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As she did so, Solomon turned to the followers of The Good

Republican Brutus of Antiquity, and offered a few words of

explanation in the French language, which caused them all to

relapse into their former places and pursuits.

“Now,” said Solomon, stopping at the dark street corner, “what

do you want?”

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“How dreadfully unkind in a brother nothing has ever turned

my love away from!” cried Miss Pross, “to give me such a greeting,

and show me no affection.”

“There. Con-found it! There,” said Solomon, making a dab at

Miss Pross’s lips with his own. “Now are you content?”

Miss Pross only shook her head and wept in silence.

“If you expect me to be surprised,” said her brother Solomon,

“I am not surprised; I knew you were here; I know of most people

who are here. If you really don’t want to endanger my existence

which I half believe you dogo your ways as soon as possible, and

let me go mine. I am busy. I am an official.”

“My English brother Solomon,” mourned Miss Pross, casting

up her tear-fraught eyes, “that had the makings in him of one of

the best and greatest of men in his native country, an official

among foreigners, and such foreigners! I would almost sooner

have seen the dear boy lying in his”

“I said so!” cried her brother, interrupting. “I knew it. You want

to be the death