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 "Tell you what you do, George," he proposed. "You go right ahead trying to sell these bonds yourself. Take a couple of days more on it, then come and see me."

Young Mr. Judson was vastly disappointed, but he bowed to the will of the man he was forced to supplicate. He rose, hat in hand.

"Come in, say, Thursday at four o'clock, George!" directed Mr. Blodgett, blandly kind and moderately encouraging.

George wrung his hand gratefully—grateful for the hope—and went out. He was so confident that S. R. Blodgett meant to help him, that his shrewd brain would point a way out, that he was tempted to give over his personal efforts to float the loan—only tempted, his nature was not soft. He was no quitter. He kept on with his missionary work—he revisited a dozen of the men he had already talked to; but instead of warmer the atmosphere had grown colder since his last interview.

When, on Thursday afternoon, George entered the private office of the President of the Huron National, he found S. L. Haley and T. O. Tompkins there and took instant hope, for here were three of the five men who had helped him to triumph before, but a second look at those impassive faces might have warned him.

"Looks like nothing doing, George!" an-