I looked toward Tish, but she said nothing.

"Excitement is where I live," said Mr. Ellis. "If I don't find any

waiting I make it."

"If you are looking for excitement, we'll have to find you some," Jasper

said pointedly.

Mr. Ellis only laughed. "Don't put yourself out, dear boy," he said.

"I have enough for present necessities. If you think an automobile race

is an easy thing to manage, try it. Every man who drives a racing-car

has a _coloratura_ soprano beaten to death for temperament. Then every

racing-car has quirky spells; there's the local committee to propitiate;

the track to look after; and if that isn't enough, there's the promotion

itself, the advertising. That's my stunt--the advertising."

"It's a wonderful business, isn't it?" asked Bettina. "To take a mile

or so of dirt track and turn it into a sort of stage, with drama every

minute and sometimes tragedy!"

"Wait a moment," said Mr. Ellis; "I want to put that down. I'll use it

somewhere in the advertising." He wrote by the light of a match, while

we all sat rather stunned by both his personality and his alertness.

"Everything's grist that comes to my mill. I suppose you all remember

when I completed the speedway at Indianapolis and had the Governor of

Indiana lay a gold brick at the entrance? Great stunt that! But the best

part of that story never reached the public."

Bettina was leaning forward, all ears and thrills. "What was that?" she

asked.

"I had the gold brick stolen that night--did it myself and carried the

brick away in my pocket--only gold-plated, you know. Cost eight or nine

dollars, all told, and brought a million dollars in advertising. But the

papers were sore about some passes and wouldn't use the story. Too bad

we can't use the brick here. Still have it kicking about somewhere."

It was then, I think, that Jasper yawned loudly, apologized, said

good-night and lounged away across the lawn. Bettina hardly knew he was

going. She was bending forward, her chin in her palms, listening to Mr.

Ellis tell about a driver in a motor race breaking his wrist cranking a

car, and how he--Ellis--had jumped into the car and driven it to

victory. Even Aggie was enthralled. It seemed as if, in the last hour,

the great world of stress and keen wits and endeavor and mad speed had

sat down on our door-step.

As Tish said when we were going up to bed, why shouldn't Mr. Ellis brag?

He had something to brag about.

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