of life—the grudging of credit. "I see; I see. Do you propose engaging in a new venture?" "Just as often as I can find one," stated Johnny briskly. Mr. Close looked at him with stern disapproval. "That does not sound like a very stable frame of mind," he chided. "What do you propose to do first?" "A twenty-story hotel." "That runs into millions!" gasped Close, and reached out to touch a button upon his desk; but Johnny Gamble stayed that hand. "You're after my balance," he said. "It's twelve dollars and thirty-seven cents." "Well, you see, Mr. Gamble, under the circumstances—" hesitated Mr. Close. "I know," interrupted the applicant; "you can only say I'm good for twelve-thirty-seven. I don't ask you to back me. If anybody 'phones you, just say I'm a good boy." Mr. Close almost smiled again. "So far as the moral risk is concerned I shall have no hesitation in speaking most highly of you," he granted. "And don't laugh when you say it," Johnny admonished, smiling cheerfully, for he knew that Close always did better than he promised. "Tell them this, can't you?—I've banked with you for five years. I've run about a ton of money through your shop. I've been broke a dozen times and I never left a debt behind me. I've been trusted and I always made good. I guess you could say all that if you stopped to take a couple of breaths, couldn't you?" "I shall certainly say those things if I am asked about them," replied Mr. Close, considering them carefully, one by one. "Don't hesitate to refer to me. I'll do the best I conscientiously can for you." Johnny stood waiting for the stream of the traffic to stop for the cross-current, so that he could go over to the subway, when a big blue touring car stopped just in front of him, and the driver, a hearty young woman all in blue, including plumes and shoes, hailed him joyously. "Jump in, Johnny!" she invited. "I found a four-leaf clover this morning—and here I'm lucky already. Sammy, run into the drug store for some chocolates. Johnny,
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