Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1913-06-01

Ne FOR JUNE 1. 1919
| because it looks to me more like thirty
| thousand than three, and then I'll give you
| receipt for it"
"A receipt! What for? l give you the
money-so-and you take it-so. You've
seen me give it, and if didn't trust you I'd
never let you touch it at ALL"
However, the bills were duly counted and
receipt literally forced into Fritz unwill-
ing hand. Two or three times he looked at
the paper as if of half mind to tear it up;
but at last he put it carelessly into his big
pocket, and patted Gregg on the back with
bright smile of relief. The counting of the
roll disclosed the reason for its size; there
were only few hundred-dollar bills in it,
most of the amount being in twenties and
tens. When it had been snapped with a
rubber band and wrapped in brown paper
it looked like the most ordinary of packages,
and Gregg tossed it into his grip.
At the door, to which Fritz followed him,
the old German made a low bow, "Goodby,
]. P. Morgan" he said.
A S soon as he reached the hotel Gregg had
"A the bundle deposited in the Office safe
with simple "Just keep that for me,
please" and then permitted himself deep
and welcome breath. A few minutes later,
when busy over his order book in the cheer
less waiting room, bellboy interrupted him
with another brown paper package, on the
outside of which was tied briefly addressed
note
"A young lady drove over from Elton
vile and left that for you this afternoon,
the boy explained. aShe said there wasn't
any answer"
In natural wonderment Gregg slipped the
80, Il.
MY DEAR Mr.. GREGG..Grandma wants me
to thank you very much for your kindness in
helping her on the train last Tuesday morning.
and to say that she got to Mortontown all
right. She says will you please accept this
little present. She made it herself.
We learned your name and address from
Mr.. Jim Orby the conductor, and I'm writing
this for my grandmother. who says she can t
write we'll enough to do it herself.
Yours very truly, ROSE BENTLY.
From the crumpled brown paper Gregg
took pincushion fashioned of red flannel in
imitation of fat tomato.
@Why, bless her old heart!" he said aloud
as he turned the gift about in his hand. Then
he read the note again, tucked it into his
pocket, and carefully rewrapped and tied the
pincushion in its paper. As he dropped 1t
into his bag he gave an embarrassed little
chuckle, and then quick glance about him
to make sure that no one had seen. After
that he went back to the order book.
A DOZEN or more travelling men who had
ia been selling that territory were in the
train when Gregg boarded it just at dusk
for the customary week at home in the
city. He swung upon the last car and found
a seat beside Bert Allwest, the shoeman. In
Gregg's grip, which he insisted upon holding
safe upon his knees, were Fritz's three thou
sand uncomfortable dollars.
@Well, Hen, what kind of week have you
had?"
"Why, Bert, I've had very good week.
How has everything been with your
Sine. Things are picking up around here.
Pretty soon we'll have weeks like those we
had two years ago. You remember those. 1t
takes little while for these people to loosen
up; but they'r getting better all the time.
For Gregg this was too rare an opportunl-
ty to be lost. He'd show Allwest how good
week he'd had! Opening his bag, he
fumbled about in it for Fritz's roll. He'd
spring that on Bert! He found the package,
drew it out, and began taking off the wrap
pings.
@You talk about good week, Bert"
The brown wrapping paper cracked and
fell away-and in Gregg's hand lay red
flannel tomato pincushion. For an instant
he regarded it in silence.
! dyes Bert I've had mighty good week.