THE LAST OF MR.

MEESON.
Augusta turned from the old man with a gesture of impatience not unmixed with disgust.

His selfishness was of an order that revolted her.
"I suppose," she said sharply to Bill, "that I must have this will tattooed upon my shoulders." "Yes, Miss; that's it," said Bill.

"You see, Miss, one wants space for a doccymint.

If it were a ship or a flag, now, or a fancy pictur of your young man, I might manage it on your arm, but there must be breadth for a legal doccymint, more especially as I should like to make a good job of it while I is about it.