ailment is not physical. He tries a new dodge.
Going to the window he gazes silently on the
moonlit landscape, and after a few moments, re
marks that it is a " beautiful night.” No reply to
this challenge comes from the figure on the
lounge. After a few more minutes silence,
Berg addresses his companion and propo
ses a walk in the college wood. This last
shot is enough, and his room-mate jumps
to his feet, his eyes in a “ fine frenzy,
rolling,” and tears up and down the room,
flapping his arms about and orating thus:—
Walk, walk; thunder; moonlight; yes, he
better walk, walk, till he busts; by the great
horn spoon; walk, whoop, poor girl, you
walk—and his forensic effort ends with a fierce
howl of despair, and plump down he goes on
his lounge,
Berg walks over to the window and looks
out softly chuckling to himself the while.
Nothing is heard save the softly hummed
notes, of Clementine which float idly from
Berg’s lips, until Porter interrupts him by say-
ing:—
" Say, Chet, were you ever stuck?”
" Eh, how, what?”
“ Stuck, spooney, in you know,”
" No, jiminey, why?”
“Why," with withering irony; “why, blitzen,
why; well I am."
With difficuly Berg maintains a straight
face, encourages his chum to make a full breast
of the whole business, and settles down on the
window-sill to listen to the yarn.
Thus confronted, and having confessed so
much, the unfortunate Robert proceeds, be
ginning with a question.
“Say, you know Prof, B 's niece? *
“Um, yes, nice girl, well?”
“ Well, I met her last summer and she said
she was coming up here to visit her uncle, and
asked me to call, and when she came of course
I went, and she seemed delighted to see me,"
THE FREE LANCE.
“Of course, of course, couldn’t well help
it”—encouragingly from Berg.
With a disdainful glance Bob proceeds.
"Well, I called at the Prof.’s two or three
times, rushed her to a couple of concerts,
played tennis, did it up slick.”—
“A little too slick it seems, got a terrible
case, loafed all the time, flunked straight
through, and never heeded my warning; alas,
poor Bobbie.”
“Yes, I know, but I thought she liked me
pretty well, anyhow I made up my mind to
ask her, and 1 got her to take a ramble to
night. Beautiful night, soft balmy winds were
blowing, moving the tree tops gently, and the
pale moon shining through, making dim waver
ing shadows, and golly, she was pretty.”—
“ Who, the moon ?” “ Moon, naw, had on a
white dress, and looked like—
“Whoop don't say it, might be sorry some-
time.”
“ Well, I was pretty shaky, but finally I braced
myself and said:—‘Miss B , do you like
m-usic?' Why yes, certainly, Mr. Porter, you
know I just dote on Mozart and Chopin, but
what put that in your head.” O, I was just
thinking how nice it would sound out here, I
said, and we walked on a little farther. Well,
after a while I got braced up again, and out I
blurted, Miss B ,do you like me—l spit it
out awful quick I tell you,” and he paused all
out of breath for he rattled off his yarn, as
though it were distasteful.
Not continuing, Berg asks, “Well, what did
she say?” “Say, say, blazes, she just looked
at me and laughed, and then turned away and
said:—O, Mr. Porter, I’m so sorry, but do let
us go in and have some whist,” and here Berg
actually laughed long and loud, not ceasing
until sharply admonished to cheese his insane
cackling,” “Well we came, but nary a whist,
Oh, no. Well she is going home next week,”
and with a sigh, he declares himself ready for
bed, and soon sleep heals his heart wounds.
“ 'Twere ever thus with n Junior’s loves.”