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"But I told him that you was just as fine a lady and just as particular as his missus."-Page 717.

they did not care to explain themselves to any one-which was different. So they kept on hoping each day that their millionaire tenant would remember and send a check without being reminded. In short, the Carrolls spent horse-show week at the Parkers' expensive boarding-house, taking exercise only at night under cover of darkness, so as to avoid meeting their friends. "My! See, what an electric-light bill we are going to have this month," Fred would say

as they stealthily passed the gayly lighted house which belonged to them and whence issued music and laughter. But Molly would not look. She only sighed and passed by in silence to the dreary boardinghouse.

IV

LAURA proved so useful to the steward that she was retained throughout the week. "De ole man, he's mighty pleased with our

house," she reported to Molly, "so nice and cozy he says. He asked de ladies how much did Charlie pay for it. Dat's de secretary. Dey didn't know, so he asked de steward, and de steward he say, 'Two hundred, I believe, suh.' 'A day?' asked de ole man. 'No, suh, for de whole week.' 'Dat's a shame!' he says, sort o' cross. 'I must speak to Charlie about dis.' So, I spect we'll get more 'n any ole two hundred dollars, when it do come!"

"Indeed!" said Molly. "The vulgar old beast! We wouldn't think of accepting more than the stipulated amount, would we, Fred?"

"Of course not," said Fred meditatively. "Though I am bound to say," she added, "their unbusinesslike negligence has cost us much more than two hundred.”

"I haven't earned a cent since we began cleaning house for them," sighed Fred.

"Besides, there's all the vexation and annoyance," said Molly thoughtfully. "But if the pigs try to make us accept a cent more than two hundred," she added quickly, "we'll send it straight back." A pause. "Won't we, dear?"

“Of course," said Fred. Another pause. "I wonder how large an amount the pigs will try to make us accept."

They talked about this a good deal having so little else to do. They decided that the check would be left for them in the house. Molly wondered in what part of the house. "Perhaps on the bureau, like a tip," suggested Fred.

At last the dreary week was finished, and the Carrolls, restraining each other on the Parkers' porch until the last trunk had left, ran across the meadow, hand in hand to their beloved home, their very own again.

"This makes it almost worth while," cried Molly rushing into the house, and picking up one after another of her precious possessions, fondling them like long-lost children, talking to them, asking them if they had missed her. In justice to the pigs it must be stated that they had left their temporary sty in very good shape. Even Molly admitted that, grudgingly. None of the ancestral Spode was broken. But presently her husband heard a cry of alarm. "Fred, Fred! I can't find the marble salt-holder!"

studio, "I may as well tell you that my grandfather's portfolio is gone!" It was wonderfully colored, that piece of old leather.

They stared into each other's eyes.

"We ought to have known better than to leave such valuable things about," said Fred.

"Let's telegraph," said Molly.

Just then Laura, having heard the alarm, waddled in impressively. "Now, Miss Molly," she said sententiously, "don't you get so excited," and with that crossed the room with dramatic deliberation. "I reckon you all didn't look behind de book-case," she said chuckling, and quietly produced the missing idols.

"Oh, Laura!" cried Molly gratefully, "how good of you to hide them for us."

"Bless you heart, Honey, I didn't hide 'em. De steward he put 'em out o' sight because dey was too old and shabby for his people, he says. Mrs. Sterling is a mos' particular lady."

The Carrolls looked at each other a moment in silence, then Fred's eyes began to twinkle, then he smiled, then he laughed, then he roared. Molly, after a moment's hesitation, joined him, and the longer they thought about it, the more they laughed.

"And dose ole-timey goblets you all brought from de city? Dey was given to de servants' table," said Laura.

Presently Fred began to laugh afresh and directed Molly's attention to the mantel-piece. There stood the new pair of old candlesticks, the ones whose rich old color had led them to the extravagance of the purchase. They were now as bright and shining as the brass-work on the Sterlings' yacht. The tone of time had gone.

"Well, it serves us right," said Fred, "for renting our house to such people."

"By the way," cried Molly, "the check!"

"That's so," he answered springing up, "the check!" and off they sped to search for it, like a pair of children. They had forgotten all about the check.

"Look in your studio!" called Molly who was looking upon her desk in the living room. "That's your place of business, you know."

But it wasn't there, nor in the hall, nor upstairs on any of the bureaus. At last they looked on the mantel-piece in the din"Well," said Fred coming out of the ing-room, and found not a check, but someVOL. XLV.-79

thing that Molly had never seen in her sacred home before-a wineglassful of toothpicks.

Then they had another good laugh and life began again where they had left off before the coming of the enemy.

V

Ir was not until after the first of the following month that they received their check. Fred passed it in silence over to Molly.

"Why it's only two hundred after all!" she cried in dismay.

"Well," said Fred whimsically, "that saves us the trouble of returning the balance. So you needn't look so disappointed," he added.

