, Mr. Skippy Bedelle, Chesterfieldian to the last, departed
saying:

"He laughs best who laughs last."

* * * * *

He arrived at the little stationery shop without having seen where he
had been going, his eyes blinded with rage, his mind filled with bitter
imprecations. Of his night's infatuation not a vestige remained except
the weakness of disillusionment and the suffering of a proud nature.

"Well, Professor, how was your girl?"

He looked up to see the dark-complexioned lady still methodically
chewing away.

"She's like all the rest," he thought darkly, "fooling some man, I bet."

Then his eyes fell on a group of photographs in the shape of postal
cards; a wonderful assortment of fleshlings, of young ladies who dazzle
and display abundant charms before the footlights. He remembered that an
explanation was due to Snorky, and that the explanation would have to be
very convincing. One photograph fascinated him; it was so like the way
Tina would look, if there were a Tina!

The young lady in graceful tights, legs crossed in a figure four, elbow
resting on a marble column, her chin supported by the index finger, was
smiling out at him with a full dental smile.

"Say, do a fellow a favor?" he said.

"Sure for a nice boy like you I will," she said, encouragingly.

"Just sign across here--it's a joke."

"Oh, it's a joke?"

"Yes, of course. Sign 'Faithfully yours,'--no--'Fondly yours.'"

"Fondly yours," said the gum chewer, writing with a flourish.

"Tina."

"T--I--N--A."

"Turner."

"Indeed, I'll not!" said the girl with sudden indignation. "Turner's my
name, and I can't have any such picture--"

"All right, all right, make it 'Tanner' then."

With the photograph as evidence safely bestowed in an inner pocket, he
set out on the long homeward trudge. The weakness was gone, his
imagination was now all on the story he would have to tell Snorky.
Heavens, what had been crowded into one short hour;--love, treachery,
revenge and triumph! Once a sudden rush of tears caught him, but he
fought down the mood. The test had been soul-trying, but the victory was
his. So he marched along, blowing out his courage as he chanted a
defiant marching song and if Providence had but endowed him with a tail,
he would have carried it proudly like a banner as he stalked across the
campus and found his way into the Kennedy.

"Who is it?" said a startled voice.

"Hush, it's Skippy."

"Thank