y? Why, of course. The heroine of each of the novels he had read,
was always receiving toothsome dainties and showers of roses from her
many admirers. But he couldn't afford both methods of expressing his
devotion, and candy alone would have to do. This taking your best girl
to a show promised to be far more expensive than he had thought.

Need it be said that his shoes were veritable ebony mirrors, that
eventful evening? Or that his ears were clean, even to the very recesses
under the lobes? And when such a thing occurs, you may be sure that
Solomon in all his glory was arrayed no more immaculately than that
small boy.

He presented himself promptly at the door of the Martin flat at
half-past seven. Louise was in her room while Mrs. Martin added the
finishing touches to the party dress which she was wearing in honor of
the occasion, so he shoved the two-pound box of dipped caramels, ordered
in spite of paternal objections, into his overcoat pocket and sat down
in the big parlor rocker to wait.

Shortly thereafter, Sid appeared with a tissue-wrapped bouquet of roses
in his hand. "For Louise," he told Mrs. Martin.

John glared at him stolidly, and regretted his choice of candy. It would
have taken a little of that confident smile away, if his rival had found
himself antedated by a gift of a similar nature.

A quarter of an hour later found them bouncing along over the same car
line which John had used on the ticket quest. The conveyance was poorly
heated, but the children were too excited to notice the cold. Louise was
wearing two of the roses on her frock, and Sid was in high spirits
accordingly.

"Ever been out West, Louise?" he asked with a side glance at John. The
lady shook her head.

"I was, all last vacation--real ranch, real cowboys. Used to take pony
rides every day."

John sketched a caricature on the frosty window pane and sulked in
silence. Why didn't his folks make enough money to take him on such
summer jaunts? Then he wouldn't have to sit like a dummy and listen to
his rival out-talk him with the one girl he cared anything about.

"And walk?" continued Sid, secure in his romancing, now that he knew
that neither of his auditors had been beyond the Mississippi. "Why, the
air's so fine that you can walk ever so far without feeling tired.
Breakfast at the ranch was at seven, and once, I walked twenty miles
just to get up an appetite for it."

"That's nothing," John snapped moodily. "I walked thirty