such an occasion? If you'd been away from a wife for
five years, what would you say when you drifted back?"

"That would depend," replied Magee, "on the amount of time she allowed
me for my speech."

"You've hit the nail on the head," replied Mr. Peters admiringly. "She's
quick. She's like lightning. She won't give me any time if she can help
it. That's why I'd like to have a wonderful speech all ready--something
that would hold her spellbound and tongue-tied until I finished. It
would take a literary classic to do that."

"What you want," laughed Magee, "is a speech with the punch."

"Exactly," agreed Mr. Peters. "I guess I won't go over to Brooklyn the
minute I hit New York. I guess I'll study the lights along the big
street, and brush elbows with the world a bit, before I reveal myself to
her. Maybe if I took in a few shows--but don't think I won't go to her.
My mind is made up. And I guess she'll be glad to see me, too. In her
way. I got to fix it with her, though, to come back to my post-card
trade in the summers. I wonder what she'll say to that. Maybe she could
stay at the inn under an assumed name while I was hermiting up at the
shack."

He laughed softly.

"It'd be funny, wouldn't it," he said. "Her sitting on the veranda
watching me sell post-cards to the ladies, and listening to the various
stories of how a lost love has blighted my life, and so forth. Yes, it'd
be real funny--only Ellen never had much sense of humor. That was always
her great trouble. If you ever marry, Mr. Magee, and I suppose you will,
take my advice. Marry a sense of humor first, and a woman
incidental-like."

Mr. Magee promised to bear this counsel in mind, and went forward into
the smoking-car. Long rows of red plush seats, unoccupied save for the
mayor and Max, greeted his eye. He strolled to where they sat, about
half-way down the car, and lighted an after-breakfast cigar.

Max slouched in the unresponsive company of a cigarette on one side of
the car; across the aisle the mayor of Reuton leaned heavily above a
card-table placed between two seats. He was playing solitaire. Mr. Magee
wondered whether this was merely a display of bravado against scheming
reformers, or whether Mr. Cargan found in it real diversion. Curious, he
slid into the place across the table from the mayor.

"Napoleon," he remarked lightly, "whiled away many a dull hour with
cards, I believe."

Clumsily the mayor shuffled the cards. He flung them down o