ck."

Kling, bewildered, followed the play of O'Day's fingers in the air as if
he were already placing the ornaments and hangings with which his mind
was filled.

"Vell, vot ve do vid de stuff dot's comin'--all dem sideboards and
chairs and de pig tables? Ve ain't got de space."

"Half of them will go here, and the balance we will pile away on the
top floor. When these are sold then we'll bring down the others--always
keeping up the character of the room. That is my idea. What do you think
of it?"

The shopkeeper hesitated, his fat features twisted in calculation.
Every move of his new salesman had brought him in double his money. The
placing of his goods so that a customer would be compelled to crawl over
a table in order to see whether a chair had three whole legs or two,
dust and darkness helping, had always seemed to him one of the tricks of
the trade and not to be abandoned lightly.

"You mean dot ve valk 'round loose in de middle, and everyting is shoved
back de Vall behind, so you can see it all over?"

Felix smothered a smile. "Certainly, why not?"

"Vell, Mr. O'Day, I don't know." Then, noticing the quickly drawn brows
of his clerk's face and the shadow of disappointment: "Of course, ve can
try it, and if it don't vork ve do it over, don't ve?"

Masie slipped her arm through O'Day's and began a joyous tattoo with her
foot. She knew now that Felix had carried the day.

"And now for Masie's idea, Mr. Kling."

"Oh, dere is someting else, eh? I tought dere vould be ven you puts your
two noddles togedder--Vell, vot is dot all about, eh?"

"She is to have a birthday. She will be eleven years old next Saturday."

"By Jeminy, yes, dot's so! I forgot dot, Masie. Yes, it comes on de
tventy-fust. Vy you don't tell me before, little Beesvings?"

"Yes, next Saturday; only four days off," continued Felix, forging ahead
to avoid any side-tracking of his main theme. "And what are you going to
do for her? Not many more of them before she will be out of the window
like a bird, and off with somebody else."

Otto ruminated. He loved his daughter, even if he did sometimes forget
her very existence. "Oh, I don't know. I guess ve buy her sometings
putty--vot you like to have, Beesvings? Or maybe you like to go to de
teater vid Auntie Gossburger. I get de tickets."

The child disengaged her hand from O'Day's arm, pushed back her hair
and tiptoed to her father. "I want a party, Popsy--a real party," she
whispered, tip