Thursday, the expected happened—and a brisk little man, with a mustache which would have been highly luxuriant if he had not kept it bitten off as closely as he could reach it, dropped in, inquired for Loring, jerked a chair as close to him as he could get it and said, in one breath: "Want to sell your river-view property?" 

 "Certainly," replied Loring, in whose name the property stood. "Mr. Gamble is handling that for me. Mr. Chase, Mr. Gamble." 

 Mr. Chase, holding to his chair, jumped up, hurried over to Johnny and once more jerked the chair close up. 

 "How much do you want for it?" he asked. 

 "Two hundred and seventy-five thousand." 

 "Too much. I understand it's restricted to apartment-house purposes alone?" 

 "Yes." 

 "Not less than ten stories, and a minimum rental of three thousand dollars a suite?" 

 "Yes." 

 "You can't sell it for that price with those restrictions." 

 "We can build on it," replied Johnny calmly. 

 "You won't," asserted Mr. Chase with equal conviction. "You bought it to sell. I'll give you two hundred and fifty thousand." 

 "No," refused Johnny quite bravely, though with a panicky feeling as he thought of that appallingly swift schedule. 

 "All right," said Chase. "I'll hold the offer open at that figure for forty-eight hours. I think you'll come to it." 

 "I doubt it," responded Johnny, smiling; but he was afraid he would. 

 In less than an hour he received an unexpected call from Mrs. Guff, who was in such secret agitation that she quivered like jelly whenever she breathed. 

 "Mr. Guff and myself have decided to take Miss Purry's river-view property off your hands, Mr. Gamble," was the glad tidings she conveyed to him, smiling to share his delight. "We can't think of letting that 

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