self
at 6:30 a.m., and hanging out a Monday wash for two."

"Oh!" says Babe. "Then you've picked out the lucky chap?"

"I don't know whether he's lucky or not," says she. "It isn't really
settled, anyway. Pete Snyder has been hanging around for some time, and
I expect I'll give in if he keeps it up. He's Dad's helper, you know,
and he isn't more'n half as dumb as he looks. Gosh! Here we are. I hope
none of the kids see you bringing me home and tell Pete about it. He'd
be green in the eye for a week. Good-by, Mr. Cutler, and much obliged."

As she skips out and up the path toward the little ramshackle cottage
she turns and flashes one of them wide smiles on Babe and gives him a
friendly wave.

"Well," says I. "Pete might do worse."

"I believe you," says Babe, kind of solemn.

Course, I didn't keep any close track of Mr. Cutler for the next few
days. There was no special reason why I should. I supposed he was busy
makin' up his quartette for that Southern cruise. So about a week later
I'm mildly surprised to hear that he's still stayin' on over at Sister
Mabel's. I didn't really suspicion anything until one afternoon, along
in the middle of January, when as I steps off the 5:10 I gets a glimpse
of Babe's blue racer waitin' at the crossing gates. And snuggled down
under the fur robe beside him, with her cheeks pinked up by the crisp
air and her brown eyes sparklin', is Miss Lucy Snell.

"Huh!" thinks I. "Still goin' on, eh? Or has Billy's little beak had
another leaky spell?"

Couldn't have been many days after that before I comes home to find Vee
all excited over some news she'd heard from Mrs. Robert Ellins.

"What do you think, Torchy!" says she. "That bachelor friend of Mr.
Robert, a Mr. Cutler, was married last night."

"Eh!" says I. "Babe?"

"Yes," says Vee. "And to a village girl, daughter of T. Snell, the
plumber. And his married sister is perfectly wild about it. Isn't it
dreadful?"

"Oh, I don't know," says I. "Might turn out all right."

"But--but she's a poor little school-teacher," protests Vee, "and Mr.
Cutler is--is----"

"A rich sport," I puts in, "who's always had what he wanted. And I
expect he thought he wanted Miss Snell. Looks so, don't it?"

I understand that Sister Mabel threw seven kinds of fits, and that the
country club set was all worked up over the affair, specially one of the
young ladies that had played in mixed foursomes with Babe and probably
had the net out for him. But