The libation performed, Mr. Ince suggested that they should drop in at the matinee at Pastor's. Mr. Courtaine favored a stroll. Mr. Ince suggested that his programme would turn out the most pleasing one, and Mr. Courtaine said: "Hold on; we can easily see;" and producing a half-dollar he flipped it, asking, "What is it?" "Heads," answered Mr. Ince. "It's tail," remarked Mr. Courtaine. "So the stroll will turn out best. Let's be moving." They moved along, and as they passed a fruit stand Mr. Ince remarked: "Hello! there are some strawberries." "Ze first-a of ze season a-Signore," said the Neapolitan nobleman, who presided over the destinies of the stand, with a bow of invitation, "ze very first-a, only feefty cent-a ze box-a." "By Jove!" cried Mr. Courtaine, picking out three of the finest and leaving the box a quarter empty, "now, then, Ince, make a wish." "What for?" demanded Mr. Ince, making a raid on the box on his own account. "Never mind," replied Mr. Courtaine, evasively, "only whenever you eat new fruit or vegetables make a wish." And he posted the strawberries into his oratorical orifice, and walked off, leaving the fruit vender foaming at the mouth, and snarling "_corpo di diavola!_ zese actor 'ave-a ze sheek-a of a policeman. Oh! _Madonna mia!_ Eef zem boys 'ad not steal-a my club!" The stroll was varied by no further incidents except that Mr. Courtaine walked a block around to avoid passing a drunken man, and nearly lost his life snatching a cast horseshoe up from in front of a street-car. As they turned homeward Mr. Courtaine's eyes singled out a lady approaching with an armful of bundles, and he commenced a species of maniac gavotte, waving his hands at her and shouting: "Go into the street. Hey! Hey! look out for the ladder!" And when in spite of his adjurations, Mrs. Courtaine--for the lady was none other--walked under a ladder leaning against the side of a rising building. He sank upon a row of beer kegs and fastened a cumulative grip on Mr. Ince's arm, exclaiming--"Did you witness it wasn't my fault? I warned her in time, didn't I?" * * * * * "Do you remember my wife walking under a ladder yesterday?" observed Mr. Courtaine to Mr. Ince on the morrow. "Yes, what of it?" "Well, when we got home we found the cat had killed the canary bird--killed and ate it all but the tail feathers," said Mr. Courtaine triumphantly. "Now what do you think of that? Here come around to Theiss's or we'll have those fellows around us with their infernal low-minded superstitions again." [Illustration: PORTIA AND SHYLOCK. PORTIA:--Nay, if the scale do turn But in the estimation of a hair, Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate. _Merchant of Venice, Act IV., Scene 1._ ] CHAPTER X. NOT DOWN IN THE BILL.