Page, more metropolitan, her keenness of appreciation a little lost
by two years of city life and fashionable schooling, tried to
reassure her.

"You won't lose much," she said. "The air of the overture is
repeated in the first act--I've heard it once before."

"If we even see the first act," mourned Laura. She scanned the faces
of the late comers anxiously. Nobody seemed to mind being late. Even
some of the other people who were waiting, chatted calmly among
themselves. Directly behind them two men, their faces close
together, elaborated an interminable conversation, of which from
time to time they could overhear a phrase or two.

"--and I guess he'll do well if he settles for thirty cents on the
dollar. I tell you, dear boy, it was a _smash!"_

"Never should have tried to swing a corner. The short interest was
too small and the visible supply was too great."

Page nudged her sister and whispered: "That's the Helmick failure
they're talking about, those men. Landry Court told me all about it.
Mr. Helmick had a corner in corn, and he failed to-day, or will fail
soon, or something."

But Laura, preoccupied with looking for the Cresslers, hardly
listened. Aunt Wess', whose count was confused by all these figures
murmured just behind her, began over again, her lips silently
forming the words, "sixty-one, sixty-two, and two is sixty-four."
Behind them the voice continued: