other directions as possible, like a child deliberately feasting
upon thoughts of Santa Claus though on the way to a promised
spanking.

"There's a hoodoo on this block," Johnny observed as they were
caught in the traffic crush almost in front of their destination.

"Lofty and Ersten must be the hoodooers, then," laughed Polly.
"Everybody else has gone away."

Johnny looked at the towering big Lofty establishment, which
occupied half the block, and at the dingy little ladies' tailoring
shop, down around the other corner, with speculative curiosity.
About both, as widely different as they were, there was the same
indefinable appearance of prosperity, as if the solid worth from
within shone heavily through.

"Lofty's couldn't move and Ersten wouldn't," supplemented Constance.

"Not that Dutchman!" returned Polly, laughing again as she peered
into the low dark windows of the ladies' tailoring shop. "I was in
the other day, and he told me three times that he would be right
there to make my walking frocks for the next thirteen years."

"He was having a quarrel with Mr. Schnitt about the light in the
workroom when I was in," observed Constance, "but he told me the
same thing, in his enjoyable German way, and he seemed almost angry
about it."

"That's the extent of his lease," guessed Johnny shrewdly. "They're