h, no, never; they never even get within sight of me."

"Be careful, dear," would advise my mother; "don't overstrain yourself."
But I could see that she was proud of me.

And after awhile imagination came to my help, so that often I could hear
behind me the sound of pursuing feet, catch through gaps in the trees a
sight of a merry, host upon my trail, and would redouble my speed.

Thus, but for Dan, my loneliness would have been unbearable. His
friendship was always there for me to creep to, the shadow of a great
rock in a weary land. To this day one may always know Dan's politics:
they are those of the Party out of power. Always without question one
may know the cause that he will champion, the unpopular cause; the man
he will defend, the man who is down.

"You are such an un-understandable chap," complained a fellow Clubman to
him once in my hearing. "I sometimes ask myself if you have any opinions
at all."

"I hate a crowd," was Dan's only confession of faith.

He never claimed anything from me in return for his affection; he was
there for me to hold to when I wanted him. When, baffled in all my
attempts to win the affections of others, I returned to him for comfort,
he gave it me, without even relieving himself of friendly advice. When
at length childish success came to me and I needed him less, he was
neither hurt nor surprised. Other people--their thoughts, their actions,
even when these concerned himself--never troubled him. He loved to
bestow, but as to response was strangely indifferent; indeed, if
anything, it bored him. His nature appeared to be that of the fountain,
which fulfils itself by giving, but is unable to receive.

My popularity came to me unexpectedly after I had given up hoping for
it; surprising me, annoying me. Gradually it dawned upon me that my
company was being sought.

"Come along, Kelver," would say the spokesman of one group; "we're going
part of your way home. You can walk with us."

Maybe I would go with them, but more often, before we reached the gate,
the delight of my society would be claimed by a rival troop.

"He's coming with us this afternoon. He promised."

"No, he didn't."

"Yes, he did."

"Well, he ain't, anyhow. See?"

"Oh, isn't he? Who says he isn't?"

"I do."

"Punch his head, Dick!"

"Yes, you do, Jimmy Blake, and I'll punch yours. Come, Kelver."

I might have been some Queen of Beauty offered as prize for knightly
contest. Indeed, more than once th