For the subsequent developments of the affair I expressly disclaim all responsibility. True, I was made an agent. But that was coercion, such coercion as the Bonnie Lassie practices on all of us. The scheme was hers and hers alone. If there is a weakness in the Bonnie Lassie's character, it is overfondness for the romantic and the dramatic. She loves to set the stage and move the puppets, and be the goddess from the machine generally. Miss Ethel Bennington, cast for the leading part, accepted it all implicitly, for in the strange environment of Our Square she was uncertain and self-distrustful, and she readily fell in with the dramatist's principal theme; to wit, that she had treated the Little Red Doctor very ill, and said wounding things hard to be forgiven by a high-spirited, sensitive, and red-headed lover; that any basis of pardon and understanding would be difficult and painful to arrive at, but that if he found her in straits and needing him, then the truth would come out and she would know at once whether he still cared for her or not, a point upon which my brown-and-gold fairy had her dismal doubts, it seems. Therefore she would please buy herself a working outfit and take a job with--well--with Dead-Men's-Shoes. Just the thing! Dead-Men's-Shoes, knowing so much of the matter, would require little explanation. The labor, sorting over and classifying his residuary apparel, would be not too violent; and the Little Red Doctor passed by the door daily on his way to the top floor to visit little Fannie McKay who had the rickets. It was only a question of time when he would find the fairy there toiling in poverty. Such was the setting devised by the Bonnie Lassie to bring those two together. For the rest, let Fate take its course. Fate did. For their own private reasons, or perhaps in sheer derision of the human dramatist's puny efforts, the High Gods of Drama took a hand in the affair. They smote the Little Red Doctor, if not exactly hip and thigh, at least, tooth and jaw; so that he was incapacitated for any sort of decent, peaceable human association. They gave him an abominable toothache. The Bonnie Lassie came across Our Square to apprise me of the fact, with dismay in her face. “What's a toothache,” I said, “in such circumstances!” The Bonnie Lassie looked at me scornfully. “Men have no sense,” she sighed. “Do you think I'm going to have their meeting spoiled by a wretched thing like that, after all these years? Besides, he's all swollen on one side.” “I see. You don't wish his classic beauty impaired on this occasion.” “Don't be disagreeable. And do be good. Go to the Little Red Doctor and tell him he must have it fixed.” I went to the Little Red Doctor and told him that very thing. To this day I believe that my age alone saved me from a murderous assault. “Have it fixed?” howled the Little Red Doctor. “Don't you suppose I want to have it fixed? Don't be an imbecile, dominie.”