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Show rfPB3:MEwiD Rfi, if MELISSA SPURNS A ROYAL FOUR-FLUSH. FOUR-FLUSH. Mrs. Merriwid raised her arms and with a graceful motion pushed her colled tresses upward, securing the mass with a few supplementary hairpins. hair-pins. "All it needs now Is a coronet or a tiara or whatever It is a princess usually wears week-days," she re marked to her maternal maiden Aun. Jane. "Still, I don't know but It does very well as It is. What's your unbiased un-biased opinion, Auntie?" "I thiulc so," agreed Aunt Jane. "Very well, then," said Mrs. Merrlwid, Merrl-wid, in a tone of decision. "We'll let It go at that and I won't be a princess after all." "Has anybody asked you to be?" queried Aunt Jane. "Mr. Burnitt," replied her niece. "He has stooped from his high estate so far as to do me that honor. You knew that he was a prince, didn't you, dearie?" "I must confess that I was wholly unaware of the circumstance," Aunt Jane replied. "Dear me, yes," said Mrs. Merrlwid. Merrl-wid. "One of the blood royal. Oh, certainly. And when you're of the blood royal, auntie, nothing is too rich for it not even widowl ladies. Anyway, he's a prince. I know that, for one of his friends told me so plainly and unequivocally. 'When you're out with Jim Burnitt, your money's no good,' said the friend. 'As long as he's got a dollar, he'll spend lng whon It's himself and to clothe the Well, he likes to clothe himself, too, and he isn't going to do it In any skimping, stingy way, either. And if his inner man cries for broiled lobsters and champagne, truffles and cavalre and Chartreuse and things, he's not going to turn a deaf ear to the cry. He's too tender-hearted." "You'll admit he's willing to share these good things, won't you?" asked Aunt Jane. "Why, bless his big princely heart! of course he is," said Mrs. Merrlwid. "Just as long as there's plenty without with-out denying himself. He's a good fellow fel-low and he won't worry about the water until the well runs dry. It you want a little temporary accommodation, accom-modation, he's the man to go to. 'Why, certainly, old chap.' He knows that you might think that he wasn't a prince if he refused you. It's a great reputation to have, dearie." "I must say that I don't think you're very charitable, Melissa," said Aunt Jane. 'I'm afraid I'm not," assented Mrs. Merriwid. "The trouble with me is that I know the breed. Mr. Burnitt isn't the first I've met up with, if you'll pardon the expression. I had quite an assortment of princes and royal four-flushers fluttering around my desk when I pounded my typewriter type-writer in maiden meditation fancy free. One or two of them I grieve to say were married men, although of course I wasn't supposed to be wise to that." "Said He Preferred to Do His Giving While He Was Alive." it as If there were a million more behind be-hind it. He's no piker, Jim isn't.' " "What is a piker?" inquired Aunt Jane. "A piker is a penurious person, prone to parsimonious practices In the pursuit of profit or pleasure," replied re-plied Mrs. Merriwid. "Mr. Burnitt Isn't that. I've been out with hlru once or twice and my money was no good. One of his pet phrases is, 'Keep the change.' That makes him a prince. Another observation that he qvite frequently makes is, 'This one is on me.' Only a thoroughly blue-blooded Individual says that frequently and as If he really meant it It takes one born in the purple to give a bellboy a dollar for a pitcher of ice water. You noticed the roses that came yesterday?" yes-terday?" "I spoke of them, if you remember," said Aunt Jane. "I told you that they were perfectly lovely, but it seemed to me extravagant, especially after the violets the day before." "I told him so," Mrs. Merriwid informed in-formed her. "He laughed scornfully, almost pityingly, and wanted to know what money was for if it wasn't to get the things a fellow wanted.' I suggested sug-gested that a fellow might, in course of time, arrive at the end of a fellow's fel-low's string and get brought up with a disconcerting jerk. He argued that tomorrow he might be himself with yesterday's seven thousand years, and that a fellow couldn't take it with him, which is very true. I told him that I proposed to hang onto mine, even if I had to leave a little of it to charitable institutions after the funeral expenses were paid. 1 He said "My dear, what language you are using!" protested Aunt Jane. "Pray pardon me," begged Mrs. Merriwid. "As I was about to say when I was so rudely interrupted, there was one fine, hearty, open-handed open-handed gentleman, in purple and fine fine linen, who came across quite frequently fre-quently with the long-stemmed kind and such, not to mention lunch invitations, invi-tations, which I beg you to believe, dear aunt, I never accepted. He used to say that there was nothing small about him but his feet, and he found oodles of people who believed him. Well, one day I saw him hand a fifty-cent fifty-cent piece to a poor woman who looked look-ed as if she needed it. It was on the street and I happened to be right behind be-hind them, but he didn't know it-A it-A couple of hours later he blew into the office and carelessly dropped a two-pound box of Donilicci's very best on my little table, and I carelessly dropped it into the waste basket." "My gracious!" exclaimed Aunt Jane. "Why did you do that?" "Because I thought he ought to have given the money it took to buy it to his wife so that she could get her a new hat. The one she was wearing looked as if she had bought it for a dollar at a rummage sale. I told him so right out loud and he was quite offended." "I don't understand," said Aunt Jane. "His wife " "Yes, she was the poor woman he gave the fifty cents to," replied Mrs. Merriwid. "He didn't give it to her very willingly either. Oh, I know the breed all right. If they happen to want a blooded bull terrier pud and their wives heppen to want new shoes, and there isn't enough for both wita a respectable margin for contingent contin-gent expenses, I don't have to give more than one guess." "Then you're not going to encourage encour-age Mr. Burnitt to continue his attentions?" atten-tions?" asked Aunt Jane. "I asked him to go to San Francisco Fran-cisco and repeat his proposal over long-distance telephone," replied Mrs. Merriwid. "I thought the expense of the proceeding would attract him." "Why San Francisco?" demanded Aunt Jane. "Oh, well," replied Mrs. Merriwid, "perhaps it wasn't San Francisco that I told him." (Copyright, 1913, by W. G. Chapman.) that he preferred to do his giving while he was alive." "Well, it's nice to have a liberal disposition," remarked Aunt Jane. "It's perfectly lovely," agreed Mrs. Merriwid. "When I think of all the bellboys and waiters and porters and taxi drivers and indigent tanks who have been relieved by Mr. Burnitt's noble benefactions, the tears almost come into my eyes, and when I see the grateful creatures jumping to anticipate an-ticipate his little wants and winking it one another behind his back, I realize real-ize what a fine thing it is to be open-landed open-landed and munificent and loved. He a certainly a charitable man." "To waiters?" asked Aunt Jane. "Of course, but principally to him-lelf," him-lelf," replied Mrs. Merriwid. He ikes to feed the hungry when it's imself and give drink to the thirstr |