occasion she
was deriving a good deal of pleasure from the situation. The attitude of
a young lady of nineteen, about to emerge into society, vis-a-vis with a
youngster sprouting out of his first long trousers, particularly when he
happens to be the brother of a best friend, is a fairly obvious one.
There is no excitement to be derived but a certain amount of exercise. A
fisherman is necessarily a man who enjoys catching fish, and if trout
are not rising to the fly, sitting on the edge of the wharf and hauling
in suckers is still fishing.

At the end of the afternoon Skippy was head over heels in love. If he
had had the opportunity he would have trusted her with the secret of his
life's ambition--the Bathtub and the Mosquito-Proof Socks. But Miss Mimi
was too busy extracting information about the Triumphant Egghead (who
had countered by steadfastly devoting himself to Miss Biggs) and certain
sentimental chapters in the past of her best friend in which she had had
a revisionary interest. These subtleties naturally were beyond the
experience of Skippy, in fact he was quite unable to reason on anything.
His heart was swollen to twice its natural size, his pulse was racing,
and the next moment with the wrench of the farewell, he felt in a numb
despair, the light go out of the day, and a vast sinking weight rushing
him down into chill regions of loneliness.

"Say Skippy, old sporting life," said Turkey Reiter, speaking over his
head to the Egghead, who was in a terrific sulk, "How do you do it?"

"Do what, Turk?"

"Why, my boy, you're the quickest worker I ever saw; I thought the
Egghead knew his business, but he's a babe, a suckling to you!"

"Mimi Lafontaine is the damnedest little flirt I ever met," said the
Egghead, with a slash of his whip which sent the buggy careening on two
wheels.

"Hold on there!" said Turkey, grabbing the reins. "I've got to live
another week. Well, Skippy, my hat's off to you, old sporting life.
You've got her feeding out of your hand. . . . And Mimi too, right under
the Egghead's eye!"

"Oh, come off now, Turkey," said Skippy, to whom this light badinage was
torture.

"Shucks!" said the Egghead, "you know her game."

"Well you played a pretty slick game yourself, old horse, but how did
you enjoy Miss Biggs?"

"You go chase yourself," said the Egghead, flinging the remnants of a
cream puff at the horse, which kept Turkey busy for the next five
minutes.

Skippy scarcely heard. All h