VOL. XI.

No. 4.

CHAPTER III.

For Sensible People to Skip.

June fastened a pink rose under her chin and turned from the mir

ror.

"I've been wondering" she began, but Fred interrupted her with, "Wonder no longer. The effect is perfect. Wait a minute and I'll write a poem on it. A beautiful poem:

"Yes," answered June, scornfully gazing down on him from her queenly height. "He who would go through fire and water, molasses and other sticky substances for his sweetheart's smile would not cross a little room for his wife's kiss. Oh!"

For a tall figure had shot from the sofa like a cannon ball. June got behind the table.

"Now, Fred, he who lays his hand upon a woman, save in the way of kindness, is a wretch whom 'twere

Herself a fairer rose than that she

wore;

pin To close the plaquet seam which grieves me sore.

"If there is one thing more than another grating to manly eyes it is a gaping skirt. There, you are all right now. A vision for the gods to dream at. Come here and give me a kiss."

"Hear the slave!" said June. "A month ago he went down on his knees to salute the tip of my nose. Now he stretches himself lazily on a couch and orders a vision for the gods to dream at to come and kiss him!"

"Possession makes a peculiar difference with men," said Fred.

Fred, walking round and round. the table after her, answered not a word.

All at once he stood still. June halted on her side.

"Woman," he said sternly, "thine hour is come."

He disappeared under the table and seized her foot.

June, choking with laughter at the sudden, undignified assault and the triumphant red face grinning up from the floor, surrendered unconditionally and received exactly thirtyseven kisses; five on her forehead, seven on her eyes, eleven on her cheeks, and fourteen on her delicious. mouth. If you think that this is

overdrawn, appeal to any young husband who loves the girl he married. Fred threw himself on the sofa again, lying far back against the wall so as to leave a wide margin for June to sit on. She was for turning her back upon him, but he said.

""Tis not time for the sun to go down, sweetheart."

At which pretty compliment she turned her face.

"Now let us talk on scientific subjects," he said. "How much do you love me?"

"Two shillings' worth," she answered, holding out her hand.

"You mercenary little wretch! What do you do with all your money? I gave you sixpence yesterday."

"I bought a diamond ring and a bracelet with part of that and am saving the rest to get a divorce."

"And then you'll marry one of your old flames?"

She nodded her head gravely up and down.

"How many did you have?" he asked.

"O, too many to count." "Tell me about them." "Won't it pain you?" she asked roguishly, "You know I loved each one far better than I do you."

"Bend over and give me a teenyweeny little kiss before you begin, to take away the sting."

"But it's your ears that will be hurt, and I don't want to kiss you on your ears. Now be good and don't interrupt me with irrelevant remarks. Number one was the butcher boy who was willing to choose the meat and pay for it too to the end of his natural born days, if I would only fry it for him."

"Humph."

"Number two was the washerwoman's son. He was very fond of me. but my pride was something enor mous, you know. It prevented my young affections from flowing too abundantly. Isn't it romantic?" "Blood curdling!"

"Number three wanted me to elope with him. He had two dollars and fifty cents and a wealth of affection. I had my beauty and a string of gold beads. We were to flee to Ogden. The two-fifty, he judged, would keep us in luxury for a month at least, by which time he hoped our stern parents would relent. If they remained inflexible, we were to sell the gold beads and go to Italy."

"And still you have not written a book! Go on.”

"Number four spent nine dollars on a red plush photograph album with celluloid mermaids on it. On Christmas morning he put it behind. the door as a surprise for me. I gave him a heliotrope hat lining embroidered with chenille daisies. We went outdoors for a game of snowball. He washed my face and I put a handful of snow in his neck. It limbered his collar. He got cross and said that he wouldn't keep company with me no more.' As he joined a crowd of boys down the street he said, There's nine dollars gone to the devil.' He gave the hat lining to his sister. She used it for an iron holder. I sent back the album. He gave it to his other girl next Christmas."

"Your tale grows weird, fair lady. Prithee continue."

"Number five was a very nice young man indeed. We used to go for street car rides; it was when we lived in the city, you know. One day I wanted to pay his fare instead of his paying mine. When the conductor came in I whispered for the eightieth time, Mayn't I?' In desperation he answered, 'Yes, if you must.' I paid. But I didn't like him any more.

"Number six was lord high everything of nincompoop parish. One day he took his club for a drive in the country and favored me with a special invitation under his escort. I was the one stranger in the company. We had dinner at a farm house and then drove back. On the return trip, my lord climbed into another seat. Each person was to be driven to his own home. After

two or three were out, my beau ideal ordered the driver to take him home next. Then he got out and said a general bood-bye without even glanc ing at me. This was to show them all how indifferent he was to me. rode home without him and have been without him ever since."

1

"He was a cad!" said Fred hotly. "No," corrected June. "He was simply an eccentric young man whose judgment and good manners were not equal to his conceit."

"I suppose you think that a much less vigorous statement than mine," said Fred. "Everybody to his own opinion. Any more cases?"

"Number seven had eyes like an angel's and curly hair. I thought it would be concentrated heaven to marry him."

"And what changed your mind?" "He proposed," answered June demurely. "And I suddenly found out that I didn't want him after all. It often happens that way."

"Rather enjoyable for the fellow, I should say," grunted Fred, with a sympathizing sigh for his suffering

sex.

"It didn't hurt him one bit, really," said June. "Three months after he was married to one of the sweetest little girls on earth, and like the prince in the fairly tale, has lived happy ever since."

"And number eight?"

"Number eight was also goodlooking, but he hardly ever spoke. You can imagine how I looked forward to his visits. Sometimes when I saw him coming I would get under

"You little rascal! Did you ever get under the bed when you saw me coming?"

"Not once, Frederick. I used to stand by the gate and watch for you. would give a queer little leap and When you came in sight my heart then stand still for fear you might not come straight on. And if you hadn't," she whispered bending over until her bright head rested on his shirt bosom, "I should have cried my eyes out, that's all."

There was an active pause for five minutes. Then June sat up and said.

"I haven't finished telling you about number eight. One night I could not sleep. The next day I walked seven miles up the canyon for floral specimens. That evening I was rather tired. I did not expect my speechless knight, but he came. I did my best for awhile, but gradualy succumbed to that tired feeling. We communed silently with our own souls for some thirty minutes and then-"

June paused.

"And then?" prompted Fred.

"Well," said June, keeping back her laughter with an effort, "when I woke up he was standing by me with his hat in his hand looking rather crushed. And that was the end," she moaned pathetically.

"Ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha," roared Fred. "June Melrose, you didn't! Oh, oh, oh! Honestly now, is that true?"

"Honestly now, yes it is."

"What a duffer the fellow must have been not to have played prince to the sleeping beauty; ah," with a sudden inspiration and a burst of righteous anger, "perhaps he did. If he did I'll. Did he?"