“You are a dear brave ‘sport.’ The next time I shall not be afraid to consult with you on all my business problems.” “And I shall try not to retard progress.” “It gives me more courage to go ahead when I know you are in on the deal; things seem to turn out better.” “We all feel that way, dear. The troubles of life diminish when they are shared by others. Even the greatest becomes smaller when one knows that others are helping to bear it. It seems selfish, but misery loves company.” * * * * * “The cable, has it come yet, Miss Franklin?” “Not yet.” Walter seated himself at his desk. There was a far away look in his face. “It should have been here four days ago. What do you think could be delaying Proctor?” “Possibly it is the cable that’s delayed, and not Mr. Proctor. Forget it, Mr. Gary, then it will be sure to come.” “How can I forget it when so much depends on that first consignment? I’ve hardly slept a wink since it was sent.” “You’ll be a wreck if you keep worrying like this,” rejoined the little stenographer. “I’d be all right if I could only hear from Proctor.” Walter rose nervously from the chair at every turn of the door-knob. Would the thing never come? Surely, he must take Miss Franklin’s advice and stop worrying about it. So he bade her close up, and strolled slowly homeward. He shrank from telling his mother again that he had had no word from London, for he knew only too well with what effort she was suppressing her anxiety. He thought of diverting his course to Betty’s office, but his better judgment caused him to continue; for he knew that even though Betty were ready to leave, some admirer would be waiting for her in his car, and she generally preferred riding to walking. As he entered the door he heard his mother’s voice softly singing a familiar tune; it encouraged him. “Mother,” he called, feigning indifference, “that darn thing hasn’t come yet.” “Mr. Proctor appears to be having some difficulty in disposing of the goods, doesn’t he?” “I don’t know what to think. Even if there was no market for the lumber, I should think he would wire.” “Never mind,” suggested Mrs. Gary. “Don’t cross bridges until you come to them. Go and see Betty this evening, she will cheer you up a bit.” “Oh, no, I’ll wait and see if I make a success of this deal first; because if I lose, it will be good-bye to her anyway.” “Why good-bye! It will surely make no difference to her if you win or lose. I shouldn’t think she was that sort of a girl.” “She’s a fine girl, but she loves money and all it buys.” “No more than other girls; they all love money.” “But there is a difference. Take Sarah White for instance, the question of money isn’t in her make up. She’d as soon marry Jack Evans and keep her position, if it would help, as not.” “Yes, I believe she would,” affirmed Mrs. Gary, “but wouldn’t Betty?” “Never; she wouldn’t marry the best man on earth unless he were rich.” “Perhaps she has never loved.”