to do, mister? I had a good job at Nixon's Cafe in
Seattle. Sol wrote to me through the _Matrimonial Times_. I wrote
back to him. I sent him my picture and he sent me his--this one--and
now he says he ain't him."

"That isn't his photo, woman,--it is mine," interrupted Jim.

"But he's you," she whimpered.

"Then who the mischief am I?" asked Jim in perplexity.

"You told me you had a house, and fruit trees, and a blacksmith's
shop, and plenty of money and, if I came to Canada, we'd get married.
I throwed up my good job and I've come and now you say you ain't him,"
she sailed on breathlessly, her ample bosom labouring excitedly.

"Phil," said Jim, aside. "How the devil do you suppose that big idiot
got my photo? It looks like one taken off one I used to have, and
lost."

"I guess that is just what it is," grinned Phil.

"Well,--we've got to see this little woman right, and incidentally
give Sol Hanson the biggest fright he ever got in his natural.

"Miss--Miss Jornsen,--there's a mistake somewhere. My name is Jim
Langford, and that is my photograph; but I never sent it to you. We
happen to know Sol Hanson though. He lives here all right. This
gentleman works with him.

"Sol is a Swede?"

"Yes,--yes!" put in Betty, "same as I am."

"I'm thinking he was afraid he wasn't good-looking enough and he was
scared to take chances, so he sent you my photo instead of one of his
own," he went on, without even a blush of conceit.

"And--and he ain't such a good-looker as you?" she queried.

"Well,--well, of course, tastes differ. You might like him fine," he
grinned, with becoming modesty.

"But he's got a house, and fruit trees, and a blacksmith shop, and he
can work?" she asked.

"You bet! He's well fixed. Come along and we'll see him now. He will
never be able to resist you."

Betty perked up at the compliment.

Then nervously and timidly she set herself to rights, finally
consenting to allow Jim and Phil to escort her to the smithy.

"You wait here!" instructed Jim at the corner of the block. "We'll go
and break the news to Sol. We'll come back for you.

"Give me that picture, though. I have a word to say in his ear about
that."

Betty opened her bag, gazed fondly on Jim's photo, then at him, before
she slowly delivered it up.

Phil went into the smithy, hung up his coat, put on his apron and
started in to work.

Jim followed him a few minutes later.

Sol Hanson was busy shoeing a horse. Jim went ov