ain, Ranger, & Blakehill. He nodded to the
attendant at the door of Mountain's own suite of offices, strolled
tranquilly down the aisle between the several rows of desks at which sat
Mountain's personal clerks, and knocked at the glass door on which was
printed "Mr. Mountain" in small gilt letters.

"Come!" It was an angry voice--Mountain's at its worst.

Dayton opened the door. Mountain glanced up from a mass of papers before
him. His red forehead became a network of wrinkles and his scant white
eyebrows bristled. "And who are you?" he snarled.

"My name is Dayton--Fenimore Dayton," replied the reporter, with a
gracefully polite bow. "Mr. Mountain, I believe?"

It was impossible for Mr. Mountain altogether to resist the impulse to bow
in return. Dayton's manner was compelling.

"And what the dev--what can I do for you?"

"I'm a reporter from the ----"

"What!" roared Mountain, leaping to his feet in a purple, swollen veined
fury....

--David Graham Philips ("McClure's").

CAUGHT MASQUERADING

When I took my aunt and sister to the Pequot hotel, the night before the
Yale-Harvard boat race, I found a gang of Harvard boys there. They
celebrated a good deal that night, in the usual Harvard way.

Some of the Harvard men had a room next to mine. About three a.m. things
quieted down. When I woke up next morning, it was broad daylight, and I
was utterly alone. The race was to be at eleven o'clock. I jumped out of
bed and looked at my watch--it was nearly ten! I looked for my clothes. My
valise was gone! I rang the bell, but in the excitement downstairs, I
suppose, no one answered it.

What was I to do? Those Harvard friends of mine thought it a good joke on
me to steal my clothes and take themselves off to the race without waking
me up. I don't know what I should have done in my anguish, when, thank
goodness, I heard a tap at my door, and went to it.

"Well, do hurry!" (It was my sister's voice.) "Aunt won't go to the race;
we'll have to go without her."

"They've stolen my clothes, Mollie--those Harvard fellows."

"Haven't you anything?" she asked through the keyhole.

"Not a thing, dear."

"Oh, well! it's a just punishment to you after last night! That ---- noise
was dreadful!"

"Perhaps it is," I said, "but don't preach now, sister dear--get me
something to put on. I want to see the race."

"I haven't anything except some dresses and one of aunt's."

"Get me Aunt Sarah's black silk," I cried. "I