The only real happiness, we are told, is to be obtained by bringinghappiness to others. Bugs Butler's mood, accordingly, when some thirtyhours after the painful episode recorded in the last chapter he awokefrom a state of coma in the ring at Jersey City to discover that Mr. LewLucas had knocked him out in the middle of the third round, should havebeen one of quiet contentment. His inability to block a short left-hookfollowed by a right to the point of the jaw had ameliorated quite anumber of existences.

　　Mr. Lew Lucas, for one, was noticeably pleased. So were Mr. Lucas'sseconds, one of whom went so far as to kiss him. And most of the crowd,who had betted heavily on the champion, were delighted. Yet Bugs Butlerdid not rejoice. It is not too much to say that his peevish bearingstruck a jarring note in the general gaiety. A heavy frown disfiguredhis face as he slouched from the ring.

　　But the happiness which he had spread went on spreading. The two WiseGuys, who had been unable to attend the fight in person, received theresult on the ticker and exuberantly proclaimed themselves the richer byfive hundred dollars. The pimpled office-boy at the Fillmore NicholasTheatrical Enterprises Ltd. caused remark in the Subway by whoopinggleefully when he read the news in his morning paper, for he, too, hadbeen rendered wealthier by the brittleness of Mr. Butler's chin. And itwas with fierce satisfaction that Sally, breakfasting in her littleapartment, informed herself through the sporting page of the details ofthe contender's downfall. She was not a girl who disliked many people,but she had acquired a lively distaste for Bugs Butler.

　　Lew Lucas seemed a man after her own heart. If he had been a personalfriend of Ginger's he could not, considering the brief time at hisdisposal, have avenged him with more thoroughness. In round one he haddone all sorts of diverting things to Mr. Butler's left eye: in roundtwo he had continued the good work on that gentleman's body; and inround three he had knocked him out. Could anyone have done more? Sallythought not, and she drank Lew Lucas's health in a cup of coffee andhoped his old mother was proud of him.

　　The telephone bell rang at her elbow. She unhooked the receiver.

　　"Hullo?""Oh, hullo," said a voice.

　　"Ginger!" cried Sally delightedly.

　　"I say, I'm awfully glad you're back. I only got your letter thismorning. Found it at the boarding-house. I happened to look in thereand...""Ginger," interrupted Sally, "your voice is music, but I want to seeyou. Where are you?""I'm at a chemist's shop across the street. I was wondering if...""Come here at once!""I say, may I? I was just going to ask.""You miserable creature, why haven't you been round to see me before?""Well, as a matter of fact, I haven't been going about much for the lastday. You see...""I know. Of course." Quick sympathy came into Sally's voice. She gavea sidelong glance of approval and gratitude at the large picture of LewLucas which beamed up at her from the morning paper. "You poor thing!

　　How are you?""Oh, all right, thanks.""Well, hurry."There was a slight pause at the other end of the wire.

　　"I say.""Well?""I'm not much to look at, you know.""You never were. Stop talking and hurry over.""I mean to say..."Sally hung up the receiver firmly. She waited eagerly for some minutes,and then footsteps came along the passage. They stopped at her door andthe bell rang. Sally ran to the door, flung it open, and recoiled inconsternation.

　　"Oh, Ginger!"He had stated the facts accurately when he had said that he was not muchto look at. He gazed at her devotedly out of an unblemished right eye,but the other was hidden altogether by a puffy swelling of dull purple.

　　A great bruise marred his left cheek-bone, and he spoke with somedifficulty through swollen lips.

　　"It's all right, you know," he assured her.

　　"It isn't. It's awful! Oh, you poor darling!" She clenched her teethviciously. "I wish he had killed him!""Eh?""I wish Lew Lucas or whatever his name is had murdered him. Brute!""Oh, I don't know, you know." Ginger's sense of fairness compelled himto defend his late employer against these harsh sentiments. "He isn't abad sort of chap, really. Bugs Butler, I mean.""Do you seriously mean to stand there and tell me you don't loathe thecreature?""Oh, he's all right. See his point of view and all that. Can't blamehim, if you come to think of it, for getting the wind up a bit in thecircs. Bit thick, I mean to say, a sparring-partner going at him likethat. Naturally he didn't think it much of a wheeze. It was my faultright along. Oughtn't to have done it, of course, but somehow, when hestarted making an ass of me and I knew you were looking on... well, itseemed a good idea to have a dash at doing something on my own. No rightto, of course. A sparring-partner isn't supposed...""Sit down," said Sally.

　　Ginger sat down.

