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 "What on earth are you talking about?" butts in Judy, in well fained and a bit angry surprise. "Rags had nothing to do with my getting a position in his father's office. I applied there and was engaged by Mr. Young, the head clerk. As for Rags pestering me, well, Gale, I feel quite capable of taking care of myself under any and all circumstances. What right have you to question my actions?"

"In other words, what you do is none of my business, hey?" I says.

"You're not my brother, Gale," says Judy—and the thermometer slides down past zero.

"I don't doubt that," I says. "But I thought I was your boy friend. I guess women is all alike!"

"Indeed!" says Judy, a bonfire in each eye. "You seem to know a lot about women, Mister Gale."

Mister!

"I'm off women for life, Miss Willcox," I says in a dignified way. "I am convinced that the fellow which understands women can also understand what a couple of flies says to each other when they meet on a window-pane! You know Rags Dempster hates the ground I walk on, and yet you go to work with him in his father's office—like that was the only job in the United States of America. It looks like you are giving me a pushing around, Miss Willcox. O. K.—don't be surprised if you read in to-night's paper where I have left for—for Gehenna, or some distant country like that. You made me what I am to-day; I hope you're satisfied!"

With these few remarks, I turn on my rubber heel