She gave a little start, as though his words brought her back to the present, but she said nothing. "The trustees have come around to it at last. You know Pemberton and the judge wanted a public competition, or something of the kind." "Why don't they have a competition?" she asked quickly. And aroused suddenly, with nervous animation, as if she resented the suggestion of a special favor, she continued, "It would be much fairer to have an open competition!" "Why should we? Isn't Jack the old man's nephew?" She made no reply, and he said nothing more, dampened by the way she took his splendid news. In a little while the others left and they had dinner. Wheeler expected Helen would tell her husband of the decision, but she seemed to have forgotten it. So, finally, he was forced to repeat his announcement. He dropped it casually and coldly:-- "Well, Jack, we're getting that school business cleared up. Can you meet the trustees and the doctor at my office some day this week?" Jackson bubbled over with glee. "Hoorah!" he shouted. "Good for you, Everett! We must have up some champagne." The lawyer, watching Helen's impassive face, felt inclined to moderate Jackson's enthusiasm. "Of course, nothing's settled as to the commission. You'll be asked to prepare sketches after you have consulted with Dr. Everest. That's all." That was enough for the architect. He thought that he could satisfy the director, and if he succeeded with him, the rest of the way was clear. When the champagne came, he pressed his thanks on his cousin. "It's awfully good of you, Everett. I know all the trouble you have taken for me in this matter. You'll have to let me build that camp in the Adirondacks this fall. My heavens!" he went on, too excited to be cautious, "you don't know what a load it takes off my shoulders! I can feel myself free once more. It's a big thing, the first big thing that's come my way since I began. How much do the trustees mean to put into the building?" "That depends," the lawyer answered cautiously. "It will be over half a million, anyway, I should suppose--maybe nearer a million." "It's a great opportunity!" the architect exclaimed, conscious that the more elevated and ideal aspects of the subject were slipping out of sight. "It doesn't come every day, the chance to build a monument like the school." "You're quite right," Wheeler assented. In his excitement, Hart left his seat and began to pace the floor, his hands twisting his napkin nervously. Meanwhile Helen was watching the bubbles break in her champagne glass. Her face had remained utterly blank, although she seemed to be listening to her husband. Perhaps, thought the lawyer, she did not realize what this news meant. So he remarked deliberately:--