asant duty to society and one no less pleasant to yourself. In
Germany particularly, the engaged state is one of great honor. You
advertise the important event in the newspapers, above the marriages
and births; you walk abroad with your _fiancee_ arm-in-arm (which is
an inestimable privilege); you introduce her with much ceremony to
your uncles and cousins and aunts; you receive congratulations--in
short, you become a sort of public character, until some one else goes
and follows your illustrious example. Then you become an old story and
lapse into insignificance.

It was this ravishing vision of the engaged state, with its attendant
festivities, which had excited Roeschen's imagination. She had seen
herself a hundred times on Grover's arm, making the round of her whole
circle of acquaintance, and introducing him triumphantly to her pet
enemies. He would, of course, at a hint from her, be gracious to those
who had been kind to her, and politely snub those who had been
disagreeable to her. There was a day of reckoning coming for those who
had made sport of Roeschen's verses, a day of glorious revenge. But the
trouble now was, that, although Roeschen looked upon herself as
engaged, and respected herself accordingly, she did not have the
courage to claim her _fiance_. She was, as it were, anonymously
engaged. The uncertainty of the thing tortured her. She was more than
once tempted to sit down and write to Mr. Grover, telling him that it
was she to whom he was engaged; but the thought that he might, in that
case, divine her plot always deterred her. That he had quarrelled with
Miss Jones hardly simplified the matter; for a lover's quarrel of that
sort is never such a serious affair as the parties involved are apt to
think. If only Miss Jones would have the inspiration to go to Berlin
or to Stuttgart, or to Halifax, the road to Grover's affections would
be comparatively plain sailing. But Miss Jones, in spite of the most
pointed hints regarding the superior musical advantages of other
cities, persisted in remaining where she was. She practiced with an
odious regularity and indefatigable zeal, which knew neither weariness
nor discouragement. She did not grow perceptibly thinner, nor did her
complexion show the ravages of sorrow. It was unanimously resolved by
the ladies of the household that she was a cold and heartless monster.
If it hadn't been for the fact that she paid forty dollars a month
(which was put aside for dowri