inking that two-headaches-for-a-picayune punch?" queried Ferry, eager
for a diversion.

"Suppose she is," answered Pierce, stoutly. "I'm a crank,--strait-laced,
if you like. It's the fault of my bringing up. But I know, and you know,
that that little woman, in her loneliness and in her natural longing for
some congenial spirit to commune with, is simply falling madly in love
with Sam Waring, and there will be tragedy here before we can stop it."

"See here, Pierce," asked Ferry, "do you suppose Mrs. Cram would be so
loyal a friend to Waring if she thought there was anything wrong in his
attentions to Madame Lascelles? Do you suppose Cram himself wouldn't
speak?"

"He has spoken."

"He has? To whom?"

"To me, three days ago; said I had known Waring longest and best,
perhaps was his most intimate friend, and he thought I ought to warn him
of what people were saying."

"What have you done?"

"Nothing yet: simply because I know Sam Waring so well that I know just
what he'd do,--go and pull the nose of the man who gossiped about him
and her. Then we'd have a fight on our hands."

"Well, we can fight, I suppose, can't we?"

"Not without involving a woman's name."

"Oh, good Lord, Pierce, was there ever a row without a woman _au fond_?"

"That's a worm-eaten witticism, Ferry, and you're too decent a fellow,
as a rule, to be cynical. I've got to speak to Waring, and I don't know
how to do it. I want your advice."

"Well, my advice is _Punch's_: Don't. Hello! here's Dryden. Thought you
were on court duty up at head-quarters to-day, old man. Come in and have
a wet?" Mr. Ferry had seen some happy days at Fortress Monroe when the
ships of Her Majesty's navy lay off the Hygeia and the gallants of
England lay to at the bar, and Ferry rejoiced in the vernacular of the
United Service, so far as he could learn it, as practised abroad.

"Thanks. Just had one over at Merton's. Hear you've been having review
and all that sort of thing down here," said the infantryman, as he
lolled back in an easy-chair and planted his boot-heels on the gallery
rail. "Glad I got out of it. Court met and adjourned at ten, so I came
home. How'd Waring get off?"

"Huh!--Cram's wagon," laughed Ferry, rather uncomfortably, however.

"Oh, Lord, yes, I know that. Didn't I see him driving Madame Lascelles
up Rampart Street as I came down in the mule-car?"

And then Pierce and Ferry looked at each other, startled.

That evening, therefore, it wa