he storm and all that followed, including himself
in certain judiciously preserved scenes, and the whole production could
have been made at practically no cost at all. There never had been
such an opportunity, complained Mr. Shine the moment he felt absolutely
certain that the opportunity was a thing of the past.

"No wonder he got away with it," said Mr. Landover to a group of
rejuvenated satellites. "He is hand in glove with them, that fellow is.
I wouldn't trust him around the corner. Why, it's perfectly plain to
anybody with a grain of intelligence that he's the leader of that gang
of anarchists. All he had to do was to speak to them,--in their own
language, mind you,--and back they slunk to their quarters. They obeyed
him because he is their chosen leader, and that's all there is to
this--What say, Fitts?"

Mr. Fitts, who was not a satellite but a very irritating Christian
gentleman, cleared his throat and said:

"I didn't speak, Mr. Landover. I always make a noise like that when I
yawn. It's an awfully middle-class habit I've gotten into. Still, don't
you think one obtains a little more--shall we say enjoyment?--a little
more enjoyment out of a yawn if he lets go and puts his whole soul into
it? Of course, it isn't really necessary to utter the 'hi-ho-hum!' quite
so vociferously as I do,--in fact, it might even be better to omit it
altogether,--if possible,--when some one else is speaking. There are, I
grant you, other ways of expressing one's complete mastery of the art
of yawning, such as a prolonged but audible sigh, or a sort of muffled
howl, or even a series of blissful little shrieks peculiar to the
feminine of the species,--any one of these, I admit, is a trifle more
elegant and up-to-date, but they all lack the splendid resonance,--you
might even say grandiloquence,--of the old-fashioned 'hi-ho-hum!' to
which I am addicted. Now, if you will consider--"

"My God!" exclaimed the banker, with a positively venomous emphasis on
the name of the Deity. "Who wants to know anything about yawns?"

Mr. Fitts looked hurt. "I am sorry. My mistake. I thought you were
trying to change the subject when you interrupted my yawn."

"That fellow's a damn' fool," said the banker, as Fitts strolled off to
join another group.

"Try one of these cigars, Mr. Landover," said Mr. Nicklestick
persuasively. "Of course, they're nothing like the kind you smoke,
but--"

"Is mine out? So it is. No, thank you. I'll take a match, h