back, a huge
Cabana cigar hanging unlighted from the corner of his mouth. He made no
movement towards rising, but gave his hand as he sat, and said: "There,
Penhallow, just read that!"

As the Squire took the telegram, Sibley scratched a match on the back of
his pantaloons and waiting for the sulphur to burn out lit his cigar.
Ever after the smell of sulphur brought to the Squire of Grey Pine the
sense of some pleasant association and then a less agreeable remembrance.

"Read it--read it out loud, Penhallow! It was a near thing. Wardlow
couldn't meet us--be here at noon. Read it--I've read it about ten
times--want to hear it again. I've been as near broke as you--but that's
an old story. When you're at your last dollar, buy a fast pair of
trotters--one thousand-dollar pair--and drive them. Up goes your credit!
Told you that once."

Penhallow looked up from the telegram. "Is this certain?"

"Yes, it has been repeated--you can rely on it."

"WASHINGTON, Willard's Hotel.

"Mr. Stanton has given contract for field artillery to the Penhallow
Mills.

"RICHARD AINSELEY."

Penhallow had read it aloud as he stood. Then he sat down.

"Don't speak to me for a moment, Sibley. Thank God!" he murmured, while
the care-wrinkled face of the veteran speculator looked at him with a
faint smile of affectionate regard.

"Well," said Penhallow, "is this all?"

"No. While Cameron was in office the contract was drawn in favour of the
Lancaster Works. We have been urging our own claims, and their Washington
agent, your very particular friend, Mr. Swallow, would have had the job
in a week more. When Stanton saw our bid and that it was really a more
advantageous offer, he sent first for Swallow and then for Ainseley
and settled it at once. I believe your name and well-known character did
the business. Do you know--do you realize what it means to us?"

"Hardly. I had no hope while Cameron was in office. I left it to you and
Ainseley."

"Well, you will see the contract to-morrow." He wriggled on to one leg of
the frail office chair and came down with a crash. He gathered up his two
hundred pounds and laughing said, as he looked at the wreck, "That's what
we would have been tomorrow but for that bit of yellow paper. In six
months you will be a rich man, my friend. Cannon--shells--the whole
outfit. We must get to work at once. An ordnance officer will be here
to-morrow with specifications, and your own knowledge will be invaluable.