"I hope so myself," replied Joe, with a smile, as he put the tickets in
a valise.

A little later he was on his way downtown. He had several hours before
he would have to go "on," as he did not take part in the parade, and he
had several matters to attend to.

Joe made his way toward a large office building, carrying the valise
with the circus tickets. A little later he might have been seen entering
an office, the door of which bore the name of "Herbert Waldon,
Consulting Chemist."

"Mr. Strong," said Joe to the boy who came forward to inquire his
errand. "Mr. Waldon is expecting me, I believe."

"Oh, yes," said the boy. "You're to come right in."

Joe was ushered into a room which was filled with strange appliances,
from test tubes and retorts to electrical furnaces and X-ray apparatus.
A little man in a rather soiled linen coat came forward, smiling.

"I won't shake hands with you, Mr. Strong," he said, "for I've been
dabbling in some vile-smelling stuff. But if you wait until I wash I'll
be right with you."

"All right," assented Joe. And then, as he caught sight of what seemed
to be a number of canceled bank checks on a table, he smilingly asked:
"Have you been paying your income tax?"

"Oh, no," answered the chemist with a laugh. "Those are just some