lake beach, when a young lady ran past him towards a group of friends.
A foppishly-dressed man with a great black moustache was hastening after her, but she was calling laughingly back at him:
"No, no, count, you would take all night getting that ring off—I'll try some one else."
"It ees a meestake. Allow me to try once more, my dear young lady."
"Hello!" ejaculated Frank, with a violent start. Then in a flash he slipped the tray from place, set it hastily on a vacant bench, and as the man was passing by him caught him deliberately by the sleeve.
"Sare!" challenged the man, with a supercilious stare. "Oh!" he added, wilting down in an instant.
"I suppose you don't know me?" demanded Frank.
"Nevare, sare."
"I am Frank Newton, of Greenville, and, for all your false moustache and broken English, you are Gideon Purnell."
"Let go!" hissed the man, with a rapid glance at the group just beyond them.
"No," replied Frank firmly, only tightening his grasp on the man's coat sleeve. "I have been
