xalt him higher in her
estimation.

Dexie treated him with such frigid politeness that he did not care to meet
her cold stare more often than necessary; so, when he sought Gussie's
society, Mr. Sherwood or Aunt Jennie were the only ones likely to interrupt
the _tete-a-tete_.

But things were not always to run so smoothly for Mr. Plaisted, and this
first day of April brought such discomfiture that his fastidious feelings
were very much upset. About noon, when the streets were thronged with
pedestrians returning from work or school to the mid-day meal, Dexie
noticed Mr. Plaisted sauntering toward the house, twirling his light cane
and looking as if he thought himself the pink of perfection. But what was
it that was fluttering in the breeze behind him? Some urchin--exasperated,
no doubt, by Plaisted's immaculate appearance--had fastened to his
coat-tails a bunch of dirty rags, and as Dexie watched him from the window,
she was convulsed with laughter as she saw him lift his hat and bow
profoundly to the two Desbrasy girls on the opposite sidewalk, who
immediately pulled out their handkerchiefs and applied them to their
faces; but he walked on, unconscious of the diversion he was causing to the
passers-by. As he came into the house, Dexie struck an attitude, and
exclaimed, in a tragic voice, "I could a tale unfold!"

Plaisted stood in the doorway, and looked at her in amazement.

"Dexie, don't be a fool," said Gussie, looking up from her wools, and
frowning at her sister's strange behavior.

"No, Gussie; I don't intend even to _try_ and be one, for when Mr. Plaisted
assumes that character, no one else has a possible chance either as court
fool or April fool."

Plaisted was too surprised to speak, and Dexie took no heed to his
darkening brow, but continued, "So _you_ have been studying Shakespeare,
and this is a practical illustration, I presume; or possibly you are posing
as a disciple of Darwin, and, to prove his theory, have unfolded your tail
to the public gaze. I have often wondered what it was you needed to make
you a perfect specimen of what Nature intended you to be." Then, catching
his arm, she turned him about that Gussie might see, adding, "He is quite
complete now, Gussie--see! This is a specimen of the species known as the
'missing link.'"

"For goodness' sake! how long have you been carrying that?" cried Gussie,
quite horrified at the sight.

Plaisted turned his head, and understood at a glance the mean