at her. Love's young dream, I muses to myself, how swift it fades when a man has the nature and disposition of a lop-eared rabbit!
"The Tuxtons was four in number, not counting the parrot, and all male. There was Pa Tuxton, an old feller with a beard and glasses; a fat uncle; a big brother, who worked in a bank and was dressed like Moses in all his glory; and a little brother with a snub nose, that cheeky you'd have been surprised. And the parrot in its cage and a fat yellow dog. And they're all making themselves pleasant to Jerry, the wealthy future son-in-law, something awful. It's 'How are the fowls, Mr. Moore?' and 'A little bit of this pie, Mr. Moore; Jane made it,' and Jerry sitting there with a feeble grin, saying 'Yes' and 'No' and nothing much more, while Miss Jane's eyes are snapping like Fifth of November fireworks. I could feel Jerry's chances going back a mile a minute. I felt as happy as a little child that evening. I sang going back home.
"Gentleman's pleased, too. 'Jack,' he says to me when we're in bed, 'this is too easy. In my most sanguinary dreams I hardly hoped for this. No girl of spirit's going to love a man who behaves that way to her parents. The way to win the heart of a certain type of girl,' he says, beginning on his theories, 'the type to which Jane Tuxton belongs, is to be rude to her family. I've got Jane Tuxton sized up and labelled. Her kind wants her folks to dislike her young man. She wants to feel that she's the only one in the family that's got the sense to see the hidden good in Willie. She doesn't want to be one of a crowd hollering out what a nice young man he is. It takes some pluck in a man to stand up to a girl's family, and that's what Jane Tuxton is looking for in Jerry. Take it from one who has studied the sect,' says Gentleman, 'from John o' Groat's to Land's End, and back again.'
"Next day Jerry Moore's looking as if he'd only sixpence in the world and had swallowed it. 'What's the matter, Jerry?' says Gentleman. Jerry heaves a sigh. 'Bailey,' he says, 'and you, Mr. Roach, I expect you both seen how it is with me. I love Miss Jane Tuxton, and you seen for yourselves what transpires. She don't value me, not tuppence.' 'Say not so,' says Gentleman, sympathetic. 'You're doing fine. If you knew the sect as I do you wouldn't go by mere superficial silences and chin-tiltings. I can read a girl's heart, Jerry,' he says, patting him on the shoulder, 'and I tell you you're doing fine. All you want now is a little rapid work, and you win easy. To make the thing a cert,' he says, getting up, 'all you have to do is to make a dead set at her folks.' He winks at me. 'Don't just sit there like you did last night. Show 'em you've got something in you. You know what folks are: they think themselves the most important things on the map. Well, go to work. Consult them all you know. Every opportunity you get. There's nothing like consulting a girl's folks to put you in good with her.' And he pats Jerry on the shoulder again and goes indoors to find his pipe.
"Jerry turns to me. 'Do you think that's really so?' he says. I says, 'I do.' 'He knows all about girls, I reckon,' says Jerry. 'You can go by him every time,' I says. 'Well, well,' says Jerry, sort of thoughtful."
The waiter paused. His eye was sad and dreamy. Then he took up the burden of his tale.
"First thing that happens is that Gentleman has a sore tooth on the next Sunday, so don't feel like coming along with us. He sits at home, dosing it with whisky, and Jerry and me goes off alone.
"So Jerry and me pikes off, and once more we prepares to settle down around the board. I hadn't noticed Jerry particular, but just now I catches sight of his face in the light of the lamp. Ever see one of these fighters when he's sitting in his corner before a fight, waiting for the gong to go? Well, Jerry looks like that; and it surprises me.
"I told you about the fat yellow dog that permeated the Tuxtons' house, didn't I? The family thought a lot of that dog, though of all the ugly brutes I ever met he was the worst. Sniffing round and growling all the time. Well, this evening he comes up to Jerry just as he's going to sit down and starts to growl. Old Pa Tuxton looks over his glasses and clicks his tongue. 'Rover! Rover!' he says, kind of mild. 'Naughty Rover; he don't like strangers, I'm afraid.' Jerry looks at Pa Tuxton, and he looks at the dog, and I'm just expecting him to say 'No,' or 'Yes,' same as the other night, when he lets out a nasty laugh—one of them bitter laughs. 'Ho!' he says. 'Ho! don't he? Then perhaps he'd better get further away from them.' And he ups with his boot and—well, that dog hit the far wall.
"Jerry sits down and pulls up his chair. 'I don't approve,' he says, fierce, 'of folks keeping great, fat, ugly, bad-tempered yellow dogs that are a nuisance to all. I don't like it.'
"There was a silence you could have
