I knew 'twas a wile, unless
The print of the nail was there!
MARGARET J. PRESTON.
THE LONG FELLOW OF TI.
Colman put down his book and looked about the parlors and piazzas of the hotel, and went and spoke to the barkeeper: "Have you seen Mr. Field lately?"
"No: he hasn't been in here since supper."
Colman went out and walked down toward the head of the lake. Passing out of the shadow of the trees, the open shore was before him, and the wharf at some distance, with the tiny steamer, the Wanita, lying by it in the moonlight. There was some one coming along the sandy road, and Colman leaned against a tree and waited for him. The dark side of the boat was toward him, and though it was quite late, a light showed in one of her windows. When the person on the beach came near Colman, he turned and stood watching the light till it went out, and then came on. Colman stepped out, and the comer said, "Halloa, Phil! is that you? You startled me. Going in?"
Philip only nodded, and they walked back to the house together, Field whistling absently. They went up to their room, and Field sat by the window while Colman struck a light.
"Dan," said Philip abruptly, "I want you to come on with me to-morrow."