derful to behold come over the ex-puncher's face. "The lad has
hit it," he said to himself in astonishment; aloud he grunted
"hunh" scornfully, and aroused himself for an unnecessary joke or
two.

Miss Mattie had noticed the "attack of stillness" and immediately
tried to fasten the blame upon herself. What had she done? She
couldn't recall anything. She remembered she had said something
about the way his hair looked with the moon shining on it; perhaps
he had taken offence at that; the remark was entirely
complimentary, but sometimes people are touchy about such things;
still that was not the least like Cousin Will. She must have said
or done something though--what could it be? Oh what a pitiful
memory that could not recollect an injury done to one's best
friend! She tossed and wondered over it for a long time before at
length she tell asleep.

Red also looked up at the roof, and took account of stock. His
face was radiant in the dark. "If I could only pull that off!" he
thought. "I must seem an awful rough cuss to her, though; all
right for a cousin, but it's different when you come to the other
proposition. My Jiminy! I'll take a chance in the morning and
find out anyhow!" said he, and, eased in mind by the decision of
action, he too shook hands with Morpheus and was presently dreaming.

It had never occurred to Red Saunders that he was afraid of
anybody. He even chuckled, when he got Lettis out of the way with
a plausible excuse the next morning. Then he strode briskly into
the house, his question on his lips in a plump out-and-out form.

Miss Mattie looked at him with her slow smile. "What is it?" she
asked.

Red swallowed his question whole. "I--I wanted a little hot water
to shave with," said he. Then a fury took hold of him. "What the
devil am I lying like this for?" he thought. He exhorted himself
to go on and say what he had to say like a man; but the other Red
Saunders refused to do anything of the sort. He took the cup of
hot water most abjectly and fled from the house. He had to shave
then, and in his hurry and indignation he turned the operation into
a clinic. "Oh Jiminy! Look at that!" he cried, as the razor
opened up another part of the subject. "There's a slit an inch
long! If I keep on at this gait, I won't have face enough to say
good morning, let alone what I want to do. What ails me? What
ails me? Why should I be scart of the nicest woman God ever built?
Now by all