“Why the ‘Gee’?” says she, glancin’ over her shoulder into the glass.

“Oh, I don’t know,” says I; “only I don’t mind bein’ grouped like this, not a bit.”

“Pooh!” says she, but still holdin’ the pose.

“Seems to me,” says I, “that Cousin Eulalia is a slick describer.  That Princess Charming business ain’t so wide.”

“Silly!” says she.  “Come and sit down.”

She was steerin’ for the windowseat; but I picks out a cozy little high-backed davenport and, reachin’ for one of her hands, swings her into that.  “Just room for two here,” says I.

“But you needn’t keep my hand,” says she.

“No trouble,” says I.  “Besides, I thought I’d inspect what kind of a manicure you take of.  M-m-m-m!  Pretty fair, no hangnails, all the half-moons showin’ proper, an——­” I broke off sudden at that and sat starin’ blank.

“Well, anything else?” says she.

“I—­I guess not,” says I, lettin’ her hand slip.  “You’ve chucked it, eh?”

“Chucked what?” says she.

“Nothing much,” says I.  “But for awhile there, you know, just for fun you was wearin’ something of mine.”

“Oh!” she flashes back.  “Then at last you’ve missed it, have you?”

“With so much else worth lookin’ at,” says I, “is it a wonder?”

“Blarney!” says she, stickin’ out her tongue.

“Did Aunty capture it?” says I.

Vee shakes her head.

“Maybe you lost it?” I goes on.  “It wa’n’t much.”

“Then you wouldn’t care if I had?” says she.

“I wanted you to keep it,” says I; “but of course, after all the row Aunty raised over it, I knew you couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t I, though?” says she, and with that she fishes up the end of a little gold neck chain from under some lace—­and hanged if there ain’t the ring!

“Vee!” says I, sort of tingly all over as I gazes at her.  “Say, you’re a corker, though!  Why, I thought sure you’d——­”

“Silly boy!” says she.  “I’ll just have to pay you for that.  You will think horrid things of me, will you?  There!”

She does things in a flash when she cuts loose too.  Next I knew she has her fingers in what Eulalia calls my crimson crest and is rumplin’ up all them curls I’d been so careful to slick back.  I grabbed her wrists, and it was more or less of a rough-house scene we was indulgin’ in, when all of a sudden the draperies are brushed back, and in stalks Aunty, with Cousin Eulalia trailin’ behind.

“Ver-ona!” Talk about havin’ a pitcher of cracked ice slipped down your back!  Say, there was more chills in that one word than ever blew down from Medicine Hat.  “What,” goes on Aunty, “does this mean?”

“It—­it’s a new game,” says I, grinnin’ foolish.

“As old as Satan, I should say!” raps out Aunty.

“Why,” squeals Cousin Eulalia gushy, “here is our Unknown Knight, the first to come back with his tribute!  Let’s see, what was it you said you were going to do?  Oh, I know—­take a chance on something fresh, wasn’t it?  Well?”