"Fumed eggs," said Bean, regarding her shrewdly.
"What?" demanded Grandma.
"Fumed eggs, hundred p'cent efficient," he declared stoutly.
The Demon eyed him more closely.
"My grandmother smoked, too," said Bean, "but I never went in for it much."
"U-u-u-mmm!" said the Demon. It was to be seen that she felt puzzled.
Breede slunk into the room, garbed in an unaccustomed frock coat. He went through the form of shaking hands with Bean.
Bean felt a sudden necessity to tell Breede a lot of things. He wished to confide in the man.
"Principle of the thing's all I cared about," he began. "Anybody make money that wants to be a Wall Street crook and take it away from the tired business man. What I want to be is one of the idle rich ... only not idle much of the time, you know. Good major league club for mine. Been looking the ground over; sound 'vestment; keep you out of bad company, lots time to read good books."
"Hanh! Wha's 'at?" exploded Breede.