"It would do you worlds of good, brother," assented Marjorie, "to get away from the smoke awhile."
"You know, Jasper, we had planned to go to Paris for the summer and take you along; but we can spare your company this time," said the doting mother, "if it will give you the opportunity to make good."
This inane conversation anent Jasper's future was broken up by a messenger appearing at the door, with a very urgent note from Peter Dieman, requesting Jacob Cobb to come to his mansion without delay. Jacob responded without delay, and was soon sitting by the throne of that spectacular king, who still was wearing his mandarin robe, fez-like cap, and smoking another vile cigar.
"Have you heard the latest, Jacob?" asked Peter, when Jacob was seated comfortably blowing up clouds of white vapor in corresponding rings with Peter's smoke-stack.
"No," answered Jacob, with no uncommon concern.
"Well, be prepared to hear the worst—Jim Dalls is back from Europe, and is going to squeal on us," said Peter, with as little concern as Cobb at first appeared to show.
"No!" exclaimed Jacob, with a cloud on his face that was sufficient almost to obscure the smoke from his cigar.
"It is true," said Peter, still unconcerned. "He was here this evening."
"What brought him back?" said Jacob.
"Run out of funds, he said," said Peter, blowing smoke with much complacency.