“I know⁠—I know. But those Liverpool cables didn’t come till all hours. Well, as I was saying, Mr. Corthell, I had this deal on hand⁠—it was that wheat, Laura, I was telling you about this morning⁠—five million bushels of it, and I found out from my English agent that I could slam it right into a couple of fellows over there, if we could come to terms. We came to terms right enough. Some of that wheat I sold at a profit of fifteen cents on every bushel. My broker and I figured it out just now before I started home, and, as I say, I’m a clean half million to the good. So much for looking ahead a little further than the next man.” He dropped into a chair and stretched his arms wide. “Whoo! I’m tired Laura. Seems as though I’d been on my feet all day. Do you suppose Mary, or Martha, or Maggie, or whatever her name is, could rustle me a good strong cup of tea.

“Haven’t you dined, Curtis?” cried Laura.