st as glad as ever for a romp over the
meadows, and a breezy gallop across the hills once more. If you or Mr.
Maxwell," glancing at that gloomy youth sideways out of her curls, "care
much for fishing, and come up our way any time this summer, I'll try
and treat you as well as you have treated me."

"But you haven't treated us well, Miss Fanny," Mr. Warden said, looking
unspeakable things. "You take our hearts by storm, and then break them
ruthlessly by leaving us. What sort of treatment do you call that?"

Miss Summers only laughed, and looked saucy; and danced away, leaving
her two admirers standing together out in the cold.

"Well, Tom," Mr. Warden said, "and so the game's up, the play played
out, the curtain ready to fall. The star actress departs to-morrow--and
now, what do you think of the performance?"

"Not much," responded Tom, moodily. "I can't see that you have kept your
promise. You've made love to her, I allow, _con amore_, confoundedly as
if you meant it, in fact; but I don't see where the jilting comes in; I
can't see where's my revenge."

"Don't you?" said Paul, thoughtfully lighting his cigar. "Well, come to
think of it, I don't either. To tell you the truth, I haven't had a
chance to jilt her. I may be irresistible, and I have no doubt I am,
since you say so; but, somehow, the charm don't seem to work with our
little favorite. Here I have been for the last two months just as
captivating as I know how; and yet there's that girl ready to be off
to-morrow to the country, without so much as a crack in the heart that
should be broken in smithereens. But still," with a sudden change of
voice, and slapping him lightly on the shoulder, "dear old boy, I don't
despair of giving you your revenge yet!"

Tom lifted his gloomy eyes in sullen inquiry.

"Never mind now," said Paul Warden airily; "give me a few weeks longer.
Lazy as I am, I have never failed yet in anything I have seriously
undertaken; and, upon my word, I'm more serious about this matter than
you may believe. Trust to your friend, and wait."

That was all Mr. Warden would deign to say.

Tom, not being able to do otherwise, took him at his word, dragged out
existence, and waited for his cherished revenge.

Miss Summers left town next day, and Tom, poor, miserable fellow, felt
as if the sun had ceased to shine, and the scheme of the universe become
a wretched failure, when he caught the last glimmer of the lustrous
black eyes, the last flutter