elics on the desk, and getting a suitable piece of
paper to wrap them in. He rejected several pieces as inappropriate.

"I don't know what kind of paper to do these things up in," he said at
last.

"Any special kind of paper required?" Boardman asked, pausing in the
act of folding a pair of pantaloons so as not to break the fall over the
boot.

"I didn't know there was, but there seems to be," said Dan.

"Silver paper seems to be rather more for cake and that sort of thing,"
suggested Boardman. "Kind of mourning too, isn't it--silver?"

"I don't know," said Dan. "But I haven't got any silver paper."

"Newspaper wouldn't do?"

"Well, hardly, Boardman," said Dan, with sarcasm.

"Well," said Boardman, "I should have supposed that nothing could be
simpler than to send back a lot of love-letters; but the question of
paper seems insuperable. Manila paper wouldn't do either. And then comes
string. What kind of string are you going to tie it up with?"

"Well, we won't start that question till we get to it," answered Dan,
looking about. "If I could find some kind of a box--"

"Haven't you got a collar box? Be the very thing!" Boardman had
gone back to the coats and trousers, abandoning Dan to the subtler
difficulties in which he was involved.

"They've all got labels," said Mavering, getting down one marked "The
Tennyson" and another lettered "The Clarion," and looking at them with
cold rejection.

"Don't see how you're going to send these things back at all, then. Have
to keep them, I guess." Boardman finished his task, and came back to
Dan.

"I guess I've got it now," said Mavering, lifting the lid of his desk,
and taking out a large stiff envelope, in which a set of photographic
views had come.

"Seems to have been made for it," Boardman exulted, watching the
envelope, as it filled up, expand into a kind of shapely packet. Dan
put the things silently in, and sealed the parcel with his ring. Then he
turned it over to address it, but the writing of Alice's name for this
purpose seemed too much for him, in spite of Boardman's humorous support
throughout.

"Oh, I can't do it," he said, falling back in his chair.

"Let me," said his friend, cheerfully ignoring his despair. He
philosophised the whole transaction, as he addressed the package, rang
for a messenger, and sent it away, telling him to call a cab for ten
minutes past two.

"Mighty good thing in life that we move by steps. Now on the stage, or
in a n