wish that she did not wrap her putties, one from the inside out, and the other from the outside in. But these are details. The splendor of her eyes, the ripe redness of her lips, the softness of her voice, combined, have disposed me to forgive her all.

   “There are times,” sighed Stella that evening, beneath the moon, as we sat against the log rail and listened to the jazz, “out here in these mountains, when I feel as though I were a wild creature, like these others.”

   “My dear,” said I, “I can believe you. Your putties do look wild.

   ”

   “Listen,” said she to me. “You do not get me.”

   The sob of the saxophone came through the window near by, the froufrou of the dancers made a soft susurration faintly audible. I looked into Stella's dark eyes, at her clouded brow.

   “Come again, loved one,” said I to her.

   “What I mean to say,” she resumed, “is that there are times when I feel as though I did not care what I did or what became of me out here.”

   My hand fell upon her slender fingers as they lay twitching in the twilight.

   “Stella,” I exclaimed, “lit-tel one, if that is the way you really feel—or the way really you feel—or really the way you feel—why don't you go down to Jackson's Hole and try a congressional lunch?”

     T

    he

   spruce trees rustled amid their umbrageous boughs. The sob of the saxophone still came through the window. I saw Stella tremble through all her tall young body. A tear fell upon the floor and rebounded against one of the rustic posts.

   “No, No!” said she in sudden contrition, burying her face in both her shapely hands. “Say anything but that! I did not mean me hasty words. My uncle is a congressman, and he has told me all.”

   A silence fell between us. The sob of the saxophone, still doing jazz, came through the window. Once more I recalled the classic story—no doubt you know it well. A musician one evening passed a hat among the dancers, after a number had been concluded.

   “Please, sir,” said he to each, “would you give fifty cents to bury a saxophone

   player?” Then out spoke one jovial guest, to the clink of his accompanying 

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