"Of course," I retorted. "It is not one of your jokes. But say, Harry,
when you send a poem to a magazine and the editor doesn't want it, what
does he do with it?"
"Returns it. Ah!"
The "ah" was a gasp.
"You are the hair-splitter this time," said he, ruefully.
"I am," said I. "I could effectually destroy a whole wig of hairs like
that. If you are right in your reasoning as to Maude's love for me, I am
right as regards her love for you. We are both splitting hairs in most
unprofitable fashion."
"We are," said Harry, with a sigh. "There is only one way to settle the
matter."
"And that?"
"Let's call around there now and ask her."
"I am agreeable," said I.
"Often," said Harry, ringing for our coats.
In a few moments we were ready to depart; and as we stepped out into the
night, whom should we run up against but that detestable Jimmie Brown!
"Whither away, boys?" he asked; in his usual bubblesome manner.
"We are going to make a call."
"Ah! Well, wait a minute, won't you? I have some news. I'm in great
luck, and I want you fellows to join me in a health to the future Mrs.
B."
"Engaged at last, eh, Brown?" said Harry.
I did not speak, for I felt a sudden and most depressing sinking of the
heart.
"Yes," said Brown; and then he told us to whom.
It is not necessary to mention the lady's name. Suffice it to say that
Harry and I both returned to our corner in the club, discarded our
overcoats, and talked about two subjects.
Pages:
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163