were a young man with
some enterprise, but if you lose your courage over such an every-day
affair as proposing to a girl--"

"But men don't propose every day."

"Somebody is proposing to somebody every day. It goes on all the time.
No, sir; I wash my hands of it. I'll not withdraw my consent, and you
have my moral support and encouragement, but getting married is the same
as getting into trouble--you have to handle your own case."

"But, Mr. Putnam--"

"You'll only go over the same ground again. Good morning. I don't want
to hear any more of this until it is settled one way or the other. I'll
not help and I'll not hinder. It--It's up to you."

With this colloquial farewell Mr. Putnam waved his hand and turned to
his papers. Jimmy accumulated his hat and stick, and left, barren of
hope.

That night he took Lucy to see "Romeo and Juliet." The confidence and
enthusiasm of _Romeo_ merely threw him into a deeper despair of his own
ability as a suitor, and made him even more taciturn and stumbling of
speech than ever. His silence grew heavier and heavier, until at last
Lucy threw out her never-failing life-line. She asked him about his
cousin Mary.

"By the way," he said, brightening up, "Cousin Mary is going through
here one day next week."

"Is she? How I should like to know her. If she is anything like you she
must be very agreeable."

"She isn't like me, but she is agreeable. Won't you let me try to bring
you two together--at lunch down-town, or something like that?"

"It would be fine."

"I'll do it. I'll arrange it just as soon as I see her."

Then silence, pall-like, fell again upon them. Jimmy thought of _Romeo_,
and Lucy thought of--_Romeo_, let us say. When a young man and a young
woman, who are the least bit inclined one to another, witness
Shakespeare's great educative effort, the young woman can not help
imagining herself leaning over the balcony watching the attempts of the
young man to clamber up the rope ladder.

After he had gone that night, Lucy sat down for a soul communion with
herself. Pity the woman who does not have soul communions. She who can
sit side by side with herself and make herself believe that she is
perfectly right and proper in thinking and believing as she does, is
happy. The first question Lucy Putnam put to her subliminal self was:
"Do I love Jimmy?" Subliminal self, true to sex, equivocated. It said:
"I am not sure." Whereupon Lucy asked: "Why do I love him?" Then ensued