"What You Want" 221
was and make 'em marry or got 'em good Government jobs. Now, I'd like something of that sort. My money is as good as his was even if the magazines do ask me every month where I got it. Yes, I guess I'll do a little Cardiff business to-night, and see how it goes."
Plainly dressed, old Tom Crowley left his Madison Avenue palace, and walked west- ward and then south. As he stepped to the sidewalk, Fate, who holds the ends of the strings in the central offices of all the en- chanted cities, pulled a thread, and a young man twenty blocks away looked at a wall clock, and then put on his coat.
James Turner worked in one of those little hat-cleaning establishments on Sixth Avenue in which a fire alarm rings when you push the door open, and where they clean your hat while you wait two days. James stood all day at an electric machine that turned hats around faster than the best brands of cham- pagne ever could have done. Overlooking your mild impertinence in feeling a curiosity about the personal appearance of a stranger, I will give you a modified description of him. Weight, 118; complexion, hair, and brain,
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