“Wait till I eat the sugar out of my cup,” complained Wilbur. “Tell me,” he added, scraping vigorously at the bottom of the cup with the inadequate spoon; “tell me, you're going to the hoe-down to-night?” “If you mean the Assembly, yes, I am.” “Will you give me the first and last?” “I'll give you the first, and you can ask for the last then.” “Let's put it down; I know you'll forget it.” Wilbur drew a couple of cards from his case. “Programmes are not good form any more,” said Miss Herrick. “Forgetting a dance is worse.” He made out the cards, writing on the one he kept for himself, “First waltz--Jo.” “I must go back now,” said Miss Herrick, getting up. “In that case I shall run--I'm afraid of girls.” “It's a pity about you.” “I am; one girl, I don't say, but girl in the aggregate like this,” and he pointed his chin toward the thronged parlors. “It un-mans me.” “Good-by, then.” “Good-by, until to-night, about--?” “About nine.” “About nine, then.” Ross Wilbur made his adieu to Mrs. Herrick and the girls who were receiving, and took himself away. As he came out of the house and stood for a moment on the steps, settling his hat gingerly upon his hair so as not to disturb the parting, he was not by any means an ill-looking chap. His good height was helped out by his long coat and his high silk hat, and there was plenty of jaw in the lower part of his face. Nor was his tailor altogether answerable for his shoulders. Three years before this time Ross Wilbur had pulled at No. 5 in his varsity boat in an Eastern college that was not accustomed to athletic discomfiture. “I wonder what I'm going to do with myself until supper time,” he muttered, as he came down the steps, feeling for the middle of his stick. He found no immediate answer to his question. But the afternoon was fine, and he set off to walk in the direction of the town, with a half-formed idea of looking in at his club. At his club he found a letter in his box from his particular chum, who had been spending the month shooting elk in Oregon. “Dear Old Man,” it said, “will be back on the afternoon you receive this. Will hit the town on the three o'clock boat. Get seats for the best show going--my treat--and arrange to assimilate nutriment at the Poodle Dog--also mine. I've got miles of talk in me that I've got to reel off before midnight. Yours. “JERRY.” “I've got a stand of horns for you, Ross, that are Glory Hallelujah.” “Well, I can't go,” murmured Wilbur, as he remembered the Assembly that was to come off that night and his engaged dance with Jo Herrick. He decided that it would be best to meet Jerry as he came off the boat and tell him how matters stood. Then he resolved, since no one that he knew was in the club, and the instalment of the Paris weeklies had not arrived, that it would be amusing to go down to the water-front and loaf among the shipping until it was time for Jerry's boat.