"Me and Arthur? Rather! I don't suppose we shall be married this side of the next eclipse if we don't do something of the sort! I'm not proud, as long as they don't mix the husbands up; I've had to watch Arthur, I can tell you, ever since he got his new Sans Souci hat!... But really, Lennie, do you think you could get us a ticket or whatever it is?" "If you _really_ mean it----" "Of _course_ I mean it. Oh, I say, you are a brick! What a lark!" And so Miss Umpleby, who otherwise would have had to wait for another year, put her name down for that public wedding-breakfast. And so a word was dropped here and a word was dropped there, and the business spies stole back and forth piecing gathered rumours together, and, some days before the announcements appeared in the papers, Doubledays' and the rest of them knew that they were done. No counter-device they could have prepared in the time would have compared for one single instant with that clean-cut and beauty-bright idea of Dorothy's. So some of them touched hidden springs that caused letters on over-advertised business to appear in the papers, but most of them took their defeat magnanimously, merely sending out fresh spies to try to discover "whose notion Miller had stolen that time" and to try to secure the services of that ingenious brain for themselves. Oh, Dorothy would have had no difficulty whatever in selling herself two or three times over! In fact she did so, at varying figures, though of course not to Hallowell's trade competitors. It is quite simple. When you are more anxious to sell your brains than somebody else is to buy them, then your price is a low one; but when people come running to you with their money in their hands, that is the time to stick it on.... Dorothy stuck it on. If Stan got his game of polo once in a while he must have just as good ponies as anybody else's...