“You the clerk! And high old Jinx? What do you mean?” Craig asked, and Jeff, who was bursting to tell the news, began: “Mr. Hilton has gone off,—run away,—eloped with Miss Helen, and took the diamonds. They was married Thursday in New York and started last night for Chicago, and Miss Tracy screeched so you could hear her across the street. She’s in bed now with water bags and flat irons and things, and I’m the clerk _pro tem_. That’s what Sarah said. What does _pro tem_ mean?” Jeff had told his story in a breath, but was not prepared for the effect it had on Craig, who turned as white as the paper box which held the roses, and grasped Jeff’s shoulder to steady himself and keep from tottering, if not falling outright. It was as if a heavy blow had been dealt him in his stomach, nauseating and making him faint and dizzy, and for a moment he hardly knew where he was. “Going to ride?” the ’bus driver called to him. Craig looked up and saw in the ’bus a woman who he knew lived in the town. He could not face her with that terrible trouble on his mind. “I’ll walk,” he said, and the ’bus drove off, leaving him alone with Jeff, who was looking curiously at him. “Are you sick?” he asked; and Craig replied, “I think so. Isn’t there a short cut across the fields to the hotel?” “Yes, I’ll show you the way. You or’to have rode. You look awful white and queer,” Jeff said, starting up the path he always took when going to the river from the hotel. Craig followed slowly, scarcely seeing where he was going, or realizing anything except that something had happened to him, taking away his strength and sense. When half way up the hill they came to a stone wall where there was a gap with some big boulders for steps, making a kind of stile. Here Craig sat down to rest, while Jeff stood before him puzzled to know what had effected him so suddenly. “He seemed chipper as could be when he jumped off the train. Mabby he broke something inside,” he thought, just as Craig said to him, “Sit down here, boy, and tell me exactly how it was. Don’t add nor subtract. I want the whole truth; all you know about it from first to last. The marriage, I mean. It was not gotten up in a day.” Jeff had no suspicion of Craig’s real interest in the matter. He meant to be loyal to Mark, but did not care for Helen, or how much blame he put on her. He liked to talk, and if Craig wanted the truth he should have it. Crossing one foot over the other, he began: “Well, sir, you shall have the truth. Would you mind my smoking a cigarette?” Craig looked up in some surprise, knowing that such things were tabooed by the Taylors. “I don’t mind the odor, if that is what you mean,” he replied. “But I would not do it if I were you. It is a bad habit, and Mrs. Taylor would not like it.”