t she could find, and 'a' fetched
'em to me as pleased and proud as a puppy, expecting, for all the
world, to be petted and patted for her astonishing shrewdness. And
there would sure have been gloom in the Sabbath.

"But now--now--what I say now is: 'Wife, I'm going to bring Ella down
for Sunday. You've never seen her, and you sure will hate her. She's
big, and showy, and just a little bit rough sometimes, and she rouges
her cheeks too much, and she's likelier than not to chuck me under the
chin. But it would help your old man a lot in a business way if you'd
be pretty nice to her. And I'm going to send her down here Friday, a
day ahead of me.'--And oh, gee!--I ain't any more than jumped off the
car Saturday night when there's my little wife out on the street
corner with her sweater tied over her head, prancing up and down first
on one foot and then on the other--she's so excited, to slip her hand
in mine and tell me all about it. 'And Johnny,' she says--even before
I've got my glove off--'Johnny,' she says, 'really, do you know, I
think you've done Ella an injustice. Yes, truly I do. Why, she's _just
as kind_! And she's shown me how to cut my last year's coat over into
the nicest sort of a little spring jacket! And she's made us a
chocolate cake as big as a dish-pan. Yes, she has! And Johnny, don't
you dare tell her that I told you--but do you know she's putting her
brother's boy through Dartmouth? And you old Johnny Clifford, I don't
care a darn whether she rouges a little bit or not--and you oughtn't
to care--either! So there!'"

With sudden tardy contrition the Salesman's amused eyes wandered to
the open book on the Youngish Girl's lap.

"I sure talk too much," he muttered. "I guess maybe you'd like half a
chance to read your story."

The expression on the Youngish Girl's face was a curious mixture of
humor and seriousness. "There's no special object in reading," she
said, "when you can hear a bright man talk!"

As unappreciatingly as a duck might shake champagne from its back, the
Traveling Salesman shrugged the compliment from his shoulders.

"Oh, I'm bright enough," he grumbled, "but I ain't refined." Slowly
to the tips of his ears mounted a dark red flush of real
mortification.

"Now, there's some traveling men," he mourned, "who are as slick and
fine as any college president you ever saw. But me? I'd look coarse
sipping warm milk out of a gold-lined spoon. I haven't had any
education. And I'm fat, bes