frantically in every pocket. 'I--I must
have _lost_ my purse,' I faltered, beginning to cry, for I saw he did
not believe me, and thought that I meant to beat my way, as they call
it, when just at that instant puffing and panting, up came the other
conductor--the handsome fellow whom I had just left.

"'You dropped your purse on the seat of my car,' he said, raising his
hat from his dark curls. 'Permit me to return it to you.'

"I was so overjoyed to get it that I forgot to thank him. I remembered
later that I had not done so. And what do you think? that very evening
he called with a book I had also left on the seat, and which I had
entirely forgotten. My name and address were written on the fly-leaf.
Just at that moment one of the young men from the book-bindery happened
along who knew him, and he introduced us. I did not invite him in, but
we stood and talked for an hour or more on the steps, and he asked at
length for the pleasure of my company to go with him to the theater the
following evening, if my folks were willing.

"I told him I had no relatives to consult, and that I'd like ever so
much to go, but--but I had heard that he was Nadine Holt's regular
company. Oh, Jess, how angry he got when I said that! He flushed to the
very roots of his dark hair. You ought to have seen him.

"'Pardon me, but I am _not_!' he replied, 'though I hear that she is
circulating such a story; but there is no better authority on the
subject than myself. I have spoken to her a few times; but it is
ridiculous for a girl to presume, if a man is pleasant to her, that he
wants to marry her. I cannot even say that I admire Miss Nadine Holt. As
a rule a man like myself does not admire a girl whose acquaintance he
can form through a handkerchief flirtation.

"I thought of telling Nadine that, but you know what a fury she is. Why,
she would almost kill me, I believe, if she once got an inkling that I
knew about it.

"Well, to make a long story short, it so chanced that he happened along
our street every night after that, and always found me, quite by chance,
sitting out on the steps, and so he stopped for a chat. And now comes
the most wonderful part of the affair. He is no _real_ street-car
conductor at all. I don't mean just that, but--oh, Jess! this is what I
mean: he--he bet with a number of young gentlemen the last election and
lost the wager. If he lost he was to come to New York and be a
street-car conductor for three months, and