A pleasant vision floated before Sube's eyes. He saw himself beneath the kindly disguise of a flowing mustache, mingling unrecognized among his friends. Then suddenly the adoring eyes of Nancy Guilford penetrated his mask. And she began to seek his forgiveness for having called him a kid; and with a continuous crossing of her heart she promised over and over that she would never again refer to the fact that she was two years older than he. "That's all right, Nance," he condescended to say; "we'll let that go. But if you want to have a _man_ with a _mustache_ for a fellow, you've got to promise that you'll never speak to Biscuit Westfall again as long as you live--" But before Nancy's promise could be recorded, cruel footsteps intruded upon the vision. And slipping the bottle under his coat Sube retired to the barn, where he made the first fragrant application to his upper lip, and then retired to the roof, where there would be plenty of ventilation while he rubbed it in. And here Gizzard Tobin found him a short time afterwards, to Sube's intense discomfiture, for the young mustache-raiser was caught like a rat in a trap and with no adequate explanation for smelling to heaven. Sube did not overwhelm his caller with the warmth of his welcome. Gizzard noted the lack of cordiality, and with all the directness of his twelve years started in to probe it to the bottom. "Been gettin' a lickin'?" he inquired as he seated himself in front of his companion. "No, I ain't," grunted Sube. "Then what's the matter of you?" "Who said an'thing was?" At this moment Gizzard caught a whiff of the unspeakable aroma. His face lighted up at once. "Been hurt?" he asked eagerly. Sube shook his head. Obviously disappointed, Gizzard pursued his inquiries. "Then what makes you smell so much like a horse doctor?" he asked. Sube was in deep water. He couldn't tell Gizzard the truth about the mustache! But what _could_ he tell? As nothing occurred to him, he made a bluff at mumbling that he didn't "smell nuthin'," thereby arousing Gizzard's compassionate derision. At this tense moment there popped into Sube's mind an interesting bit of news that he had gleaned from his eaves-dropping outside the library door during the doctor's visit, and thinking that he might, by telling it, distract Gizzard's attention from his quest of the engaging odor, Sube dramatically glanced around as if to make sure that nobody was near, and whispered behind his hand: "Hey, Giz, heard the news about ol' Whiting that lives nex' door to Doc Richards?" Gizzard shook his head skeptically. "Well, sir, when he went out on his porch to get his paper this morning, what do you s'pose he found there in a basket?" "Apples?" "I should say _not_! He found a little girl baby, as red as a beet!" Gizzard was inclined to belittle this announcement. "That's nuthin'," he muttered; "the folks who live 'cross the street from us had twins last week--"