ke into the air.

"I was a big fool. I can realize it now," he went on. "I should have
passed Grace by long ago."

"Was that the name of the girl?"

"Yes. Her father is well-to-do, and gives her everything her heart
desires. Consequently, she has been leading me around like a puppy dog
tied to a string."

"I see. That is not very pleasant."

"I thought I loved her, but I fancy now that I was too good for her,"
continued the fashionably dressed young man. "But let me tell you the
whole story.

"I called on Grace for over a month, and finally told her that I loved
her. She said she thought her father would never consent to our
marriage. Then I asked her if she was willing to elope with me.

"I believe that angered her, but she didn't show it. She said she would
think it over, and the next day sent a note saying she would be ready
any time I fixed. Oh, what a fool I was to believe her!"

"And she wouldn't elope?" asked Nat.

"It was arranged that she should be in readiness the next morning at
four o'clock, and that I should procure a carriage and call for her. We
would drive to a minister in the next town, and be married, and then ask
her father's forgiveness."

"And she backed out?"

"The morning dawned dark and misty. I had obtained from a livery stable
the night before a carriage with a span of horses. At half-past three I
drove within a few yards of the house, when, according to agreement, I
saw a white handkerchief waving from a window.

"Very soon Grace made her appearance at the door. She was heavily
cloaked and veiled, and refused to speak while I hurried her into the
carriage. Off we went at a trot towards the next town. We drew up at the
door of the leading minister of the place, and I tried to assist my
companion to alight from the carriage, when she fell and hurt her ankle
on the curb."

"Well, that was too bad," said Nat, sympathetically.

"I asked her if she was hurt, when to my amazement she broke out into a
rich Irish brogue: 'It's almost kilt I am!' said she."

"Was she Irish?"

"Irish? No! It was not Grace at all, but her cook. She had put up a
cruel joke on me. And that wasn't the worst of it. Grace had told Biddy
that I was in love with her, and the ignorant cook believed it."

"And what did you do then?"

"What could I do? I told Biddy it was a trick, and I had to give her ten
dollars to keep from making a complaint to the police. Wasn't it
dreadful?"

"Yes, it was, but if I w