fe of
George Ramsey, at whose frown the great gods sit tight and the little
ones scuttle to cover. Luckily, he is a kindly disposed arbiter and the
Street basks under his smile."

The Chicagoan turned and looked at the lady curiously, and the reporter
went on: "The fair-haired lady with the wild-rose face is old Gordon
Kimball's daughter; born with a diamond teething ring in her mouth, but
has never succeeded in getting anything else of value inside her pretty
head."

"Well, she doesn't have to," said the Westerner.

Young Bedford grinned. "That's what Dr. Earl thinks; he can furnish
brains for the family. Their engagement was reported two months ago. The
man with them is Earl's brother, Frank Earl, corporation lawyer, amateur
actor, one of those guys that does everything well, and never gives away
his own hand. Go after him for a story about some combination his road
has gone into and you come away with a great spiel about bumper crops;
always gives you the glad hand, but nothing in it. You'd never take him
for Mrs. Ramsey's brother, would you? She's a looker, all right. So is
Dr. Earl, one of these big, handsome, powerful-looking men that makes
folks ask who he is."

"What's all the hullabaloo about, anyhow?" asked the Chicago man.

"Where have you been that you don't know about Earl?" answered Bedford.
"Why, I thought everybody in the country had heard of him. He's the chap
that raises the dead, you know; just takes 'em by the hand, makes a few
passes, and says, 'Say, it's time to wake up, old fellow,' and the dead
one sits up and asks for beefsteak. He's the man that saved Hall, the
copper mines king, over in Paris. Hall was finished, all done but
putting him in a box, when in comes Dr. Earl. 'Let him alone,' he says.
'He's tired out. When he finishes this nap he'll be just as good as
new.' But you know how impetuous the French are, and they were going to
have poor old Hall done for, sure enough, when this Earl man stands them
off, and promises to bring Hall 'round in six hours. And he does it
after the whole bunch of them have parleyed over him and waved
looking-glasses across his mouth, and found him as dead as Rameses."

There was a general buzz among the newspaper men, and one of them, older
and more dignified in manner than the others, said quietly, "Bedford,
you ought not to hand out that kind of fiction, even in your unreliable
journal."

Bedford winked slyly at the Chicagoan. "It was my only hope," h