A shrill voice from the crowd at this point offered the constable all cinematograph rights if he would allow the contest to proceed. 'And you pop off, too, all of you,' continued Mr Bryce. 'Blest if I know what kids are coming to nowadays. And as for you,' he said, addressing Mr Shute, 'all you've got to do is to keep that face of yours closed. That's what you've got to do. I've got my eye on you, mind, and if I catch you a-follerin' of him'--he jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Arthur's departing figure--'I'll pinch you. Sure as you're alive.' He paused. 'I'd have done it already,' he added, pensively, 'if it wasn't me birthday.' * * * * * Arthur Welsh turned sharply. For some time he had been dimly aware that somebody was calling his name. 'Oh, Arthur!' She was breathing quickly. He could see the tears in her eyes. 'I've been running. You walked so fast.' He stared down at her gloomily. 'Go away,' he said. 'I've done with you.' She clutched at his coat. 'Arthur, listen--listen! It's all a mistake. I thought you--you didn't care for me any more, and I was miserable, and I wrote to the paper and asked what should I do, and they said I ought to test you and try and make you jealous, and that that would relieve my apprehensions. And I hated it, but I did it, and you didn't seem to care till now. And you know that there's nobody but you.' 'You--The paper? What?' he stammered. 'Yes, yes, yes. I wrote to _Fireside Chat_, and Dr Cupid said that when jealousy flew out of the window indifference came in at the door, and that I must exhibit pleasure in the society of other gentlemen and mark your demeanour. So I--Oh!' Arthur, luckier than Mr Shute, was not hampered by a too small silk hat. It was a few moments later, as they moved slowly towards the Flip-Flap--which had seemed to both of them a fitting climax for the evening's emotions--that Arthur, fumbling in his waist-coat pocket, produced a small slip of paper. 'What's that?' Maud asked. 'Read it,' said Arthur. 'It's from _Home Moments_, in answer to a letter I sent them. And,' he added with heat, 'I'd like to have five minutes alone with the chap who wrote it.' And under the electric light Maud read ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS _By the Heart Specialist_ Arthur W.--Jealousy, Arthur W., is not only the most wicked, but the most foolish of passions. Shakespeare says: _It is the green-eyed monster, which doth mock The meat it feeds on._ You admit that you have frequently caused great distress to the young lady of your affections by your exhibition of this weakness. Exactly. There is nothing a girl dislikes or despises more than jealousy. Be a man, Arthur W. Fight against it. You may find it hard at first, but persevere. Keep a smiling face. If she seems to enjoy talking to other men, show no resentment. Be merry and bright. Believe me, it is the only way. BY ADVICE OF COUNSEL