Connie's pertness vanished, and the steadfast gray eyes brightened with quick upwellings of sympathy. "No, dear; it will doubtless be in everybody's mouth before many days. You remember what I told you once about Dick's prospects?—that day we were on top of El Reposo?"
"Yes."
"Well, I think the Little Myriad isn't going to keep its promise; Dick thinks so."
Myra sat quietly under it for a little while, and then got up to go to the window. When she spoke she did not turn her head.
"He will be ruined, you said. What will you do, Connie?"
"I? What can I do? Poppa would lend him more money, but he wouldn't take it,—not from us."
Silence while the bronze-figured clock on the mantel measured a full minute. Then:—
"There is one way you can make him take it."
"How?"