and if he still wore dress clothes at dinner. The information thus
elicited forced him to the conclusion that the old gentleman's
circumstances were reduced, and that it was possible that he, John
Lummox, might be actually compelled to earn his own living. He
communicated that suspicion to his father at dinner, and over the
last bottle of "Mouton," a circumstance which also had determined
him in his resolution. "You might," said his father thoughtfully,
"offer yourself to some rising American novelist as a study for the
new hero,--one absolutely without ambition, capacity, or energy;
willing, however, to be whatever the novelist chooses to make him,
so long as he hasn't to choose for himself. If your inordinate
self-consciousness is still in your way, I could give him a few
points about you, myself."

"I had thought," said John, hesitatingly, "of going into your
office and becoming your partner in the business. You could always
look after me, you know."

A shudder passed over the old man. Then he tremblingly muttered to
himself:

"Thank heaven! There is one way it may still be averted!"
Retiring to his room he calmly committed suicide, thoughtfully
leaving the empty poison bottle in the fender.

And this is how John Lummox came to offer himself as a clerk to
Dan'l Borem. The ways of Providence are indeed strange, yet those
of the novelist are only occasionally novel.