Jealousy is about as reasonable as lightning; it is fully as deadly, and often much more unexpected. And because Biscuit Westfall's mother's brother-in-law (who was a farmer with a fine woodlot) when bringing in the annual Christmas tree for Biscuit, had also brought one for Nancy Guilford's Christmas party, he had aroused Sube's groundless jealousy of Biscuit to the striking point.

Biscuit cared nothing for Nancy; he had a lady love of his own. Of course he was polite to Nancy, but he was polite to every lady. And Nancy cared nothing for Biscuit. She had found him useful in her scheme of life, and had accordingly made use of him. But she loved him not. However, as far as the Christmas tree was concerned she was innocent of using him even as an exciter. He had offered the tree, and she had taken it.

Somewhere Sube had learned the history of the tree, and when he saw it he shook his head dubiously. "Pretty punk, isn't it?" he asked. "Is that the best you could get?"

"Uh huh, the very best," Nancy emphatically assured him.

"Why didn't you let me get you a tree?" he demanded. "I'd 'ave got you one a hundred times better'n that."

"Oo—oo! Could you, honest?"

"Could I!"

"Will you do it?"

"Will I? Half a dozen if you want 'em."

Nancy assured him that one was all she could possibly use, and thereupon he obtained his ax and set out to conquer the forest. But he soon found that Biscuit's uncle Peter had spoken the truth when he said that good Christmas trees were scarce. They were; decidedly scarce. The few that had come through the dry fall without unwithered limbs had already been hewn by the early tree-hunters. And Sube was hard to please.

He had in his mind the picture of an ideal Christmas tree, and as he rejected one prospect after another, the picture became more vivid.

"You're a rusty runt," he informed an anÆmic-looking pine that appeared in his path. "And you're too much like a beanpole," he told another. "Yes, and you're lop-sided," he explained to a third; "you look like you'd had an arm cut off."

The afternoon waned. Dusk came on. To be in the woods after dark would be quite useless, so he might as well be starting for home. And still the picture of the perfect tree possessed his mind. If he could only think where it was.

Then suddenly it came to him. Why, of course! That was just where he had seen it! It wasn't exactly growing wild, but the people who inhabited the place wouldn't care. He felt quite sure about that. And anyway, it would be dark by the time he reached there.

An hour later when Nancy Guilford opened the door in response to his ring (for which she had been listening for some time) a perfect specimen of cypress greeted her delighted gaze. It was bright green, symmetrical and bushy-limbed. It was as perfect as the picture on a Christmas card. Nancy's exclamations and gurglings of delight brought her mother to the door, with the result that Sube was invited over that evening to help trim the tree.

When he arrived some two hours later he found the gift tree mounted in a disguised soap box, and standing at one end of the parlor from which the furniture had been removed to facilitate the laying of the crash, with the entire household gathered round about offering on-lookers' advice as to the most effective way of decorating it.

This was not exactly as he had anticipated. He had planned to arrange those details according to his own ideas and Nancy's. But somehow he managed to live through it. If, however, he had known that the Guilfords were entertaining company he would not have come. He hated to meet strangers, especially tall women dressed all in black who think they have got to talk to a fellow all the time.

When Sube was presented to Mrs. Hotchkiss-Harger he fastened his gaze on a little red spot on the crash and moved his lips deferentially, although no sound came. Observing his embarrassment, Mrs. Hotchkiss-Harger attempted to put him at his ease by the questionable method of interrogation.

"So this is the young man," she remarked in her deep voice, "to whom we are indebted for this beautiful tree?"

Sube nodded microscopically.

"It's a cypress, isn't it?" she persisted.

Again Sube's head moved slightly, although it would have taken a mind reader to translate the movement.

"Why, I had no idea that cypresses were indigenous to this part of the country. Where did you get that tree, young man?"

Sube started visibly. This was a question he was hardly prepared to answer. "Th—that tree, th—there?" he stammered in confusion. "That tree?—Why—"

Once more the success of well-handled dilatory tactics was evident; for Mrs. Hotchkiss-Harger suddenly burst into tears.

"Oh, it all comes back so clearly," she sobbed. "I went to the nursery myself—broken and crushed as I was—and selected the four dainty cypresses that were planted at the four corners of the lot where my poor dear Clarence was laid to rest. They must be just about the size of this one! I must go and see them to-morrow. Why, I haven't seen those darling little trees since the day they were set out!—Oh, dear—!"

"There, there, sister," comforted Mrs. Guilford. "How could you have seen them when you have been abroad all the time? They've had the best of care, and they were looking be-autiful the last time I saw them—"

"Ah, yes, I stayed away that I might learn to forget!" moaned Mrs. Hotchkiss-Harger between huge convulsive sobs. "But how the old grief closes in on me the moment I return. Oh, I must go to the cemetery to-morrow!"

"Oh, I don't believe I'd go on the day before Christmas," Mrs. Guilford advised gently.

"I must!—I must!—I can't wait a moment longer!"

Then with a supreme effort Mrs. Hotchkiss-Harger mastered her grief, and removing her black-bordered handkerchief from her reddened eyes, turned to Sube who had been watching her with keen interest, and said:

"You haven't yet told me where you got that tree, young man."

Sube had to swallow once or twice before he managed to mumble, "Don't know exackly."

"Don't know?" she demanded. "How can it be possible that you don't know? You cut this tree yourself, did you not?"

"No, ma'am. I—"

"You didn't! Well, who did, then?"

"Ma'am? Oh,—who cut this tree?—Why,—why, my father got it for me!" he finally stammered out. "I don't know jus' where he did get it. Out in the woods somewheres, I should—"

"Ah! Then he cut it himself, did he?"

