e
this evening and to-morrow. And about your holiday. I suppose you will
be going on the excursion with the rest of the girls on Monday?"

"Oh, yes!" replied Jessie lightly but constrainedly.

He drew nearer and looked wistfully into her face.

"I can not go, unfortunately," he said, "but I hope, Jess, that you will
see that Dorothy has as good a time as the rest of the girls." He
stopped a moment, and looked down confusedly, as if at a loss to know
how to proceed with the rest of his sentence, but concluded at length to
break right into it boldly. "If I were there I would treat all you girls
to as much ice-cream as you could eat," he went on with a laugh. "But,
seeing that I am _not_ to be one of the party, I want you to do the
honors for me, Jess, and here's the money to pay for it, with my
compliments to the crowd."

And as he spoke he drew a crisp bill from his vest pocket and thrust it
into Jessie's hand.

"Oh, Jack," cried the girl, "you are too good and too kind!" and she
felt rather guilty as she took it, for she knew that he was giving it
solely that they would make it pleasant for pretty little Dorothy, and
she knew that Dorothy was not to be there.

Only that day she had confessed to her that she had made an engagement
to go to the matinee with the handsome car conductor.

But there would be a tragedy if Jack got an inkling of this, she well
knew. She had deceived him, poor fellow; but was it not for the best,
under the circumstances?

Jack went to his home with a light heart, and much relieved in feelings.
It was well for him that he did not know just how Dorothy was passing
those very moments.

When Harry Langdon had met Dorothy on the street that afternoon he had
quite hoped to slip by her unnoticed. Not that he was displeased to see
her; but the girl was dressed so cheaply, and, to make matters worse,
she carried her little dinner-basket on her arm, and he knew that if any
of his friends were to see him they would smile in derision, for they
could not help knowing by the dinner-basket that his companion was a
working-girl.

His pride was the one fault of his life. He felt that he was quite
handsome enough to woo and win an heiress, if one chanced in his way. In
fact, that was what he was looking for.

It would never do to be seen walking along the streets with this pretty
little working-girl, and it was for this very reason that Langdon had
called a cab to take her home.

"The ride is too