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 Where is Emily?
“Where’s Emily?”
“Dunno, Aunt Judy. Shall I go a-hunting?”
“No, no, Rod. Betty—Nell—doesn’t anybody know where Emily is?”
“Did anybody ever know!”
“You see,” Aunt Judy whispered discreetly, “the minister’s here.”
“Oh, that! Well, tell him Emily’s gone walking with the Swami. That’ll give him one crowded hour of glorious life—”
“Leave all to me; I’ll take care of the cloth. What’s a best man for?”
Burton Lamb stepped to Aunt Judy’s side, and murmuring “lead me to him” left the room with her.
In a small reception room they found the Reverend Mr. Garner seated in a truly ecclesiastical attitude on the edge of a chair.
He was of an austere and ascetic type, and his fundamental beliefs were written plainly in his square, set jaw, and his snapping black eyes...
 

 The Huddle
“I HAVE said, and I still say, it’s too soon to begin any definite work. Plans, yes; action, no. Why, the whole project is still in the air. It may fall through entirely.”
“Now, now, Curtis, don’t be a sister to the hen,” Allenby returned. “Don’t throw a wet blanket over our burning enthusiasm. As I’m putting up most of the money and as I’m not entirely inexperienced as a promoter—”
“Inexperienced!” Barton chipped in, “you’re a born promoter, Ally. I’ll bet you arranged and promoted the little matter of your arrival into this world.”
Munson Davis spoke seriously. “Promoting is a fine enterprise,” he said, “if you don’t promote too hard and too fast. Allenby is our kingpin, our mainstay, our very backbone, but at the risk of being unpleasant I am going to ask him to throttle down now and then, as he promotes at top speed.”
The quartet had gone into a huddle at the home of Robert G. Allenby, financer and promoter of their enterprise. In New York City the room they occupied overlooked the East River at a desirable point...

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