rywhere, and not a nut for miles!"

"That reminds me,"--Joe put a hand into his pocket,--"I brought some
chestnuts for him, and forgot them. Here."

Reginald's escape had rather knocked the tragedy out of the evening.
True, Sidney would not marry him for years, but she had practically
promised to sometime. And when one is twenty-one, and it is a summer
night, and life stretches eternities ahead, what are a few years more or
less?

Sidney was holding the tiny squirrel in warm, protecting hands. She
smiled up at the boy.

"Good-night, Joe."

"Good-night. I say, Sidney, it's more than half an engagement. Won't you
kiss me good-night?"

She hesitated, flushed and palpitating. Kisses were rare in the staid
little household to which she belonged.

"I--I think not."

"Please! I'm not very happy, and it will be something to remember."

Perhaps, after all, Sidney's first kiss would have gone without her
heart,--which was a thing she had determined would never happen,--gone
out of sheer pity. But a tall figure loomed out of the shadows and
approached with quick strides.

"The roomer!" cried Sidney, and backed away.

"Damn the roomer!"

Poor Joe, with the summer evening quite spoiled, with no caress to
remember, and with a potential rival who possessed both the years and
the inches he lacked, coming up the Street!

The roomer advanced steadily. When he reached the doorstep, Sidney
was demurely seated and quite alone. The roomer, who had walked
fast, stopped and took off his hat. He looked very warm. He carried
a suitcase, which was as it should be. The men of the Street always
carried their own luggage, except the younger Wilson across the way. His
tastes were known to be luxurious.

"Hot, isn't it?" Sidney inquired, after a formal greeting. She indicated
the place on the step just vacated by Joe. "You'd better cool off out
here. The house is like an oven. I think I should have warned you of
that before you took the room. These little houses with low roofs are
fearfully hot."

The new roomer hesitated. The steps were very low, and he was tall.
Besides, he did not care to establish any relations with the people
in the house. Long evenings in which to read, quiet nights in which to
sleep and forget--these were the things he had come for.

But Sidney had moved over and was smiling up at him. He folded up
awkwardly on the low step. He seemed much too big for the house. Sidney
had a panicky thought of the little r