He got in a taxi and gave directions. In front of Mr. Fabian's house, he paid the driver and went up the steps. After he had rung the bell, he felt in his pocket to make sure the ring-box was there. This was about the twentieth time he had assured himself. The maid opened the door, and looked sorry for him. "Miss Polly? Are the ladies in?" stammered Tom. "No'm--no-sir, I mean," returned the maid, confused at his certainty of finding them at home. "They went out an hour ago, after tryin' to get you on the 'phone. They says they won't be back till after midnight, sir." "Did they say where they were going?" asked Tom. "No'm--No-sir! But I hear'n Miss Polly talk to someone on the 'phone and she says: 'Oh how lovely! We'll all go with you. And we'll meet you there for dinner,'" repeated the maid. "You see, I was openin' th' door to take more presents for the young ladies, so I hear'n that much of the talk from the table 'phone in the back hall." Tom thanked her with a sinking heart, and turned away. Once more his fingers mechanically felt for the ring box but he experienced no thrill this time, when he found it was safe. He walked slowly cross-town and recklessly passed over Broadway with its traffic in full swing, looking neither to the right nor to the left. The officer shouted to rouse him from his apathy, but it failed to work. He reached the park and found a bench. There he sat down without looking at the seat. A frantic boy ran over and yelled: "Get up, mister! Get up--you'se sittin' on my Chrismus candy!" Tom got up as mechanically as an automaton, but a few of the gummy candies clung to his coat-tails, while the boy fearful of losing such treasure ran after the man to pick off the sticky sweets. When he found another bench that was clear, and no boys nearby to worry his soul, Tom sat down and sulked. Having practised so faithfully all that day, in adding the finishing touches of grace to his lesson of proposing, it was a bitter dose to find all his work was wasted. Polly had joyfully accepted someone else's invitation to go away and have a good time, leaving him alone and heart-broken. Sleet and drizzle began falling, and Tom was soon soaked through, but he was heedless of clinging clothes and wet shoes. After an hour of self-pity, he got up and started down the drive. By this time he was almost frozen, but he congratulated himself on the fact that he might have pneumonia and die. Then Polly might feel sorry for her coldness! Following the suggestion this idea presented, Tom wilfully waded through the slush in the gutters, and thoroughly drenched his patent-leather shoes in crossing the streets, until his feet were not only wet but freezing inside the shoes. He found a cheap restaurant where the show-windows displayed baskets of artificial fruit; and as a center-piece of this decoration, there was a great block of ice holding up a dressed goose, with red holly twined about it.