irst month he bought in San Lorenzo a resplendent black
suit, and an amazing dress shirt with an ivy pattern, worked in white
silk, meandering down and up the bosom. To oblige Ajax he tried on
these garments in our presence, and spoke hopefully of the future,
which he said was sure to bring to his wardrobe another shirt and
possibly a silk hat. We took keen interest in these important matters,
and assured Jasperson that it would afford us the purest pleasure to
see once more a silk hat. Then Ajax indiscreetly asked if he was about
to commit matrimony.

"Boys," he replied, blushing, "I'd ought to be engaged, but I ain't.
Don't give me away, but I ain't got no best girl--not a one.
Surprisin', yes, sir, considerin' how I'm fixed--most _sur_prisin'."

He took off his beautiful coat, and wrapped it carefully in tissue
paper. We were sitting on the verandah after supper, and were well
into our second pipes. The moonlight illumined the valley, but
Jasperson's small delicate face was in shadow. From the creek hard by
came the croaking of many frogs, from the cow pasture the shrilling of
the crickets. A cool breeze from the Pacific was stirring the leaves
of the willows and cottonwoods, and the wheat, now two feet high,
murmured praise and thanksgiving for the late rains. When nature is
eloquent, why should a mortal refrain from speech?

"Boys," continued Jasperson; "I'm a-goin' to tell ye something;
because--well, because I feel like it. I've never had no best girl!"
"Jasperson," said Ajax, "I can't believe that. What! you, a young
and----"

"I ain't young," interrupted the man of independent means. "I'm nigh
on to thirty-six. Don't flim-flam me, boys. I ain't young, and I ain't
beautiful, but fixed up I am--dressy, an' that should count."

"It does count," said my brother, emphatically. "I've seen you,
Jasperson, on Sundays, when I couldn't take my eyes off you. The girls
must be crazy."

"The girls, gen'lemen, air all right; the trouble ain't with them.
It's with me. Don't laugh: it ain't no laughin' matter. Boys--I'm
bashful. That's what ails Jasper Jasperson. The girls," he cried
scornfully; "you bet they know a soft snap when they see it, and I am
a soft snap, an' don't you forget it!

"I left my own land," he continued dreamily, in a soft, melancholy
voice, "because there ain't a lady within fifteen miles o' my barn,
and here there's a village, and----"

"Her name, please," said Ajax, with authority; "you must