l, and thinking of her future husband, the
rich Mayor, who must be either the bachelor police captain of the
precinct, or George Fletcher, the wealthy and unmarried factory-owner
near by, or, perhaps, Senator Eisenstone, the district leader, who, she
was forced to reflect, was an unlikely hero for a Catholic girl, since
he was a Hebrew. But just as she reached the street door and decided
that Jerry would do well enough as a mere temporary James the butler,
and while Jerry was waiting for her on the corner, she stepped from the
stoop directly in front of George Fletcher.

"Good evening," said the wealthy, young employer.

"Good evening, Mr. Fletcher."

"It's very embarrassing," said Mr. Fletcher: "I know your given
name--Cordelia, isn't it?--but your last na--Oh, thank you--Miss
Mahoney, of course. You know we met at that very queer wedding in the
home of my little apprentice, Joe--the line-man's wedding, you know."

"Te he!" Cordelia giggled. "Wasn't that a terrible strange wedding? I
think it was just terrible."

"Were you going somewhere?"

"Oh, not at all, Mr. Fletcher," with another nervous giggle or two. "I
have no plans on me mind, only to get out of doors. It's terrible hot,
ain't it?"

"May I take a walk with you, Miss Mahoney?"

It seemed to her that if he had called her Clarice the whole novel would
have come true then and there.

"I can't be out very late, Mr. Fletcher," said she, with a giggle of
delight.

"Are you sure I am not disarranging your plans? Had you no engagements?"

"Oh no," said she; "I was only going out with me lonely."

"Let us take just a short walk, then," said Fletcher; "only you must be
the man and take me in charge, Miss Mahoney, for I never walked with a
young lady in my life."

"Oh, certainly not; you never did--I _don't_ think."

"Upon my honor, Miss Mahoney, I know only one woman in this city--Miss
Whitfield, the doctor's daughter, who lives in the same house with you;
and only one other in the world--my aunt, who brought me up, in
Vermont."

Well indeed did Cordelia know this. All the neighborhood knew it, and
most of the other girls were conscious of a little flutter in their
breasts when his eyes fell upon them in the streets, for it was the
gossip of all who knew his workmen that the prosperous ladder-builder
lived in his factory, where his had spent the life of a monk, without
any society except of his canaries, his books, and his workmen.

"Well, I declare