uniform bad luck that his opponents developed for him an
increasing affection.

But all things have an end, and Friday morning broke clear and
hot.

"We'll hear from the old gentleman to-day, sure," he told Weeks at
breakfast. "He's regularity itself. The train despatchers set
their watches by him."

"Now that it has cleared off, we must look into the cocoanut
business," the consul announced. "I'll make you a rich man, Kirk."

"I'm rich, anyhow, or I will be. Money doesn't mean much to me."

"Your father is--many times a millionaire, isn't he?" Weeks'
little red eyes were very bright and curious. Kirk had seen that
look many times before and knew its meaning. Hence he replied
rather brusquely:

"So I believe." And a moment later declared his determination to
avail himself of the good weather and see something of the town.
The prospect of squaring his account with this fawning fat man
filled him with relief, and once away from the Consulate he stayed
until late in the afternoon. It was nearly dark when he strolled
in, to inquire:

"Well, did you get an answer?"

"Yes." Weeks fumbled excitedly through the papers on his desk.