inutes before, now put down their glasses and
listened with intense interest to the conversation.

"You shall zee, mine friend, (wiz your permizion I shall call you mine
friend,") replied Gusher, still cool and nonchalant, and again giving
Romer's hand a decided shake, "I have hear zat grand rascal tell ze same
story so many times. You shall know zat I meets ze grand rascal on
Broadway--a few days ago--"

"You met him in New York, eh?" resumed Romer, affecting great surprise.
"Looking just as fresh and rosy as ever, I suppose, and as ready to give
himself up to the business of ornamenting society." Romer patted Gusher
on the shoulder familiarly, and smiled.

"If you should meet him again," he resumed, playfully, "and it is more
than likely you will--stop him. He does'nt take offence easily. Keep
your eye on him. Tell him you are a friend of his, and have a lady with
a fortune you would like to introduce him to. That will gain his
confidence. Then slip this card into his hand. It contains my address.
Tell him I am an old friend of his, and have some old and important
business I would like to settle. Don't let your modesty interfere with
your intentions, you know."

Gusher took the card, and after affecting to read the name placed it in
his pocket, without exhibiting the slightest change of countenance. "You
shall zee I shall do myself ze 'onar of being your diplomat," said he,
bowing himself formally out of the room.

"Romer, old fellow, what's up?" enquired one of the young men. "A spoon,
ain't he, Romer?"

"Not so much of a spoon, I take it," said another. "Considers himself a
planet illuminating the social hemisphere of the Chapman family."

"You must pardon me, gentlemen," said Romer, "for introducing a
conversation so strange to you. It refers to a matter which concerns the
gentleman and myself, which he perfectly understands, and you may hear
more of soon--not now."

Another, and very different scene from that described above, but which
forms an essential part of this history, was being enacted just outside.
While the sound of the music was reverberating over Bowling Green, and
mingling curiously with the sea-wail; while the dance went on, and all
seemed gay and festive within, two old men, bent with age and poorly
clad, were seen in front of Chapman's house, one of them leaning on a
staff. They were the two shadowy figures seen on the Battery in the
early part of the evening, looking anxiously out in the