“There now; don't talk. I know what you're goin' to say--could say it myself if I wanted to--and it's no use. Well then, here I am. You saw HER. Well, she's MY WIFE--we've been married three months. Yes, my WIFE; married three months ago. I'm here because I ran away from school--that is, I HAVEN'T BEEN THERE for the last three months. I came out with her last steamer; we went up to the Summit Hotel last night--where they didn't know me--until we could see how the land lay, before popping down on dad. I happened to learn that he was out to-night, and I brought her down here to have a talk. We can go back again before he comes, you know, unless”-- “But,” interrupted the girl, with sudden practicality, “you say you ain't been at Doctor Dawson's for three months! Why, only last week he drew on dad for two hundred and fifty dollars for your extras!” He glanced around him and then arranged his necktie in the glass above the mantel with a nervous laugh. “OH, THAT! I fixed that up, and got the money for it in New York to pay our passage with. It's all right, you know.” CHAPTER II. The girl stood looking at the ingenious forger with an odd, breathless smile. It was difficult to determine, however, if gratified curiosity were not its most dominant expression. “And you've got a wife--and THAT'S her?” she resumed. “Yes.” “Where did you first meet her? Who is she?” “She's an actress--mighty popular in 'Frisco--I mean New York. Lot o' chaps tried to get her--I cut 'em out. For all dad's trying to keep me at Dawson's--I ain't such a fool, eh?” Nevertheless, as he stood there stroking his fair mustache, his astuteness did not seem to impress his sister to enthusiastic assent. Yet she did not relax her breathless, inquisitive smile as she went on:-- “And what are you going to do about dad?” He turned upon her querulously. “Well, that's what I want to talk about.”