"--Unmarried, of course," said the chatty little woman.

"Oh, yes!" said John, in a matter-of-course tone--but he caught
himself abruptly--then stared intently at his napkin--glanced
evasively at the side-face of his questioner, and said,--"Oh yes! Yes,
indeed! He's unmarried.--Old bachelor like myself, you know. Ha! Ha!"

"So he's not like the young man here that distinguished himself last
night?" said the little woman, archly.

The fork in John's hand, half-lifted to his lips, faltered and fell
back toward his plate.

"Why, what's that?" said John, in a strange voice; "I hadn't heard
anything about it--I mean I haven't heard anything about any young
man. What was it?"

"Haven't heard anything about the elopement?" exclaimed the little
woman, in astonishment.--"Why, it's been the talk of the town all
morning. Elopement in high life--son of a grain-dealer, name of Hines,
or Himes, or something, and a preacher's daughter--Josie
somebody--didn't catch her last name. Wonder if you don't know the
parties--Why, Mr. McKinney, are you ill?"

"Oh, no--not at all!" said John: "Don't mention it. Ha--ha! Just
eating too rapidly, that's all. Go on with--you were saying that Bert
and Josie had really eloped."

"What 'Bert'?" asked the little woman quickly.