looked him over.

"'Y gory, boys, you'd be surprised the way that Household Horse has hit
the trade. Orders coming in from automobile makers, and last week we
decided to give up making the little power saver and make the whole rear
axle. We're going to call it the Morton-Perry Axle, and put in a big
plant, and I was telling Ruthy this morning, I says, 'Ruth,' says I, 'if
we make the axle business go, I'll just telephone down to Wright & Perry
and have them send you out something nobby in husbands, and, 'y gory, a
nice thousand-mile wedding trip and maybe your pa will go along for
company--what say?'"

He was an odd figure in his clothes--for they were ready-made--made for
the figure of youth, and although he had been in them but a few hours,
the padding was bulging at the wrong places; and they were wrinkled
where they should be tight. His bony old figure stuck out at the knees,
and the shoulders and elbows, and the high collar would not fit his
skinny neck. But he was happy, and fancied he looked like the pictures
of college boys in the back of magazines. So he answered Mr.
Brotherton's question about the opinion of the younger daughter as to
the clothes by a profound wink.

"Scared--scared plumb stiff--what say? I caught Marthy nodding at Ruth
and Ruthy looking hard at Marthy, and then both of 'em went to the
kitchen to talk over calling up Emmy and putting out fly poison for the
women that are lying in wait for their pa. Scared--why, scared's no name
for it--what say?"

"Well, Captain," answered Mr. Brotherton, "you are certainly voluptuous
enough in your new stage setting to have your picture on a cigar box as
a Cuban beauty or a Spanish senorita."

The Captain was turning about, trying to see how the coat set in the
back and at the same time watching the hang of the trousers. Evidently
he was satisfied with it. For he said: "Well--guess I'll be going. I'll
just mosey down to Mrs. Herdicker's to give Emmy and Marthy and Ruthy
something to keep 'em from thinking of their real troubles--eh?" And
with a flourish he was gone.

When Grant's order was filled, he said, "Violet will call for this,
George; I have some other matters to attend to."

As he assembled the goods for the order, Mr. Brotherton called out,
"Well, how is Violet, anyway?" Grant smiled. "Violet is doing well. She
is blooming over again, and when she found herself before a
typewriter--it really seemed to take the curve out of her back. Henry
de