He didn’t answer right off; seemed to be chewing it over.  After a spell he spoke.

“Mr. Wingate,” says he, “with the understanding that you mentioned, I don’t mind supposing a case.  Suppose you was a chap in college.  Suppose you met a girl in the vicinity that was—­well, was about the best ever.  Suppose you came to find that life wasn’t worth a continental without that girl.  Then suppose you had a dad with money, lots of money.  Suppose the old fo—­the gov’nor, I mean—­ without even seeing her or even knowing her name or a thing about her, said no.  Suppose you and the old gentleman had a devil of a row, and broke off for keeps.  Then suppose the girl wouldn’t listen to you under the circumstances.  Talked rot about ’wasted future’ and ‘throwing your life away’ and so on.  Suppose, when you showed her that you didn’t care a red for futures, she ran away from you and wouldn’t tell where she’d gone.  Suppose—­well, I guess that’s enough supposing.  I don’t know why I’m telling you these things, anyway.”

He stopped and scowled at the floor, acting like he was sorry he spoke.  I pulled at my pipe a minute or so and then says I: 

“Hum!” I says, “I presume likely it’s fair to suppose that this break with the old gent is for good?”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to; the look on his face was enough.

“Yes,” says I.  “Well, it’s likewise to be supposed that the idea—­ the eventual idea—­is marriage, straight marriage, hey?”

He jumped out of his chair.  “Why, damn you!” he says.  “I’ll—­”

“All right.  Set down and be nice.  I was fairly sure of my soundings, but it don’t do no harm to heave the lead.  I ask your pardon.  Well, what you going to support a wife on—­her kind of a wife?  A summer waiter’s job at twenty a month?”

He set down, but he looked more troubled than ever.  I was sorry for him; I couldn’t help liking the boy.

“Suppose she keeps her word and goes away,” says I.  “What then?”

“I’ll go after her.”

“Suppose she still sticks to her principles and won’t have you?  Where’ll you go, then?”

“To the hereafter,” says he, naming the station at the end of the route.

“Oh, well, there’s no hurry about that.  Most of us are sure of a free one-way pass to that port some time or other, ’cording to the parson’s tell.  See here, Jones; let’s look at this thing like a couple of men, not children.  You don’t want to keep chasing that girl from pillar to post, making her more miserable than she is now.  And you ain’t in no position to marry her.  The way to show a young woman like her that you mean business and are going to be wuth cooking meals for is to get the best place you can and start in to earn a living and save money.  Now, Mr. Brown’s father-in-law is a man by the name of Dillaway, Dillaway of the Consolidated Cash Stores.  He’ll do things for me if I ask him to, and I happen to know that he’s just started a branch up to Providence and is there now.  Suppose I give you a note to him, asking him, as a favor to me, to give you the best job he can.  He’ll do it, I know.  After that it’s up to you.  This is, of course, providing that you start for Providence to-morrer morning.  What d’you say?”