Rod Allen? Well, he's home from the west now, immensely rich, they
say, and his attentions to Nellie are the town talk. I think she likes
him too. If you bury yourself any longer at Ashley Mills I won't be
responsible for the consequences."

This lifted an immense weight from my mind, but the ninth page hurled
it back again.

"You never say anything of Miss Ashley in your letters. What is she
like--young or old, ugly or pretty, clever or dull? I met a lady
recently who knows her and thinks she is charming. She also said Miss
Ashley was to be married soon to Rev. Something-or-Other. Is it true?"

Aye, was it? Quite likely. Kate's letter made a very miserable man of
me. Gussie found me a dull companion that day. After several vain
attempts to rouse me to interest she gave it up.

"There's no use talking to you," she said impatiently. "I believe you
are homesick. That letter you got this morning looked suspicious.
Anyhow, I hope you'll get over it before I get back."

"Are you going away again?" I asked.

"Yes. I am going to stay a few days with Flossie." Flossie was that
inseparable chum of hers.

"You seem to spend a good deal of your time with her," I remarked
discontentedly.

Gussie opened her eyes at my tone.

"Why, of course," she said. "Flossie and I have always been chums. And
she needs me more than ever just now, for she is awfully busy. She is
to be married next month."

"Oh, I see--and you--"

"I'm to be bridesmaid, of course, and we've heaps to do. Flossie
wanted to wait until Christmas, but Mr. Martin is in a--"

"Mr. Martin," I interrupted. "Is Mr. Martin going to marry your
friend?"

"Why, yes. Didn't you know? They just suit each other. There he comes
now. He's going to drive me over, and I'm not ready. Talk to him, for
pity's sake, while I go and dress."

I never enjoyed a conversation more. Rev. Carroll Martin was a
remarkably interesting man.

Nellie married Rod Allen at Christmas and I was best man. Nellie made
a charming little bride, and Rod fairly worshipped her. My own wedding
did not come off until spring, as Gussie said she could not get ready
before that.

Kismet

The fifth heat in the free-for-all was just over. "Lu-Lu" had won, and
the crowd on the grand stand and the hangers-on around the track were
cheering themselves hoarse. Clear through the noisy clamour shrilled a
woman's cry.

"Ah--I have dropped my scorecard."

A man in front of her turned.

"I have