But somehow, although Sam and the other fellows--we got together a lot of them--toasted us as the Valbella Brothers, and commended forever our fraternal alliance, we didn't feel like brothers. We had been the best of friends, but that little blubbering rascal Jack Hobbs had planted something in our hearts that grew like Jonah's gourd. Which was it, Ted or Ned, that Jenny Hobbs had fainted about when we went through the roof hanging on to each other by our teeth, our legs, and everything except our hands, and doing the double-trapeze act like daisies? There was the trouble. Was it Ted or was it Ned? I had had a soft place for Jenny in my heart for a considerable time, but I had determined to wait until I found out whether I had any chance or not, and then Ted--Valbella I'll him for want of something better--had come along, and seemed to like her too. But I had not paid much attention to it until that night. Ted was good-looking--I almost groaned when I saw how good-looking he was--and a sober, honest, industrious fellow to boot. Somehow Sam and the other fellows seemed to realize that we weren't quite so brotherly as we had been, and consequently they enlarged upon our fraternal feelings, and represented us as being much more deeply attached to each other than we ever could have been; but at last it was all over, and we started to walk home--we had lodgings together. As we came out into the quiet moonlit streets I noticed Ted seemed to expect me to speak. "Now see here," said I, turning to him; "you know what that little rascal said to-night?" "Yes, I know," said Ted doggedly; "and I know what Jenny Hobbs said too." "It's more than anybody else does," said I, feeling as if I wanted to choke him. "We'd better not discuss that now," said I, presently; "we've both had some champagne, and I want to think things over, and so do you, perhaps; so we'll let it rest until to-morrow." "Just as you like," said Ted sulkily.