them up." The lots refused to
stay up; but he had to do something to keep himself and his family up,
so in despair he sold the lots (which went up beautifully the next year)
for "traction stock" that was paying dividends; and thereafter he ceased
to buy and sell. Thus he disappeared altogether from the commercial
surface at about the time James Sheridan came out securely on top; and
Sheridan, until Mrs. Vertrees called upon him with her "anti-smoke"
committee, had never heard the name.

Mr. Vertrees, pinched, retired to his Landseers, and Mrs. Vertrees
"managed somehow" on the dividends, though "managing" became more and
more difficult as the years went by and money bought less and less. But
there came a day when three servitors of Bigness in Philadelphia took
greedy counsel with four fellow-worshipers from New York, and not long
after that there were no more dividends for Mr. Vertrees. In fact, there
was nothing for Mr. Vertrees, because the "traction stock" henceforth
was no stock at all, and he had mortgaged his house long ago to help
"manage somehow" according to his conception of his "position in
life"--one of his own old-fashioned phrases. Six months before the
completion of the New House next door, Mr. Vertrees had sold his horses
and the worn Victoria and "station-wagon," to pay the arrears of his two
servants and re-establish credit at the grocer's and butcher's--and a
pair of elderly carriage-horses with such accoutrements are not very
ample barter, in these days, for six months' food and fuel and service.
Mr. Vertrees had discovered, too, that there was no salary for him in
all the buzzing city--he could do nothing.

It may be said that he was at the end of his string. Such times do come
in all their bitterness, finally, to the man with no trade or craft, if
his feeble clutch on that slippery ghost, Property, shall fail.

The windows grew black while he paced the room, and smoky twilight
closed round about the house, yet not more darkly than what closed round
about the heart of the anxious little man patrolling the fan-shaped zone
of firelight. But as the mantel clock struck wheezily six there was the
rattle of an outer door, and a rich and beautiful peal of laughter went
ringing through the house. Thus cheerfully did Mary Vertrees herald her
return with her mother from their expedition among the barbarians.

She came rushing into the library and threw herself into a deep chair by
the hearth, laughing so