The Birmingham age-herald., 1923-07-08
THE W|LL0UGHBY'S
 FORTUNE
By WALTER SCOTT STORY

John Willoughby, bank clerk, had otten pondered upon this subject. Like many another man he was sick and tired of trying to make both ends meet on small salary.
 One afternoon in May, he came to his four room flat more than ever disgusted with things as they were and almost determined to make a move to change his condition.
 "seeger's bill is here, John." an nounced Violet, his wife, as he was settling down to read his paper. As matter of fact, the bill had come ten days before. Wives will under stand this. You know for my blue silk dress"
 How much?" queried John. suc- cinctly.
 Only s63,27. It was marked down, you know"
 John breathed word fervently-a short one. His economic scheme for the month wobbled
 In few moments. however, he grinned gamely; then he drew serious face.
 t"Say, Violet" he declared, I'm tired of owing everybody, counting every dCg-goned cent, scrimping, dollar do for ten. We've just got to make money some way"
 T don't see why you cant make money, John," said Violet, earnestly. You have as much brains as a good many of our friends who have every thing, and-ytu're much nicer. Why, look at Henry Kirtland!-a lot of them do it in real estate, don't they? Two always heard that real estate You always say so."
 Yes" agreed John, with a hus- bandly grin.
 We've got seven hundred dollars in the bank" said Violet, sitting down upon his lap. Her silk skirt rustled. John liked that crisp sound; i; It made him think of real money.
 That's for rainy day." he said, seriously, almost rebukingly, as If Violet had suggested laying hands on the ark. Its taken us six years to save it."
 Its misty now" remarked Violet.
 "pll say so," admitted John, trifle bitterly. It's no great delight to feel that your wife thinks you un- equal to the task of making money for her-the elusive sufficiently. But we mustn't touch it." he added, with finality.
 All right" Violet agreed with him in way that made it clear she thought differently. If you're a mar ried man, you know how she spoke. Day after day went by, and John and Violet, after many discussions. began to think that they ought to risk the rainy day egg in some ven ture. Johns feet grew warm.
 The outcome of 1t was that John drew six hundred dollars from the bank and sank it in some mud hole over on Long Island. You should have seen the deed. It was as good as legal phraseology could make it and nailed down by proper recording; and it was embellished with green and gold printing. It was fine!
 Many time John and Violet talked about "their land"-mostly marsh-and contemplated automo- piles and diamonds and mansions. their wealth. In fact, these talks were the only dividends likely to come from the investment-as they very soon realized.
 When 1t became clear that they had been fleeced by a smooth tongue and by their own eagerness they were angry, of course.-with each other. The household gods wept.
 T didn't think you were a fool, John," said Violet, calmly, in a way indicating that had long been sure tf 1t.
 I've known it for seven years, seven very long years" retorted John, sarcastically, plainly referring to the time he has assumed the matrimonial bond.
 After an hour or two, however, they made up, each at the moment trying to take the blame.
 About this time Yiolet's Uncle Joseph, of Plaintown, Vt, discarded the flesh and left Johns wife enc thousand dollars blasted out of the granite hills of that rugged state.
 Shall we invest it?" queried John, half serious.
 "No," returned Violet. promptly. 'Ill put it in the bank in my own name. don't throw money away" Violet put her money in the bank. Then time went on as before. John worked on in his little cage and put aside five or ten dollars month when he could.
 One day, however, he came into the apartment with his face aglow with delight.
 What dye thlnk, glrl! ne cried, almost sang, as he hugged his nine tenths in exuberance. What dye think!"
 Whats the matter, John?" asked Violet, quietly. Do be careful!- you're mussing my hair! You're a regular bear!"
 "A man came to the bank to see me today" said John. He paused for dramatic effect.
 "A collector?" queried Violet. whimsically.
 'No," laughed John. Not that. A fellow came and offered me six hundred and fifty dollars for our land!" he declared, triumphantly. "Didn't tell you 1t would sell some times?'
 "pid you tell him how poor it was?"
 "Ha." exclaimed John. "Yes, did. I was honest. l said 1t was in the wf1ds and mostly marsh, but smiled. He was hot to buy it." John went into details of his talk. Now. shall we sell or hold for a bigger rise, violet?'' queried the great spec ulator. grandly.
 "why. sell. John. of course. But then.-it's your land. Do just as you think best"
 John sold, and boasted here and there that he had made money in real estate. He let people guess the amount. As a matter of fact, his net profit was less than three dollars.
 About three months after the sale he came home again in an excited state, but far from triumphant. He hurled himself into a chair-a big, easy chair.
 "What's the trouble, dear?" asked Violet, perching on the arm of the chair and smiling upon her lord.