the way the poor fellow acted that he was badly stuck.  He sighed, and promised to pluck up courage to hurry matters to a crisis.  Nellie was a good girl, and I think had a sort of quiet respect for old Fagg’s unobtrusiveness.  But her fancy was already taken captive by Rattler’s superficial qualities, which were obvious and pleasing.  I don’t think Nellie was any worse than you or I. We are more apt to take acquaintances at their apparent value than their intrinsic worth.  It’s less trouble, and, except when we want to trust them, quite as convenient.  The difficulty with women is that their feelings are apt to get interested sooner than ours, and then, you know, reasoning is out of the question.  This is what old Fagg would have known had he been of any account.  But he wasn’t.  So much the worse for him.

It was a few months afterward and I was sitting in my office when in walked old Fagg.  I was surprised to see him down, but we talked over the current topics in that mechanical manner of people who know that they have something else to say, but are obliged to get at it in that formal way.  After an interval Fagg in his natural manner said: 

“I’m going home!”

“Going home?”

“Yes—­that is, I think I’ll take a trip to the Atlantic States.  I came to see you, as you know I have some little property, and I have executed a power of attorney for you to manage my affairs.  I have some papers I’d like to leave with you.  Will you take charge of them?”

“Yes,” I said.  “But what of Nellie?”

His face fell.  He tried to smile, and the combination resulted in one of the most startling and grotesque effects I ever beheld.  At length he said: 

“I shall not marry Nellie—­that is”—­he seemed to apologize internally for the positive form of expression—­“I think that I had better not.”

“David Fagg,” I said with sudden severity, “you’re of no account!”

To my astonishment his face brightened.  “Yes,” said he, “that’s it!—­I’m of no account!  But I always knew it.  You see I thought Rattler loved that girl as well as I did, and I knew she liked him better than she did me, and would be happier I dare say with him.  But then I knew that old Robins would have preferred me to him, as I was better off—­and the girl would do as he said—­and, you see, I thought I was kinder in the way—­and so I left.  But,” he continued, as I was about to interrupt him, “for fear the old man might object to Rattler, I’ve lent him enough to set him up in business for himself in Dogtown.  A pushing, active, brilliant fellow, you know, like Rattler can get along, and will soon be in his old position again—­and you needn’t be hard on him, you know, if he doesn’t.  Good-by.”