"Why, my salary."

"How much is your salary, if you don't mind telling us?"

Galusha did not in the least mind. The figure he named seemed a small
one to his banking relative, used to big sums.

"Humph!" grunted the latter; "well, that isn't so tremendous. They don't
overpay you mummy-dusters, do they? And you really don't want me to send
you any more?"

"No, not if you're sure you don't mind."

"Oh, I don't mind. Then you want me to keep it and reinvest it for you;
is that it?"

"I--I think so. Yes, reinvest it or--ah--something."

"But you may need some of it occasionally. If you do you will notify me,
of course."

"Oh, yes; yes, indeed. Thank you very much. It's quite a weight off my
mind, really it is."

Cabot could not help laughing. Then a thought struck him.

"Did you bring back the check I sent you?" he asked. Galusha looked
somewhat confused.

"Why, why, no, I didn't," he admitted. "I had intended to, but you