hrow the
handkerchief-ball into the window, and he said he could, and took
the handkerchief, but a brighter idea came to me, and I turned to the
eloping young lady.

"Let me have your handkerchief, if it has your initials on it," I said;
"for when he sees that fall into his room he will know you are here. He
will not think you are forward, coming to him alone, for he will know
you could never have thrown the handkerchief, even if loaded with
acorns, to such a height. It will be your message to him."

At this, which I do pride myself was a suggestion worthy of myself,
all were delighted, and while I modestly tied twelve acorns in the
handkerchief on which were the initials "T. M. C.," all the others
cheered. Even the woman from whom I had received the three auburn-red
curls cheered, and the baby that was half-filled out of the patent
nursing-bottle crowed with joy. But the chauffeur honked his honker.
Lemuel took the handkerchief full of acorns in his hand and drew back
his famous left arm, when suddenly Theodora Mitchell Corwin--for that
was the eloping young lady's name--shrieked, and looking up we saw her
lover at the window. He gave an answering yell and disappeared, and
Lemuel let his left arm fall and handed me the handkerchief-ball.

In the excitement I dropped it into my pocket, and it was not until I
was on the car for Westcote that I discovered it, and then, not wishing
to be any later in getting home, I did not go back to give it to
Theodora Mitchell Corwin; in fact, I did not know where she had eloped
to. Nor could I give it to Madge or Henry, for they had gone on their
wedding journey as soon as they saw Theodora and her lover safely
eloped.

I had no right to give it to the poor woman with the baby, even if
she had not immediately disappeared into her world of poverty, and it
certainly did not belong to Lemuel, nor could I have given it to him,
for he took the ten dollars the lover gave him and stayed out so late
that he was late to work this morning and was discharged. He said he was
going back to Texas. So I brought the handkerchief and the twelve acorns
home, knowing you would be interested in hearing their story.

When Mr. Billings had thus finished his relation of the happenings of
his long evening, Mrs. Billings was thoughtful for a minute. Then she
said:

"But Rollin, when I spoke to you of the handkerchief and the twelve
acorns you blushed, and said you had reason to blush. I see nothing in