"You professional chaps," says he to the Doc, "are such fine fellows to know. Ah, a bit crusty on the surface perhaps; but underneath--what big hearts! Delighted, Mr. Meyers! One can readily see how you translate good health into good nature. And I congratulate you both on being associated in such a splendid enterprise as this milk container scheme. Bound to be a big thing; for it is founded on the public good. Altruism always wins in the long run, you know, always." Doc he tries to sniff disagreeable, and Meyers grunts disapprovin'; but Alvin had 'em goin' for all that. You could tell by the satisfied way the grocer lights up a cigar, and the soothed actions of Fosdick. As the others drops in one by one, Alvin kept on spreadin' seeds of sunshine, and before the meetin' was called to order he was on chummy terms with nearly everyone in the room. The point of whether he was to stay or not wa'n't even raised. It was Manning, the real estate man, who sprung the new proposition. "That fool inventor Nevins," says he, "insists that if we can give him two weeks more and raise twenty-five thousand, he can perfect his machine and start manufacturing. Now if we could only find buyers for half those unsubscribed shares----" "Bah!" snorts Fosdick. "Hasn't Woodbury hawked 'em all over town? Why isn't he here now? Tell me that, will you? Because he's done with us! We're squeezed lemons, we are, and he can't find any more to squeeze!" "Pardon me," says Alvin, "but I wish to state that I believe fully in this enterprise. It's sound, it's scientific, it's progressive. And while as a rule I don't go in for speculative investments, I shall be very glad, in this instance, providing you all agree to stand by and see it through with me, to take--say ten thousand shares at par. In fact, I stand ready to write a check for the full amount this minute. What do you say?" Well, we gasps and gawps at Alvin like so many orphan asylum kids when Santa Claus bounces in at the Christmas exercises. Manning gets his breath back first. "Gentlemen," says he, "isn't this offer worth considering? Let's see, did I get your name right, Mr.--er----" "Alvin Pratt Barton," says our Santa Claus. "Pratt Barton?" repeats Manning. "Any connection with the brokerage firm of that name?" Alvin shrugs his shoulders and smiles. "The late Mr. Barton was my father," says he. "Mr. Pratt is my uncle by marriage. But I am doing this on my own initiative, you know. I should like an expression of opinion." Say, he got it! Inside of three minutes we'd voted unanimous to hold on for two months longer, made Alvin vice president of the comp'ny, and his check has been handed over to the treasurer, which is me. Then he'd shaken hands hearty with each one, patted 'em on the back, and even got Doc Fosdick smilin' amiable as he leaves.