eeable to the nostrils
nevertheless delights the banker's soul.

"Ah! Good morning to you, Mrs. Effingham!" Mr. Tutt cried, waving her in
when that lady was announced. "You are not the only millionaire, you
see! In fact, I've stumbled into a few barrels of securities
myself--only I didn't pay anything for them."

"Gracious!" cried Mrs. Effingham, her eyes lighting with astonishment.
"Wherever did you get them? And such exquisite pictures! Look at that
lamb!"

"It ought to have been a wolf!" muttered Mr. Tutt. "Well, Mrs.
Effingham, I've decided to make you a present--just a few pounds of
Chicago Water Front and Canadian Southern--those over there in that
pile; and now if you say so we'll just go along to your bank."

"Give them to me!" she protested. "What on earth for? You're joking, Mr.
Tutt."

"Not a bit of it!" he retorted. "I don't make any pretensions as to the
value of my gift, but they're yours for whatever they're worth."

He wrapped them carefully in a piece of paper and returned the balance
to Doc Barrows' dress-suit case.

"Aren't you afraid to leave them that way?" she asked, surprised.

"Not at all! Not at all!" he laughed. "You see there are fortunes lying
all about us everywhere if we only know where to look. Now the first
thing to do is to get your bonds back from the bank."

Mr. Thomas McKeever, the popular loan clerk of the Mustardseed National,
was just getting ready for the annual visit of the state bank examiner
when Mr. Tutt, followed by Mrs. Effingham, entered the exquisitely
furnished boudoir where lady clients were induced by all modern
conveniences except manicures and shower baths to become depositors. Mr.
Tutt and Mr. McKeever belonged to the same Saturday evening poker game
at the Colophon Club, familiarly known as The Bible Class.

"Morning, Tom," said Mr. Tutt. "This is my client, Mrs. Effingham. You
hold her note, I believe, for ten thousand dollars secured by some
government bonds. She has a use for those bonds and I thought that you
might be willing to take my indorsement instead. You know I'm good for
the money."

"Why, I guess we can accommodate her, Mr. Tutt!" answered the
Chesterfieldian Mr. McKeever. "Certainly we can. Sit down, Mrs.
Effingham, while I send for your bonds. See the morning paper?"

Mrs. Effingham blushingly acknowledged that she had not seen the paper.
In fact, she was much too excited to see anything.

"Sign here!" said the loan clerk, placing the