e Hanging Gardens, and there was something
else Klinger told me about Mrs. Lubliner and the old lady talking about
brown stewed fish sweet and----"

At this juncture Scharley snapped his fingers excitedly.

"Brown stewed fish sweet and sour!" he almost shouted. "I ain't smelled
it since I was a boy already."

He wagged his head and again murmured, "M-m-m-m-m!"

Suddenly he received an inspiration.

"How much did you say them shanties rents for, Mr. Williams?" he said.

"Twenty dollars a month," Williams replied.

"You don't tell me!" Scharley exclaimed solemnly. "I wonder if I could
give a look at the inside of one of 'em--this one here, for instance."

"I don't think there'd be any objection," Williams said, and no sooner
were the words out of his mouth than Scharley started off on a half trot
for the miniature veranda on the ocean side of the little house.

"Perhaps I'd better inquire first if it's convenient for them to let us
in now," Williams said, as he bounded after his prospective customer and
knocked gently on the doorjamb. There was a sound of scurrying feet
within, and at length the door was opened a few inches and the bewigged
head of Mrs. Lesengeld appeared in the crack.

"_Nu_," she said, "what _is_ it?"

"I represent the Bognor Park Company," Williams replied, "and if it's
perfectly convenient for you, Mrs.----"

"Lesengeld," she added.

"Used to was Lesengeld & Schein in the pants business?" Scharley asked,
and Mrs. Lesengeld nodded.

"Why, Lesengeld and me was lodge brothers together in the I. O. M. A.
before I went out to the Pacific Coast years ago already," Scharley
declared. "I guess he's often spoken to you about Jake Scharley, ain't
it?"

"Maybe he did, Mr. Scharley, _aber_ he's dead _schon_ two years since
already," Mrs. Lesengeld said, and then added the pious hope, "_olav
hasholom_."

"You don't say so," Scharley cried in shocked accents. "Why, he wasn't
no older as me already."

"Fifty-three when he died," Mrs. Lesengeld said. "Quick diabetes, Mr.
Scharley. Wouldn't you step inside?"

Scharley and Williams passed into the front room, which was used as a
living room and presented an appearance of remarkable neatness and
order. In the corner stood an oil stove on which two saucepans bubbled
and steamed, and as Mrs. Lesengeld turned to follow her visitors one of
the saucepans boiled over.

"Oo-ee!" she exclaimed. "_Mein fisch._"

"Go ahead and tend to it," Scharley cried