The girls laughed, and Cyn exclaimed,
“What a pity it is you tore up that picture, Nat!”
“Yes,” acquiesced Nattie, adding, in explanation, to Clem—“You remember that pen and ink sketch? My first act of vengeance was to destroy it!”
“Never mind, Jo will do another, will you not?” asked Clem, turning to that gentleman, who, upon being thus appealed to, arose, laid down the nutcracker he held, and said with the utmost solemnity,
“Jo is ready to draw anything. But Jo is aghast and horrified at being mixed even in the slightest degree with anything so near approaching the romantic, as the affair in question. What is the use of a fellow shaving off his hair, I would like to know, if such things as these will happen?”
“It is no use fighting against Nature!” laughed Cyn. “Romance always has been since the world was, and always will be, I suppose. Your turn will come, Jo! I have no doubt we shall see you a long haired, cadaverous, sentimental artist yet!”
“Never!” cried Jo heroically. “But you must confess that this affair is taking undue advantage of a fellow. A wired romance is something entirely unexpected!”
“And besides, viewed telegraphically, there is nothing at all romantic in the whole affair!” said Nattie, who, between her confusion at the turn the conversation had taken, and her alarm lest something should be said about that chubby Cupid—whom it will be remembered she had suppressed in her former description to C—was decidedly embarrassed.
Before Jo could express his satisfaction at this statement, Clem exclaimed, reproachfully,
“Oh! do not say that! not even to spare our friend’s feelings can I deny the romance of our acquaintance.”
“I quite agree with you,” said Cyn; “I really believe Nat is going over to Jo’s ideas. Never mind! just wait until your turn comes, you unsentimental Jo.”
“Madam!” cried Jo, “when I find myself in the condition you describe, I will come and place the disposal of myself in your hands!” and he made her a profound bow.
There is many a true word spoken in jest, and none of the little party there assembled imagined how true, indeed, these words were to prove, as Cyn gayly answered,
“It is a bargain, Jo, and I shall have no mercy on you, I can assure you.”
“And we must not forget that we are indebted to Quimby for the unraveling of all this mystery,” said Nattie. She smiled on him where he sat, in his dismayed isolation, as she spoke, and although it was the warmest smile she had ever yet bestowed upon him, he was rendered no happier by its warmth.
“Yes, how fortunate it was, Clem, that you looked him up!” said Cyn.
Nattie wondered that she could pronounce the familiar name so easily. She was quite sure she herself could not.
“Was it not?” exclaimed Clem, delightedly; “and what is better than all, I am coming here to room with him!” At this Jo shook him cordially by the hand, Cyn and Nattie gave exclamations of pleasure, and Quimby suddenly started into life. “I—I beg pardon,” he said, hastily, “but I—I really—I thought you said you had rather be farther down town, you know.”
“Yes, that was my first inclination, but as you urged me so much, and as I find so many old friends here, I have concluded to accept your offer, my boy, so consider the matter settled,” replied Clem.
And in his own entire satisfaction and unconsciousness, Clem did not observe but what Quimby looked as happy as might be expected, at this intelligence.
“ ‘Oh, won’t we have a jolly time,’ ” sang Cyn, and Clem, Nattie and Jo—but not Quimby—took up the chorus.
And obtuse as he was, Quimby could not but observe that Nattie’s eyes were shining in a way he had never seen them shine before, that the ever-coming and going flush on her cheeks was very becoming, and that there was an expression in her face, when she looked at Clem, that face had never held for him. Nor could he fail to think, that the romantic commencement of the acquaintance of these two, even the episode of the musk-scented impostor all now enhanced the interest Nattie had once felt for the invisible C neither did he need a prophet to tell him that the two girls would sit up half the night, talking confidentially over this unexpected and happy denouement, or even that Nattie’s sleep would not be quite as sound as usual.
Love, it is said, is blind. So, to some things, perhaps, it is, but never to a rival.
And when at last Clem tore himself away, with the remark,
“What a fortunate day this has been! Quimby, my dear boy, how can I thank you? I shall take possession of my half of your apartment at once, to be sure no one shall again usurp my place; until then, au revoir!” and, in parting, perceptibly held Nattie’s hand longer than was absolutely necessary, Quimby followed him with dejected mien, fully aware that of all the mistakes he had ever made he committed the worst, when he asked his old chum to call on some lady friends of his!
XI
Miss Kling Telegraphically Baffled
Miss Betsey Kling was quite uneasy in her mind about this time, not only because the Torpedo refused to see himself in the light of that other self, and fled whenever he saw her approaching, but also because some subtle instinct told her, that under her very nose, was going on something of which the details were unknown to her, and that listen as she would, could not be ascertained. This good-looking young man, who had so suddenly appeared on Mrs. Simonson’s premises, who and what was he? From Mrs. Simonson she learned that he was an old friend of Quimby’s; that she believed he was also an old friend of Miss Archer’s, or Miss
