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Leap Year Lady. By VIRGINIA BLAIR Copyrighted, 1908, by Associated Literary l’i es**. “1 have often wondered " h.v you didn't marry,” said Hobble Hayes dif lideutly. The professor leaned ou the porch rail and looked over his rose garden, where the fireflies starred the night with gold. “Because I love a little lady who doesn't love me,” lie said dreamily, “and I'll have no other.” “Oh!” Bobbie gasped as one who has route unexpectedly upon a romance. There was a moment's silence, out of which Bobbie questioned curiously. “How do you know site doesn't love you ?” The professor laughed. “She lets me see that I am her good friend, her com rade. but nothing more.” “Look here, professor. I don't believe you've asked her. not outright, you know.” Bobbie accused. “No, 1 haven't,” the professor admit ted. “I thought so.” Hobble stilted. “I know how modest you are. You'd nev er beligvt* any one cared if tjiey didn't tell you. Now, I had t<> -why, profess or, I just bad to bang around you aft er class and come over here and bore you and beg you to go places with me before you'd believe that I thought you were about the best thing I'd found In college.” The boy's voice was husky with deep feeling, and the professor held out his hand to him. “Dear lad!” he said. “And since I’ve been coming I have found out how lonely you are and— well, I think you ought to marry, pro fessor.” “Alas,” said the older man, “if it were as easy as ? t sounds!” “It is easy,” said Bobbie coeksured ]y. “I've—l've had some experience with girls, professor.” The professor chuckled. “More than J have had in all my forty years, Bob bie.” “And I’ve learned/’ Bobbie asserted solemnly, “that when a man wants to marry a girl he’s got to let her know that he cares awfully." “But she knows that 1 care," the pro fessor said. “Have you told her?” Bobbie de manded. “Not in words," was the response, “but. Hobble, boy. I've sent her a bunch of pink roses every day that they bloom In m.v garden, and I have never looked at another woman.” Bobbie silt up straight. “Oh. look here," he said unexpectedly. “You won’t mind if I guess who it is?” “I don’t believe," the professor hesi tated, "that we ought to bring her name into it." “Yes, we ought." Bobbie insisted, "when it means your happiness and hers, lsu't it Miss Merriman?” “How did you guess?” the professor demanded. “Nobody else grows such old fash ioned hundred leaved roses as you. and when I went up to Miss Merriman's room the other night to borrow a book there was a bunch of them on her table.” “She is very fond of roses," t lie pro fessor murmured. “Of your roses.” Bobbie amended. “I have no reason to believe that she cares more for my roses than for any other," said the professor. "Well, I II bet she does," Bobbie ar gued. “I'll bet she's got a lot of them pressed in the Bible or her favorite book of poetry.” The professor rose. "1 hardly think I like to bring her name into this dis cussion." he said again quietly,. and after that he and Bobbie walked in the garden arm in arm, and they talked of books and of men, but not of Miss Merriman. The next afternoon Bobbie called on the little teacher. “I want to know if you'll chaperon some of the summer schoolgirls to a picnic at High Rock," was his excuse. But later in the evening he mentioned the professor. “I don't think he's look ing well." he said. “1 have noticed it.” said Miss .Merri man anxiously. "I believe tie is work ing too hard." “It isn’t that,” said Bobble. “lie's in love. Miss Merriman. and the girl he cares for is treating him verv cruel ly ” Miss Merriman turned pale. “Oh.” she said faintly, "does—does he care for,some one?” “Y’es,” Bobbie stated, “and he ought to be married. He is lonely, very lonely. I am sure if the woman he lores eohld know she would say ‘yes.’ ” “I am sure she would,” Miss Merri man agreed. - “JL bare wondered,” Bobbie began professor arc such o!d friends." “Hut.” palpitated Miss Merrlman. “I'm not a bit of a detective, Bobbie. I shouldn’t know bow to look for her.” “Well. I'll give you a tip.” said Bob ble. "You find the lady he sends his pink roses to: she's the one." He was looking at her with round, innocent eyes, and he saw the color come back Into her cheeks. He saw the uplift of her graceful head, with its crown of shining hair, lie saw the radiance of her eyes. ‘Are you sure?” she questioned. “Dead sure." said artful Bobble. “Look here.” he went on. “If you find out w ho it is. put her on to the fact that it's leap year.” “Leap year?" gasped Miss Morri man, “Yes,” Bobbie slated. “And it’s her chance. The professor is such a dear old piece of humility that he doesn't think she can love him, and he's afraid to ask her. because he feels that it might make her unhappy to re fuse him. And lie's certain that she wouldn’t accept.” “Oh, wouldn't she?” breathed Miss Merrlman. “And and you tell her,” Bobble con tinued. “that lie’s the lx*st ever.” “Of course he is.” said Miss Merrl mnn. "Haven't I known him all my life?” “Well, I've only known himJtince I came to the summer schools said Bobbie, “but I’ll always lie more of a man for having met him.” They shook hands with enthusiasm, and oil 1 lie stops Bobbie paused to say, “He’s going to High Hook with us.” But Bobbie did not know all the working of the feminine mind, for Miss Merrlman. instead of bringing things to a crisis at the picnic, kept away from the professor till day. giving him only a vague smile now and then, in stead of her usual frank companion ship, ami as a consequence the profess or went home In a state of desperate forlornness, and even the wise Bobble was alarmed and wished he had not interfered. The next evening, however, just at the edge of twilight, as the professor wended his solitary way through the paths of his rose garden, the gate open ed and a slender figure i:i white came through. “I have come to see your roses.” said the leap year lady, otherwise called Miss Merrlman. "Are you real,” the professor de manded, “or just a trieky spirit, who will vanish in a breath?” “1 atn not a spirit,” said the leap year lady, “hut I've come to ask you a ques tion.” The professor's face fell. “I knew it wasn't just the roses that brought you." he said. “I suppose it's some tan gle in your Greek?” “No,” said Miss Merriman, "it isn’t a tangle in Greek. It's a worse tangle. And it has something to do with roses.” “Botany?” asked the unconscious professor. “Oil, no!” Miss Merriman’s voice ex pressed a certain scorn of his dense ness. “Well, you said it bad something to do with roses,” the professor told her helplessly. “Do the roses you send me have any thing to do with botany?" Miss Merri man demanded. “No; of course not," the professor stammered: “of course not. They have to do with"— “What?" Miss Merriman’s tone was eager. Her upturned face pleaded. Her eyes were like stars. A faint glow from the little moon turned her hair to gold, and as the professor looked down at her a great light shone in upon his soul. “Why—they have to do with—love." he said. “Of course.” was the tremulous re sponse. "Oh. why didn’t yon say It be fore?" "I was afraid.” he whispered and took her hands in his. "You see I had to come—to your rose garden”— she explained in the shelter of his arms. “To stay always?” he begged, and as she murmured “always” wise Bobbie, coming up the path, saw the tableau in the moonlight and. chucking as he went, beat a hasty retreat. The Great Unknown. It was many years before the “Great Unknown” was identified. At the publication of tbe "Lay of tbe Hast Minstrel.” “Marniion.” "Lady of the Lake” and finally of a novel called “Waverley,” popular curiosity was ex cited, and the whole of England rang with the fame of the “Great Un known,” as Scott was called. The secret was well kept. 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