"No, no, dear John," cried his wife. "You, too, might disappear forever, and then forget to come back." So John Smith did not go, and together they sat by the bedside of little Pansy (for that was Pansy's name). After a little Pansy seemed to grow worse, and John Smith again attempted to go for medicine, but his wife would not let him. Suddenly the door opened, and an old man, stooped and bent, with long white hair, entered the room. "Hello, here is grandpa," said Pansy. She had recognized him before any of the others. The old man drew a bottle of medicine from his pocket and gave Pansy a spoonful. She got well immediately. "I was a little late," said John Smothers, "as I waited for a street car." [Illustration: Cartoon by O. Henry] FICKLE FORTUNE OR HOW GLADYS HUSTLED [From _The Rolling Stone_.] "Press me no more Mr. Snooper," said Gladys Vavasour-Smith. "I can never be yours." "You have led me to believe different, Gladys," said Bertram D. Snooper. The setting sun was flooding with golden light the oriel windows of a magnificent mansion situated in one of the most aristocratic streets west of the brick yard. Bertram D. Snooper, a poor but ambitious and talented young lawyer, had just lost his first suit. He had dared to aspire to the hand of Gladys Vavasour-Smith, the beautiful and talented daughter of one of the oldest and proudest families in the county. The bluest blood flowed in her veins. Her grandfather had sawed wood for the Hornsbys and an aunt on her mother's side had married a man who had been kicked by General Lee's mule. The lines about Bertram D. Snooper's hands and mouth were drawn tighter as he paced to and fro, waiting for a reply to the question he intended to ask Gladys as soon as he thought of one. At last an idea occurred to him. "Why will you not marry me?" he asked in an inaudible tone. "Because," said Gladys firmly, speaking easily with great difficulty, "the progression and enlightenment that the woman of to-day possesses demand that the man shall bring to the marriage altar a heart and body as free from the debasing and hereditary iniquities that now no longer exist except in the chimerical imagination of enslaved custom." "It is as I expected," said Bertram, wiping his heated brow on the window curtain. "You have been reading books." "Besides that," continued Gladys, ignoring the deadly charge, "you have no money." The blood of the Snoopers rose hastily and mantled the cheek of Bertram D. He put on his coat and moved proudly to the door. "Stay here till I return," he said, "I will be back in fifteen years." When he had finished speaking he ceased and left the room. When he had gone, Gladys felt an uncontrollable yearning take possession of her. She said slowly, rather to herself than for publication, "I wonder if there was any of that cold cabbage left from dinner." She then left the room.