A short, erect, trimly built man with a finely chiseled face and a brown skin that seemed to breathe of pine woods and great wide, sunlit rivers grasped Darley's hand as he stepped to the platform. “Well, old man!” exclaimed the brown man, cheerily. “Awfully glad you've come! Come this way! Here we are, Joseph! Step in!” “By Jove! it _is_ wintry here, isn't it?” said Darley, as he slid under the buffalo robes. “What a peerless night!” After supper the two men made themselves thoroughly comfortable in great leather chairs before Leonard's promised fire, and smoked and chatted. “You look just the same, old boy,” said Leonard, scanning Darley carefully. “But the hair is a little thin in front there, and I think I see the growing spot of baldness, as Ike Marvel has it. Did you ever read that great book of his, 'A Bachelor's Reveries?' No? Well, you should. I find it sweetest company. Yes, you are the same old sobersides--a great deal deeper than you look, as the little boy said when he fell into the well. And not married yet, eh?” “Who, the little boy?” “No; you, you rogue! I should have thought you would have gone off long ago.” “Why?” “A hard question to answer. Are we not always in a condition of mild wonder that our friends have not gone over to the married ranks, when we ourselves have not? However, from floating gossip--that tongue's flotsam--I have heard that you meditate going over.” “Eh?” said Darley, pricking up his ears. “Why,” answered Leonard, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, “Beau Brummel cannot pay court to a beauty without the world knowing it! I, even I, have heard of Miss Bella Charteris. She is not the sort of girl, if I may make so bold, that I would have imagined you pinning yourself to. I should have thought some quiet, sober, angelic little woman like----” “Like who?” “Well, I was going to say like her sister,” said Leonard softly, bending his head over his pipe as he slowly refilled it. “But you do not know her sister, I think.” “Why, I did not even know Miss Charteris had a sister!” exclaimed Dar-ley in amazement. “No? Why, Miss Florence Charteris lives here--in Dutton!” “Miss Charteris mentioned an aunt, and hinted at some one else whom she said I would see, now that I think of it.” “Irony, I suppose,” said Leonard quietly, smiling a queer little smile. “Yes, Miss Charteris the second lives in Dutton: a quaint, gray little life, good, patient, and God-like. She is the sweet angel of Dutton. But tell me, Percy, are you in love with your Miss Charteris?” “I am afraid she is not my Miss Charteris,” said Darley, smiling. “And to be candid with you, Jack, I am not in love with her--for which, perhaps, I should be thankful. However, if Miss Charteris _does_ accept me, which I think is highly improbable, I shall marry her for money.”