The Press., 1917-01-04
His Price It Turned Out to Be His Own, Not the
 Other Mans.
By CLARISSA MACKIE


 Skiff Rabcock was a self msAie man. That was his chief boast. One day after he had made this assertion one of the persons who heard it said to the other;
 s.Reckon he did make himself The Lord never would have made man like him.
 Skiff left school when he was nine years old.
 There were two things that Babcock coveted. The one was the most eN= pensive automobile he could buy. and the f1ashiest. The other was Celia Hart, a young milliner Celia was of the same sphere in life as Babcock, but she must have been made of different clay.
 He got the automobile, and 1t re- mained for him to get Celia Hart-if he could. The only thing in the way of his getting her so far as he knew was Tim Casey. Casey was in Bah- cocks employ, and Babcock considered that he owned every man he hired. It gaIled him to feel that this common workman,' as he called Casey, should be in the way of his getting anything he wanted. But Casey was far before him in Celia's affections, and he knew it. But it wasn't natural that this should be so. and he thought up way to change it-a way that only such q man as he would choose.
 For three succeeding days Skiff Bab- \cock had permitted his brand new red touring car to crawl along the street in the hope of meeting Celia as she went to or from the Inilliner's where she worked,
 Skiff could always pick Celia out of q hcrowd by the graceful swing of her slender. erect figllEa- but recently she had identified he~K beyond all doubt Ey perching q ct;fal cOlOrPd hat on he% abundant black hair.
 All at once Skiff's beady little eyes discerned her. First the coral hat came into view, then Celia's lovely laughing face and finally the hulking form of none other than MT. BabcOck'S head truck driver. who held Celia's el- bow in one big hand with most Offen sive air of proprietorship.
 Suddenly Slliff BabcOck whirled his machine around and dashed into an other street.
 An hour later he sat at his desk in the office of the Skitt Babcock Truck ing company. At the curbstOne his red car panted impatiently. Through the archway that connected the street with the stables behind his office his employees were passing to and fro.
 A haze of tobacco smoke blurred the little room. for Skiff was smoking ci- gar after cigar in a dogged. persistent way, very much as if he knew that when he reached the end Of certain number of those fragrant smokes he would find a solution to the problem that troubled him.
 All at once he flung half finished cigar through the window and pounde1 the desk heavily with one pudgy fist.
 Every man has his price," he said slowly. II wonder what is Casey's price?"
 Again he meditated.
 "A truckman," he snOrted scornful ly, "against me, who can turn every vote in this ward-me, with that auty- mobile and could dress her in dia- mOndS, with a flat in Central Park West. if she wanted it. The nerve of Tim Casey!'
 He rang bell sharply.
 "Has Casey come back?'' he asked of the boy who responded.
 "No. sir"
 ''Send him here when he comes. scowled Skiff and he lighted another cigar,
 By the time Tim Casey's huge bulk darkened the office doorway Skiff Bab- cock had smoked himself into a fit of cold anger. tempered only by his favor ite maxim that ''Every man has his price
 That this was true to a degree ill SlSiff Bahcock's political circle account ed for his self-confilence to settle the case of Tim Casey off hand.
 You wanted mel" erinned Tim Casey good naturedly
 Skiff drowned up at the big. hand some young Irishman. whose every muscle was tense with strenpth and vitality. Tim's blue eyes sparkled and his white teeth shone. Life was good sport to the hard working truck driver.
 II saw you on Sixth avenue this noon." blurted forth Skiff. This was not the way he had intended to open the subject.
 II guess I wasn't breaking no speed limits'' grinned Tim. ''That gray horse ain't got the grit to cart heavy dry goods He ought to be put on the