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length the bitter, sparkling winter was over, the sleigh-bells silent, the covered skating-rinks all closed. The last remnants of the piled-up snow had melted, and the sweet spring winds were blowing freshly down the cedar-paved streets. On the lake shores the boat-houses were being opened; canoes, skiffs and cat-boats being repainted. Tents and camping kit were being overhauled. The talk everywhere was of picnics, expeditions, trips into the backwoods, and plans for summer holidays. Crystal sunlight flooded the world. The Canadian spring intoxicated the brain and sent the blood dancing to wild, happy measures.

The Hub was now in the hands of a Receiver; Adams and Burns, the wholesale house, controlled it. Kay and I had to pay cash for everything—the Hub Wine Company was "bust."

Yielding to my father's impatient surprise that after all these months I was still a partner, I had assigned my interest a short time before to Kay, and had sent home the printed announcement in the newspapers. It was a nominal assignment only, for I had nothing to assign. My last penny of capital was lost. Kay, for his part, had lost everything too. Vultures, in the form of bailiffs with blue writs in their claws, haunted our last week; by good luck rather than good management I owed nothing, but Kay had small outstanding accounts all over the town.

It was a hectic last week. Our friends came in crowds to sympathize, to offer advice, to suggest new plans, and all considered a liquid farewell necessary. This etiquette was strict. A private word with the Receiver brought back our tea bottle. The Upper House did a fair business again, while Louis B bursting with new schemes, Rh