uld have been none other than Mrs. Holton.

At four o'clock on the afternoon of January 2, Mrs. Holton drank a cup
of bouillon at Struby's counter, informed the white-jacketed attendant
that it was excellent, and crossed Main Street to Montgomery's Bank
under the admiring eyes of a dozen young collegians who happened to be
loafing in the drug-store. Amzi escorted his sister at once to his
private room at the rear, poked the fire, buttoned his coat and sat
down.

"Well, Lois, how goes it?"

His question was the one he habitually asked his customers, and he had
no idea that anything of importance had happened to his sister since he
left her at one o'clock.

"The air in the counting-room is bad, Amzi; you ought to put in
ventilators. A little fresh air would increase the efficiency of the
clerks one hundred per cent," she remarked, tossing her muff and a
package on the table. It was a solid package that fell with a bang.

"Then they'd want more pay. You've got another guess coming."

"No. You'd cut down their wages because they worked less time."

He rubbed his head and chuckled. It was plainly written on his face that
he was immensely fond of her, that her presence in the dim, dingy old
room gave him pleasure. He clasped his hands behind his head to
emphasize his comfort.

"I passed Center Church on my way down just as my perfectly good sisters
three were entering the side door. The Presbyterians haven't set up a
confessional, have they?"

"Lemme see. I guess this is the afternoon they sew for the heathen. No.
This is Tuesday. Pastor's Aid Society. Caught 'em in the act, did you?"

"I suppose I did. They bowed and I bowed. When I got to the corner I
turned round to take a look at the steeple and they were inspecting my
clothes. They're rather funny human beings, those sisters of ours. How
do you suppose they ever happened anyhow? How do you suppose they came
to be so good and you and I so naughty? I mention your naughtiness,
Amzi, just to keep from being so lonesome."

"Thunder!" he puffed, evidently rejoicing in the wickedness she
conferred upon him.

"I came to talk business a little, Amzi. Didn't want to do it at the
house. In fact, I'm out of money; broke; busted. I bought a cup of soup
at the drug-store over the way and left my last dime on the counter."

He rubbed his pink pate and cleared his throat. He was not surprised; he
had expected her to be broke. Several times in the week that had passed
sin