as bubbles do
when they burst." Two merry peals of laughter echoed through the
pine-scented woods.

"Sh! Jack, it is Sunday. I forgot all about it, and we must go home.
Papa will wonder where I am," and a little red spot burned on each cheek
as she surmized what "papa" would say when he found out that the young
man from Boston "proposed to splurge."

But Jack's splurging was all make-believe. In the shadowy recesses of
the great elms, as they retraced their steps toward the Hemmingway
mansion, a manly arm stole about the waist of the lithesome girl, whose
demure "yes" had to be sealed in order to make it real. Mr. Hemmingway
was in the library as they entered the house. Jack nudged Hazel at the
portentously contracted brows of papa and the stern look of inquiry
which followed. Hazel quickly stepped into the hall, leaving Jack alone.

"Papa, Jack--Mr. Sheppard--wants to speak to you a moment," then she
flew past the meekest man that ever tried to splurge.

"Mr. Hemmingway"-- Jack got that far and it seemed as though every
whisker in that stern face became a bristling bayonet. "I think you must
be able to guess my mission."

"What? No--no. Jack, you--why, you are but a boy, and Hazel"-- A softer,
kindlier expression crept slowly into the face of the man whose only
daughter he suddenly realized had become a woman. "Jack, I moved here to
keep my child--to get her away from the--from the--it is no use, though.
I guess you will be good to her. Let me see, you are the boy who got
such an awful whipping once because you would not be a tell-tale, and a
boy that has that kind of grit, I guess, is the right stuff to be my
son-in-law. Hazel"--

The stern old man went out upon the lawn as Hazel re-entered the
library. A noise as of some one vigorously using a handkerchief broke
the stillness, but even then the old man chuckled as he saw two figures
silhouetted upon the curtain. "Celebrating my consent, I guess," he
soliloquized.

"Hazel, you had better pull down the green shade." Then to himself,
"These children have no conception of the propriety of things."

CHAPTER II.

ON THE "FIRING LINE" OF CIVILIZATION.

The summer vacation period found Jack among the old hills of Bozrah, his
first visit to the scenes of his childhood since making Boston his home.
Six years' business and social life in and about the "Hub" launched Jack
upon the world a polished gentleman, refined, cultured, energetic, well
qualified to st