is worth six of it. More than four hundred thousand
dollars to the good. They took up the matrimonial
matter again. Neither the dentist nor the lawyer
was mentioned; there was no occasion, they were out
of the running. Disqualified. They discussed
the son of the pork-packer and the son of the village
banker. But finally, as in the previous case,
they concluded to wait and think, and go cautiously
and sure.
Luck came their way again. Aleck, ever watchful
saw a great and risky chance, and took a daring flyer.
A time of trembling, of doubt, of awful uneasiness
followed, for non-success meant absolute ruin and
nothing short of it. Then came the result, and
Aleck, faint with joy, could hardly control her voice
when she said:
“The suspense is over, Sally—and
we are worth a cold million!”
Sally wept for gratitude, and said:
“Oh, Electra, jewel of women, darling of my
heart, we are free at last, we roll in wealth, we
need never scrimp again. It’s a case for
Veuve Cliquot!” and he got out a pint of spruce-beer
and made sacrifice, he saying “Damn the expense,”
and she rebuking him gently with reproachful but humid
and happy eyes.
They shelved the pork-packer’s son and the banker’s
son, and sat down to consider the Governor’s
son and the son of the Congressman.
It were a weariness to follow in detail the leaps
and bounds the Foster fictitious finances took from
this time forth. It was marvelous, it was dizzying,
it was dazzling. Everything Aleck touched turned
to fairy gold, and heaped itself glittering toward
the firmament. Millions upon millions poured
in, and still the mighty stream flowed thundering
along, still its vast volume increased. Five
millions —ten millions—twenty—thirty—was
there never to be an end?
Two years swept by in a splendid delirium, the intoxicated
Fosters scarcely noticing the flight of time.
They were now worth three hundred million dollars;
they were in every board of directors of every prodigious
combine in the country; and still as time drifted along,
the millions went on piling up, five at a time, ten
at a time, as fast as they could tally them off, almost.
The three hundred double itself—then doubled
again—and yet again—and yet once
more.
Twenty-four hundred millions!
The business was getting a little confused.
It was necessary to take an account of stock, and
straighten it out. The Fosters knew it, they
felt it, they realized that it was imperative; but
they also knew that to do it properly and perfectly
the task must be carried to a finish without a break
when once it was begun. A ten-hours’ job;
and where could they find ten leisure hours in
a bunch? Sally was selling pins and sugar and
calico all day and every day; Aleck was cooking and
washing dishes and sweeping and making beds all day
and every day, with none to help, for the daughters
were being saved up for high society. The Fosters
knew there was one way to get the ten hours, and only
one. Both were ashamed to name it; each waited
for the other to do it. Finally Sally said:
