ripen, were busily engaged in shrinking up to
nothingness. Miss Imogene Jones noticed this
tendency on the part of her favorite vegetable and
hastened to the garden to gather hers while green,
deciding that to have them in pickle was better
than not having them at all. Imogene was an ex
cellent housekeeper and it was rather hard on her
nerves to think of those fine tomatoes being en
cased in jars in the musty cellar instead of hang•
ing, as she had hoped, red and glorious on the
vine, the wonder of all persons who might happen
to pass by the garden, which lay along the one
straggling street of Cortsleville. It was so trying
to her vanity that she wept copiously in the new
gingham apron which her father, Squire Jones,
had given her on her twenty-fifth birthday. The
work was laborious and it was some time before
she succeeded in filling her basket. At length it
was done, and she was about to pick up the heavy
load and retire to the house when a cheery voice,
coming from the road behind her, cried "Ah
Miss, allow me to assist." Then she heard a gen
tle whirr as of some one vaulting the fence and a
few violent remarks as some one crashed into 'a
blackberry bush, and then looking up she saw be
fore her a young man, apparently of about the age
of twenty. He was of medium height, wore a
Prince Albert coat, a pair of light trousers, a flan
nel shirt and a blue and white tennis cap. In one
hand he carried a large valise and an umbrella,
and in the other a black leather sample case.
Imogene blushed fiercely and tried to remon
strate with him, but it was of no use. He delib
erately picked up the basket and started toward
the house.
"No, no trouble at all Miss," he exclaimed, as
he put the tomatoes down on the porch, placed
his umbrella in one corner and then commenced
to unstrap his sample case.
But perhaps I had better enlighten you as to who
I am," he repeated as be held toward her a neat
looking card, She took it and read.
THE FREE LANCE.
"No trouble at all.
Alexander de Linabrger,
P—University, Agent for
C—and C—,
"Now,Madame," he continued, "I have for sale
here a fine lot of stereoptican views, taken from
all over the World. All you have to do is simply
to subscribe ten dollars, and in two weeks our
firm will forward you a set of these unrivaled pic
tures. This, for instance, represents the the Giants
Causeway in California." Thus he rattled on,
describing his views until the fair Imogene thought
him a marvel of learning. After about an hour's
time he exhausted his stock and was about to start
over again, when she informed him that, before
she could subscribe, she would have to consult her
father who would be home in a few hours time.
Nothing loath at the long wait, he switched off in
to his college career. He told her how he was to
be graduated with honors the next year, how he
was selling stereoptican views to wile away the
summer vacation. He told her of his wonderful
feats in at hletics,—how his one handed• catch of a
hot liner had saved the University Nine from a
direful defeat six weeks before ; how just in the
last minute of the last half of the great match with
C—College for the championship of the State,
when the score was four to zero in favor of C--'s
eleven, he had carried the ball the whole length
of the field, made a touch-down, won the game
and fainted; he told her how but three weeks
previous he had put the shot fifty feet amid the ap
plauds of admiring multitudes.
In fact, it seemed to Imogene that what he had
not done was not worth doing. His tales of col
lege:life seemed to her but stories of mythical lands,
where he was the hero worshipped by all, and be
fore the Squire had returned home she recogniz
ed in him the beau chevelier for whom she had jilted
three farmers, a well-to do store-keeper and a sew
ing machine agent. As to his sentiments, they
were just the same as those of any other young
man would be, after a three hours tete-a-tete on
H—, Mc