and won something—­a hanging lamp or a celluloid manicure set in a plush-lined box—­he’d simply put it up to be raffled off again for the good of the cause.  And none of that moonlight loitering along shaded streets for him, where the dirk is so often drove stealthily between a man’s ribs, and him thinking all the time he’s only indulging in a little playful nonsense.  Often as not he’d take two girls at once, where all could be merry without danger of anything happening.

“It was no time at all till this was found out on him.  It was seen that under a pleasing exterior, looking all too easy to overcome by any girl in her right mind, he had powers of resistance and evasion that was like steel.  Of course this only stirred the proud beauties on to renewed and crookeder efforts.  Every darned one of ’em felt that her innocent young girlhood was challenged, and would she let it go at that?  Not so.  My lands!  What snares and deadfalls was set for this wise old timber wolf that didn’t look it, with his smiling ways and seemingly careless response to merry banter, and so forth!

“And of course every one of these shrinking little scoundrels thought at once of her new riding costume, so no time at all was lost in organizing the North Side Riding and Sports Club, which Mr. Burchell Daggett gladly joined, having, as he said, an eye for a horse and liking to get out after banking hours to where all Nature seems to smile and you can let your mount out a bit over the firm, smooth road.  Them that had held off until now, on account of the gossip and leering, hurried up and got into line with No. 9872 in the mail-order catalogue, or went to Miss Gunslaugh, who by this time had a female wax dummy in her window in a neat brown suit and puttees, with a coat just opening and one foot advanced carelessly, with gauntlets and a riding crop, and a fetching little cap over the wind-blown hair and the clear, wonderful blue eyes.  Oh, you can bet every last girl of the bunch was seeing herself send back picture postals to her rivals telling what a royal time they was having at Palm or Rockaway Beach or some place, and seeing the engraved cards—­’Mr. and Mrs. Burchell Daggett, at Home After the Tenth, Ophir Avenue, Red Gap, Wash.’

“Ain’t we good when you really get us, if you ever do—­because some don’t.  Many, indeed!  I reckon there never was a woman yet outside of a feeb’ home that didn’t believe she could be an A. No. 1 siren if she only had the nerve to dress the part; never one that didn’t just ache to sway men to her lightest whim, and believe she could—­not for any evil purpose, mind you, but just to show her power.  Think of the tender hearts that must have shuddered over the damage they could and actually might do in one of them French bathing suits like you are said to witness in Paris and Atlantic City and other sinks of iniquity.  And here was these well-known society favourites wrought up by this legible party, as the French say, till each one was ready to go just as far as the Civic Purity League would let her in order to sweep him off his feet in one mad moment.  Quite right, too.  It all depends on what the object is, don’t it; and wasn’t theirs honourable matrimony with an establishment and a lawn in front of it with a couple of cast-iron moose, mebbe?