Any congratulations?"
"To be sure," said Donald, extending a wet hand, but frowning into the
darkness. "Have you told my sister?"
"Mrs. Sequin?" Dillingham smiled with superior amusement. "I guess she
didn't have to be told. I imagine she thought of it before we did.
Rather keen on me, you know, from the start."
Donald drew in his breath but said nothing. Had it not been true, how
he would have enjoyed punching Dill's head!
"You get off to the Orient this week, I suppose," went on Dillingham.
"Lucky devil! Decker asked me to go along. If it hadn't been for the
paternal grandparent I'd have gone in a minute, but he put his foot
down. When do you sail?"
"I've given up the trip. I'm going to buy a farm out near the
Wickers', and get down to work."
Dillingham whistled incredulously:
"Yes, I see you doing it! You are counting on pulling off the Derby, I
suppose?"
"No, I'm not going to enter my horse."
"What! Why Lickety-Split could win that race in a walk. All the crowd
say you stand to win. Here, this is the shanty; at least it's where he
used to live."
A bright light streamed from the uncurtained window of a small
cottage, revealing a family group within.
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