ence though, and call it twelve and a half. But it don't
cost you a cent. It's yours because you wanted it, that's all; and maybe
the one that sent it is glad you've got it. That's as far as I can go."

"But see here, McCabe!" he insists. "Delighted as I am, I must know who
it is that----"

Just here the front office door opens, and in walks J. Bayard. For a
second he don't notice Twombley-Crane, who's standin' between me and the
window.

"Oh, I say!" says Steele, sort of breathless and hasty. "Have you sent
that away yet?"

A freak hunch hit me and I couldn't shake it: I guess I wanted to see
what would happen. So I nudges Twombley-Crane.

"Here's the party now, if you must know," says I. "This is Mr. J. Bayard
Steele."

"Eh?" says he, steppin' forward. "Steele, did you say? Why, my dear Sir,
although I must admit that I am stupid enough not to remember you, I
must express my most----"

Say, he did it handsome too. He grabs J. Bayard brotherly by the mitt,
and passes him an enthusiastic vote of thanks that don't leave out a
single detail. Yes, he sure did unload the gratitude; with J. Bayard
standin' there, turnin' first one color and then another, and not bein'
able to get out a word.

"And surely, my dear Sir," he winds up, "you will allow me to recompense
you in some way?"

Steele shakes his head. "It's not precisely," he begins, "as if
I--er----"

"Ah-h-h!" says Twombley-Crane, beamin' friendly. "I think I see. You had
heard of my collection."

J. Bayard nods.

"And you conceived the idea," goes on Twombley-Crane, "of completing it
in this anonymous and kindly manner? Believe me, Sir, I am touched,
deeply touched. It is indeed good to know that such generous impulses
are felt, that they are sometimes acted upon. I must try to be worthy of
such a splendid spirit. I will have this hung at once, and to-morrow
night, Friend Steele, you must come to see it; at my country place, you
know. We dine at seven. I shall expect you, Sir." And with a final
brotherly grip he goes out.

"Well," says I to J. Bayard, "that's over, ain't it? You've put across
the genuine article. How does it feel?"

He brushes his hand over his eyes sort of dazed. "Really," says he,
"I--I don't know. I was coming, as a matter of fact, to take the sketch
back. The more I thought it over, the worse I---- But he was pleased,
wasn't he? And Twombley-Crane too! I would not have believed that he
could act so decently."

"Well, he beli