"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 gesture; "I knew wheat was going to go up.
I knew it from the first, when all the rest of em laughed at me.I knew this European demand would hit us hard about this time.I knew it was a good thing to buy wheat; I knew it was a good thing to have special agents over in Europe.Oh, they'll all buy now--when I've showed 'em the way.Upon my word, I haven't talked so much in a month of Sundays.You must pardon me, Mr.Corthell.I don't make five hundred thousand every day.""But this is the last--isn't it?" said Laura.
"Yes," admitted Jadwin, with a quick, deep breath.
"I'm done now.No more speculating.Let some one else have a try now.See if they can hold five million bushels till it's wanted.My, my, I am tired--as I've said before.D'that tea come, Laura?""What's that in your hand?" she answered, smiling.
Jadwin stared at the cup and saucer he held, whimsically."Well, well," he exclaimed, "I must be flustered.Corthell," he declared between swallows, "take my advice.Buy May wheat.It'll beat art all hollow.""Oh, dear, no," returned the artist."I should lose my senses if I won, and my money if I didn't.
"That's so.Keep out of it.It's a rich man's game.
And at that, there's no fun in it unless you risk more than you can afford to lose.Well, let's not talk shop.You're an artist, Mr.Corthell.What do you think of our house?"Later on when they had said good-by to Corthell, and when Jadwin was making the rounds of the library, art gallery, and drawing-rooms--a nightly task which he never would intrust to the servants--turning down the lights and testing the window fastenings, his wife said:
"And now you are out of it--for good."
"I don't own a grain of wheat," he assured her."I've got to be out of it."The next day he went down town for only two or three hours in the afternoon.But he did not go near the Board of Trade building.He talked over a few business matters with the manager of his real estate office, wrote an unimportant letter or two, signed a few orders, was back at home by five o'clock, and in the evening took Laura, Page, and Landry Court to the theatre.
After breakfast the next morning, when he had read his paper, he got up, and, thrusting his hands in his pockets, looked across the table at his wife.
"Well," he said."Now what'll we do?"
She put down at once the letter she was reading.
"Would you like to drive in the park?" she suggested.
"It is a beautiful morning."
"M--m--yes," he answered slowly."All right.Let's drive in the park."But she could see that the prospect was not alluring to him.
"No," she said, "no.I don't think you want to do that.""I don't think I do, either," he admitted."The fact is, Laura, I just about know that park by heart.Is there anything good in the magazines this month?"She got them for him, and he installed himself comfortably in the library, with a box of cigars near at hand.
"Ah," he said, fetching a long breath as he settled back in the deep-seated leather chair."Now this is what I call solid comfort.Better than stewing and fussing about La Salle Street with your mind loaded down with responsibilities and all.This is my idea of life."But an hour later, when Laura--who had omitted her ride that morning--looked into the room, he was not there.
The magazines were helter-skeltered upon the floor and table, where he had tossed each one after turning the leaves.A servant told her that Mr.Jadwin was out in the stables.
She saw him through the window, in a cap and great-coat, talking with the coachman and looking over one of the horses.But he came back to the house in a little while, and she found him in his smoking-room with a novel in his hand.
"Oh, I read that last week," she said, as she caught a glimpse of the title."Isn't it interesting? Don't you think it is good?""Oh--yes--pretty good," he admitted."Isn't it about time for lunch? Let's go to the matinee this afternoon, Laura.Oh, that's so, it's Thursday; I forgot.""Let me read that aloud to you," she said, reaching for the book."I know you'll be interested when you get farther along.""Honestly, I don't think I would be," he declared.
"I've looked ahead in it.It seems terribly dry.Do you know," he said, abruptly, "if the law was off I'd go up to Geneva Lake and fish through the ice.Laura, how would you like to go to Florida?""Oh, I tell you," she exclaimed."Let's go up to Geneva Lake over Christmas.We'll open up the house and take some of the servants along and have a house party."Eventually this was done.The Cresslers and the Gretrys were invited, together with Sheldon Corthell and Landry Court.Page and Aunt Wess' came as a matter of course.Jadwin brought up some of the horses and a couple of sleighs.On Christmas night they had a great tree, and Corthell composed the words and music for a carol which had a great success.
