me?"

Persis' look indicated understanding rather than approval.

"You can't think worse than I've said to myself a thousand times. I
put the letter in my pocket, and I had it all figured out how she'd
find it and ask me about it, and then read it and be angry for about
half a minute. And I took it for granted that I was going to be right
there to explain and that I'd have the laugh on her before she had the
chance to get to feeling real bad. It looked awful funny to me. It's
a great thing to have a man-size sense of humor."

Persis was too interested to smile.

"Then the weather got warm and I changed to another suit and forgot to
change the letter. I'd laid several little plots to help her to find
it, like sending her to my pocket for postage stamps, but she didn't
fall to 'em, and finally the letter got to be an old story. I pretty
nearly forgot all about it. When she did find it, I was off on a trip
and she'd talked the thing over with all the old women in the
neighborhood before I got back." He ran his fingers through his hair.
"Explain! Well, she thinks it's a mighty slim story, and the deuce of
it is that she's right. Any dam fool could make up a better one."

"I b'lieve you could have done better yourself," Persis suggested
smoothly, "if you'd been in the story business."

The young fellow looked at her, and a quick flush swept to the roots of
his hair.

"That sounds," he began breathlessly, "that sounds as if you took stock
in me in spite of the way things look."

"I've lived long enough to know that looks are deceiving whether you're
talking about women or just things." Persis studied the address again
and compressed her lips. "See that this letter don't get lost, strayed
or stolen," she directed, with that instinctive assumption of authority
which is the badge of the competent. "We might find it useful in
clearing things up."

The young man's ruddy color rose again. "Then you think--" he faltered
and broke off.

"I think that when folks act fair and square, their lives ain't going
to be ruined by a little mistake. Of course it's going to be cleared
up. Careful, Mr. Thompson. You seem to be stepping on a lot of money.
And it must belong to you, because I can't afford to carpet my room
with greenbacks."

His answering laugh showed the contagion of her optimism. Young Mr.
Thompson picked up his money and paid his bill, "I'm going home and
coax Molly into putting on that new dress,