“You are not going to propose to that poor woman nine times?” roared his incensed friend.

“I hope that it will not be necessary,” was the reply; “but if it is, I can assure you, my dear Brill, that I’m not going to be outclassed by a mere spider.”

“But think of her feelings!” gasped the Major.

“I have,” was the reply; “and I’m sure she’ll thank me for it afterward.  You see, Brill, you and I are the only eligibles in the place, and now you are out of it, she’s sure to take me sooner or later.”

“And pray how long am I to wait?” demanded the Major, controlling himself with difficulty.

“I can’t say,” said Halibut; “but I don’t think it’s any good your waiting at all, because if I see any signs that Mrs. Riddel is waiting for you I may just give her a hint of the hopelessness of it.”

“You’re a perfect Mephistopheles, sir!” bawled the indignant Major.  Halibut bowed.

“Strategy, my dear Brill,” he said, smiling; “strategy.  Now why waste your time?  Why not make some other woman happy?  Why not try her companion, Miss Philpotts?  I’m sure any little assistance—­”

The Major’s attitude was so alarming that the sentence was never finished, and a second later the speaker found himself alone, watching his irate friend hurrying frantically down the path, knocking the blooms off the geraniums with his cane as he went.  He saw no more of him for several weeks, the Major preferring to cherish his resentment in the privacy of his house.  The Major also refrained from seeing the widow, having a wholesome dread as to what effect the contemplation of her charms might have upon his plighted word.

He met her at last by chance.  Mrs. Riddel bowed coldly and would have passed on, but the Major had already stopped, and was making wild and unmerited statements about the weather.

“It is seasonable,” she said, simply.

The Major agreed with her, and with a strong-effort regained his composure.

“I was just going to turn back,” he said, untruthfully; “may I walk with you?”

“I am not going far,” was the reply.

With soldierly courage the Major took this as permission; with feminine precision Mrs. Riddel walked about fifty yards and then stopped.  “I told you I wasn’t going far,” she said sweetly, as she held out her hand.  “Goodby.”

“I wanted to ask you something,” said the Major, turning with her.  “I can’t think what it was.

They walked on very slowly, the Major’s heart beating rapidly as he told himself that the lady’s coldness was due to his neglect of the past few weeks, and his wrath against Halibut rose to still greater heights as he saw the cruel position in which that schemer had placed him.  Then he made a sudden resolution.  There was no condition as to secrecy, and, first turning the conversation on to indoor amusements, he told the astonished Mrs. Riddel the full particulars of the fatal game.  Mrs. Riddel said that she would never forgive them; it was the most preposterous thing she had ever heard of.  And she demanded hotly whether she was to spend the rest of her life in refusing Mr. Halibut.