"Brace up, Palmer!" said Robert in a cheery voice. "She is not worthy of you. You are lucky to have found her out so soon." "Perhaps you are right," said Palmer in a mournful voice. "But how could she be so false, so cruel?" "You had not known her long?" "No." "And you will soon forget her, now that you know how false she is." "I don't know, Robert," said the poor fellow sadly. "I don't think I shall ever get over it." "Oh, yes, you will. You will meet someone else, who will appreciate your devotion." They heard the window opening again, and fearing a second deluge, drew quickly away. It was just in time, for the pitcher was again emptied, but this time the water only wet the sidewalk. "Surely you can't love her after that," said Robert. "No. She is not what my fancy painted her. What can I do?" "You had better let the matter drop." "No. I will go home and write her a reproachful letter. I will make her ashamed of herself." "Better not. She will only laugh at it." "But it will make me feel better. I--would you mind going into the Sherman House with me while I write the letter?" "Better wait till to-morrow." "No, it will ease my breaking heart if I write to her to-night." Sympathizing with his friend, Robert made no further opposition, and Palmer stepped into the Sherman House, procured a sheet of paper, and wrote thus: "Perfidious Girl: "How could you find it in your heart to treat so cruelly one who loves you so wildly? You led me to think that you returned my love, at any rate that you felt an interest in me. I have just returned from the house in Lemore street. I will not refer to the way you received me. It was cruel and unwomanly. I feel that my heart has received a wound from which it will never recover. Yet, if you acted in a thoughtless manner, and did not mean to wound me, I am ready to forgive and forget all. Once more I will come to your side, and renew my vows of devotion. I put my business address below, and shall be most glad to hear from you. "Your faithful friend, "Livingston Palmer." "What do you think of that, Robert?" asked Palmer, handing the boy the letter to read. "I wouldn't have said anything about going back to her, if I had been you." "But perhaps she only meant it in fun. Girls sometimes act that way." "Not if they love a person." "But if there is any chance of getting in with her again, I don't want to lose it." "Well, Mr. Palmer, if you are satisfied with the letter, you had better mail it." "I'll get a stamp and mail it to-night." "Now I think we had better go home and go to bed." "I shall not sleep to-night, Robert," said Palmer mournfully. "My poor heart is too sore;" and he placed his hand on the place where he supposed his heart to be. "I am glad I am not old enough to have any heart troubles." "Yes, you are fortunate. But your time will come."