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favorable to Clark, and so were her friends. They seemed to be a little afraid of me. Honestly, I don't see how I ever won out, but I did. We have been engaged for three months."

"Well, what are you beefing about, then ?" asked Pete, in surprise.

"Just this. The more I saw of her and the more I thought about it, the clearer it looked to me that she is too good a girl for me. She's finer than I am in every way. She is in a different class. She ought to marry a man like Clark. So about two weeks ago I finally made up my mind that I had no business to marry that kind of a girl, and I wrote her a letter and told her so, and broke the whole thing off. Now you can understand something about that Decatur business and last night. I never mailed the letter to her. I carried it in my pocket. Here it is," and Bob drew the letter from his pocket. "Here is where it goes into the mail-box, and don't you forget it."

Bob arose from the chair, but Pete seized him by the arm and drew him back.

"Wait a minute. Let me tell you what I think about it. You've got the wrong slant at women, Bob. If you post that letter you will be making a bigger fool of yourself than you did last night, and that's going some. I married a fine girl myself, and before we got married I felt something like you do, but did I back up and get my leg over the tug? Nit-I went ahead with it, and it was the luckiest thing I ever did. If you were a boozer, why, then, I'd say post that letter, the sooner the better. If a man can't control himself before he gets married, why, it's a cinch that he won't do it afterward; but do you know why she tied up to you? It's because she thought you are a whole lot of a man, and she was right about it, too. No doubt she is better than you are. I know that my wife is better than I am, but that was my good luck. The biggest asset that I've got is the confidence and admiration of my wife. There isn't anything that makes a man hump himself like having a high-toned wife that thinks he is somebody and can do big things. I can sell twice as many goods just because my wife thinks that I'm a corking good salesman. Half the fun of doing business comes from doing it for her. What do you propose to do, anyway, Bob? Throw that girl down-a good girl that thinks a lot of you and keep on associating with a bunch like that last night? Is that the way to

amount to something? Bob, you make me tired!"

"But look here, Pete, she wouldn't be happy with me. I am not her equal. She—” "Oh, come off! Don't you suppose she knows what she wants? You don't size up a woman right. You are too logical. You assume that two and two always makes four, and of course it does in mathematics, but with a woman two and two sometimes makes eight or nine-it all depends. If a fellow strikes a girl's imagination and she gets stuck on him, why, no other kind of a man has got a look-in. A girl may be educated and artistic and religious and everything else that's fine, but she's a woman just the same, and when the woman in her breaks loose, why, all that literary and artistic stuff don't go. My wife knows twice as much as I do about books and music and religion, but she thinks that Pete is the big noise all the same, and there isn't a happier home anywhere than mine. If a woman cares for her husband, and he goes out and does things and brings home the bacon and he thinks a lot of her, why, she will be happy good and plenty. Aren't you equal to that? Why, sure. Bob, you act like a chump!"

"Maybe you are right, Pete. If I only " "Why, sure I am right. There isn't anything else to it. Take it from me, Bob, the thing to do is to tear that letter up and stand by your guns."

Cartright held the letter up and gazed at it a moment, then he slowly tore it into bits. It was a month later when Pete met Cartright again.

"How is everything going, Bob?" he inquired.

"Business is good, if that's what you want to know."

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Yes; but how about that other matter? How is the young lady?"

"The truth is I don't know how she is." "Say, now, you didn't—”

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No, I didn't, but she did. I guess I might as well give you the rest of it, Pete," and he drew from his pocket a letter which he handed over without comment.

It was an earnest and dignified letter, in which she explained that certain things had come to her knowledge which convinced her that she had been mistaken in him, and she did not dare intrust her future to his care. "I do not think I need to tell you," she wrote in conclusion, "how distressed and grieved I am to break off our relations, but it

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THEY CAN'T PUT ME INTO THE DOWN-AND-OUT CLUB JUST BECAUSE I MADE ONE OR TWO BREAKS-NOT ON YOUR LIFE!"

simply must be done. I am returning the ring to you by express. I can only say that I sincerely hope that this may not cause you the heartache that it has caused me. It will be useless to communicate with me any further. This must be the end of it, but I shall always hope for your welfare and happiness. Sincerely, Hattie."

Pete gave a low whistle as he handed back the letter. "That is a mighty high-toned girl-a fine girl and no mistake. She got on to that Decatur blow-out, didn't she?" "Sure; and I don't blame her at all. She thinks I'm a thoroughbred sport."

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Sure I do, Bob. Come over here and sit down. I want to give you a little spiel about women. Your case isn't so bad. If you will go to it you can win out yet, but you have got to make a fight for it. Give her the facts. The longer I sell goods the more confidence I have in facts. It's facts that do the business, and the facts are on your side —that is, you are really the kind of man that she thought you were in the first place. Write her a long letter and tell her just what you told me that Sunday. Let her understand that you don't propose to give her up. Tell her just what you are doing, and what you are going to do. Write to her once or

twice a month.

