Once more they were twin
brothers, in costume and feature. Joe contrived, by brushing his
hair down on his forehead, to conceal the discolored bump.
"I think I saw a charming girl," observed Joe.
"Suppose you did--what then?" asked Jim, severely.
"Why--nothing--see here, mayn't I admire a pretty girl if I want?"
"No, you may not. Joe, will nothing ever cure you? I should think
the thought of Miss Wells---"
"Look here, Jim; she don't care--at least, it's very little she
cares. And I'm--I'm not worthy of her."
"Turn around here and face me," said the young minister sharply.
Joe turned and looked in his brother's eyes.
"Have you trifled with her, as you have with so many others? Tell
me. I know you don't lie."
"No."
"Then what do you mean?"
"Nothing much, Jim, except I'm really not worthy of her. I'm no
good, you know, and she ought to get a fellow like--like you."
"Absurd! You ought to be ashamed of yourself."
"Never mind me. See here; don't you admire her?"
"Why--why, yes," stammered Jim, flushing a dark, guilty red at the
direct question. "Who could help admiring her?"
"That's what I thought. And I know she admires you for qualities
which I lack. Nell's like a tender vine just beginning to creep
around and cling to something strong. She cares for me; but her love
is like the vine.
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