t if we have
to mace him, at noon, on Madison Square."

In the meantime J. Rufus was chuckling himself to sleep. He rose at
eleven, breakfasted at one, and was dressing and planning to besiege
New York upon his own account, when the telephone advised him that Mr.
Phelps was down-stairs with a parched throat, and on the way up to get
a drink!

"Fine business!" exclaimed J. Rufus with a cordiality which had
nothing whatever to do with the puzzled expression on his brow.
"What'll you have? I'll order it while you're on your way up."

"Nothing stronger than a Scotch highball," was the reply, whereupon
young Wallingford, as soon as the telephone was clear, ordered the
materials therefor.

"Fine business," he repeated to himself musingly as he stood with his
hand still on the receiver after he had hung it up; "also rough work.
This thirst is too sudden."

He was still most thoughtful when Mr. Phelps knocked at the door, and
had yet more food for contemplation when the caller began talking with
great enthusiasm about his thirst, explaining the height and breadth
and thickness thereof, its atomic weight, its color and the excellent
style of its finish.

"If I just had that thirst outside of me where I could get at it, I
could make an airship of it," he imaginatively concluded.

"Gas or hot air?" inquired young Mr. Wallingford, entirely unmoved, as
he poured the highballs and dosed both quite liberally with the
Scotch, whereat Mr. Phelps almost visibly winced, though gamely
planning to drink with every appearance of enjoyment.

"Where's Daw?" he asked, after two sips which he tried to make seem
like gulps.

"Gone out to a print-shop to locate a couple of gold mines," announced
Wallingford dryly, holding his own opinion as to the folly of Mr.
Daw's methods. They were so unsanctioned of law.

"Sorry for that," said Mr. Phelps, who was nevertheless relieved to
hear it, for Mr. Daw was rather in the way. "We've got a great game
on; a Reuben right from Reubensville, with five thousand of pa's
money in his jeans. I wanted you fellows to come and look him over."

"What's the use?" returned Wallingford. "Come down to the lobby and
I'll show you a whole procession of them."

"No, but they're not so liberal as this boy," protested Phelps
laughing. "He just naturally hones and hones and hones to hand us this
nice little bundle of kale, and we're going to accommodate him. You
can get in on the split-up if you want to. Daw wo