. She was a very
handsome girl, and you could read the romantic nature of her being
through her big, round, gray eyes. She was vivacious, and loved to go;
but she was a dutiful daughter, and at once took hold to help her mother
in a way that made her all the more adorable in the eyes of practical
men like Miles.

Miles made the most of his opportunities.

But, bless you, there were other eyes for good-looking girls besides
those in poor Miles Diston's head, and he was far from having the field
to himself; this he wanted badly, and came to get advice from me.

I advised strongly against wasting energy to clear the field, and in
favor of putting it all into making the best show and in getting ahead
of all competitors. Under my advice, Miles disposed of some vacant
lots, and bought a neat little house, put it in thorough order, and made
the best of his opportunities with Marie.

Marie came to our house regularly, and I had good opportunity to study
her. She was a sensible little creature, and, to my mind, just the girl
for Miles; as Miles was just the man for her. But she had confided to my
wife the fact that she never, never could consent to marry and settle
down in the regulation, humdrum way; she wanted to marry a hero, some
one she could look up to--a king among men.

My wife told her that kings and heroes were scarce just then, and that a
lot of pretty good women managed to be comparatively happy with common
railroad men. But Marie wanted a hero, and would hear of nothing less.

It was during one of her visits to my house that Miles took Marie out
for a ride and (accidentally, of course) dropped around by his new
house, induced her to look at it, and told his story, asking her to
make the home complete. It would have caught almost any girl; but when
Miles delivered her at our door and drove off, I knew that there would
be a "For Rent" card on that house in a few days and that Marie Venot
was bound to have a hero or nothing.

Miles took his repulse calmly, but it hurt. He told me that Marie was
hunting for a different kind of man from him; said that he thought
perhaps if he would enlist, and go out to fight Sitting Bull, and come
home in a new, brass-bound uniform, with a poisoned arrow sticking out
of his breast, she would fall at his feet and worship him. She told him
she liked him better than any of the town boys; his calling was noble
enough and hard enough; but she failed to see her ideal hero in a man
wit