the tide of passers-by was less full and
more leisurely in its movements than it was during the seething, working
hours of daylight, but the electric cars swung past each other with
whiz and clang of bell almost unceasingly, their sound being swelled, at
short intervals, by the roar and rumbling rattle of the trains dashing
by on the elevated railroad. This, however, to the frequenters of
Shandy's, was the usual accompaniment of every-day New York life and was
regarded as a rather cheerful sort of thing.

This evening the four claimants of the favourite corner table had met
together earlier than usual. Jem Belter, who "hammered" a typewriter at
Schwab's Brewery, Tom Wetherbee, who was "in a downtown office," Bert
Johnson, who was "out for the Delkoff," and Nick Baumgarten, who having
for some time "beaten" certain streets as assistant salesman for the
same illustrious machine, had been recently elevated to a "territory" of
his own, and was therefore in high spirits.

"Say!" he said. "Let's give him a fine dinner. We can make it between
us. Beefsteak and mushrooms, and potatoes hashed brown. He likes them.
Good old G. S. I shall be right glad to see him. Hope foreign travel has
not given him the swell head."

"Don't believe it's hurt him a bit. His letter didn't sound like it.
Little Georgie ain't a fool," said Jem Belter.

Tom Wetherbee was looking over the letter referred to. It had been
written to the four conjointly, towards the termination of Selden's
visit to Mr. Penzance. The young man was not an ardent or fluent
correspondent; but Tom Wetherbee was chuckling as he read the epistle.

"Say, boys," he said, "this big thing he's keeping back to tell us when
he sees us is all right, but what takes me is old George paying a visit
to a parson. He ain't no Young Men's Christian Association."

Bert Johnson leaned forward, and looked at the address on the letter
paper.

"Mount Dunstan Vicarage," he read aloud. "That looks pretty swell,
doesn't it?" with a laugh. "Say, fellows, you know Jepson at the office,
the chap that prides himself on reading such a lot? He said it reminded
him of the names of places in English novels. That Johnny's the biggest
snob you ever set your tooth into. When I told him about the lord fellow
that owns the castle, and that George seemed to have seen him, he nearly
fell over himself. Never had any use for George before, but just you
watch him make up to him when he sees him next."

Pe