and seemingly a good deal upset. "My dear young lady, I realize that I'm
twice your age and more, and I suppose that I was an old fool to hope;
but I've had trouble lately, and I've been very lonely, and you have
been so kind that I thought--I did hope--I--Can't you?"

"No," says she, more nervous than ever, and shaky, too, but decided.
"No! Oh, NO! It's all my fault. I wanted you to like me; I wanted you to
like me very much. But not this way. I'm--I'm--so sorry. Please forgive
me."

She walked on then, fast, and toward the grove, and he followed,
slashing at the weeds with his cane, and acting a good deal as if he'd
like to pick up his playthings and go home. When they was out of sight I
set up and winked, large and comprehensive, at the scenery. It looked to
me like I was going to collect Jonadab's quarter.

That night as I passed the lilac bushes by the gate, somebody steps out
and grabs my arm. I jumped, looked up, and there, glaring down at me out
of the clouds, was friend Jones from Providence, R. I.

"Wingate," he whispers, fierce, "who is the man? And where is he?"

"Easy," I begs. "Easy on that arm. I might want to use it again. What
man?"

"That man you wrote me about. I've come down here to interview him.
Confound him! Who is he?"

"Oh, it's all right now," says I. "There was an old rooster from New
York who was acting too skittish to suit me, but I guess it's all off.