"Say! You come from Ireland, don't you?"
"Now what would you think? Me--oh no; I'm a Chinaman from Oshkosh!"
"No, honest, straight, tell me. I've got a chance to travel.
What d'yuh think of that? Ain't it great! And I'm going right
away. What I wanted to ask you was, what's the best place in
Ireland to see?"
"Donegal, o' course. I was born there."
Hauling from his pocket a pencil and a worn envelope, Mr. Wrenn
joyously added the new point of interest to a list ranging from
Delagoa Bay to Denver.
He skipped up-town, looking at the stars. He shouted as he saw
the stacks of a big Cunarder bulking up at the end of Fourteenth
Street. He stopped to chuckle over a lithograph of the
Parthenon at the window of a Greek bootblack's stand.


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