Part 3 (1/2)
”That race should call for an inquiry,” sternly stated Gresham.
”You must have bet on the favorite,” returned Gamble, and laughed when Gresham winced. Not a shade of Gresham's expression was escaping him now.
”We all did,” acknowledged Constance smilingly. ”This is the first time I ever bet on the races; and I sent down to bet on every horse in this last one, so I'll be sure to win just once. I suppose you attend the races frequently, Mr. Gamble?”
”I'll give you one more guess,” he returned. ”I don't like to walk home.”
”You won't have to walk this time,” she reminded him.
”Not while I ride!” a.s.serted Polly stoutly.
”I'm so glad you won, Johnny. I guess you'll stay in Baltimore now.”
”And give this back? I'll get an injunction against myself first.
Polly, I owe you twenty-five hundred dollars. Here's the money.”
”This is so sudden,” she coyly observed. ”My memory's poor, though, Johnny.”
”It's a promise I made myself: If I won this bet half of the winnings belonged to the babies' hotel.”
”Wait, Johnny,” objected Polly, pus.h.i.+ng the money away from her. ”I'd rather have you on the new subscription list, by and by, for the furnis.h.i.+ng and remodeling fund.”
”I'll go on both of them,” he offered, putting the money in her lap.
”You ought to know that I stick.”
”Yes, you do,” she sighed, and pa.s.sed him the list, covertly pointing out Gresham's name as she did so and showing the amount opposite it to be one hundred dollars.
”Mr. Gamble wants to make sure that you'll get it,” sneered Gresham, and laughed. He was anxious to belittle Gamble in the eyes of Constance.
”If Johnny Gamble puts his name down it's as good as paid!” flared Polly. ”By the way, Mr. Gresham, I have that Corn Exchange check blank for you now.”
She handed him the blank and her fountain-pen; and, with some slight reluctance, Mr. Gresham paid his subscription.
”Thanks,” said Polly briskly. ”Johnny, did you say I should put you on the other list for the same amount?”
Constance leaned hastily forward, with the impulse to interfere against so foolhardy a thing, but caught herself; and, leaning back, she looked at Johnny Gamble in profile and smiled. There was something fascinating about the fellow's clear-eyed a.s.surance as he cheerfully answered: ”If you please, Polly.”
”It will take you four hundred hours now to make your million,” Gresham advised him, with scarcely concealed contempt.
”I'm no loafer,” Gamble declared.
They all laughed at that.
”I beg your pardon,” apologized Gresham. ”Let's see. How long will it take you to make your million at the rate of five thousand an hour? How many hours a day?”
”About seven on regular days; three on Sat.u.r.days.”
Both the girls were still laughing at the absurdity of it all.
”Counting off for Sundays, you should have your million in about forty days,” persisted Gresham, figuring it with pencil and paper.