and Central Station Saturday afternoon. Any objections to our
marching with a band of music down the avenue to the Colossal? We'll
wear our association badges; they are hummers." He felt in his
coat-tails. "I wish I had some with me. Is it necessary to have a permit
to parade?"

"Yes; but there will be no trouble about that."

"Oh, thanks. Will you fix that for us? I've got to go to Wall Street
after one of the bankers on the list of speakers, and I'll be back in
about an hour. Could I have the Mayor's acceptance and the permit to
parade then? You see, it's only a couple of days and I hate to trust the
mail. Thank you. It's very kind of you, and we appreciate it."

The secretary pulled out a letter and a pencil from his pocket as if to
make a note on the back of the envelope, and so Hendrik Rutgers
dictated:

"_The National Street Advertising Men's Association._ Altogether about
one hundred and fifty members and one band of music. So long, and thank
you very much, Mr.--er--"

"McDevitt.

"Mr. McDevitt. I'll return in about an hour from now, if I may. Thank
you." And he bowed himself out.

Hendrik Rutgers had spoken as a man speaks who has a train to catch
that he mustn't miss. That will command respect where an appeal in the
name of the Deity will insure a swift kick. Republics!

In an hour he was back, knowing that the Mayor had gone. He sent in for
Mr. McDevitt. The secretary appeared.

"Did he say he'd come?" asked H. Rutgers, impetuously.

"I am sorry to say the Mayor has a previous engagement that makes it
absolutely impossible for him to be present at your dinner. I've got a
letter of regret."

"They'll be awfully disappointed, too. I'll get the blame, of course.
_Of_ course!" Mr. Rutgers spoke with a sort of bitter gloom, spiced with
vindictiveness.

"Here it is. I had him sign it. I wrote it. It's one of those letters,"
went on the secretary, inflated with the pride of authorship, "that can
be read at any meeting. It contains a dissertation on the beneficent
influence of advertising, strengthened by citations from Epictetus,
Buddha, George Francis Train, and other great moral teachers of this
administration."

"Thank you very much. I appreciate it. But, say, what's the matter with
you coming in his place? I don't mean to be disrespectful, but I have a
hunch that when it comes to slinging after-dinner oratory you'd do a
great deal better."

"Oh," said McDevitt, with a loyal shake of negation an