"She says she supposes my hair is gray! She doesn't know I am as bald as a gourd. Here is her miniature. I'll not send her mine; she might laugh."
Dic took the picture and saw a sweet, tender face, fringed by white curls, and aglow with soft, brown eyes.
"Do you see a resemblance in the miniature to—to any one you know?" asked Billy Little.
"By George!" exclaimed Dic, holding the picture at arm's length, "Rita—her mouth, her eyes; the same name, too," and he kissed the miniature rapturously.
"Look here, young fellow," cried Billy Little. "Hand me that miniature. You shan't be kissing all my female friends. By Jove! if she were to come over here, I'd drive you out of the settlement with a shot-gun, 'deed if I wouldn't. Now you will probably change your mind about unselfishly surrendering Rita to Williams. I tell you, Dic, a fool conscience is more to be dreaded than a knavish heart."
"You are always right, Billy Little, though, to tell you the truth, I had no intention whatever of surrendering Rita to any one," returned Dic.
"I know you hadn't. Of course I knew you could not even have spoken about it had you any thought that it might be possible."