The quotation had just escaped our hero lips when a young fellow garbed
as Romeo, alighting from a hansom, dashed into him.

"By Jove, that was dooced awkward of me--yes, I beg your pardon, I'm
sure. Should have looked where I was going--what? said Romeo.

"Not at all," answered Nickie politely. "My fault in blocking the path.
My fault, entirely."

"By Jo-o-ve!" gasped Romeo; "that's a stunnin' make-up, old chap--what?
Nevah saw a bettah, by gad."

"Make-up?" said Nicholas. Mr. Crips had for gotten his false nose.

"Ya-as," said Romeo. "Your character, you know. A fellah 'd think you'd
just come from sleeping in a rubbish bin. Yes. Best Weary Willie I've
seen. But aren't you coming in, dear boy? You're a cart for Dolly's prize
for best-sustained character, eh?"

"Presently--presently." said Nicholas, smitten with a sudden idea.
"Waiting for a friend, you know."

Romeo went up the garden path, and Nickie the Kid retired under the
shadow of the hedge to allow his thoughts to revolve. Romeo's words had
suggested possibilities. Mr. Crips rarely wasted time making up his mind.
Three minutes later he was sauntering jauntily up the garden path on the
heels of a laughing Red Indian set.

It was a fancy dress ball. All the guests were masked or otherwise
disguised. Nickie had never encountered a softer thing. He determined to