e puddle. If your cousin thinks it's necessary to tell
other Boston folks, I presume he will, but WE won't tell anybody but
him."

Galusha hoped to receive an answer the following day, but none came. Nor
did it come the next day, nor the next. That week passed and no reply
came from Cousin Gussie. Galusha began to worry a little, but Miss
Phipps did not.

"Perhaps he's away for a day or two, sick or somethin'," she suggested.
"Perhaps he's lookin' up some facts about the Development Company.
Perhaps he hasn't had time to read the letter at all yet. Mercy me, you
mustn't expect as busy a man as the head of Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot
to drop everything else and run around in circles attendin' to my little
two-for-a-cent business!"

The relative of the great man admitted that there was reason in this
line of argument, but he was impatient, nevertheless. His daily walks
now included trips to the post office. On one of those trips he caught a
glimpse of Mr. Pulcifer's hemispherical countenance through its wearer's
office window, and, on the spur of the moment's impulse, went in.

Horatio, who was smoking his customary cigar, reading a political
circular and humming "Beautiful Lady" all at the same time, looked up
from the reading and greeted him boisterously.

"Well, well, well!" exclaimed Raish. "If it ain't the Perfessor
again! Welcome to amongst our midst, as the feller said. Have a chair,
Perfessor. How's things in the graveyard these days? Kind of dead around
there, eh? Haw, haw, haw!"

He enjoyed his joke and laugh and Galusha smiled because he felt that
politeness required it. When the laugh and smile had run their course,
he endeavored to come to the point.

"Mr. Pulcifer," he said, "I--if you are not too greatly occupied I
should like to ask--ah--a business question. Ah--may I?"

He most assuredly could. In fact, he was urged to ask it then and there.

"Never too busy to talk business, a feller usually ain't; eh, Perfessor?
Haw, haw! I'd say he wan't, eh? Set down, set down and ease your mind.
What's the business question? Let 'er go."

Mr. Bangs let her go to the extent of stammering a request to be given
his companion's candid opinion concerning the shares of the Wellmouth
Development Company. He was--ah--somewhat interested in them, so he
said.

Raish leaned back in his chair and scrutinized the questioner. He shot
at least five deep-drawn puffs of smoke into the already murky air of
the little offic