“Well, then when, Betty?” “Sunday?” asked the whisper. “Oh!” he protested. “Two days!” “Good-night, Phil!” He sighed deeply. “Good-night, Betty.” Then, “Betty!” “Yes?” “I love you, Betty!” There was silence in Heaven for a moment. Then a railing creaked, and, “Phil!” “What, Betty?” “I’m throwing you one!” “Betty!” “Good-night, Phil!” “Good-night, Betty! God bless you, dear, _dear_ Betty!” Outside on the steps a snowflake settled softly on Phillip’s mouth. He gasped and plunged exultantly into the storm. It was glorious weather! CHAPTER XXIII It is sometimes rather interesting, if quite profitless, to study the genealogy of an event, tracing its descent back from one cause to another until we have found, for example, that the failure of the grocer to bring a can of baking powder on Thursday afternoon is responsible for the loss to us of $500 on Friday morning, tracing the descent in this case through a late breakfast, a missed train, a street-car blockade and a tardy arrival at our office. Of course we have not here exhausted the possibilities of this process, for we might easily go further back and show that the forgetfulness of the grocer was due to mental commotion brought about by the extreme illness of his six-months’ old son and heir, produced, in turn, by the administration of laudanum in mistake for ipecac by his mother. In fact, the possibilities only end with the original protoplasm; which really simplifies matters a great deal to the student of this line of research, since it is only necessary to say “I lost $500 because of the original protoplasm; deuce take the protoplasm!” and give no attention to the intermediate events. But all this is entirely beside the story, and was only suggested by the ease with which it is possible to trace the lineage of the event which forms a conclusion of this tale. For it is quite apparent that had Sir Henry Irving not played an engagement at the Hollis Street Theatre in March of that year the final chapter of this story would have been quite different from what it is. Hence, if the reader finds fault with the conclusion――and I admit that it might be better――he may censure Sir Henry――unless he prefers to go back to the original protoplasm. I, as a mere chronicler, disclaim all blame.