t grace you can
command. Do not be the fool to think her lips will veto her heart.

If, on the contrary, there comes the glad day when over the throbbing
unseen wire there comes a telepagram sounding the letters "Y-E-S,"
proceed with the sweet formality of a verbal avowal of your love, and
you will not be disappointed.

Smile if you will, John Henry Smith, you know I have told the truth.

We have sent a few of these messages to Miss Harding, and thus far none
have been returned unopened. As you say, John Henry, they have been very
timid ones, and possibly are so vague she does not think them worth even
a decided negative. We will send more emphatic ones; not too emphatic,
mind you, but couched in symbols which cannot be misunderstood.

That is our best plan, John Henry Smith, don't you think so? I am glad
we agree at last. As yet nothing has happened of a character positively
discouraging.

Carter? I wish you would not mention his name. From this on we will
ignore Carter.

I intended to write of our automobile trip, but the hour is late and I
must postpone it until some other time. Good night, John Henry Smith!

ENTRY NO. XV

THE AUTO AND THE BULL

I started to tear out what I wrote last night, but on second thought
will let it remain. Its perusal in future years may amuse me. I will now
resume the trail of Woodvale happenings.

The touring car won from her father by Miss Harding is a massive and
beautiful machine. Luckily I am familiar with the mechanism of this
particular make, and, as a consequence, am called in for advice when any
trifling question arises. Harding scorns a professional chauffeur.

"Next to running one of these road engines," he declares, "the most fun
is in pulling them apart to see how they are made. I would as soon hire
a man to eat for me as to shawf one of these choo-choo cars."

Shortly after the big machine arrived Mr. Harding received a letter from
a gentleman named Wilson, who is spending the summer at the Oak Cliff
Golf and Country Club. Wilson challenged him to come to Oak Cliff and
play golf, and to bring his family and a party of friends with him.
Harding read the letter and laughed.

"Here's my chance to win a game," he declared. "I can't beat the Kid,
but I'll put it all over Wilson, you see if I don't."

"Don't be too sure, papa," cautioned Miss Harding.

"Wilson only started golf this year, and the only game he can beat me at
is hanging up pictures," insiste