puts in J. Bayard soothin'. "We understand that, Mr. Webb."

"But you've come out all right; you struck something just as good, or
better, eh?" and I waves round at the teashop. "Course, you ain't
catchin' the business here you might if you was located better. And I
expect you feel like you was wastin' your talents on a place this size.
But with a whole second floor near some of the big Fifth avenue
department stores, where you could soak 'em half a dollar for a club
sandwich and a quarter for a cup of tea,--a flossy, big joint with a
hundred tables, real French waiters from Staten Island, and a genuine
Hungarian orchestra, imported from East 176th street, where you could
handle a line of Mexican drawnwork, and Navajo blankets, and Russian
samovars, and----"

"No, no!" breaks in Gerald peevish. "Stop!"

"Eh?" says I, gawpin' at him.

"If you are proposing all that as a--a recompense for being publicly
humiliated," says he, "and having my career entirely spoiled--well, you
just needn't, that's all. I do not care for anything of the kind."

I gasps. Then I gazes foolish over at J. Bayard to see if he has
anything to offer. He just scowls at me and shakes his head, as much as
to say:

"There, you see! You've messed things all up."

"All right, Mr. Webb," says I. "Then you name it."

"Do you mean," says he, "that Mr. Gordon intended to leave me something
in his will; that he--er--considered I was entitled to some--ah----"

"That's the idea, more or less," says I. "Only Mr. Steele here, he's
been tryin' to dope out what would suit you best."

"Could--could it be in the form of a--a cash sum?" asks Gerald.

I sighs relieved and looks inquirin' at Steele. He nods, and I nods
back.

"Sure thing," says I.

"How much?" demands Webb.

"Time out," says I, "until Mr. Steele and I can get together."

So while Gerald is pacin' nervous up and down between the tables we
makes figures on the back of the menu. We begins by guessin' what he was
gettin' when he was fired, then what salary he might have been pullin'
down in five years, at the end of ten, and so on, deductin' some for
black times and makin' allowances for hard luck. But inside of five
minutes we'd agreed on a lump sum.

"What about twenty thousand?" says I.

Gerald gulps once or twice, turns a little pale, and then asks choky,
"Would--would you put that in writing?"

"I can give you a voucher for the whole amount," says Steele.

"Then--then please!" s