While they gazed, young Brady arrived, panting, and put into Tracy's hand,--sure enough--an envelope.

Tracy fastened a bland victorious eye upon the gazers, and kept it there till one by one they dropped their eyes, vanquished and embarrassed.

Then he tore open the telegram and glanced at its message.

The yellow paper fell from his fingers and fluttered to the floor, and his face turned white.

There was nothing there but one word-- "Thanks." The humorist of the house, the tall, raw-boned Billy Nash, caulker from the navy yard, was standing in the rear of the crowd.