"How now, Tommy, what's to pay? It isn't possible your firm has failed and foreclosed? What are you all bolted and barred at this time of day for?"
Tommy arched his eyebrows.
"Have you been out of town, sir?" he asked, in a tone which plainly said, "It isn't possible that you've been in town and not heard the cause of this closed store?"
"Just so," answered the good-natured gentleman. "I've been West, and I want to see Messrs. Stephens and Mallery in a twinkling."
"Can't do it," said Tommy, promptly, and with the air of a policeman. "They are otherwise engaged, both of them—all three of them, I may say. Mr. Hastings is in it, too. There's been a double wedding. Haven't you heard of it, sir?"
"Not a word," answered his listener, with commendable gravity. "They've been as whist as mice. Tell us all about it."
"Well, sir, it was to-day at twelve o'clock, in the First Church—Dr. Birge's, you know. He married 'em. Splendid ceremony, too! and they looked—well, they all looked just grand, I tell you!"
"Don't doubt it in the least, Tommy, but who the mischief were they?"
"Why, Mr. Mallery and Miss Hastings, and Mr. Hastings and Miss Winny McPherson, and they're both of our firm, you know; at least Mr. Hastings he's our confidential clerk now, and we all say that he'll be partner one of these days, as sure as guns. We all went to the wedding, every one of us, cash boys and all; then we all went to Mr. Stephens', and had just the grandest kind of a dinner with the brides and grooms. And Dr. Birge and Mr. Ryan they toasted them."
"Wine or brandy?" interposed the gentleman, slily.