e smallest turn of chance might have made a deadbeat of
almost any poet of parts.

Mr. Crips actually sighed over that vision of fair women, and longed to
be that happy toreador.

"Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,
Before we, too, into the dust descend:
Dust unto dust, and under dust to lie,
Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and--sans End."

The quotation had just escaped our hero lips when a young fellow garbed
as Romeo, alighting from a hansom, dashed into him.

"By Jove, that was dooced awkward of me--yes, I beg your pardon, I'm
sure. Should have looked where I was going--what? said Romeo.

"Not at all," answered Nickie politely. "My fault in blocking the path.
My fault, entirely."

"By Jo-o-ve!" gasped Romeo; "that's a stunnin' make-up, old chap--what?
Nevah saw a bettah, by gad."

"Make-up?" said Nicholas. Mr. Crips had for gotten his false nose.

"Ya-as," said Romeo. "Your character, you know. A fellah 'd think you'd
just come from sleeping in a rubbish bin. Yes. Best Weary Willie I've
seen. But aren't you coming in, dear boy? You're a cart for Dolly's prize
for best-sustained character, eh?"

"Presently--presently." said Nicholas, smitten with a sudden idea.
"Waiting for a friend, you know."

Romeo went up the garden path, and Nickie the Kid retired under the
shadow of the hedge to allow his thoughts to revolve. Romeo's words had
suggested possibilities. Mr. Crips rarely wasted time making up his mind.
Three minutes later he was sauntering jauntily up the garden path on the
heels of a laughing Red Indian set.

It was a fancy dress ball. All the guests were masked or otherwise
disguised. Nickie had never encountered a softer thing. He determined to
make a night of it at the expense of the host of "White-cliff." To avoid
unpleasantness at the door, Nickie boldly climbed up the trellis of a
vine, and entered the noisy crowded ballroom through an open window,
rolling head over heels among the guests.

His appearance provoked a shout of laughter. This was the proper way for
a tramp to enter such a house. It was accepted as a quaint effort of
humour. Weary Willie was applauded, and his appearance, when he rose to
his feet, occasioned fresh merriment.

The "make-up" of Mr. Crips was certainly very effective, but with the
exception of the false nose it was nothing but his ordinary habit. He
wore a pair of old grey trousers, lashed up with one brace, and belted
with a strip of red m