ts to pass you on the box. Suppose I
must hand it back to him now."

"Do, Cupid dear," urged Win. "But you shan't lose by that. I know you
meant no harm, and I'll give you fifty cents myself when I get my
pay."

"What kind of a jay do you take me for?" snorted Cupid. "Men don't
accept no lucre from ladies where _I_ live. I'll go chuck the guy back
his marshmallers and his dirty money, since you put it that way, my
baby doll."

"Where is he? Waiting for you somewhere to hear the news?"

Cupid tossed his curls in the direction of the moving staircase, which
in Toyland was known as the "Oscillator." A bored-looking youth was
stationed officially at the top in order to catch any ascending lady
who might threaten to fall; but as only the oldest and frailest ever
did so, his bored expression had become chronic.

"Chap's down at the foot o' that," confessed the boy. "But say, won't
you just look and see if there's a note under the cover? Maybe he's
slipped in a Christmas gift of a hundred-dollar bill or a diamond
tiarey."

"I've no curiosity," said Win. "You may tell your friend that,
and---"

"Oh, _I_ know! Tell him he'd darned better not try the same snap
again."

"Yes," laughed Win. "Exactly."

Cupid darted away with the box, striding down the "osculator" as it
came rolling up, a feat forbidden. But the boy was a law unto himself
and was seldom scolded. When he had gone Win wished that she had
thought to ask how the man had found out her liking for marshmallows
But perhaps he had invited a suggestion from Cupid. Or the
marshmallows might be a coincidence.

She did not for an instant doubt that the would-be giver was Mr.
Logan, and she half hoped there was a note inside the box, in order
that he might feel the mortification of getting it back unopened. She
hoped, also, that the disappointment might be a lesson which Mr. Logan
would take to heart, and--unless he were prepared to transfer his
attentions to Miss Leavitt or some one else equally ready to receive
them--that he would not again invade the busy land of toys.

An hour later, however, he returned and loitered about, ostentatiously
waiting until Miss Leavitt should be free to serve him. Win was
showing dolls to a fussy woman who could not be satisfied with the
most beguiling porcelain or waxen smile. At last, having looked at
several dozens, she flounced away, announcing that she would go to
Bimgel's. This threat, being uttered in a voice intentionally