replace
my hat. But where my head had hit the telegraph pole a large bump had
risen which made my hat too small. So I hung it on the bump. It gave me
a rakish air. One of the chorus returned my bag and another the "Log."
Not wishing to remind Miss Briggs of my past impertinences; I guiltily
concealed it.

Then the policeman asked my name and I gave the one I had just invented,
and inquired my way to the Parker House. Half the chorus volunteered to
act as my escort, and as I departed, I stole a last look at Miss Briggs.
She and the policeman were taking down the pedigree of the chauffeur
of the car that had hit me. He was trying to persuade them he was
not intoxicated, and with each speech was furnishing evidence to the
contrary.

After I had given a cold bath to the bump on my head and to the rest of
my body which for the moment seemed the lesser of the two, I got into
dry things and seated myself on the veranda of the hotel. With a cigar
to soothe my jangling nerves, I considered the position of Miss Briggs
and myself. I was happy in believing it had improved. On the morrow
there was no law to prevent me from visiting Hatchardson's Bookstore,
and in view of what had happened since last I left it, I had reason to
hope Miss Briggs would receive me more, kindly. Of the correctness of
this diagnosis I was at once assured. In front of the hotel a district
messenger-boy fell off his bicycle and with unerring instinct picked
me out as Mr. Fitzgibbon of New York. The note he carried was from Miss
Briggs. It stated that in the presence of so many people it had been
impossible for her to thank me as she wished for the service I had
rendered her, and that Mrs. Cutler, with whom she boarded, and herself,
would be glad if after supper I would call upon them. I gave the
messenger-boy enough gold to enable him to buy a new bicycle and in my
room executed a dance symbolizing joy. I then kicked my suit-case under
the bed. I would not soon need it. Now that Miss Briggs had forgiven me,
I was determined to live and die in New Bedford.

The home of Mrs. Cutler, where Miss Briggs lodged and boarded, was in
a side street of respectable and distinguished antiquity. The street
itself was arched with the branches of giant elms, and each house was an
island surrounded by grass, and over the porches climbed roses. It was
too warm to remain indoors, so we sat on the steps of the porch, and
through the leaves of the elms the electric light glo