was for the bank; he thought he was givin' his life and his life-blood
and the blood of his brain for the bank, but he wasn't. It was every
bit--from the time he went in at seventeen till he died in harness at
eighty-three--it was every last lick of it just slavin' for that
turned-up-nose, turned-up-pants cigarette boy. AND TRACY DIDN'T EVEN
KNOW HIS NAME! He died, not ever havin' heard it, though he chased
him off the front steps of his house once. The day after Tracy died
his old-maid daughter married the cigarette--and there AIN'T any Tracy
bank any more! And now"--his voice rose again--"and now I got a
cigarette son-in-law!"

Gurney pointed to the flourishing right hand without speaking, and
Sheridan once more returned it to the sling.

"My son-in-law likes Florida this winter," Sheridan went on. "That's
good, and my son-in-law better enjoy it, because I don't think he'll
be there next winter. They got twelve-thousand dollars to spend, and
I hear it can be done in Florida by rich sons-in-law. When Roscoe's
woman got me to spend that much on a porch for their new house, Edith
wouldn't give me a minute's rest till I turned over the same to her.
And she's got it, besides what I gave her to go East on. It'll be
gone long before this time next year, and when she comes home and
leaves the cigarette behind--for good--she'll get some more. MY name
ain't Tracy, and there ain't goin' to be any Tracy business in the
Sheridan family. And there ain't goin' to be any college foundin' and
endowin' and trusteein', nor God-knows-what to keep my property alive
when I'm gone! Edith'll be back, and she'll get a girl's share when
she's through with that cigarette, but--"

"By the way," interposed Gurney, "didn't Mrs. Sheridan tell me that