le grease.

"Richard, don't speak of such a thing again, even in fun. Like our
little cottage home I am not in the market. Now let us talk again of
things more pleasant than Mr. Cheatham, or the missing securities. When
we put that new wing on, you shall have a den of your own; and I expect
to enjoy the comfort of an up-to-date bathroom, something I have always
wanted. But not a penny shall we spend until that delightful little
inheritance is safely in our hands. What a Paradise we can make of our
dear home in time, eh, Dick?"

And so they talked on as the time flew, picturing happy scenes, and more
of comfort than they had ever known; really it seemed to Dick that the
shadow he had felt hovering over his devoted head did not appear so
formidable after all, with a mother's love to take away its bitter
sting.

CHAPTER XX

A RED LETTER DAY

The following morning was very damp and depressing.

Lowering skies and a drizzling rain made a combination that must have
its effect upon even the cheeriest nature; and while Dick laughed as
usual up to the time he left home for town, it was not long before his
spirits began to sink to a lower ebb.

The situation that confronted him was far from reassuring.

Even though there were germs of truth in the suggestion that Mr. Winslow
had seized upon with such alacrity, how could they ever hope to prove
it, since there seemed to be no way in which either of them could enter
the home of Archibald Graylock, and make a search for the missing
securities.

He had to pass the big department store on his way to the bank; or
rather, having a little time to spare he went out of his way a few paces
in order to ascertain what the crowd that he saw standing around meant.

Something out of the usual run must have happened, for a score of people
with umbrellas over their heads could be seen in what seemed to be
attitudes of curiosity, necks being craned and eyes turned toward the
store.

Among them he saw several whom he knew had held positions in Mr.
Graylock's employ, and this was a very suspicious fact.

Seeing a young fellow he happened to know very well, and who had been a
clerk in the place, Dick asked the usual question:

"What's going on here, Dud?"

The other shrugged his shoulders as he replied:

"The old man is in the hands of his creditors. They've shut him up, and
I understand that it's a bad business all around--may not pay twenty
cents on the dollar. Meanwhile