Gretry turned a pale face upon his principal.
“I’ve just received,” he said, “the answers to our cables to Liverpool and Paris. I offered wheat at both places, as you know, cheaper than we’ve ever offered it there before.”
“Yes—well?”
“Well,” answered Gretry, looking gravely into Jadwin’s eyes, “well—they won’t take it.”
On the morning of her birthday—the thirteenth of the month—when Laura descended to the breakfast room, she found Page already there. Though it was barely half-past seven, her sister was dressed for the street. She wore a smart red hat, and as she stood by the French windows, looking out, she drew her gloves back and forth between her fingers, with a nervous, impatient gesture.
“Why,” said Laura, as she sat down at her place, “why, Pagie, what is in the wind today?”
“Landry is coming,” Page explained, facing about and glancing at the watch pinned to her waist. “He is going to take me down to see the Board of Trade—from the visitor’s gallery, you know. He said this would probably be a great day. Did Mr. Jadwin come home last night?”
Laura shook her head, without speech. She did not choose to put into words the fact that for three days—with the exception of an hour or two, on the evening after that horrible day of her visit to the Cresslers’ house—she had seen nothing of her husband.
“Landry says,” continued Page, “that it is awful—down there, these days. He says that it is the greatest fight in the history of La Salle Street. Has Mr. Jadwin, said anything to you? Is he going to win?”
“I don’t know,” answered Laura, in a low voice; “I don’t know anything about it, Page.”
She was wondering if even Page had forgotten. When she had come into the room, her first glance had been towards her place at table. But there was nothing there, not even so much as an envelope; and no one had so much as wished her joy of the little anniversary. She had thought Page might have remembered, but her sister’s next words showed that she had more on her mind than birthdays.
“Laura,” she began, sitting down opposite to her, and unfolding her napkin, with laborious precision. “Laura—Landry and I—Well … we’re going to be married in the fall.”
“Why, Pagie,” cried Laura, “I’m just as glad as I can be for you. He’s a fine, clean fellow, and I know he will make you a good husband.”
Page drew a deep breath.
“Well,” she said, “I’m glad you think so, too. Before you and Mr. Jadwin were married, I wasn’t sure about having him care for me, because at that time—well—” Page looked up with a queer little smile, “I guess you could have had him—if you had wanted to.”
“Oh, that,” cried Laura. “Why, Landry never really cared for me. It was all the silliest kind of flirtation. The moment he knew you better, I stood no chance at all.”
“We’re going to take an apartment on Michigan Avenue, near the Auditorium,” said Page, “and keep house. We’ve talked it all over, and know just how much it will cost to live and keep one servant. I’m going to serve the loveliest little dinners; I’ve learned the kind of cooking he likes already. Oh, I guess there he is now,” she cried, as they heard the front door close.
Landry came in, carrying a great bunch of cut flowers, and a box of candy. He was as spruce as though he were already the bridegroom, his cheeks pink, his blonde hair radiant. But he was thin and a little worn, a dull feverish glitter came and went in his eyes, and his nervousness, the strain and excitement which beset him were in his every gesture, in every word of his rapid speech.
“We’ll have to hurry,” he told Page. “I must be down there hours ahead of time this morning.”
“How is Curtis?” demanded Laura. “Have you seen him lately? How is he getting on with—with his speculating?”
Landry made a sharp gesture of resignation.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “I guess nobody knows. We had a fearful day yesterday, but I think we controlled the situation at the end. We ran the price up and up and up till I thought it would never stop. If the Pit thought Mr. Jadwin was beaten, I guess they found out how they were mistaken. For a time there, we were just driving them. But then Mr. Gretry sent word to us in the Pit to sell, and we couldn’t hold them. They came back at us like wolves; they beat the price down five cents, in as many minutes. We had to quit selling, and buy again. But then Mr. Jadwin went at them with a rush. Oh, it was grand! We steadied the price at a dollar and fifteen, stiffened it up to eighteen and a half, and then sent it up again, three cents at a time, till we’d hammered it back to a dollar and a quarter.”
“But Curtis himself,” inquired Laura, “is he all right, is he well?”
“I only saw him once,” answered Landry. “He was in Mr. Gretry’s office. Yes, he looked all right. He’s nervous, of course. But Mr. Gretry looks like the sick man. He looks all frazzled out.”
“I guess, we’d better be going,” said Page, getting up from the table. “Have you had your breakfast, Landry? Won’t you have some coffee?”
“Oh, I breakfasted hours ago,” he answered. “But you are right. We had better be moving. If you are going to get a seat in the gallery, you must be there half an hour ahead of time, to
