“Listen to me!” she demanded, “If there was a big, lovable, splendid child you knew and he insisted on going to play with children who hadn’t the sense to see how fine he was and what good company he could be, it wouldn’t make you angry at _him_, would it, if he got laughed at for not understanding their stiff, set ways? Of course not. But when he’d _had_ his lesson and had burned his poor stubby fingers, wouldn’t it make you just the least little bit impatient if he began right away to plan to try his luck with those same horrid children again? Wouldn’t you be tempted to spank him or--?” “You’re dead right, little girl,” he admitted, “An’ you’re a lot cleverer than I am. I--” “Then you _will_ give it up?” she urged. “I can’t, Dey! Honest, I can’t. I couldn’t look myself in the face again if I let those gold-shirters beat me out. You see how it is, don’t you? I’m in to _win_. If I ever was to give up a fight, I could never win another. It’d take the ‘win’ out of me, for keeps. _Please_ don’t make me do it, Dey!” “All right!” she sighed, in comic despair, “It’s only for your own sake and because I care for you.” “If it’s goin’ to make you unhappy or ashamed of me, I’ll give it up,” he said with slow resignation. “No,” she forbade. “You needn’t feel that way about it. It doesn’t make me unhappy, except on your account. And I couldn’t be ‘ashamed’ of you if I tried all day. You know I couldn’t.” “You’re the dandiest, littlest, prettiest girl there is!” he said gratefully, “An’ those big eyes of yours kind of make me feel like I was in church. Now I’ll chase home an’ give you a chance to do some sleepin’. Say--” as he started to go, “What do you think of Miss Standish?” “Why,” she answered, perplexed, “I never thought much about her. She’s very nice;--and pretty, too; isn’t she?” “Looks a little like a rabbit, don’t she?” he ventured. The girl’s quick laugh flashed out and she clasped her hands together. “Beautiful!” she cried. “How did you _ever_ think of it?” “Struck me the first time I saw her,” he replied, flattered, “I told her about it to-night at dinner.” “Caleb! You _didn’t_!” “Honest, I did!” he reiterated. “I--” “What _did_ she say?” “Oh, she didn’t seem to mind. Got sort o’ red, an’ grinned. I guess she liked it. Her’n me didn’t get on so bad together, takin’ all into account. I guess we’ll pull together first rate when we’re better acquainted.” “You seem pretty certain of being ‘better acquainted’”, she mocked; albeit there was a little tug at her heart. “I am,” he answered, coolly, “The fact is, Dey, I’m thinkin’ of makin’ it a case of marry.” For a moment she did not answer. The footfalls of a pedestrian sounded rhythmically distinct in the silence that fell between the man and the girl. Then Desirée observed, with a slight restraint that sat strangely upon her:-- “I don’t think that is a very nice joke.”