think you were about
to keep an appointment with a dentist, instead of having the inestimable
privilege of proposing to me with the inside information that I am going
to accept you."

Phil drew away his hand from hers. His blue eyes were grave.

"Don't, Carlotta! I am afraid the chap was right about the
real-earnestness. It may be a fine jest to you. It isn't to me. You see I
happen to be in love with you."

"Of course," murmured Carlotta. "That is quite understood. Did you think
I would have bothered to drag you clear up on a mountain top to propose
to me if I hadn't known you were in love with me and--I with you?" she
added softly.

"Carlotta! Do you mean it?" Phil's whole heart was in his honest
blue eyes.

"Of course, I mean it. Foolish! Didn't you know? Would I have tormented
you so all these months if I hadn't cared?"

"But, Carlotta, sweetheart, I can't believe you are in earnest even now.
Would you marry me really?"

"_Would_ I? _Will_ I is the verb I brought you up here to use. Mind
your grammar."

Phil clasped his hands behind him for safe keeping.

"But I can't ask you to marry me--at least not to-day."

Carlotta made a dainty little face at him.

"And why not? Have you any religious scruples about proposing on
Sunday?"

He grinned absent-mindedly and involuntarily at that. But he shook his
head and his hands stayed behind his back.

"I can't propose to you because I haven't a red cent in the world--at
least not more than three red cents. I couldn't support an everyday wife
on 'em, not to mention a fairy princess."

"As if that mattered," dismissed Carlotta airily. "You are in love with
me, aren't you?"

"Lord help me!" groaned Phil. "You know I am."

"And I am in love with you--for the present. You had better ask me while
the asking is good. The wind may veer by next week, or even by tomorrow.
There are other young men who do not require to be commanded to propose.
They spurt, automatically and often, like Old Faithful."

Phil's ingenuous face clouded over. The other young men were no
fabrication, as he knew to his sorrow. He was forever stumbling over them
at Carlotta's careless feet.

"Don't, Carlotta," he begged again. "You don't have to scare me into
subjection, you know. If I had anything to justify me for asking you to
marry me I'd do it this minute without prompting. You ought to know that.
And you know I'm jealous enough already of the rest of 'em, without your
rubbing it in