As the days went by, Sidney's friendship with Edwards developed to the point, where Edwards insisted upon paying half the rent for the privilege of loafing in the office whenever he was at leisure. Sidney did not inquire his business, or what he was engaged in; but his curiosity was aroused nevertheless. His friend always had plenty of money and spent it not foolishly, but freely. He never permitted Wyeth to pay for anything, and he never ate a meal that came to less than two dollars. After a few days, another fellow joined him, who, while surrounded with an air of mystery, did not happen to possess so much apparent education. His name was Smyles, and he purported to be from Boston. At the same time acknowledged Alabama to be his birth place. He still carried the accent. He was dark of visage, had long legs, and wore trousers around them, which appeared never to have been pressed. (Wyeth wondered why some of the many pressing clubs did not kidnap him alive.) His head was small and obviously hard, and he wore his top hair so closely cropped, that no one could quite describe what kind it was. Now Smyles was a sport, likewise a spender, and, moreover, with money a-plenty to spend. And, as the days passed and Wyeth became better acquainted with him, he learned that he was "mashed" on the girls to a considerable degree. For instance: There was Lucy, who waited on them at Miss Payne's cafe, who got "crazy" about him. He did about her, too, for awhile, at least he pretended to. Then he became interested likewise in another who had "better hair" than Lucy. Thereupon Lucy became "mad" with jealousy, and threatened to do something "awful." She didn't, so we leave her to her fate, and go on with Smyles who becomes, for the present, the hero of this story. "Smyles is a great fellow," remarked Sidney humorously to Edwards, one day. "Isn't he the limit?" said Edwards, with a touch of disgust. "All the girls are liking him," resumed Sidney, enjoying the conversation and discussion. "Takes with all the kitchen mechanics, and anything else that wears a skirt." Edwards had dignity, a great deal of it, Wyeth had come now to know. He was plainly disgusted. Sidney went on. "Has lots of money to spend, which makes it exceedingly convenient." "He's the luckiest coon in town," said Edwards thoughtfully. "Indeed!" "Shoots craps I think." "And wins, evidently." That Wyeth might not gather an adverse opinion of him--or rather, a questionable one, Edwards had informed him that he was connected with a northern philanthropic organization. Wyeth assumed that he was connected with something of the kind, and that he was actually the recipient of plenty of the dispensation. Every Monday he would go uptown, and return with a roll. Most of this would be spent by the next Monday, which was unusual. He didn't gamble, but better light will be thrown on this later. * * * * *