ments in which she delighted so much. And yet he could not go on as a General Manager simply for the happiness of Miss Whippet.
In the foliage of the geranium, where he knew she would find it the first thing in the morning, he left a note:—
Miss Whippet: I am leaving the store to-night and will not be back. Please notify Mr. Beagle. Explain to him that I shall never take a position with one of his competitors; I am leaving not because I didn't enjoy the job, but because if I stayed longer I might enjoy it too much. Tell Mr. Beagle that I specially urge him to retain you as assistant to the new Manager, whoever that may be. You are entirely competent to attend to the routine, and the new Manager can spend all his time at business lunches.
Please inform the Display Managers' Club that I can't speak at their meeting to-morrow.
I wish you all possible good-fortune.
As he passed through the dim and silent aisles of the store, he surveyed them again with mixed emotions. Here he might, apparently, have been king. But he had no very poignant regret. Another of his numerous selves, he reflected, had committed suicide. That was the right idea: to
