left.
They passed a club, of which a lower window was vacated simultaneously with their coming into view; and a small but ornate figure in pale gray crash hurried down the steps and attached itself to the second row of Madisons. “Good-morning,” said Mr. Wade Trumble. “Thought I’d take a look-in at church this morning myself.”
Care of this encumbrance was usually expected of Laura and Mrs. Madison, but to their surprise Cora offered a sprightly rejoinder and presently dropped behind them with Mr. Trumble. Mr. Trumble was also surprised and, as naively, pleased.
“What’s happened?” he asked with cheerful frankness. “You haven’t given me a chance to talk to you for a long while.”
“Haven’t I?” she smiled enigmatically. “I don’t think you’ve tried very hard.”
This was too careless; it did not quite serve, even for Trumble. “What’s up?” he asked, not without shrewdness. “Is Richard Lindley out of town?”
“I don’t know.”
“I see. Perhaps it’s this new chap, Corliss? Has he left?”
“What nonsense! What have they got to do with my being nice to you?” She gave him a dangerous smile, and it wrought upon him visibly.
“Don’t you ever be nice to me unless you mean it,” he said feebly.
Cora looked grave and sweet; she seemed mysteriously moved. “I never do anything I don’t mean,” she said in a low voice which thrilled the little man. This was machine-work, easy and accurate.
“Cora–-” he began, breathlessly.
“There!” she exclaimed, shifting on the instant to a lively brusqueness. “That’s enough for you just NOW. We’re on our way to church!”
Trumble felt almost that she had accepted him.
“Have you got your penny for the contribution box?” she smiled. “I suppose you really give a great deal to the church. I hear you’re richer and richer.”
“I do pretty well,” he returned, coolly. “You can know just how well, if you like.”
“Not on Sunday,” she laughed; then went on, admiringly, “I hear you’re very dashing in your speculations.”
“Then you’ve heard wrong, because I don’t speculate,” he returned. “I’m not a gambler—except on certainties. I guess I disappointed a friend of yours the other day because I wouldn’t back him on a thousand-to-one shot.”
“Who was that?” she asked, with an expression entirely veiled.
“Corliss. He came to see me; wanted me to put real money into an oil scheme. Too thin!”
“Why is it `too thin’?” she asked carelessly.
“Too far away, for one thing—somewhere in Italy. Anybody who put up his cash would have to do it on Corliss’s bare word that he’s struck oil.”
“Well?” She turned her face to him, and a faint perturbation was manifest in her tone. “Isn’t Mr. Corliss’s `bare word’ supposed to be perfectly good?”
“Oh, I suppose so, but I don’t know. He isn’t known here: nobody really knows anything about him except that he was born here. Besides, I wouldn’t make an investment on my own father’s bare word, if he happened to be alive.”
“Perhaps not!” Cora spoke impulsively, a sudden anger getting the better of her, but she controlled it immediately. “Of course I don’t mean that,” she laughed, sweetly. “But
“I’ll bet they don’t,” said Trumble promptly. “Lindley told me he’d looked it over and couldn’t see his way to.”
“He did?” Cora stiffened perceptibly and bit her lip.
Trumble began to laugh. “This is funny: you trying to talk business! So Corliss has been telling you about it?”
“Yes, he has; and I understand it perfectly. I think there’s an enormous fortune in it, and you’d better not laugh at me: a woman’s instinct about such things is better than a man’s experience sometimes.”
“You’ll find neither Lindley nor your father are going to think so,” he returned skeptically.
She gave him a deep, sweet look. “But I mustn’t be disappointed in you,” she said, with the suggestion of a tremor in her voice, whatever THEY do! You’ll take my advice, won’t you—Wade?”
“I’ll take your advice in anything but business.” He shook his head ominously.
“And wouldn’t you take my advice in business,—she asked very slowly and significantly—“under ANY circumstances?”
“You mean,” he said huskily, “if you were my wife?”
She looked away, and slightly inclined her head. “No,” he answered doggedly, “I wouldn’t. You know mighty well that’s what I want you to be, and I’d give my soul for the tip of your shoe, but business is an entirely different matter, and I–-“
“WADE! she said, with wonderful and thrilling sweetness. They had reached the church; Hedrick and his father had entered; Mrs. Madison and Laura were waiting on the steps. Cora and Trumble came to a stop some yards away. “Wade, I—I WANT you to go into this.”