　　"Ginger," said Sally, "you're too good to live.""Oh, I say!""I believe if someone sandbagged you and stole your watch and chainyou'd say there were faults on both sides or something. I'm just a cat,and I say I wish your beast of a Bugs Butler had perished miserably. I'dhave gone and danced on his grave... But whatever made you go in forthat sort of thing?""Well, it seemed the only job that was going at the moment. I've alwaysdone a goodish bit of boxing and I was very fit and so on, and it lookedto me rather an opening. Gave me something to get along with. You getpaid quite fairly decently, you know, and it's rather a jolly life...""Jolly? Being hammered about like that?""Oh, you don't notice it much. I've always enjoyed scrapping rather.

　　And, you see, when your brother gave me the push..."Sally uttered an exclamation.

　　"What an extraordinary thing it is--I went all the way out to WhitePlains that afternoon to find Fillmore and tackle him about that and Ididn't say a word about it. And I haven't seen or been able to get holdof him since.""No? Busy sort of cove, your brother.""Why did Fillmore let you go?""Let me go? Oh, you mean... well, there was a sort of mix-up. A kind ofmisunderstanding.""What happened?""Oh, it was nothing. Just a...""What happened?"Ginger's disfigured countenance betrayed embarrassment. He lookedawkwardly about the room.

　　"It's not worth talking about.""It is worth talking about. I've a right to know. It was I who sentyou to Fillmore...""Now that," said Ginger, "was jolly decent of you.""Don't interrupt! I sent you to Fillmore, and he had no business to letyou go without saying a word to me. What happened?"Ginger twiddled his fingers unhappily.

　　"Well, it was rather unfortunate. You see, his wife--I don't know ifyou know her?...""Of course I know her.""Why, yes, you would, wouldn't you? Your brother's wife, I mean," saidGinger acutely. "Though, as a matter of fact, you often findsisters-in-law who won't have anything to do with one another. I know afellow...""Ginger," said Sally, "it's no good your thinking you can get out oftelling me by rambling off on other subjects. I'm grim and resolute andrelentless, and I mean to get this story out of you if I have to use acorkscrew. Fillmore's wife, you were saying..."Ginger came back reluctantly to the main theme.

　　"Well, she came into the office one morning, and we started foolingabout...""Fooling about?""Well, kind of chivvying each other.""Chivvying?""At least I was.""You were what?""Sort of chasing her a bit, you know."Sally regarded this apostle of frivolity with amazement.

　　"What do you mean?"Ginger's embarrassment increased.

　　"The thing was, you see, she happened to trickle in rather quietly whenI happened to be looking at something, and I didn't know she was theretill she suddenly grabbed it...""Grabbed what?""The thing. The thing I happened to be looking at. She bagged it...

　　collared it... took it away from me, you know, and wouldn't give it backand generally started to rot about a bit, so I rather began to chivvyher to some extent, and I'd just caught her when your brother happenedto roll in. I suppose," said Ginger, putting two and two together, "hehad really come with her to the office and had happened to hang back fora minute or two, to talk to somebody or something... well, of course,he was considerably fed to see me apparently doing jiu-jitsu with hiswife. Enough to rattle any man, if you come to think of it," saidGinger, ever fair-minded. "Well, he didn't say anything at the time, buta bit later in the day he called me in and administered the push."Sally shook her head.

　　"It sounds the craziest story to me. What was it that Mrs. Fillmoretook from you?""Oh, just something."Sally rapped the table imperiously.

　　"Ginger!""Well, as a matter of fact," said her goaded visitor, "It was aphotograph.""Who of? Or, if you're particular, of whom?""Well... you, to be absolutely accurate.""Me?" Sally stared. "But I've never given you a photograph of myself."Ginger's face was a study in scarlet and purple.

　　"You didn't exactly give it to me," he mumbled. "When I say give, Imean...""Good gracious!" Sudden enlightenment came upon Sally. "That photographwe were hunting for when I first came here! Had you stolen it all thetime?""Why, yes, I did sort of pinch it...""You fraud! You humbug! And you pretended to help me look for it." Shegazed at him almost with respect. "I never knew you were so deep andsnaky. I'm discovering all sorts of new things about you."There was a brief silence. Ginger, confession over, seemed a triflehappier.

　　"I hope you're not frightfully sick about it?" he said at length. "Itwas lying about, you know, and I rather felt I must have it. Hadn't thecheek to ask you for it, so...""Don't apologize," said Sally cordially. "Great compliment. So I havecaused your downfall again, have I? I'm certainly your evil genius,Ginger. I'm beginning to feel like a regular rag and a bone and a hankof hair. First I egged you on to insult your family--oh, by the way, Iwant to thank you about that. Now that I've met your Uncle Donald I cansee how public-spirited you were. I ruined your prospects there, and nowmy fatal beauty--cabinet size--has led to your destruction once more.

