the one
they have to carry home the morning after. And the chap who promises a
girl a life of roses is the one who will let her pick all the thorns off
for herself."

"Perhaps," sighed the widow, chewing the stem of a violet thoughtfully,
"the best way to cure a man of a taste for anything, after all, is to
let him have too much of it, instead of making him swear off. If you
want him to hate the smell of a pipe insist on his smoking one all the
time. If you want him to sign the temperance pledge serve him wine with
every course. If you want him to hate a woman invite her to meet him
every time he calls, and tell him how 'suitable' she would be."

"And if you want him to love you," finished the bachelor, "don't ask
him to swear it, but tell him that he really ought not to. The best way
to manage a donkey--human or otherwise--is to turn his head in the wrong
direction, and he'll back in the right one."

"Then," said the widow decisively, "we ought to begin the New Year by
making some irresolutions."

"Some--what?"

"Vows that we won't stop doing the things we ought not to do," explained
the widow.

"All right," agreed the bachelor thoughtfully, "I'll make an
irresolution to go on making love to you as much as I like."

"You mean as much as I like, Mr. Travers," corrected the widow severely.

"How much do you like?" asked the bachelor, leaning over to look into
the widow's eyes.

The widow kicked the corner of the rug tentatively.

"I like--all but the proposing," she said slowly. "You really ought to
stop that----"

"I'm going to stop it--to-night," said the bachelor firmly.

The widow looked up in alarm.

"Oh, you don't have to commence keeping your resolutions until to-morrow
morning," she said quickly.

"And you are going to stop refusing me--to-night," continued the
bachelor firmly.

The widow studied the corner of the rug with great concern.

[Illustration: "OH don't. In a moment we'll be making promises." _Page
177_]

"And," went on the bachelor, taking something from his pocket and toying
with it thoughtfully, "you are going to put on this ring"--he leaned
over, caught the widow's hand and slipped the glittering thing on her
third finger. "Now," he began, "you are going to say that you will----"

The widow sprang up suddenly.

"Oh, don't, don't, don't!" she cried. "In a moment we'll be making
promises."

"We don't need to," said the bachelor, leaning back nonchalantly, "we
can begin by m