ght the
Old Fellow or Sylvia either could be so spooney. Ruggles and I would
have given anything on earth to be out of that. We knew we'd no
business to be there and we felt as foolish as flatfish. It was a
tremendous relief when the Old Fellow and Sylvia got up at last and
trailed away, both of them looking idiotically happy.

"Well, did you ever?" said Ruggles.

It was a girl's exclamation, but nothing else would have expressed his
feelings.

"No, I never," I said. "To think that Sylvia Grant should be sweet on
the Old Fellow when she could have Micky! It passes comprehension. Did
she--did she really promise to marry him, Ruggles?"

"She did," said Ruggles gloomily. "But, I say, isn't that Old Fellow
game? Tumbled to the trick in a jiff; never let on but what he wrote
the letter, never will let on, I bet. Where does the joke come in,
Polly, my boy?"

"It's on us," I said, "but nobody will know of it if we hold our
tongues. We'll have to hold them anyhow, for Sylvia's sake, since
she's been goose enough to go and fall in love with the Old Fellow.
She'd go wild if she ever found out the letter was a hoax. We have
made that match, Ruggles. He'd never have got up enough spunk to tell
her he wanted her, and she'd probably have married Micky out of
spite."

"Well, you know the Old Fellow isn't a bad sort after all," said
Ruggles, "and he's really awfully gone on her. So it's all right.
Let's go and find the girls."

The Parting of The Ways

Mrs. Longworth crossed the hotel piazza, descended the steps, and
walked out of sight down the shore road with all the grace of motion
that lent distinction to her slightest movement. Her eyes were very
bright, and an unusual flush stained the pallor of her cheek. Two men
who were lounging in one corner of the hotel piazza looked admiringly
after her.

"She is a beautiful woman," said one.

"Wasn't there some talk about Mrs. Longworth and Cunningham last
winter?" asked the other.

"Yes. They were much together. Still, there may have been nothing
wrong. She was old Judge Carmody's daughter, you know. Longworth got
Carmody under his thumb in money matters and put the screws on. They
say he made Carmody's daughter the price of the old man's redemption.
The girl herself was a mere child, I shall never forget her face on
her wedding day. But she's been plucky since then, I must say. If she
has suffered, she hasn't shown it. I don't suppose Longworth ever
ill-treats he