was I to know what was the matter? I puzzled my brains enough over it, I
assure you."

"And that red-headed impostor has been chuckling in his sleeve ever
since, I suppose," said Cyn, indignantly; then seizing. Mr. Stanwood by
the arms, she cried, in a transport of delight, "and it really is true?
you are our 'C?'"

"What! am I not yet believed?" he questioned, laughing; "what more shall
I do to convince you of my identity? you accepted our red-headed friend
readily enough!"

"Oh! I believe you!" cried Nattie, eagerly; then stopped, and colored,
abashed at her own so plainly shown delight.

But Mr. Stanwood looked at her with a gratified expression in his brown
eyes.

"And you will not snub me any more, will you?" he said, pleadingly;
"because I never use bear's grease or musk, and my hair isn't red a
bit!"

"I will try and make amends," Nattie answered, shyly; adding, "I ought
to have known there was some mistake. I never could reconcile that
creature and--and 'C'!"

"Then I may flatter myself that I am an improvement?" asked Mr.
Stanwood, merrily; at which Nattie murmured something about fishing for
compliments, and Cyn replied gayly,

"Yes; because you have curly hair! You remember what I said on the wire,
_via_ Nat?"

"Could I forget?" he replied, gallantly.

"And it isn't a dream! You are 'C', the real 'C,'" replied Cyn, pinching
herself, and then seizing Nattie, who, from the suddenness of it all was
yet in a semi-bewildered state--there was not a bit of unhappiness in
it, though--waltzed ecstatically around the room, crying, "Oh! I am so
glad! I am so glad!"

At this point Quimby, who, during the preceding explanation had listened
with a face illustrating every variety of consternation and dismay,
attracted attention to himself by an audible groan, observing which, he
muttered something about his "wound"--the word had a double meaning for
him then, poor fellow!--and rising, came forward, took his friend by the
shoulder, and asked, solemnly,

"Now, Clem--I--I beg pardon--but is it--is this all true, and--and not
one of your jokes, you know? Honestly, are you that--that 'C'?"

"Here is a doubting Thomas for you!" cried Clem, gayly. "But, upon my
word of honor, old boy, I truly and honestly am 'that C,' and I suppose
you were the 'other visitor of no consequence,' who called with Miss
Archer that day I was favored by an introduction to her. How little I
thought it then!"

"How little _I_ thought