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 erful dailies, sent in seven cards. He spoke with them at the door. They wanted very much to know if he knew anything about the proposed dividend on B. T. U.

"I know nothing," said Mr. Dunbar.

The seven reporters hurried away, carrying this important announcement to seven headquarters.

Mr. Dunbar was B. T. U.

At this time it occurred to him that a favorite pipe—the one mended with sealing-wax—was lurking somewhere in one of the drawers of the writing-table. He longed to smoke that particular pipe, and he began to search for it. In one of the drawers he came across a package of old photographs held together by elastics. He looked them over, and laughed to see the odd figures that old-fashioned clothes made of some of his most fashionable friends. Part of the package slipped from his hands and was scattered over the floor, face down. He began a childish game with himself, guessing by the appearance of the back what the pic-