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He's in for another spell. I gets his heart specialist on the 'phone and loads Mr. Ellins into a taxi. Just before closin' time he calls up from the house to say that he's off to the sanitarium for another treatment and may be gone a couple of weeks. I must tell Mr. Robert about those options, have him sub. in at the next directors' meetin', and do a lot of odd jobs that he'd left unfinished.

"Remember to speak softly in the dining room." "All right, Doc," says Mr. Ellins; "but I want a cocktail." "Tut, tut, brother!" says the Doc, liftin' a warnin' finger and raisin' his eyebrows. "No intoxicating liquors served here, you know. Now a glass of nice buttermilk is just what " "Bah! Buttermilk!" snorts Hickory. "Think I come from a dairy?"

And now Do you think this can be the same Mr. Ellins? He sent you to me, did he not? Did he mention anything about " "Not a word except business," says I. "And I must say that performance don't sound much like the boss." "Ah!" says the old girl, sighin' relieved. "I am glad to hear you say so. I should not care to have any dealings with him."

First time I'd ever been there out of office hours; but the maid says Mr. Ellins is takin' his coffee in the lib'ry and she'd see if he'd let me in. Ah, sure he did, and we gets right down to cases. "Remember how that assistant general manager stiff of yours fell down on that public lands deal when you sent him to Washington last month?" says I.

Here they were, though, gathered in Auntie's drawin'-room, and if the idea of the meetin' wasn't to hear details about the trip, what was it? I was expectin' Auntie to have the foldin' doors shut and an executive session called; but she either forgot we was there, or else she was too excited to notice it, for the next thing we knew she was callin' on Mr. Ellins to state the proposition.

"Know anything about industrial welfare work, young man?" demands Old Hickory of him. "I've seen it mentioned in magazine articles," says Brink, "but that's about all. Don't think I ever read one." "So much the better," says Mr. Ellins. "You'll have a chance to start in fresh, with your own ideas." "I I beg pardon?" says Brink, starin' puzzled.

Ellins and get him to sign up." "Eh?" says Old Hickory, starin'. "And you played him off against Matt. Dowd? You impertinent young rascal! But I say, Robert, you should have seen and heard 'em. It was rich. They nearly talked each other to a standstill." "Then I gather, Torchy," says Mr. Robert, grinnin', "that the king of book agents now sits on a tottering throne.

"Oh, I've taken out a butt-in license," says I. "I'm on, Miss Ellins. I wa'n't invited to the rehearsal; but I was there." "Listening outside?" says she. "Uh-huh," says I. "Oh, Torchy!" says she. "Did you hear how lovely the professor talked of the way I did it?" "About your havin' Julia Marlowe sewed in a sack? Sure thing," says I. "But you mustn't tell anyone," says she.

Ellins?" says I, handin' it over. It's written sort of scrawly and foreign on swell stationery and Old Hickory don't get many of that kind, as you can guess. He reads it clear through, though, without even a grunt. Then he waves me into a chair. "As it happens, Torchy," says he, "this was meant for no one but me." "My error," says I. "I didn't read it, though."

"Now we will go back to the yacht and get some sleep," announces Auntie. "I've had treasure hunting enough for one night. So have you, Matthew Ellins, if you only knew it." Old Hickory shrugs his shoulders. He drops the spade. Then he lets go of a yawn. "Oh, well!" says he. "If that's the way you feel about it." "What!" says Vee. "Go another whole day without knowing whether "