foh us which will soon give ouah city an
impetus which will cyahy us fo'ward by leaps and bounds--by leaps and
bounds, ladies and gentlemen--to that highah and still mo' commandin'
place in the galaxy of American cities which is ouahs by right! And now
as you-all take youah leave, I propose that we rise and give three
cheers fo' Lattimore and prosperity."

The cheers were given thunderously, and the crowd bustled out, filling
the street.

"Well, wouldn't that jar you!" said Jim. "This is a case of 'Gaze first
upon this picture, then on that' sure enough, isn't it, Al?"

Captain Tolliver joined us, so full of excitement of the evening that he
forgot to give Mr. Elkins the greeting his return otherwise would have
evoked.

"Gentlemen," said he, "it was glorious! Nevah until this moment have I
felt true fawgiveness in my breast faw the crime of Appomattox! But
to-night we ah truly a reunited people!"

"Glad to know it," said Jim, "mighty glad, Captain. The news'll send
stocks up a-whooping, if it gets to New York!"

CHAPTER XX.

I Twice Explain the Condition of the Trescott Estate.

Nothing had remained unchanged in Lattimore, and our old offices in the
First National Bank edifice had long since been vacated by us. The very
building had been demolished, and another and many-storied structure
stood in its place. Now we were in the big Grain Belt Trust Company's
building, the ground-floor of which was shared between the Trust Company
and the general offices of the Lattimore and Great Western. In one
corner, and next to the private room of President Elkins, was the office
of Barslow & Elkins, where I commanded. Into which entered Mrs. Trescott
and her daughter one day, soon after Mr. Lattimore had been given his
instructions concerning the offer of our syndicate to pay the debts of
their estate and take over its properties.

"Josie and I have called," said the widow, "to talk with you about the
estate matters. Mr. Lattimore came to see us last night and--told us."

She seemed a little agitated, but in nowise so much cast down as might
be expected of one who, considering herself rich, learns that she is
poor. She had in her manner that mixture of dignity and constraint
which marks the bearing of people whose relations with their friends
have been affected by some great grief. A calamity not only changes our
own feelings, but it makes us uncertain as to what our friends expect of
us.

"What we wish explaine