as expected, "Bill"
wisely shrugged his shoulders. "Soapy" interpreted the shrug as
affirmative,--having a distinct advantage over "Bill," who hadn't the
faintest idea which it was,--and proceeded to go a little deeper into
the matter.

"Now, as I was saying, this Landover guy is up against something, Bill.
She handed him something he didn't like. Right on the nose, too, if I'm
any judge. What do you suppose it was, Bill?"

"Bill" nodded his head very earnestly.

"That's what I think," said "Soapy," fixing his hearer with a moody,
speculative frown. "Now, I know something about this Landover guy that
she don't know. I suppose A. A. will give me an awful panning if I up
and tell her what I saw that day. He seems to think it's a secret."

There was a slight pause, suggesting to "Bill" that he ought to frown as
if also in doubt.

"At the same time, I think she ought to be told, don't you, Bill?"

This called for something definite. So Bill scratched his left ear.

"In the first place, she's too nice a girl to be hitched up with a
Priscilla like him. Now, I don't know what happened here a couple of
minutes ago, but it looks to me as if she needs a little moral support.
It strikes me that this would be a good time to tell her. What do you
think about it, Bill?"

Always on the lookout for rising inflections, "Bill" was ever in a
position to give prompt replies. He could dispose of the most profound
questions almost before they were out of the speaker's mouth. His answer
to "Soapy's" query was a broad grin,--for he had detected a sly twinkle
in the speaker's eye. He also shrugged his shoulders and spread out his
hands,--and, to clinch the matter, he winked.

"Now, I don't want to take this important step without being backed-up
by some clever, intelligent feller like you, Bill," went on "Soapy."
"It's all for her good,--and A. A.'s, too, although he won't see it in
that light. If you say you think she ought to be told, that's enough for
me. If you say she oughtn't,--why, nothing doing. It's up to you, Bill."

"Bill" was plainly at sea. You can't decide a question that lacks an
interrogation point. So all that "Bill" could do was to stare blankly
at "Soapy" and wait for something tangible to turn up. Mr. Shay suddenly
appreciated the poor fellow's dilemma and supplied the necessary relief.

"What say, Bill?"

Whereupon "Bill" started to shake his head, but, catching the scowl of
disapproval on "Soapy's" brow, hast