ford had once observed when
looking across the great swamp, and now the mine he had sold to
Wallingford for a song was worth almost any sum that might be named.
Hen Moozer, when consulted, was of that opinion; Jim Ranger was of
that opinion; Bud Hegler was of that opinion; the other directors were
of that opinion; every one in Blakeville was of that opinion; so
Wallingford got his forty-five thousand dollars, and the Bubble Bank
held in return a mortgage on Wallingford's bank stock, and on forty
acres of genuine Etruscan black mud.

"By the way, Mr. Bubble," said Wallingford, tucking the bills of
exchange into his pocket, "I'm going to take a little run into New
York to-day. Would you mind putting the plans for my new house into
the hands of the two contractors here for them to figure on?"

"With pleasure. Hope you have a good trip, my boy."

* * * * *

Well, it was all over, but he was not quite so well satisfied as
he had been over the consummation of certain other dubious deals.
Heretofore he had hugely enjoyed the matching of his sharp wits
against duller ones, had been contemptuous of the people he
out-manoeuvered, had chuckled in huge content over his triumphs; but
in this case there was an obstacle to his perfect enjoyment, and that
obstacle was Fannie Bubble. He was rather impatient about it.

He started early for the train, instructing Bob Ranger to be there to
drive back the bays, and drove around by way of Jonas Bubble's house.
As he was about to hitch his horses the door opened, and Fannie,
dressed for the afternoon, but hatless, came flying out, her head bent
and her hands back over it. She was crying, and was closely pursued by
Mrs. Bubble, who brandished a feather duster, held by the feather end.
Wallingford ran to open the gate as Fannie approached it, closing it
and latching it in time to stop her stepmother.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"She's a lazy, good-for-nothing, frivolous huzzy!" declared Mrs.
Bubble in hot wrath.

"I've been looking for just that kind," asserted Wallingford. "She'll
do for me. Fannie, get into the buggy. I came down to take you for a
ride to the depot."

"If she goes away from this house she don't come back till she gets
down on her knees and begs my forgiveness!" shrieked the woman.

"If she does that I'll have her sent to a bugitorium," declared
Wallingford. "She don't need to come back here. I'll take care of her
myself. You'll