ly nothing, was a really valuable curiosity indeed. It
was pleasant to think upon, in a speculative way.

Another inspiring thought was the vision of Doc Turner and Ebenezer
Squinch and Tom Fester and Andy Grout and Jim Christmas, with plenty
of money to invest in a dubious enterprise. It seemed to be a call to
arms. It would be a noble and a commendable thing to spoil those
Egyptians; to smite them hip and thigh!

CHAPTER X

INTRODUCING A NOVEL MEANS OF EATING CAKE AND
HAVING IT TOO

Doc Turner and Ebenezer Squinch and Tom Fester, all doing business
on the second floor of the old Turner building, were thrown into a
fever of curiosity by the tall, healthy, jovial young man with the
great breadth of white-waistcoated chest, who had rented the front
suite of offices on their floor. His rooms he fitted up regardless
of expense, and he immediately hired an office-boy, a secretary
and two stenographers, all of whom were conspicuously idle. Doc
Turner, who had a long, thin nose with a bluish tip, as if it had
been case-tempered for boring purposes, was the first to scrape
acquaintance with the jovial young gentleman, but was chagrined to
find that though Mr. Wallingford was most democratic and easily
approachable, still he was most evasive about his business. Nor
could any of his office force be "pumped."

"The People's Mutual Bond and Loan Company" was the name which a sign
painter, after a few days, blocked out upon the glass doors, but the
mere name was only a whet to the aggravated appetites of the other
tenants. Turner and Fester and Squinch were in the latter's office,
discussing the mystery with some trace of irritation, when the source
of it walked in upon them.

"I'm glad to find you all together," said young Wallingford breezily,
coming at once to the point of his visit. "I understand that you
gentlemen were once a part of the directorate of a national building
and loan company which suspended business."

Ebenezer Squinch, taking the chair by virtue of his being already
seated with his long legs elevated upon his own desk, craned forward
his head upon an absurdly slender neck, which much resembled that of
a warty squash, placed the tips of his wrinkled fingers together and
gazed across them at Wallingford quite judicially.

"Suppose we were to admit that fact?" he queried, in non-committal
habit.

"I am informed that you had a membership of some nine hundred when you
suspended business," Walli