“‘Red, you’re a brick—­you’re the best fellow alive,’ says Kyle, nearly squeezing the hand off me.

“’I’ve tried to conceal it all my life, but I knew it would be discovered some day,’ says I.  ’Well, I suppose I’d better break the news to Loys—­’twouldn’t be any more than polite.’

“‘Oh, Lord!  I wonder if she’ll be willing?’ says he.

“’No reason I shouldn’t turn an honest dollar on the transaction—­I’ll bet you a month’s wages she is,’ says I. He wanted to do it, thinking I was in earnest, but I laughed at him.

“She was willing all right—­even anxious.  There’s some women, and men, too, for that matter, who go through life like a cat through a back alley, not caring a cuss for either end or the middle.  They would have been content to wait.  Not so Loys.  She wanted her Kyle, her poor Kyle, and she wanted him quick.  That’s the kind of people for me!  Your cautious folk are all the time falling down wells because their eyes are up in the air, keeping tabs so that they can dodge shooting stars.

“Now, I had a minister friend up in town, Father Slade by name.  No, he was not a Catholic, I think.  They called him ‘Father’ because it fitted him.  His church had a steeple on it, anyhow, so it was no maverick.  Just what particular kind of religion the old man had I don’t know, but I should say he was a homeopath on a guess.  He looked it.  ’Twas a comfort to see him coming down the street, his old face shining in his white hair like a shrivelled pink apple in a snowdrift, God-blessing everything in sight—­good, bad, or indifferent.  He had something pleasant to say to all.  We was quite friends, and every once in a while we’d have a chin about things.

“‘Are you keeping straight, Red?’ he’d ask when we parted.

“‘Um,’ I’d say, ’I’m afraid you’d notice a bend here and there, if you Slid your eyes along the edge.’

“‘Well, keep as straight as you can; don’t give up trying, my boy,’ he’d tell me, mighty earnest, and I’d feel ashamed of myself clear around the corner.

“I knew the old man would do me a favour if it could be done, so I pulled out easy in my mind.

“First place, I stopped at the doctor’s, because I felt they might fix up the marrying business some other time, but if a leg that’s broke in the upper joint ain’t set right, you can see a large dark-complected hunk of trouble over the party’s left shoulder for the rest of his days.  The doctor was out, so I left word for him what was wanted, and to be ready when I got back, and pulled for Father Slade’s.  The old gentleman had the rheumatism, and he groaned when I come in.  Rheumatism’s no disease for people who can’t swear.

“‘How are you, my boy?’ says he; ’I’m glad to see you.  Here am I, an old man, nipped by the leg, and much wanting to talk to somebody.’

“I passed the time of day to him, but felt kind of blue.  This didn’t look like keeping my word with the kids.  I really hated to say anything to the old man, knowing his disposition; still I felt I had to, and I out with my story.