Galusha hung up the receiver. Then he sat down in the rocker and gazed at the opposite wall. His secret was safe. But that safety he had bought at the price of another falsehood--told to Cousin Gussie this time. He did not seem to be the same Galusha Cabot Bangs at all. That Galusha--the former Galusha--had considered himself a gentleman and would no more have told a lie than he would have stolen his neighbor's spoons. This one--his present self--lied not only once but twice and thrice. He told one untruth to cover another. He lived in an atmosphere of blackest falsehood and deception. The sole ray of light in the darkness was the knowledge that Martha Phipps did not know his real character. She considered him honest and truthful. In order that she might continue to think him so, he would go on prevaricating forever, if necessary. It preyed upon his conscience, nevertheless. The thought uppermost in his mind was expressed in a reply which he made to a question asked by Mr. Bloomer on an afternoon of that week. Zach and Primmie were, as so often happened, involved in an argument and, as also so often happened, they called on him to act as referee. “We was talkin' about names, Mr. Bangs,” explained Primmie. “He's always makin' fun of my name. I told him my name was pretty enough to get put into poetry sometimes. You know--” “I told her,” broke in Zach, solemnly, but with a wink at Galusha, “that the only thing I could think of to rhyme with 'Primrose' was 'Jim Crows.'” “I never said it rhymed,” protested Miss Cash, hotly. “You can have your name in poetry without its rhymin', I guess likely. You're always tellin' me about how 'Zacheus he, climbed up a tree--' Now if your name had to rhyme 'twould have to be--er--er--well, nothing',” triumphantly; “'cause nothin' COULD rhyme with Zacheus.” Mr. Bloomer, solemn as ever, shook his head. “Yes, it could,” he declared. “What's the name of that plant Lulie's got in the settin' room window over home? The one with the prickers on it. Cat-tailed--no, rat-tailed--um--” “Cactus.” Galusha supplied the word. “That's it,” said Zach. “That would do it. 'Old man Zach'us Shinned up a cactus--' Have to step lively, wouldn't he?” he added, with a chuckle. Primmie sniffed. “Silly!” she retorted. “What was that pretty piece of poetry you told me the other day that had my name in it, Mr. Bangs? The one about it bein' so and so and not much else? You know the one.” Galusha obliged. “'A primrose by the river's brim A yellow primrose was to him, And it was nothing more.'” “There!” said Primmie, triumphantly. “Do you hear that, Zach Bloomer? That's poetry, the real kind. And it's got my name in it, too.” Zach shook his head.