Mr. Stokes gazed at him in deep sympathy. "It can't be so bad as that,"
he said, with concern.

"You wait till you're married," said Mr. Henshaw, brusquely. "You'd no
business to ask me to go with you, and I was a good-natured fool to do
it."

"You stick to your tale and it'll be all right," said the other. "Tell
her that you spoke to me about it, and that his name is Alfred Bell--B E
double L--and that he lives in--in Ireland. Here! I say!"

"Well," said Mr. Henshaw, shaking off the hand which the other had laid
on his arm.

"You--you be Alfred Bell," said Mr. Stokes, breathlessly.

Mr. Henshaw started and eyed him nervously. His friend's eyes were
bright and, he fancied, a bit wild.

"Be Alfred Bell," repeated Mr. Stokes. "Don't you see? Pretend to be
Alfred Bell and go with me to your missis. I'll lend you a suit o'
clothes and a fresh neck-tie, and there you are."

"_What?_" roared the astounded Mr. Henshaw.

"It's as easy as easy," declared the other. "Tomorrow evening, in a new
rig-out, I walks you up to your house and asks for you to show you to
yourself. Of course, I'm sorry you ain't in, and perhaps we walks in to
wait for you."