THE SUNDAY FICTION MAGAZINE, SEPTEMBER 10, 1916
sent me up. I rang- the bell upon the lat
tice door upon the landing:.
"He shouldn't have tried it, anyhow,"
I said to myself. "A man who eats like
a pig ought to look like a pig."
An obviously worthy woman, with an
anxious face and a carelessly placed cap,
came and surveyed me through the lat
tice. I gave my name and she let me in in
a dubious fashion.
"Well?" said I, as we stood together
inside Pyecraft's piece of the landing.
" 'E Bald you was to come In if you
came," she said, and regarded me, mak
ing no motion to show me anywhere.
And then, confidentially, " 'E'8 locked in,
sir."
"Locked in?"
"Locked himself In yesterday morn
ing and 'asn't let anyone In since, sir.
And ever and again swearing. Oh, my!"
I stared at the door she Indicated by
her glances. "In there?" I said.
"Yes, sir."
"What's up?"
She shook her head sadly. " 'E keeps
on calling for vittles, sir. 'Eavy vittles 'e
wants. I get 'im what I can. Pork 'e's
'ad, sooit puddin', sossiges, noo bread.
Everything' like that Left outside, If
you please, and me go away. 'E's eat
in, sir, something awful."
There came a piping bawl from inside
the door: "That Formalyn?"
"That you, Pyecraft?" I shouted, and
went and banged the door.
"Tell her to go away."
I did.
Then I could hear a curious pattering
Upon the door, almost like some one feel
ing for the handle in the dark, and Pye
craft's familiar grunts.
"It's all right," I said, "she's gone."
But for a long time the door didn't
open.
I heard the key turn. Then Pye
craft's voice said: "Come in."
I turned the handle and opened the
door. Naturally I expected to see Pye
craft. Well, you know, he wasn't there!
I never had such a shock in my life.
There was his sitting-room In a state of
untidy disorder, plates and dishes among
the books and writing things, and sev
eral chairs overturned, but Pyecraft
"It's all right, o' man; shut the door,"
he said, and then I discovered him.
There he was, right up close to the
cornice in the corner by the door, as
though some one yad glued him to the
ceiling. His face was anxious and
angry. He panted and gesticulated.
"Shut the door," ho said. "If that wom
an gets hold of It " x
I shut the door and went and stood
away from him and stared.
"If anything gives way and you tum
ble down," I said, "you'll break your
neck, Pyecraft."
"I wish I could," he wheezed.
"A man of your age and weight get
ting up to kiddish gymnastics "
"Don't," he said, and looked agonized.
"I'll tell you," he said, and gesticu
lated. "How the deuce," said I, "are you
holding on up there?"
"
AND then abruptly I realized he was
not holding on at all; he was float
ing up there just as a gas filled bladder
might have floated in the same position.
He began a struggle to thrust himself
away from the ceiling and to clamber
down s the wall to me. "It's that pre
scription," he panted, as he did so.
"Your great-gran "
He took hold of a framed engraving
rather carelessly as he spoke and it gave
way, and . he flew back to the ceiling
again, while the picture smashed onto
the sofa. Bump he went against the
ceiling, and I knew then why he was all
over white on the more .salient curves
and angles of bis person. He tried again
more carefully, coming down by way of
the mantels- ' i
It was really a most extraordinary,
spectacle, that great, fat, apoplectic
looking man upside down, and trylngto
get from the coiling to the floor. "That
prescription," he said. "Too successful.
"How?"
"Loss of weight almost complete."
And then, of course, I understood.
"By Jove, Pyecraft," said I, "what
you wanted was a cure for fatness! But
you always called it weight. You would
call it weight."
Somehow I was extremely delighted.
T quite liked Pyecraft, for the time. "Let
me help you!" I said, and took his hand
and pulled him down. He kicked about,
trying to get foothold somewhere. It
was very like holding a flag on a windy
day.
"That table," he said, pointing, "is
solid mahogany and very heavy. If you
can put me under that "
1DID, and there he wallowed about
like a captive balloon, while I Btood on
his hearth rug and talked to him.
I lit a cigar. "Tell me," I said, "what
happened?"
"I took it," he said.
"How did 'it taste?"
"Oh, beastly!"
I should fancy they all did. Whether
one regards the ingredients or the prob
able compound or the possible results,
almost all my great-grandmother's rem
edies appear to me at least to be ex
traordinarily uninviting, for my own
part
"I took a little sip first"
"Yes?"
"And as I felt lighter and better after
an hour, I decided to take the draught"
deuce," . I O fcl MM&i"-- ' V - V
said , I A ' yC-iEft yf ' y V- r
you A. mTv'
holding i? V 1
on up J 'Mi
there?" fL rt' -
-4
"My dear Pyecraft!" .
