it with a strangle hold. He had been
dilatory but now he intended to get down to business.

If only he could hang on until he accomplished his end! Symes stopped
manicuring his nails with a pin, which he kept in the lapel of his coat
for that commendable purpose, and counted his money. He was thankful
that since he _had_ overdrawn his account he had done it so liberally
as, by strict economy, it would enable him to remain a short while and
depart with his credit still unimpaired.

Augusta Symes regarded the pile of crisp banknotes with pleased eyes.
She could not recollect ever having seen so much money together before;
the proceeds of horse-shoeing and wagon repairs came mostly in silver.
Placing the banknotes in his wallet with considerably more than his
usual care, Mr. Symes paced the floor of their corner suite with the
slow, measured strides of meditation, his noble head sunk upon his
breast and his broad brow corrugated in thought. Mrs. Symes's eyes
followed him in silent and respectful admiration.

When he stopped, finally, in the middle of the room, the fire of
enthusiasm was newly kindled in his eyes and an unconscious squaring of
his shoulders announced that he was now prepared to "do something."

Symes really had initial energy and the trait was most apparent when
driven by necessity. The first step toward getting his enterprise under
way was the bringing together of the people he hoped to interest. He
reached for his hat and straightened his scarf before the mirror.

Augusta watched the preparations in some dismay; she dreaded being alone
in the great hotel.

"Will you be gone long, Mr. Symes?"

"Good God! Don't call me Mister Symes," he burst out in unexpected
exasperation.

Augusta's eyes filled with tears.

"But--but everybody calls you 'Andy' and--and just 'Symes' sounds so
familiar. Why can't I call you 'Phidias?'"

"Phidias! Do, by all means, call me Phidias. I dote on Phidias! I love
the combination--Phidias Symes. Father was drunk when he named me."

He slammed the door behind him, forgetting to explain that he was not
returning for luncheon or dinner so, that evening, while Augusta
wandered aimlessly through the rooms, both hungry and anxious yet afraid
to venture into the big dining-room, Andy P. Symes was saying with
impressive emphasis as he fumbled in a box of cabanas:

"Big opportunities, I am convinced, seldom come more than once to a
man."

His guests listened to the trite ax