up with my own mail this morning. I'd have
telephoned you about it, Laura, but upon my word I've been so busy all
day I clean forgot it. I've let the cat out of the bag already, Mr.
Corthell, and I might as well tell the whole thing now. I've been
putting through a little deal with some Liverpool fellows to-day, and I
had to wait down town to get their cables to-night. You got my
telephone, did you, Laura?"

"Yes, but you said then you'd be up in half an hour."

"I know--I know. But those Liverpool cables didn't come till all hours.
Well, as I was saying, Mr. Corthell, I had this deal on hand--it was
that wheat, Laura, I was telling you about this morning--five million
bushels of it, and I found out from my English agent that I could slam
it right into a couple of fellows over there, if we could come to
terms. We came to terms right enough. Some of that wheat I sold at a
profit of fifteen cents on every bushel. My broker and I figured it out
just now before I started home, and, as I say, I'm a clean half million
to the good. So much for looking ahead a little further than the next
man." He dropped into a chair and stretched his arms wide. "Whoo! I'm
tired Laura. Seems as though I'd been on my feet all day. Do you
suppose Mary, or Martha, or Maggie, or whatever her name is, could
rustle me a good strong cup of tea.

"Haven't you dined, Curtis?" cried Laura.

"Oh, I had a stand-up lunch somewhere with Sam. But we were both so
excited we might as well have eaten sawdust. Heigho, I sure am tired.
It takes it out of you, Mr. Corthell, to make five hundred thousand in
about ten hours."

"Indeed I imagine so," assented the artist. Jadwin turned to his wife,
and held her glance in his a moment. He was full of triumph, full of
the grim humour of the suddenly successful American.

"Hey?" he said. "What do you think of that, Laura," he clapped down his
big hand upon his chair arm, "a whole half million--at one grab? Maybe
they'll say down there in La Salle Street now that I don't know wheat.
Why, Sam--that's Gretry my broker, Mr. Corthell, of Gretry, Converse &
Co.--Sam said to me Laura, to-night, he said, 'J.,'--they call me 'J.'
down there, Mr. Corthell--'J., I take off my hat to you. I thought you
were wrong from the very first, but I guess you know this game better
than I do.' Yes, sir, that's what he said, and Sam Gretry has been
trading in wheat for pretty nearly thirty years. Oh, I knew it," he
cried, with a quick g