Jimmy collared a boy that was loafing on the steps of the bank as if he were one of the stockholders, and began to ask him questions about the town, feeding him dimes at intervals. By and by the young lady came out, looking royally unconscious of the young man with the suit-case, and went her way."Isn' that young lady Polly Simpson?" asked Jimmy, with specious guile.
"Naw," said the boy. "She's Annabel Adams. Her pa owns this bank. Why'd you come to Elmore for? Is that a gold watch-chain? I'm going to get a bulldog. Got any more dimes?"
Continued next week. Tomorrow's installment from Lays of Ancient Rome by Macaulay.
Photo is author's home in Austin, TX. Now the O'Henry Museum. (CC) Larry D. Moore.
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