“What do you mean by that?” “Why, the wedding, of course.” This inference received a show of confirmation afterward when Whiskers had a private interview with the managing editor, received an order on the cashier for all the money due him, and for a part of the managing editor's salary as a loan, and quietly said to the exchange editor that he would be away for a week or so. The editorial writer happened to be at the cashier's window when Whiskers had his order cashed. So when the editorial writer and the exchange editor compared notes a few minutes later, the latter complimented the former upon the correctness of his prediction that Whiskers' marriage was imminent. “He didn't invite us,” said the exchange editor, “but then I suppose the affair is to be a very quiet one, and we can't take offence at that. The old man's not a bad lot, by any means. Let's do something to please him and to flatter his bride. What do you say to raising a fund to buy them a present, in the name of the staff?” “I'm in for it,” said the editorial writer, producing a half-dollar. They canvassed the office and found everybody willing to contribute. The managing editor and the assistant editor-in-chief had gone home, but as they had shown kindness to Whiskers, and were, in fact, the only two men on the staff who knew anything about his private affairs, the exchange editor took his chances and put in a dollar for each of them. “And now, what shall we get--and where shall we send it?” said the exchange editor. “Not to his lodging-house, certainly. He'll probably be married at the residence of his bride's parents, as the notices say. We'd better get it quick, and rush it up there--wherever that is--somewhere up-town.” “But say,” interposed the city editor, who was present at this consultation, “maybe the ceremony has already come off. I saw the old man giving in a notice for advertisement across the counter at the business office an hour ago.” “Well, we may be able to learn from that where the bride lives, anyhow, and some one can go there and find out something definite about the happy pair's present and future whereabouts,” suggested the editorial writer. “That's so,” said the city editor. “The notice is in the composing-room by this time. I'll run up and find it.” The city editor left the editorial writer and the exchange editor alone together in the room, each sitting at their own desk. “What shall we get with this money?” queried the former, touching the bills and silver dumped upon his desk. “Something to please the woman. That'll give Whiskers the most pleasure. He evidently loves her deeply. These constant visits and gifts speak the greatest devotion.” “Of course, but what shall it be?” The two were battling with this question when the city editor returned. He came in and said quietly: “I found the notice. At least, I suppose this is it. What is the old man's full name?” “Horace W. Croydon.”