“It came off just beautifully, my boy.  Not that I blame them, mind you,—­how were they to know that it was a ticket which I didn’t give up last year, and that I hadn’t even taken a ticket at all to-day?  No, I don’t blame them.  As for the address, I put the same address that was on the label of the Curate’s bag, only I altered The Rev. CHARLES MARLINGHURST to Mrs. MARLINGHURST. And the Stockbroker guaranteed that I should send either the ticket or the money.  So he’ll have to pay up!  Oh, my word!  My gracious word, what a treat!”

The dear Old Lady chuckled contentedly.

Tom also chuckled.

The Stockbroker subsequently relinquished to a great extent his habit of remarking upon his own marvellous intuition, enabling him to read character at sight; the Curate preached a capital sermon on the deceptiveness of man, and when he said man he meant woman.

* * * * *

TO A TOO-ENGAGING MAIDEN.

[Illustration]

  I think you should know I’ve been put out of humour
    By something I hear very nearly each day. 
  In a small town like ours, as you know, every rumour
    Gets about in a truly remarkable way. 
  It is too much to hope for that women won’t prattle,
    But I candidly tell you, I do feel enraged
  When I find that a part of their stock tittle-tattle
    Is that we—­how I laugh at the thought!—­are engaged.

  Though you don’t even claim to be reckoned as pretty,
    You are not, I admit it, aggressively plain. 
  You dress pretty well, and your talk, if not witty,
    As a rule doesn’t give me much positive pain. 
  You will one day be rich, for your prospects are “healthy,”
    Yet as Beauty and Riches do not make up Life,
  Why, were you as lovely as Venus, as wealthy
    As Croesus I wouldn’t have you for my wife.

  Are you free altogether from blame in the matter—­
    I’m resolved to be frank, so it’s useless to frown—­
  Have you not had a share in the mischievous chatter
    Which makes our “engagement” the talk of the town? 
  When some eager, impertinent person hereafter
    Shall inquire of its truth, and shall ask, “Is it so?”
  Instead of implying assent by your laughter,
    Would you kindly oblige me by answering, “No”?

  I recognise freely your marvellous kindness
    In allowing your name to be linked with my own. 
  Maybe it is only incurable blindness
    To your charms that compels me to let them alone. 
  But if with reports I am still to be harried,
    I’ve thoroughly made up my mind what to do;
  Just to settle it all, I shall shortly be married,
    I shall shortly be married, but not—­not to you.

* * * * *