The tableau reminded Maltboy of his own innumerable little affairs, and he laughed.  “It’s a lovers’ quarrel,” said he, “and not to be interrupted, of course.”

The three bachelors hastily evacuated the room, and their merry laughs rang in the entry.

“Miss Wilkeson,” said Times, consulting his watch—­he carried a gold one, with an enormous gold chain—­“you must really excuse me.  Important business engagement at nine.  Good evening.”  So saying, Tiffles precipitately retired, with the determination not to enter the house again until he knew that Miss Wilkeson was out of it.

A week from that memorable day, Tiffles met Marcus Wilkeson on Broadway.

“Why haven’t you been to see us?” said Marcus.

“Not been very smart, of late,” explained Tiffles.

“Fainting fits, perhaps.  Maybe they are catching, eh?”

Tiffles smiled, for he saw that Marcus knew the truth.  “How is Miss Wilkeson?” he asked, respectfully.

“She has gone into the country for her health, and will probably stay away a number of years.  In short, I have engaged for her the position of first preceptress of a female seminary in the middle of the State.  She said she was quite sick of the hollow and heartless life of New York.”

Marcus spoke truly.  Miss Wilkeson had retired to the country with a thorough feeling of disgust for town existence.  She has taught for several years, and is still teaching in the ——­ Young Ladies’ Seminary, with eminent success, though her fair pupils complain, with much pretty pouting, of her savage restrictions upon all walks and talks with the eligible young beaux of the village.  They say that she hates the men; and they call her a cross old maid, and a great number of other hard epithets.

But, sometimes, a tear is observed in the corner of her eye, which she hastily wipes away.  That tear is an oblation upon the memory of a lost love.  That lost love was, and is, and always will be, Wesley Tiffles.

CHAPTER III.

SLAPMAN vs.  SLAPMAN.

The case of Slapman vs.  Slapman occupied the attention of the referee, Samuel Goldfinch, Esq., over two months.  That gentleman was corpulent, fond of good dinners, and had a highly cultivated taste for scandal.  It had been his custom to give this interesting case a hearing one or two hours every afternoon, daily, after court.  It was a relief from the heavy business of the day; for Goldfinch had heavy business, which came to him because he was a fat and pleasant fellow, with a large head, and a great circle of miscellaneous acquaintance.  The real work of the office was done by a modest, unappreciated man named Mixer.  On the occasion of these antimatrimonial audiences, Mixer sat in the back room, grubbing among his dusty papers; while Samuel Goldfinch, Esq., in the front room, with shut doors, leaned back in his easy chair and surrendered himself to enjoyment.