"How's your liver, Charlie?" inquired the genial editor. This amiable question was habitual with Mr. Pollock. He varied it a little when the object of his polite concern happened to be of the opposite sex; then he gallantly substituted the word "appetite." It was never necessary to reply to Mr. Pollock's question. In fact, he always seemed a little surprised when any one did reply, quite as if he had missed a portion of the conversation and was trying in a bewildered sort of way to get the hang of it again. "Same as it was yesterday," said Charlie. "I don't want any soup, Maggie. Yes, I know it's bean soup, but I don't want it, just the same." "Going on a hunger strike, Charlie?" inquired Doc Simpson. "Sh! He's reducing," scolded Flora Grady. "What's on your mind, Charlie?" asked Courtney. Charlie swallowed hard. He made a determined effort and succeeded in recovering some of his old-time sprightliness. "Nothing, now that I've got my hat off." "Have you heard the latest news, Charlie?" inquired Mrs. Pollock, a thrill of excitement in her voice. He started, and looked up quickly. "There's been so blamed much news lately," he muttered, "I can't keep track of it." "Well, this is the greatest piece of news we've had in ages," said the poetess. "Wedding bells are to ring in our midst. Somebody you know very well is going to be married." Mr. Webster's heart went to his boots. He stared open-mouthed at the speaker. "Oh, my Lord!" he almost groaned. "Don't tell me she has promised to marry--" He broke off to glare venomously at Thane. "Don't blame me for it, Charlie," exclaimed the latter. "I am as innocent as an unborn babe. Charge it to woman's wiles." He laughed boisterously, unnaturally. Mr. Pollock spoke. "The next issue of the Sun will contain the formal announcement of the engagement of the most popular and beloved young lady in Windomville. No doubt it will be old news by that time,--next Thursday,--but publication in the press gives it the importance of officialty." "We may congratulate ourselves, however, that we are not to lose her," said Mrs. Pollock. "She is to remain in--" "Whe-when is it to take place?" groaned Charlie, moisture starting out on his brow. "That," began Mr. Pollock, "is a matter which cannot be definitely announced at present, owing to certain family--er--ah--conditions. In addition to this, I may say that there is also the children to consider, as well as the township trustee and, to an extent, the taxpayer. The--" "All I've got to say," grated Charlie, "is that the police ought to be consulted, first of all." "The police!" exclaimed Angie Miller. "The--the what?" gasped Furman Hatch, lifting his head suddenly. He was very red in the face. "I'd like to know what the devil the police have to do with it?" Charlie took a look at Angie Miller's face, and then the truth dawned upon him. He sank back in his chair so suddenly that the legs gave forth an ominous crack.