aults."

Mr. Sapling gave an inarticulate gurgle and a roseate
flush swept over his countenance as he surrendered his
palm to the grasp of the fair enchantress.

"Oh, you're just full of faults, just full of them, Mr.
Sapling!" she cried.

Mr. Sapling looked it.

"To begin with," said the beautiful girl, slowly and
reflectingly, "you are dreadfully cynical: you hardly
believe in anything at all, and you've utterly no faith
in us poor women."

The feeble smile that had hitherto kindled the features
of Mr. Sapling into a ray of chastened imbecility, was
distorted in an effort at cynicism.

"Then your next fault is that you are too determined;
much too determined. When once you have set your will on
any object, you crush every obstacle under your feet."

Mr. Sapling looked meekly down at his tennis shoes, but
began to feel calmer, more lifted up. Perhaps he had been
all these things without knowing it.

"Then you are cold and sarcastic."

Mr. Sapling attempted to look cold and sarcastic. He
succeeded in a rude leer.

"And you're horribly world-weary, you care for nothing.
You have drained philosophy to the dregs, and scoff at
everything."

Mr. Sapling's inner feeling was that from now on he would
simply scoff and scoff and scoff.

"Your only redeeming quality is that you are generous.
You have tried to kill even this, but cannot. Yes,"
concluded the beautiful girl, "those are your faults,
generous still, but cold, cynical, and relentless. Good
night, Mr. Sapling."

And resisting all entreaties the beautiful girl passed
from the verandah of the hotel and vanished.

And when later in the evening the brother of the beautiful
girl borrowed Mr. Sapling's tennis racket, and his bicycle
for a fortnight, and the father of the beautiful girl
got Sapling to endorse his note for a couple of hundreds,
and her uncle Zephas borrowed his bedroom candle and used
his razor to cut up a plug of tobacco, Mr. Sapling felt
proud to be acquainted with the family.

Winter Pastimes

It is in the depth of winter, when the intense cold
renders it desirable to stay at home, that the really
Pleasant Family is wont to serve invitations upon a few
friends to spend a Quiet Evening.

It is at these gatherings that that gay thing, the indoor
winter game, becomes rampant. It is there that the old
euchre deck and the staring domino become fair and
beautiful things; that the rattle of the Loto counter
rejoices the heart, t