For several seconds the two men stood staring fixedly into each other’s eyes. Then, suddenly, Boss Coggswell once more placed his hand upon the carrier’s shoulder. “It was only a joke, my boy. Or, rather, I should say, it was a little test. I wanted to determine your strength of character, and I must say that you have met the test remarkably well. I know now, for sure, that you are honest, and not to be tempted. Good-by.” With a paternal pat on the shoulder the politician dismissed his visitor. Owen was very thoughtful as he walked out of the clubhouse. He was not by any means convinced that the sinister proposition which had been made to him was nothing more than a harmless ruse to test his character. In spite of the politician’s reassuring words, he felt sure that Coggswell had been very much in earnest about wanting him to hand over the mail of somebody on his route--that was the real reason he had been summoned to the clubhouse. Owen recalled something which he had once heard somebody say regarding Samuel J. Coggswell--a very queer remark which had been made in his presence one day by a man who knew the boss well: “When you are talking with Sammy,” this man had said, “watch his ears carefully. If they begin to wiggle, look out for a crooked deal. Most men can’t move their ears without moving the rest of their heads besides, but Boss Coggswell can wiggle either ear at will. And, whenever he’s up to to some low trick, those ears of his always begin to move. He can keep the rest of his face as straight as a poker player; he can smile on you as sweetly as if he loved you like a brother, when all the time he hates you like poison; he can keep his voice as smooth as velvet; but he can’t make his ears behave when there’s anything crooked going on inside his head.” Owen recalled these words now, as he stepped out of the clubhouse. And he recalled, too, that all the while Samuel J. Coggswell had been talking to him about that scheme to tamper with the United States mail, his ears had been moving up and down as if on springs. Therefore, Owen felt sure that there was mischief brewing. TO BE CONTINUED. UNEXPECTED. He had been trying to impress upon the children in the school, in the capacity of a temperance lecturer, that though it was right and proper to relieve suffering and poverty, it was much better to find out the cause of it all--drink, of course--and remove that; and so with everything. “Now,” he said, “suppose your father some morning came downstairs, and, on going to the cellar, found it flooded; what would he do first? Would he begin bailing the water out?” “No, of course not.” “Now, what would be the first thing he’d do?” After a short silence, a shrill, piping voice cried out: “Why, he’d carry on awful!” SUMMERTIME IN THE COUNTRY. By MAX ADELER.