een a hit, he said, but the kid in the play--the one that unites
its parents in the last act just before he dies of tuberculosis--the kid
took the mumps and looked as if, instead of fading away, he was going to
blow up. Everybody was so afraid of him that they let him die alone for
three nights in the middle of the stage. Then the leading woman took the
mumps, and the sheriff took everything else.

"You city folks seem to know so much," I said, "and yet you bring a
country play to the country! Why don't you bring out a play with women
in low-necked gowns, and champagne suppers, and a scandal or two? They
packed Pike's Opera-House three years ago with a play called Why Women
Sin."

Well, of course, the thing failed, and he lost every dollar he'd put
into it, which was all he had, including what he had in his pockets.

"They seized my trunks," he explained, "and I sold my fur-lined overcoat
for eight dollars, which took one of the girls back home. It's hard for
the women. A fellow can always get some sort of a job--I was coming up
here to see if they needed an extra clerk or a waiter, or chauffeur,
or anything that meant a roof and something to eat--but I suppose they
don't need a jack-of-all-trades."

"No," I answered, "but I'll tell you what I think they're going to need.
And that's an owner!"

CHAPTER VI

THE CONSPIRACY

I'm not making any excuses. I did it for the best. In any sort of crisis
there are always folks who stand around and wring their hands and say,
"What shall we do?" And then if it's a fire and somebody has had enough
sense to send for the engines, they say: "Just look at what the water
did!" Although as far as I can see I'm the only one that suffered any
damage.

If Mr. Thoburn had not been there, sitting by to see the old sanatorium
die so it could sprout wings and fly as a summer hotel, I'd never have
thought of it. But I was in despair.

I got up and opened the door, but the Snow came in in a cloud, and the
path was half a foot deep again. It shows on what little threads big
things hang, for when I saw the storm I gave up the idea of bringing Mr.
Sam down to see the young man, and the breath of fresh air in my face
brought me to my senses.

But the angel of providence appeared in the shape of Mike, the bath man,
coming down through the snow in a tearing rage. The instant I saw Mike I
knew it was settled.

"Am I or am I not to give Mr. Moody a needle shower?" he shouted, almost