els and make a try for them too. It will
only cost him a big blue chip. By the time he has invested all the money
he hasn't got and the rent is two weeks' overdue, he will be able to
tell the landlord to wait seven months until the Monday morning after
the publication. Go ahead, Penny."

It was the habit to make game of little Pennoyer. He was always having
gorgeous opportunities, with no opportunity to take advantage of his
opportunities.

Penny smiled at them, his tiny, tiny smile of courage.

"You're a confident little cuss," observed Grief, irrelevantly.

"Well, the world has no objection to your being confident also, Grief,"
said Purple.

"Hasn't it?" said Grief. "Well, I want to know."

Wrinkles could not be light-spirited long. He was obliged to despair
when occasion offered. At last he sank down in a chair and seized his
guitar.

"Well, what's to be done?" he said. He began to play mournfully.

"Throw Purple out," mumbled Grief from the bed.

"Are you fairly certain that you will have money then, Penny?" asked
Purple.

Little Pennoyer looked apprehensive. "Well, I don't know," he said.

And then began that memorable discussion, great in four minds. The
tobacco was of the "Long John" brand. It smelled like burning mummies.

A DINNER ON SUNDAY EVENING.

Once Purple Sanderson went to his home in St. Lawrence county to enjoy
some country air, and, incidentally, to explain his life failure to his
people. Previously, Great Grief had given him odds that he would return
sooner than he had planned, and everybody said that Grief had a good
bet. It is not a glorious pastime, this explaining of life failures.

Later, Great Grief and Wrinkles went to Haverstraw to visit Grief's
cousin and sketch. Little Pennoyer was disheartened, for it is bad to be
imprisoned in brick and dust and cobbles when your ear can hear in the
distance the harmony of the summer sunlight upon leaf and blade of
green. Besides, he did not hear Wrinkles and Grief discoursing and
quarrelling in the den, and Purple coming in at six o'clock with
contempt.

On Friday afternoon he discovered that he only had fifty cents to last
until Saturday morning, when he was to get his cheque from the _Gamin_.
He was an artful little man by this time, however, and it is as true as
the sky that when he walked toward the _Gamin_ office on Saturday he had
twenty cents remaining.

The cashier nodded his regrets, "Very sorry, Mr.--er--Pennoyer, but our