THE SUBSCRIPTION.

Charles, when our protest was lodged, merely replied that our favour
of the 10th inst. was to hand, and that he really could not see his
way to moving further in the matter. Let me explain the present extent
of Charles's movement.

Miss Donelan, who ought to have known better, had allowed herself to
be saddled with a thing called a Branch subscription list on behalf of
the St. Nicholas New Year Offering.

Having exploited the probables and possibles she finally handed the
document on to me with instructions to tout it round among my friends.
(This is the sort of thing you get nowadays for placing your life at a
young woman's disposal.)

Unfortunately I have no friends just now, except what I want to keep.
While I was thus at a loss, Charles came to stay for a few days three
doors off. He lives a long way away and would have time to forget
before I saw him again. So on the day before his departure I bearded
him like a man.

"Charles," I began, "you are fabulously rich. Your income comes in at
such a pace that you hardly ever know within five shillings how much
you have at the bank."

Charles blinked through the smoke of a violet-tipped cigarette.

"What about it?" he asked.