e small enough to wear my coat."

Dic congratulated himself upon his bulk, but he took Billy's advice
regarding the gloves and stock. Billy was a relic of the days of the
grand beaux, when garments, if they did not make the man, at least could
mar the gentleman, and held his faith in the omnipotence of dress, as a
heritage from his youth--that youth which was almost of another world.
Dic was one of the few men whose splendor of person did not require the
adornments of dress. All women looked upon his redolence of life and
strength with pleasure, and soon learned to respect his
straightforward, fearless honesty. Miss Tousy had noted Dic's qualities
on previous occasions, and valued him accordingly. She was also
interested in Rita, who was her protegee; and she was graciousness
itself to Dic that day as she asked him,

"What good fortune brings you?"

"It is bad fortune brings me, I am sorry to say," returned Dic.
"Yesterday was the unluckiest day of my life, and I have come to you for
help."

Miss Tousy's kind heart responded, as Billy Little had predicted.

"Then your ill luck is my good fortune. In what way can I help you? I
give you _carte blanche_; ask what you will."

"I will not hold you to your offer until I tell you what I want. Then
you may refuse if you feel that--"

"I'll not refuse," answered the kindly young lady. "Go on."

"You know that Ri--, Miss Bays, is--has been for a long time--that is,
has promised to be--"

"I know. But what has happened?"

"It's a long story. I'll not tell you all. I--"

"Yes, tell me all--that is, if you wish. I'm eager to hear all, even to
the minutest details. Don't mind if the story is long." And she settled
herself comfortably among the cushions to hear his sentimental
narrative. Dic very willingly told the whole story of yesterday's woes,
and Miss Tousy gave him her sympathy, as only a woman can give. It was
not spoken freely in words, merely in gestures and little ejaculatory
"ah's," "oh's," and "too bad's"; but it was soothing to Dic, and sweet
Miss Tousy gained a lifelong friend.

"You see," said Dic, after he had finished his story, "I cannot
communicate with Rita. She is ill, and I shall be unable to hear from
her."

"I'll keep you informed; indeed I will, gladly. Oh, that hard old woman!
There is no hallucination so dangerous to surrounding happiness as that
of the Pharisee. Mrs. Bays has in some manner convinced herself that her
hardness is goodness, a