sent from his usual
haunts, and when he did appear again he wore a becoming air of dignified
dejection.

"Hullo, Major!" said a young fellow named the Honourable George Buzzard,
as he familiarly struck him on the shoulder. "Why these tears of
sadness, eh?"

"My boy, I've been badly treated. I've been jilted."

"Jilted, have you! and by whom?"

"Young Trevor."

"What! Helen Trevor! that youngster who is causing all our fashionable
beauties to hug the green-eyed monster. Then shake hands, Major. For I
met the same fate yesterday."

"You did, George?"

"Yes. I suppose you noticed that I have been paying a good deal of
attention to old Browne's daughter."

"Don't know her, George."

"Oh! her father is a squatter in Australia, with millions. She's his
heiress, and not a bad sort either."

"She refused you. Eh?"

"Rather, and now she's engaged to the Earl of Bentham."

"It's the title, my boy. Younger sons have no show nowadays; but how
those Australians run after titles. Eh?"

"By Jove, they do," said the other. "But now, as we are companions in
misfortune, let's drown our sorrows," and he led the Major in the
direction of his club.

Here they were joined by Thomas Thomas, Esq., known to the entire
Society world as "Tommy" only. He was one of that common class of young
men whom only Society produces. Without any income or apparent means of
subsistence he did not work, yet he was invariably well-dressed, and had
the _entree_ of the best houses. Welcome there because he could readily
adapt himself to any occasion, preserve a constantly agreeable manner,
and had the details of the latest scandal at his finger-ends; in fact
was one of the parasites that Society creates, and without whom it
cannot get along the thorny path of its day's enjoyment. Tommy greeted
the two men with a silent nod, and waited, with the caution typical of
his species, to discover the subject of their conversation. This did not
take him long, as experience in this work had sharpened his wits.
Sitting down beside them, he heaved a deep sigh, and said, sadly:

"I have been atrociously treated, you fellows. The little widow has
thrown me over."

"What, another!" cried the Major. "Then sit down, Tommy, and enjoy
yourself. By Jove, we ought to start a club for fellows like ourselves,
and call it the Jilted Club."

"A grand idea!" said Tommy, rubbing his hands. "Why we can already
number five, for I know Watson and Carrington have suffere