"I'll never tell," promised the young lover.
"And here's another thing: Don't you ever let on to Mr. Diggs that I'm over twenty-six. If you do, I'll tell your pa that you're using his razor, and—well, say, that would be a mortification for you. Miss Fairweather would never get over laughing at you. Do you know, I'm awfully sorry for Mr. Flanders. He is a fine fellow, and it will break his heart if you get her away from him, Freddie. It seems too bad for a rich young gentleman like you to be pitted against a poor, struggling newspaper man whose heart is afire with—"
"Oh, gee, Melissa, don't talk like that," cried Frederick in distress. "I DO like him, and I don't want him to ever be unhappy."
"That's the way to talk," she cried warmly. "That's regular nobility. Let's give him an equal chance, Freddie. If he can win, all well and good. We'll take our medicine. If he loses, why he can take his."
"I wish I was as old as he is," mourned Frederick.
"Poor fellow," sighed Melissa, wiping an imaginary tear from her eye. "I DO feel sorry for him. I hate to see a fine, honourable gentleman's heart busted as you are likely to bust his for—"
"Oh, goodness!" gulped Frederick, his soul filled with pity for the unfortunate Flanders. He suppressed a sniffle, and then, after a moment consumed in re-ordering his emotions, went on brightly: "Of course, if she loves him, Melissa, I shall be the first to wish him joy. That's the kind of fellow I am."
"I wonder," mused Melissa, "if that's the kind of a fellow he'd be if some other fellow won his lady love away from him in a fair contest?"
It so happened that Mr. Flanders placed a diamond-ring upon the third finger of Miss Fairweather's left hand that same afternoon, and it also happened that the starry-eyed young lady submitted to a tender embrace immediately afterward. But a fortnight passed before Frederick, pale and wan with the anguish that lay in his young soul, could command the courage to go up to his big rival and wish him joy. For two weeks his heart had bled, for, be it also recorded, young Frederick happened to be lurking unseen in the library when the ring was passed. He saw the big man take the slim, adored princess in his arms, and he saw her face upturned to greet the lips that came down to meet her's in—Alas! Poor Frederick!
Right bravely he accosted Mr. Flanders one day as the brisk young man came swinging up the drive on his way from the railway station. Flanders usually came at three in the afternoon. This habit was known to Frederick. He also knew that the tall conqueror spent an hour with Mr. Bingle before Miss Fairweather descended from the school-room. In fact, every movement of Mr. Flanders from the instant he appeared on the estate to the moment he left it in a dash for the train, was known to the small victim of the green-eyed devil.