er which he had only glanced casually.
When he was comfortably settled, Peter and Phil walked down the steps,
upon the lowest of which they seated themselves. The colonel had
scarcely begun to read before he called to the old man.

"Peter," he said, "I wish you'd go upstairs, and look in my room, and
bring me a couple of light-coloured cigars from the box on my
bureau--the mild ones, you know, Peter."

"Yas, suh, I knows, suh, de mil' ones, dem wid de gol' ban's 'roun'
'em. Now you stay right hyuh, chile, till Peter come back."

Peter came up the steps and disappeared in the doorway.

The colonel opened a letter from Kirby, in which that energetic and
versatile gentleman assured the colonel that he had evolved a great
scheme, in which there were millions for those who would go into it.
He had already interested Mrs. Jerviss, who had stated she would be
governed by what the colonel did in the matter. The letter went into
some detail upon this subject, and then drifted off into club and
social gossip. Several of the colonel's friends had inquired
particularly about him. One had regretted the loss to their whist
table. Another wanted the refusal of his box at the opera, if he were
not coming back for the winter.

"I think you're missed in a certain quarter, old fellow. I know a lady
who would be more than delighted to see you. I am invited to her house
to dinner, ostensibly to talk about our scheme, in reality to talk
about you.

"But this is all by the way. The business is the thing. Take my
proposition under advisement. We all made money together before; we
can make it again. My option has ten days to run. Wire me before it is
up what reply to make. I know what you'll say, but I want your 'ipse
dixit.'"

The colonel knew too what his reply would be, and that it would be
very different from Kirby's anticipation. He would write it, he
thought, next day, so that Kirby should not be kept in suspense, or so
that he might have time to enlist other capital in the enterprise. The
colonel felt really sorry to disappoint his good friends. He would
write and inform Kirby of his plans, including that of his approaching
marriage.

He had folded the letter and laid it down, and had picked up a
newspaper, when Peter returned with the cigars and a box of matches.

"Mars Henry?" he asked, "w'at's gone wid de chile?"

"Phil?" replied the colonel, looking toward the step, from which the
boy had disappeared. "I suppose he went