nter. The change pocketed,
we strolled out leisurely, picking our teeth with easy nonchalance.

"'I hated to give that fellow the double cross, but really, old cock,
that is the smallest denomination in the bundle. Wander down to the
Battery with me and we will investigate further.'

"'You're an Englishman,' I essayed knowingly. 'I am on to the lingo.'

"'Not on your life!' said he. Born in Newark, New Jersey, deah boy, I
assure you--right back of the gas-house; what? These togs o' mine were
handed out to me by an old pal--a cockney valet--and the accent goes
with 'em, don't ye know?'

"'I'm on,' said I, sadder but wiser, and then relapsed into reverie.

"The Battery was thronged as usual, but we found a bench away from
prying eyes.

"'Gee whiz! Jumping Jerusalem! Julius Caesar! Joe Cannon!' murmured my
friend as he emptied the stuffing of the wallet into his hat. 'Am I
dreaming again? I've often dreamt that I have found a bunch of
money--picking it out of the gutter, usually--dimes, quarters,
halves--bushels of 'em! But this is different--oh, so different! Can it
be real? Am I on the boards again? Can it be only stage mon----? Look
here; isn't this a windfall? Isn't this a monumental rake-off for a
non-profesh? Heaven knows I'm but an amateur in this line--normally an
honest man, with but slightly way-ward tendencies. Whooping
O'Shaughnessy! Just look! Six one-thousand-dollar bills, fifty
one-hundreds--that's eleven thousand! A sheaf of fifties and twenties,
swelling the total to something like twelve thousand! Hoo-ray! Again I
ask, am I dreaming? Pinch me, I'll stop snoring, 'deed I will. I'll turn
over, dearie, and go to sleep again! Twelve thousand plunks! Wouldn't
that everlastingly unsettle you? Well, well, well! Not so bad for a
moment's effort before breakfast, eh? Ain't it simply grand, Mag? I
wonder who and what our friend is, anyway. He wasn't dressed just for
the part of bank messenger, though he had the inside lining, all right!
A pursy old broker, I guess. Might have been a book-maker--you never can
tell. Anyhow, I am sort o' sorry for the chap. It would break _me_ all
up if I lost a wad of that size! Who is he? Hell, what a fool I am! Here
is the name on the flap of the wallet.

ABNER MCNAMEE,
24 Broadway, New York.

"'Abner McNamee! Abner McNamee!! Abner Mac----! Ain't this the limit!
Abner McNamee! We can't take this money! Just my damned, hydra-headed
luck! You hear me? It has alway