Sally looked contentedly down the long table. She felt happy at last.

　　Everybody was talking and laughing now, and her party, rallying after anuncertain start, was plainly the success she had hoped it would be. Thefirst atmosphere of uncomfortable restraint, caused, she was only toowell aware, by her brother Fillmore's white evening waistcoat, had wornoff; and the male and female patrons of Mrs. Meecher's selectboarding-house (transient and residential) were themselves again.

　　At her end of the table the conversation had turned once more to thegreat vital topic of Sally's legacy and what she ought to do with it.

　　The next best thing to having money of one's own, is to dictate thespending of somebody else's, and Sally's guests were finding a good dealof satisfaction in arranging a Budget for her. Rumour having put the sumat their disposal at a high figure, their suggestions had certainspaciousness.

　　"Let me tell you," said Augustus Bartlett, briskly, "what I'd do, if Iwere you." Augustus Bartlett, who occupied an intensely subordinateposition in the firm of Kahn, Morris and Brown, the Wall Street brokers,always affected a brisk, incisive style of speech, as befitted a man inclose touch with the great ones of Finance. "I'd sink a couple ofhundred thousand in some good, safe bond-issue--we've just put one outwhich you would do well to consider--and play about with the rest. WhenI say play about, I mean have a flutter in anything good that crops up.

　　Multiple Steel's worth looking at. They tell me it'll be up to a hundredand fifty before next Saturday."Elsa Doland, the pretty girl with the big eyes who sat on Mr. Bartlett'sleft, had other views.

　　"Buy a theatre. Sally, and put on good stuff.""And lose every bean you've got," said a mild young man, with a deepvoice across the table. "If I had a few hundred thousand," said the mildyoung man, "I'd put every cent of it on Benny Whistler for theheavyweight championship. I've private information that Battling Tukehas been got at and means to lie down in the seventh...""Say, listen," interrupted another voice, "lemme tell you what I'd dowith four hundred thousand...""If I had four hundred thousand," said Elsa Doland, "I know what wouldbe the first thing I'd do.""What's that?" asked Sally.

　　"Pay my bill for last week, due this morning."Sally got up quickly, and flitting down the table, put her arm round herfriend's shoulder and whispered in her ear:

　　"Elsa darling, are you really broke? If you are, you know, I'll..."Elsa Doland laughed.

　　"You're an angel, Sally. There's no one like you. You'd give your lastcent to anyone. Of course I'm not broke. I've just come back from theroad, and I've saved a fortune. I only said that to draw you."Sally returned to her seat, relieved, and found that the company had nowdivided itself into two schools of thought. The conservative and prudentelement, led by Augustus Bartlett, had definitely decided on threehundred thousand in Liberty Bonds and the rest in some safe real estate;while the smaller, more sporting section, impressed by the mild youngman's inside information, had already placed Sally's money on BennyWhistler, doling it out cautiously in small sums so as not to spoil themarket. And so solid, it seemed, was Mr. Tuke's reputation with those inthe inner circle of knowledge that the mild young man was confidentthat, if you went about the matter cannily and without precipitation,three to one might be obtained. It seemed to Sally that the time hadcome to correct certain misapprehensions.