But things were not the same, and they knew it.

It so happened, as it sometimes will on these occasions, for Fate is a

dramatist who gets his best effects with a small cast, that Peter

Willard and James Todd were the only visible aspirants for the hand of

Miss Forrester. Right at the beginning young Freddie Woosley had seemed

attracted by the girl, and had called once or twice with flowers and

chocolates, but Freddie's affections never centred themselves on one

object for more than a few days, and he had dropped out after the first

week. From that time on it became clear to all of us that, if Grace

Forrester intended to marry anyone in the place, it would be either

James or Peter; and a good deal of interest was taken in the matter by

the local sportsmen. So little was known of the form of the two men,

neither having figured as principal in a love-affair before, that even

money was the best you could get, and the market was sluggish. I think

my own flutter of twelve golf-balls, taken up by Percival Brown, was

the most substantial of any of the wagers. I selected James as the

winner. Why, I can hardly say, unless that he had an aunt who

contributed occasional stories to the 'Woman's Sphere'. These things

sometimes weigh with a girl. On the other hand, George Lucas, who had

half-a-dozen of ginger-ale on Peter, based his calculations on the fact

that James wore knickerbockers on the links, and that no girl could

possibly love a man with calves like that. In short, you see, we really

had nothing to go on.

Nor had James and Peter. The girl seemed to like them both equally.

They never saw her except in each other's company. And it was not until

one day when Grace Forrester was knitting a sweater that there seemed a

chance of getting a clue to her hidden feelings.

When the news began to spread through the place that Grace was knitting

this sweater there was a big sensation. The thing seemed to us

practically to amount to a declaration.

That was the view that James Todd and Peter Willard took of it, and

they used to call on Grace, watch her knitting, and come away with

their heads full of complicated calculations. The whole thing hung on

one point--to wit, what size the sweater was going to be. If it was

large, then it must be for Peter; if small, then James was the lucky

man. Neither dared to make open inquiries, but it began to seem almost

impossible to find out the truth without them. No masculine eye can

reckon up purls and plains and estimate the size of chest which the

garment is destined to cover. Moreover, with amateur knitters there

must always be allowed a margin for involuntary error. There were many

cases during the war where our girls sent sweaters to their sweethearts

which would have induced strangulation in their young brothers. The

amateur sweater of those days was, in fact, practically tantamount to

German propaganda.

Peter and James were accordingly baffled. One evening the sweater would

look small, and James would come away jubilant; the next it would have

swollen over a vast area, and Peter would walk home singing. The

suspense of the two men can readily be imagined. On the one hand, they

wanted to know their fate; on the other, they fully realized that

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