f me to marry you?"

"Cowardly?"

"Yes, when I haven't actually proved that I can earn my living; at
least, I haven't done it long enough, or well enough, yet."

"I think it's brave of you to marry me."

"Brave?"

"To turn your back on a possible career."

"It's not the 'careering' that I love; though it will seem very
strange when Tommy Tucker doesn't have to sing for her supper!--Shall
we go? The waiter is coming in again. I believe he thinks we are going
to run off with the spoons!"

"So we are! At least, when we go, the spoons will go! I know it's a
poor joke, but I am too happy to be brilliant. Call the head waiter,
please,"--this to Walter, who despaired of ever getting rid of his
guests, and was agreeably disappointed that a gentleman who had not
ordered wine should ask for Gustave.

Appleton took the "Engaged" placard off the table and used it
nonchalantly as a fan in crossing the room. Then as he drew near the
men he slipped two gold pieces into Tommy's hand.

"May I carry away this placard, waiter?" he asked, as if it were quite
a sane request. "I've taken a fancy to it as a souvenir of a most
delightful and memorable dinner."

"Assuredly, assuredly!" murmured Gustave. He knew that there was
romance in the air, although he did not perceive the exact point of
Appleton's request.

"The young lady will reward you for your courtesy. No; I'll help with
her jacket, thank you."

Tommy, overcome with laughter and confusion and blushes, pressed the
gold pieces into the hands of the astonished waiters, who bowed almost
to the floor.

"You are always giving me sovereigns, dear Fergus," she whispered with
a laugh and something like a sob, as they drove along in the delicious
nearness provided by the hansom.

"Never mind," said Fergus. "You will be giving me one when you marry
me!"

THE TURNING-POINT

Not far from the village of Bonny Eagle, on the west bank of the Saco,
stood two little low-roofed farmhouses; the only two that had survived
among others of the same kind that once dotted the green brink of the
river.

Long years before, in 1795 or thereabouts, there had been a cluster of
log houses on this very spot, known then as the Dalton Right
Settlement, and these in turn had been succeeded at a later date by
the more comfortable frame-roof farmhouses of the period.

In the old days, before the sound of the axe for the first time
disturbed the stillness of the forest, the otter swam in