urself?" says I.

"It's my own discovery," says he.

"Then there's hope," says I. "So the twins have been gettin' you
worried, eh? Where's Miss Gertie?"

That gives Pinckney the hard luck cue, and while we jogs along towards
his new place in the tub cart he tells me all about what's been
happenin'. First off he owns up that he's queered his good start with
Miss Gertie by bein' in such a rush to flash the solitaire spark on
her. She ain't used to Pinckney's jumpy ways. They hadn't been
acquainted much more'n a week, and he hadn't gone through any of the
prelim's, when he ups and asks her what day it will be and whether she
chooses church or parsonage. Course she shies at that, and the next
thing Pinckney knows she's taken a train West, leavin' him with the
twins on his hands, and a nice little note sayin' that while she
appreciates the honour she's afraid he won't do.

"And you're left at the post?" says I.

"Yes," says he. "I couldn't take the twins and follow her, but I could
telegraph. My first message read like this, 'What's the matter with
me?' Here is her answer to that," and he digs up a yellow envelope
from his inside pocket.

"Not domestic enough. G." It was short and crisp.

He couldn't give me his come back to that, for he said it covered three
blanks; but it was meant to be an ironclad affidavit that he could be
just as domestic as the next man, if he only had a chance.

"And then?" says I.

"Read it," says he, handin' over Exhibit Two.

"You have the chance now," it says. "Manage the twins for a month, and
I will believe you."

And that was as far as he could get. Now, first and last, I guess
there's been dozens of girls, not countin' all kinds of widows, that's
had their lassoes out for Pinckney. He's been more or less interested
in some; but when he really runs across one that's worth taggin' she
does the sudden duck and runs him up against a game like this.

"And you're tryin' to make good, eh?" says I. "What's your program?"

For Pinckney, he hadn't done so worse. First he hunts up the only aunt
he's got on his list. She's a wide, heavy weight old girl, that's lost
or mislaid a couple of husbands, but hasn't ever had any kids of her
own, and puts in her time goin' to Europe and comin' back. She was
just havin' the trunks checked for Switzerland when Pinckney locates
her and tells how glad he is to see her again. Didn't she want to
change her plans and stay a month or so