f him since. So there you are, dearie! Was I right
or wrong?"

The cigar-stand girl gave unqualified approval. What men like Gus Biddle
needed for the salvation of their souls was an occasional good jolt
right where it would do most good.

"I'm glad you think I acted right, dearie," said the Girl Friend. "I
guess I've been too weak with Gus, and he's took advantage of it. I
s'pose I'll have to forgive him one of these old days, but, believe me,
it won't be for a week."

The cigar-stand girl was in favour of a fortnight.

"No," said the Girl Friend, regretfully. "I don't believe I could hold
out that long. But, if I speak to him inside a week, well--! Well, I
gotta be going. Goodbye, honey."

The cigar-stand girl turned to attend to an impatient customer, and the
Girl Friend, walking with the firm and decisive steps which indicate
character, made for the swing-door leading to the street. And as she
went, the paralysis which had pipped Archie released its hold. Still
ignoring the forty-five cents which the boy continued to proffer, he
leaped in her wake like a panther and came upon her just as she was
stepping into a car. The car was full, but not too full for Archie. He
dropped his five cents into the box and reached for a vacant strap.
He looked down upon the flowered hat. There she was. And there he was.
Archie rested his left ear against the forearm of a long, strongly-built
young man in a grey suit who had followed him into the car and was
sharing his strap, and pondered.

CHAPTER XV. SUMMER STORMS

Of course, in a way, the thing was simple. The wheeze was, in a sense,
straightforward and uncomplicated. What he wanted to do was to point out
to the injured girl all that hung on her. He wished to touch her
heart, to plead with her, to desire her to restate her war-aims, and to
persuade her--before three o'clock when that stricken gentleman would be
stepping into the pitcher's box to loose off the first ball against
the Pittsburg Pirates--to let bygones be bygones and forgive Augustus
Biddle. But the blighted problem was, how the deuce to find the
opportunity to start. He couldn't yell at the girl in a crowded
street-car; and, if he let go of his strap and bent over her, somebody
would step on his neck.

The Girl Friend, who for the first five minutes had remained entirely
concealed beneath her hat, now sought diversion by looking up and
examining the faces of the upper strata of passengers. Her eye ca