out and the panic and
tittering began, I saw my chance! I leaned forward, and in a voice
that would just reach Mary's ear I said, 'I have long wished to tell
you how my life is bound up with you, dear, and I never, never can be
happy without you'--when just then there was a mighty big shove down my
bench from the fellows beyond me, who were trying to get out. But I
held on like grim death, and struggled back again into position, and
went on: 'You'll forgive my taking a chance like this, but I felt I
could no longer conceal my love for you,' when I'm blest if there
wasn't another shove, and though I'd got hold of her little hand and
had a kind of squeeze in return, I was drifted away again and had to
fight my way back. But I managed to finish, and said, 'If the devotion
of a lifetime will atone for this hurried avowal of my love for you,
let me hope for a response,' and just then the infernal lights were
turned on, and there I was holding the widow's hand and she nestling on
my shoulder, and the two girls in hysterics on the other side. You
see, I never knew that they were shoved down on their bench every time,
just as I was, and of course when I got back to where I was I'd just
skipped one of them each time! Yes, sir! I had made that proposal in
THREE sections--a part to each girl, winding up with the mother! No
explanation was possible, and I left Simla next day. Naturally, it
wasn't a thing they could talk about, either!"

"Then you think Mrs. Awksby had nothing to do with it?" I said.

"Nothing--absolutely nothing. By the way, if you see that lady, you
might tell her that I have possession of that brocade easy-chair which
used to stand in the corner of her boudoir. You remember it,--faded
white and yellow, with one of the casters off and a little frayed at
the back, but rather soft-spoken and amiable? But of course you don't
understand THAT. I bought it after she moved into her new bungalow."

"But why should I tell her that?" I asked in wonder.

"Nothing--except that I find it very amusing with its reminiscences of
the company she used to entertain, and her confidences generally.
Good-by--take care of the lion in the hall. He always couches on the
left for a spring. Ta-ta!"

I hurried away. When I returned to Simla I told Mrs. Awksby of my
discoveries, and spoke of the armchair.

I fancied she colored slightly, but quickly recovered.

"Dear old Sparkley," she said sweetly; "he WAS a champion li