"Exactly," Nattie replied; "first telling me he was going away to substitute for a day, and then coming upon me in all his odiousness." "The story seems to interest you," added Cyn, glancing at him scrutinizingly. Mr. Stanwood looked at her, at Nattie, mused a moment, and then burst into a laugh, equal even to the one Quimby had caused. "It does interest me," he said, as soon as he could speak; "very much, indeed. It is really the best joke--considered from one point--I ever heard. And, of course, after that day, 'C' was cut?" "Indeed he was," Nattie replied, scornfully. "The circuit was broken after that!" Jo added, technically. "And a romance was spoiled in the first act," added Cyn, rising from the now vanished feast. "Poor 'C'!" said Mr. Stanwood, following her example. "Really, Miss Archer, I have enjoyed this dinner better than any I ever had, and the climax is the best of all!" "I wish we might have such a feast every day!" said Jo, regretfully. "And, except the damage--I don't refer to any done myself, I--I am used to it, you know--I quite agree with you about the dinner. And as for the joke--I--I--really it was quite a serious one to Miss Rogers, at the time, I assure you. Bless my soul! You should have seen how--how blue she was for a week, you know!" said Quimby. Nattie colored as Mr. Stanwood glanced at her, and knowing he could not but notice the blush, thought angrily, "How dreadful it is to have such honest, outspoken people as Quimby about!" "Come, Nat, and help me clear away the remains," said Cyn. Apparently glad enough was Nattie to obey, and turn aside her burning face from the sight of those merry brown eyes. In a very few moments the banqueting hall was transformed to a parlor, with only Quimby sucking an orange on his stool that he refused to leave, Jo cracking nuts, and the Duchess eating a fig, to tell of what had been. CHAPTER X. THE BROKEN CIRCUIT RE-UNITED. Mr. Stanwood sat down at the table where Nattie was looking over Cyn's album, and seemed to have become very thoughtful; Cyn meanwhile busied herself in dressing an ugly gash the ever-unfortunate Quimby had managed to inflict on his hand. Suddenly Nattie was disturbed by Mr. Stanwood drumming with a pencil on the marble top of the table, and glancing up casually, observed his eyes fixed upon her with a peculiar expression, and at the same moment her ear seemed to catch a familiar sound. With a slight start she listened more attentively to his seemingly idle drumming. Yes--whether knowingly, or by accident, he certainly was making dots and dashes, and what is more, was making N's! "I will soon ascertain if he means it or not!" thought Nattie, and seizing a pair of scissors, the only adaptable instrument handy, she drummed out, slowly, on account of the imperfectness of her impromptu key--pretending all the while to be entirely absorbed in the album, "Are you an operator?"