you're getting along. Oh say, if you happen to see any novelties
that look good let us hear about them. But drop me a line, anyway.
We'll always be glad to hear from you. Well, good-by and good luck.
Sure and drop me a line."

In the corner which had been his home for eight years Mr. Wrenn
could not devise any new and yet more improved arrangement of
the wire baskets and clips and desk reminders, so he cleaned a
pen, blew some gray eraser-dust from under his iron ink-well
standard, and decided that his desk was in order; reflecting:

He'd been there a long time. Now he could never come back to
it, no matter how much he wanted to.... How good the manager
had been to him. Gee! he hadn't appreciated how considerut
Guilfogle was!

He started down the corridor on a round of farewells to the boys.
"Too bad he hadn't never got better acquainted with them,
but it was too late now. Anyway, they were such fine jolly
sports; they'd never miss a stupid guy like him."

Just then he met them in the corridor, all of them except
Guilfogle, headed by Rabin, the traveling salesman, and Charley
Carpenter, who was bearing a box of handkerchiefs with a large
green-and-crimson-paper label.

"Gov'nor Wrenn," orated Charley, "upon this suspicious occasion
we have the pleasure of showing by this small token of our
esteem our 'preciation of your untiring efforts in the
investigation of Mortimer R. Gugglegiggle of the Graft Trust