dicted that Elam would put
the Organization into the Ditch, wrong side up.

The Well-wishers, the Brotherly Lovers, and the total membership of
the Helping Hand Society sat back waiting for Elam to be dug out of
the Debris, so they could collect Witness Fees at the Autopsy.

The Junior earned their abiding Dislike by putting one across.

He made the Fossils sit up in their padded Rocking Chairs and pay some
attention to the Idiot Child.

He never could hold down any Position until tried out for a Captain of
Industry and then he began to Bat 450 and Field 998.

After the dusty Workmen had manufactured the Product, and the Salesmen
had unloaded it, and the Collectors had brought in the Dinero, then
Elam had to sit at a Mahogany Desk with a Picture of Claudine in front
of him, and figure how much of the hard-earned Mazuma would be doled
out to his greedy Employees.

Sometimes he would be compelled to fork over nearly half of the Gross,
whereupon his Heart would ache and he would become Morose.

In a few Years he had a lot of new Buildings, with Skylights and
improved Machinery and all sorts of humane Appliances to enable the
Working Force to increase the Output.

As the Bank Account expanded and the Happy Couple found themselves
going up, Claudine began to scan the Horizon and act restless-like.

She said the Home Town was Impossible. It certainly did seem Contrary
to Reason.

Any Woman with a salaried Husband could bust into Society if she sang
in a Choir or owned an Ice-cream Freezer.

Claudine was for migrating to some high-toned Community beyond the
Rising Sun, where she could sit in Marble Halls and compare Jewelry
with proud Duennas of her own Station.

Seeing Claudine at the corner of 8th and Central, waiting for the Open
Car, one would not have suspected that she harbored Intentions on the
Court Circles of Europe.

One would merely have guessed that she was on her way to the Drug
Store to purchase much Camphor.

But she had taken a peek at the Palm Rooms and the powdered Lackeys
and the Tea Riot at the Plaza, and she was panting inwardly.

She wanted to hang a silver Bell around her neck and go galloping with
the white-faced Thoroughbreds.

It was no good trying to work up Speed on a half-mile track in the
Prairie Loam.

Once in a while Claudine made a bold Sashay to start something
devilish, but the Fillies trained on the Farm did not seem gaited for
the Grand Circuit.

As for the Servant P