ake dinner on the train; so I'll just say good-by
to you now."

He shook hands with her and stooped down, and they kissed each other
dutifully upon the cheek. Mrs. Wix, being advanced, did not believe
in kissing upon the mouth. After he had gone, a fleeting impression
of loneliness weighed upon her as much as any purely sentimental
consideration could weigh. She looked thoughtfully at the closed door,
and a stirring of the slight maternal instinct within her made her
vaguely wistful. She turned, still with that faint tugging within her
breast which she could not understand, and it was purely mechanical
that her eyes, dropping to the surface of the paper, caught the
sentence: "Mental suggestion, unfit for growing minds, is upon every
page." The word "Mental" seemed redundant, and she drew her pen
through it, neatly changing the "s" in "suggestion" to a capital.

A cab drove past Wix as he started down the street and he saw Smalley
in it. He turned curiously. What was Smalley doing there? He stopped
until he saw the cab draw up in front of Gilman's house. He saw
Smalley assist young Gilman out of the cab, and Gilman's mother run
out to meet them. He was thoughtful for a moment over that, then he
shrugged his shoulders and strode on.

On the train that night as he swaggered into the dining-car, owning
it, in effect, and all it contained, he saw, seated alone at a far
table, no less a person than Horace G. Daw, as black and as natty as
ever, and with a mustache grown long enough to curl a little bit at
the ends.

"Hello, old pal," greeted Daw. "Where now?"

"I'm going out alone into the cold, cold world, to make fortunes and
spend them."

"Half of that stunt is a good game," commented Mr. Daw.

Wix chuckled.

"Both ends of it look good to me," he stated. "I've found the recipe
for doing it, and it was you that tipped off the plan."

"I certainly am the grand little tipper-off," agreed Daw, going back
in memory over their last meeting. "You got to that three thousand,
did you?"

"Oh, no," said Wix. "I only used it to get a little more. Our friend
Gilman has his all back again. Of course, I didn't use your plan as it
laid. It was too raw, but it gave me the suggestion from which I doped
out one of my own. I've got to improve my system a little, though. My
rake-off's too small. In the wind-up I handled twenty-one thousand
dollars, and only got away with eight thousand-odd of it for myself."

"You haven't it all