The George Barr McCutcheon MEGAPACK ®. George Barr McCutcheon

of. And the yachting cruise—that can’t wait very much longer.”

      “The ball first,” she decreed. “I’ll see to the cards at once, and in a day or two I’ll have a list ready for your gracious approval. And what have you done?”

      “Pettingill has some great ideas for doing over Sherry’s. Harrison is in communication with the manager of that Hungarian orchestra you spoke of, and he finds the men quite ready for a little jaunt across the water. We have that military band—I’ve forgotten the number of its regiment—for the promenade music, and the new Paris sensation, the contralto, is coming over with her primo tenore for some special numbers.”

      “You were certainly cut out for an executive, Monty,” said Mrs. Dan. “But with the music and the decorations arranged, you’ve only begun. The favors are the real thing, and if you say the word, we’ll surprise them a little. Don’t worry about it, Monty. It’s a go already. We’ll pull it off together.”

      “You are a thoroughbred, Mrs. Dan,” he exclaimed. “You do help a fellow at a pinch.”

      “That’s all right, Monty,” she answered; “give me until after Christmas and I’ll have the finest favors ever seen. Other people may have their paper hats and pink ribbons, but you can show them how the thing ought to be done.”

      Her reference to Christmas haunted Brewster, as he drove down Fifth Avenue, with the dread of a new disaster. Never before had he looked upon presents as a calamity; but this year it was different. Immediately he began to plan a bombardment of his friends with costly trinkets, when he grew suddenly doubtful of the opinion of his uncle’s executor upon this move. But in response to a telegram, Swearengen Jones, with pleasing irascibility, informed him that “anyone with a drop of human kindness in his body would consider it his duty to give Christmas presents to those who deserved them.” Monty’s way was now clear. If his friends meant to handicap him with gifts, he knew a way to get even. For two weeks his mornings were spent at Tiffany’s, and the afternoons brought joy to the heart of every dealer in antiquities in Fourth and Fifth Avenues. He gave much thought to the matter in the effort to secure many small articles which elaborately concealed their value. And he had taste. The result of his endeavor was that many friends who would not have thought of remembering Monty with even a card were pleasantly surprised on Christmas Eve.

      As it turned out, he fared very well in the matter of gifts, and for some days much of his time was spent in reading notes of profuse thanks, which were yet vaguely apologetic. The Grays and Mrs. Dan had remembered him with an agreeable lack of ostentation, and some of the “Little Sons of the Rich,” who had kept one evening a fortnight open for the purpose of “using up their meal-tickets” at Monty’s, were only too generously grateful. Miss Drew had forgotten him, and when they met after the holiday her recognition was of the coldest. He had thought that, under the circumstances, he could send her a gift of value, but the beautiful pearls with which he asked for a reconciliation were returned with “Miss Drew’s thanks.” He loved Barbara sincerely, and it cut. Peggy Gray was taken into his confidence and he was comforted by her encouragement. It was a bit difficult for her to advise him to try again, but his happiness was a thing she had at heart.

      “It’s beastly unfair, Peggy,” he said. “I’ve really been white to her. I believe I’ll chuck the whole business and leave New York.”

      “You’re going away?” and there was just a suggestion of a catch in her breath.

      “I’m going to charter a yacht and sail away from this place for three or four months.” Peggy fairly gasped. “What do you think of the scheme?” he added, noticing the alarm and incredulity in her eyes.

      “I think you’ll end in the poor-house, Montgomery Brewster,” she said, with a laugh.

      CHAPTER XIII

      A FRIEND IN NEED

      It was while Brewster was in the depths of despair that his financial affairs had a windfall. One of the banks in which his money was deposited failed and his balance of over $100,000 was wiped out. Mismanagement was the cause and the collapse came on Friday, the thirteenth day of the month. Needless to say, it destroyed every vestige of the superstition he may have had regarding Friday and the number thirteen.

      Brewster had money deposited in five banks, a transaction inspired by the wild hope that one of them might some day suspend operations and thereby prove a legitimate benefit to him. There seemed no prospect that the bank could resume operations, and if the depositors in the end realized twenty cents on the dollar they would be fortunate. Notwithstanding the fact that everybody had considered the institution substantial there were not a few wiseacres who called Brewster a fool and were so unreasonable as to say that he did not know how to handle money. He heard that Miss Drew, in particular, was bitterly sarcastic in referring to his stupidity.

      This failure caused a tremendous flurry in banking circles. It was but natural that questions concerning the stability of other banks should be asked, and it was not long before many wild, disquieting reports were afloat. Anxious depositors rushed into the big banking institutions and then rushed out again, partially assured that there was no danger. The newspapers sought to allay the fears of the people, but there were many to whom fear became panic. There were short, wild runs on some of the smaller banks, but all were in a fair way to restore confidence when out came the rumor that the Bank of Manhattan Island was in trouble. Colonel Prentiss Drew, railroad magnate, was the president of this bank.

      When the bank opened for business on the Tuesday following the failure, there was a stampede of frightened depositors. Before eleven o’clock the run had assumed ugly proportions and no amount of argument could stay the onslaught. Colonel Drew and the directors, at first mildly distressed, and then seeing that the affair had become serious, grew more alarmed than they could afford to let the public see. The loans of all the banks were unusually large. Incipient runs on some had put all of them in an attitude of caution, and there was a natural reluctance to expose their own interests to jeopardy by coming to the relief of the Bank of Manhattan Island.

      Monty Brewster had something like $200,000 in Colonel Drew’s bank. He would not have regretted on his own account the collapse of this institution, but he realized what it meant to the hundreds of other depositors, and for the first time he appreciated what his money could accomplish. Thinking that his presence might give confidence to the other depositors and stop the run he went over to the bank with Harrison and Bragdon. The tellers were handing out thousands of dollars to the eager depositors. His friends advised him strongly to withdraw before it was too late, but Monty was obdurate. They set it down to his desire to help Barbara’s father and admired his nerve.

      “I understand, Monty,” said Bragdon, and both he and Harrison went among the people carelessly asking one another if Brewster had come to withdraw his money. “No, he has over $200,000, and he’s going to leave it,” the other would say.

      Each excited group was visited in turn by the two men, but their assurance seemed to accomplish but little. These men and women were there to save their fortunes; the situation was desperate.

      Colonel Drew, outwardly calm and serene, but inwardly perturbed, finally saw Brewster and his companions. He sent a messenger over with the request that Monty come to the president’s private office at once.

      “He wants to help you to save your money,” cried Bragdon in low tones. “That shows it’s all up.”

      “Get out every dollar of it, Monty, and don’t waste a minute. It’s a smash as sure as fate,” urged Harrison, a feverish expression in his eyes.

      Brewster was admitted to the Colonel’s private office. Drew was alone and was pacing the floor like a caged animal.

      “Sit down, Brewster, and don’t mind if I seem nervous. Of course we can hold out, but it is terrible—terrible. They think we are trying to rob them. They’re mad—utterly mad.”

      “I never saw anything like it, Colonel. Are you sure you can meet all the demands?” asked Brewster, thoroughly excited. The Colonel’s face was white and he chewed his cigar nervously.

      “We