gford found a huge tin bath-tub, shaped like an
elongated coal scuttle, dingy white on the inside and dingy green on
the outside, and battered full of dents.

"How'd you get along?" asked Bob, pausing to wipe the perspiration
from his brow after he had emptied the two pails of water into the
tub.

"All right," said Wallingford with a reminiscent smile.

"Old Mrs. Bubble drive you off the place?"

"No," replied Wallingford loftily. "I went in the house and talked a
while."

"Go on!" exclaimed Bob, the glow of admiration almost shining through
his skin. "Say, you're a peach, all right! How do you like Fannie?"

"She's a very nice girl," opined Wallingford.

"Yes," agreed Bob. "She's getting a little old, though. She was
twenty her last birthday. She'll be an old maid pretty soon, but it's
her own fault."

Then Bob went after more water, and Wallingford, seating himself at
the table with paper and pencil, plunged into a succession of rambling
figures concerning Jonas Bubble's black swamp; and he figured and
puzzled far into the night, with the piquant face of Miss Fannie
drifting here and there among the figures.

CHAPTER XIX

WHEREIN BLAKEVILLE HAS OPPORTUNITY TO BECOME
A GREAT ART CENTER

The next morning Wallingford requisitioned the services of Bob and the
little sorrel team again, and drove out to Jonas Bubble's swamp.
Arrived there he climbed the fence, and, taking a sliver of fence rail
with him, gravely prodded into the edge of the swamp in various
places, hauling it up in each case dripping with viscid black mud,
which he examined with the most minute care, dropping tiny drops upon
the backs of clean cards and spreading them out smoothly with the tip
of his finger, while he looked up into the sky inquiringly, not one
gesture of his conduct lost upon the curious Bob.

When he climbed back into the buggy, Bob, finding it impossible longer
to restrain his quivering curiosity, asked him:

"What's it good for?"

"I can't tell you just yet," said Wallingford kindly, "but if it is
what I think it is, Bob, I've made a great discovery, one that I am
sure will not only increase my wealth but add greatly to the riches of
Blakeville. Do you know where I could find Jonas Bubble at this hour?"

"Down at the mill, sure."

"Drive down there."

As they drove past Jonas Bubble's house they saw Miss Fannie on the
back porch, in an old wrapper, peeling potatoes, and heard the sharp
voice of the secon