as always boasting of his
ability and trustworthiness, and made him his deputy with full power to
act for him. John went to the city and bought the goods for the store
and put the selling price on them. He knew just how much stock there was
on hand. He was a genius in a way, having a remarkable memory, which
relieved him of the trouble of keeping an order book. Gill was the
quickest and shrewdest buyer with whom the wholesalers had to deal.

He was handsome, tall, broad-shouldered, muscular, and always
well-dressed. His mustache and hair were dark, almost black; his eyes
gray.

In the furnishing of his room, which was on the second story of the
store building, a taste almost effeminate was displayed. A stranger
entering it would think a woman dwelt there.

When he went to it after leaving the McAnay ball he sat down, not to
think in superstitious wonder of the strange fancy of Bill Kellar's, but
to recall the words, actions, looks, of the graceful and willowy girl
who had said, "I will, John."

"She has more pride than Queen Elizabeth," he muttered. "No 'Thank you'
to me; but 'I will, John.' Lizzi, you are the comeliest girl I know, and
I have got your promise to be my wife. Well, so much."

Hard, unfeeling words, dictated by passion. Love is tender, generous;
Passion, harsh and selfish. They sit opposite at the same feast. Love
surrenders to the intoxication of the scene, grateful to be allowed
there. Passion glances scornfully at foolish Love and considers his
presence at the banquet a compliment to the giver. Love treasures the
crumbs. Passion wastes basketfuls.

"So far, so good," Gill murmured. "I'll go to Jim Harker to-morrow."

And without one tender thought for the woman, who even then, all
a-tremble with delight at being his betrothed, was uttering a prayer for
him, he threw himself on the bed and went asleep.

Lizzi did not sleep. Gill's declaration of love, as she regarded his
proposition of marriage, had opened the door of the future, and her eyes
were fastened on the scenes that imagination conjured up beyond the
threshold. She lay awake looking at them, all beaming in the sunlight.

"Squire, can you keep a secret?"

James Harker, shoemaker to Three-Sisters, sat in front of his shop,
smoking, when Gill addressed him. The title flattered him, coming from
so influential a person. He was a candidate for the office of Justice of
the Peace. At the polls on the following Tuesday--the McAnay ball was on