ay
morning, and--"

"Make it Tuesday night."

Pert assented with an audible chuckle.

And now they had come to the fallen tree, an ancient pine of huge
dimensions. Checkers clambered atop of it, and, taking both of Perl's
hands, pulled her up; then, from the other side, he supported her
tenderly as she jumped to the ground. 'Twas a rapturous moment. The
fair, sweet face above him, and the bright, roguish eyes looking down
into his; the warm, red lips, half parted in a smile, and coming so
near as he carefully lowered her, tempted him sorely. But he resisted;
not from any strength of virtue, but because he did not dare to do
otherwise.

"Thank you," said Pert. Checkers was silent. His emotions of mingled
excitement and regret were such that he could not trust his voice; but
as they drew near to where Arthur and Sadie were sitting, he purposely
drew away from Pert, and feigned a look of general indifference, which
was masterly in its way.

"I may possibly stay down to-night, Arthur," called Checkers, as he
drove out of the door-yard Tuesday morning.

Tuesday night found him seated with Pert in the cozy, old-fashioned
little sitting-room, before the blazing embers of a large, wood fire,
for it had suddenly turned cold.

Checkers had brought up the illustrated papers, and with these and the
banjo, with nuts and apples, pop-corn and cider, for refection, time
sped merrily on.

Now, just how it all came about that night, Checkers never adequately
explained to me. He always claimed, shamefacedly, to have a confused
recollection of the matter. But suffice it to say, there came an
opportunity, and, forgetting his former resolutions, forgetting his
poverty--everything, he told as best he could the story of his love to
the listening girl beside him. What matter how he told it? She cared
not for that, so long as the tale rang true to her ears; and of
Checkers' whole-hearted sincerity, there was never a doubt, as after
events proved.

The strangeness of a woman's love has been a prolific source of wonder
and remark for philosophers of every age. It should not, therefore,
seem incongruous that Checkers, penniless, slangy, illiterate, should
have won, in a few, short weeks, the love of a girl whom Arthur, a
higher type, from a worldly standpoint, had tried for years to make his
own, without success. Perhaps the explanation lay in the fact that
Checkers possessed two qualities in which Arthur was wholly
lackin