“Haven’t I?” she smiled enigmatically.  “I don’t think you’ve tried very hard.”

This was too careless; it did not quite serve, even for Trumble.  “What’s up?” he asked, not without shrewdness.  “Is Richard Lindley out of town?”

“I don’t know.”

“I see.  Perhaps it’s this new chap, Corliss?  Has he left?”

“What nonsense!  What have they got to do with my being nice to you?” She gave him a dangerous smile, and it wrought upon him visibly.

“Don’t you ever be nice to me unless you mean it,” he said feebly.

Cora looked grave and sweet; she seemed mysteriously moved.  “I never do anything I don’t mean,” she said in a low voice which thrilled the little man.  This was machine-work, easy and accurate.

“Cora——­” he began, breathlessly.

“There!” she exclaimed, shifting on the instant to a lively brusqueness.  “That’s enough for you just now.  We’re on our way to church!”

Trumble felt almost that she had accepted him.

“Have you got your penny for the contribution box?” she smiled.  “I suppose you really give a great deal to the church.  I hear you’re richer and richer.”

“I do pretty well,” he returned, coolly.  “You can know just how well, if you like.”

“Not on Sunday,” she laughed; then went on, admiringly, “I hear you’re very dashing in your speculations.”

“Then you’ve heard wrong, because I don’t speculate,” he returned.  “I’m not a gambler—­except on certainties.  I guess I disappointed a friend of yours the other day because I wouldn’t back him on a thousand-to-one shot.”

“Who was that?” she asked, with an expression entirely veiled.

“Corliss.  He came to see me; wanted me to put real money into an oil scheme.  Too thin!”

“Why is it `too thin’?” she asked carelessly.

“Too far away, for one thing—­somewhere in Italy.  Anybody who put up his cash would have to do it on Corliss’s bare word that he’s struck oil.”

“Well?” She turned her face to him, and a faint perturbation was manifest in her tone.  “Isn’t Mr. Corliss’s `bare word’ supposed to be perfectly good?”

“Oh, I suppose so, but I don’t know.  He isn’t known here:  nobody really knows anything about him except that he was born here.  Besides, I wouldn’t make an investment on my own father’s bare word, if he happened to be alive.”

“Perhaps not!” Cora spoke impulsively, a sudden anger getting the better of her, but she controlled it immediately.  “Of course I don’t mean that,” she laughed, sweetly.  “But I happen to think Mr. Corliss’s scheme a very handsome one, and I want my friends to make their fortunes, of course.  Richard Lindley and papa are going into it.”

“I’ll bet they don’t,” said Trumble promptly.  “Lindley told me he’d looked it over and couldn’t see his way to.”

“He did?” Cora stiffened perceptibly and bit her lip.