designs of the
Creator, there could be no doubt that she meant a husband.

Joel rose to his feet and his mute tempestuous indignation was not
without interest as throwing light on the workings of the masculine
mind. In such a design as he attributed to Susan, it would seem that
the lady had much to lose and little to gain. She was vigorous,
well-preserved, possessed of a competence, while Joel was doubly
bankrupt. Yet his mood was far removed from humble gratitude. He was
furious at her presumption, alert to defend his threatened
prerogatives, angry at Persis for exposing him to such an attack under
his own roof where ignominious retreat was his only safety.

"I've just thought of a little matter I've got to look after this
afternoon," he said, his manner nicely calculated to repel any tender
advances. "I'll have to hurry along, and there won't be any occasion
for you to linger. Please hang the key on the nail so Persis can let
herself in when she comes."

His sudden hauteur was not lost on Susan. She sighed as he withdrew.

"Funny how real liberal-minded men won't listen to argument when it
comes to some questions. But maybe he'll think over what I said and
it'll have an influence sooner or later. Anyway, we've got to be
prepared to sow beside all waters."

The leather-covered book, whose failure to serve her purpose was
indirectly responsible for the broaching of so delicate a question,
caught her wandering attention. She picked it up, reading the title
aloud.

"_Love Songs of Many Lands_. No wonder I couldn't find one that was
sensible. Well, I declare!"

The book had opened at the fly-leaf. "Persis from Justin," Susan read,
bringing her near-sighted eyes close to the faded ink. She pursed her
lips and shook her head in disapproving surprise.

"Persis Dale must have known some man pretty well to let him give her
anything so pointed. I should have thought she'd have felt awfully
embarrassed if she ever read the poems. Justin! Justin! There was a
Justin Ware, but I never heard there was anything between them."

She returned the book to the chilly front room, adjusting it to the
proper angle on the center-table, as if it had been a part of a
geometrical diagram, And finally, after locking the door and hanging
the key where Persis, or any other arrival, would immediately notice
it, she turned her downcast face toward home.

"I'm afraid I hurt Mr. Dale's feelings. It beats all how sensitive