"Just come outside and I'll tell you," whispered Johnny with a grin. "Ashley, how do you like your car?" asked Polly in the groaning calm which followed Sweeney's infamous strike-out. "I'm just designing a private medal for the builder," replied Loring. "Self-cranker, isn't it?" "Self-cranker, automatic oiler, and supplies its own gasolene. Why?" "Well, Constance is talking of buying one, and mine is a little too muscular for her. Suppose you take her for a spin after the game and deliver her safely to her Aunt Pattie. I'll take the boys back in my car." "I'm cheating you in the exchange, but my conscience doesn't hurt me in the least," accepted Loring with alacrity. "I've never been in your car, Ashley," insinuated Gresham. "You might invite me to try it out too." "At five-thirty to-morrow evening," Ashley coolly advised him. "I'd be very glad to have you come along now; but the car is engaged for a strictly private demonstration." Since the others were prepared to guy him unmercifully if he persisted, Gresham hinted no more and, very much to his discomfort, saw Loring gaily drive away with Constance. On Riverside Drive, Loring spent the first fifteen minutes in extolling the virtues of his car and Constance listened with patient attention; but during the first convenient silence she surprised Loring with a bit of crisp business talk. "Would you mind telling me the history of Mr. Gamble's partnership with Mr. Collaton?" she asked. "I guess I heard what you said," he returned doubtfully, and he looked at her in astonishment. "Of course you know that Johnny is a client of mine." "I know that he is a friend of yours also," she reminded him. "On that basis I'll tell you anything you want to know," laughed Loring. "Johnny was doing an excellent business in real estate speculation when this man Collaton came to him with an enormous irrigation scheme. They formed a partnership. Collaton went out West to superintend the reclaiming of some thousands of acres of arid land,
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