" Dickie flushed guiltily and hastily got on his feet. "Come on," he said; "I guess we'd better be going." Very frankly Rosie looked her opinion of me as we left.

It was interesting to note the elaborate strategy used by Dickie to conceal the fact that he waved his handkerchief to her. There ensued a long silence between us, but of this Dickie seemed unconscious. He broke it by whistling "Bedelia" two notes off the key.

"It's too bad, Dickie," I said, finally, "that you dislike girls so much." "They're a silly lot," said Dickie, with a brave effort at a tired drawl. "But Rosie, now--" "Oh, she's not like the rest of them.

She's rather jolly." "Conceited little beggar, though, I suppose?" "No, sir; not a bit. She's just the right kind.

" Then Dickie flushed and the conversation lapsed suddenly. We were to go sailing on the river next morning, but when the time came Dickie pleaded delay. He had "promised to take a book to a friend.