and right after that I held four kings
against an ace full. Say, one time there I was about two-eighty to the
good, but I didn't have enough sense to quit. Hear about Gus Giddings?
They got him over in the coop for breaking in on a social out at the Oak
Grove schoolhouse last night. Say, he had a peach on when he left here,
I'll tell the world! But he didn't get far. Them Grove lads certainly
made a believer out of him. You ought to see that left eye of his!"

Merton listened loftily to this village talk, gossip of a rural sport
who got a peach on and started something--And the poker game in the back
room of the City Drug Store! What diversions were these for one who had
a future? Let these clods live out their dull lives in their own way.
But not Merton Gill, who held aloof from their low sports, studied
faithfully the lessons in his film-acting course, and patiently bided
his time.

He presently sauntered to the post office, where the mail was being
distributed. Here he found the sight-seers who had returned from the
treat of No. 4's flight, and many of the less enterprising citizens who
had merely come down for their mail. Gashwiler was among these, smoking
one of his choice cigars. He was not allowed to smoke in the house.
Merton, knowing this prohibition, strictly enforced by Mrs. Gashwiler,
threw his employer a glance of honest pity. Briefly he permitted
himself a vision of his own future home--a palatial bungalow in distant
Hollywood, with expensive cigars in elaborate humidors and costly
gold-tipped cigarettes in silver things on low tables. One might smoke
freely there in every room.

Under more of the Elmer Huff sort of gossip, and the rhythmic clump of
the cancelling stamp back of the drawers and boxes, he allowed himself a
further glimpse of this luxurious interior. He sat on a low couch, among
soft cushions, a magnificent bearskin rug beneath his feet. He smoked
one of the costly cigarettes and chatted with a young lady interviewer
from Photo Land.

"You ask of my wife," he was saying. "But she is more than a wife--she
is my best pal, and, I may add, she is also my severest critic."

He broke off here, for an obsequious Japanese butler entered with a
tray of cooling drinks. The tray would be gleaming silver, but he
was uncertain about the drinks; something with long straws in them,
probably. But as to anything alcoholic, now--While he was trying to
determine this the general-delivery window was opened