They were
breakfasting in the tiny flat which was theirs for but three short
months longer.
"Guess!" he said. "No, don't! I can't wait. It's the family luck, old
girl, turned at last! It's the original gorgeous chance again with a
practical dead certainty pushing behind. It's the Winhalla Railway
turning up trumps just in time."
And, with a whoop that might have been heard from garret to basement,
Jerry swept his sister from her chair, and waltzed her giddily round the
little room till she cried breathlessly for mercy.
"Oh, but do tell me!" she gasped, when he set her down again. "I want to
understand, Jerry. Don't be so mad. Tell me exactly what has happened!"
"I'll tell you," said Jerry, sitting down on the tablecloth. "It's a
letter from Gardner--my broker and man of business generally--written
last night to tell me that one of these swaggering capitalists has got
hold of the Winhalla Railway scheme, and is going to make things hum.
Shares are going up already; and they'll run sky high by the end of the
week. It's bound to be all right. It was always sound enough. It only
wanted capital. He doesn't tell me the bounder's name, but that's no
matter. I don't want to go into partnership. I shall sell, sell, sell,
at the top of the boom. Gardner's to be trusted. He'll know--and
then--and then----"
"Yes; what does it mean?" the girl broke in. "I want to know exactly,
Jerry!"
"Mean?" he echoed, his hands upon her shoulders.
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