r.

Mr. Oldstone seized the dice-box, and shaking it well, threw double
five. It was now Mr. Crucible's turn, so taking the dice-box from the
hand of the first thrower, and rattling it twice or thrice, he threw the
number twelve.

"Now then, Crucible," said Mr. Oldstone, laughing, "no shirking, but let
us have the story at once."

"What! so soon after breakfast!" exclaimed Mr. Crucible, "and before we
have had time to digest the last properly."

"I hope you will excuse my presence here gentlemen," said Mr. Hardcase,
"for I have a case to attend to."

"Now really, Hardcase, that's too bad," ejaculated Mr. Oldstone.

At this moment a servant arrived hurriedly at the "Headless Lady," to
call away Dr. Bleedem to see a patient.

"Really, gentlemen," said the doctor, "I am very sorry, but business
_is_ business."

"Business! business!" exclaimed Mr. Oldstone, in horror at such a word
being uttered within the sacred precincts of the club. "Business! Ugh!"

Professor Cyanite, too, had a great scientific work which he was getting
ready for the press, and begged also to be allowed to withdraw.

"Well, gentlemen," said Mr. Oldstone, "this is really very provoking. I
cannot think what ails you all this morning. Since our club is reft of
three such staunch members, there seems nothing else to be done but to
defer the story until the evening, when there will be no excuse for
anyone to be absent."

This was agreed to, and the remaining inmates of the "Headless Lady"
began to while away the time each after his own manner. Our artist began
a portrait of the landlord's pretty daughter. Mr. Blackdeed, who was
only here for the holidays, sat to work to finish a tragedy that he had
begun. Mr. Parnassus composed an ode. Mr. Crucible retired to his
chamber to try some chemical experiment, and Mr. Oldstone, finding
himself deserted, had nothing left him to do but to look over his
cabinet of curiosities.

Let us return to our artist and his model. How happy they both are! Both
of them young and good-looking, and left all to themselves. With what
inspiration the hand of the painter glides over his canvas, and how the
face of the pretty Helen brightens up every time the artist refreshes
his memory by taking a peep at her from behind his easel. There is no
affectation in the expression or the pose of the sitter, it is quite
easy and natural, and beautifully simple. She does not seem conscious
she is sitting for her portrait.

Ever