r me for twenty. Now if you
got some red blood in you, let's see it!"

Well, Jared gets up and walks around the room for a minute and fin'ly
he comes over and holds out his hand to Alex.

"You're on!" he says. "Only, I'll say this: If Mabel--er--Miss Evans,
accepts me, I'll be so happy that I won't be good for _any_thing for a
month. If she refuses me, I'll _never_ be any good any more! However,
I'll try it. Perhaps I've been asleep. I don't know. But if this
girl ever marries me--" He stops and bangs his fists on the table.
"Oh, boy!!!!" he winds up.

Just then they is a ring at the telephone. The maid makes a entrance
and claims Mr. Jared Rushton is wanted. In about five minutes, Jared
comes back and apologizes.

"My boss, Mr. Hamilton," he says. "I've always got to let him know
where he can get in touch with me after office hours. I gave him your
phone number before I came here to-night." He turns to Alex. "That's
what it is to be a valuable man," he says. "The boss wants me to get
all the data together for an estimate on one of the biggest contracts
we've ever had a whack at. That means I'll be up all night, so I'll
have to leave now. Our four big contract experts are scattered 'round
the country and the boss will have to go after this one himself
to-morrow. There will be a conference at the Hotel Dubois, and--"

Alex jumps up, his eyes flashin'.

"Why can't _you_ go after that contract?" he shoots out.

Jared looks like he's been hit on the chin.

"_Me_?" he stammers. "Why--why--"

"Why, why, nothin'!" butts in Alex. "Here's a chance for you to show
Miss Evans, your boss, and the rest of the world what's in you. If
your boss calls on you for the figures in this thing, then you must
know more about it than he does, or anybody else in the office. Can
you get him on the phone?"

"But--but I have never sold anything in my life!" says Jared. "You
don't understand this thing at all. It requires experience and--oh,
it's silly to even think of it! Why--"

"Yeh?" butts in Alex. "What's his number?" He rushes to the phone.

"Say, listen--please!" pleads Jared; "it's not a bit regular and--why,
he'd fire me out of hand if I ever did anything like this!"

"The number!" bawls Alex, with the receiver off the hook.

"Riverside 33,312," stammers Jared, wringin' his hands. "But look
here, you mustn't--"

Alex gets the number and Jared falls back in a chair, and mutters
somethin' about