all right," said I. "That's how I hoped to hear you, Jim."

"And so the Flying Scud was a fraud," he resumed. "I didn't quite
understand your letter, but I made out that."

"Fraud is a mild term for it," said I. "The creditors will never believe
what fools we were. And that reminds me," I continued, rejoicing in the
transition, "how about the bankruptcy?"

"You were lucky to be out of that," answered Jim, shaking his head;
"you were lucky not to see the papers. The _Occidental_ called me a
fifth-rate Kerbstone broker with water on the brain; another said I was
a tree-frog that had got into the same meadow with Longhurst, and
had blown myself out till I went pop. It was rough on a man in his
honeymoon; so was what they said about my looks, and what I had on, and
the way I perspired. But I braced myself up with the Flying Scud. How
did it exactly figure out anyway? I don't seem to catch on to that
story, Loudon."

"The devil you don't!" thinks I to myself; and then aloud: "You see
we had neither one of us good luck. I didn't do much more than cover
current expenses; and you got floored immediately. How did we come to go
so soon?"

"Well, we'll have to have a talk over all this," said Jim with a sudden
start. "I should be getting to my books; and I guess you had better
go up right away to Mamie. She's at Speedy's. She expects you with
impatience. She regards you in the light of a favourite brother,
Loudon."

Any scheme was welcome which allowed me to postpone the hour of
explanation, and avoid (were it only for a breathing space) the topic
of the Flying Scud. I hastened accordingly to Bush Street. Mrs. Speedy,
already rejoicing in the return of a spouse, hailed me with acclamation.
"And it's beautiful you're looking, Mr. Dodd, my dear," she was kind
enough to say. "And a miracle they naygur waheenies let ye lave the
oilands. I have my suspicions of Shpeedy," she added, roguishly. "Did ye
see him after the naygresses now?"

I gave Speedy an unblemished character.

"The one of ye will niver bethray the other," said the playful dame, and
ushered me into a bare room, where Mamie sat working a type-writer.

I was touched by the cordiality of her greeting. With the prettiest
gesture in the world she gave me both her hands; wheeled forth a chair;
and produced, from a cupboard, a tin of my favourite tobacco, and a book
of my exclusive cigarette papers.

"There!" she cried; "you see, Mr. Loudon, we were all prepared for