r boy Jack as is mentioned for conspeakyewous bravery.
Aren't you glad and proud?"

"Glad and proud? O Mary! silly child. And I am to be the bride of
another. Nay, father insists that I shall give Sir Digby his answer
to-night at the ball."

"An' I should do it, missus; that I should. I'd put it in fine polite
English, but I'd put it straight, all the same. When he knelt before
me,--'Jump up, old Granger,' I should say. 'Right about face. Shoulder
hip. Quick march. I loves another, and I cannot marry thee.'"

"O Mary," said Gerty, smiling in spite of herself, "how you talk! Hush,
child; not another word. I'm bound to make my father happy, and--I
will."

* * * * *

The ball to which Gerty and her father were going that evening was Sir
Digby's. This gentleman possessed both a town and a country house; but
if the truth must be told, he was at present absolutely living on his
future prospects.

"Well," he told one of his chief cronies that evening before the arrival
of the guests, "when my brother dies--and he is a terribly old buffer--I
shall drop into a nice thing. But it is just like my confounded luck
that he should linger so long. And to tell you the truth, D'Orsay, I'm a
bit pinched, and some of the Jews are pressing."

"Why don't you marry?"

"Well, I'm going to. Ah! she's a sweet young thing, Miss Keane; and
though the father is a skinflint, he's wealthy, and I'll make him settle
a bit before I give my ancient name away. Wager on that."

"Hold hard, Digby; I wouldn't be your friend if I didn't tell you."

"Didn't tell me what?"

"Why, man, haven't you heard? The firm of Griffin, Keane, and Co. is
ruined. 'Pon honour. South Sea biz, or something. Had it from a friend,
who had it from one of the firm. It's a secret, mind. But it is true."

"Good heavens, D'Orsay, you do not tell me so? Then I too am ruined!"

"What! you haven't proposed--you're not tied?"

"Nay, nay; all but. That is nothing, D'Orsay--nothing; but on the
strength of this marriage I have borrowed thousands. Fleet prison is my
fate if what you say is true."

"Look here, Digby," said D'Orsay, after a pause, "you are a man of the
world, like myself. Now if I were you, I should transfer my affections.
See?"

"In which quarter?"

"Why, there is Miss Gordon; a trifle old, to be sure, but positively
rolling in wealth, and rolling her eyes whenever she sees you."

Sir Digby muttered something about a bag of