convinced that my interest in the company will
yield me a competence; accordingly, behold me at your feet!'"

Miss 'Lethe looked down somewhat mischievously. She did not see the
Colonel where his note declared he would be. She glanced again at the
paper in her hands and saw a word which, at first, had quite escaped
attention. "'Metaphorically,'" she read, and then the signature:
"'Colonel Sandusky Doolittle.'"

"Colonel!" she exclaimed.

"Miss 'Lethe," he replied, and, discovering that the flask was still in
plain view in his hand, slipped it into his sidepocket upside down.

"Colonel, put that bottle right side up and listen to me," she said
calmly. "Do you really love me?"

"Do I love you? With a fervor--er--a--passion--er--will you excuse me if
I smoke?" He took a black cigar from his vest pocket, in another effort
to control his nerves, and lighted it as might an automatic smoker.

"I am going to put you to the proof," said she. "Could you, for my sake,
come down from ten cigars a day to five?"

The Colonel was dismayed. "To five cigars a day! Impossible!" He caught
himself. That scarcely was the way to answer the request of the woman he
adored so fervently. "I mean," he hastily corrected, "is--is that all?"
He made a motion as if to throw away the weed he had just lighted, but
thought better of it. "I will make the descent to-morrow," he said
earnestly.

"Could you restrict yourself to three mint-julips, daily?"

"Three! A man couldn't live on three! He'd have to--have to take such
poisons as--as cold water into his system."

"Remember, Colonel, I would mix them."

"That settles it! Three goes!" He fervently reached toward her, plainly
planning to embrace her.

"Wait, Colonel," she exclaimed, "there is one more condition. Could you,
for my sake, promise never to enter another race-track?"

He started back from her in horror. "Never enter another race-tack! I,
Colonel Sandusky Doolittle, known everywhere, from Maine to California,
as a plunger, give up the absorbing passion of my life!"

"Remember what you said to Frank," said she. "'It's a delusion and a
snare.' But, of course, if you think more of a delusion than you do of
me--"

"No; hang it!" cried the Colonel, "I think more of you. Twenty
years--the longest race on record and a win in sight! I'll not lose by a
balk at the finish! I promise you, Miss 'Lethe, on the honor of a
Kentuckian."

"Then, Colonel, I must confess, I have loved you, al