ss
gladsome romp through the daisy fields. It's a real job!

He's the one, you know, that poor old Pyramid Gordon--rest his
soul!--picked out to round up all the hangover grouches he'd strewed
behind him durin' a long and active career, with instructions to soothe
the same with whatever balm seemed best, regardless of expense.

And the hard part of it for Steele is that he has to get my O.K. on all
his schemes before he can collect from the estate. And while I don't
bill myself for any expert on lovin'-kindness, and as a gen'ral thing I
ain't of a suspicious nature, I'm wise enough to apply the acid test and
bore for lead fillin' on anything he hands in. Course maybe I'm too hard
on him, but it strikes me that an ex-pool organizer, who makes a livin'
as capper for a hotel branch of a shady stock-brokin' firm, ain't had
the best kind of trainin' as an angel of mercy.

So when he shows up at my Physical Culture Studio again, the day after
Lawyer Judson has explained for us the fine points of that batty will of
Pyramid's, I'm about as friendly and guileless as a dyspeptic customs
inspector preparin' to go through the trunks of a Fifth avenue
dressmaker. He comes in smilin' and chirky, though, slaps me chummy on
the shoulder, and remarks cordial:

"Well, my trusty coworker in well doing, I have come to report
progress."

"Shoot it, then," says I, settlin' back in my chair.

"You will be surprised," he goes on, "to learn who is first to benefit
by my vicarious philanthropy."

"Your which?" says I.

"Merely another simile for our glorious work," says he. "You couldn't
guess whose name was in that envelope,--Twombley-Crane's!"

"The Long Island plute?" says I. "You don't say! Why, when did Pyramid
ever get the best of him, I wonder?"

"I had almost forgotten the affair myself," says Steele. "It was more
than a dozen years ago, when Twombley-Crane was still actively
interested in the railroad game. He was president of the Q., L. & M.;
made a hobby of it, you know. Used to deliver flowery speeches to the
stockholders, and was fond of boasting that his road had never passed a
dividend. About that time Gordon was organizing the Water Level System.
He needed the Q., L. & M. as a connecting link. But Twombley-Crane would
listen to no scheme of consolidation. Rather an arrogant aristocrat,
Twombley-Crane, as perhaps you know?"

"Yes, he's a bit stiff in the neck," says I.

"He gave Gordon a flat no," goes on Steele. "H