s--what then?"

"Um--um," he muttered reflectively. "That's different."

"Don't I look--sort of--new--as if the varnish was still sticky and might
come off on the ladies' dresses and on the fine furniture?"

"Oh--that!" said he dubiously. "But all those kinds of things are matters
of taste."

"Out with it!" I commanded. "Don't be afraid. I'm not one of those damn
fools that ask for criticism when they want only flattery, as you ought
to know by this time. I'm aware of my good points, know how good they are
better than anybody else in the world. And I suspect my weak points--always
did. I've got on chiefly because I made people tell me to my face what
they'd rather have grinned over behind my back."

"What's your game?" asked Monson. "I'm in the dark."

"I'll tell you, Monson. I hired you to train horses. Now I want to hire you
to train me, too. As it's double work, it's double pay."

"Say on," said he, "and say it slow."

"I want to marry," I explained. "I want to inspect all the offerings before
I decide. You are to train me so that I can go among the herds that'd shy
off from me if I wasn't on to their little ways."

He looked suspiciously at me, doubtless thinking this some new development
of "American humor."

"I mean it," I assured him. "I'm going to train, and train hard. I've got
no time to lose. I must be on my way down the aisle inside of three months.
I give you a free hand. I'll do just what you say."

"The job's out of my line," he protested.

"I know better," said I. "I've always seen the parlor under the stable in
you. We'll begin right away. What do you think of these clothes?"

"Well--they're not exactly noisy," he said. "But--they're far from silent.
That waistcoat--" He stopped and gave me another nervous, timid look. He
found it hard to believe a man of my sort, so self-assured, would stand the
truth from a man of his second-fiddle sort.

"Go on!" I commanded. "Speak out! Mowbray Langdon had on one twice as loud
the other day at the track."

"But, perhaps you'll remember, it was only his waistcoat that was loud--not
he himself. Now, a man of your manner and voice and--you've got a look out
of the eyes that'd wake the dead all by itself. People can feel you coming
before they hear you. When they feel and hear and see all together--it's
like a brass band in scarlet uniform, with a seven-foot, sky-blue drum
major. If your hair wasn't so black and your eyes so steel-blue and sharp,
and yo