"He's a credit to the place," observed Joe Close. "Here's where the Texas land grab was arranged, and the wool trust formed, and the joker inserted into the rebate bill."

"Nevertheless, if Johnny Gamble sits in this game I'll cash in my chips and quit," declared Morton Washer.

"He's good enough company for me," bl.u.s.tered Colonel Bouncer, scrutinizing his cards one by one.

"I suppose so," agreed Washer with a smile at Johnny, "but he's so full of young tricks and we're outcla.s.sed. What's that property going to cost us?"

"Three and a half million," stated Johnny quietly.

Colonel Bouncer, having now made up his mind, deliberately and with nice care measured up blue chips and red chips and white chips matching Washer's, and added to them all the blue ones he had in his possession.

"Taking any stock yourself, Johnny?" he softly asked.

"Can't afford it," confessed Johnny with a smile.

"The property's quite worth three and a half million," announced Courtney decisively, watching the face of Morton Washer as that calm player stared at the colonel's chips. "I'm willing to take a million of the stock."

"I'll take a million; more if need be," offered Washer. "I've been wanting in on that for some time. Colonel, what have you got?"

"Five cards," replied the colonel.

"You have threes," charged Washer.

"I'm conducting my business through an agent," laughed Bouncer. "There it is," and he indicated the stack of blue chips.

"You have threes," insisted Washer. "The reason I'm so particular is that I have threes myself, and I want to know which are the better."

"There is one clever way to find out," bantered the colonel confidently. "You have a lot of chips. Why are you so stingy with them?"

"That's the way I got them," countered Washer. "I'll donate though.

I'll do better than that: I'll tap you."

The colonel promptly counted his remaining red and white chips. Washer as promptly measured up to them and to the blues.

"Told you the truth!" he exulted. "I said I had threes, and here they are! Three tens and a king and another ten!" And he gleefully spread down his cards. "I caught the pink one."

"Had mine all the time!" triumphed Colonel Bouncer, throwing down his hand and putting both big arms round the pot. "Four elevens!" And chuckling near to the apoplexy line he sc.r.a.ped the chips home, while Washer inspected his excellent collection of jacks. "Now brag, you old bluffer!" And, still chuckling, he began sorting the chips into patriotic piles.

"Enjoy yourselves," granted Washer, concealing his intense chagrin with as nonchalant an air as possible. "I give you my word those chips are only loaned. Go on and laugh! You fellows make a lot of fuss over a cheap little jack-pot. Johnny, must you see us Monday?"

"Can't delay it," replied Johnny, checking his own laughter for the purpose. "I've paid five hundred thousand of the purchase price.

Another million must be paid in one week and the balance in two weeks."

"That's pretty rapid work," remarked Close, with a frown, beginning swiftly to figure interest.

"The Wobbleses are in a hurry to sail. I've looked into the t.i.tle. It's clear as a whistle. Can't we arrange a meeting at my office?"

They settled on a meeting at three-forty-five on Monday while Morton Washer dealt.

"Bless my heart, Mort Washer, that's the fourth time you've turned my first card and it's always a deuce!" complained the colonel. "If you do it again I shall be compelled to give you an old-time, school-day licking."

"You can't do it and you never saw the day you could," bristled Washer, brandishing a bony little fist before the colonel's big face.

"There's one more question I'd like to ask," Johnny interposed on this violent quarrel. "Will it be necessary for me to offer any stock outside this group?"

"I can't swing but a quarter of a million to save me; possibly only two hundred thousand," regretted Bouncer.

"If you'd like to carry a little more I'll let you have the money, Colonel," offered his bitter enemy of the bony fist.

"Thanks, Mort," returned the colonel gratefully. "However, it is not necessary to display the fact to the entire gathering that I now have a pair of those deuces."

Washer quickly reached over, s.n.a.t.c.hed the colonel's cards, replaced them with his own and went on dealing.

"I think we can handle it all among us, Johnny," figured Courtney.

Shortly afterward, Loring, in high glee, separated Polly from a hilarious game of drop-the-handkerchief.

"Well, Polly, it's all over!" he exulted. "Johnny has been in to see his financial backers. He has bought the Wobbles property and he has made his million dollars."

"If Mr. Courtney hasn't any fireworks he must telephone for some right away," declared Polly in delight, and suddenly her eyes moistened. "I'm as dippy about Johnny as his own mother!" she added.

"And in just the same way," returned Loring, secretly glad to recognize that fact. "When you can spare a little time for it, Polly, you might become dippy about me."

"I am," she acknowledged, putting her hand upon his arm affectionately.

"But you don't want to marry me," protested Loring, a trace of pain contracting his brows. "I need you, Polly!"

"Please don't, Ashley," she begged. "It's a for-sure fact that I'm never going to forget poor Billy. Don't let that stop us being pals, though, please!"

"Certainly not," agreed Loring, with as much cheerfulness as she could have wished, and burying deeply for the last time the hope that he had cherished.

"Look here, Loring," charged Val Russel, striding over with Mrs.

Follison; "you'll kindly come into this game or give us back our Polly."

"You'll have to do without your Polly for a minute, children," insisted that young woman. "She is to be the bearer of glad tidings," and giving her eyes another dab she hurried away to the house.

She found Constance alone in the library, instructing herself with an article on mushroom culture.

"I can read your palm without looking at it, pretty lady," bubbled Polly. "A large blond gentleman with handsome blue eyes and a million dollars in his pocket is about to offer you a proposal of marriage."

Constance, suppressing a rising resentment, turned the leaf of her mushroom article. The next page began a startling political series, which demanded of the public in violent headlines: "Who Spends Your Money?" but Constance perused it carefully without noticing the difference.

"I've had my palm read before," she presently observed.

"You don't seem to be alive to the shock I'm giving you," protested Polly. "Really, girlie, I have some big news for you. Johnny Gamble has finished the making of his million!"

"I wish that word million had never been invented!" suddenly flared Constance. "I'm tired of hearing it. The very thought of it makes me ill." How did Polly come to know it first?

"I wouldn't care what they'd call it if it would only buy as much,"