t arms stole around his neck, a childish, tear-wet
cheek was pressed close to his, and a sweet voice whispered, tenderly:
"Dear, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry I can't live another minute unless you tell
me you forgive me!"

* * * * *

"Am I really a loafer?" asked Harlan, half an hour later.

"Indeed you're not," answered Dorothy, her trustful eyes looking straight
into his; "you're absolutely the most adorable boy in the whole world, and
it's me that knows it!"

"As long as you know it," returned Harlan, seriously, "I don't care a hang
what other people think."

"Now, tell me," continued Dorothy, "how near are we to being broke?"

Obediently, Harlan turned his pockets inside out and piled his worldly
wealth on the table.

"Three hundred and seventy-four dollars and sixteen cents," she said, when
she had finished counting. "Why, we're almost rich, and a little while ago
you tried to make me think we were poor!"

"It's all I have, Dorothy--every blooming cent, except one dollar in the
savings bank. Sort of a nest egg I had left," he explained.

"Wait a minute," she said, reaching down into her collar and drawing up a
loop of worn ribbon. "Straight front corset," she observed, flushing,
"makes a nice pocket for almost everything." She drew up a chamois-skin
bag, of an unprepossessing mouse colour, and emptied out a roll of bills.
"Two hundred and twelve dollars," she said, proudly, "and eighty-three
cents and four postage stamps in my purse.

"I saved it," she continued, hastily, "for an emergency, and I wanted some
silk stockings and a French embroidered corset and some handmade lingerie
worse than you can ever know. Wasn't I a brave, heroic, noble woman?"

"Indeed you were," he cried, "but, Dorothy, you know I can't touch your
money!"

"Why not?" she demanded.

"Because--because--because it isn't right. Do you think I'm cad enough to
live on a woman's earnings?"

"Harlan," said Dorothy, kindly, "don't be a fool. You'll take my whole
heart and soul and life--all that I have been and all that I'm going to
be--and be glad to get it, and now you're balking at ten cents that I
happened to have in my stocking when I took the fatal step."

"Dear heart, don't. It's different--tremendously different. Can't you see
that it is?"

"Do you mean that I'm not worth as much as two hundred and twelve dollars
and eighty-three cents and four postage stamps?"

"Darling, you're worth