that you could crush her." Then forgetting
herself for a moment, she moved quite close to Dic and asked, "_Did_ you
take--take--" but she stopped.

"Tell me, Rita," returned Dic, with a sharpness that attracted her
attention at once, "did she say I took hold of her, or are you trying to
tease me? If you are teasing, I think it is in bad taste. If she said--"

"Well," interrupted the girl, slightly frightened, "she said that when
you take hold of one--"

"Oh, she did not say herself?" asked Dic.

"I don't see that she could have meant any one else," replied Rita.
"But, dear me, I don't care how often you take hold of her; you need not
get angry at me because you took hold of her. There can be no harm in
taking hold of any one, I'm sure, if you choose to do so; but why one
should do it, I don't know, and I'm sure I don't care."

No _ex post facto_ resolution could cure that lie, though of course it
is a privileged one to a girl.

Dic made no reply, save to remark: "I'll see Miss Sukey to-morrow. If I
wanted to 'take hold' of her, as she calls it, I would do so, but--but
I'll see her to-morrow."

The answer startled Rita. She did not want to be known as a tale-bearer.
Especially did she object in this particular case; therefore she
said:--

"You may see her if you wish, but you shall not speak to her of what I
have told you. She would think--"

"Let her think what she chooses," he replied. "I have never 'taken hold'
of her in my life. Lord knows, I might if I wanted to. All the other
boys boast that they take turn about, but--. She would be a fool to tell
if it were true, and a story-teller if not. So I'll settle the question
to-morrow, and for all time."

A deal of trouble might have been saved had Rita permitted him to make
the settlement with Sukey, but she did not. The infinite potency of
little things is one of the paradoxes of life.

"No, you shall not speak of this matter to her," she said, moving close
to him upon the log and putting her hand upon his arm coaxingly.
"Promise me you will not."

He would have promised to stop breathing had she asked it in that mood.
It was the first he had ever seen of it, and he was pleased, although,
owing to an opaqueness of mind due to his condition, it told him nothing
save that his old-time friend was back again.

"If you tell her," continued the girl, "she will be angry with me, and I
have had so much trouble of late I can't bear any more."

At last she was o