He turned away, bumped into the partition, begged its pardon most humbly; walked into a young woman who was approaching with a basketful of letters; distributed wisdom all over the office; got spoken to plainly; tried to help the young woman collect the flying sheets, and got spoken to still more sharply; slid down the first four steps outside, landed in the street in some fashion, and then galloped toward a sign indicative of a life-saving station. After safely embarking on a schooner he retired to a corner and examined the ten promises of our government for twenty dollars per promise, at leisure. They were so. Boldly he slapped one upon the bar. Doubtfully the barkeeper opened his cash-drawer. “No good,” thought Jimmie, thinking this an act of suspicion. But it was not. “Say, young feller,” said the barkeeper, “it’s pretty early in the day to clean me out of change. Ain’t you got nothing smaller than that?” From its lonesome abiding-place at the bottom of a pocket filled with tobacco-dust, Jimmie fished out a quarter--that one piece of Mr. Bryan’s philosophy which he had imagined to be all that stood between him and a joyless wait for pay-day. “All right,” said he. This proof that it was inability and not contempt that had shown in the barkeeper’s eyes burned in James’ heart like a little flame. He took out one twenty-dollar bill and put it in a separate pocket. Twenty dollars he could understand. He then made for the barns, wondering what man it was whose legs carried him so jauntily. This was the beginning of the great mystery--the disappearance of Car 809. How so large and eminently practical a thing as a trolley car--a thing so blatantly modern and, withal, so hard and heavy--could vanish from the face of the earth, and leave neither track nor rack behind, was a problem that caused silver threads to appear amid the gold and bald spots of the officers of the Suburban Trolley Company. With it went the motorman and conductor; gone; vanished; vamoosed; dissipated into thin air. The thing was, and then it was not. That is all they ever knew about it. The facts are these: When James arrived in the yard he approached his running-mate and poked him in the chest with a dramatic forefinger. The running-mate looked at the forefinger and then at James. “Changed your spots again?” he inquired. “Nup,” said James, hitting himself mightily upon the chest. “Here is Willie Wally Astor, and that’s me.” “Grounded again?” sniffed the conductor. “Where do you feel it worst?” “There ain’t any worst,” said Jimmie. “You come here!”--and he seized him by the collar. “Leggo!” said the conductor, but at the same time permitting himself to be jammed into a corner while the golden tale of sudden wealth was poured into his ears. “Ah, g’wan!”--but the tones grew weaker and weaker, and when Jimmie produced his little pamphlet on high finance, printed in green--proof to any eye--the conductor fell upon his neck.