th the inventor than she would be with him. It was
not a pleasant thought, but even then he cast aside his selfishness with
a great struggle, and determined that he would not stand in the way of
an event which would crush his fondest hopes. Jim did not know women as
well as he thought he did. He did not see that the two met more like two
women than like representatives of opposite sexes. He did not see that
the sympathy between the pair was the sympathy of two natures which
would be the happiest in dependence, and that Miss Butterworth could no
more have chosen Mr. Benedict for a husband than she could have chosen
her own sister.

Mr. Benedict had never been informed by Jim of the name of the woman
whom he hoped to make his wife, but he saw at once, and with sincere
pleasure, that he was in her presence; and when he had finished what he
had to say to her, and again heartily expressed his pleasure in renewing
her acquaintance, he rose to go.

"Jim, I will not cut your call short, but I must get back, to my room
and prepare for to-morrow's journey. Let me leave you here, and find my
way back to my lodgings alone."

"All right," said Jim, "but we ain't goin' home to-morrer."

Benedict bade Miss Butterworth "good-night," but, as he was passing out
of the room, Jim remembered that there was something that he wished to
say to him, and so passed out with him, telling Miss Butterworth that he
should soon return.

When the door closed behind them, and they stood alone in the darkness,
Jim said, with his hand on his companion's shoulder, and an awful lie in
his throat:

"I brung ye here hopin' ye'd take a notion to this little woman. She'd
do more for ye nor anybody else. She can make yer clo'es, and be good
company for ye, an'--"

"And provide for me. No, that won't do, Jim."

"Well, you'd better think on't."

"No, Jim, I shall never marry again."

"Now's yer time. Nobody knows what'll happen afore mornin'."

"I understand you, Jim," said Mr. Benedict, "and I know what all this
costs you. You are worthy of her, and I hope you'll get her."

Mr. Benedict tore himself away, but Jim said, "hold on a bit."

Benedict turned, and then Jim inquired:

"Have ye got a piece of Indian rubber?"

"Yes."

"Then jest rub out the picter of the little feller in front of the
stoop, an' put in Turk. If so be as somethin' happens to-night, I sh'd
want to show her the plans in the mornin'; an' if she should ax me whose
little fel