billets into it, for there
was a bitter frost. Mrs. Hastings installed Winifred in a canvas
lounge and wrapped a shawl about her.

"You haven't got warm yet, and you're looking quite worn out," she
said. "I suppose Hamilton has still been keeping you at work until
late at night?"

"We have been very busy since I was last here," Winifred admitted, and
then turned to Hastings. "Until the last week or so there has been no
slackening in the rush to sell. Everybody seems to have been throwing
wheat on to the market."

Hastings looked thoughtful. "A good many of the smaller men have been
doing so, but I think they're foolish. They're only helping to break
down prices, and I shouldn't wonder if one or two of the big,
long-headed buyers saw their opportunity in the temporary panic. In
fact, if I'd a pile of dollars lying in the bank I'm not sure that I
wouldn't send along a buying order and operate for a rise."

His wife shook her head at him. "No," she said; "you certainly
wouldn't while I had any say in the matter. You're rather a good
farmer, but I haven't met one yet who made a successful speculator.
Some of our friends have tried it--and you know where it landed them.
I expect those broker and mortgage men must lick their lips when a nice
fat woolly farmer comes along. It must be quite delightful to shear
him."

Hastings laughed. "I should like to point out that most of the farmers
in this country are decidedly thin, and have uncommonly little wool on
them." Then he turned to the rest. "I feel inclined to tell you how
Mrs. Hastings made the expenses of her Paris trip; it's an example of
feminine consistency. She went round the neighbourhood and bought all
the wheat anybody had left on hand up, or, at least, she made me do it."

His wife, who had, as it happened, means of her own, nodded. "That was
different," she said; "anyway, I had the wheat, and I--knew--it would
go up."

"Then why shouldn't other folks sell forward, for instance, when they
know it will go down? That's not what I suggested doing, but the
point's the same."

"They haven't got the wheat."

"Of course; they wouldn't operate for a fall if they had. On the other
hand, if their anticipations proved correct, they could buy it for less
than they sold at before they had to deliver."

"That," said Mrs. Hastings severely, "is pure gambling. It's sure to
land one in the hands of the mortgage jobber."

Hastings smiled at the others.