"For some reason I don't sleep well. I don't know why."

Dolly looked at him with all the love in her eyes of a mother over
her ailing infant.

"It's worrying over me, and the heat,"' she said. "And the garage
next door, and the skyscraper going up across the street, might
have something to do with it. And YOU," she mocked tenderly,
"wanted to send me to the sea-shore."

Carter was frowning. As though about to speak, he opened his lips,
and then laughed embarrassedly.

"Out with it," said Dolly, with an encouraging smile. "Did he win?"

Seeing she had read what was in his mind, Carter leaned forward
eagerly. The ruling passion and a touch of superstition held him in
their grip.

"He 'win' each time," he whispered. "I saw it as plain as I see
you. Each time he came up with a rush just at the same place, just
as they entered the stretch, and each time he won!" He slapped his
hand disdainfully upon the dirty bills before him. "If I had a
hundred dollars!"

There was a knock at the door, and Carter opened it to the elevator
boy with the morning mail. The letters, save one, Carter dropped
upon the table. That one, with clumsy fingers, he tore open. He
exclaimed breathlessly: "It's from PLYMPTON'S MAGAZINE! Maybe--I've
sold a story!" He gave a cry almost of alarm. His voice was as