n
concerned; but I was not loath to let him take on himself the burden of
our perplexity.

"Is she dead?" I asked.

"I needn't get one of that kind," he solemnly replied. "Somethin' in
autumn leaves ought to be nice."

"You might do better."

"A hand-paintin', then," he ventured timidly.

I smiled on this with more approval.

"They have some be-yutiful ones at Hopedale," he said with more heart.
"The last time I was down I was lookin' at 'em. They've fine gold
frames and----"

"Why send her a picture of a tree when the finest oak in the valley is
at her door?" I protested. "Why send her a picture of a slate-colored
cow when a herd of Durhams pastures every day right under her eye?"

"That's true," Perry answered. "Hand-paintin's is meant for city
folks. But what can a fellow get? A statue!" His eyes brightened.
"That's just the thing--a statue of Washington or Lincoln or General
Grant--how's that for an idee, Mark?"

"Excellent, if you are trying to make an impression on her uncle," I
answered.

Perry shook his hands despairingly.

"You have come to a poor person at such business, Perry," said I.
"What little I know of courting I have from books, and it seems to me
that the usual thing is flowers--violets--roses."

My friend straightened up in his chair and gazed at me very long and
hard. From me his eyes wandered to the calendar that hung behind my
desk.

"November--November," he muttered. "A touch of snow too--and violets
and roses."

He leaned toward me fiercely. "Violets come in May," he said. "This
here is a matter of weeks."

"I'm serious, Perry," said I. "Books are the thing, and flowers; not
wreaths and statues and paintings. You must send something that
carries some sentiment with it."

He saw that I was in earnest, and his countenance became brighter.

"Geraniums," he muttered; thumping the table. "I'll get Mrs. Arker to
let me have one of them window-plants of hers, and I'll put it in a new
tomato-can and paint it. How's that for a starter?"

"I've never read about men sending geraniums," I replied. "It's odd,
but I never have. I suppose the can makes them seem a little
unwieldly. Still----"

"I had thought of forty-graph album." Perry spoke timidly again.

I had no mind to let him venture any more suggestions. His was too
fickle a fancy, and I had settled on an easy solution of the problem.
He was to send her a geranium. Somehow, I knew deep down in my own
h