d the possibility of being paid in
full out of the next month's allowance without horribly crippling the
debtor. It was exceedingly annoying to have to forfeit that ten dollars
to Uncle Phil every month for that darned automobile business which it
seemed as if he never would get free of one way or another. He certainly
ought not to buy any more flowers this month.

Still, there was the hop to-night. Elsie was going with him. He had run
a race with three other applicants for the privilege of escorting her and
being victor it behooved him to prove he appreciated his gains. He didn't
want Elsie to think he was a tight-wad, or worse still suspect him of
being broke. He fell, let Berry open the show case, debated seriously the
respective merits of roses and violets, having reluctantly relinquished
orchids as a little too ruinous even for a ruined young man.

"If they are for Miss Hathaway," murmured a pretty, sympathetic clerk in
his ear, "Mr. Delany sent roses this morning and she likes violets best.
I've heard her say so."

That settled it. Ted Holiday wasn't going to be beaten by a poor fish
like Ned Delany. The violets were bought and duly charged along with
those other too numerous items on Ted Holiday's account. Going home Ted
wrote a cheerful, friendly letter to Madeline Taylor reporting his
success in getting her a job and enclosing a check for twenty live
dollars, "just to tide you over," he had put in lightly, forbearing to
mention that the gift made his bank balance even lighter, so light in
fact that it approached complete invisibility. He added that he was sorry
things were in a mess for her but they would clear up soon, bound to, you
know. And nix on the wish-I-were-dead-stuff! It was really a jolly old
world as she would say herself when her luck turned. He remained hers
sincerely and so forth.

This business off his mind, young Mr. Holiday felt highly relieved and
pleased with himself and the world which was such a jolly old affair as
he had just assured Madeline. Later he went to the hop and had a corking
time, stayed till the last violin swooned off into silence, then
sauntered with deliberate leisureliness toward Prof. Hathaway's house
with Elsie on his arm. On the Prof's porch he had lingered as long as was
prudent, perhaps a little longer, spooning discreetly the while as one
may, even with an Ancient History Prof's daughter. There was nothing
suggestive of Ancient History about Elsie. She was slim an