loshy, creamy sort, though I keep telling him I like the
other. Well, one thing's certain. Fillmore's got it up his nose. He's
beginning to hop about and sing in the sunlight. It's going to be hard
work to get that boy down to earth again." Miss Winch heaved a gentle
sigh. "I should like him to have enough left in the old stocking to
pay the first year's rent when the wedding bells ring out." She bit
meditatively on her chewing-gum. "Not," she said, "that it matters. I'd
be just as happy in two rooms and a kitchenette, so long as Fillmore
was there. You've no notion how dippy I am about him." Her freckled face
glowed. "He grows on me like a darned drug. And the funny thing is that
I keep right on admiring him though I can see all the while that he's
the most perfect chump. He is a chump, you know. That's what I love
about him. That and the way his ears wiggle when he gets excited. Chumps
always make the best husbands. When you marry, Sally, grab a chump.
Tap his forehead first, and if it rings solid, don't hesitate. All the
unhappy marriages come from the husband having brains. What good are
brains to a man? They only unsettle him." She broke off and scrutinized
Sally closely. "Say, what do you do with your skin?"

She spoke with solemn earnestness which made Sally laugh.

"What do I do with my skin? I just carry it around with me."

"Well," said Miss Winch enviously, "I wish I could train my darned fool
of a complexion to get that way. Freckles are the devil. When I was
eight I had the finest collection in the Middle West, and I've been
adding to it right along. Some folks say lemon-juice'll cure 'em. Mine
lap up all I give 'em and ask for more. There's only one way of getting
rid of freckles, and that is to saw the head off at the neck."

"But why do you want to get rid of them?"

"Why? Because a sensitive girl, anxious to retain her future husband's
love, doesn't enjoy going about looking like something out of a dime
museum."

"How absurd! Fillmore worships freckles."

"Did he tell you so?" asked Miss Winch eagerly.

"Not in so many words, but you can see it in his eye."

"Well, he certainly asked me to marry him, knowing all about them, I
will say that. And, what's more, I don't think feminine loveliness
means much to Fillmore, or he'd never have picked on me. Still, it is
calculated to give a girl a jar, you must admit, when she picks up a
magazine and reads an advertisement of a face-cream beginning, 'You