“I beg your pardon,” said Halibut.

“Eh?” said the Major, trying to look puzzled.

“You are forgetting the conditions of the game,” replied Halibut.  “You have to obtain my permission first.”

“Why, my dear fellow,” said the Major, with a boisterous laugh.  “I wouldn’t insult you by questioning your generosity in such a case.  No, no, Halibut, old fellow, I know you too well.”

He spoke with feeling, but there was an anxious note in his voice.

“We must abide by the conditions,” said Halibut, slowly; “and I must inform you, Brill, that I intend to renew the attack myself.”

“Then, sir,” said the Major, fuming, “you compel me to say—­putting all modesty aside—­that I believe the reason Mrs. Riddel would have nothing to do with you was because she thought somebody else might make a similar offer.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Halibut, simply; “but you see now that you have so unaccountably—­so far as Mrs. Riddel is concerned—­dropped out of the running, perhaps, if I am gently persistent, she’ll take me.”

The Major rose and glared at him.

“If you don’t take care, old chap,” said Halibut, tenderly, “you’ll burst something.”

“Gently persistent,” repeated the Major, staring at him; “gently persistent.”

“Remember Bruce and his spider,” smiled the other.

“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.