ash,
only a fragment of a second, which seemed a blissful pulsing eternity;
and at its conclusion he thought that her finger quivered as it brushed
his own, where he held out the lapel of his coat, and her cheek paled
ever so slightly--but these were dreams, he knew.

"I'm next, I think," grated a usually suave voice which now had a
decided tinge of unpleasantness; and Paul Gresham, selecting a bunch of
violets from the tray, held them out toward Constance, impatient to end
the all too pretty tableau.

"Next and served," Polly briskly told him; and, taking the boutonniere
from his fingers, she whisked it into place and pinned it and extracted
his money--all apparently in one deft operation.

"Thanks," said Gresham, blinking with the suddenness of it all and
sweeping with a glance of gloomy dissatisfaction, Polly, the bouquet,
Constance and Johnny. "I thought you were to be in the caramel booth,
Constance."

"I'm just going back," she informed him, pausing to straighten Johnny's
lapel, patting it in place and stepping back to view the result with a
critical eye. It seemed to need another coaxing bend and another pat,
both of which she calmly delivered.

A handsome passing couple caught Johnny's eye--a keen and
vigorous-looking elderly gentleman, and Springtime come among them in
the pink and white of apple blossoms--sweet and fresh and smiling; as
guileless as the May itself, but competent!

"Excuse me," said Johnny, and tore himself away from the girl whose
natural beauty made Mrs. Slosher an exquisite work of art. "Beg your
pardon, Mr. Slosher."

Mr. Slosher turned and smiled.

"Hello, Mr. Gamble!" he greeted him, while Mrs. Slosher gave him a
bright and cheery little nod. "I played old-fashioned army poker with
Colonel Bouncer and Ben Courtney and Mort Washer and Joe Close last
night--and the old robbers skinned me out of thirty-two dollars. They
spoke of you during the game and I guess you could get backing to any
amount in that crowd."

"Thanks for the tip," returned Johnny. "I may need it."

"You're going to give us our apartment-house property, aren't you?"
Mrs. Slosher knew by his very appearance.

"It's only a matter of closing the deal," Johnny told her with a
perfectly justifiable smile which Constance, from a distance,
criticized severely. He drew an envelope from his pocket and took from
it a paper which he passed to Mr. Slosher.

It was a written offer from the De Luxe Apartments Company for