“You’re looking as happy as ever, Polly,” observed Constance.

“I’m as happy as a mosquito in a baby’s crib,” avowed Polly.  “I’ve added three thousand to-day to the subscription list for our Ocean View Baby Hotel.  Where’s that list, Sammy?”

Sammy Chirp passed a few things from his right to his left hand and searched a few pockets; passed a few things from his left to his right hand, dropped the lady’s handkerchief and picked it up, smiled feebly upon everybody, and then at last produced the subscription list, which Miss Joy read most interestedly.

“That’s splendid, Polly!” she approved.  “Another day’s work as good as this, and we’ll be able to buy our hotel.”

Paul Gresham, standing stiffly between her and Polly, looked down at her and smiled correctly.

“I guess we’d better go, don’t you think?” he remarked to the other young men.

“You’re safe enough,” retorted Polly.  “You’re safe any place with your check-book.  Besides, we don’t want to double names on this list.  We’ll spring another one when we’re ready to equip and run the place.  Oh, there’s Johnny Gamble!  Hello, Johnny!” And she leaned far over the rail to call to him.

It was strange how quickly Johnny Gamble was able to distinguish a sound coming from that direction, and he looked up immediately.  “Come right up here, Johnny,” she commanded him.  “I have a great surprise in store for you.”

“Go any place you say if it’s not too hot there,” he cheerfully assured her, and started off towards the staircase.

“When I get Johnny Gamble’s name this list is closed,” said Polly confidently.

“I’ll bet with you on that,” offered Bruce Townley.  “Johnny probably hasn’t enough money to buy a tin rattle for your babies’ hotel.”

“No!” she protested, shocked.  “I’m so used to seeing him with money that I don’t think I’d know him if he had it shaved off.”

“He was too honest, as usual,” supplemented Val Russel, lounging carelessly against the rail.  “Here comes Ashley Loring.  He can tell you all about it.  Johnny Gamble hasn’t a cent left, has he, Loring?”

“It would be most unprofessional to discuss Mr. Gamble’s private affairs,” said Loring reprovingly as he came into the box.  “Aside from a mere detail like that, I don’t mind saying that Johnny Gamble has just bet the last hundred dollars he has in the world on an absolutely criminal long shot.”

“I hope he wins!” stated Polly heartily.  “I think he’s the only real gentleman I ever knew.”

“Well, I like that!” protested Val Russel, laughing.

“I don’t mean a slam at you boys,” she hastily corrected.  “You’re a nice clean bunch; but I know so much about Johnny.  He helps people, then hides so he can’t be thanked.  He’s the one man out of a thousand that both women and men can absolutely trust.”

“That’s rather a broad statement,” objected Paul Gresham, who had eyed Polly with fastidious distaste every time she spoke.  He was a rather silent young man with a thin high-arched nose and eyebrows that met, and was so flawlessly dressed that he sat stiffly.