Now study the ways of the world, my son; oh, study the ways of life! It’s the hustling chap that gets the cash or the girl he wants for his wife; It’s the fellow that spots the place to grab, as Chance goes swinging by, Who gets his dab in the juiciest place and the biggest plum in the pie. --Philosophy of S. Peak. It was almost the first of the warming days of April. Muddy little brooks ran beside the highway, robins bounced along the turf, the waves in the Cove sparkled in the mellow sunshine, and the silver poplars in the Look dooryard bristled with catkins as long as one’s finger. One of them dropped lightly upon the knee of the abstracted Hiram Look, sitting in his chair on the porch, and he jumped and cuffed it, thinking it was a green worm. “First spring I’ve seen them things for a good many years,” he growled, squinting up into the branches. “For that matter, it’s the first spring I’ve seen a good many things,” he added bitterly. He slouched down in his chair, his hat-brim low over his eyes, smoked his long cigar and watched the approach of Simon Peak, who was picking his way up the muddy road. “There’s thirty-seven of ’em to-day, Hime,” said Simon, tossing a packet of letters into the showman’s lap. “Some of ’em’s fat, and there ought to be con-sid’able good readin’ for us.” He licked his lips expectantly. Hiram joggled down the contents of an envelope and nipped off the edge with broad nails. He passed the contents over to Peak, who fixed his spectacles on his nose and promptly began to read aloud, his general air showing that this was a regular daily programme. **** “‘Look & Peak--Gents: Seeing your ad. respecting show you are going to start out with in near future, I would like side-show privilege for my wife, who is the celebrated Fat Emma, with beard two feet long. She---- “Nothing to it!” growled Hiram, breaking in with disgust. “Tear it up.” “But there’s some kind of funny stuff about her here,” appealed Simon, running his eye down the page. “It makes good readin’.” “Frame it, then, if you want to,” retorted the showman gruffly. “I don’t want to listen to no such sculch.” He was nipping at the edge of another envelope. Simon took advantage of the pause. “I see your brother steppin’ into Judge Willard’s office same as usual this noon,” he said. “He can step into Tophet three times a day and fry steak if he wants to,” snapped Hiram ungraciously. “Well, you asked me to keep tabs on him when I see him go in there, and I’m doin’ it, ain’t I? I don’t see no need of yappin’ my head off when I’m tellin’ you what you wanted me to tell you.” Simon was plainly indignant. “You show altogether too much relish for stickin’ your nose into other folks’ bus’ness,” said Hiram, still in bad temper.