his father, though, I'll wager my existence!"

Upon his office desk John found a hastily written note. It was
addressed in the well-known hand of his old chum. He eyed the missive
apprehensively, and there was a positive pathos in his voice as he
said aloud, "It's our divorce. I feel it!" The note, headed, "At the
Office, 4 in Morning," ran like this:

"Dear Mack--I left you slumbering so soundly that, by noon,
when you waken, I hope, in your refreshed state, you will
look more tolerantly on my intentions as partially confided
to you this night. I will not see you here again to say
good-bye. I wanted to, but was afraid to 'rouse the sleeping
lion.' I will not close my eyes to-night--fact is, I haven't
time. Our serenade at Josie's was a pre-arranged signal by
which she is to be ready and at the station for the 5
morning train. You may remember the lighting of three
consecutive matches at her window before the igniting of her
lamp. That meant, 'Thrice dearest one, I'll meet thee at the
depot at 4:30 sharp.' So, my dear Mack, this is to inform
you that, even as you read, Josie and I have eloped. It is
all the old man's fault, yet I forgive him. Hope he'll
return the favor. Josie predicts he will, inside of a
week--or two weeks, anyhow. Good-bye, Mack, old boy; and let
a fellow down as easy as you can.

Affectionately,

BERT."