kid. Oh, you can tackle the other proposition all right--dances and
balls and general gold lace glories; but it ain't fine loafers sitting
round in parlors talking about the weather that's going to hold you
very long, when all the time your heart's up and over the back fence
with the kids who are playing the games. And, oh, say!" he broke off
abruptly--"would you think it awfully impertinent of me if I asked you
how you do your hair like that? 'Cause, surer than smoke, after I get
home and supper is over and the dishes are washed and I've just got to
sleep, that little wife of mine will wake me up and say: 'Oh, just
one thing more. How did that lady in the train do her hair?'"

With her chin lifting suddenly in a burst of softly uproarious
delight, the Youngish Girl turned her head half-way around and raised
her narrow, black-gloved hands to push a tortoise-shell pin into
place.

"Why, it's perfectly simple," she explained. "It's just three puffs,
and two curls, and then a twist."

"And then a twist?" quizzed the Traveling Salesman earnestly, jotting
down the memorandum very carefully on the shiny black surface of his
sample-case. "Oh, I hope I ain't been too familiar," he added, with
sudden contriteness. "Maybe I ought to have introduced myself first.
My name's Clifford. I'm a drummer for Sayles & Sayles. Maine and the
Maritime Provinces--that's my route. Boston's the home office. Ever
been in Halifax?" he quizzed a trifle proudly. "Do an awful big
business in Halifax! Happen to know the Emporium store? The London,
Liverpool, and Halifax Emporium?"

The Youngish Girl bit her lip for a second before she answered. Then,