got to sit up with me this evening, anyhow."

"But what would folks say?" stammered ARCHIBALD. "Oh, think of my
reputation, Miss BRUMMET, and let me go."

"Your reputation!" she sneered. "Humbug! Men don't have any reputation,
except when they steal a woman's. Come," she added, in a more
conciliatory tone, "we'll have some supper, and then we'll have a game
of euchre."

"Euchre! Oh, don't ask me to play euchre," said he; "I'm so mixed up,
Miss BRUMMET, I couldn't tell the King of Ten-spots from the Ace of
Jacks. Oh, won't BELINDA grab hold of my hair when she hears of this!"

"Yes, she'll pull it till she makes her ARCHIE-_bald_," said ANN,
laughing.

ARCHIBALD sat down, and looked at her in a supplicating manner.

"I'll do anything you say," said he, "if you please won't get off any
more puns. It's awful. I knew a fellow once who had it chronic. He
doubled every word that he could lay his tongue to. When he was going to
a party, he'd take the dictionary and pick out a lot of words that could
be twisted, and set 'em down and study on 'em, so he could be ready with
a lot of puns, and when he got 'em off folks would laugh, but all the
time they'd wish he'd died young. And that's the way he'd go on. He
finally drove his mother into a consumption, and at her funeral, instead
of taking on as he ought to, he only just looked at the body, and said,
'Well, that's the worst _coffin-fit_ the old lady ever had.' And then he
turned round and began to get off puns on the mourners. Wasn't it