dvise you. Is the young lady a brunette or blonde?'

"'What difference does that make?' he innocently asked.

"'Oh,' said she, smiling, 'we must harmonize colors. What would suit one
complexion would not become another. What color is her hair?'

"'Nearly the color of yours,' said he. 'Not so heavy and lacks the
natural wave which yours has--but she's all right. She can ride a string
of my horses until they all have sore backs. I tell you she is a cute
trick. But, say, Miss De Ment, what do you think of a green hat, broad
brimmed, turned up behind and on one side, long black feathers run round
and turned up behind, with a blue bird on the other side swooping down
like a pigeon hawk, long tail feathers and an arrow in its beak? That
strikes me as about the mustard. What do you think of that kind of a
hat, dear?'

"'Why, sir, the colors don't harmonize,' she replied, blushing.

"'Theodore, do you know anything about this harmony of colors? Excuse
me, madam,--and I crave your pardon, Mr. Ochiltree, for using your given
name,--but really this harmony of colors is all French to me.'

"'Well, if the young lady is in town, why can't you have her drop in
and make her own selection?' suggested the blond milliner. He studied a
moment, and then awoke as if from a trance. 'Just as easy as not; this
very evening or in the morning. Strange we didn't think of that sooner.
Yes; the landlady of the hotel can join us, and we can count on your
assistance in selecting the hat.' With a number of comments on her
attractive place, inquiries regarding trade, and a flattering compliment
on having made such a charming acquaintance, we edged towards the door.
'This evening then, or in the morning at the farthest, you may expect
another call, when my friend must pay the penalty of his folly by
settling the bill. Put it on heavy.' And he gave her a parting wink.

"Together we bowed ourselves out, and once safe in the street he said:
'Didn't she help us out of that easy? If she wasn't a blonde, I'd go
back and buy her two hats for suggesting it as she did.'

"'Rather good looking too,' I remarked.

"'Oh, well, that's a matter of taste. I like people with red blood in
them. Now if you was to saw her arm off, it wouldn't bleed; just a
little white water might ooze out, possibly. The best-looking girl I
ever saw was down in the lower Rio Grande country, and she was milking
a goat. Theodore, my dear fellow, when I'm led blushingly to the altar,