ng to Louie's again, then?"

"Going to Louie's again? Why, man alive, what do you take me for? Going
again? I should think I was. Why, Louie's the only comfort I have left
on earth."

"But Number Three?"

Jack sighed.

"Poor little thing!" said he. "She seems to be rather down just now. I
think she's regretting that she didn't take my offer. But I wrote her a
note to-day, telling her to cheer up, and all that."

"But Miss Phillips? What'll you do when she comes? When will she be
here?"

"She's expected daily."

"That will rather complicate matters--won't it?"

"Sufficient for the day," said Jack.

"I tell you what it is, my boy. I feel very much struck by Louie's idea
about the three oranges. You'll find it precious hard to keep your
three affairs in motion. You must drop one or two."

"Come, now, Macrorie--no croaking. You've got me into a placid state of
mind by telling me of your little affair. It gave me something to think
of besides my own scrapes. So don't you go to work and destroy the good
effect that you've produced. For that matter, I won't let you. I'm off,
old chap. It's fifteen minutes to three. You'd better seek your balmy
couch. No--don't stop me. You'll croak me into despair again.
Good-night, old man!"

CHAPTER XIV.

A CONCERT.--A SINGULAR CHARACTER.--"GOD SAVE THE QUEEN."--A FENIAN.--A
GENERAL ROW.--MACRORIE TO THE RESCUE!--MACRORIE'S MAIDEN SPEECH, AND
ITS EFFECTIVENESS.--O'HALLORAN.--A STRANGE COMPANION.--INVITED TO
PARTAKE OF HOSPITALITY.

On the following day I sent my notice to the papers.

On the evening of that day there was to be a concert. Everybody was
going. It was under the patronage of the military, and of course
everybody had to go. For you must know that, in a garrison-town like
Quebec, we of the military order have it all our own way. If we smile
on an undertaking, it succeeds. If we don't, it languishes. If we
frown, the only result is ruin. But, as we are generally a good-natured
lot, we smile approvingly on almost every thing. It gets to be an awful
bore; but what can we do? Societies wish our countenance at their
public gatherings, and we have to give it. Benevolent associations ask
our subscriptions; joint-stock companies wish our names; missionaries
and musicians, lawyers and lecturers, printers and preachers, tailors
and teachers, operas and oratorios, balls and Bible-meetings, funerals
and festivities, churches and concerts--in short, every thing tha