As he planted himself down on the step, he delivered a mighty, resounding slap upon Oliver’s knee. “Aw, cut it out—cut it out,” grated Oliver. “Keep your trap closed, can’t you?” “What on earth are you talking about, Sammy?” cried Jane. “He’s talking through his hat—” “Out with it, Sammy, out with it,” counseled Mr. Sage, coming down the steps. Oliver groaned: “Oh, good Lord, deliver me!” “Say, what do you think, Mr. Sage—what do you think? Why, this chump here is the guy that lent Mrs. Bannester the money to—” “See here, Sam—this is my affair,” broke in Oliver gruffly. “It’s nobody’s business but my own. I made ’em swear on a stack of Bibles they’d never tell—” “Don’t blame them—don’t blame those nice old women,” broke in Sammy sternly. “It was not their fault. I put one over on ’em. I told ’em there was some talk of that check being phony and they’d better—” “It wasn’t a check,” said Oliver triumphantly. “It was cash—currency.” “That’s what they came back at me with, but I said I meant counterfeit and not forgery—slip of the tongue and so forth. That got ’em. They up and said they had known Oliver October Baxter since he was knee high to a duck, and—” “Oh, Oliver!” cried Jane. “Did you really do it? I could squeeze you to death for it. And you never told me—you never breathed a word—” “It was only about a thousand dollars,” mumbled Oliver. “And a little over,” he added quickly, noting Sammy’s expression. “It was my own money. I could do what I liked with it, couldn’t I? They used to bring eggs and butter and chickens and everything to my mother, and when she was sick they had me out to their farm and made me awfully happy and—But that’s neither here nor there. It was a low-down trick of yours, Sam, to—” “Sure it was,” agreed Sammy cheerfully. “But right there and then the destiny of the great American nation was shaped along new lines. Right then and there, Mr. Samuel Elias Parr saw a great light. The words were no sooner out of the mouth of old Mrs. Bannester—or maybe it was her sister—it doesn’t matter—when the boom was born! Yes, sir, the boom was hatched and—but, my God, we mustn’t—oh, excuse me, Mr. Sage, I keep forgetting that you—” “Pardon me, Sammy, but I am really quite curious to know why you apologize to me for your profanity and not to Jane, who, I assure you, is a young lady of considerable refinement and—” “That’s all right, sir,” Sammy assured him glibly. “I’ve got Jane covered with a sort of blanket apology—something like a blanket policy. Good for any time and any place. But as I was saying, we mustn’t let Joe Sikes and Silas Link get wise to all this. They’d raise Cain—spoil everything gabbing about that gypsy’s warning or whatever it was. Now, if we are foxy, we’ll catch the Democrats napping and, gee whiz! what a jolt we’ll give ’em next November! We’ll run four thousand votes ahead of Harding himself and—”