gone; and his own mouth drooped and drooped. It was a tense moment.

"You see, Pudge," Billy began in some embarrassment, only to conclude
rather sharply, "I'll have to ask Mr. Humphrey. Your sister said we
weren't----"

"Oh, well!" sighed Pudge. Getting down from the stool he waddled slowly out
of the store.

It was no use going up against old Humphrey. He had tried that. He went as
far as the fire-plug, close to the corner, and sank down upon it. Everybody
was against him. He would sit here awhile and think it over. Perhaps he
could figure out some way of breaking through the conspiracy. Then Mr.
Martin Jaffry drove up to the curb and he had to move his legs. Mr. Jaffry
said, "Hello, Pudge," too. It was all deeply annoying.

Meantime, during the past half-hour, the law offices of Remington and Evans
were not lacking in the sense of life and activity. Things began moving
when Penny Evans (christened Penfield) came back from lunch. He wore an
air--Betty Sheridan noted, from her typewriter desk within the rail--of
determination. His nod toward herself was distinctly brusque; a new quality
which gave her a moment's thought. And then when he had hung up his hat and
was walking past her to his own private office, he indulged in a faint,
fleeting grin.

Betty considered him. She had known Penny Evans as long as she could
remember knowing anybody; and she had never seen him look quite as he
looked this afternoon.

The buzzer sounded. It was absurd, of course; nobody else in the office. He