Page was a little late at the office the next morning and Frye was there
ahead of him.

"I was out with young Nason last evening," he explained, as the old
lawyer bade him a rather crusty good morning, "and I overslept."

"Oh, that is all right," responded Frye, in an instantaneously sweetened
tone, "I am glad you were, and, as I told you, you are wise to cultivate
him. I suppose," he continued with a leer, "that you were buying wine
for some of the gay girls?"

Page looked confused. "Well, we went to the theatre, and after that had
a late supper," he explained, "and it was after one before I returned to
my room."

"I don't care how late you are out, or what you did," said Frye, still
eyeing Page, "so long as you were with young Nason and kept out of the
lockup. His father pays me a salary to look after his law business, and
his son is the pride of his heart. I trust you understand my meaning. If
you don't feel like work this morning," he continued suavely, "mount
your wheel and take a run out to Winchester and see if that mortgage on
the Seaver estate has been satisfied. The exercise and air will do you
good."

Page was nonplussed.

"He has some deep-laid plot in his mind," he thought as he looked at
Frye, who, having delivered this amazing pat, turned at once to his
mail. It was all the more amazing because at the start he had been
assured that punctuality and good conduct on his part were obligatory.
Now he was to all intents and purposes not only told he might lark it
with young Nason all he chose, but even urged to do so. He was glad to
escape the office, however, for his head felt full of bees, and thanking
his employer for the permission, he quickly left the city behind him.
The crisp October air and exercise soon cured his headache, and in a
measure drove away some of the self-reproaches at his own foolish
conduct of the night before.

The errand at Winchester was attended to, and then, after taking a glass
of bromo-seltzer, he headed back for the city, taking another course. By
the time he reached town he was faint from hunger, for he had eaten no
breakfast. A good dinner restored him to his natural self-possession,
and then he went to the office.

For a week he reproached himself every time he thought how much his
escapade had cost, and felt too ashamed to answer Alice's letter. When
he did he assured that innocent sister that he was saving all he could
and should send more money as soon as possib