entangled in your affairs."

"Oh, don't you fret," said Jack, dolefully. "No fear about her. She's
all right, so far.--But, see here, there's the letter."

And saying this, he tossed over to me the letter from "Number Three,"
and, filling a pipe, began smoking vigorously.

The letter was a singular one. It was highly romantic, and full of
devotion. The writer, however, declined to accept of Jack's
proposition. She pleaded her father; she couldn't leave him. She
implored Jack to wait, and finally subscribed herself his till death.
But the name which she signed was "Stella," and nothing more; and this
being evidently a pet name or a _nom de plume_, threw no light whatever
upon her real personality.

"Well," said Jack, after I had read it over about nine times, "what do
you think of that?"

"It gives you some reprieve, at any rate," said I.

"Reprieve?" said Jack. "I don't think it's the sort of letter that a
girl should write to a man who told her that he was going to blow his
brains out on her doorstep. It doesn't seem to be altogether the right
sort of thing under the circumstances."

"Why, confound it, man, isn't this the very letter that you wanted to
get? You didn't really want to run away with her? You said so
yourself."

"Oh, that's all right; but a fellow likes to be appreciated."

"So, after all, you wanted her to elope with you?"

"Well, not that, exactly. At the same time, I didn't want a point-blank
refusal."

"You ought to be glad she showed so much sense. It's all the better for
you. It is an additional help to you in your difficulties."

"I don't see how it helps me," said Jack, in a kind of growl. "I don't
see why she refused to run off with a fellow."

Now such was the perversity of Jack that he actually felt ill-natured
about this letter, although it was the very thing that he knew was best
for him. He was certainly relieved from one of his many difficulties,
but at the same time he was vexed and mortified at this rejection of
his proposal. And he dwelt upon his disappointment until at length he
brought himself to believe that "Number Three's" letter was something
like a personal slight, if not an insult.

He dropped in again toward evening.

"Macrorie," said he, "there's one place where I always find sympathy.
What do you say, old fellow, to going this evening to--

CHAPTER X.

"BERTON'S?--BEST PLACE IN THE TOWN.--GIRLS ALWAYS GLAD TO SEE A
FELLOW.--PLENTY OF CHAT, AND LOTS