"Why, don't you remember on her birthday, when I gave her back the locket?" "I remember the occasion; but I had precious little chance to see how her eyes looked, for you stood so close to her that nobody else could catch a glimpse. I did see something, though." "What?" "I saw _you_, and any one more palpably sentimental I never did see." "Well, what of it? It isn't a crime, I suppose--" "That depends," Flint answered dryly. Brady shook off his hand. "What do you mean by that?" he asked angrily. "I mean," said Flint, folding his arms and looking at his friend steadily, "that you have come to the cross-roads. You cannot go on as you are. You must either give up hanging about Nora Costello, or you must make up your mind to marry her." "And why not, pray, if I could induce her to accept me?" "Great Heavens!" cried Flint; "has it gone so far as that?" "Yes, it has," answered Brady, as defiantly as though Flint had represented his whole family circle; "and if she will marry me I shall be a proud and happy man." "And your relatives,--the Bradfords and Standishes and all?" "Plymouth Rock may fall on them for all I care," exclaimed Brady. "And how about the tambourines and torches?" Brady colored a little, but he stood his ground manfully. "I shall never presume to dictate," he answered. "I will go my way and she shall go hers; and if I can lend a helping hand to any of the poor wretches she is trying to save, I shall do it, if I have to take off my kid gloves and get down into the gutter, as many a better man has done before me." "Well," answered Flint, "if that is the way you take it I have nothing more to say. But if you don't object I would like to be present when you announce the engagement to Miss Standish." "Miss Standish be hanged!" cried Brady. "It is a question of Miss Costello, I tell you. My only anxiety lies right there. If you had ever been in love you would know how it feels." "I can imagine," Flint answered, taking up his pipe and looking scrutinizingly into the bowl; "I have read about it in books. But come! if we are going to the rally we must be about it. It is nearly eight by my watch. How long is the confounded thing--excuse me--I mean the gospel gathering?" "If you are going to make fun of it, Flint, you would better stay at home," said Brady, stiffly. "No, no, forgive me, Brady! I meant nothing of the kind; it is my accursed habit of joking when I am in earnest, and being so solemn when I try to be funny that I am never in harmony with the occasion. Go on; I will close the door. I ought not to go, for I half expect Brooke of the Magazine. No matter; I will leave word for him." As they passed the janitor, Flint said, "I shall be back by ten. If any one comes to see me you have the key of my rooms, and let any visitor come in and wait." "All right, sir!" "And see that the fire is kept up." "Yes, sir."