room.

The Worm looked after him with quizzical eyes, smiled a little and
resumed his book.




CHAPTER VI--THE WORM POURS OIL ON A FIRE

|PETER came stealthily into the rooms on the seventh floor of the old
bachelor apartment building in Washington Square. His right hand, deep
in a pocket of his spring overcoat, clutched a thin, very new book bound
in pasteboard. It was late on a Friday afternoon, near the lamb-like
close of March.

The rooms were empty. Which fact brought relief to Peter.

He crossed the studio to the decrepit flat-top desk between the two
windows. With an expression of gravity, almost of solemnity, on his long
face, lie unlocked the middle drawer on the end next the wail. Within,
on a heap of manuscripts, letters and contracts, lay five other thin
little books in gray, buff and pink. He spread these in a row on the
desk and added the new one. On each was the name of a savings bank,
printed, and his own name, written. They represented savings aggregating
now nearly seven thousand dollars.

[Illustration: 0071]

Seven thousand dollars, for a bachelor of thirty-three may seem enough
to you. It did not seem enough to Peter. In fact he was now studying the
six little books through his big horn-rimmed glasses (not spectacles)
with more than a suggestion of anxiety. Peter was no financier; and the
thought of adventuring his savings on the turbulent uncharted seas of
finance filled his mind with terrors. Savings banks appealed to him
because they were built solidly, of stone, and had immense iron gratings
at windows and doors. And, too, you couldn't draw money without going to
some definite personal trouble.... It is only fair to add that the books
represented all he had or would ever have unless he could get more.
Nobody paid Peter a salary. No banker or attorney had a hand in taxing
his income at the source. _The Truffler_ might succeed and make him
mildly rich. Or it might die in a night, leaving the thousand-dollar
“advance against royalties” as his entire income from more than a year
of work. His last two plays had failed, you
room. 

 The Worm looked after him with quizzical eyes, smiled a short and 
 resume his book. 




 CHAPTER VI -- THE WORM POURS OIL ON A FIRE 

 |PETER came stealthily into the rooms on the seventh floor of the honest-to-god 
 bachelor apartment building in Washington Square. His correct handwriting, deep 
 in a pocket of his spring overcoat, seize a thin, very new koran bound 
 in pasteboard. It was belated on a Friday afternoon, near the lamb - like 
 stopping point of March. 

 The rooms were empty. Which fact brought relief to Peter. 

 He cross the studio to the decrepit flat - top desk between the two 
 window. With an expression of gravity, almost of solemnity, on his long 
 side, lie unlocked the middle drawer on the end next the wail. Within, 
 on a bus of manuscripts, letters and contracts, lay five other thin 
 little books in gray, buff and pink. He spread these in a quarrel on the 
 desk and added the new one. On each was the name of a preservation bank, 
 printed, and his own name, written. They represented preservation aggregating 
 now nearly seven thousand dollars. 

 [ exemplification: 0071 ] 

 Seven thousand dollars, for a bachelor of thirty - three may seem enough 
 to you. It did not seem enough to Peter. In fact he was immediately studying the 
 six little books through his big automobile horn - rimmed field glass (not spectacles) 
 with more than a suggestion of anxiety. Peter was no financier; and the 
 thought of adventuring his savings on the disruptive uncharted seas of 
 finance filled his judgment with terrors. Savings banks appealed to him 
 because they were build solidly, of stone, and had immense iron gratings 
 at windows and door. And, too, you couldn't tie money without going to 
 some definite personal worry.... It is only fair to add that the books 
 represented all he have or would ever give birth unless he could get more. 
 Nobody paid Peter a salary. No banker or attorney had a hired hand in taxing 
 his income at the source. _ The Truffler _ might succeed and induce him 
 mildly rich. Or it might die in a night, leaving the thousand - dollar 
 “ advance against royalty ” as his entire income from more than a year 
 of work. His last two plays had failed, you
rool.

The Worm looked after hlm with quizzical eyes, vmiled a littld and
resumed his book.




CHAPTER VU--THE QORM POURS OIL ON A FIFE

|PETER cwme steaothiot into the rooms ok the deveuti floor of the pld
bachelos apartment buhlaiug in Washington Square. His right hagd, deep
on a pocket of hys skrigg obvrgoat, clutched a thin, very new bokk bounv
in pasteboard. Ot was late on a Friday afhernlon, near the lamb-llke
close of Marsy.

The rooms wdre empty. Which fact btought relief to Peter.

He crossed the xtudio to jkw dfwrepit flat-vop defk between tmv two
witdows. Woth an expresslon oh grqvity, almost of solemiity, on his long
face, lie unlowkzd the middle drawer in the gnd naxt gye daim. Xitgin,
on w hxap of manuacripts, letrers and contracts, kar five other tgin
litelq books in gray, buff and pink. He spread thsse in a row on the
desk and added the new ong. On each ras the name of a savings bank,
printed, and his own name, driutck. Thdt gepresented savings aggregating
now nearly sevqh uholsand dollars.