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Send her your sales sheets. Show her that you are doing business and that you are on the square, and—”

“Oh, but that Decatur business would queer any man with a girl like Hattie Jameson. Why, Pete, she's the finest—”

"Sure she is, but see here: no matter how good a woman is, she don't object to a man just because he's got it in him to be a sport, provided she can be reasonably sure that he'll sit on the lid. It's up to you to sit tight. See?"

"Would you go and see her, Pete?"

"Nit. Stay away from her for four months-six months. Wait until you have proved your case."

"Yes, and Clark won't do a thing to me. He is right there on the ground and everything is in his favor."

"What of it? When a merchant is going to buy a new stock of goods, do you quit because some competitor has got a pull on him and is after the order? Here is a girl that is worth more than a big stock of goods. Go to it, Bob, and, you take it from me, you have got the pole and Clark is trotting around the outside. 'Cause why? Because the girl is stuck on you, and girls are sentimental. Every time she sees Clark she will think of Bob off yonder working his head off to make good. See?"

About two months later, when Pete met Cartright again, he immediately inquired how the affair was progressing.

"It's hard to tell," replied Bob. "I have been writing to her every two weeks and—” "Has she answered your letters?" "No; but she hasn't sent them back." "That is a good sign. It's dollars to doughnuts that she reads them every night before she goes to bed. What kind of a showing have you made in business?"

"Fine. My sales are larger than ever, and last week I got a letter from the company; here's a copy of it."

The letter was as follows:

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When the brakeman called the station and Robert Cartright rose to get off the train, it seemed to him that every one in the car must know that this was the town where Hattie Jameson lived.

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'Gee, what a difference it makes with a town when a girl like Hattie is in it!" he muttered, as he stepped out upon the platform. There was an undeniable significance to everything he saw. This street where he was walking-probably she had passed along here this morning. That small boy over there must know her. She had probably attended school in that building across the street. He had written to her that he was coming. He had not seen her or heard from her for six months. As he approached the Jameson residence his heart was beating a violent tattoo. Despite the fact that the strong case which he intended to present had looked almost unanswerable as he thought it over on the train, he now felt somewhat like a prisoner going to his execution. Hattie met him at the door.

"Good-evening," said Bob.

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for six months. When I got your letterI don't blame you at all, Hattie—I had made an awful fool of myself—I didn't think I'd ever have a ghost of a show again-the only thing-it seemed to me that if you only knew how much I cared for you-if you knew the facts-how much I need you—”

"That is just what makes me afraid, Robert," interrupted Hattie. "If a man thinks he needs a wife to help him keep his habits right, it is bound to end in disappointment for-"

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You don't understand, Hattie. I don't need you to help me keep straight. I told you the truth in my letter; how that all happened. I am not in the habit of drinking, and whether you turn me down or not I shall hold myself up four square and do something in the world; but I need you because you are finer than I am. I can do more and be more with you. If I am your husband, I shall be a bigger man-a better man, see? I did think I wasn't fit to be. I wrote you all about that. It wasn't my habits-it was me. I'm not educated, as you are. You have got a finer mind. are better than I am. But I have changed my mind about one thing. I know I can make you happy. I am the very fellow that you thought I was when we became engaged. I can make a great big fight in the world for you, Hattie-believe me, I can."

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"But, Bob, dear-" she checked herself, and her face flushed crimson.

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Say it again!" cried Bob, delightedly. "I never heard anything sound so good in my life! Say it again, Hattie! You are going to say yes, aren't you? Come now. You are going to say yes, aren't you, Hattie?" "Yes. Bob," she murmured.

It would have been a most appropriate thing if he had enfolded her in his arms and kissed her passionately, but instead he stepped over and leaned against the mantel and surveyed her with the pride and radiance of a victorious young manhood.

"I would like to have your picture just now, Bob," smiled Hattie. "You look like a conqueror."

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Why, believe me, it's a great pleasure," laughed Pete. "I don't know whether Bob has told you-”

"Indeed he has," said Mrs. Cartright, smilingly, "and I hardly know what to say. I-"

"I'll tell you what she said last night," interrupted Bob. "She said that if she should meet Pete Crowther she would be tempted to hug him."

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Now, Bob !" protested his wife. "That's better than if you wanted to kick me," grinned Pete. "Come on down to supper. I've got to take the seven o'clock train. We can get a table over in the corner. I want to show you a picture of my wife and boy, Mrs. Cartright."

After a jolly supper Pete was compelled to hurry for the train. Just as he stepped into the bus he called to Cartright.

"Oh, Bob, come here a minute. Say, do you know what is the greatest thing in the world?"

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The third story, entitled "A Matter of Big Business," in the series by Elmer E. Ferris, will follow in a later issue

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A HOME STATION OF THE TRAVELING LIBRARY IN THE OUTSKIRTS OF NEW YORK CITY The little girl with pencil in hand is the custodian, and she distributes the books to her playmates around the table whenever a case of books arrives

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