coloring, and her well-cared-for hair beneath the smart summer hat.

[Illustration: "Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers," he
announced, glibly.]

"It isn't in human nature to be as good-looking as you are," spake
Emma McChesney, suddenly, being a person who never trifled with half-
way measures. "I'll bet you have bad teeth, or an impediment in your
speech."

The gorgeous young man smiled. His teeth were perfect. "Peter Piper
picked a peck of pickled peppers," he announced, glibly. "Nothing
missing there, is there?"

"Must be your morals then," retorted Emma McChesney. "My! My! And on
the road! Why, the trail of bleeding hearts that you must leave all
the way from Maine to California would probably make the Red Sea turn
white with envy."

The Fresh Young Kid speared a piece of liver and looked soulfully up
into the adoring eyes of the waitress who was hovering over him. "Got
any nice hot biscuits to-night, girlie?" he inquired.

"I'll get you some; sure," wildly promised his handmaiden, and
disappeared kitchenward.

"Brand new to the road, aren't you?" observed Emma McChesney, cruelly.

"What makes you think--"