"No mistake, no mistake," screamed Maria. "Your number was 400,012. Here
it is in the paper this evening. I remember it well, because I keep an
account."

"But I know you're wrong," answered Trina, beginning to tremble in spite
of herself. "Why should I win?"

"Eh? Why shouldn't you?" cried her mother.

In fact, why shouldn't she? The idea suddenly occurred to Trina. After
all, it was not a question of effort or merit on her part. Why should
she suppose a mistake? What if it were true, this wonderful fillip of
fortune striking in there like some chance-driven bolt?

"Oh, do you think so?" she gasped.

The stranger in the drab overcoat came forward.

"It's the agent," cried two or three voices, simultaneously.

"I guess you're one of the lucky ones, Miss Sieppe," he said. "I suppose
you have kept your ticket."

"Yes, yes; four three oughts twelve--I remember."

"That's right," admitted the other. "Present your ticket at the local
branch office as soon as possible--the address is printed on the back
of the ticket--and you'll receive a check on our bank for five thousand
dollars. Your number will have to be verified on our official list, but
there's hardly a chance of a mistake. I congratulate you."