Mcallen Daily Monitor

CHAPTER XXXIII

Two days later, Fred opened his eyes with a start to find Roger Jeans standing by his bed, shaking him goodnaturedly.

"Get up, lazybones. I want to talk to you."

Fred sat up and ran his hands through his tumbled hair.

"What's the big idea, spoiling my well-earned sleep? What are you so excited about?"

"I should think you'd be excited enough," said Jeans. "I would if my engagement were being announced."

Fred stared at him, then seized the newspaper he was holding out. Sure enough, there it was, prominently displayed in the social column. Mrs. Haverhill was giving a large dinner that evening and it was rumored she was about to announce the engagement of her daughter, Sandra, to Mr. Frederick Howe of New York City.

"Well, why don't you say something?" Jeans asked gaily. "You don't look very radiant."

Fred grunted. "Do you expect me to look radiant at this hour in the morning? Do you know what time I got in from that dance?"

"I don't know, but I can imagine. Anyway, I think your engagement calls for heartfelt congratulations. If I promise to buy a new suit, will you invite me to the wedding?"

Fred took his friend's proffered hand. "If there is a wedding, Roger, never fear—you'll be there."

So saying, he leaped out of bed and, a moment later, was under the shower trying to make the deluge of cold water revive his tired brain after only three hours of sleep.

When he came out into his room again, dressed, he found several letters waiting for him. One was from Mrs. Haverhill, a very sweet little note telling him that she would announce Sandra's engagement to him that evening.

Most of the other letters were invitations, which he opened and then tossed aside. There was no use, wondering whether or not to accept them, because, after tonight, he would not be his own master in social matters. All such things would be arranged for him by Sandra.

He paused as he allowed his mind to dwell on that thought. This morning he was an independent person. Tomorrow morning he would be "Sandra Haverhill's fiance." He made a little face at the thought. He should be elated he supposed, but instead he just didn't like the sound of the words.

He wished he could share Roger Jeans' enthusiasm.

The last letter he opened was from Mr. Poole and, as Fred unfolded the single sheet of paper, an enclosure fell out and fluttered to the floor. He bent over and picked it up, staring at it dully. It was a check for ten thousand dollars.

The letter was very brief:

"Congratulations, my boy,

I have started work on plans for the Haverhill house in Newport. I'm sure you will understand how much I appreciate your invaluable assistance. Here's a little present for you."