st. I'm not
a city-bred theorist, nor a Wall Street stock manipulator. I was born
in a one-story log house on a Minnesota farm, and when I was a boy we
hauled our corn and potatoes thirty miles to a river steamboat. Then
the railroad came through. Now my brothers sack their crops almost
within sight of a grain elevator. They live in comfortable houses,
send their children to good schools. So do their neighbors. The
railroad has turned a wilderness into a civilized community. On a
smaller scale here is a like opportunity. If you will let us have that
fifty-foot strip----"

"Na, Mon, not an inch!" breaks in Ross.

How he could stick to it against that smooth line of talk I couldn't
see. Why, say, it was the most convincin', heart-throbby stuff I'd
ever listened to, and if it had been me I'd made Percey J. a present of
the whole shootin' match.

"But see here, Mr. Ross," goes on Sturgis, "I would like to show you
just what we----"

"Daddy! Daddy!" comes a pipin' hail from somewhere inside, and out
dances a barefooted youngster in a faded blue and white dress. It's
the little heroine of the lost nickel. For a second she gawps at us
sort of scared, and almost decides to scuttle back into the house.
Then she gets another look at Percey J., smiles shy, and sticks one
finger in her mouth. Percey he smiles back encouragin' and holds out a
big, friendly hand. That wins her.

"Oh, Daddy!" says she, puttin' her little fist in Percey's
confidential. "It's the mans what gimme the candy in the pitty box!"

As for Daddy Ross, he stares like he couldn't believe his eyes. But
there's the youngster cuddled up against Percey J.'s knee and glancin'
up at him admirin'.

"Is ut so, Mon?" demands Ross husky, "Was it you give the lass the
sweeties?"

"Why, yes," admitted Sturgis.

"Then you shall be knowin'," goes on Ross, "that yon lassie is all I
have left in the world that I care a bawbee for. You've done it, Mon.
Tak' as much of the farm as you like at your own price."

Well, that's the way Percey J. Sturgis won out. A lucky stroke, eh?
Take it from me, there was more'n that in it. Hardly a word he says
durin' the run back; for he's as quiet and easy when he's on top as
when he's the under dog. We shakes hands friendly as he drops me
uptown long after dark.

I had all night to think it over; but when I starts for Old Hickory's
office next mornin' I hadn't doped out how I was goin' to put it.

"Well, wha