Nattie murmured something about the time passing pleasanter when there was some one to talk with, and Cyn asked, curiously,
"Then you have left the dot and dash business, have you?"
"Oh, yes. It was merely temporary with me," Clem replied; then seating himself on the sofa beside Nattie, and drawing a chair up for Cyn, between himself and Jo—Quimby being at the other end of the room, a prey to his emotions—Clem continued;
"The truth of the matter is simply this, my father, with a pig-headedness worthy of Eugene Wrayburn's M. R. F. in 'Our Mutual Friend,' determined to make a doctor of me, not on account of any qualifications of mine, but for the simple reason that a doctor is a good thing to have in a family. But I, having an intense dislike to the smell of drugs, a repugnance to knowing anything more than absolutely necessary about the 'ills that flesh is heir to,' and decided objections to having the sleep of my future life disturbed, declined, and at the same time expressed a desire to go into the store with him, and become a merchant. Upon which my most immediate ancestor waxed wroth, called me, in plain, unvarnished words, a fool; and a pretty one I was to set myself up against his will! I, who couldn't earn my salt without him to back me! Being of a contrary opinion myself, I determined to test my abilities in the salt line. I began," looking at Nattie, merrily, "by salting you!"—then explaining to Cyn, Jo, and the silent Quimby, "'Salt' is a term operators use, when one tries to send faster than the other can receive. I began my acquaintance with N by trying to 'salt' her. To go on with my narrative, I had learned to telegraph at college, where the boys had private wires from room to room, and being acquainted with one of the managers in our city, succeeded in obtaining that very undesirable office down there at X n, where I remained until my stern parent relented, concluded to hire a doctor instead of making one, and offered me the control of a branch of the firm here in your city. And here I am!"
"And isn't it strange how you should have stumbled upon us, feast and all?" said Cyn, laughing.
Nattie was again disturbed by the plural pronoun, and also angry at herself for observing it.
"Isn't it?" Clem answered merrily; "what a lucky fellow I am! You see, not being at all acquainted in the city, I hunted up my old college friend Quimby, who asked me to call on some lady friends of his, mentioning no names, which of course I was only too glad to do! Imagine my surprise and delight when I discovered who those friends were! But I don't know as I should have dared to reveal myself, having been so often snubbed,"—With a roguish glance at Nattie— "if that story had not been told and the mystery solved. Imagine my dismay, though, at being called an 'odious creature,' and the surprise with which I listened to my own description! So earnest were you, that I actually, for a moment, thought my hair must have turned red!" and he ran his fingers through his curly locks with a rueful face.
The girls laughed, and Cyn exclaimed,
"What a pity it is you tore up that picture, Nat!"
"Yes," acquiesced Nattie, adding, in explanation, to Clem— "You remember that pen and ink sketch? My first act of vengeance was to destroy it!"