ch," growled Mr. Brewster, who was finding his
son-in-law's superior manner a little trying.

"Now, don't interrupt, father," said Lucille, severely. "Can't you see
that Archie is going to be tremendously clever in a minute?"

"He's got to show me!"

"What you ought to do," said Archie, "is to let me go and see him,
taking the stuff in crackling bills. I'll roll them about on the
table in front of him. That'll fetch him!" He prodded Mr. Brewster
encouragingly with a roll. "I'll tell you what to do. Give me three
thousand of the best and crispest, and I'll undertake to buy that shop.
It can't fail, laddie!"

"Don't call me laddie!" Mr. Brewster pondered. "Very well," he said at
last. "I didn't know you had so much sense," he added grudgingly.

"Oh, positively!" said Archie. "Beneath a rugged exterior I hide a brain
like a buzz-saw. Sense? I exude it, laddie; I drip with it."

There were moments during the ensuing days when Mr. Brewster permitted
himself to hope; but more frequent were the moments when he told himself
that a pronounced chump like his son-in-law could not fail somehow to
make a mess of the negotiations. His relief, therefore, when Archie
curveted into his private room and announced that he had succeeded was
great.

"You really managed to make that wop sell out?"

Archie brushed some papers off the desk with a careless gesture, and
seated himself on the vacant spot.

"Absolutely! I spoke to him as one old friend to another, sprayed the
bills all over the place; and he sang a few bars from 'Rigoletto,' and
signed on the dotted line."

"You're not such a fool as you look," owned Mr. Brewster.

Archie scratched a match on the desk and lit a cigarette.

"It's a jolly little shop," he said. "I took quite a fancy to it. Full
of newspapers, don't you know, and cheap novels, and some weird-looking
sort of chocolates, and cigars with the most fearfully attractive
labels. I think I'll make a success of it. It's bang in the middle of a
dashed good neighbourhood. One of these days somebody will be building
a big hotel round about there, and that'll help trade a lot. I look
forward to ending my days on the other side of the counter with a
full set of white whiskers and a skull-cap, beloved by everybody.
Everybody'll say, 'Oh, you MUST patronise that quaint, delightful old
blighter! He's quite a character.'"

Mr. Brewster's air of grim satisfaction had given way to a look of
discomfort, almost of alarm. H