and
disdainfully upon the dirty bills before him. "If I had a hundred
dollars!"

There was a knock at the door, and Carter opened it to the elevator boy
with the morning mail. The letters, save one, Carter dropped upon
the table. That one, with clumsy fingers, he tore open. He exclaimed
breathlessly: "It's from PLYMPTON'S MAGAZINE! Maybe--I've sold a story!"
He gave a cry almost of alarm. His voice was as solemn as though the
letter had announced a death.

"Dolly," he whispered, "it's a check--a check for a HUNDRED DOLLARS!"

Guiltily, the two young people looked at each other.

"We've GOT to!" breathed Dolly. "GOT to! If we let TWO signs like that
pass, we'd be flying in the face of Providence."

With her hands gripping the arms of her chair, she leaned forward, her
eyes staring into space, her lips moving.

"COME ON, you Dromedary!" she whispered.

They changed the check into five and ten dollar bills, and, as Carter
was far too excited to work, made an absurdly early start for the
race-track.

"We might as well get all the fresh air we can," said Dolly. "That's all
we will get!"

From their reserve fund of twenty-seven dollars which each had solemnly
agreed with the other would not be risked on race-horses, Dolly
subtracted a two-dollar bill. This she stuck conspicuously across the
face of the clock on the mantel.

"Why?" asked Carter.

"When we get back this evening," Dolly explained, "that will be the
first thing we'll see. It's going to look awfully good!"

This day there was no scarlet car to rush them with refreshing swiftness
through Brooklyn's parkways and along the Ocean Avenue. Instead, they
hung to a strap in a cross-town car, changed to the ferry, and again to
the Long Island Railroad. When Carter halted at the special car of the
Turf Club, Dolly took his arm and led him forward to the day coach.

"But," protested Carter, "when you're spending a hundred dollars with
one hand, why grudge fifty cents for a parlor-car seat? If you're going
to be a sport, be a sport." "And if you've got to be a piker," said
Dolly, "don't be ashamed to be a piker. We're not spending a hundred
dollars because we can afford it, but because you dreamt a dream. You
didn't dream you were riding in parlor-cars! If you did, it's time I
woke you."

This day there was for them no box overlooking the finish, no club-house
luncheon. With the other pikers, they sat in the free seats, with those
who sat coatless and tucke