"I'm only disappointed in 'de ole man,'" she said.

Then they caught each other's glance, and blushed and laughed at themselves and thought this was the end of it. But it wasn't.

The old man was a very busy financier, and had forgotten to speak to Charlie. But the very next week he remembered how much he liked that little house he had occupied during the horse show; was reminded of it by the ladies of the family, for they liked it too. Such being the case the Sterlings decided to buy it. They had no house, as it happened, in just that part of the world, and they might want to build a place out there. Meanwhile, and in any case, this little house, they agreed amicably, would do perfectly well. It would be convenient for the horse-show week, or if they ever wanted to go out and play golf there.

So Fred received another call from the

brisk young secretary. Charlie stated in a polite business-like manner that Mr. Sterling was prepared to make an advantageous offer for the property, if it could be done quietly and without delay-and if Mr. Carroll didn't ask too much for it.

"Indeed?" said Fred, not a little amused, "I was not aware that this house was in the market."

"But it will do no harm to make you an offer just in private," said the smiling little secretary. "You would not mind?"

"Not in the least," said Fred. "I'm sure it will be interesting, but I do not care to sell."

"I understand, Mr. Carroll, I understand," said Charlie, thinking he did.

The secretary understood, through the steward who understood through Laura, something about the Carrolls' predicament during horse-show week. Other inquiries had confirmed his original surmise, made when they asked only two hundred dollars rent for the week. It was clear that they were hard up, and it was shrewd to go direct to the unpractical artist, instead of dealing through a real-estate agent. For, however covertly and indirectly such approaches were made, the news often leaked out that Charles F. Sterling was the prospective buyer and straightway prices soared annoyingly.

"I am authorized," said the secretary, his beady little mouselike eyes now fastening themselves on Carroll's face, "to offer you the sum of twenty thousand dollars cash for your property."

A smile flittered about the corners of Fred's mouth. He, too, was disappointed in "de ole man." This was not a liberal offer, but he did not like to tell the secretary so; it might hurt his feelings. "You are most kind," said Fred, "but-well, I don't care to sell any way."

Evidently this artist was no fool; perhaps he, too, saw the real-estate future of the neighborhood. "Mr. Carroll," said Charlie urbanely, "usually these affairs are long drawn out. I am obliged to settle this matter at once and take the return train for the city." He glanced at his watch, “I am very busy to-day."

"I can sympathize with you," said Fred thinking of the canvases he was preparing for his exhibition next month on Fifth Avenue.

"Mr. Sterling told me that in order to close the deal at once I might give you twentyfive thousand dollars for your property.”

"Did he, indeed!" said Fred, "that was very generous of him, but it's out of the question."

"It's five thousand more than the place cost," said the secretary in his businesslike manner.

Fred resented this. "You are mistaken," he rejoined, "it is nearly six thousand more than it cost." This was merely to show that he, too, could be businesslike, when he tried. "But you see the great trouble is that I don't care to sell."

Charlie now regretted that he had not put the matter in the hands of an agent after all. But he had been told to get the house, and get it he would, or else receive a scowl of disapproval on his return to the office. A few minutes later he was offering Fred thirty thousand for the property, then thirty-three and, finally, "just to make it an even sum and close the deal" Fred was obliged to refuse thirty-five thousand of Charles F. Sterling's hard-earned cash. "I cannot tell you how flattered I am," he said, now drawing an exquisite amusement out of the situation, "to find my humble home so greatly admired by one of Mr. Sterling's means and taste. Frankly, I had no idea that it could appeal to him so keenly, but—”

"You'll never get such an offer again," interrupted Charlie.

"I hope not," said Fred, "and I hope you'll soon stop this bidding up of the price. It may be businesslike, but it makes me dizzy."

"That is my limit," said the secretary rising to go.

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'Good," said Fred in sincere relief.

"I won't offer you a cent more," snapped out the other somewhat angry at Fred's flippancy.

"I am so glad," said Fred.

'I haven't any."

"Do you want to sell or not?" demanded the secretary impatiently.

"Not in the least," laughed Fred. "I said so in the first place, you know." Charlie picked up his hat. "I thought you were bluffing."

"That was your mistake. But in order that you may not make another one, just tell Mr. Sterling with my compliments that he hasn't money enough to buy this place."

"Why not?" asked the other, laughing at the artist.

"Because," said Fred, "he couldn't possibly appreciate my house."

VI

Ar the exhibition of landscapes by Frederick Carroll, the following month, twothirds of the canvases were snapped up during the first day of the sale. This made such a sensation that the rest sold quickly, like hot cakes. "Frederick Carroll, the former illustrator, has undoubtedly arrived," wrote a well-known critic. Most of the canvases referred to were crated to the town address of Charles F. Sterling.

"And yet," said Fred swaggeringly to

"Oh, come! " cried the exasperated sec- Molly, "some people say painters aren't

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