"John," he said, a few minutes later, when we took a short stroll
around the place. "Now that I've started in to tell the whole
truth I musn't skip a paragraph. This is a pleasant bit of
property, but the solemn fact remains that I put the boots to you.
I gave you the gaff for $6,000, old friend, and it breaks my heart
to tell you that I'm not sorry. Bunch for Number One, always!"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"This farm only cost me $8,000," he said, giving me the pitying
grin.

"It cost me $14,000 and I sold it for $20,000," I said, slowly.

We stopped and shook hands.

"Who's the come-on?" he asked, presently.

"Uncle Peter," I answered, "but the old boy has so much he has to
kick a lot of it out of the house every once in a while, so it's
all right."

After dinner we were all sitting on the piazza listening to a
treatise from Uncle Peter on the subject of the growth and proper
care of wheat cakes, or asparagus, I forget which, when suddenly
the cadaverous form of the Sherlock Holmes of Jiggersville appeared
before us.

"Evenin' all!" bowed Harmony Diggs, clinging tightly to a bundle