think he's a rank bad speculator
like yourself, sonny, you're mistaken. I didn't make my money that way,
and I don't reckon to lose it that way either. But Gardner's right.
Those shares are safe. They aren't going down again ever any more."

He turned to the girl on his other side, and laid his free hand on her
shoulder.

"And I guess you'll forgive me for distressing you," he said, "when I
tell you why I did it."

"Well, why, Dick?" she questioned, her face turned to his.

"I just thought I'd like to know, dear," he drawled, "if there wasn't
something bigger than money to be got out of this deal. And--are you
listening, Jerry?--I found there was!"

* * * * *

The Knight Errant

I

THE APPEAL

The Poor Relation hoisted one leg over the arm of his chair, and gazed
contemplatively at the ceiling.

"Now, I wonder whom I ought to scrag for this," he mused aloud.

A crumpled newspaper lay under his hand, a certain paragraph uppermost
that was strongly scored with red ink. He had read it twice already and
after a thoughtful pause he proceeded to read it again.

"A marriage has been arranged and will shortly take place between Cecil
Mordaunt Rivington and Ernestine, fourth daughter of Lady Florence
Cardwell."

"Why Ernestine, I wonder?" murmured the Poor Relation. "Thought she was
still in short frocks. Used to be rather a jolly little kid. Wonder what
she thinks of the arrangement?"

A faint smile cocked one corner of his mouth--a very plain mouth which
he wore no moustache to hide.

"And Lady Florence! Ye gods! Wonder what she thinks!"

The smile developed into a snigger, and vanished at a breath.

"But it's really infernally awkward," he declared. "Ought one to go and
apologise for what one hasn't done? Really, I don't know if I dare!"

Again, as one searching for inspiration, he read the brief paragraph.

"It looks to me, Cecil Mordaunt, as if you are in for a very warm time,"
he remarked at the end of this final inspection. "Such a time as you
haven't had since you left Rugby. If you take my advice you'll sit tight
like a sensible chap and leave this business to engineer itself. No good
ever came of meddling."

With which practical reflection he rose to fill and light a briar pipe,
his inseparable companion, before grappling with his morning
correspondence.

This lay in a neat pile at his elbow, and after a ruminative