med full at George G. Goodchild, Esq., a look of intense astonishment. -Get out!- repeated the president. Hendrik Rutgers turned like a flash to the cashier and said, sharply: -Didn't you hear? Get out!- -You!- shouted Mr. George G. Goodchild. -Who? Me?- Hendrik's incredulity was abysmal. -Yes! You!- And the president, dangerously flushed, advanced threateningly toward the insolent beast. -What?- exclaimed Hendrik Rutgers, skeptically. -Do you mean to tell me you really are the jackass your wife thinks you?- Fearing to intrude upon private affairs, the cashier discreetly left the room. The president fell back a step. Had Mrs. Goodchild ever spoken to this creature? Then he realized it was merely a fashion of speaking, and he approached, one pudgy fist uplifted. The uplift was more for rhetorical effect than for practical purposes, which has been a habit with most uplifts since money-making became an exact science. But Hendrik smiled pleasantly