Under the Big Dipper

she said decidedly. “John is in love. If he isn’t, he ought to be. What we must do is to get him married.”

Mrs. Morton opened her eyes wide at her daughter’s plain-spoken words. The precocity of the chicken was amusing and yet, it seemed to her, on second thought, that it hit the bull’s eye. The suggestion appealed to her strongly, and the woman in the mother could not resist the prospect of the peculiar pleasure of match-making. Besides, it was time John married. He was the head of the house.

Thus was formed the conspiracy in which two loving women sought to undo all that the object of their affection had been living for. Against such a combination, the strongest man must of necessity be helpless.

The coming of the spring, therefore, found the Mortons opening up their country residence on the Hudson. Officially John was the master, but actually he

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