"I held my nose," he explained. "And
then I kept on getting lighter and light
er and helpless, you know."
He gave way suddenly to a burst of
passion. "What the goodness am I to
do?" he said.
"There's one thing pretty evident" I
said, "that you mustn't do. If you go
out of doors you'll go up and up." I
waved an arm upward. "They'd have to
send Santos-Dumont after you to bring
you down again."
"I suppose it will wear off?"
I shook my head. "I don't think you
can count on that" I said.
And then there was another burst of
passion, and he kicked out at adjacent
chairs and banged the door. He behaved
just as I expected a great fat, self-indulgent
man to behave under trying cir
cumstances that is to say, very badly.
He spoke of me and my great-grand-,
mother with an utter want of discretion.
"I never asked you to take the stuff," ,
I said.
And generously disregarding the in
sults he was putting upon me, I sat down
in his armchair and began to talk to him
in a sober, friestdl fashion. c ..
I pointed out to him that this was a
trouble he had brought upon himself,
and that it had almost an air of poetical
justice.. He had eaten too much. This
he disputed, and for
a time we argued the
point.
He became noisy
and violent, so I de-
Bis ted from this as
' pect of his lesson.
"And then," said I,
"you committed the
sin of euphuism. You called it not
2at, which is just and inglorious,
but weight. You " .
He interrupted to say that he
recognized all that What was he
to do?
I suggested that he should adapt
himself to his new conditions. So
we came to the really eible part
of the business. I suggested that it
would not be difficult for him to
learn to walk about on the ceiling
with his hands
fl can't sleep," he said.
But that was no great difficulty. It
was quite possible, I pointed out, to
make a shake-up under a wire mattress,
fasten the under things on with tapes,
and have a blanket sheet and coverlet
to button at the side. He could have a
ladder in his room, and all his meals
could be laid on top of his bookcase. We
also hit on an ingenious device by which
he could get to the floor whenever he
wanted, which was simply to put the
British Encyclopedia (tenth edition) on
the top of his open shelves. He just
pulled out a couple of volumes and held
on, and down he came. .And we agreed
there must be iron staples along the
skirting, so that he could cling to those
whenever he wanted to get about the
room on the lower level.
S WE got 'on with the thing I found
myself, keenly interested. It was 'I
who called in the housekeeper and broke
matters to her, and it was I chiefly who
fixed up the inverted bed. In fact I
spent two whole days at his fiat I am
a handy, interfering .sort of man with a
screwdriver, and I made all sorts of in
genious adaptations for him ran a, wire
to bring his bells within reach, turned
all his electric lights up Instead of down,
and so on. The whole affair was ex-
A'
f tremely curious and
,-' interesting to me,
and it was delightful
to think of Pyecraft
like some great, fat
blowfly, crawling
about on his ceiling
and clambering
around the lintels of
his doors from one
room to another, and never, never, never
coming to the club any more.
Then, you know, my fatal Ingenuity
got the better of me. "By Jove, Pye
craft!" I said, "all this is unnecessary."
And before I could calculate the com
plete consequences of my notion I blurt
ed it out. "Lea'd underclothing," said I,
and the mischief was done.
Pyecraft received the thing almost In
tears. "To be right way up again '.'
he said.
I gave him the whole secret before I
saw where it would take me. "Buy
sheet lead," I said; "stamp it into disks.
Sew 'em all over" your underclothes until
you have enough. Have lead-soled boots,
carry a bag of solid lead, and the thing
is done! Instead of being a prisoner
here you may go abroad again, Pyecraft;
you may travel "
in ms emotion ne cropped the tack
hammer within an ace of my head. "By
Jove!" he said, "I shall be able to come
back to the club again."
The thing pulled me up short "By
Jove!" I said faintly. "Yes. Of course '
you will."
He did. He does. There he sits be
hind me now, stuffing as I live a third
go ojt buttered tea cake. And none In
the whole world knows except his
housekeeper and me that he weighs
practically nothing; that he is a mere
boring mass of assimilatory matter,
mere clouds in clothing, niente, nefas,
the most inconsiderable of men. There
h sits watching until I have done, this
writing. Then, If he can, he will way
tlay me. He will come billowing up to
He will tell me over again all abou
it how it feels, how It doesn't feel, how
mHncuaies no pes n is passing OH a -little.
And always somewhere In that ,
fat abundant discourse he will say:
The secret's keeping, eh? If anyone
knew of It, I should be so ashamed!
Makes a fellow look such a fool,
you know. Crawling about on a ceiling-'
nd all that . .
And now to elude Pyecraft occupy-
position between me and the door. '-
ICocTricht. 1905. by Chrle Scribner'a &mi1 '