On the succeeding morning it seemed to the foreman of the shipping department of the publishers that his new marker did not manifest the same enthusiasm for his work which had distinguished his earlier efforts.

It looked to him as if Dennis handled his paint-brush with the mien of one who considered his occupation a diversion rather than a means of livelihood.

As the day advanced and Dennis located an "e" in the spot designed for an "i," and concluded an address with Detroit in place of Duluth, the foreman was more than ever convinced that something was wrong, and asked the young man if he was not feeling well.

"Sure!" exclaimed Dennis, a degree too cheerily, the foreman thought, in view of his delinquencies with the brush, "sure; but why do you ask?"

"Well," returned the foreman, "iv'ry thing's wid you this mornin' but yure head," and he pointed out several blunders which Dennis had made.

"Sure, an' I'm sorry for that," he said with blushing contriteness; "it will not happen again."

The foreman, however, had told the truth only in part, for Dennis had left not only his head behind him, but a considerable portion of his heart.

All day he continued to think about the sweet-faced woman who had listened with such gratifying attention to the story, and more than once, in his agreeable preoccupation, had he noted an impulse to substitute the address she had provided for the one demanded by the shipping invoices.

"To-night at eight," he repeated to himself over and over, like the refrain of a popular ballad, invariably concluding, by way of chorus: "Oh, I'll be there; oh, I'll be there."

Therefore, as soon as his day's duties were over, Dennis speeded to Baxter Street in search of Dickey Series C.

After a foray in a half dozen separate establishments, where neckties, collars and all the accessories were offered in place of what he required, he succeeded at last in securing the missing series.

At The Stag he was so full of emotion and anticipation that there was little room for such a substantial consideration as supper, so, dismissing that he proceeded to his room, and after indulging in the luxury of one of the few genuine shirts which remained to him, he anticipated his appointment a half hour by boarding the elevated, which carried him shortly to a point within three blocks of his destination.

In order that he might not appear too anxious or come into a premature collision with social usage, Dennis obliged himself to walk slowly in the vicinity indicated by the address.

The general aspect of his immediate surroundings looked promising and offered a comfortable assurance that his visit would not introduce him to a disappointment.

At last, from the opposite side of the street, he was able to measure, with an approving glance, a prepossessing dwelling of four stories and a mansard.

The front was of brown stone and differed but little from its neighbors, but to Dennis it seemed that it possessed an identity which was largely the recollection of the lingering presence of its owner.

Directly alongside, a large conservatory extended rearward an indefinite length.

The glittering front was picturesque with clusters of ingeniously disposed electric lights within, which revealed to advantage a mass of varied plants and flowers in prosperous abundance.

Charmed by the glow and color, and stimulated by the dancing lights, Dennis presented himself "on the minute" before the door of the adjacent dwelling.

In response to his ring, a trim, bright-eyed maid appeared, who, accepting his name in place of his card with an amiable lack of surprise, instructed him to enter, which he did, with alert, observing eyes.

Although Dennis was not much of a judge of the elaborate surroundings in which he found himself, he figured it out that the business of a florist must be a profitable one, and speculated, with wondering calculation, upon the length of time and the degree of application demanded to enable him to possess similar advantages.

Acting upon the parting instructions of the widow, Dennis had already canvassed his eligible points and was prepared to give an account of himself that was little short of eulogy.

At this juncture in his reflections the hangings at the parlor entrance parted with a musical swish that was suggestive of feminine approach, and the widow advanced into the room, with one slender hand extended in cordial informality.

If this woman had seemed charming to him in the park, she was certainly bewitching now.

The street costume in which she had first appeared was replaced by a gown of some clinging white fabric, which shimmered the light with a thousand blending radiations and fitted to every movement and contour like an embrace conscious of its privileges.

A delicate collar of filmy lace surrounded her neck like the intricate etchings of frost upon frost, and this was fastened with a solitary pearl as chaste as the exquisite skin with which it managed to offer only the faintest contrast.

Her head, crowned with a wavy nimbus of Titian auburn, was superbly set upon her fine, symmetrical shoulders.

As she flashed upon the vision of this palpitating young man through the parting curtains, like a dramatic climax or the goddess of reward, or denunciation, she seemed to Dennis, whose mythology was centralized from that moment, like another Aphrodite churned into lovely being by the sea.

At the entrance of this beautiful woman Dennis had risen to his feet, and stood for a moment, offering, with his helpless silence, a compliment whose genuineness she thoroughly enjoyed.

When at last his tongue resumed its function, Dennis, like many another with even more self-possession and experience, uttered just the words which were intended for concealment, as he stammered:

"An' it's no wonder, at all, at all."

The exclamation, however, was barely above a whisper, and it was only by following the motion of his lips and a shrewd intuition as to the rest which enabled the widow to realize what he had uttered, as she asked, smiling to note that the young man had neglected to release her hand:

"And what is it that is no wonder?"

At this question, Dennis, deserted for the moment by his customary adroitness, was unable to do anything else than respond, without evasion or subterfuge:

"Well, I was thinkin' it's no wonder the manager wanted to go into the business."

"Ah!" laughed the widow with genuine enjoyment and a sensible realization of the spirit which urged his exclamation and its explanation, "that is Irish, I am sure"; and with that Dennis began to feel more at home, although still subdued by the accumulation of practical beatitudes.

"Tell me," he said, when each was agreeably established, Dennis upon a comfortable divan and his listener in a chair which supplied its fascinating occupant with a sort of solicitous support, which Dennis assured himself would be poetry realized if he could be permitted to share, "tell me, shall I recite my abilities first or read the story?"

"Suppose," suggested his hearer, "we hear the story first and reserve your catalogue as a climax, like the dessert after the banquet."

"All right!" assented Dennis, as he produced a circular bundle, from which he extracted his absurd medium.

"One moment," suggested his hearer, as she arranged an electric cluster in a manner that enabled her to witness every alternation of expression in that mobile countenance--"now."

Withdrawing his gaze from the sweet face of his auditor with a reluctance sufficiently marked to advance him several leagues further in her good graces, Dennis, directing his attention to the closely-printed dickey, began, with racy Irish emphasis, as follows:

"With a bound the prince swept aside the curtains and reached his room.

"Advancing to the gong, which was suspended by silken cords near the divan, he struck it sharply several times.

"There was no response.

"He repeated his summons with the added vigor of his irritation at the delay.

"Only the sullen echo answered.

"With impatient incredulity the prince was about to hasten to the ante-room in which his faithful Sepoy had always been found, when a strange trembling seized his limbs.

"A confusion obscured his mind; his sight grew dim.