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1904.] fellow. Shall I bring you another Chobei San? I have a lot more.”

“What sort of Chobei is he?”

“The next idle fellow who depends on me for support.”

Bunzayemon laughed, saying, “No, thank you; I don’t want another Chobei of that kind.”

In this wise, Bunzayemon undertook many important schemes and grew very rich, Thus in time his fame sounded through the whole of Japan, and he built a big establishment at Honhachobori,—a street in Tokio, near the heart of the city,—which covered one big square. Always strenuously pushing forward his business, he at last, as had been his ambition, became the leading merchant in the whole of Japan. As the old verse says:

“ you can get the all roof shingled now, ‘most any old time,” cried Homer Tidd. He bounced in at the kitchen door. A blast of icy wind followed him.

“Gracious! shet the door, Homer, an’ then tell me your news.” His mother shivered and pulled a little brown shawl tighter about her shoulders.

The boy planted himself behind the stove and laid his mittened hands comfortably around the pipe. “Oh, I ‘ve made a great deal, mother.” Homer’s freckled face glowed with satisfaction.

“What?” asked Mrs. Tidd.

“Did you see the man that jest druv out o’ the yard?”

“No, I did n‘t, Homer,”

“Well, ‘t was Mr. Richards—the Mr. Richards o’ Finch & Richards, the big market folks over in the city.”

“Has he bought your Thanksgivin’ turkeys?”

“He hain’t bought ’em for Thanksgivin’.”

“Well, what are you so set up about, boy?”

“He’s rented the hull flock. He’s to pay me three dollars a day for them, then he’s goin’ to buy them all for Christmas.”

“Land sakes! Three dollars a day!” Mrs. Tidd dropped one side of a pan of apples she was carrying, and some of them went rolling about the kitchen floor.

Homer nodded.

“For how long?” she asked eagerly.

“For a week,” Homer's freckles disappeared in the crimson glow of enthusiasm that over-spread his face.

“Eighteen dollars for nothin’ but exhibitin’ a bunch o’ turkeys! Seems to me some folks must have money to throw away.” Mrs. Tidd stared perplexedly over the top of her glasses.

“I ’ll tell you all about it, mother.” Homer took a chair and planted his feet on the edge of the oven. “Mr. Richards is goin’ to have a great Thanksgivin’ food show, an’ he wants a flock o’ live turkeys. He’s been drivin’ round the country lookin’ for some. The postmaster sent him here. He told him about Dan’! Webster’s tricks.”

“They don’t make Dan’l any better eatin’,” objected the mother.

“Maybe not. But don’t you see? Well!”