weakening. "As we were
waiting for the car to come along I said to her: 'Maude, I am not the
man I ought to be, but I have one redeeming quality: I love you to
distraction.'

"She was about to reply when the car came. We were requested to step
lively. We did so, and the car started. Then as we stood in the crowded
aisle of the car we spoke in enigmas.

"'Did you hear what I said, Maude?' I asked.

"'Yes,' said she, gazing softly out of the window, and a slight touch of
red coming into her cheeks. 'Yes, I heard.'

"'And what is your reply?' I whispered.

"'So do I,' she answered, with a sigh."

Harry laughed, and so irritatingly that had his name been Thomas I
should have struck him.

"What is the joke?" I asked.

"You won't think it's funny," Harry answered.

"Then it must be a poor joke," I retorted, a little nettled. "Well,
it's on you," he said. "You have simply shown me that Maude never told
you she loved you. That's the joke."

I was speechless with wrath, but my eyes spoke. "How have I shown that?"
they asked in my behalf.

"You say that you told Maude that _you_ loved _her_ to distraction. To
which declaration she replied, 'So do I.' Where there is in that any
avowal that _she_ loves _you_ I fail to see. She simply stated that she
too loved herself to distraction, and I breathe again."

"Hair-splitting!" said I, wrathfully.

"No--side-splitting!" returned Harry, with a roar of laughter. "Now my
declaration was very different from yours. It was made when Maude and I
were walking home from church. It was about nine o'clock, and the
streets were bathed in mellow moonlight. I declared myself because I
could not help myself. I had no intention of doing so when I started out
earlier in the evening, but the uplifting effect of the service of song
at church, combined with the most romantic kind of a moon, forced me
into it. I told her I was a struggler; that I was not yet able to
support a wife; and that while I did not wish to ask any pledge from
her, I could not resist telling her that I loved her with all my heart
and soul."

_I_ began to feel blue. "And what did she say?" I asked, a little
hoarsely.

"She said she returned my affection."

I braced up. "Ha, ha, ha!" I laughed. "This time the joke is on you."

"I fail to see it," he said.

"Of course," I retorted. "It is not one of your jokes. But say, Harry,
when you send a poem to a magazine and the editor doesn't want it, what
does he do wi