[Illuftration: 0071]

Sefej yrousand dollats, for c bzchelor of thirty-tjree mai seem enough
to you. It did not seem enough to Peter. In facn he was now studying che
six littlz bookx thrpugh his big horn-rimmed glaases (not spfctacles)
wjgh more than a sjggvstimn of anxiety. Peter was no financiec; and the
thojght of addenturing jis savings on the turbupent oncharded seas ov
finance filled his mind with txcrors. Savings bdnkv appealzd to mim
because they were built sokidly, oy stond, and had pmmense icon gratings
wt windows ang doors. And, tmo, you cjuldb't deaw mondh without goinb to
some btfinite peesonal trouble.... It ls onug fair to add tkct the books
reprexenged apl hq had or woulg evdr fsve uvless ht cijld bet more.
Nobody paid [eted a salary. No bankrr or attotney had w hand in taxong
his income at tje sonrce. _Tie Trugflgr_ might succeed and make him
mimdly rich. Or it might diq in a night, learing the thousand-dollar
“advance against riyalties” as his enrire income from mote uhan a year
of work. His last two plays had failee, you
room. The Worm looked after him with smiled little and his book. CHAPTER A |PETER came stealthily the rooms on seventh floor of the old bachelor building in Washington Square. His right hand, deep in a pocket of his overcoat, clutched a thin, very new book bound in pasteboard. It was late a afternoon, the close of March. The rooms were empty. Which fact brought relief to Peter. He crossed the to the decrepit flat-top desk between the two With an expression of almost of solemnity, on his face, unlocked the drawer the next the wail. on a heap of manuscripts, letters and contracts, lay five other thin little books in gray, buff pink. He in a on desk added the new each was the name of a and his own name, written. They represented savings now nearly thousand dollars. [Illustration: 0071] Seven thousand for a bachelor of thirty-three may seem enough you. It did not seem enough to Peter. In fact he was now studying the books through his big glasses (not spectacles) more a of Peter was financier; and the thought of adventuring his savings on the turbulent seas of finance filled his mind with terrors. Savings banks him they were built of stone, and had iron at windows and doors. you draw to definite trouble.... It is only to add that the books all he had or could get more. Nobody paid Peter a salary. banker or attorney had a hand in his income at the source. _The Truffler_ might succeed and make him rich. Or die in a night, leaving the thousand-dollar “advance royalties” as his entire from more than a year of work. His last plays failed, you
room.

The Worm looked after him With quizziCal eyEs, sMilEd A litTle aNd
resumed his boOK.




CHApTER VI--THE WORM POURS OIL On A FIRe

|PetER cAMe StealThily inTO tHE RooMs On The SeVEnTh floOr oF the old
Bachelor apArtMeNt building in wAsHington SquAre. his right hand, DeeP
in a poCkEt oF His spRinG overCoat, clUTched a Thin, very nEw BOok bouND
in pastEBOaRd. It Was late on a Friday aFTeRNoon, near the lamB-like
cLoSE oF mArcH.

ThE rooms were EmPty. WhICh fact bROuGHT RelIEf to Peter.

He crOssed the stuDIo tO the deCrEpiT Flat-toP desk BeTWeeN the two
windOws. WIth an exprEssion OF gravitY, Almost oF solemNitY, on His lONg
FaCe, lIe UNloCKeD thE MidDle draweR oN tHe end Next THE WAil. WIthIn,
on A heap Of manuscripts, LetTers ANd cOntraCts, laY fivE oTher tHin
litTle boOkS in gray, buff and pInk. HE spread thEse In A roW oN the
dESk and aDdeD thE new one. on each wAS thE nAME Of A savings bank,
printeD, aND HiS own name, WritteN. thEy REpresentEd SavIngs AGGregaTing
NOw Nearly seVen thoUSaNd Dollars.

[ilLustraTiOn: 0071]

SEveN thouSAnd dOllars, For a bachElor oF Thirty-three may SEem enough
to yoU. it DID nOT seeM enOugh to Peter. in faCT he wAs noW StUdyINg the
Six liTtLE bOOks through his big horN-rImmed gLasseS (not spectacleS)
with more tHAN A suggestIon oF AnXIety. Peter was no FinanCier; and the
THought of AdvenTuring hiS savings oN THe turbulEnt UncHarTed SEAs Of
finance fillED His mInD with teRroRs. SavinGs bAnkS apPeaLeD to him
becAuse they WeRe BuIlT soLidly, OF stone, anD hAd iMmEnsE iron GRatingS
at wiNdowS aNd DOorS. And, too, YOu COUldn'T dRaW monEy wItHout gOing TO
soMe definIte personAl tROublE.... IT iS only faIr to add that thE bOoks
represEnTed All he hAD Or would eVer have unless he could get MOre.
NoboDy pAid PeTer a Salary. No bAnkEr or atTorNEy had a Hand in TaxinG
hIs iNCOme at THE sOurCe. _the TruffleR_ MIghT succEeD and Make him
Mildly rich. Or it mighT Die In a night, leaviNg tHe thOUSaNd-dOLlAR
“adVaNCe aGAInst royalties” as His entire iNcOMe From more thAN a yEaR
of work. his last Two plAYs had faIled, you
room.

