t mystification appeared on the broad brow of the
waiter, but he was inured to eccentric gastronomic requests, and
fulfilled this one with his accustomed dignity.

"There!" said Smith. "There's my bet paid, though strictly speaking
you couldn't have held me for it, since you were betting on a
certainty."

"May I pass the spoils?" replied the girl, with a laugh.

The memory of those three macaroons had to stand Smith in the stead of
other things for the last days of November. On his arrival at the
office on the morning following Thanksgiving Day, Mr. O'Connor
requested him to go down to Baltimore on company business requiring
some little time to transact, and not until after the first of December
did he set foot again in New York.

He arrived at about eight o'clock in the morning; and as he was obliged
to go home first, he did not reach William Street until nearly ten. As
he entered the Guardian office, he was aware that something unusual had
happened. Business seemed somehow to have been oddly interrupted.
Around the map desks and file cases little groups of clerks were
gathered, talking in low tones.

Smith watched them in silence for a moment, and as no one volunteered
to enlighten him as to what had occurred, he walked over to Mr.
Bartels's office and went in.

"What's the matter here this morning? Is there a conflagration
anywhere?" he asked the stolid personage at the desk, who barely ceased
his figuring to make response:--

"Go and see the boss. He and O'Connor have had a quarrel--funny
business--I don't know anything about it, that's all."

Smith went. Mr. O'Connor was in his room, busily engaged at his desk;
the table beside him was heaped high with papers and books, which was
an unusual sight, for O'Connor was a methodical man and the room was
customarily bare of litter. The General Agent walked thoughtfully over
to the other side of the office, and glanced through the President's
door. Mr. Wintermuth was walking up and down, his hands behind him and
his face a little flushed. Smith hesitated, then deliberately opened
the door and entered.

"Good morning, sir. I have--" he began, but his chief, with an
expression in which anger was still the predominant characteristic,
said abruptly:--

"Do you know what has happened?"

"No, sir, I do not."

"Mr. O'Connor has tendered his resignation, as Vice-President of the
Guardian!"

Smith stood still a long minute without answering, and then he