CITY IDYLL_

BY CHARLES E. PEARCE.

Jack Cameron's office was a handsome apartment. It was approached by a
broad staircase, the balusters of which were impressive from their
solidity and design. The office door had a species of ornamental
pediment over it, and the room itself had panelled walls of a pale
green, a chimneypiece of portentous size, and a highly ornamental
ceiling.

Up the staircase tripped a little lady--a pleasant vision of a silk
blouse, butter-coloured lace, golden hair, fawn gloves, and tan
bottines, leaving behind her an atmosphere redolent of the latest
fashionable perfume mingled with the more delicate scent of the Marechal
Niel roses in her corsage.

She knocked at the door, and, as there was no response from within,
turned the handle.

"May I come in, please?" she said laughingly.

A young man was standing in a corner of the room opposite the
telegraphic machine, from which the "tape" was issuing with a monotonous
click. On this "tape"--a narrow strip of paper seemingly endless, which
fell on the floor in serpentine coils--were inscribed at regular
intervals some cabalistic characters unintelligible to the general
public, but full of meaning to the initiated.

He turned at the sound of the voice. "What! Dolly?" he exclaimed.

"Yes, Jack; didn't you expect me?"

"Of course--of course," answered Jack Cameron, rather confusedly.

The girl crossed the room, and, taking both the hands of the young man,
looked into his eyes.

"You are worried," said she softly.

"Oh, only a little. One is bound to have worries in business, especially
when the market's feverish. But I'm awfully glad you've come. I shall
forget all my bothers now you are here."

His tone brightened, and the shadow that was beginning to steal over the
girl's face disappeared.

They were engaged. The wedding-day was fixed for the following week;
naturally there was much to do in the way of house furnishing, and the
bride elect was happy. Shopping before marriage has a distinct charm of
its own. The feminine mind attaches to each purchase an ideal pleasure.
Then there is the special joy of being entrusted by her future husband
with money, and the pride of showing him how well she can bargain.

Jack Cameron was a stockbroker, and had done fairly well in South
Africans. But like a good many others he had kept his "Narbatos" too
long, and he saw his way to lose some money; not enough to seriously
damage his stability, but