handled to the advantage of all.  I could cite, perhaps, a hundred cases of similar importance, would time permit.  As for the present, you are aware that England is building several great men-of-war to restore its navy to its previous supremacy.  The contracts for this work have been placed in the hands of the Consolidated Companies.  Our political strength was tested in a small way two years ago in causing a cessation of hostilities between Austria and her neighbors.  We shall be strong enough before the war cloud gathers too heavily over England and Germany to prevent the grievous calamity which threatens these nations.  Shall I give you other data?”

“But the Consolidated Companies separates the world into two parts—­” the Senator began.

“Precisely—­into those who are stockholders and those who are not.  Both are benefited by the existence of the corporation.  But is there any question as to which is the more favored class?”

“None whatever,” Kenmore replied, with decision.

“Then may I call to-morrow to learn in which class you decide to place yourself?” Gorham asked, as he rose and slipped into his overcoat.

“No,” the Senator replied, after a moment’s thought.  “I will send my secretary to you to arrange the matter of taking over stock to the amount of one hundred thousand dollars in the Consolidated Companies—­Unlimited!”

III

If punctuality is a virtue presaging business success, Allen gave evidence, the following afternoon, of a brilliant future.  Previously, he had made no criticism of the condition in which his motor-car was delivered to him at the garage, but this time the men found him strangely unreasonable.  The brasses had to be repolished, the hood opened up, and the dust wiped from the long-neglected creases, and every detail was inspected with a carefulness which created comment.

“Goin’ to sell his car,” one of the men remarked, sententiously, to which sage comment his companion nodded acquiescence.

In spite of the delay thus caused, Allen shut off his power in front of the hotel entrance at exactly the appointed hour.  He bounded into the lobby, and a few moments later was ushered into the elevator and guided to the Gorhams’ apartment.

“Why, it’s Riley!” the caller exclaimed, enthusiastically, as the door was opened for him by Mr. Gorham’s aged retainer—­“it’s the same Riley who used to box my ears when I tramped over his flower-beds in Pittsburgh.”

The old man regarded the visitor attentively.  “Shure it’s Misther Allen Sanford, grown out iv his short pants into a fine young man, so he has.”  A broad grin replaced the questioning expression on his face.  “I did box ye’er ears good, didn’t I, sor? but go along wid yer, th’ trouble ye made me, ye an’ Miss Alice a-traipsin’ over me flower-beds.”  Then, with a sigh:  “Ah, sor, I remimber it as if ’twas yisterday.  Miss Alice’s mother was livin’ thin, God rist her soul.  Thank ye, sor, f’r remimberin’ me.  I’ll call Mrs. Gorham an’ Miss Alice.”