is enough to worry about."

"Where is Harold?" exclaimed Bob.

"Down at the armory," said Mrs. Cook. "I wish it was all over."

"I wonder if I can go down and see him," said Bob eagerly.

"Perhaps," said his mother. "I don't know." She turned away and Bob
hurried out of the house and turned his steps towards the garage. His
plan was to get his bicycle and ride down to the armory. He entered the
garage just in time to see Heinrich, the chauffeur, stuffing a large roll
of bills into his pocket.

"Whew, Heinie!" he exclaimed. "Where did you get all the money?"

Heinrich seemed much embarrassed at being thus interrupted and colored
violently. "Golly," said Bob, "I never saw so much money in all my life."

"Dot's not so much," said Heinrich. "Besides it iss mine."

"I didn't say it wasn't," laughed Bob.

Heinrich Muller was the Cooks' chauffeur. He was a German, as his name
implies, but he had been in the United States for over twenty years and
had originally come into the employ of the Cook family as a coachman.
Then when the automobile had taken the place of the horse to such a large
extent he had been converted into a chauffeur.

He was a mild mannered, quiet little man, and had always been a prime