seem softer and weaker, more accessible. And such weeping as he had seen

before had been so much a matter of damp white faces, red noses, and

hair coming out of curl. Your draper's assistant becomes something of a

judge of weeping, because weeping is the custom of all Young Ladies in

Business, when for any reason their services are dispensed with. She

could weep--and (by Gosh!) she could smile. HE knew that, and reverting

to acting abruptly, he smiled confidentially at the puckered pallor of

the moon.

It is difficult to say how long Mr. Hoopdriver's pensiveness lasted.

It seemed a long time before his thoughts of action returned. Then he

remembered he was a 'watcher'; that to-morrow he must be busy. It would

be in character to make notes, and he pulled out his little note-book.

With that in hand he fell a-thinking again. Would that chap tell her the

'tecks were after them? If so, would she be as anxious to get away as HE

was? He must be on the alert. If possible he must speak to her. Just

a significant word, "Your friend--trust me!"--It occurred to him that

to-morrow these fugitives might rise early to escape. At that he thought

of the time and found it was half-past eleven. "Lord!" said he, "I must

see that I wake." He yawned and rose. The blind was up, and he pulled

back the little chintz curtains to let the sunlight strike across to

the bed, hung his watch within good view of his pillow, on a nail that

supported a kettle-holder, and sat down on his bed to undress. He lay

awake for a little while thinking of the wonderful possibilities of the

morrow, and thence he passed gloriously into the wonderland of dreams.

The Wheels of Chance