When Miss Sherwood's invitation reached Maggie, Barney and Old Jimmie were with her.

The pair had growled a lot, though not directly at Maggie, at the seeming lack of progress Maggie had made during the past week.

Barney was a firm enough believer in his rogue's creed of first getting your fish securely hooked; but, on the other hand, there was the danger, if the hooked fish be allowed to remain too long in the water, that it would disastrously shake itself free of the barb and swim away.
That was what Barney was afraid had been happening with Dick Sherwood.
Therefore he was thinking of returning to his abandoned scheme of selling stock to Dick.

He might get Dick's money in that way, though of course not so much money, and of course not so safely.
And another item which for some time had not been pleasing Barney was that Larry Brainard had not yet been finally taken care of, either by the police or by that unofficial force to which he had given orders.
So he had good reason for permitting himself the relaxation of scowling when he was not on public exhibition.
But when Maggie, after reading the invitation, tossed it, together with a note from Dick, across to Barney without comment, the color of his entire world changed for that favorite son of Broadway.

The surly gloom of the end of a profitless enterprise became magically an aurora borealis of superior hopes:--no, something infinitely more substantial than any heaven-painting flare of iridescent colors.
"Maggie, it's the real thing! At last!" he cried.
"What is it ?" asked Old Jimmie.
Barney gave him the letter.