w Terpy. I am virtue
itself; in fact, I am Joseph--nowadays. You know, I belong to the
cloth?" Keith's expression indicated that he had heard this fact. "But
even I have yielded to her charms--intellectual, I mean, of course."

Mr. Plume withdrew after having suggested to Keith to make him a small
temporary loan, or, if more convenient, to lend him the use of his name
on a little piece of bank-paper "to tide over an accidental and
unexpected emergency," assuring Keith that he would certainly take it up
within sixty days.

Unfortunately for Keith, Plume's cordiality had made so much impression
on him that he was compliant enough to lend him the use of his name, and
as neither at the expiration of sixty days, nor at any other time, did
Mr. Plume ever find it convenient to take up his note, Keith found
himself later under the necessity of paying it himself. This
circumstance, it is due to Mr. Plume to say, he always deplored, and
doubtless with sincerity.

* * * * *

Women were at a premium in Gumbolt, and Mr. Plume was not the only
person who hymned the praises of "Terpsichoar," as she was mainly
called. Keith could not help wondering what sort of a creature she was
who kept a dance-house and a faro-bank, and yet was spoken of with
unstinted admiration and something very like respect by the crowd that
gathered in the "big room of the Windsor." She must be handsome, and
possibly was a good dancer, but she was no doubt a wild, coarse
creature, with painted cheeks and dyed hair. The mental picture he
formed was not one to interfere with the picture he carried in
his heart.

Next day, as he was making a purchase in a shop, a neat and trim-looking
young woman, with a fresh complexion and a mouth full of white teeth,
walked in, and in a pleasant voice said, "Good mornin', all." Keith did
not associate her at all with Terpsichore, but he was surprised that old
Tim Gilsey should not have known of her presence in town. He was still
more surprised when, after having taken a long and perfectly unabashed
look at him, with no more diffidence in it than if he had been a lump of
ore she was inspecting, she said:

"You're the fellow that come to town night before last? Uncle Tim was
tellin' me about you."

"Yes; I got here night before last. Who is Uncle Tim?"

"Uncle Tim Gilsey."

She walked up and extended her hand to him with the most perfect
friendliness, adding, with a laugh as natural as a