All
vanished the other way down the passage at Evan's approach.

Evan knocked peremptorily, and the door being opened, he saw that the
multi-millionaire was closeted with a typical specimen of old clo' man,
bearded, dirty and cringing. It was their dispute over sundry articles
in Simeon Deaves' weird collection that had drawn the giggling
servants. It appeared that the old man was the seller. Evan bounced
the old clo' man in spite of his protests.

"I come by appoindmend, mister. I come by appoindmend!"

"All right" said Evan. "Call it a disappoindmend, and get!"

The old man was indignant too. "A very honest man," he protested. "He
was willing to pay me twenty-five cents for my alarm clock. I could
have got him up to thirty. It isn't worth more than fifteen!"

"You can be sure then that he was taking a chance of picking up
something for nothing," said Evan. "When will you learn sense! All
the servants listening and giggling in the passage. Nice story the
alarm clock would make in the papers!"

But it was impossible to make the old man realize his own absurdity.
"Well, you needn't bite my head off," he said pettishly. "Come on,
let's go out. A little rain won't hurt us."

From which it will be seen that their relative positions had undergone
a considerable change since the beginning. Evan had become the mentor
and guide.

In the past the demands for money had come pretty regularly about once
a fortnight, Evan learned. As the end of the two weeks drew near a
certain apprehension was evident in the house. George Deaves was
wretchedly anxious, Evan somewhat less so, while the old man went his
ways undisturbed.

And then the letter came. One morning on his arrival Evan was directed
to the library where he found George Deaves in a state of prostration.
He waved a letter at Evan in a kind of weak indignation. Evan took it
and read:

"Dear Mr. Deaves:

Another story has been written to add to the blithe biography of your
parent. It is the most humorous chapter so far. We do not enclose it,
as we desire to stimulate your curiosity. You can read it in the
_Clarion_ to-morrow evening--unless you wish to reserve that pleasure
exclusively to yourself. In that case you may send a picture to the
rummage sale of the Red Cross at -- Fifth avenue. Mrs. Follett Drayton
is in charge. Send any framed picture and between the picture and the
backing insert five of Uncle Sam's promissory notes of the