t could not resist the domineering old
creature, so she whispered:--

"Yes, mother, I promise," and the world seemed to be slipping away from
her forever.

THE DIMPLER

CHAPTER XIII

THE DIMPLER

Billy Little soon found Dic and greeted him with, "Well, we haven't got
her yet."

"No, but when she recovers, we will have her. What an idiot I was to
allow that old woman to make me angry!"

"You are right for once, Dic," was Billy's consoling reply. "She has
been waiting for an excuse to turn you from her doors, and you furnished
it. I suppose you can never enter the house again."

"I don't want to enter it, unless by force to take Rita. Why didn't I
take her long ago? It serves no purpose to call myself a fool, but--"

"Perhaps it's a satisfaction," interrupted Billy, "a satisfaction to
discover yourself at last. Self-knowledge is the summit of all wisdom."

"Ah, Billy Little, don't torture me; I am suffering enough as it is."
Billy did not answer, but took Dic's hand and held it in his warm clasp
for a little time as they walked in silence along the street.

The two disconsolate lovers who had come a-kidnapping remained over
night in Indianapolis, and after breakfast Billy suggested that they
discuss the situation in detail.

"Have you thought of any plan whereby you may communicate with Rita?" he
asked.

"No," answered Dic.

"Do you know any of her girl friends?"

"The very thing!" exclaimed Dic, joyous as possible under the
circumstances. "I'll see Miss Tousy, and she will help us, I'm sure."

"Is she sentimentally inclined?" queried Billy.

"I don't know."

"Is her face round or oval?"

"Oval," replied Dic, in some perplexity.

"Long oval?"

"Rather."

"Good!" exclaimed Billy. "Does she talk much or little?"

"Little, save at times."

"And her voice?"

"Low and soft."

"Better and better," said Billy. "What does she read?"

"She loves Shakespeare and Shelley."

"Go to her at once," cried Billy, joyfully. "I'll stake my life she'll
help. Show me a long oval face, a soft voice speaking little, and a
lover of poetry, and I'll show you the right sort of heart. But we must
begin at once. Buy a new stock, Dic, and have your shoes polished. Get a
good pair of gloves, and, if you think you can handle it properly, a
stick. Fine feathers go farther in making fine birds than wise men
suppose. Too much wisdom often blinds a man to small truths that are
patent to a fool. I wish you wer