“What did you say about my automobile? Has it arrived?”
Armstrong’s face was filled with eager expectation as he came up behind Helen, followed by Uncle Peabody. He drew her affectionately toward him.
“You wretch!” cried Helen, “you have been eavesdropping.”
“Not an eavesdrop,” protested Jack, “and I can prove it by a witness. When I came down-stairs I looked for my beloved spouse upon the terrace and found her not. The gentle Annetta confided to me that you and the Signorina Thayer were in the garden; I set out upon my quest and found you here discussing my automobile or some one else’s. Again I ask you, have you news of its arrival?”
“No, Jack—no news as yet; and you make out so good a case that I must absolve you. Since you insist on knowing, we were discussing the very prosaic subject of matrimony.”
“Why discourage Miss Thayer from making the attempt simply because of your own sad case?” Armstrong queried, releasing his wife and seating himself beside her on the edge of the balustrade. “Marriage is a lottery—so saith the philosopher. We all know the preponderance of blanks and small prizes, yet each one feels certain that he will be the lucky one. Once in a while a chap pulls out the capital prize, and that encourages the others, though it ought to discourage them, because it lessens the chances just so much. But what I object to is the growling afterward, when each should realize that he is getting exactly what he ought to have expected.”
“But it is not fair that both you and Helen should have drawn the lucky numbers,” Inez declared. “It makes it so hopeless for the rest of us.”
“There, Sir Fisher,” cried Helen, “you have gained the compliment for which you strove. Art satisfied?”
“No one has drawn me yet,” suggested Uncle Peabody, “and I am a capital prize—I admit it.”
“It is a shame to throw cold water on Miss Thayer’s beautiful sentiment,” continued Armstrong. “Such thoughts are so rare that they should be encouraged; but the facts of the case are that the capital prizes in the men’s lottery were discontinued long ago. No—among the girls they are still to be won at rare intervals, but the only way to distinguish the men is by looking up their rating in Bradstreet’s, or their mother’s family name in the Social Register. Other than this, one man is as bad as another, if not worse.”