ations and
delights. If his wife's faith in him had been shaken by his inability to
grasp the fortune which always seemed just within reach; and if, on
Christmas and New Year's and Thanksgiving Day, when they met at Amzi's,
he was a bit uncomfortable, knowing that his wife's share of the
Montgomery money had gone into many ventures without ever coming out
again, Phil could be depended upon to infuse cheer into those somber
occasions. He frequently discussed his schemes with Phil, who was
usually sympathetic; and now and then she made a suggestion that was
really worth considering. Where other members of the family criticized
him harshly behind his back, Phil delivered her criticisms face to face.

"Lo, Phil!"

"Lo, Paul!"

"Phil, what's new about Sycamore Traction? They say your pa's going to
have a receiver appointed."

"If he does they will print it in the papers. How do you like my hat?"

"It's a dream, but I hope you're not going to make trouble for your dear
aunts' husbands by going in for clothes. The competition in the family
is hot enough now without you butting in. Hastings is in mourning at the
bank and Waterman is sad over his last political licking and my billions
are coming by slow freight."

"By the way, Paul, I fell over that busted brickyard of yours out by the
flour mill the other day when I was walking for my health. There ought
to be money in bricks," she ended meditatively.

"There ought, Phil, but there ain't. I'm still hoping to pull that
scheme out, but it takes time. You know this town doesn't know how to
back up its enterprises."

"Cease knocking! What you want to do is to stop trying to organize an
undertakers' trust in this town where everybody lives to a green old age
and get busy with brick. The last time I was in Indianapolis I saw a lot
of new houses built out of brick that looked just about like those
pink-and-yellow effects you started in on. They came from over in
Illinois somewhere, and I guess the clay's off the very same stratum.
What you ought to do is to nail close to some of the city architects and
hypnotize them into using your goods."

"We tried all that, Phil; but they wouldn't listen."

"Let me see; what name did you give those bricks?"

"We called 'em the 'Gold Finish.' Nothing the matter with that, is
there?"

"'Most everything's the matter with that name. Anything that suggests a
gold brick is bound to scare sensible people. Think of living in a house
that p