bogus attachment for fifteen thousand."

Constance and Loring looked at each other in dismay.

"I'll bring in a bill for that after four o'clock," promised Loring,
laughing as lightly as he could.

"After four," repeated Johnny, coming from behind the screen with a
towel in his hands. "You didn't pay it, did you?"

"That's an entirely separate deal," evaded Loring.

"Where did you get the money?" demanded Johnny, and scrutinizing the
confused face of Constance, he knew.

Johnny smiled gratefully at her and patted her on the shoulder as he
walked quietly behind the screen. Great Scott! He glanced over the
screen at the clock. Where could he make ten thousand dollars in
fifteen minutes? He had to have that million and it must be clear! He
reached for a comb with one hand and for his hat with the other.

Winnie and Sammy Chirp rushed into the office--Winnie in a bewildering
new outfit of pure white, beaming all over with importance, and Sammy
smiling as he had never smiled before.

"Where on earth have you been?" demanded Polly. "I've been telephoning
for you all day."

"Well," explained Winnie volubly, "I took a notion to marry Sammy. I
just thought that if I mentioned it to you you'd want me to wait a
while, and when it did happen it would be a regular fussy affair."

"Honestly, child, I don't know whether to scold you or kiss you," broke
in Polly. "Sammy, come here."

Sammy came, not only obediently but humbly, though he never ceased to
smile; and he looked her squarely in the eyes.

Polly surveyed him long and earnestly.

"I guess it's the best thing that could have happened to both of you,
but I'll have a dreadful time looking after such a pair!"

"I'll look after my husband myself, if you please!" indignantly
protested Winnie.

Everybody laughed, and Polly started the popular ceremony of kissing
the bride.

Johnny Gamble came thoughtfully from behind the screen. He had not
heard the commotion, nor was he even now aware that Winnie and Sammy
had been added to the party. He had a broken comb in his hand.

"Bruce," said he, looking steadfastly at the comb, "did you ever feel
the need of a comb of your own in a public wash room?"

"I've sent a boy six blocks to buy one," responded Bruce with a surge
of recurrent indignation.

"It's the curse of the nation," Val earnestly assured him. "You are
ready for the theater. You have fifteen minutes to spare. You drop into
a gilded palace of crime to drink