ustled the old man into a decrepit conveyance that was drawn up to
the curb and they started immediately for Henry D. Feldman's office.

"Honest, Aaron," Uncle Mosha sighed, "I feel like I was riding to my own
funeral."

"Don't worry, Uncle Mosha," Aaron said; "with the _tzuris_ which I got
it lately you would quicker ride to mine."

"Well, Aaron," Uncle Mosha rejoined, "as old man Baum used to say, we
all got to die sooner or later, Aaron; and all we could take with us is
our good name."

"You wouldn't got to pay no excess baggage rates on that," Aaron said
as the carriage came to a stop in front of Feldman's office building.

Two minutes later they entered the offices of Henry D. Feldman and were
ushered immediately into the presence of that distinguished advocate
himself. As they passed through the doorway Feldman rose from his seat.
He was not alone, for at one side of a long library table sat Leon
Sammet, while opposite to him a tall, sandy-haired person methodically
arranged various bundles of papers which he drew out of capacious
pasteboard envelopes.

"Ah, gentlemen, you're here at last," Feldman cried. "Mr. Jones, this is
Mr. Kronberg and his nephew, Mr. Aaron Kronberg. Mr. Jones is a
representative of the Land Insurance & Title Guarantee Company, who at
my request has examined the title to your house, Mr. Kronberg."

"All right," Uncle Mosha said; "I ain't scared of 'em. I owned the house
since 1890 already--that's pretty near twenty years, and I ain't paid no
Confederate money for it neither."

Mr. Jones cleared his throat noisily, and as he did so a round white
object leaped from beneath his collar and bumped against his chin. It
was his Adam's apple.

"Did you say you owned the house twenty years?" he inquired in tones of
such profundity that Feldman was obliged to ask him to repeat his
question. At the second repetition Uncle Mosha said that it might be a
month less than twenty years.

"The record shows that you bought the house a little more than nineteen
years ago," Mr. Jones continued--his manner suggested a hanging judge in
the act of assuming the black cap--"and therefore you could claim no
adverse possession, even assuming there were no disabilities."

"What d'ye mean, claim?" Uncle Mosha asked with asperity. "I don't claim
nothing. I already got seven hundred and fifty dollars and there is
coming to me eight thousand dollars more."

"I think, Mr. Jones," Feldman interrupted, "I ought t