hed hand directly under her nose. She started back in dismay.

"Excuse me," humbly apologized Slim. "I didn't mean for to do that,
ma'am--deedy, I didn't--I was only--that's--well, I reckon I'm a little
bit--"

Slim looked directly at the girl for the first time. She was trying to
restrain her hearty laughter. Slim's face broadened in a grin.
"You're a mighty fine piece of work, you are, an' I've got an 'awful
yearnin' to butt into your family."

Polly was greatly moved by Slim's sincerity.

"Don't, please don't!" she pleaded. "Why, I've known all along that
you love me, but--"

"But what?" he asked, when she hesitated.

"I've always liked you real well, and I've been glad that you liked me.
I don't want to lose your friendship, though--and, oh, please forgive
me, please do." Polly was very repentant, showing it by the tones of
her voice and in her eyes.

Slim was puzzled at first. Then it came to him that the girl had
refused to marry him. "Oh! I 'low you-all ain't a-goin' to say you
love me, then."

"I don't believe I am." Polly smiled through her tears.

Slim paused, as if steadying himself to meet the full force of the blow.

"Mebbe it's along of my red hair?"

"It is red, isn't it?" Polly smiled kindly.

Slim ran his fingers through his locks, and looked at his fingers, as
if expecting the color would come off on his hands. "Tain't blue," he
said.

Another thought came to him. "Freckles," he asked laconically.

Polly only shook her head.

"There's only one cure for freckles--sandpaper," grinned Slim.

"But it isn't freckles," replied the girl.

Slim looked at his hands and feet. "Maybe it's fat?" he hazarded. "Oh,
I know I'm too fat! It beats all how I do keep fat."

Slim looked into his hat and sighed. "Well, I suppose we don't get
married this year, do we?"

"No, Slim," said Polly gently.

"Nor any other year to come?" Slim was still hopeful.

"That's the way it looks now."

Slim put on his hat and tried to walk jauntily to the fire, whistling a
bit of a tune. The effort was a sad failure. "Here's where I get off.
I'm in sure bad luck. Somebody must have put a copper on me when I was
born. I 'low I gotter be movin'."

"You won't hate me, will you, Slim?"

The Sheriff took the girl's hands in his and kissed them. "Hate you?"
he almost shouted. "Why, I couldn't learn to do that; no, siree! Not
in a thousand years."

Polly slapped Slim on the back. "I'm glad of th