One evening when Big Kennedy and I were closeted over some enterprise of politics, that memorable exquisite, young Morton, was announced. He greeted us with his old-time vacuity of lisp and glance, and after mounting that double eyeglass, so potent with the herd, he said: “Gentlemen, I've come to make some money.” CHAPTER XIV--THE MULBERRY FRANCHISE THAT'S my purpose in a nutshell,” lisped young Morton; “I've decided to make some money; and I've come for millions.” Here he waved a delicate hand, and bestowed upon Big Kennedy and myself his look of amiable inanity. “Millions, eh?” returned Big Kennedy, with his metallic grin. “I've seen whole fam'lies taken the same way. However, I'm glad you're no piker.” “If by 'piker,'” drawled young Morton, “you mean one of those cheap persons who play for minimum stakes, I assure you that I should scorn to be so described; I should, really! No, indeed; it requires no more of thought or effort to play for millions than for ten-dollar bills.” “An' dead right you are!” observed Big Kennedy with hearty emphasis. “A sport can buck faro bank for a million as easily as for a white chip. That is, if he can find a game that'll turn for such a bundle, an' has th' money to back his nerve. What's true of faro is true of business. So you're out for millions! I thought your old gent, who's into fifty enterprises an' has been for as many years, had long ago shaken down mankind for a whole mountain of dough. The papers call him a multimillionaire.” Young Morton, still with the empty smile, brought forth a cigarette case. The case, gold, was adorned with a ruby whereon to press when one would open it, and wore besides the owner's monogram in diamonds. Having lighted a cigarette, he polished his eyeglass with a filmy handkerchief. Re-establishing the eyeglass on his high patrician nose, he again shone vacuously upon Big Kennedy. That personage had watched these manifestations of fastidious culture in a spirit of high delight. Big Kennedy liked young Morton; he had long ago made out how those dandyisms were no more than a cover for what fund of force and cunning dwelt beneath. In truth, Big Kennedy regarded young Morton's imbecilities as a most fortunate disguise. His remark would show as much. As young Morton--cigarette just clinging between his lips, eye of shallow good humor--bent towards him, he said, addressing me: “Say! get onto that front! That look of not knowin' nothin' ought by itself to cash in for half a million! Did you ever see such a throw-off?” and here Big Kennedy quite lost himself in a maze of admiration. Recovering, however, and again facing our caller, he repeated: “Yes, I thought your old gent had millions.”