One morning, the third or fourth, as I was going in to breakfast with her, the head-waiter stopped her as he opened the door, and asked modestly if she could spare him a few tickets, for he thought he could sell some. To my amazement the unprincipled creature said: “Why, certainly. How many?” and instantly took a package out of her pocket, where she seemed always to have them. He asked, Would twenty be more than she could spare? and she answered: “Not at all. Here are twenty-five.” and bestowed the whole package upon him. That afternoon Reuben Camp came lounging up toward us, where I sat with her on the corner of the piazza, and said that if she would like to let him try his luck with some tickets for the Talk he would see what he could do. “You can have all you want, Reuben,” she said, “and I hope you’ll have better luck than I have. I’m perfectly disgusted with people.” She fished several packages out of her pocket this time, and he asked: “Do you mean that I can have them all?” “Every one, and a band of music into the bargain,” she answered, recklessly. But she seemed a little daunted when he quietly took them. “You know there are a hundred here?” “Yes, I should like to see what I can do among the natives. Then there is a construction train over at the junction, and I know a lot of the fellows. I guess some of ‘em would like to come.” “The tickets are a dollar each, you know,” she suggested. “That’s all right,” said Camp. “Well, good-afternoon.” Mrs. Makely turned to me with a kind of gasp as he shambled away. “I don’t know about that.” “About having the whole crew of a construction train at the Talk? I dare say it won’t be pleasant to the ladies who have bought tickets.” “_Oh_!” said Mrs. Makely, with astonishing contempt, “I don’t care what _they_ think. But Reuben has got all my tickets, and suppose he keeps them so long that I won’t have time to sell any, and then throws them back on my hands? _I_ know!” she added, joyously. “I can go around now and tell people that my tickets are all gone; and I’ll go instantly and have the clerk hold all he has left at a premium.” She came back looking rather blank. “He hasn’t got a single one left. He says an old native came in this morning and took every last one of them--he doesn’t remember just how many. I believe they’re going to speculate on them; and if Reuben Camp serves me a trick like that--Why,” she broke off, “I believe I’ll speculate on them myself. I should like to know why I shouldn’t. Oh, I should just _like_ to make some of those creatures pay double, or treble, for the chances they’ve refused. Ah, Mrs. Bulkham,” she called out to a lady who was coming down the veranda toward us, “you’ll be glad to know I’ve got rid of all my tickets. _Such_ a relief!” “You _have_?” Mrs. Bulkham retorted. “Every one.” “I thought,” said Mrs. Bulkham, “that you understood I wanted one for my daughter and myself, if she came.”