through the meshes in this net, the
experience of Mr. Weil served him in good stead. He could fill in the
vacant places in the story with substantial correctness.

"I don't know what Miss Millicent will say to all this," he remarked,
when the recital came to a pause.

"I think she was just beginning to like you a little herself. Most of
our talk last evening was about you, and when I mentioned, as I took my
leave, that you were probably out walking with Daisy, I could see
distinct traces of jealousy. I want to be fair with my client. I told
her that you came there to learn love from her, not from her little
sister. If all this should result in breaking her heart, I don't see how
I could excuse myself. And the other one, she seems such a child, I
never thought of her in that connection. Why, how old is she--not over
eighteen, I think."

Roseleaf answered that Daisy would be nineteen on her next birthday, an
ingenious way of stating age that was not original with him.

"All right," said Archie, digesting this statement slowly. "And now,
what is your programme?"

Roseleaf looked surprised at the business-like nature of the question.

"I mean to secure her consent to marry me, as soon as possible," he
said.

"And then?"

"Why, see her father, I suppose. Isn't that the most important thing to
do?"

Mr. Weil shook his head decidedly.

"Not by any means. You must not act with undue haste. Mr. Fern would say
she was too young to think of matrimony, a proposition you could not
successfully dispute. Besides, should he happen to give his consent and
appoint a week from Wednesday for the happy occasion, see what a mess
it would put you in."

The suggestion caused the brightest of smiles to illumine the
countenance of the listener.

"It would make me the happiest of mortals!" he cried. "There is nothing
that could prevent my summoning the clergyman and securing the prize I
desire."

Mr. Weil grunted.

"H--m! And in the meanwhile what would become of your great novel?"

This question brought a sober pause to the young novelist.

"I could write it after my wedding," he answered, finally.

"Could you? You could write nothing at all then--nothing that any one
would pay a cent to read. I have told you from the start that what you
want is a _grande passion_, something to stir your soul to its depths.
You are on the verge of that experience. Already you have had a glimpse
of what it will be like. For the first time t