"Miss Dutton," he began, tentatively, "is aware, Jasperson, of your--
er--passion for her?"

"She ain't no sech a thing," said the lover.

"Yet her eye," continued Ajax, "is keen--keen and penetrating."

"It's a peach," cried the enthusiastic poet. "There ain't another like
it in the land, but it can't see in the dark; an', boys, I've not
shown my hand--yet!"

"You've made no advances directly or indirectly?"

"Not a one. By golly! I--I dassn't. I jest didn't know how. I ain't up
to the tricks. You air, of course; but I'm not."

My brother somewhat confusedly hastened to assure Jasperson that his
knowledge of the sex was quite elementary, and gleaned for the most
part from a profound study of light literature.

The poet grinned derisively. "You ain't no tenderfoot," he said. "I
reckon that what you don't know about the girls ain't worth picklin'."

"Well, if you mean business," said Ajax didactically, "if nothing we
can say or do will divert your mind from courtship and matrimony--if,
my dear Jasperson, you are prepared to exchange the pleasant places,
the sunny slopes, and breezy freedom of bachelor life for the thorny
path that leads to the altar, and thence to--er--the cradle, if, in
short, you are determined to own a best girl, why, then the first and