the game?"

"I can't do it--I can't do it," said Mr. Spragg, bringing his clenched
hand down on the desk, as if addressing an invisible throng of
assailants.

Moffatt rose without any evidence of disappointment in his ruddy
countenance. "Well, so long," he said, moving toward the door. Near
the threshold he paused to add carelessly: "Excuse my referring to a
personal matter--but I understand Miss Spragg's wedding takes place next
Monday."

Mr. Spragg was silent.

"How's that?" Moffatt continued unabashed. "I saw in the papers the date
was set for the end of June."

Mr. Spragg rose heavily from his seat. "I presume my daughter has her
reasons," he said, moving toward the door in Moffatt's wake.

"I guess she has--same as I have for wanting you to step round with me
to old Driscoll's. If Undine's reasons are as good as mine--"

"Stop right here, Elmer Moffatt!" the older man broke out with lifted
hand. Moffatt made a burlesque feint of evading a blow; then his face
grew serious, and he moved close to Mr. Spragg, whose arm had fallen to
his side.

"See here, I know Undine's reasons. I've had a talk with her--didn't
she tell you? SHE don't beat about the bush the way you do. She told me