live in my house, sir," said the senator, "as a member of my
family, sir."

"God bless you, sir!" cried Aladdin.

In a state of dancing glee he darted off to the "Spy" office to see his
chief.

Mr. Blankinship was leaning against the post of the street door, reading
his own editorial in the morning issue.

"Hallo, Mr. Blankinship!" cried Aladdin.

"Hallo, Aladdin!" cried Mr. Blankinship, grinning at his favorite. "Late
as usual."

"And for the last time, sir."

"I know of only one good reason for such a statement."

"It's it, sir!"

Mr. Blankinship folded his paper carefully. His eyes were red, for he
had been up late the night before.

"I'd go, too," he said simply, "if it wasn't for the mother."

The firm of John St. John & Brothers sat in its office. The head of
the firm was gorgeous in a new uniform; he had hurried up from New York
(where he had been paying vigorous court to Ellen Manners, whom he had
made up his mind to marry) in order, as oldest, biggest, and strongest,
to enlist for the family in one of the home regiments. There lingered
on his lips the thrill of a kiss half stolen, half yielded, while in his
pockets were a number of telegrams since received, and the usually grave
and stern young man was jocular and bantering. The two younger members
of the firm were correspondingly savage.

"For God's sake, clear out of here," said Hamilton. "Your shingle's
down. Bul and I are running this office now."

"Well, it's the chance of your lives, boys," said the frisky colonel.
"I'll have forgotten the law by the time I come back."

"Hope you may choke, John," said Hannibal, sweetly.

"Don't allow smoking in here, do you, boys?" He got no answer. It was a
hard-and-fast rule which he himself had instituted.

"Well, here goes." He lighted a huge cigar and puffed it insolently
about the office. He surveyed himself in the cracked mirror.

"Cursed if a uniform isn't becoming to a man!" he said.

"Chicken!" said Hamilton.

"Puppy!" said Hannibal.

"Titmouse!" said Hamilton.

"Ant!" said Hannibal.

John's grin widened.

"Boys," he said, "you've got one swell looker in the family, anyway, and
you ought to be glad of that."

The boys exchanged glances.

Hannibal had upon his desk a pen-wiper which consisted of a small sponge
heavy with the ink of wiped pens. Hamilton had beneath his desk an
odd rubber boot which served him as a scrap-basket. These ornamental
missiles took John St. John in th