d unfailing tonic for
the moral system was shortly to be placed upon the market. A large
factory had been engaged for the manufacture of the new commodity, and
distributing warehouses in a central neighborhood. First come, first
served. Ten and sixpence a jar. The paper fluttered out of Mr.
Waddington's fingers. He looked across at Burton. Burton sank forward
in his chair, his head fell into his hands.

"What I want to know," Ellen continued, in a tone of some excitement,
"is--what is there coming to us for this? I never did give you credit,
Alfred--not in these days, at any rate--for so much common sense. I see
they have made you a director. If there's anything in those rotten
beans of yours, you've more in your head than I thought, to be trying to
make a bit of use of them. What are you getting out of it?"

There was a dead silence. Mr. Waddington had the appearance of a man
who has received a shock. Burton withdrew his hands from before his
face. He was looking pale and miserable.

"I am getting money," he admitted slowly. "I am getting a great deal of
money."

Ellen nodded. Her face betokened the liveliest interest. Mr.
Waddington sat like a musician listening to an ill-played rendering of
his favorite melody. Burton thrust his hand into his pocket.

"I failed to send you your three pounds on Saturday, Ellen," he said.
"Here are thirty--three hundred, if you will. Take them and leave me
for a little time."

It is not too much to say that Ellen grabbed at the notes. She counted
them carefully and thrust them into her reticule. Her manner was
indicating a change. The hard contempt had gone from her face. She
looked at her husband with something like awe. After all, this was the
signal and final proof of greatness--he had made money!

"Aren't you pleased about it?" she asked sharply. "Not that I ever
thought you'd have the wits to turn anything like this into real, solid
account!"

Burton set his teeth.

"I am afraid," he said, "that I cannot quite explain how I feel about
it. There will be plenty of money for you--for some time, at any rate.
You can buy the house, if you like, or buy one somewhere else."

"What about you?" she demanded. "Ain't you coming back?"

He did not move. She rose to her feet, raised her veil and came over to
where he was sitting. He smelt the familiar odor of "Lily of the
Valley" perfume, blended with the odor of cleaned gloves and benzine.
The air around him was full of little v