“I am going to ask a particular favor, and you must not refuse.”

“If I can serve you in any thing, it will be my pleasure to do so,” was the ready answer.

“You know that I am to be married next month?”

“So I have heard,” replied Wallingford.

“You will stand my groomsman?  Don’t say no!”

He had seen an instant negative in the young man’s face.

“Almost any thing else, but not that!” replied Henry, speaking with some feeling.  He was thrown off his guard by so unexpected a request.

“Come now, my good friend, don’t take the matter so much to heart!” said Dewey, in a light way.  “Plenty of good fish in the sea yet—­as good as ever were caught.  You must forgive the girl for liking me the best.”

“You jest on a grave subject,” said Wallingford, his face growing pale, but his eyes, a little dilated, riveting his companion’s where he stood.

“No, I am in earnest,” said Dewey, with something in his manner that was offensive.

“Jest or earnest, your familiarity is out of place with me,” retorted Wallingford, with a sternness of manner, that quickened the flow of bad blood in Dewey’s heart.

“Oh, you needn’t take on airs!” replied the other with a sneer of contempt.  Then muttering to himself, yet loud enough to be heard,—­“I didn’t suppose the puppy would growl at a familiar pat on the head.”

This was too much for Wallingford.  At another time, he might have borne it with a manly self-possession.  But only an hour before he had met Miss Floyd in the street, and the look she then gave him had stirred his heart, and left a tinge of shadowy regret on his feelings.  He was, therefore, in no mood to bear trifling, much less insult.  Scarcely had the offensive words passed Dewey’s lips, when a blow in the face staggered him back against the wall.  Instantly recovering himself, he sprang towards Wallingford in blind rage, and struck at him with a savage energy; but the latter stepped aside, and let his assailant come, with stunning force, against the wall at the other side of the office, when he fell to the floor.

At this instant, Judge Bigelow came in.

“Henry!  Ralph!” he exclaimed—­” what is the meaning of this?”

“Your nephew insulted me, and in the heat of anger I struck him in the face.  In attempting to return that blow, he missed his aim, and fell against the wall, as you see.”

Wallingford spoke without excitement, but in a stern, resolute way.  By this time, Dewey was on his feet again.  The sight of his uncle, and the unflinching aspect of the person he had ventured to insult, had the effect to cool off his excitement many degrees.

“What is the meaning of this, young men?” sternly repeated Judge Bigelow, looking from one to the other.

“I have answered your question as far as I am concerned,” replied Henry.

“Ralph!  Speak!  Did you offer him an insult?”