s he's
right--with my mouth already so full."

"I should say so," laughed Arkwright.

"Well, be that as it may. I'm going to feed myself, and I'm going to
earn my feed, too. I haven't climbed a mountain or paddled a canoe, for
a year. I've been in Chicago cultivating the acquaintance of John Doe
and Richard Roe."

"You mean--law?"

"Sure. I studied it here for a while, before that bout of ours a couple
of years ago. Billy drove me away, then."

"Billy!--er--Mrs. Henshaw?"

"Yes. I thought I told you. She turned down my tenth-dozen proposal so
emphatically that I lost all interest in Boston and took to the tall
timber again. But I've come back. A friend of my father's wrote me to
come on and consider a good opening there was in his law office. I came
on a month ago, and considered. Then I went back to pack up. Now I've
come for good, and here I am. You have my history to date. Now tell me
of yourself. You're looking as fit as a penny from the mint, even though
you have discarded that 'lovely' brown beard. Was that a concession
to--er--_Mary Jane_?"

Arkwright lifted a quick hand of protest.

"'Michael Jeremiah,' please. There is no 'Mary Jane,' now," he said a
bit stiffly.

The other stared a little. Then he gave a low chuckle.

"'Michael Jeremiah,'" he repeated musingly, eyeing the glowing tip of
his cigar. "And to think how that mysterious 'M. J.' used to tantalize
me! Do you mean," he added, turning slowly, "that no one calls you 'Mary
Jane' now?"

"Not if they know what is best for them."

"Oh!" Calderwell noted the smouldering fire in the other's eyes a little
curiously. "Very well. I'll take the hint--Michael Jeremiah."

"Thanks." Arkwright relaxed a little. "To tell the truth, I've had quite
enough now--of Mary Jane."

"Very good. So be it," nodded the other, still regarding his friend
thoughtfully. "But tell me--what of yourself?"

Arkwright shrugged his shoulders.

"There's nothing to tell. You've seen. I'm here."

"Humph! Very pretty," scoffed Calderwell. "Then if _you_ won't tell, I
_will_. I saw Billy a month ago, you see. It seems you've hit the trail
for Grand Opera, as you threatened to that night in Paris; but you
_haven't_ brought up in vaudeville, as you prophesied you would
do--though, for that matter, judging from the plums some of the stars
are picking on the vaudeville stage, nowadays, that isn't to be sneezed
at. But Billy says you've made two or three appearances already on