re going to be a little
disappointed."

Henry shook his head. "Then you've sized me up all wrong," he said,
much subdued. "Because no matter what I get, I'm going to be satisfied
that Uncle John wanted me to have it. Besides, I've apparently got to
hump myself, or I don't get anything at all. Aunt Mirabelle gave me
some idea of it--I'd thought it was probably an interest in the
business, but Bob Standish says it isn't."

"No, it's a building. 361 Main Street. But it's rather more than a
mere building; it _is_ a business. It's leased until next Monday;
after that it's yours to operate. The deed's recorded now. It's yours
outright. Did your aunt tell you what the conditions are?"

"All or nothing!"

"Yes. Oh, he made a separate provision for Miss Starkweather; she'll
never go hungry; but the bulk of the estate depends on what you do
with the business in the next year. And strictly between ourselves,
your uncle expected you to finish with a bit to spare."

"I know this much; if it's anything _he_ doped out for me, it's an
even bet. It's to make ten thousand dollars?"

"Yes, and without any outside help except straight commercial
loans--if you can get 'em. No favours from anybody, and no free keep
from your families."

"What building is it, Mr. Archer?"

The lawyer paused to wipe his glasses. "It's one your uncle took over
on a mortgage last winter.... You see, Henry, he'd figured out what he
was going to do with you, and it would have been this same thing even
if he'd lived. He picked out what he thought would do you the most
good--get you in touch with different people--break down some of your
(excuse me for being blunt) class prejudice--teach you how many dimes
there are in a dollar. And for that reason he expressly stipulated
that you've got to keep your own books. That'll give you more of a
respect for money than anything else would, I guess."

"Keep my own books?"

"That's the way Mr. Starkweather began--only in his case, he kept
somebody else's. But I warned you to expect something out of the
ordinary."

"Oh, yes," said Henry. "I was all set for _some_ kind of a low-brow
job. What is it--a garage?"

"I'm afraid you'll think a garage is fashionable, compared with it."

Henry looked serious. "361 Main? I don't seem to--What on earth _is_
it, Mr. Archer?"

"Go down and look at it. Only don't be shocked, Henry; because it's
exactly what he'd have given you to do, anyway. And then let me know
what your