the conditions had been warring upon the
small obstacle for many months, and still it was as small as ever--but
no smaller. The non-aggressive, feather-bed stubbornness of
insignificant obstacles is often very irritating to an enterprising
soul.

Williams was a fine, intellectual fellow, and his knowledge of human
nature had enabled him to estimate--at least to approximate--the
inestimable value of the girl he so ardently desired. Her rare beauty
would, he thought, grace a palace; while her manifold virtues and good
common-sense would accomplish a much greater task, and grace a home.
Added to these reasons of state was a passionate love on the part of
Williams of which any woman might have been proud. Williams was,
ordinarily, sure-footed, and would have made fewer mistakes in his
wooing had his love been less feverish. He also had a great fund of
common-sense, but love is inimical to that rare commodity, and under the
blind god's distorting influence the levelest head will, in time, become
conical. So it happened that, after many months of cautious
manoeuvring, Williams began to make mistakes.

For the sake of her parents and Tom, Rita had treated Williams with
quiet civility, and when she learned that she could do so without
precipitating a too great civility on his part, she gathered confidence
and received him with undisguised cordiality. Roger, in his eagerness,
took undue hope. Believing that the obstacle had become very small, he
determined, upon occasion, to remove it entirely, by one bold stroke.
Rita's kindness and Roger's growing hope and final determination to try
the issue of one pivotal battle, all came into being during the period
when Dic had reduced his visits to one month. The final charge by the
Boston 'vincibles was made on the evening following Dic's visit
last-mentioned.

An ominous quiet had reigned in the Williams camp for several months,
and the beleaguered city, believing that hostilities had ceased, was
lulled into a state of unwatchfulness, which, in turn, had given great
hope to the waiting cohorts.

Upon the Monday evening referred to, the girl commanding the beleaguered
forces received the enemy, whom she wished might be her friend, into her
outworks, the front parlor. Little dreaming that a perfidious Greek was
entering her Trojan gates, she laughed and talked charmingly, hoping, if
possible, to smooth the road for her father and Tom by the help of her
all-powerful smiles. Poor and