“‘Good old hoss！’ says Paisley， shaking my hand. ‘And I’lldo the same，’ says he. ‘We’ll court the lady synonymously，and without any of the prudery and bloodshed usual tosuch occasions. And we’ll be friends still， win or lose.’
“At one side of Mrs. Jessup’s eating-house was a benchunder some trees where she used to sit in the breeze afterthe south-bound had been fed and gone. And there meand Paisley used to congregate after supper and makepartial payments on our respects to the lady of our choice.
And we was so honorable and circuitous in our calls thatif one of us got there first we waited for the other beforebeginning any gallivantery.
“The first evening that Mrs. Jessup knew about ourarrangement I got to the bench before Paisley did. Supperwas just over， and Mrs. Jessup was out there with a freshpink dress on， and almost cool enough to handle.
“I sat down by her and made a few specifications aboutthe moral surface of nature as set forth by the landscapeand the contiguous perspective. That evening was surely acase in point. The moon was attending to business in thesection of sky where it belonged， and the trees was makingshadows on the ground according to science and nature，and there was a kind of conspicuous hullabaloo going onin the bushes between the bullbats and the orioles and thejack-rabbits and other feathered insects of the forest. Andthe wind out of the mountains was singing like a Jew’sharpin the pile of old tomato-cans by the railroad track.
“I felt a kind of sensation in my left side—somethinglike dough rising in a crock by the fire. Mrs. Jessup hadmoved up closer.
“‘Oh， Mr. Hicks，’ says she， ‘when one is alone in theworld， don’t they feel it more aggravated on a beautifulnight like this？’
“I rose up off the bench at once.
“‘Excuse me， ma’am，’ says I， ‘but I’ll have to wait tillPaisley comes before I can give a audible hearing toleading questions like that.’
“And then I explained to her how we was friendscinctured by years of embarrassment and travel andcomplicity， and how we had agreed to take no advantageof each other in any of the more mushy walks of life， suchas might be fomented by sentiment and proximity. Mrs.
Jessup appears to think serious about the matter for aminute， and then she breaks into a species of laughter thatmakes the wildwood resound.
“In a few minutes Paisley drops around， with oil ofbergamot on his hair， and sits on the other side of Mrs.
Jessup， and inaugurates a sad tale of adventure in whichhim and Pieface Lumley has a skinning-match of deadcows in ’95 for a silver-mounted saddle in the Santa Ritavalley during the nine months’ drought.
“Now， from the start of that courtship I had Paisley Fishhobbled and tied to a post. Each one of us had a differentsystem of reaching out for the easy places in the femaleheart. Paisley’s scheme was to petrify ’em with wonderfulrelations of events that he had either come acrosspersonally or in large print. I think he must have got hisidea of subjugation from one of Shakespeare’s shows I seeonce called ‘Othello.’ There is a coloured man in it whoacquires a duke’s daughter by disbursing to her a mixtureof the talk turned out by Rider Haggard， Lew Dockstader，and Dr. Parkhurst. But that style of courting don’t workwell off the stage.
“Now， I give you my own recipe for inveigling a womaninto that state of affairs when she can be referred to as ‘neeJones.’ Learn how to pick up her hand and hold it， andshe’s yours. It ain’t so easy. Some men grab at it so muchlike they was going to set a dislocation of the shoulder thatyou can smell the arnica and hear ’em tearing off bandages.
Some take it up like a hot horseshoe， and hold it off at arm’slength like a druggist pouring tincture of asafoetida in abottle. And most of ’em catch hold of it and drag it rightout before the lady’s eyes like a boy finding a baseball in thegrass， without giving her a chance to forget that the hand isgrowing on the end of her arm. Them ways are all wrong.
“I’ll tell you the right way. Did you ever see a man sneakout in the back yard and pick up a rock to throw at atomcat that was sitting on a fence looking at him？ Hepretends he hasn’t got a thing in his hand， and that thecat don’t see him， and that he don’t see the cat. That’s theidea. Never drag her hand out where she’ll have to takenotice of it. Don’t let her know that you think she knowsyou have the least idea she is aware you are holding herhand. That was my rule of tactics； and as far as Paisley’sserenade about hostilities and misadventure went， hemight as well have been reading to her a time-table of theSunday trains that stop at Ocean Grove， New Jersey.
