ggest that for you such a oblivious change would be--"

"Brimberly," said Young R., turning to stare in lazy wonder, "where in
the world are you getting to now?"

Mr. Brimberly coughed and touched a whisker with dubious finger.

"Wasn't you allooding to--hem!--to matrimony, sir?"

"Matrimony! Lord, no! Hardly so desperate a course as that, Brimberly. I
was considering the advisability of--er--this!" And opening a drawer in
the escritoire, Young R. held up a revolver, whereat Mr. Brimberly's
whiskers showed immediate signs of extreme agitation, and he started to
his feet.

"Mr. Ravenslee, sir--for the love o' Gawd!" he exclaimed, "if it's a
choice between the two--try matrimony first, it's so much--so much
wholesomer, sir!"

"Is it, Brimberly? Let me see, there are about five hundred highly
dignified matrons in this--er--great city, wholly eager and anxious
to wed their daughters to my dollars (and incidentally myself) even
if I were the vilest knave or most pitiful piece of doddering
antiquity--faugh! Let's hear no more of matrimony."

"Certingly not, sir!" bowed Mr. Brimberly.

"And I'm neither mad, Brimberly, nor drunk, only--speaking
colloquially--I'm 'on to' myself at last. If my father had only left me
fewer millions, I might have been quite a hard-working, useful member of
society, for there's good in me, Brimberly. I am occasionally aware of
quite noble impulses, but they need some object to bring 'em out. An
object--hum!" Here Mr. Ravenslee put away the revolver. "An object to
work for, live for, be worthy of!" Here he fell to frowning into the
fire again and stared thus so long that at last Mr. Brimberly felt
impelled to say:

"A hobject, of course, sir! A hobject--certingly, sir!" But here he
started and turned to stare toward the windows as from the darkness
beyond two voices were uplifted in song; two voices these which sang the
same tune and words but in two different keys, uncertain voices, now
shooting up into heights, now dropping into unplumbable deeps, two shaky
voices whose inconsequent quaverings suggested four legs in much the
same condition.

"Brimberly," sighed his master, "what doleful wretches have we here?"

"Why, sir, I--I rather fancy it's William and James--the footmen, sir,"
answered Mr. Brimberly between bristling whiskers. "Hexcuse me,
sir--I'll go and speak to 'em, sir--"

"Oh, pray don't trouble yourself, Mr. Brimberly; sit down and hearken!
These sad sounds are inspired