enough of it."

"Go slow, Quaker!" the man rejoined. "If you can't take a joke, I'll
stop jokin'--that settles it. Come along and get a glass of beer, and
you'll feel better."

They soon came to a garden near the lake, and sat down by a little
table at their beer. The consumers were few and silent. The garden was
dimly lighted, for the spring came slowly up that way, and the air was
not yet conducive to out-door idling. The greasy young man laid a dirty
hand on the arm of Sleeny, and said:

"Honor bright, now, old fellow, I didn't mean to rough, you when I said
that. I don't want to hurt your feelings or lose your confidence. I
want you to tell me how you are gettin' along. You ain't got no better
friend than me nowhere."

"Oh," said Sam, sulkily, "I got nothin' to say. She don't no more care
for me than that there mug."

The expression that came over his friend's face at these discouraged
words was not one of sympathetic sorrow. But he put some sympathy into
his voice as he said:

"Jest think of that! Such a fine young fellow as you are, too. Where
can her eyes be? And I seen you walking this evenin' by the lake just
like two robins. And yet you don't get ahead any!"

"Not a step," said Sam.