ive 'em a laugh."

"The potentialities of humor as a circulation agency," opined Severance
in his smoothest academic voice, "have never been properly exploited."

"A laugh on every page where there ain't a thrill," pursued Sheffer
confidently.

"You find some of our pages dull?" asked Banneker, always interested in
any new view.

"Well, your market page ain't no scream. You gotta admit it."

"People don't usually want to laugh when they're studying the stock
market," growled Edmonds.

"Surprise 'em, then. Give 'em a jab in the ribs and see how they like
it. Pictures. Real comics. Anywhere in the paper that there's room for
'em."

"There's always a cartoon on the editorial page," pointed out Banneker.

"Cartoon? What does that get you? A cartoon's an editorial, ain't it?"

Russell Edmonds shot a side glance at Banneker, meaning: "This is no
fool. Watch him."

"Makes 'em think, don't it?" pursued the visitor. "If it tickles 'em,
that's on the side. It gets after their minds, makes 'em work for what
they get. That's an effort. See?"

"All right. What's your aim?"

"Not their brains. I leave that to Mr. Banneker's editorials. I'm after
the laugh that starts down here." He laid hand upon his rotund
waistcoat. "The belly-laugh."

"The anatomy of anti-melancholy," murmured Severance. "Valuable."

"You're right, it's valuable," declared its proponent. "It's money;
that's what it is. Watch 'em at the movies. When their bellies begin to
shake, the picture's got 'em."

"How would you produce this desirable effect?" asked Severance.

"No trouble to show goods. I'm dealing with gents, I know. This is all
under your shirt for the present, if you don't take up the scheme."

From a portfolio which he had set in a corner he produced a sheaf of
drawings. They depicted the adventures, mischievous, predatory, or
criminal, of a pair of young hopefuls whose physiognomies and postures
were genuinely ludicrous.

"Did you draw these?" asked Banneker in surprise, for the
draughtsmanship was expert.

"No. Hired a kid artist to do 'em. I furnished the idea."

"Oh, you furnished the idea, did you?" queried Edmonds. "And where did
you get it?"

With an ineffably satisfied air, Mr. Sheffer tapped his bullet head.

"You must be older than you look, then. Those figures of the kids are
redrawn from a last-century German humorous classic, 'Max und Moritz.' I
used to be crazy over it when I was a youngster. My grandfather broug