ruly."

"Then, yes," and the dear girl again came blushing into my arms.

While we were thus the door opened, and in came her parents who were
staying at a neighbouring hotel while inquiries were made as to my
mysterious absence. Not unnaturally my appearance went a long way to
confirm suspicions such as Mrs. Brown had confessed to, and, after they
had given me cold salutations, Polly's mother, fixing gold glasses on
the bridge of her nose and eyeing me haughtily therefrom, observed,

"And now that you ARE safely at home again, Lieutenant Gulliver Jones,
I think I will take my daughter away with me. Tomorrow her father will
ascertain the true state of her feelings after this unpleasant
experience, and subsequently he will no doubt communicate with you on
the subject." This very icily.

But I was too happy to be lightly put down.

"My dear madam," I replied, "I am happy to be able to save her father
that trouble. I have already communicated with this young lady as to
the state of her feelings, and as an outcome I am delighted to be able
to tell you we are to be married on Monday."

"Oh yes, Mother, it is true, and if you do not want to make me the most
miserable of girls again you will not be unkind to us."

In brief, that sweet champion spoke so prettily and smoothed things so
cleverly that I was "forgiven," and later on in the evening allowed to
escort Polly back to her hotel.

"And oh!" she said, in her charmingly enthusiastic way when we were
saying goodnight, "you shall write a book about that extraordinary
story you told me just now. Only you must promise me one thing."

"What is it?"

"To leave out all about Heru--I don't like that part at all." This
with the prettiest little pout.

"But, Polly dear, see how important she was to the narrative. I cannot
quite do that."

"Then you will say as little as you can about her?"

"No more than the story compels me to."

"And you are quite sure you like me much the best, and will not go
after her again?"

"Quite sure."

The compact was sealed in the most approved fashion; and here,
indulgent reader, is the artless narrative that resulted--an incident
so incredible in this prosaic latter-day world that I dare not ask you
to believe, and must humbly content myself with hoping that if I fail
to convince yet I may at least claim the consolation of having amused
you.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Gulliver of Mars, by Edwin L. Ar