gen approximating to nebulum he'll come east and have a talk with me!"
The old Major smiled pensively.
"Yes, I remember what he said when the Rubber Trust swallowed up my little Congolo Company and squeezed me out after I'd squeezed out the original Amsterdammers: 'The oysters eat the diatoms, and we eat the oysters!' It makes me wish, Teddie, that I could be a philosopher now and then."
"I wish women could be," remarked Teddie.
"Then why not make a stab at it," ventured the old gentleman who had been so intently studying her averted face, "by telling me what the trouble is?"
"There's really nothing to tell, Uncle Chandler," solemnly asserted the young lady with the moody eyes, drawing the striped ticking of reticence over the brocaded injustices of youth.
The old Major tossed away his cigarette. He sat staring at the poor little rich girl in the willow lawn-chair. He stared at her so long and so intently that she finally
