"Well," said the other, meditatively; "I have not fully decided as yet. It depends largely upon whether you can be brought to see the great advantage you would gain by coming in." "But what little I represent--which surely isn't much--is tied up in the book business. How much will this thing cost?" Slim winked wisely, held his head low, and whispered it into his ear. "Twenty-five dollars." "I'll think it over," said Wyeth, feigning seriousness. The next day, Slim had forgotten all about the grocery business, but tore into the office in an ecstasy of delight and secrecy. He had discovered something else. It was a soda fountain, rather, it was some old fixtures. When the drug store below had been moved into the new building, they had stored their old fixtures in an empty store room near. The same had been vacant for ten years, but Slim happened by, and saw a grand opportunity at a glance. He told this to Sidney, with much feeling. "It's the greatest proposition of a decade! We can buy those fixtures for a song, rent the place they are in cheap, move the office up there, and conduct a book store and soda fountain in connection." His eyes opened wide, as he revealed the magnitude of the proposition. "Can't do it, Slim. It's too big. Guess I'll have to stick to books." The other took on a disappointed expression. "It's the chance of a life time," he said, with plain regret, and continued to look the part. "I thought you were down here to make money, and when I go out and find something that's an Eldorado, I cannot enlist you. You are making a serious mistake, and will regret it some day." That was all for that day, but the next day he was mysterious. He didn't, however, "put" Wyeth next to this, but, on the quiet, he met others on the street below, where, at some length, they discussed a restaurant and hotel business, to be duly incorporated, and an office and a management to be appointed. Mrs. Lautier made known to Wyeth the inner secrets of this the next day. "I'm certainly disappointed in you, Mr. Wyeth," said Slim, one day soon after, very grievously. "How's that, Professor?" inquired the other, with assumed concern. "You never seem to consider seriously, the many good propositions I have discovered, and have offered to you for investment." "Do you yourself?" "I could make a bunch of money if you would come in," he repeated artfully, but ignored the direct question. The next day, he was more artful than ever. He was, indeed, full of another proposition. He smiled as he told his friend. "I'm going to marry that woman out there," he said, low and confidentially. "On Fourteenth?" the other echoed cheerfully, returning a sincere smile. "That's where you're a man. That'll sure be dandy. When?" "Oh, not yet a-while, not until I get a divorce from the last one." "Oh--then. M-m. So you've been married already, rather, you are."