," "kiss," and "miss."

Interference, however delicately managed, seemed hopeless after that,
and I said as much. But I added: "Of course, if you let him alone, he
may come back to his better self. Perhaps the young lady herself may
prove to be your ally."

"Indeed not! She has set out deliberately to ensnare my poor Euty," said
the mother, with an incisive drawing in of her expressively thin lips.
"I knew it the very first evening I saw them together."

"Mightn't it have been sheer trifling on her part ?" I suggested.

"Can you imagine that young woman _daring_ to trifle with Eustace
Eubanks?" she demanded.

I could, as a matter of fact; but as her query seemed to repel such a
disclosure, I lied.

"True," I said, "she would never dare. I didn't think of that."

"With _all_ her frivolity and lightness of manner and fondness for
dress, she must have some sense of fitness--"

"She must, indeed!"

"She could not go _that_ far!"

"Certainly _not_!"

"Even if she _does_ wear too many ribbons and laces and fancy furbelows,
with never a common-sense shoe to her foot!"

"Even if she _does_" I assented warmly.

And thus we were compelled to leave it. In view of those verses I could
suggest no plan for relief, and my one poor morsel of encouragement had
been stonily rejected.

Eustace went the mad pace. So did Arthur Updyke. It was rather to be
expected of Arthur, however. His duties at the City Drug Store seemed to
encourage a debonair lightness of conduct. He treated his blond ringlets
assiduously from the stock of pomades; he was as fastidious about his
fingernails as we might expect one to be in an environment of manicure
implements and nail beautifiers; it was his privilege to make free with
the varied assortment of perfumes--a privilege he forewent in no degree;
his taste in tooth-powders was widely respected; and in moments of
leisure, while he leaned upon a showcase awaiting custom, he was wont to
draw a slender comb from an upper waistcoat pocket and pass it
delicately through his small but perfect mustache. Naturally enough, it
was said by the ladies of Little Arcady that Arthur's attentions were
never serious,--"except them he pays to himself!" Aunt Delia McCormick
would often add, for that excellent woman was not above playing
venomously with familiar words.

Also did G. Brown and Creston Fancett go the same mad pace. These four
were filled with distrust of one another, but as they composed our male