"Oh, it was so romantic, such a sweet dream! And here we are in his old home in Germany and so happy! "Forgive and forget all that I have ever said about people falling in love, for mine at last was the hardest fall!" *CHAPTER III* *A NIGHT WITH CAPTAIN SKIPPER* Blessed is that man who is born with the saving grace of humor! Blessings on the memory of my Celtic sires! One night when Eloise and the twins were away, I rode over to spend the night with my brother Ned. He had been elected to Congress from the Hermitage District, and together we were to frame a Forestry Bill—the first of that series of acts which have steadily legislated toward the Conservation of our national resources, and which will yet lead on to greater things; first and foremost of which, and most vital, will be the taking over for preservation by the national Government of the entire Appalachian mountain range, the forests of which are at the headwaters of nearly all the Eastern half of our country. My brother was not home, but the others were, and to my great delight a girl baby as much like her mother as two turquoise shells. Little Sister had grown into a slim, pretty girl, and Captain Skipper, more positive than ever, began early begging his mother, since his father was away, to let him sleep with his Uncle Jack that night. "Oh, do, Thesis," I said, after supper. "Let him have his way." "And that’s where you’ll drop your candy," said Little Sister in her serio-quaint way. Thesis, who is so good that she says only what she thinks and is so honest that she never suspects others of diplomatic pretenses, took me at my word. Captain Skipper should sleep with his dear Uncle Jack that night! You who read this, did you ever sleep with a boy? I don’t mean one of those good boys that you read of in Sunday-school books—the impossible kind—who lives like a saint every day and says his prayers and retires like a gentleman at night: but one of those lusty, growing young devils, born with a spring in his back, who howls out the first year, sleeps out the second, and by the time of the third is ready to chase the cat around and fight brave battles with the hen folks. At four he is ready for the birds’ nests and tin cans for the dogs’ tails, and a little later he breaks every colt that tries to keep the Sabbath in the meadow by the still waters. When night comes—ay, there is the rub! He howls away the twilight hours and spends the night kicking, coughing, rolling out of bed or having fits, and yet sleeping through it all like a cub in winter quarters. The weather that night was warm, one of those hot April nights that lies humid and close. "The dear little fellow will be so proud to sleep with his Uncle Jack," said his fond mother, when she kissed him good night; "and he does sleep so sound and quietly."