"Perhaps it's a satisfaction," interrupted Billy, "a satisfaction to discover yourself at last. Self-knowledge is the summit of all wisdom." "Ah, Billy Little, don't torture me; I am suffering enough as it is." Billy did not answer, but took Dic's hand and held it in his warm clasp for a little time as they walked in silence along the street. The two disconsolate lovers who had come a-kidnapping remained over night in Indianapolis, and after breakfast Billy suggested that they discuss the situation in detail. "Have you thought of any plan whereby you may communicate with Rita?" he asked. "No," answered Dic. "Do you know any of her girl friends?" "The very thing!" exclaimed Dic, joyous as possible under the circumstances. "I'll see Miss Tousy, and she will help us, I'm sure." "Is she sentimentally inclined?" queried Billy. "I don't know." "Is her face round or oval?" "Oval," replied Dic, in some perplexity. "Long oval?" "Rather." "Good!" exclaimed Billy. "Does she talk much or little?" "Little, save at times." "And her voice?" "Low and soft." "Better and better," said Billy. "What does she read?" "She loves Shakespeare and Shelley." "Go to her at once," cried Billy, joyfully. "I'll stake my life she'll help. Show me a long oval face, a soft voice speaking little, and a lover of poetry, and I'll show you the right sort of heart. But we must begin at once. Buy a new stock, Dic, and have your shoes polished. Get a good pair of gloves, and, if you think you can handle it properly, a stick. Fine feathers go farther in making fine birds than wise men suppose. Too much wisdom often blinds a man to small truths that are patent to a fool. I wish you were small enough to wear my coat." Dic congratulated himself upon his bulk, but he took Billy's advice regarding the gloves and stock. Billy was a relic of the days of the grand beaux, when garments, if they did not make the man, at least could mar the gentleman, and held his faith in the omnipotence of dress, as a heritage from his youth--that youth which was almost of another world. Dic was one of the few men whose splendor of person did not require the adornments of dress. All women looked upon his redolence of life and strength with pleasure, and soon learned to respect his straightforward, fearless honesty. Miss Tousy had noted Dic's qualities on previous occasions, and valued him accordingly. She was also interested in Rita, who was her protégée; and she was graciousness itself to Dic that day as she asked him, "What good fortune brings you?" "It is bad fortune brings me, I am sorry to say," returned Dic. "Yesterday was the unluckiest day of my life, and I have come to you for help." Miss Tousy's kind heart responded, as Billy Little had predicted. "Then your ill luck is my good fortune. In what way can I help you? I give you _carte blanche_; ask what you will." "I will not hold you to your offer until I tell you what I want. Then you may refuse if you feel that--"