called it, and it cost twenty-one dollars a dozen, and there was at
least one broken bottle in every--"

"And I made up my mind she was throwing herself away, in marrying a
fellow that would be sure to care more for whisky than he did for her,"
interrupted Fred.

"Ease off, Fred, ease off now; there wasn't any whisky there; I tried to
get some of the old Twin Tulip brand for punch, but--"

"But the devil happened to be asleep, and you got a chance to behave
yourself," said Fred.

Crayme looked appealingly. "Fred," said he, "tell me about her yourself;
I'll take it as a favor."

"Why, she looked like a lot of lilies and roses," said Fred, "except
that you couldn't tell where one left off and the other began. As she
came into the room _I_ felt like getting down on my knees. Old Bayle was
telling me a vile story just then, but the minute _she_ came in he
stopped as if he was shot."

"He wouldn't drink a drop that evening," said Crayme, "and I've puzzled
my wits over that for five years--"

"She looked so proud of _you_" interrupted Fred, with some impatience.

"Did she?" asked Crayme. "Well, I guess I _was_ a good-looking fellow in
those days; I know Pike came up to me once, with a glass in his hand,
and said that he ought to drink to _me_, for I was the finest-looking
groom he'd ever seen. He was so tight, though, that he couldn't hold his
glass steady; and though you know I never had a drop of stingy blood in
me, it _did_ go to my heart to see him spill that gorgeous sherry."

"She looked very proud of _you_," Fred repeated; "but I can't see why,
for I've never seen her do it since."

"You _will_, though, hang you!" exclaimed the captain. "Get out of here!
I can think about her _now_, and I don't want anybody else around. No
rudeness meant, you know, Fred."

Fred Macdonald retired quietly, taking with him the keys of both doors,
and feeling more exhausted than he had been on any Saturday night since
the building of the mill.

FREE SPEECH.

[_The following is quoted, by permission, from Mr. Habberton's volume_,
"THE SCRIPTURE CLUB OF VALLEY REST," _published by_ G.P. Putnam's Sons,
_New York_.]

The members of the Scripture Club did not put off their holy interest
with their Sunday garments, as people of the world do with most things
religious. When the little steamboat _Oakleaf_ started on her Monday
morning trip for the city, the members of the Scripture Club might be
identified by their negle