a dray about town till he was twenty, and with money
he'd saved he set up for himself in business. He's the wonder of the
town now, for he made money hand over fist. He's hitched on a brick
warehouse to his shebang, and buys cotton when it reaches its lowest ebb
and holds it till it gets to the top--then he lets loose. Me and him are
pretty thick, and when I go over there either I have to eat with him at
the hotel or he does with me. Sometimes we toss up head-or-tails to see
who pays."

"I've never seen him," Dixie said, quite interested, "but I've heard
about him. Carrie Wade said he come out to camp-meeting one Sunday, and
was pointed out as a big catch, but she said he was sort of clumsy and
awkward in his movements."

"Carrie wouldn't think his gait was so bad if he was trotting at her
side," commented Henley. "But Long's all right; he's honest, and
straight as a shingle. I'd trust him to act square in any deal, and
that's a lot to say these times. He ain't had much to do with women. You
see, they've got a sort of stuck-up society crowd over there that don't
think he's quite the thing, and so he's out of what you might call the
_elyte_. His sort are the kind that always count in any struggle,
though. He bunks in a big, wide bed in the back end of his store, and
one night when I had to lie over there because the river was out o'
banks he made me sleep with him. That was the time I advised him to
marry. It pleased him powerful, and he up and told me that he'd been
giving the matter considerable thought and investigation. He said that
every now and then it would occur to him that precious time was passing,
but that he'd been so busy he'd not had time to go at it right. He said
that most of the women on any list of the kind he'd seen was fussy and
looked lazy and thriftless. Then he come right out and asked me if I
happened to know a suitable candidate, and--well, Dixie, I couldn't hold
in. I talked as earnest as a preacher at a ranting revival. I had his
eye and I helt it clean through. I described you to him and--"

"You did?" Dixie laid an eager hand on his arm and laughed merrily,
"What did you say? Tell me exactly. I won't let you leave till you do.
Tell me, Alfred."

"Oh, I couldn't do that, Dixie!" Henley flushed to his hat. "I'd make a
botch of it. I could talk to him, but I couldn't to you--at least--at
least not on that line."

"But you've _got_ to do it!" the girl insisted. "I want to hear it. I've
alw