g that caught their fancy, and
chatting together as if they had known each other all their lives. At
the corner of Forty-fourth Street, Mr. Arnold suddenly dove into a huge
florist's shop on the corner, and in a moment returned bearing a bunch
of Parma violets, tied with a silken cord and tassel.

"I say, will you wear these?" he asked, bluntly. "You know, I always
wanted to give a bouquet to a young lady, but I never could find the
young lady to whom I wanted to give them. The flowers were plentiful,
but I began to think that the lady didn't exist." Nancy colored at the
compliment with which he proffered her the flowers, and dimpled as only
a rosy girl can dimple. His attentions were very flattering, and his
half-shy, boyish manner made them doubly so.

"Now do tell me what book you have there?" he asked, as they turned
east on Forty-second Street. "Is it something very learned or very
frivolous?"

With a little laugh, Nancy handed him the package.

"You can open it, if you promise to tie it up again," she said,
watching his face out of the corners of her eyes, as he untied the
string. He glanced from the book to her face, trying to look
disapproving, though he could not quite conceal his look of naive
pleasure.

"_Very_ frivolous. I see that I shall have to direct your book-buying
as well as your business. Why didn't you let me get it for you if you
wanted it?"

"Because I wanted to get it for myself--you probably wouldn't have let
me get it."

"Well, if I had given it to you, I could have written something in it,
and that's something I always wanted to do, you know, something about
'the compliments of the author' in a flowing script."

"Well, why don't you write something in it anyway?"

"May I?"

"Only not 'the compliments of the author.'"

He took her to the train, and then standing beside her seat, took out
his fountain pen, and scribbled on the fly-leaf of the little volume.

"There," he said, handing it back to her. "Now, good-bye. I am going
to see you again in the holidays, am I not? I have enjoyed two or
three hours to-day more than I have enjoyed anything in years." He
took her hand and shook it warmly, and then as the train gave a warning
jerk, he hurried off.

With the great fragrant bunch of violets at her waist, with money in
her pocket to set her mind at rest, and with the memory of a singularly
pleasant episode, Nancy saw the wintry landscape, over which a fresh
snow was