"A hand-paintin', then," he ventured timidly.

I smiled on this with more approval.

"They have some be-yutiful ones at Hopedale," he said with more heart.
"The last time I was down I was lookin' at 'em. They've fine gold
frames and----"

"Why send her a picture of a tree when the finest oak in the valley is
at her door?" I protested. "Why send her a picture of a slate-colored
cow when a herd of Durhams pastures every day right under her eye?"

"That's true," Perry answered. "Hand-paintin's is meant for city
folks. But what can a fellow get? A statue!" His eyes brightened.
"That's just the thing--a statue of Washington or Lincoln or General
Grant--how's that for an idee, Mark?"

"Excellent, if you are trying to make an impression on her uncle," I
answered.

Perry shook his hands despairingly.

"You have come to a poor person at such business, Perry," said I.
"What little I know of courting I have from books, and it seems to me
that the usual thing is flowers--violets--roses."

My friend straightened up in his chair and gazed at me very long and
hard. From me his eyes wandered to the calendar that hung behind my
desk.