o through this."

Durin' which I've been shooed into the parlor. Some parlor it is, too.
I don't know when I've seen a room that came so near whinin' about
better days gone by. Every piece of furniture, from the threadbare
sofa to the rickety center table, seems kind of sad and sobby.

Nothing old-timey about this young female that's studyin' out Mrs.
Bagstock's letter. Barrin' the floppy cap, she's costumed zippy enough
in what I should judge was a last fall's tango dress. As she reads she
yanks gum industrious.

"Say," she breaks out, "this is all Dutch to me. Who's bein' called
down, anyway?"

"We are," says I. "The Corrugated Trust. I'm private sec. there.
I've come around to show Mrs. Bagstock where she's sized us up wrong,
and if I could have five minutes' talk with her--"

"Well, you can't, that's all," says the young lady. "So speed up and
tell it to me."

Course, I wasn't doin' that. We holds quite a debate on the subject
without my scorin' any points at all. She tells me how she's a niece
by marriage of Mrs. Bagstock, and the unregrettin' widow of the late
Dick McCloud, who up to a year ago was the only survivin' relative of
his dear aunt.

"And he wasn't much good at that, if I do say it," announces Tessie,
snappin' her black eyes. "I don't deny he had me buffaloed for a while
there, throwin' the bull about his rich aunt that was goin' to leave
him a fortune. Huh! This is the fortune--this old furnished-room
joint that's mortgaged up to the eaves and ain't had a roomer in three
months. Hot fortune, ain't it? And here I am stranded with a batty
old dame, two blocks below Christopher."

"Waitin' to inherit?" I asks innocent.

"Why not?" says Tessie. "I stood for Dick McCloud 'most three years.
That ought to call for some pension, hadn't it? I don't mind sayin',
too, it ain't one long May-day festival, this bein' buried alive with
Aunt Nutty."

"Meanin' Mrs. Bagstock?" says I.

She nods. "One of Dick's little cracks," says she. "Her real name is
Natalie."

I expect my ears did a reg'lar rabbit motion at that. So this was the
one? Well, I'd got to have a look at her!

"Eh?" says I. "Did you say Natalie?"

"Aunt Nutty's a better fit, though," says Tessie.

"Ah, come!" says I. "She don't write so batty. And anybody who can
notice the difference between fourteen per cent. dividends and three
and a half ain't so far gone."

"Oh, you never could work off any wooden money o