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plant likes to see a little sport now and then. I don’t suppose there’s another green thing in New York that sees as much of gay life unless it’s the chartreuse or the sprigs of parsley around the dish.”

When the girl opens the door in steps a young chap in a travelling cap and picks her up in his arms, and she sings out “Oh, Dick!” and stays there long enough to—well, you’ve been a rubber plant, too, sometimes, I suppose.

“Good thing!” says I to myself. “This is livelier than scales and weeping. Now there’ll be something doing.”

“You’ve got to go back with me,” says the young man. “I’ve come two thousand miles for you. Aren’t you tired of it yet, Bess? You’ve kept all of us waiting so long. Haven’t you found out yet what is best?”

“The bubble burst only to-day,” says the girl. “Come here, Dick, and see what I found the other day on the sidewalk for sale.” She brings him by the hand and exhibits yours truly. “How one ever got away up here who can tell? I bought it with almost the last money I had.”

He looked at me, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off her for more than a second.

“Do you remember the night, Bess,” he said, “when we stood under one of those on the bank of the bayou and what you told me then?”

“Geewillikins!” I said to myself. “Both of them