or Stanley's hunt, but Bobby was glad when it
was over. In the big, lonely house he sat in the study for an hour
before he went to bed, looking abstractedly up at the picture of old
John Burnit and worrying over this new development. It cut him to the
quick, not so much that he had been made a fool of by "clever"
real-estate men, had been led, imbecile-like, to pay an extra hundred
dollars per acre for that swamp land, but that the advantage had gone
to Silas Trimmer.

Moreover, why had Silas put a prohibitive valuation upon that north
eight acres? Why did he want to keep it? It must be because Silas
really expected that his tract would be drained free of charge, and
that he would thus have the triumph of selling it for an approximate
six thousand dollars an acre in the form of building lots. In the face
of such a conclusion, the thought of the cement wall that he had
ordered built was a great satisfaction.

It was a remarkably open winter that followed, and outdoor operations
could thereby go on uninterrupted. In the office, the pompous
Applerod, in his frock-coat and silk hat, ground Johnson's soul to
gall dust; for he had taken to saying "_Mr._ Johnson" most formally,
and issuing directions with maddening politeness and consideration. An
arrangement had been effected with Applerod, whereby that gentleman,
for having suggested the golden opportunity, was to reap the entire
benefit of the improvement on his own twenty acres, Bobby financing
the whole deal and charging Applerod's share of it against his
account. Applerod stood thereby to gain about seventy-six thousand
dollars over and above the price he had paid for his twenty acres;
and, moreover, _Bobby had decided to call the improved tract the
Applerod Addition_! When that name began to appear in print, coupled
with flaming advertisements of Applerod's devising, there was grave
danger of the rosy-cheeked old gentleman's losing every button from
every fancy vest in his possession.

In the meantime, thoroughly in love with the vast enterprise which he
had projected, Bobby spent his time outdoors, fascinated, unable to
find any peace elsewhere than upon his Titanic labor. His evenings he
spent in such social affairs as he could not avoid; with Agnes
Elliston; with Biff Bates; in an occasional game of billiards at the
Idlers'; but his days, from early morning until the evening whistle,
he spent amid the clang of pick and shovel, the rattling of the trams,
the creak