Then, paper-hanging, mantels, plumbing and all that--Make it even twelve-fifty ?" he demanded, pen poised in a plump, white hand, eying the dealer with shrewd expectancy.
"Certainly, certainly," Mendenhall murmured, rubbing his hands with a thought of future custom.
Scratch-tch-ch! The check was made out with a flourish.

"Here you are.
I'll come round when I'm ready and tell you where to send the stuff.
By the way, where do you bank?
Want to send in checks for collection." "At the Farmers' and Citizens', mostly.

The First National is right around the corner, first turn to your left.

Thank you very much, Mr."-- he glanced at the check--Britt--Mr.N.C.

Britt.