"What did I tell you to do, first?" he asked, playfully.
"To fall in love."
"Which you have not yet done!"
The young man shook his head.
"Good Heavens! And you have lost more than a week!"
Roseleaf colored more than ever.
"Isn't there something else—that I could—begin on?" he asked, humbly.
"I don't know of anything. Love is the alphabet of the novelist. You'd best go straight. Aren't there any eligible young women at your lodging house?"
The younger man thought a moment.