"And in the meantime," went on Melissa with rare diplomacy, "you may see some one else that you like better than Miss Fairweather. That very frequently happens to a fellow when he's busy trying to get a beard." "Do you think she likes Mr. Flanders, Melissa?" A great deal depended on her answer. That was to be seen by the expression in his young blue eyes. "Certainly," said she promptly. "Everybody likes him. I like him. So does your ma and so does your pa. That's nothing to go by. Why, I'll bet you like him yourself. He's a fine fellow." "Do you think he's very good looking?" "In a way, yes," said Melissa, musingly. "I shouldn't call him quite perfect, however." "Do you think he's as good-looking as Diggs?" "I used to think so, but--Now, that reminds me: if you ever say a word to anybody about Mr. Diggs and me being enamoured of each other, I'll have nothing more to do with you--not a thing, d'you understand? It's a secret. Your pa and ma are not to know about it until we get ready to announce our engagement." "I'll never tell," promised the young lover. "And here's another thing: Don't you ever let on to Mr. Diggs that I'm over twenty-six. If you do, I'll tell your pa that you're using his razor, and--well, say, that would be a mortification for you. Miss Fairweather would never get over laughing at you. Do you know, I'm awfully sorry for Mr. Flanders. He is a fine fellow, and it will break his heart if you get her away from him, Freddie. It seems too bad for a rich young gentleman like you to be pitted against a poor, struggling newspaper man whose heart is afire with--" "Oh, gee, Melissa, don't talk like that," cried Frederick in distress. "I DO like him, and I don't want him to ever be unhappy." "That's the way to talk," she cried warmly. "That's regular nobility. Let's give him an equal chance, Freddie. If he can win, all well and good. We'll take our medicine. If he loses, why he can take his." "I wish I was as old as he is," mourned Frederick. "Poor fellow," sighed Melissa, wiping an imaginary tear from her eye. "I DO feel sorry for him. I hate to see a fine, honourable gentleman's heart busted as you are likely to bust his for--" "Oh, goodness!" gulped Frederick, his soul filled with pity for the unfortunate Flanders. He suppressed a sniffle, and then, after a moment consumed in re-ordering his emotions, went on brightly: "Of course, if she loves him, Melissa, I shall be the first to wish him joy. That's the kind of fellow I am." "I wonder," mused Melissa, "if that's the kind of a fellow he'd be if some other fellow won his lady love away from him in a fair contest?"