driver a bill. "You've a very bad memory, cabby, haven't
you?" I asked.

"Extremely bad, sir," said he, touching his hat.

"But, Maisie, I've got the swell's college shirt on," I heard
"Boiler-plate" insist. Then the wheels moved.

The Draytons were both upon their feet when I stole back into the
hall. I needed my hat and coat, or I shouldn't have set foot within
the house again that night. Jack, a bit staggery and holding to the
back of a chair, mopped the cut on his temple with a handkerchief, his
wife's handkerchief, in his free hand. Natica, a smear of red on the
front of her frock, stood beside him, with a strangely happy
expression in her face and pose. A great many things had been pushed
over the precipice which leads to forgetfulness, in the time I had
been out on the sidewalk busy with the cabby.

"Good-night, Percy," Jack called out.

"Good-night," said I, going to him to take his hand, for he was too
wobbly to have met me halfway.

"It's been a nightmare," said he. "We'll wake up to-morrow morning and
know that we've only been asleep."

"Yes," I agreed, but looking at the puffiness in his face, I thought
this was coming it a bit strong.

"Good-night, Percy," said Natica. And gently as she spoke the words,
it came to me with a sudden rush of conviction that I had ceased
fagging for the Drayton establishment for good--now.

"It was coming to me," said Jack. I was fiddling on the threshold
uncertainly.

"Hush, you foolish boy," whispered Natica, touching the cut on his
forehead, just once, with a very tender finger.

"Yes, it was coming to you," said I. I was glad that they perceived
the conviction in my speech.

And that is how I had my last supper with Natica.

BY THE FOUNTAIN

BY MARGARET HOUSTON

There was nothing in the aspect of the white brick mansion to indicate
that a tragedy was going on inside. A woman quietly dressed, her face
showing delicately above her dark furs, came lightly down the steps.
She paused a half second at the gateway and looked back, but there was
no hesitation in the glance.

"Jules," she said to the coachman, "you may drive to the park."

She did not look back as they drove away.

There should be no gossiping among the servants. Everything should be
done decently. From the park she could take the suburban and go
quietly into town. From there--the world was wide. There was a note on
his dresser, he would read it to-night and understand--no, not
unde