for him was, as Cousin Gussie unfeelingly put it, "one
damned mummy after the other." In fact, after the arrival of the first
installment of income, he traveled posthaste to the office of his Boston
relative and entered a protest.

"You--you mustn't send any more, really you mustn't," he declared,
anxiously. "I don't know what to do with it."

"DO with it? Do with the money, you mean?"

"Yes--yes, that's it."

"But don't you need it to live on?"

"Oh, dear me, no!"

"What DO you live on?"

"Why, my salary."

"How much is your salary, if you don't mind telling us?"

Galusha did not in the least mind. The figure he named seemed a small
one to his banking relative, used to big sums.

"Humph!" grunted the latter; "well, that isn't so tremendous. They don't
overpay you mummy-dusters, do they? And you really don't want me to send
you any more?"

"No, not if you're sure you don't mind."

"Oh, I don't mind. Then you want me to keep it and reinvest it for you;
is that it?"

"I--I think so. Yes, reinvest it or--ah--something."

"But you may need some of it occasionally. If you do you will notify me,
of course."

"Oh, yes; yes, indeed. Thank you very much. It's quite a weight off my
mind, really it is."

Cabot could not help laughing. Then a thought struck him.

"Did you bring back the check I sent you?" he asked. Galusha looked
somewhat confused.

"Why, why, no, I didn't," he admitted. "I had intended to, but you
see--Dear me, dear me, I hope you will feel that I did right. You see,
our paleontological department had been hoping to fit out an expedition
to the Wyoming fossil fields, but it was lamentably short of funds,
appropriations--ah--and so on. Hambridge and I were talking of the
matter. A very adequate man indeed, Hambridge. Possibly you've read some
of his writings. He wrote Lesser Reptilian Life in the Jurassio. Are you
acquainted with that?"

Cousin Gussie shook his head. "Never have been introduced," he observed,
with a chuckle. Galusha noted the chuckle and smiled.

"I imagine not," he observed. "I fear it isn't what is called
a--ah--best seller. Well--ah--Dear me, where was I? Oh, yes! Hambridge,
poor fellow, was very much upset at the prospect of abandoning his
expedition and I, knowing from experience what such a disappointment
means, sympathized with him. Your check was at that moment lying on my
desk. So--so--It was rather on the spur of the moment, I confess--I--"

The banker interr