'You will have a secret to tell me then, Jessie.' 'Yes; I have thought a great deal lately of the letter I am to read for the first time on that day.' 'And you have never had the curiosity to open it, Jessie?' 'Oh yes, I have; but I have never opened it. I can be steadfast and faithful, Chris, as well as other people. Let us call in together and see Josey West.' 'Ah,' said that little woman, with a shrewd glance at us as we entered, so you two lovers have been making it up?' 'Don't be foolish, Josey,' exclaimed Jessie. 'How do you know we ever quarrelled?' I asked, in high spirits. 'How do I know that it will be night to-night, you meant to ask. Because I'm crooked, you think I can't see things perhaps. Have you seen Turk?' 'No,' I answered. 'He has gone to your house to tell you something. I dare say he is waiting there for you. Here is a rose for you.' I took and dropped it. 'Ah,' said the queer little creature, 'because a rose is pretty and fresh, and smells sweet, you think it can't prick you! There, get along with you, Mr. Wiseacre, and mind how you handle your roses for the future.' Turk had great news to communicate. His chance had come. By a fortunate combination of circumstances, an opening had occurred in a West-end theatre, and he was to make his first appearance there on the ensuing Saturday night in the new play that had been written for him. 'It's a fluke, Chris, my boy, a fluke,' he said, walking up and down the room excitedly; 'a sensation piece that the lessee thought would be a great draw is a most complete failure, as it deserves to be. He must either fill his house with paper or play to empty benches, so he withdraws his sensation piece, and gives me a show. We came out without much of a flourish; but we shall astonish them, Chris, my boy. The simple announcement of a new play and a new actor at that theatre is sufficient to draw all the critics, and we shall have a great house and a great triumph. You shall come, Chris, my boy; you shall come to witness the effect I shall produce. You shall go into the pit; here is an order for you. I don't ask you to take a big stick with you--I scorn to solicit undeserved applause; but at the same time every friend is a friend, and what's the use of a friend if he isn't friendly, eh, Chris, my boy?--a word to the wise; you understand; there's no need of anything more betwixt _us_. The piece will be wretchedly put upon the stage; there will be no scenery to speak of; the stock actors who play the other parts will be--well, no better than they should be, Chris, my boy, and, in addition, they will not be disposed to regard with favour a man who is an actor, Chris, my boy, and who comes to break down vicious monopolies and vicious systems. But what matter these small drawbacks to Turk West? They daunt not him! Resolved to conquer, he goes in and wins. Turk's sun will rise on Saturday night, Chris, my boy, and ever after it will blaze--that's the