COME OUT
OF THE KITCHEN!

I

THE window of Randolph Reed's office was almost completely covered bymagnificent gold block lettering. This to any one who had time andability to read it—and the former was more common in the community thanthe latter—conveyed the information that Reed dealt in every kind ofreal estate, from country palaces to city flats. The last item was putin more for the sake of symmetry than accuracy, for the small Southerntown contained nothing approaching an apartment house.

From behind this pattern of gold, Reed peered eagerly one autumnafternoon, chewing the end of a frayed cigar, and listening for thesound of a motor. He was a stout young man, of an amiable thoughunreadable countenance, but like many people of a heavy build, he wascapable of extreme quickness of movement. This was never more clearlyshown than when, about four o'clock, the wished for sound actuallyreached his ears. A motor was approaching.

With a bound Reed left the window, and, seated at his desk, presented inthe twinkling of an eye the appearance of a young American business man,calm and efficient, on an afternoon of unusual business pressure. Helaid papers in piles, put them in clips and took them out, snappedrubber bands about them with frenzied haste, and finally seizing a pen,he began to indite those well-known and thrilling words: "Dear Sir:Yours of the 15th instant received and contents—" when the motor drewup before his door.

It was an English car; all green and nickel; it moved like an expertskater on perfect ice. As it stopped, the chauffeur dropped from hisplace beside the driver. The driver himself, removing his glasses,sprang from the car and up the office steps, slapping the pockets of hiscoat as he did so in a search which soon appeared to be for cigarettesand matches.

"Sorry to be late," he said.

Reed, who had looked up as one who did not at once remember, in his vastpreoccupation, either his visitor or his business, now seemed to recalleverything. He waved the newcomer to a chair, with a splendid gesture.

"Doubtless the roads," he began.

"Roads!" said the other. "Mud-holes. No, we left Washington later than Iintended. Well, have you got the house for me?"

Reed offered his client a cigar.

"No, thank you, prefer my cigarette if you don't mind."

Reed did not mind in the leas

...

COME OUT
OF THE KITCHEN!