ONLY A MILLIONAIRE

That is, Mr. Budlong came into a lot of money. Which meant that Mr.
Budlong would be permitted to take care of it while his wife got rid of
it. One of those relatives, very common in fiction, and not altogether
unknown in real life, finally let go of her money at the behest of her
impatient undertaker. The Budlongs had the pleasure of seeing the
glorious news of their good fortune in big headlines in the Carthage
papers.

It was the only display Mr. Budlong ever received in that paper without
paying for it--excepting the time when he ran for Mayor on the
opposition ticket and was referred to in letters an inch high as
"Candidate Nipped-in-the-Budlong."

But now the cornucopia of plenty had burst wide open on the front
porch. It seemed as if they would have to wade through gold dollars to
get to their front gate--when the money was collected. When the money
was collected.

And now it was Mrs. Budlong's telephone that rang and rang. It was
she that was called up and called up. It was she that sagged along the
wall and shifted from foot to foot, from elbow to elbow and ear to ear.

After living in Carthage all her life she was suddenly, as it were,
welcomed to the city as a distinguished visiting stranger. And now she
had no need to invite people to return their calls. They came
spontaneously. Sometimes there were a dozen calling at once. It was a
reception every day. There were overflow meetings in the room which
Mrs. Budlong called Mr. Budlong's "den." This was the place where she