Welty Morne retires. The button is pressed again. Bate Yenger, assistant to the head bookkeeper, enters. He sits down, and looks indolent. He is a slim chap, with a fair face and black eyes, which show indications of night-hawking. "Bate," said the impressionless Monroe, "have you met the new secretary after work hours?" "Have not." "Know anything of his habits?" "Nothing." "Do you want to go on a lark tonight?" "Wouldn't mind it." "Then come to my place at nine p. m." Bate Yenger disappears. Monroe resumes his work. John returns the balance sheet, and hands it to Monroe. Monroe takes it, and scans it over. He sees some check-marks upon it. He folds it up, and puts it away. John remains a moment, as if he would like to speak to Monroe; but Monroe does not speak. John, then, goes out. * * * * * Promptly on the hour of nine p. m., Welty Morne and his boon companion, Bate Yenger, called at the apartments of Mr. Monroe at the St. Charles. That chunk of stiffness they found was ready, and together the three fared forth for a night of rounding. They called upon John Winthrope in his dingy quarters--a hideous contrast, they thought, to their own bright and luxurious living places. John was surprised, of course, to see them. Would he go out with them? Whither? For sight-seeing. John looked at his open books and papers on his little table, glanced down at himself, half inclined to accept; but very perplexed about it. He hesitated, and then asked them into his room. They entered, but did not sit down, as there was only one chair, which later was preempted by Welty. "Why don't you get decent quarters, Mr. Winthrope?" asked Welty, who was a lively and a very talkative fellow. "Cannot afford it," answered John. "Oh, bosh! You receive as much, and more, than many of the other young men in our office, and the way they fly one would think they were millionaires' sons," replied Welty. "I have a mother and father to assist," said John. "Won't you go tonight; we will pay the way," insisted the persuasive Welty. John still hesitated. He pondered a moment, and then replied: "No, thank you; I do not care to go." "Just tonight, Mr. Winthrope; three is a company, and four is a crowd," pursued Welty. "I thank you very much, Mr. Morne; but really, now, I do not care to go," persisted John. During this ineffectual conversation, Monroe stood leaning against the door as passive as a tombstone, with Bate Yenger leaning awkwardly against the wall near him, looking as vapid as a snake in winter time. Welty was disconcerted, disappointed, and aggravated. At John's last remark, he tried to hide his displeasure of it beneath a subtle smile that was a cross between sarcasm and disgust. John sat on the edge of his bed in a thoughtless mood, chewing the end of a tooth-pick. All four were silent for an uncomfortable period of time. Then Welty broke the spell. "So you won't join us?" he asked.