Six months before, this young graduate of a fresh-water college had come to Boston and entered upon the twin pursuits of journalism and agriculture. As a newspaper man, he had so far succeeded in earning the munificent salary of $6 per week, which almost paid for his room, his laundry, and his cigarettes. As a farmer, he had sown with signal success one of the finest lines of wild oats in the city, and was now finding some difficulty in their gathering. His only relative—the rich old uncle common to all fairy tales—had hitherto settled the periodical deficits in his accounts with unfailing good humor and abundant generosity; but now he had suddenly thrown up his role of good genius, objecting, perhaps, to being used as a patent reaper. [Illustration: Man looking down] So Ted sat and gazed and sighed; sometimes, to vary the monotony, he swore. The French dancers from the “Black Crook,” who roomed next door, were screeching some Parisian street song as grotesque and inharmonious as their acrobatics. The parrots and macaws in the bird store down stairs answered them back with scarcely more discordance; and between them Ted felt sure his environment would drive him to suicide or drink. Before he had time to grasp either horn of the dilemma, however, a knock at the door ushered in one of his few welcome visitors. The little dark chorus girl in “Venus,” who roomed with her mother two doors beyond, was pretty enough to attract Ted’s attention the first time they met, and modest and womanly enough in a sweet, old-fashioned way to retain, not only his earnest admiration, but his hearty respect. This afternoon she was bubbling over with happiness, so much so that she never noticed Ted’s lugubrious expression. “Oh! Mr. Tracy,” she began at once, “I’m to have a part to-night. Mr. Rice and Miss Tinnie have had a row, and I’m to do Absurdaria. You know I’ve understudied it all the season; and, Mr. Tracy, mother wants to see it so much, but she can’t go alone very well; and could you—would you—be her escort? I’ve the tickets; and it will be so kind of you.” “With the greatest pleasure,” said Ted, as she stopped for breath. “I should never have forgiven you if you had not allowed me to share in your first night’s triumph.” “Oh, nonsense!” replied the girl, with a charming blush. “But I must not, will not, fail with mother there. And I should like to please you, too,” she added shyly. [Illustration: Woman looking left]