he recollected himself and for a
few minutes looked as decorously pompous as the head of the firm should.
But somehow or other that run seemed to have stirred his blood. The fun
of kicking his hat over the railings returned so forcibly that there
spread over his ruddy face a smile which greatly surprised the wife of
one of his most respected clients passing at that moment in her
carriage. She too returned home to talk of Mr. Walkingshaw's curious
demeanor in the public streets of his native city.

The kicking fancy, by a natural chain of thought, reminded him that the
England and Scotland International was being played next Saturday. He
must be there, of course; and wouldn't he shout himself hoarse for
Scotland! He had a moment's dismay when he remembered that old Berstoun
had made an appointment to come in on Saturday and see him about his
confounded money affairs. Then he cheered up again. Let the old chap be
hanged! He would wire and put him off. In fact, he must be put off. For
had not Madge Dunbar promised to come to the match with him? By this
time he had reached the door of his house, and it occurred to him
forcibly that afternoon tea was always a much pleasanter function if
Madge were present. He hoped she wouldn't be out calling.

The dignified twilight of his hall sobered him considerably. He had been
following a strangely frivolous line of thought, he told himself.
Certainly he must never allow his hat to escape again. That run had
quite upset his equanimity: he found himself going upstairs two steps at
a time, and had to pause and shorten his stride.

In the drawing-room he found his sister and the widow.

"Hullo!" said the W.S. before he could recollect himself.

"Hullo!" smiled the widow archly.

He had felt ashamed of the exclamation the moment it escaped him, but
finding it received so prettily, he secretly resolved to say it again
some day--after a week or two had elapsed, perhaps; confining himself to
more dignified remarks in the interval.

"You look as though you had heard good news," said Mrs. Dunbar.

"I've been chasing my hat," he chuckled.

He had meant to make no allusion to the undignified episode, and here he
was blurting it out first thing! He began to feel puzzled by this odd
persistence of high spirits.

"Not in the street, surely?" said Miss Walkingshaw, with her longest
face.

"Oh, I hope it was in the street!" cried the widow. "I'd have loved to
see you!"

Her dear friend