　　It's certainly up to me to find you another job, I can see that.""No, really, I say, you mustn't bother. I shall be all right.""It's my duty. Now what is there that you really can do? Burglary, ofcourse, but it's not respectable. You've tried being a waiter and aprize-fighter and a right-hand man, and none of those seems to be justright. Can't you suggest anything?"Ginger shook his head.

　　"I shall wangle something, I expect." '

　　"Yes, but what? It must be something good this time. I don't want to bewalking along Broadway and come on you suddenly as a street-cleaner. Idon't want to send for an express-man and find you popping up. My ideawould be to go to my bank to arrange an overdraft and be told thepresident could give me two minutes and crawl in humbly and find youprezzing away to beat the band in a big chair. Isn't there anything inthe world that you can do that's solid and substantial and will keep youout of the poor-house in your old age? Think!""Of course, if I had a bit of capital...""Ah! The business man! And what," inquired Sally, "would you do, Mr.

　　Morgan, if you had a bit of capital?""Run a dog-thingummy," said Ginger promptly.

　　"What's a dog-thingummy?""Why, a thingamajig. For dogs, you know."Sally nodded.

　　"Oh, a thingamajig for dogs? Now I understand. You will put things soobscurely at first. Ginger, you poor fish, what are you raving about?

　　What on earth is a thingamajig for dogs?""I mean a sort of place like fellows have. Breeding dogs, you know, andselling them and winning prizes and all that. There are lots of themabout.""Oh, a kennels?""Yes, a kennels.""What a weird mind you have, Ginger. You couldn't say kennels at first,could you? That wouldn't have made it difficult enough. I suppose, ifanyone asked you where you had your lunch, you would say, 'Oh, at athingamajig for mutton chops'... Ginger, my lad, there is something inthis. I believe for the first time in our acquaintance you have spokensomething very nearly resembling a mouthful. You're wonderful with dogs,aren't you?""I'm dashed keen on them, and I've studied them a bit. As a matter offact, though it seems rather like swanking, there isn't much about dogsthat I don't know.""Of course. I believe you're a sort of honorary dog yourself. I couldtell it by the way you stopped that fight at Roville. You plunged into ahowling mass of about a million hounds of all species and just whisperedin their ears and they stopped at once. Why, the more one examines this,the better it looks. I do believe it's the one thing you couldn't helpmaking a success of. It's very paying, isn't it?""Works out at about a hundred per cent on the original outlay, I've beentold.""A hundred per cent? That sounds too much like something of Fillmore'sfor comfort. Let's say ninety-nine and be conservative. Ginger, you havehit it. Say no more. You shall be the Dog King, the biggestthingamajigger for dogs in the country. But how do you start?""Well, as a matter of fact, while I was up at White Plains, I ran into acove who had a place of the sort and wanted to sell out. That was whatmade me think of it.""You must start to-day. Or early to-morrow.""Yes," said Ginger doubtfully. "Of course, there's the catch, youknow.""What catch?""The capital. You've got to have that. This fellow wouldn't sell outunder five thousand dollars.""I'll lend you five thousand dollars.""No!" said Ginger.

　　Sally looked at him with exasperation. "Ginger, I'd like to slap you,"she said. It was maddening, this intrusion of sentiment into businessaffairs. Why, simply because he was a man and she was a woman, shouldshe be restrained from investing money in a sound commercialundertaking? If Columbus had taken up this bone-headed stand towardsQueen Isabella, America would never have been discovered.

　　"I can't take five thousand dollars off you," said Ginger firmly.

　　"Who's talking of taking it off me, as you call it?" stormed Sally.

　　"Can't you forget your burglarious career for a second? This isn't thesame thing as going about stealing defenceless girls' photographs. Thisis business. I think you would make an enormous success of a dog-place,and you admit you're good, so why make frivolous objections? Whyshouldn't I put money into a good thing? Don't you want me to get rich,or what is it?"Ginger was becoming confused. Argument had never been his strong point.

　　"But it's such a lot of money.""To you, perhaps. Not to me. I'm a plutocrat. Five thousand dollars!

　　What's five thousand dollars? I feed it to the birds."Ginger pondered woodenly for a while. His was a literal mind, and heknew nothing of Sally's finances beyond the fact that when he had firstmet her she had come into a legacy of some kind. Moreover, he had beenhugely impressed by Fillmore's magnificence. It seemed plain enoughthat the Nicholases were a wealthy family.

