d Orde cheerfully into the darkness.

"Hullo!" a man's voice instantly responded.

"Taylor and Clara," said Orde to Carroll with satisfaction. "Just the
man I wanted to see."

The lawyer and his wife mounted the steps. He was a quick, energetic,
spare man, with lean cheeks, a bristling, clipped moustache, and
a slight stoop to his shoulders. She was small, piquant, almost
child-like, with a dainty up-turned nose, a large and lustrous eye,
a constant, bird-like animation of manner--the Folly of artists, the
adorable, lovable, harmless Folly standing tiptoe on a complaisant
world.

"Just the man I wanted to see," repeated Orde, as the two approached.

Clara Taylor stopped short and considered him for a moment.

"Let us away," she said seriously to Carroll. "My prophetic soul tells
me they are going to talk business, and if any more business is talked
in my presence, I shall EXPIRE!"

Both men laughed, but Orde explained apologetically:

"Well, you know, Mrs. Taylor, these are my especially busy days for the
firm, and I have to work my private affairs in when I can."

"I thought Frank was very solicitous about my getting out in the air,"
cried Clara. "Come, Carroll, let's wander down the street and see Mina
Heinzman."

The two interlocked arms and sauntered along the walk. Both men lit
cigars and sat on the top step of the porch.

"Look here, Taylor," broke in Orde abruptly, "you told me the other day
you had fifteen or twenty thousand you wanted to place somewhere."

"Yes," replied Taylor.

"Well, I believe I have just the proposition."

"What is it?"

"California pine," replied Orde.

"California pine?" repeated Taylor, after a slight pause. "Why
California? That's a long way off. And there's no market, is there? Why
way out there?"

"It's cheap," replied Orde succinctly. "I don't say it will be good
for immediate returns, nor even for returns in the near future, but in
twenty or thirty years it ought to pay big on a small investment made
now."

Taylor shook his head doubtfully.

"I don't see how you figure it," he objected. "We have more timber than
we can use in the East. Why should we go several thousand miles west for
the same thing?"

"When our timber gives out, then we'll HAVE to go west," said Orde.

Taylor laughed.

"Laugh all you please," rejoined Orde, "but I tell you Michigan and
Wisconsin pine is doomed. Twenty or thirty years from now there won't be
any white pine for sale."