most treacherous memory. You could not depend on him to
forget anything!

When Evans was friendly with him, Mr. Ducker's hopes ran
high, but when he caught Evans looking at him with that
boyish smile of his twinkling in his eyes, the vision of
chaperoning an Elk party to St. Paul became very shadowy
indeed.

Mr. Ducker tried diplomacy. He withdrew his insurance
advertisement from McSorley's paper, and doubled his
space in Evans's, paying in advance. He watched the trains
for visitors and reported them to Evans. He wrote breezy
little local briefs in his own light cow-like way for
Evans's paper.

But Mr. Ducker's journalistic fervour received a serious
set back one day. He rushed into the Mercury office just
as the paper went to press with the news that old Mrs.
Williamson had at last winged her somewhat delayed flight.
Evans thanked him with some cordiality for letting him
know in time to make a note of it, and asked him to go
around to Mrs. Williamson's home and find out a few facts
for the obituary.

Mr. Ducker did so with great cheerfulness, rather out of
keeping with the nature of his visit. He felt that his
way was growing brighter. When he reached the old lady's
home he was received with all courtesy by her slow-spoken
son. Mr. Ducker bristled with importance as he made known