Judge stepped past him. "That's all right, Henry. Stay where you
are. I'm just going to telephone Rowland.... Hello: Mayor's office,
please--" He motioned to his son-in-law. "Make yourself comfortable--I
shouldn't wonder a bit if these blue-laws weren't going to get just a
little bit--bleached."

* * * * *

On his delirious way to the Orpheum, he stopped in to see Bob
Standish, not to share the joke with him, for Judge Barklay had laid
great stress on the closest secrecy, but in answer to a recent
message asking him to call.

"What's the excitement, Bob?"

His friend regarded him with the innocent stare which had made his
fortune. "Remember I spoke to you some time ago about renting that
space over the Orpheum?"

"The nursery? Yes."

"Well, it's come up again. Different party, this time. Of course he
hasn't seen it yet, but it's a chap who wants about that much
space--might want to enlarge it a little, but we'd arrange that; he'd
do it at his own expense--and he'd pay fifteen hundred a year."

Henry deliberated. "It's so near the finish.... I don't much care one
way or the other. Who's the party?"

"Bird named McClellan."

"I don't know him; do I?"

"I don't know why you should; never met him before, myself. Well, do
you want to trade?"

"I don't much care what I do."

Standish surveyed him closely. "You're very peppy this morning, seems
to me."

"I've got an excuse to be."

"For publication?"

"Not yet. You'll see it soon enough."

Standish's eyes dropped back to his desk. "Well, let's get this lease
question off our chests. If you'll let me handle it for you, I'll
guarantee you'll be satisfied."

"Would you do it if you were in my shoes?"

"Absolutely--provided you were in mine."

Henry laughed. "Well, Mr. Bones, what _is_ the answer?"

"Why--this _may_ do you some good. That is, if you let me manage it
for you. But suppose it's immaterial. Suppose you run out your string,
and win or lose, you know what's on the docket for you, don't you? If
you want it?"

"I haven't thought that far ahead. I've had one or two things put up
to me."

"Forget 'em." Standish pointed at the wall. "Nice new mahogany
flat-topped desk right there."

Henry's mouth relaxed. "Why--_Bob_."

As Standish gazed at him, no observer would have said that this
immature-looking boy was rated in the highest group of local
businessmen. To a stranger, the offer might have seemed