CHAPTER II.
WILKINSON was nearly in front of his own door, when he was thus familiarly accosted by a man named Ellis, who came leisurely walking along with a lighted cigar in his mouth.
"Hallo! is this you, Wilkinson?
What in the name of wonder are you doing out at such an hour ?" "And suppose I were to ask you the same question ?" inquired Wilkinson, as he took the hand of the other, who was an old acquaintance.
"It would be easily answered," was the unhesitating reply of Ellis, who had been drinking rather freely.
"Well, suppose I have the benefit of your answer." "You're quite welcome.

I keep no secrets from an old friend, you see.
Can't you guess ?" "I'm not good at guessing." "Had a little tiff with Cara," said Ellis in a half whisper, as he bent to the ear of his companion.
"Oh, no!" returned Wilkinson.
"Fact.

Cara's a dear, good soul, as you know; but she's a self-willed little jade, and if I don't do just as she wants me to--if I don't walk her chalk line--_presto!_ she goes off like a rocket.

To-night, d'ye see, I came home with the first volume of Prescott's new work on Mexico--a perfect romance of a book, and wanted to read it aloud to Cara.

But no, she had something else in her head, and told me, up and down, that she didn't want to hear any of my dull old histories.