t she be su'prised an'
tickled. I kin jes' see huh now. Oh, mistah policy-sha'k, I got you
now. I been layin' fu' you fu' a long time, but you's my meat at
las'."

He marched into the policy shop like a conqueror. To the amazement of
the clerk, he turned out a pocketful of small coin on the table and
played it all in "gigs," "straddles and combinations."

"I'll call on you about ha' pas' fou', Mr. McFadden," he announced
exultantly as he went out.

"Faith, sor," said McFadden to his colleague, "if that nagur does
ketch it he'll break us, sure."

Sam could hardly wait for half-past four. A minute before the time he
burst in upon McFadden and demanded the drawings. They were handed to
him. He held his breath as his eye went down the column of figures.
Then he gasped and staggered weakly out of the room. The policy sharks
had triumphed again.

Sam walked the streets until nine o'clock that night. He was afraid to
go home to Polly. He knew that she had been to the jug and found--. He
groaned, but at last his very helplessness drove him in. Polly, with
swollen eyes, was sitting by the table, the empty jug lying on its
side before her.

"Sam," she exclaimed, "whaih's my money? Whaih's my money I been
wo'kin' fu' all dis time?"

"Why--Why, Polly--"

"Don' go beatin' 'roun' de bush. I want 'o know whaih my money is; you
tuck it."

"Polly, I dremp--"

"I do' keer what you dremp, I want my money fu' my dress."

His face was miserable.

"I thought sho' dem numbers 'u'd come out, an'--"

The woman flung herself upon the floor and burst into a storm of
tears. Sam bent over her. "Nemmine, Polly," he said. "Nemmine. I
thought I'd su'prise you. Dey beat me dis time." His teeth clenched.
"But when I ketch dem policy sha'ks--"

THE TRAGEDY AT THREE FORKS

It was a drizzly, disagreeable April night. The wind was howling in a
particularly dismal and malignant way along the valleys and hollows of
that part of Central Kentucky in which the rural settlement of Three
Forks is situated. It had been "trying to rain" all day in a
half-hearted sort of manner, and now the drops were flying about in a
cold spray. The night was one of dense, inky blackness, occasionally
relieved by flashes of lightning. It was hardly a night on which a
girl should be out. And yet one was out, scudding before the storm,
with clenched teeth and wild eyes, wrapped head and shoulders in a
great blanket shawl, and looking, as she sped along l