“‘Oh, bother the money! my Lottie is worth a hundred thousand such gold mines!’
“‘Yes, but in my case, you see, it is different; I don’t care so much for the money, you know, but it makes honors easy between Viola and me.’
“‘Very good; now, go on and tell me how you succeeded with Viola.’
“‘I shall do so cheerfully; because I like to talk with you about such things, for you are in a condition to appreciate my narrative. Well, you see, when Lottie put Viola and me to winding thread, it afforded a topic of conversation; that was very thoughtful in Lottie, wasn’t it?’
“‘I think it was; but go on with your story.’
“‘You see when the thread would get tangled we had to help each other fix it.’
“‘“Run the ball through here, Mr. Wallingford,” said Viola, “no, not that way, but the other—just here between my hands; there, that’s right; no, I beg pardon, it was all my fault, for you were doing it right before I spoke; you’ll have to run the ball back the same way between my hands.”
“‘Now, Ed, you must understand that while all this was going on I was not looking at the hank of thread, but was gazing intently at the beautiful darling before me. As a natural result, instead of untangling the thread, we kept making it worse. I shall hereafter recommend all bashful young people to wind yarn when they wish to make love—there’s nothing equal to it, as an entering-wedge to conversation.
“‘“Stop, Viola,” said I, as I took hold of her little hand, “you have got this thread in a desperate fix; let me hold this end on your wrist while you untangle the other.”
“‘This gave me an excuse to hold her hand, which I assure you I did.