The Hallucination of Mr. Butt

9.—The Hallucination of Mr. Butt
It is the hallucination of Mr. Butt's life that he lives to do good. At whatever cost of time or trouble to himself, he does it. Whether people appear to desire it or not, he insists on helping them along.
His time, his company and his advice are at the service not only of those who seek them but of those who, in the mere appearances of things, are not asking for them.
You may see the beaming face of Mr. Butt appear at the door of all those of his friends who are stricken with the minor troubles of life. Whenever Mr. Butt learns that any of his friends are moving house, buying furniture, selling furniture, looking for a maid, dismissing a maid, seeking a chauffeur, suing a plumber or buying a piano,—he is at their side in a moment.
So when I met him one night in the cloak room of the club putting on his raincoat and his galoshes with a peculiar beaming look on his face, I knew that he was up to some sort of benevolence.
“Come upstairs,” I said, “and play billiards.” I saw from his general appearance that it was a perfectly safe offer.
“My dear fellow,” said Mr. Butt, “I only wish I could. I wish I had the time. I am sure it would cheer you up immensely if I could. But I'm just going out.”
“Where are you off to?” I asked, for I knew he wanted me to say it.
“I'm going out to see the Everleigh-Joneses,—you know them? no?—just come to the city, you know, moving into their new house, out on Seldom Avenue.”
“But,” I said, “that's away out in the suburbs, is it not, a mile or so beyond the car tracks?”
“Something like that,” answered Mr. Butt.
“And it's going on for ten o'clock and it's starting to rain—”
“Pooh, pooh,” said Mr. Butt, cheerfully, adjusting his galoshes. “I never mind the rain,—does one good. As to their house. I've not been there yet but I can easily find it. I've a very simple system for finding a house at night by merely knocking at the doors in the neighborhood till I get it.”
“Isn't it rather late to go...