"I took a pledge once, and I expect to keep it." "Always?" "Always." "Pledge to your mother, I suppose?" "No; to a girl who--lives down there." "Oho, that's the first bit of sentiment I ever heard from you. A sweetheart, eh?" "Well, I can't deny it," said Jud, ashamed of his equivocation. "Tell me about her," cried his friend, enthusiastically. "There's nothing to tell. I had a letter from her to-day." "Then it's still on?" "I hope so," answered Jud, smiling mysteriously. "You're devilishly uncommunicative. If I had a sweetheart who could make me live up to a promise like that, I'd be only too glad to sing her praises to the sky." "Fall in love with some good, true girl, old fellow, and see how much you'll tell the world about it," said Jud, cleverly dodging the point. "I am in love and with the best girl in the world, but what good does it do me? She's not in love with me. Confound the luck, I'm younger than she is," cried Converse, ruefully. Sherrod laughed and puffed dreamily at his cigar for a few moments. "It's a crime to be young, I presume," he said, as if obliged to reopen the conversation. Converse was standing at his desk, looking at a photograph. "Don't give up because you are young. You'll outgrow it. I was very young when--when--I mean, I was younger than you by several years when I first fell in love," went on Jud confusedly. "But, I have no chance, you know," said the other, boyishly. "Prefers another?" "Don't know; I haven't had the courage to ask. She thinks I'm a nice boy and such good company. Girls don't say those things about the fellow they care for seriously. I'd rather be anything than a nice boy." "Is that her photograph?" "Yes. Isn't she a dream?" The owner of the den passed the portrait to his guest. Converse was surprised to see him start violently and then pass his hand over his eyes as if brushing away some form of doubt. "This is--this is Miss Wood?" asked Sherrod at last. "Do you know her? If you do, you can't wonder that I'm hard hit," cried the other. "I met her once down near my old home. One doesn't forget a face like hers. So I find her, after all, and the sweetheart of my best friend," Jud was saying, hazily. "Oh, no! Don't put it that way. She'd fall dead if any one suddenly intimated that such a relationship existed--keel over with surprise. But have you never seen her more than once?" "Just once. She bought the first picture I ever sold." "Great Cæsar! Are you the fellow who drew a picture of a waterfall somewhere and sold it to her for fifty dollars?" Converse was staring at Jud with eager eyes. "I'm the one who imposed upon her," said Jud, lamely. "Then, you're the good-looking country boy with the beautiful sweetheart that Celeste talked so much about. Well, this beats the----" "Celeste? Is that her name?" cried Jud, sitting bolt upright.