"They're not used to hard work," he earnestly informed her. "Say, I need a million dollars."
"Take enough while you're at it! What do you want it for?"
"Her stack's that high."
"She'd never count it."
"I know; but Aunt Pattie and I would. I have to have it, Polly."
"Then you'll get it," she resignedly admitted. "Why, Johnny, I believe you could get Constance, too!" she added with suddenly accelerated belief in him. "Well, I'm certainly for you. Tell me, what can I do to help you?"
"Poison Gresham for me."
"Give me your fifteen cents," she directed. "He's about as popular with her as a flea with a dog; but he goes with the furniture. He was wished on her by her Aunt Gertrude."
"Why did her aunt hate her?"
"She hated everybody; so she went in for charity. She made six wills, each time leaving all her money to a different public institution; but they each one did something she didn't like before she could die. The last time she decided to give Constance a chance, made a new will and took sick the same night. Constance has the interest on her million till she marries Gresham; then she gets it all. If she marries anybody else before Gresham dies the money goes to a home for blind cats, or something like that."