ou, dear. Stay; let _me_ ask
the other question."

Both the gentlemen started again: it was quite a surprise.

"But are you a married man, Mr. Lyon?" she asked, with a blush.

"No, madam," was the reply, with a very graceful bow--"I have a
mother, but no wife. Permit me to say, that, if I could believe there
was a duplicate of yourself in existence, I would be as soon as
possible."

"Oh, what a gallant speech!" said the lady. "Thank you, sir, very
much;" and she made him a pretty little curtsy. "Then I am quite sure
of my question, sir. Shall I, dear?"

The doctor quickly decided. "I am done for, anyhow," he reflected. "I
begin to see that the old villain put those questions into my head
himself. He hinted as much. I don't know but I'd rather she would ask
it. It's better to have her kill me, I guess, than to hold out the
carving-knife to him myself."

"With all my heart, my dear," said the doctor, "if Mr. Lyon consents."

Mr. Lyon looked a little disturbed; but his manner was perfect, as he
replied that he regretted to seem to disoblige, but that he feared the
conditions of their little bet would not allow it.

"Beg your pardon, I'm sure, for being so uncivil," said the lively
little beauty, as she whispered a few words in her husband's ear.

This is what she said--

"What's mine's yours, dear. Take it. Ask him--buz, buzz, buzz."

The doctor nodded. Mrs. Hicok stood by him and smiled, still holding
in her pretty pink fore-finger the frail shimmering thing just
mentioned; and she gave it a twirl, so that it swung quite round.
"Isn't it a love of a bonnet?" she said.

"Yes," the doctor said aloud. "I adopt the question."

"_Third Question. Which is the front side of this?_"

And he pointed to the bonnet. It must have been a bonnet, because Mrs.
Hicok called it so. I shouldn't have known it from the collection of
things in a kaleidoscope, bunched up together.

The lady stood before him, and twirled the wondrous fabric round and
round, with the prettiest possible unconscious roguish look of
defiance. The doctor's very heart stood still.

"Put it on, please," said Mr. Lyon, in the most innocent way in the
world.

"Oh, no!" laughed she. "I know I'm only a woman, but I'm not _quite_
so silly! But I'll tell you what: you men put it on, if you think that
will help you!" And she held out the mystery to him.

Confident in his powers of discrimination, Mr. Lyon took hold of the
fairy-like combination of spar