MR. SMEETH GETS HIS RISE

appointment, "If I could put my hand on sixty quid
this minute, I could make money. A cert. Sounds like
horse racing, doesn't it, but it isn't—"

"And I should hope not/' said his father, looking at
him severely.

"Second-hand car deal. Money for nothing. Ah,
well—you wait a bit."

"Well, you be careful, with your money for nothing."

"Leave it to me, Dad/' said George coolly.

Mr. Smeeth looked wonderingly at him. It seemed
only yesterday when he was filling his stocking and
putting the Meccano set by the boy's bedside. And
now—leave it to him, sixty quid, a cert! Mr. Smeeth
took his pipe out, stared at it, and then whistled softly.

"COME along, Dad,'' cried Mrs, Smeeth, pouring out
the Rich Ruby Port for the ladies. "Buck up. Join
in the fun." She had herself a rich ruby look, for what
with eating and drinking and shouting and laughing
and singing, her face was crimson and almost steaming.

Unfortunately, Mr. Mitty overheard her. "That's
right," he roared, drowning any other voice in the
room. "Come on, Pa. Take your turn. No shirking.
Take your turn, Pa. Show us a conjuring trick."

"Oh, shut up, Fred," Mrs. Mitty screamed, pretend-
ing to chide him, as usual, and really drawing attention
to his astonishing drollery. "You've gone far enough,'

Mr. Smeeth could not do any conjuring, but if he had
been given unlimited powers, he knew one trick he