　　"I don't like it, you know," he said.

　　"You don't have to like it," said Sally. "You just do it."A consoling thought flashed upon Ginger.

　　"You'd have to let me pay you interest.""Let you? My lad, you'll have to pay me interest. What do you thinkthis is--a round game? It's a cold business deal.""Topping!" said Ginger relieved. "How about twenty-five per cent.""Don't be silly," said Sally quickly. "I want three.""No, that's all rot," protested Ginger. "I mean to say--three. Idon't," he went on, making a concession, "mind saying twenty.""If you insist, I'll make it five. Not more.""Well, ten, then?""Five!""Suppose," said Ginger insinuatingly, "I said seven?""I never saw anyone like you for haggling," said Sally with disapproval.

　　"Listen! Six. And that's my last word.""Six?""Six."Ginger did sums in his head.

　　"But that would only work out at three hundred dollars a year. It isn'tenough.""What do you know about it? As if I hadn't been handling this sort ofdeal in my life. Six! Do you agree?""I suppose so.""Then that's settled. Is this man you talk about in New York?""No, he's down on Long Island at a place on the south shore.""I mean, can you get him on the 'phone and clinch the thing?""Oh, yes. I know his address, and I suppose his number's in the book.""Then go off at once and settle with him before somebody else snaps himup. Don't waste a minute."Ginger paused at the door.

　　"I say, you're absolutely sure about this?'''

　　"Of course.""I mean to say...""Get on," said Sally.

　　The window of Sally's sitting-room looked out on to a street which,while not one of the city's important arteries, was capable,nevertheless, of affording a certain amount of entertainment to theobserver: and after Ginger had left, she carried the morning paper tothe window-sill and proceeded to divide her attention between a thirdreading of the fight-report and a lazy survey of the outer world. It wasa beautiful day, and the outer world was looking its best.

　　She had not been at her post for many minutes when a taxi-cab stopped atthe apartment-house, and she was surprised and interested to see herbrother Fillmore heave himself out of the interior. He paid the driver,and the cab moved off, leaving him on the sidewalk casting a largeshadow in the sunshine. Sally was on the point of calling to him, whenhis behaviour became so odd that astonishment checked her.

　　From where she sat Fillmore had all the appearance of a man practisingthe steps of a new dance, and sheer curiosity as to what he would donext kept Sally watching in silence. First, he moved in a resolute sortof way towards the front door; then, suddenly stopping, scuttled back.

　　This movement he repeated twice, after which he stood in deep thoughtbefore making another dash for the door, which, like the others, came toan abrupt end as though he had run into some invisible obstacle. And,finally, wheeling sharply, he bustled off down the street and was lostto view.

　　Sally could make nothing of it. If Fillmore had taken the trouble tocome in a taxi-cab, obviously to call upon her, why had he abandoned theidea at her very threshold? She was still speculating on this mysterywhen the telephone-bell rang, and her brother's voice spoke huskily inher ear.

　　"Sally?""Hullo, Fill. What are you going to call it?""What am I... Call what?""The dance you were doing outside here just now. It's your owninvention, isn't it?""Did you see me?" said Fillmore, upset.

　　"Of course I saw you. I was fascinated.""I--er--I was coming to have a talk with you. Sally..."Fillmore's voice trailed off.

　　"Well, why didn't you?"There was a pause--on Fillmore's part, if the timbre of at his voicecorrectly indicated his feelings, a pause of discomfort. Something wasplainly vexing Fillmore's great mind.

　　"Sally," he said at last, and coughed hollowly into the receiver.

　　"Yes.""I--that is to say, I have asked Gladys... Gladys will be coming to seeyou very shortly. Will you be in?""I'll stay in. How is Gladys? I'm longing to see her again.""She is very well. A trifle--a little upset.""Upset? What about?""She will tell you when she arrives. I have just been 'phoning to her.

　　She is coming at once." There was another pause. "I'm afraid she has badnews.""What news?"There was silence at the other end of the wire.

　　"What news?" repeated Sally, a little sharply. She hated mysteries.

　　But Fillmore had rung off. Sally hung up the receiver thoughtfully.

　　She was puzzled and anxious. However, there being nothing to be gainedby worrying, she carried the breakfast things into the kitchen andtried to divert herself by washing up. Presently a ring at the door-bellbrought her out, to find her sister-in-law.

　　Marriage, even though it had brought with it the loft............