his wallet. "I think the only
twenties I have are those that we put through the aging process."

Wallingford calmly took the wallet from him and as calmly leafed over
the bills it contained.

"No, none of these twenties is from the new batch," he decided,
entering more and more into the spirit of the game, "but this
half-century is one that we're all proud of. Just examine that, Mr.
Pickins," and closing the wallet he handed it back to Phelps, passing
the fifty-dollar bill to the stranger. "Billy, give me one of those
twenties. I'm bound to show Mr. Pickins one of our best output."

Badger Billy, being notorious even among his fellows as a tight-wad,
swallowed hard, but he produced a small roll of bills and extracted
the newest twenty he could find. During this process it had twice
crossed Billy's mind to revolt; but, after all, Wallingford was
evincing an interest in the game that might be worth while.

"That's it," approved Wallingford, running it through his fingers and
passing it over to Pickins. He got up from his place and took the
vacant chair by that gentleman. "I just want you to look at the nifty
imitation of engine work in this scroll border," he insisted with vast
enthusiasm, while Mr. Pickins cast a despairing glance, half-puzzled
and half-bored, at the others of the company, themselves awed into
silence.

He was still explaining the excellent work in the more intricate
portions of the two designs when the waiter appeared with the wine,
and Wallingford only interrupted himself long enough nonchalantly to
toss the ten-dollar bill on the tray after the glasses were filled.
Then, with vast fervor, he returned to the counterfeiting business,
with the specimens before him as an inspiring text.

The waiter brought back two dollars in silver.

"Just keep the change," said Wallingford grandly, and then, as the
waiter was about to withdraw, he quickly handed up the fifty and the
twenty-dollar bills to him. "Just take this twenty, George," said he
to the waiter, "and run down to the cigar-store on the corner and buy
some of those dollar cigars. You might as well get us about three
apiece. Then take this fifty and get us a box for _The Prince of
Pikers_ to-night. Hustle right on, now," and he gave the waiter a
gentle but insistent shove on the arm that had all the effect of
bustling him out of the room. "We'll show Mr. Pickins a good time," he
exultantly declared. "We'll show him how easy it is to live on soft