lling a taradiddle now; but I resisted the temptation, and
replied,--

"No. And I promise not to bother you about my private affairs any
more."

Madge laughed again merrily, saying, "You are the most obvious
man I ever met. Now why did you say that?"

"I thought you were making breakfast an excuse," I said, "because
you didn't like the subject."

"Yes, I was," said Madge, frankly. "Tell me about the girl you
are engaged to."

I was so taken aback that I stopped in my walk, and merely looked
at her.

"For instance," she asked coolly, when she saw that I was
speechless, "what does she look like?"

"Like, like--" I stammered, still embarrassed by this bold
carrying of the war into my own camp,--"like an angel."

"Oh," said Madge, eagerly, "I've always wanted to know what
angels were like. Describe her to me."

"Well," I said, getting my second wind, so to speak, "she has the
bluest eyes I've ever seen. Why, Miss Cullen, you said you'd
never seen anything so blue as the sky yesterday; but even the
atmosphere of 'rainless Arizona' has to take a back seat when
her eyes are round. And they are just like the atmosphere out
here. You can look into them for a hundred miles, but you can't
get to the bottom."

"The Arizona sky is wonderful," said Madge. "How do the
scientists account for it?"

I wasn't going to have my description of Miss Cullen
side-tracked, for, since she had given me the chance, I wanted
her to know just what I thought of her. Therefore I didn't follow
lead on the Arizona skies, but went on,--

"And I really think her hair is just as beautiful as her eyes.
It's light brown, very curly, and--"

"Her complexion!" exclaimed Madge. "Is she a mulatto? And, if so,
how can a complexion be curly?"

"Her complexion," I said, not a bit rattled, "is another great
beauty of hers. She has one of those skins--"

"Furs are out of fashion at present," she interjected, laughing
wickedly.

"Now look here, Miss Cullen," I cried, indignantly, "I'm not
going to let even you make fun of her."

"I can't help it," she laughed, "when you look so serious and
intense."

"It's something I feel intense about, Miss Cullen," I said, not a
little pained, I confess, at the way she was joking. I don't mind
a bit being laughed at, but Miss Cullen knew, about as well as I,
whom I was talking about, and it seemed to me she was laughing at
my love for her. Under this impression I went on, "I suppose it
is funny to you; p