George looked at the card. "Hello!" he said, "why, you're eighty-nine. It's a tie!"

There was a hubbub. "Play it over!" "Toss up a cent!" and other suggestions were heard. At the end she came forward, and they faced each other.

"It's your game," he said, quietly.

"Not at all," she demurred. "Why should it be?"

"Play out one hole if you want to," said George, "with a handicap, of course. That'll settle it."

Tinkerton only smiled.

"But why?" she asked.

"It's your game," he repeated.

He looked her in the eye. "My score doesn't count," he said. "It's one of the rules that a player in a match game shall have his score kept by some one else."

"And you?" she queried.

"I was alone-as you know," he replied.

"I don't care," she exclaimed, her old impulsiveness rising up. "I shan't accept the prize-I don't think it's fair. Just be

cause

The captain of the Greens Committee came up. "If you will allow me," he said, "I would suggest that you both play over one hole, and decide the matter in that way. It is a rule that the scores in a match game should be kept by some one else beside the player, but I think in this case we all know that Tinkerton is perfectly square. What do you say, Miss Gillson?"

She smiled back. "I am willing," she said, "if it is agreeable to Mr. Tinkerton."

It was a supreme moment. Tinkerton felt that he had the situation well in hand. He looked at his watch.

"Pardon me," he said, somewhat hurriedly, "but I must go. My young brother fell off a wheel this morning and broke his arm, and I promised to be back in two hours. I shouldn't have come at all if I had not had an engagement.”

He turned to her.

"But though I must run along," he said, "if agreeable to you, I will select a substitute to decide the matter. Howard, will you take my place, and decide this important matter?"

"Why, certainly, old man," said Howard.

Tinkerton bowed.

"Good afternoon," he said.

She said nothing. There was nothing to say.

Tinkerton's younger brother sat up in bed, with three feet of shingle on one arm, and rings under his eyes. Tinkerton had been reading to him for half an hour. "What horrible stuff they do put out nowadays," he said, throwing the book down. "Say, Jimmy, you'll be more careful next time, I guess, when you try to play horse with a trolley."

"You bet I will," said Jimmy, feebly.

There was a knock.

"Come in," said Tinkerton.

She came in.

"They told me," she said, "to come right up-that you were reading to Jimmy. You poor boy. I'm so sorry.'

She went over and put an arm around him. He was only fourteen.

Tinkerton offered her a chair. She turned and faced him.
"Well," he said, slowly, "who won?"

There was a ring in his voice. It meant more than the game.
She put her hand forward instinctively to meet his.
"You did," she said.

A woman's word is never done.

BRAINS.

BRAINS, hitherto deemed desirable, are gradually coming into disrepute. The predominance of the Smart Set in our national life renders them almost wholly obsolete. If a minority. of us can get along without stomachs, according to medical authorities, brains would seem to be

de trop, in the widest application of that generality.

Brains are said to secrete thought, in itself a drawback to modern life. The brain makes for worry, which undermines our strength against disease and dissipation. A man who worries can smoke only fifteen cigarettes a day; who does not worry, forty. Why, therefore, be so obstinate in advocacy of the brain?

Educational systems, so long cast in the shade by lack of funds, are now conducted entirely without brains, and are making more money than

ever.

We must expect that the brain will flicker on for some time to come before it dies out entirely. We cannot

even hope for the millennium all at once. At present the brain is fostered almost entirely by young girls and old maids, who employ it in lieu of brute force. Brute force has now made the brain look like thirty cents, and regulates the price of meat, eggs, ice, hair tonics and votes.

Nothing succeeds like a profitable lack of brains and enough brute force to compel respect. Though we may not hope to

eliminate the brain entirely, the future looks rosy. As long as brains stand directly in the way of making money we need have no fear for the ultimate result.

In the meantime let us not falter in the grand work, but go on building libraries, endowing colleges and writing popular novels. Thus, by reducing our brain activities to a minimum, we shall eventually all succeed in becoming as brainless as are at present the chosen few.

DIRECTIONS.

THE stranger who had just come to town was wandering around somewhat hopelessly when he met one of the oldest

inhabitants.

"Would you be kind enough to tell me where Easy Street is?" he said.

"Certainly, sir," said the old inhabitant. "This is Milk Lane. You go along here for a couple of blocks until you come to Kindergarten Place. Then you turn sharply and walk through College Row, or you can go by it if you haven't time. You will then come to Know It All Park, but don't loiter there. Walk directly through the Park until you come to Experiment Boulevard, being careful to avoid Bottle Alley, Siren Centre or Gambler's Square. Turn from thence to your right-always keep to your right—until you strike Hardship Street. You will know it because it begins with low, scraggly buildings, improving slightly as you go along. Keep straight on."

"And from there how far is it to Easy Street?" asked the stranger, eagerly.

"Well," said the old inhabitant, looking him over carefully, "you seem to be about as good as the average stranger who has courage enough to venture into these parts. You ought to get there in from forty to fifty years."

MODERN LOVE.

HE bent over her in all the fullness and richness of his newly developed passion. They had met but a short time before,

and had been mutually attracted by each other.

"I love you," he said, "in the real, true, old-fashioned, simple way. I ask for nothing but to look into your eyes and feel that you are true to me."

"But do you feel," she replied, "that you will be able to love me as a woman ought to be loved, even in these modern days?" He smiled a reassuring smile.

"Yes, darling," he replied, "hearts are ever the same. I shall continue, of course, to be an active member of my clubs, as I find that the associations there are necessary to keep in touch with my fellow men. My business will occupy me during the day and sometimes into the night. Occasionally I shall have to get away for a few weeks' vacation, and it will be absolutely necessary, in order to keep myself in condition, to play golf, ride horseback, and a few other games of which I am a devotee. But, my own heart's darling, the time that is left is all yours-every minute of it. And now let me ask, how is it with you? Do you think you will be able to love me in the right way?"

"Assuredly," she replied, the light of a supreme devotion in her eyes. "I, too, have my clubs which it would not do for me to neglect, as their awakening influences keep me in trim to be a companion to you. Then I shall have to keep up my wardrobe, which requires constant attention. I am also writing a historical novel, which I hope will be dramatized, and I hope to make my social life a grand success, besides giving up as much time as possible to getting rid of our church debt. But aside from these things, dearest, I am utterly and completely yours."

And they embraced in the old-fashioned way.