for the presence of a barmaid who presided over a counter in a corner near the fire, and Wedgwood after an exchange of civilities with her, picked up a local newspaper that lay near and glanced over its contents. There he once more encountered the prospectus of the Mortover Main Colliery Company, and for the third or fourth time re-read it. He had just laid the paper aside again when a couple of men of the prosperous tradesman type bustled in, greeted the barmaid with the easy familiarity of regular customers, and arming themselves with liquid refreshment, lighted cigars and relapsed into elbow chairs to take their ease. One of them picked up the newspaper which Wedgwood had laid down: the Mortover Main prospectus face uppermost. He drew his companion's attention to it.
"See they've got that Mortover Colliery advertisement in here," he observed. "Spending a tidy lot in advertising! It's in all the London papers this morning."
"Manchester papers, too," said the other man. "Going in for it?"
"Well, I don't know—at least, I don't know about applying for shares straight off," replied the first. "They'll be on the market, you know. Are you?"
"I think I shall go in for a few," said the