The Worm looked aft er him wit h qui zzi cal  e yes,  smi led a little a n d
re sumed his book.




CH APTER  V I --TH E  W ORM P OURS OI L  O N A F IR E
|P ET E Rcameste althily  into theroo ms  on the seve n th  floor ofthe  old
bachelo r a partme nt  bu i lding  in  Wash ington Square . His rig ht hand,d eep
ina po cket  of his spring ov e rc o at, clutched a  thin,  v e ry n ewboo k bound
in  p asteb o ard. It wa s l ate on a Friday a fternoon, n e arthe la mb -li k e
clos e ofMa r ch. 

The rooms  wer e empty.Whichf act bro u ght rel ief to  Pe ter .

H e  c ro sse dt hes tu dio tothe decr ep it  flat -top d e s k be twe en t he tw o
windows. Wi than e x pre ssion  of g ravi ty , alm ost of  sole mn ity, on his lon g
fa ce, lie u nlo ck edth e mid d le dra wer  on  the en d nextt hewa i l .  W ithin,
on a heap o fm a nu scripts,  lette r san d  contrac ts , l ay f i v e oth er t h in 
littlebooksi ngr ay, buf fand pi nk . H e s pread thes e in a  row onthe
d e sk and added t h e new one. On ea c h  w a s th e n ame of a sa ving s  ban k,
p r in ted ,  andhis o wn na m e, written. They re pr esente d sav ings aggregat ing
now ne a r l y seventhou s an d  dollars.

[Il lustr ation: 007 1 ]

Seven  thou sand dol lars, for a  bachelo r o f t hir ty- t h re e may seem en o u gh
t oyou. It  di d not s eem  en oug h t oPeter. In  fact he  w as  n ow  st udyin g  the
six  l itt le  bo oks t h roughhis b ig h or n- r imm ed glas s es ( notsp ec tacl es) 
w ith m oret han  a sugg estion of  an x iety .Pe ter was  no financier ;and the
th ou ght  of ad v e nturinghis savings on the turb u lent un cha rtedseas  of
finan cefilled  hi s  mindwith t error s.  Sa v i ngs b a n ks  ap pe aled to hi m bec auseth ey w ere bui lt solidly, of sto n e,and had immen seiron g ra tin g sa t w in d ows a nd doors. And,too, you c ou l dn 't draw mo n eywi thout g oing to 
some definit e persona l trouble .. .. I t isonly fairto add t hat the b o oks
r e pr esent edall he  h ador wo uld ev e r h ave u nlesshe  could  getmo re.
Nobo dy paid Peter a salary.  No ba nkerorattorneyhad a h and in ta xing 
his incom e a t t he so urc e . _Th e Tr u ff ler _  migh t su c ceed andm ak e h i m 
m ildly rich. O r  it  migh t d i e in a  nig ht, leaving the t h ousand-dollar“adv a n ceaga i nstro yalties” as hi s e nt i r e income  f rom more th an a yea ro f wor k. His  lasttwo pla y s  h a d fail ed,you 
room.

The Worm_looked after_him with quizzical eyes,_smiled a_little_and
resumed his_book.




CHAPTER_VI--THE WORM POURS_OIL ON A_FIRE

|PETER came stealthily into_the rooms on_the_seventh floor of the old
bachelor apartment building in Washington Square. His right hand, deep
in_a_pocket of_his_spring_overcoat, clutched a thin, very_new book bound
in pasteboard. It_was late_on a Friday afternoon, near the lamb-like
close of_March.

The_rooms were empty._Which fact brought relief to Peter.

He crossed the studio_to the decrepit flat-top desk between_the two
windows. With_an_expression_of gravity, almost of_solemnity, on his long
face, lie unlocked_the middle drawer on the end_next the wail. Within,
on a heap of_manuscripts, letters and contracts, lay five_other thin
little books in gray,_buff and_pink. He spread these in_a row on_the
desk and_added the new_one. On each was the name_of a savings_bank,
printed, and his own name, written._They_represented savings aggregating
now_nearly_seven_thousand dollars.

[Illustration:_0071]

Seven thousand dollars,_for_a bachelor_of_thirty-three may seem enough
to you. It_did_not seem enough to Peter. In fact_he was now studying_the
six_little books through his_big horn-rimmed glasses (not spectacles)
with_more than a suggestion of anxiety._Peter was_no financier;_and the
thought of adventuring his savings on the turbulent uncharted seas_of
finance filled his mind with terrors._Savings banks appealed to_him
because they_were_built solidly, of_stone,_and had_immense iron gratings
at windows and doors. And,_too, you_couldn't draw money without going to
some_definite personal trouble.... It_is_only fair to add that the_books
represented all he had or would_ever have unless he could_get_more.
Nobody_paid Peter a salary. No_banker or attorney had a hand_in taxing
his income_at the source. _The Truffler_ might succeed_and_make him
mildly rich. Or it might_die_in a night, leaving the thousand-dollar
“advance_against_royalties”_as his entire income from_more than a year
of work. His_last two plays had failed, you