as promised to marry
our Richard. On their way to the theatre there was a street blockade,
and it was two hours before their cab could get out of it.

"And oh, brother Anthony, don't ever boast of the power of money again.
A little emblem of true love--a little ring that symbolised unending
and unmercenary affection--was the cause of our Richard finding his
happiness. He dropped it in the street, and got out to recover it. And
before they could continue the blockade occurred. He spoke to his love
and won her there while the cab was hemmed in. Money is dross compared
with true love, Anthony."

"All right," said old Anthony. "I'm glad the boy has got what he wanted.
I told him I wouldn't spare any expense in the matter if--"

"But, brother Anthony, what good could your money have done?"

"Sister," said Anthony Rockwall. "I've got my pirate in a devil of a
scrape. His ship has just been scuttled, and he's too good a judge of
the value of money to let drown. I wish you would let me go on with
this chapter."

The story should end here. I wish it would as heartily as you who read
it wish it did. But we must go to the bottom of the well for truth.

The next day a person with red hands and a blue polka-dot necktie, who
called himself Kelly, called at Anthony Rockwall's house, and was at
once received in the library.

"Well," said Anthony, reaching for his chequebook, "it was a good bilin'
of soap. Let's see--you had $5,000 in cash."

"I paid out $300 more of my own," said Kelly. "I had to go a little
above the estimate. I got the express wagons and cabs mostly for $5; but
the trucks and two-horse teams mostly raised me to $10. The motormen
wanted $10, and some of the loaded teams $20. The cops struck me
hardest--$50 I paid two, and the rest $20 and $25. But didn't it work
beautiful, Mr. Rockwall? I'm glad William A. Brady wasn't onto that
little outdoor vehicle mob scene. I wouldn't want William to break his
heart with jealousy. And never a rehearsal, either! The boys was on time
to the fraction of a second. It was two hours before a snake could get
below Greeley's statue."

"Thirteen hundred--there you are, Kelly," said Anthony, tearing off a
check. "Your thousand, and the $300 you were out. You don't despise
money, do you, Kelly?"

"Me?" said Kelly. "I can lick the man that invented poverty."

Anthony called Kelly when he was at the door.

"You didn't notice," said he, "anywhere in the tie-up, a kind of a fat
b