oking, read David's mind and
shrugged his shoulders.

"Your own fault, kid," said he. "I wanted to give you a free ride, but
you had to come up and hear what he had to say."

"Johnson!" Anthony said sharply, "Just let the youngster's mental
processes work the thing out in their own way."

Half a minute dragged along--yet before it was gone one saw clearly that
the mental processes had taken their grip. An extremely visible change
was coming over David Prentiss. He gulped down certain emotions of his
own, and presently managed to smile, uneasily at first and then with a
certain confidence. He cleared his throat and, with a slight huskiness,
addressed Anthony:

"Er--do I understand that you want me to stay here until I fully
appreciate all you've offered me, Mr. Fry?"

"Virtually that."

"Well, I appreciated that all along; but--but I was sort of worried
about it getting so late, you know," David said brightly. "I certainly
do appreciate it, and I thank you very much. Now can I have my coat?"

"Really decided to grip the opportunity, eh?" Anthony asked keenly.

"You bet!"

Johnson Boller laid aside his paper.

"Now chase him, Anthony!" he said. "He's standing up and holding the
sugar on his nose. Slip the kid a five-dollar bill and let Wilkins----"

"Do you really imagine that I'd rouse all the boy's hopes and then play
him a shabby trick like that?" Anthony asked sharply.

"Huh?"

"Most emphatically not!" Mr. Fry said. "I'll play no such shabby trick
on the youngster. He shall have exactly the chance I promised, and I
shall watch the working out of the idea with the most intense interest.
David, I'm going to keep you here from this minute!"

"Keep me here?" David echoed blankly.

"Certainly."

David gazed fixedly at the electrolier.

"Well, I'll tell you, Mr. Fry," he said. "I'd like to stay to-night, but
I can't--not to-night. You see, I have to go home to my father. He's
an--an invalid."

"We'll telephone the good news to him," Anthony smiled.

"You can't," said David. "We're too poor to have a telephone."

"Very well. Then we'll wire him."

David shook his head energetically.

"That wouldn't do, either," said he. "Father's sick, you know. His
heart's very weak. Just the sight of a telegram might kill him."

"Unfortunate!" Anthony sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "Very well,
David. Then you shall write him a note, and I'll have Wilkins take it to
him."

David swallowed audibly and smil