neral movement of the crowd in
the galleries towards the exits, Page rose, drawing a long breath,
pressing her hands an instant to her burning cheeks. She had seen all
that had happened, but she had not understood. The whole morning had
been a whirl and a blur. She had looked down upon a jam of men, who for
three hours had done nothing but shout and struggle. She had seen
Jadwin come into the Pit, and almost at once the shouts had turned to
cheers. That must have meant, she thought, that Jadwin had done
something to please those excited men. They were all his friends, no
doubt. They were cheering him--cheering his success. He had won then!
And yet that announcement from the opposite balcony, to the effect that
business with Mr. Gretry must be stopped, immediately! That had an
ominous ring. Or, perhaps, that meant only a momentary check.

As she descended the stairways, with the departing spectators, she
distinctly heard a man's voice behind her exclaim:

"Well, that does for him!"

Possibly, after all, Mr. Jadwin had lost some money that morning. She
was desperately anxious to find Landry, and to learn the truth of what
had happened, and for a long moment after the last visitors had
disappeared she remained at the foot of the gallery stairway, hoping
that he would come for her. But she saw nothing of him, and soon
remembered she had told him to come for her, only in case he was able
to get away. No doubt he was too busy now. Even if Mr. Jadwin had won,
the morning's work had evidently been of tremendous importance. This
had been a great day for the wheat speculators. It was not surprising
that Landry should be detained. She would wait till she saw him the
next day to find out all that had taken place.

Page returned home. It was long past the hour for luncheon when she
came into the dining-room of the North Avenue house.

"Where is my sister?" she asked of the maid, as she sat down to the
table; "has she lunched yet?"

But it appeared that Mrs. Jadwin had sent down word to say that she
wanted no lunch, that she had a headache and would remain in her room.

Page hurried through with her chocolate and salad, and ordering a cup
of strong tea, carried it up to Laura's "sitting-room" herself.

Laura, in a long tea-gown lay back in the Madeira chair, her hands
clasped behind her head, doing nothing apparently but looking out of
the window. She was paler even than usual, and to Page's mind seemed
preoccupied, and in a