ad cleared away by this time, and he went mechanically down
to the old counting-room on the wharf. Harleston Bowdoin was there
alone, and Jamie found himself facing the young man before he realized
where his legs had carried him.

"What is it, Jamie?" said Harley.

"She's coming on to make me a visit," said Jamie simply.
"Mercedes--Mrs. St. Clair, I mean." Then he wandered out, passing Mr.
Bowdoin on the stairs. He did not tell him the news, and the old
gentleman nearly choked in his desire to speak of it. As he entered
the office, "Has he told you?" cried Harleston.

"Has he told _you_?" echoed the old gentleman. Harley told. Then Mr.
Bowdoin turned and bolted up the street after Jamie.

"Old fellow, why don't you have a vacation,--just a few days? The bank
can spare you, and you need rest." His hand was on the old clerk's
shoulder.

"Master Harley wull ha' told ye? But I'm na one to neglect me
affairs," said Jamie.

"Nonsense, nonsense. When is she coming?"

Jamie told him.

"Why don't you take the one-forty and meet her at Worcester? She may
have to go back to-morrow."

Jamie started. It was clear he had not thought of this. As they
entered the bank, Mr. Bowdoin cried out to Stanchion, the cashier, "I
want to borrow McMurtagh for the day, on business of my own."

"Certainly, sir," said Mr. Stanchion.

Jamie went.

* * * * *

There is no happiness so great as happiness to come, for then it has
not begun to go. If the streets of the celestial city are as bright to
Jamie as those of Boston were that day, he should have hope of heaven.
It was yet two hours before his train went, but he had no thought of
food. He passed a florist's; then turned and went in, blushing, to buy
a bunch of roses. He was not anxious for the time to come, such
pleasure lay in waiting. When at last the train started, the distance
to Worcester never seemed so short. He was to come back over it with
her!

In the car he got some water for his roses, but dared not smell of
them lest their fragrance should be diminished. After reaching
Worcester, he had half an hour to wait; then the New York train came
trundling in. As the cars rolled by he strained his old eyes to each
window; the day was hot, and at an opened one Jamie saw the face of
his Mercedes.

X.

The next morning, old Mr. James Bowdoin got up even earlier than
usual, with an undefined sense of pleasure. As was his wont, he walked