came the sound of the chase.

"Mark," Weston began, "I hope this affair of Tim's turns out all right.
What little I can do shall be done, and to-night I'm going to write to
the office that they must help him along. He deserves it."

"But the poorer men are, the greater their love," I laughed. "With
money to marry, Tim might think that after all he'd better look around
more--take a choice."

"But Tim is the most serious person that ever was," returned Weston.
"I have found that out. Once he makes up his mind, there is no
changing it. He is full of ideas. He actually thinks that a man who
is in business is doing something praiseworthy; that a man who has
bought and sold merchandise at a profit all his life can fold his hands
when he dies and say; 'I have not lived in vain.' He does not know yet
that the larger estate a man leaves to his relatives the more useful
his life has been. Now I suppose he hopes some day to be a tea-king.
Perhaps he will. I hope so. I don't want the job. But once he has
picked out his queen, you can't change him by making marriage a
financial impossibility."

"Well, I'm certainly not protesting against your raising his salary,"
said I.

"You needn't. To tell the truth, it's too late. I wrote to the office
about that yesterday."

It was of no use to thank Weston for anything. I tried to, but he
brushed it aside airily and told me to attend to my own affairs and