"Yes, ma'am. He cut it all right! He likes to cut Chris'mus trees. He says most people don't know a good Chris'mus tree when they see one."

"One could scarce say that about him."

This delicate compliment brought forth no response from Sube except a dark scowl, but it terminated Mrs. Hotchkiss-Harger's part of the conversation, and she yielded to her sister's earnest solicitation that she lie down for a while.

Left alone with Nancy for a moment Sube began to look around for his cap. "I gotta be goin' home," he whispered huskily.

"Going home!" cried Nancy. "Why, you just got here! And besides, we haven't put a thing on the tree yet!"

"I know it," muttered Sube, "but my mother tole me I could only stay a couple of minutes—"

"Why, it isn't late at all! What time do you have to go?"

"What time is it now?"

Nancy stepped to the door and looked at the big clock in the hall. "Why, it's only twenty-five minutes after seven!" she announced joyfully.

"I gotta go at ha'-past," said Sube, as he struggled to extricate his cap from his coat-pocket where he had finally located it.

"That's mean!" cried Nancy petulantly. "It's just as mean as it can be! Why didn't you come earlier?"

"Well, I did come right after supper—"

"Then what you got to go so soon for?"

"Why—why, my mother's got to go to see a sick lady."

"A sick lady? Who's sick that your mother's got to go and see, I'd like to know?"

"I guess you don't know everybody that's sick!"

"I guess I know everybody that's sick that your mother's got to go and see! Now, who is it?"

"It's Auntie Emma! Yah, you didn't know she was sick at all! Did you?"

"Well, it must have been awful sudden, because I saw her go by just yesterday."

"Sudden! I guess it was sudden. She was sittin' at the supper table jus' well as you are, and Bingo! she fell right out of her chair onto the floor sick abed!"

Nancy was deeply moved. "Oh, isn't that awful! What made it?"

"Huh?—What made it?—Why, I can't think what they call it. It's an awful funny name."

"Was it heart disease?" ventured Nancy.

"Aw, it was a million times worse'n that!"

Nancy gasped. "She isn't going to die, is she?"

"Well, I dunno," he replied dubiously. "She was still alive when I come away, but—"

"I'm sorry," murmured Nancy. "Awful sorry. I hope—"

"Well, I gotto be goin'. They might need me any minute!"

"I'm so sorry about it. Do you s'pose you'll be able to—to come to my party?"

This was a new phase of the matter that Sube had not considered. "Well, you can't tell," he replied. "It's a funny disease. Doc Richards says she may be dead one minute, or may be well the next."

"Oh, I do hope she'll be well," said Nancy earnestly; and as Sube passed out of the door she called after him, "I'm going right in and tell mamma about it."

Sube stopped in his tracks. But the heavy front door had slammed behind him. Oh, well, he'd tell them to-morrow that she was sick one minute, and well the next. That would be easy to fix up. But he was not going to stay round there all the evening and have that big tall woman in black keep asking him questions. Probably she'd forget all about the Christmas tree by to-morrow anyway. And besides, nobody would ever suspect his father of hooking a Christmas tree from a cemetery lot. Evergreen trees were so much alike that nobody could tell one from another, for that matter. And dismissing these trivial matters from his mind he paid an unexpected call on his friend Gizzard. He reached home shortly after nine o'clock.

"You oughta see that Chris'mus tree!" he cried as he entered the house. "It's a pippin! We got it all covered with glass balls and nickel-plated shavings and red and green candles, about a million of 'em!"

"When did you do all this?" asked his mother.

"Jus' got through!"

"You did?" she asked incredulously. "Why, I understood Mrs. Guilford to say that you had already left there when she telephoned me over an hour ago."

"Well,—you see—you see, I did leave there, but I jus' went outdoors, and then came right back again."

"But what did you mean by telling her that Auntie Emma was desperately ill and that you had to come home—"

"Did she 'phone you that?" cried Sube eagerly. "Did she honest?"

"Of course she did; and I want to know—"

"Oh, I guess I didn't fool her all right!" he laughed boisterously. "Oh, no! Guess not!"

"But I want to know what you meant—"

"Why, she said she bet I couldn't fool her, so in a little while, I tole her Auntie Emma was sick and I had to go home, and jus' to fool her I went outdoors and stayed a while; but I didn't know I fooled her so much that she 'phoned—"

"Then what did Nancy mean when she called up and asked for you about half an hour later?"

"Oh, ho!" cried Sube gleefully. "Then I fooled her, too! Did she call me up, honest? You see I was outdoors again and I didn't know it!"

"You must not fool so much, my boy. You'll get the reputation of being very untruthful—"

"Get it!" interjected Mr. Cane. "Get it! If he could get any more of a repu—"

"Samuel!" cried Mrs. Cane in a voice she seldom found it necessary to use. And as her husband subsided she turned again to Sube. "Nancy wanted you to call her up as soon as you came in," she said.

"Oh, that's all right," Sube explained. "She's seen me since then."

"They why do you suppose she called again about five minutes before you came?" asked his mother.

"Prob'ly I was on the way home," he suggested. "I stopped to talk to some kids. I'll call her up anyway."

Sube went to the telephone, and removing the receiver with one hand he carefully pressed down the hook with the other to avoid arousing the operator, and called loudly for Guilfords' number. Then he held an illuminating though strictly imaginary conversation with Nancy, in the course of which he twitted her playfully about being so easily fooled.

"Put an'thing more on the tree?" he asked finally. "That's right! I guess we put on everything there was. Well, g'by! See you to-morrow!" And he hung up the receiver.

He had just resumed his chair after this master-stroke when the telephone rang. This time it was the real Nancy.