The old man gave him a look of despairing reproach, but in a moment the foreman's voice was heard: "Oh, Mr.Fisbee, can you step here a second ?" "Yes, indeed!" was Fisbee's reply; and he fled guiltily into the "store-room," and Parker closed the door.

They stood knee-deep in the clutter and lumber, facing each other abjectly.
"Well, we're both done, anyway, Mr.Fisbee," remarked the foreman.
"Indubitably, Mr.Parker," the old man answered; "it is too true." "Never to think a blame thing about dinner for her!" Parker continued, remorsefully.

"And her a lady that can turn off copy like a rotary snowplough in a Dakota blizzard! Did you see the sheets she's piled up on that desk ?" "There is no cafe--nothing--in Plattville, that could prepare food worthy of her," groaned Fisbee.

"Nothing!" "And we never thought of it.

Never made a single arrangement.