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"Would I not tell my dream, as nice young men in the Bible always did?"

almost pleasing. "Good-bye, Smith, remember your failings."

"Good-day, sir," she said, with forced severity, but as I smiled apologetically and moved my rein, she broke down under new temptation and, as the wagon moved away, twittered after me unseen,--"Good-bye, Mr. Smith."

The smoker twinkled. "You're different from Ned Ferry," he said.

I was in the sweetest consternation. With the end of her braid once more in my fingers I made her promise to keep the dark secret, and so recited them.

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