ra of black velvet,
and ending with the immediate present. That history was a continuous
record of dashing impulses, and the gayest irresponsibility; and yet,
when the time came for an accounting, Henry had offered only
explanations, and never excuses. In his glorious pursuit of the
calendar, he had paid his penalties as royally as he had earned them;
and even now, when he was confessed of the most impetuous and the
most astounding act of all his unballasted youth, he had nothing to
say in defence. As a climax, marriage had "happened" to him, and he
was braced for whatever might happen next.

Presently, Mr. Starkweather, coming out of his daze, began to wonder
if, by this very climax, Henry hadn't prescribed his own medicine, and
at the same time taken out insurance on his own salvation. For one
thing, he had selected the right girl--a girl with no money, and
plenty of character--a girl who would manage him so skilfully that
Henry would think himself the manager. For another thing, Mr.
Starkweather believed that Henry was profoundly in love with her, even
though he tried to conceal his seriousness by spreading it with a
generous helping of light manner, and modern vocabulary. These facts,
together with Mr. Starkweather's control of the finances, might
possibly operate as the twin levers which would pry Henry out of his
improvidence. The levers themselves were certainly strong enough; it
was a question only of Henry's resistance. Mr. Starkweather winced to
realize that by the time the minute-hand of his watch had gone twice
again around the dial, he should know definitely and permanently
whether Henry was worth his powder, or not.

He leaned his elbows on his desk, judicially. "I'm pretty much knocked
edgeways, Henry--but tell me one more thing; this wasn't any bet, was
it, or--"

"Bet!" flared Henry, and all the youth went out of his features.

"Yes. Nobody _dared_ you to go and get married--it wasn't any kind of
a put-up job, was it?"

The younger man was righteously indignant. "Uncle John, I admit I
haven't won any medals for--for _some_ things,--and maybe you think I
_am_ the kind of bird that would--do this on a bet, or a dare--and if
you _do_ think that--I guess we're _both_ mistaken in each other!"

His uncle's hand went up. "Hold your horses! You've answered the
question. If you hadn't got mad, I'd have thrown you out the window.
Why _did_ you do it, then?... No--never mind." He looked away. "_I_
know. Sp