did not relish the suggestion that Rita would be willing to take so
active a part in the transaction, and said:--

"I fear you do not know Rita. She is not bold enough to do what you
hope. If she will come with us, it will be all I can expect. We must do
the planning."

"You say she offered to come with you?" asked Billy.

"Y-e-s," responded Dic, hesitatingly; "but she is the most timid of
girls, and we shall need to be very persuasive if--"

Billy laughed and interrupted him: "All theory, Dic; all theory and
wrong. 'Deed, if I knew you were such a fool! The gentlest and most
guileless of women are the bravest and boldest under the stress of a
great motive. The woman who is capable of great love is sure also to
have the capacity for great courage. I know Rita better than you
suppose, and, mark my words, she will furnish both the plan and the
girl; and if you grow supercilious, egad! I'll take her myself."

"I'll not grow supercilious. She is perfect, and anything she'll do will
be all right. I can't believe she is really to be mine. It seems more
like a castle in the air than a real fact."

"It is not a fact yet," returned Billy, croakingly; "and if this trip
doesn't make it a fact, I venture to prophesy you will have an
untenanted aerial structure on your hands before long."

"You don't believe anything of the sort, Billy Little," said Dic. "I
can't lose her. It couldn't happen. It couldn't."

"We'll see. There's the stage horn. Let us hurry out and get an inside
seat. The sky looks overcast, and I shouldn't like to have this coat
rained upon. There's a fine piece of cloth, Dic. Feel it." Dic complied.
"Soft as silk, isn't it?" continued Billy. "They don't make such cloth
in these days of flimsy woolsey. Got it thirty years ago from the famous
Schwitzer on Cork Street. Tailor shop there for ages. Small shop--dingy
little hole, but that man Schwitzer was an artist. Made garments for all
the beaux. Brummel used to draw his own patterns in that shop--in that
very shop, Dic. Think of wearing a coat made by Brummel's tailor.
Remarkable man that, Brummel--George Bryan Brummel. Good head, full of
good brains. Son of a confectioner; friend of a prince. Upon one
occasion the Prince of Wales wept because Brummel made sport of his
coat. Yes, egad! blubbered. I used to know him well. Knew the 'First
Gentleman' of Europe, too, the Prince of Wales. Won a thousand and
eleven pounds from Brummel one night at whist. He paid the