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“Some few clients called in person. We sent ’em to Mrs. Trotter and she did the rest; except for three or four who came back to strike us for carfare. After the letters began to get in from the r.f.d. districts Andy and me were taking in about $200 a day.

“One afternoon when we were busiest and I was stuffing the two and ones into cigar boxes and Andy was whistling ‘No Wedding Bells for Her’ a small slick man drops in and runs his eye over the walls like he was on the trail of a lost Gainesborough painting or two. As soon as I saw him I felt a glow of pride, because we were running our business on the level.

“‘I see you have quite a large mail to-day,’ says the man.

“I reached and got my hat.

“‘Come on,’ says I. ‘We’ve been expecting you. I’ll show you the goods. How was Teddy when you left Washington?’

“I took him down to the Riverview Hotel and had him shake hands with Mrs. Trotter. Then I showed him her bank book with the $2,000 to her credit.

“‘It seems to be all right,’ says the Secret Service.

“‘It is,’ says I. ‘And if you’re not a married man I’ll leave you to talk a while with the lady. We won’t mention the two dollars.’

“‘Thanks,’ says he. ‘If I wasn’t, I might. Good day, Mrs. Peters.’

“Toward the end of three months we had taken in something over $5,000, and we saw it was time to quit. We had a good many complaints made to us; and Mrs. Trotter seemed to be tired of the job. A good many suitors had been calling to see her, and she didn’t seem to like that.

“So we decides to pull out, and I goes down to Mrs. Trotter’s hotel to pay her last week’s salary and say farewell and get her check for the $2,000.

“When I got there I found her crying like a kid that don’t want to go to school.

“‘Now, now,’ says I, ‘what’s it all about? Somebody sassed you or you getting homesick?’

“‘No, Mr. Peters,’ says she. ‘I’ll tell you. You was always a friend of Zeke’s, and I don’t mind. Mr. Peters, I’m in love. I just love a man so hard I can’t bear not to get him. He’s just the ideal I’ve always had in mind.’

“‘Then take him,’ says I. ‘That is, if it’s a mutual case. Does he return the sentiment according to the specifications and painfulness you have described?’

“‘He does,’ says she. ‘But he’s one of the gentlemen that’s been coming to see me about the advertisement and he won’t marry me unless I give him the $2,000. His name is William Wilkinson.’ And then she goes off again in the agitations and hysterics of romance.

“‘Mrs. Trotter,’ says I, ‘there’s no man more sympathizing with a woman’s affections than I am. Besides, you was once the life partner of one of my best friends. If it was left to me I’d say take this $2,000 and the man of your choice and be happy.

“‘We could afford to do that, because we have cleaned up over $5,000 from these suckers that wanted to marry you. But,’ says I, ‘Andy Tucker is to be consulted.

“‘He is a good man, but keen in business. He is my equal partner financially. I will talk to Andy,’ says I, ‘and see what can be done.’

“I goes back to our hotel and lays the case before Andy.

“‘I was expecting something like this all the time,’ says Andy. ‘You can’t trust a woman to stick by you in any scheme that involves her emotions and preferences.’

“‘It’s a sad thing, Andy,’ says I, ‘to think that we’ve been the cause of the breaking of a woman’s heart.’

“‘It is,’ says Andy, ‘and I tell you what I’m willing to do, Jeff. You’ve always been a man of a soft and generous heart and disposition. Perhaps I’ve been too hard and worldly and suspicious. For once I’ll meet you half way. Go to Mrs. Trotter and tell her to draw the $2,000 from the bank and give it to this man she’s infatuated with and be happy.’

“I jumps up and shakes Andy’s hand for five minutes, and then I goes back to Mrs. Trotter and tells her, and she cries as hard for joy as she did for sorrow.

“Two days afterward me and Andy packed up to go.

“‘Wouldn’t you like to go down and meet Mrs. Trotter once before we leave?’ I asks him. ‘She’d like mightily to know you and express her encomiums and gratitude.’

“‘Why, I guess not,’ says Andy. ‘I guess we’d better hurry and catch that train.’

“I was strapping our capital around me in a memory belt like we always carried it, when Andy pulls a roll of large bills out of his pocket and asks me to put ’em with the rest.

“‘What’s this?’ says I.

“‘It’s Mrs. Trotter’s two thousand,’ says Andy.

“‘How do you come to have it?’ I asks.

“‘She gave it to me,’ says Andy. ‘I’ve been calling on her three evenings a week for more than a month.’

“‘Then are you William Wilkinson?’ says I.

“‘I was,’ says Andy.”