he Movement, as you probably know, and I wish my little society to have
a _very_ artistic emblem."

He looked expectantly at Mr. Gwathmey, who thereupon bowed at the
implied compliment, but, not knowing what to say, said nothing.

"You read in the papers about the parade my poor fellows had Saturday?"

"Not the--er--sandwich-men's parade?"

"Yes!" H. R. smiled so gratefully and congratulatory that Mr. Gwathmey
felt himself enrolled among the honorary vice-presidents. "That's it.
The society emblem is a skeleton and the sandwich-boards are a
coffin--"

"Yes, I read that," and Mr. Gwathmey smiled at the delightful humor of
the conceit.

H. R. instantly frowned at the levity--all very rich men frown at all
smiles aimed at their pet hobbies.

Mr. Gwathmey, knowing the ways of millionaires, hastened to explain,
gravely, "There is a great deal to that idea!"

"Nobody helped me!" H. R. spoke eagerly, as all youthful aristocrats
speak when they speak of their own ideas. "The Ultimate Sandwich! What
you and I shall be at least once. I am glad you agree with me. Now, I
wish statuettes made in bronze in three sizes, two, four, and six inches
high, so they can be used by my friends as desk ornaments. And can you
put on a nice _patine_?"

"Oh yes! And--er--Mr.--ah--" Gwathmey looked ashamed of himself.

But H. R. smiled pleasantly and said: "It is easy to see you are
not a Rutgers College man. I'm Mr. Rutgers. _My_ father--" He
stopped--naturally.

"I'm sorry to say I'm Harvard, Mr. Rutgers," said Mr. Gwathmey,
contritely. "But don't you think it would be a little gruesome for a
desk ornament?"

"Not at all. The Egyptians used to bring in a skeleton at their feasts
so that the timid guests should cease to fear dyspepsia. And the
_Memento Mori_ of later centuries had its _raison d'etre_. I have a
Byzantine ivory carving of a skull that is a gem. Holbein's 'Dance of
Death' is not inartistic. It is up to you people to keep my skull from
being repulsive. I wish to get something that will drive home the fact
to us careless Americans that the richest is no better than the
poorest. For we are _not_!" H. R. said this decisively. When the
aristocrat tells you that you and he are not a bit better than the
proletariat, what you understand him to say is that you also are an
aristocrat. A democratic aristocracy is invincible.

"No," agreed Mr. Gwathmey, proudly, "we are not!"

"Let me have a sketch as soon as possible. It is to