"Ain't they beauties?" he sighed. "Some day--yes sir!--some day they'll
be worth real money. I paid it for some of 'em. But they're yours--all
yours."
He gathered them up with care and returned them to the suitcase, then
fastened the clasps and patted the leather cover with his hand.
"They are yours, sir!" he exclaimed dramatically.
"As you say," agreed Mr. Tutt, "there's gold lying round everywhere if
we only had sense enough to look for it. But I think you're wise to
retire. After all, you have the satisfaction of knowing that your
enterprises were sound even if other people disagreed with you."
"If this was 1819 instead of 1919 I'd own Chicago," began Doc, a gleam
appearing in his eye. "But they don't want to upset the status
quo--that's why I haven't got a fair chance. But they needn't worry! I'd
be generous with 'em--give 'em easy terms--long leases and nominal
rents."
"But you'll like living with your daughter, I'm sure," said Mr. Tutt.
"It will make a new man of you in no time."
"Healthiest spot in northern New York," exclaimed Doc. "Within two miles
of a lake--fishing, shooting, outdoor recreation of all kinds, an ideal
site for a mammoth summer hotel."
Mr. Tutt rose and laid his arms round old Doc Barrows' shoulders.
"Thank you a thousand times," he said gratefully, "for the securities.
I'll be glad to keep them for you in my vault." His lips puckered in a
stealthy smile which he tried hard to conceal.
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