Cast Adrift. T. S. Arthur

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СКАЧАТЬ me ten,” she said; “the woman gave you thirty. I heard her say so. And she's going to bring you seventy to-morrow.”

      “You'll only waste it, Pinky,” remonstrated Mrs. Bray. “It will all be gone before morning.”

      “Fan,” said the woman, leaning toward Mrs. Bray and speaking in a low, confidential tone, “I dreamed of a cow last night, and that's good luck, you know. Tom Oaks made a splendid hit last Saturday—drew twenty dollars—and Sue Minty got ten. They're all buzzing about it down in our street, and going to Sam McFaddon's office in a stream.”

      “Do they have good luck at Sam McFaddon's?” asked Mrs. Bray, with considerable interest in her manner.

      “It's the luckiest place that I know. Never dreamed of a cow or a hen that I didn't make a hit, and I dreamed of a cow last night. She was giving such a splendid pail of milk, full to the brim, just as old Spot and Brindle used to give. You remember our Spot and Brindle, Fan?”

      “Oh yes.” There was a falling inflection in Mrs. Bray's voice, as if the reference had sent her thoughts away back to other and more innocent days.

      The two women sat silent for some moments after that; and when Pinky spoke, which she did first, it was in lower and softer tones:

      “I don't like to think much about them old times, Fan; do you? I might have done better. But it's no use grizzling about it now. What's done's done, and can't be helped. Water doesn't run up hill again after it's once run down. I've got going, and can't stop, you see. There's nothing to catch at that won't break as soon as you touch it. So I mean to be jolly as I move along.”

      “Laughing is better than crying at any time,” returned Mrs. Bray; “here are five more;” and she handed Pinky Swett another bank-bill. “I'm going to try my luck. Put half a dollar on ten different rows, and we'll go shares on what is drawn. I dreamed the other night that I saw a flock of sheep, and that's good luck, isn't it?”

      Pinky thrust her hand into her pocket and drew out a worn and soiled dream-book.

      “A flock of sheep; let me see;” and she commenced turning over the leaves. “Sheep; here it is: 'To see them is a sign of sorrow—11, 20, 40, 48. To be surrounded by many sheep denotes good luck—2, 11, 55.' That's your row; put down 2, 11, 55. We'll try that. Next put down 41 11, 44—that's the lucky row when you dream of a cow.”

      As Pinky leaned toward her friend she dropped her parasol.

      “That's for luck, maybe,” she said, with a brightening face. “Let's see what it says about a parasol;” and she turned over her dream-book.

      “For a maiden to dream she loses her parasol shows that her sweetheart is false and will never marry her—5, 51, 56.”

      “But you didn't dream about a parasol, Pinky.”

      “That's no matter; it's just as good as a dream. 5, 51, 56 is the row. Put that down for the second, Fan.”

      As Mrs. Bray was writing out these numbers the clock on the mantel struck five.

      “8, 12, 60,” said Pinky, turning to the clock; “that's the clock row.”

      And Mrs. Bray put down these figures also.

      “That's three rows,” said Pinky, “and we want ten.” She arose, as she spoke, and going to the front window, looked down upon the street.

      “There's an organ-grinder; it's the first thing I saw;” and she came back fingering the leaves of her dream-book. “Put down 40, 50, 26.”

      Mrs. Bray wrote the numbers on her slip of paper.

      “It's November; let's find the November row.” Pinky consulted her book again. “Signifies you will have trouble through life—7, 9, 63. That's true as preaching; I was born in November, and I've had it all trouble. How many rows does that make?”

      “Five.”

      “Then we will cut cards for the rest;” and Pinky drew a soiled pack from her pocket, shuffled the cards and let her friends cut them.

      “Ten of diamonds;” she referred to the dream-book. “10, 13, 31; put that down.”

      The cards were shuffled and cut again.

      “Six of clubs—6, 35, 39.”

      Again they were cut and shuffled. This time the knave of clubs was turned up.

      “That's 17, 19, 28,” said Pinky, reading from her book.

      The next cut gave the ace of clubs, and the policy numbers were 18, 63, 75.

      “Once more, and the ten rows will be full;” and the cards were cut again.

      “Five of hearts—5, 12, 60;” and the ten rows were complete.

      “There's luck there, Fan; sure to make a hit,” said Pinky, with almost childish confidence, as she gazed at the ten rows of figures. “One of 'em can't help coming out right, and that would be fifty dollars—twenty-five for me and twenty-five for you; two rows would give a hundred dollars, and the whole ten a thousand. Think of that, Fan! five hundred dollars apiece.”

      “It would break Sam McFaddon, I'm afraid,” remarked Mrs. Bray.

      “Sam's got nothing to do with it,” returned Pinky.

      “He hasn't?”

      “No.”

      “Who has, then?”

      “His backer.”

      “What's that?”

      “Oh, I found it all out—I know how it's done. Sam's got a backer—a man that puts up the money. Sam only sells for his backer. When there's a hit, the backer pays.”

      “Who's Sam's backer, as you call him?”

      “Couldn't get him to tell; tried him hard, but he was close as an oyster. Drives in the Park and wears a two thousand dollar diamond pin; he let that out. So he's good for the hits. Sam always puts the money down, fair and square.”

      “Very well; you get the policy, and do it right off, Pinky, or the money'll slip through your fingers.”

      “All right,” answered Pinky as she folded the slip of paper containing the lucky rows. “Never you fear. I'll be at Sam McFaddon's in ten minutes after I leave here.”

      “And be sure,” said Mrs. Bray, “to look after the baby to-night, and see that it doesn't perish with cold; the air's getting sharp.”

      “It ought to have something warmer than cotton rags on its poor little body,” returned Pinky. “Can't you get it some flannel? It will die if you don't.”

      “I sent it a warm petticoat last week,” said Mrs. Bray.

      “You did?”

      “Yes; СКАЧАТЬ