“It’s all true.”
It was Claire who replied. She nodded laughingly. And in her eyes was a gladness that illuminated her whole countenance. Then she indicated the man beside her.
“You see, Ivor’s got the close habit, and I guess it isn’t easy for him to say ‘yes.’ Maybe now I’ve saved you getting bug he can hand you the rest.”
McLagan nodded.
“I guessed you’d be wise in a half-hour. That’s why I chose Doc Finch to hand out the news. He’s better than a hundred telephones. Yes, boy, it’s all true. There’s oil enough to float a ship. Get in, if you’ve two cents to buy with. Maybe there’s weeks of grace while my folks play the market. So get in, or our stocks’ll jump sky high. You’ll find it more profitable than a hand at Claire’s table.”
Jubilee eyed the girl. He realised the wonderful light shining in her pretty eyes. But it was the sad voice of Burt Riddell that answered him.
“Maybe it’s more profitable. But me for the hand at Claire’s table. Say, you ain’t going to rob us of that?”
McLagan laughed outright.
“When it comes to guessing I’d say you’ve Jubilee beat a mile.”
“What d’you mean?” Jubilee looked from one to the other and grinned. “Burt got me beat guessing?” He shook his head. “Not on your life, Mac. I didn’t have to guess. I—knew. Say, it beats hell. My best to you both, Claire. The Speedway’ll be hell without you, but—Gee, I must go count my cents. It don’t seem right, buying oil with ’em when I’m yearning to hand you a swell bouquet. Say, look down the sidewalk. See the folks? Doc’s sure been busy. Well, so long. Will you be around at the Speedway to-night? ‘Bon,’ as we used to say in France,” he cried, as the engineer nodded. “It’ll beat Max’s festival to the bone. Come on, Burt. Let’s get a look at our cents and see how best we can roll Victor to help things out.”