but it can't see in the dark; an', boys, I've not
shown my hand--yet!"

"You've made no advances directly or indirectly?"

"Not a one. By golly! I--I dassn't. I jest didn't know how. I ain't up
to the tricks. You air, of course; but I'm not."

My brother somewhat confusedly hastened to assure Jasperson that his
knowledge of the sex was quite elementary, and gleaned for the most
part from a profound study of light literature.

The poet grinned derisively. "You ain't no tenderfoot," he said. "I
reckon that what you don't know about the girls ain't worth picklin'."

"Well, if you mean business," said Ajax didactically, "if nothing we
can say or do will divert your mind from courtship and matrimony--if,
my dear Jasperson, you are prepared to exchange the pleasant places,
the sunny slopes, and breezy freedom of bachelor life for the thorny
path that leads to the altar, and thence to--er--the cradle, if, in
short, you are determined to own a best girl, why, then the first and
obvious thing to do is to let her know discreetly that you're in love
with her."

"As how?" said Jasperson, breathlessly. "I told ye that when she was
around I felt like a worm."

"You spoke of wiggling," replied my brother; "and I suppose that
heretofore you have wiggled _from_ and not _to_ the bird.
Next time, wiggle up, my boy--as close as possible."

"You're dead right," murmured the disciple; "but look at here: when I
call on Miss Birdie, she sez, 'Mister Jasperson,' or, mebbe, 'Mister
Jasper, please be seated, an' let me take your hat.' Naterally, boys,
I take the chair she p'ints out, an' then, dog-gone it! she takes
_another_."

"Do you expect this young lady to sit down in your lap, sir? Maids,
Jasperson, must not be lightly put to confusion. They must be stalked,
and when at bay wooed with tender words and languishing glances. Now
listen to me. Next Sunday, when you call upon Miss Dutton, take the
chair she offers, but as soon as a suitable opportunity presents
itself, ask to see the album. Thus you will cleverly betray a warm
interest in her by showing a lively interest in her people. And to
look over an album two persons must----"

"You bet they must," interrupted the poet. "They must nestle up.
That's right! What kind of a chump am I not to have thought of that
before? Yes, boys, she's got an album, a beaut', too: crimson plush
an' nickel. And, of course, the pictures of her folks is inside. By
gum! I'll give the homeliest of 'e