er huffy, when Kitty called out,--

"'Stop, ma! I'll come down and help you, only ketch me if I tumble.'

"She looked scared but stiddy, and I'll bet it took as much grit for
her to do it as for one of us to face a battery. It don't seem much to
tell of, but I wish I may be hit if it wasn't a right down dutiful
and clever thing to see done. When the old lady took her off at the
bottom, with a good motherly hug, 'Good,' thinks I; 'what more do you
want?'"

"A snug little property wouldn't a ben bad, I reckon," said Flint.

"Well, she had it, old skin-flint, though I didn't know or care about
it then. What a jolly row she'd make if she knew I was tellin' the
ladder part of the story! She always does when I get to it, and makes
believe cry, with her head in my breast-pocket, or any such handy
place, till I take it out and swear I'll never do so ag'in. Poor
little Kit, I wonder what she's doin' now. Thinkin' of me, I'll bet."

Dick paused, pulled his cap lower over his eyes, and smoked a minute
with more energy than enjoyment, for his cigar was out and he did not
perceive it.

"That's not all, is it?" asked Thorn, taking a fatherly interest in
the younger man's love passages.

"Not quite. 'Fore long, Joe whistled, and as I always take short cuts
everywhar, I put in at the back-door, jest as Kitty come trottin' out
of the pantry with a big berry-pie in her hand. I startled her, she
tripped over the sill and down she come; the dish flew one way, the
pie flopped into her lap, the juice spatterin' my boots and her clean
gown. I thought she'd cry, scold, have hysterics, or some confounded
thing or other; but she jest sat still a minute, then looked up at
me with a great blue splash on her face, and went off into the
good-naturedest gale of laughin' you ever heard in your life. That
finished me. 'Gay,' thinks I; 'go in and win.' So I did; made love
hand over hand, while I stayed with Joe; pupposed a fortnight after,
married her in three months, and there she is, a tiptop little woman,
with a pair of stunnin' boys in her arms!"

Out came a well-worn case, and Dick proudly displayed the likeness of
a stout, much bejewelled young woman with two staring infants on her
knee. In his sight, the poor picture was a more perfect work of art
than any of Sir Joshua's baby-beauties, or Raphael's Madonnas, and the
little story needed no better sequel than the young father's praises
of his twins, the covert kiss he gave their mother wh