But that night in his dreams he saw King Pepper, Confederate, and Red Wing each win a race. And in the morning neither the engines of the CAMPANIA nor the entreaties of Dolly could keep him from the race-track. “I want only six thousand,” he protested. “You can do what you like with the rest, but I am going to bet six thousand on the first one of those three to start. If he loses, I give you my word I’ll not bet another cent, and we’ll sail on Saturday. If he wins Out, I’ll put all I make on the two others.” “Can’t you see,” begged Dolly, “that your dreams are just a rehash of what you think during the day? You have been playing in wonderful luck, that’s all. Each of those horses is likely to win his race. When he does you will have more faith than ever in your silly dreams----” “My silly dreams,” said Carter grinning, “are carrying you to Europe, first class, by the next steamer.” They had been talking while on their way to the bank. When Dolly saw she could not alter his purpose, she made him place the nineteen thousand that remained, after he had taken out the six thousand, in her name. She then drew out the entire amount. “You told me,” said Dolly, smiling anxiously, “I could do what I liked with it. Maybe I have dreams also. Maybe I mean to back them.” She drove away, mysteriously refusing to tell him what she intended to do. When they met at luncheon, she was still much excited, still bristling with a concealed secret. “Did you back your dream?” asked Carter. Dolly nodded happily. “And when am I to know?” “You will read of it,” said Dolly, “to-morrow, in the morning papers. It’s all quite correct. My lawyers arranged it.” “Lawyers!” gasped her husband. “You’re not arranging to lock me in a private madhouse, are you?” “No,” laughed Dolly; “but when I told them how I intended to invest the money they came near putting me there.” “Didn’t they want to know how you suddenly got so rich?” asked Carter. “They did. I told them it came from my husband’s ‘books’! It was a very ‘near’ false-hood.” “It was worse,” said Carter. “It was a very poor pun.” As in their honey-moon days they drove proudly to the track, and when Carter had placed Dolly in a box large enough for twenty, he pushed his way into the crowd around the stand of “Sol” Burbank. That veteran of the turf welcomed him gladly. “Coming to give me my money back?” he called. “No, to take some away,” said Carter, handing him his six thousand. Without apparently looking at it, Burbank passed it to his cashier. “King Pepper, twelve to six thousand,” he called.