s somebody equal to the occasion somewhere, but with the
population of the world at the present figures there's a billion chances
to one she'll never meet him. What do you think of the financial
situation, Walter? Pretty bad, eh?"

Thus did the astute Mr. Upton play the cards dealt out to him by his
fairer half in this little game of hearts of her devising, and it is a
certain fact that he played them well, for the interjection of a more or
less political phase into their discussion rather whetted than otherwise
the desire of Dr. Bliss to talk about Miss Meeker.

"Oh, hang the financial situation! Where does she live, Henry?" was
Bliss's answer, from which Upton deduced that all was going well.

That his deductions were correct was speedily shown, for it was not many
days before Mrs. Upton, with a radiant face, handed Upton a note from
Walter asking her if she would not act as chaperon for a little sail on
the Sound upon his sloop. He thought a small party of four, consisting
of herself and Henry, Miss Meeker and himself, could have a jolly
afternoon and evening of it, dining on board in true picnic fashion, and
returning to earth in the moonlight.

"How do you like that, my lord?" she inquired, her eyes beaming with
delight.

"Dreadful!" said Henry. "Got to the moonlight stage already--poor Bliss!"

"Poor Bliss indeed," retorted Mrs. Upton. "Blissful Bliss, you ought to
call him. Shall we go?"

"Shall we go?" echoed Upton. "If I fell off the middle of Brooklyn
Bridge, would I land in the water?"

"I don't know," laughed Mrs. Upton. "You might drop into the smoke-stack
of a ferry-boat."

"Of course we'll go," said Upton. "I'd go yachting with my worst enemy."

"Very well. I'll accept," said Mrs. Upton, and she did. The sail was a
great success, and everything went exactly as the skilful match-maker
had wished. Bliss looked well in his yachting suit. The appointments of
the yacht were perfect. The afternoon was fine, the supper entrancing,
and the moonlight irresistible. Miss Meeker was duly impressed, and as
for the doctor, as Upton put it, he was "going down for the third time."

"If you aren't serious in this match, my dear, throw him a rope," he
pleaded, in his friend's behalf.

"He wouldn't avail himself of it if I did," said Mrs. Upton. "He wants
to drown--and I fancy Molly wants him to, too, because I can't get her
to mention his name any more."

"Is that a sign?" asked Upton.

"Indeed yes; if she