"And you might say also," she continued, "that during your absence with 'Marjorie,' your friend 'Tom's' sister was taking lessons in typewriting and became quite proficient in that art. And that she told you, whenever you wanted to take another journey, and needed assistance in literary work, she would apply for the position rather than have you made the victim of any designing creature of her sex." "Statia!" I cried, "you have entirely forgiven me?" "Entirely," she said. "I couldn't wish you any greater punishment than you have endured." A month passed and one day a box addressed to me was brought to my door by an expressman, with the charges prepaid from some point beyond the Rockies. Wonderingly I saw it opened and then, at the first glance into the interior, I told the boy who plied the hammer that I would unpack it myself. It contained the entire outfit that "Marjorie" had bought with my money--the jewelry included. There were the hats which had adorned her fair head; the gowns that had been draped around her graceful body; the shoes, the hosiery, the lingerie--everything! I took them out slowly, one by one. I pressed them to my lips, letting teardrops fall on each separate article. I could only think of what I had lost--of what, in truth, I had never gained. I put the articles away, finally, locking them securely from all prying eyes. This little note was found in the box, pinned to a scarf: My Dear Friend:--Although you told me you did not want to take your things back, I shall feel better to send them to you. It leaves me in your debt only for the other expenses of my voyage, and perhaps the typewriting I did will in some measure compensate for that. Long ago you must have recovered from the tender sentiment with which you used to insist I inspired you, and I hope have also learned to think of me with less aversion than you felt at the last. If I might be permitted to give advice it would be offer your hand and heart to 'Statia Barton.' You need a wife; I am sure, she would make an excellent one. Farewell; this time, forever! M.M. Recovered from my love for you? Not yet, Marjorie, not yet. That will come in time, I trust, but it is still too soon. Offer my hand to Statia? I would not insult that noble girl again with such a worthless gift. As for my heart, it has not come back to me, and I do not know as it ever will. * * * * * "Well," said Mr. Cook, the senior partner of the Dillingham Company, as I signed the contract which gave him the right to publish this "novel,"--"you've had what the doctor prescribed, at least." "A New Sensation," he explained, as I looked at him inquiringly. THE END. SPECIAL NOTE: If this should meet the eyes of Mr. Mathew Howes of Binghamton, or Miss Howes, they are hereby informed that a diamond bracelet is awaiting its owner at The Lambs Club. D.C. THE POPULAR NOVELS OF MAY AGNES FLEMING