entor had managed to
sell all the stock; and from the very beginning the operations would be
carried out by a closed corporation. The question before the directors
was whether to have machines manufactured and hire them out, or to
construct a plant and manufacture them for the trade.

To Hiram it was dull and incomprehensible, and after finishing it he
looked up at Tweet for an explanation.

"I got a sixth int'rest in her, Hooker," Tweet carelessly informed him.
"My pay for sellin' the stock for 'em."

"Really! Is it worth anything to you?"

"I'm holdin' it' at eight thousand five hundred. It'll be worth double
that in a year or two."

"Eight thousand five hundred!" Hiram stared unbelievingly at Tweet.
"Why don't you sell it, then?"

"Didn't I say it would be worth double that amount in a year or two?"

"Yes, but you're broke and----"

"And I'll stay broke on a deal like that." Tweet's indignation caused
him to grab his off-center nose and impatiently correct its obstinate
trend, but to no avail. "But le's forget it and get back to that
bugbear of our young lives. _When_ are we _going_ to southern
California?"

Hiram sat framing a reply, which was rather a difficult process.

"Le's wait till to-morrow, anyway," he said at last.

"Had quite a little chat with Lucy to-day, eh?"

"Yes, I did. When you told----" Hiram bit his tongue. "The truth is,
she's from Mendocino County, too, and we--we--that is, we found it out."

Not the faintest sign of suspicion or surprise showed in Tweet's face.
"Well, suit yourself," he said nonchalantly. "It's a little late, or
I'd go this afternoon. But to-morrow I go. My friend'll dig up the
price, but I hate to hit him up any more. Think it over a little
longer, Hooker--I'm goin' down for a little stroll. But
remember--before noon to-morrow I've gotta have a definite answer.
I've found that Morgan & Stroud send their bunches out every day at one
o'clock."

Tweet folded his precious paper, crammed it his pocket, and left the
room.

A few minutes afterward Hiram followed. He ate lunch and dinner in
one, then strolled about the city, dreaming of Lucy and fretfully
counting the hours till he might expect to feast his material eyes on
her again. At nine o'clock he returned to the lodging house, made sure
that Tweet was not in the lounging room, and went to bed.

Next morning, close to nine o'clock, he was shifting from one foot to
the other before the cashier