smiling over the thought of Lapham, whose burly simplicity had peculiarly amused him.  "He regularly turned himself inside out to me," he said, as he sat describing his interview to Marcia. 

 "Then I know you could make something nice out of it," said his wife; "and that will please Mr. Witherby." 

 "Oh yes, I've done pretty well; but I couldn't let myself loose on him the way I wanted to. Confound the limitations of decency, anyway! I should like to have told just what Colonel Lapham thought of landscape advertising in Colonel Lapham's own words. I'll tell you one thing, Marsh: he had a girl there at one of the desks that you wouldn't let ME have within gunshot of MY office. Pretty? It ain't any name for it!" Marcia's eyes began to blaze, and Bartley broke out into a laugh, in which he arrested himself at sight of a formidable parcel in the corner of the room. 

 "Hello! What's that?" 

 "Why, I don't know what it is," replied Marcia tremulously.  "A man brought it just before you came in, and I didn't like to open it." 

 "Think it was some kind of infernal machine?" asked Bartley, getting down on his knees to examine the package.  "MRS. B. Hubbard, heigh?" He cut the heavy hemp string with his penknife.  "We must look into this thing. I should like to know who's sending packages to Mrs. Hubbard in my absence." He unfolded the wrappings of paper, growing softer and finer inward, and presently pulled out a handsome square glass jar, through which a crimson mass showed richly.  "The Persis Brand!" he yelled.  "I knew it!" 

 "Oh, what is it, Bartley?" quavered Marcia. Then, courageously drawing a little nearer: "Is it some kind of jam?" she implored.  "Jam? No!" roared Bartley.  "It's PAINT! It's mineral paint--Lapham's paint!" 

 "Paint?" echoed Marcia, as she stood over him while he stripped their wrappings from the jars which showed the dark blue, dark green, light brown, dark brown, and black, with the dark crimson, forming the gamut of colour of the Lapham paint.  "Don't TELL me it's paint that I can use, Bartley!" 

 "Well, I shouldn't advise you to use much of it--all at once," replied her husband.  "But it's paint that you can use in moderation." 

 Marcia cast her arms round his neck and kissed him.  "O Bartley, I think I'm the happiest girl in the world! I was just wondering what I should do. There are places in 

 Prev. P 17/309 next