an who had resolved never to spoil his jollity by loving one of
womankind--

"Well, how are you getting on, Miss Day, at the present time? Gaily, I
don't doubt for a moment."

"I am not gay, Dick; you know that."

"Gaily doesn't mean decked in gay dresses."

"I didn't suppose gaily was gaily dressed. Mighty me, what a scholar
you've grown!"

"Lots of things have happened to you this spring, I see."

"What have you seen?"

"O, nothing; I've heard, I mean!"

"What have you heard?"

"The name of a pretty man, with brass studs and a copper ring and a tin
watch-chain, a little mixed up with your own. That's all."

"That's a very unkind picture of Mr. Shiner, for that's who you mean! The
studs are gold, as you know, and it's a real silver chain; the ring I
can't conscientiously defend, and he only wore it once."

"He might have worn it a hundred times without showing it half so much."

"Well, he's nothing to me," she serenely observed.

"Not any more than I am?"

"Now, Mr. Dewy," said Fancy severely, "certainly he isn't any more to me
than you are!"

"Not so much?"

She looked aside to consider the precise compass of that question. "That
I can't exactly answer," she replied with soft archness.

As they were going rather slowly, another spring-cart, containing a
farmer, farmer's wife, and farmer's man, jogged past them; and the
farmer's wife and farmer's man eyed the couple very curiously. The
farmer never looked up from the horse's tail.

"Why can't you exactly answer?" said Dick, quickening Smart a little, and
jogging on just behind the farmer and farmer's wife and man.

As no answer came, and as their eyes had nothing else to do, they both
contemplated the picture presented in front, and noticed how the farmer's
wife sat flattened between the two men, who bulged over each end of the
seat to give her room, till they almost sat upon their respective wheels;
and they looked too at the farmer's wife's silk mantle, inflating itself
between her shoulders like a balloon and sinking flat again, at each jog
of the horse. The farmer's wife, feeling their eyes sticking into her
back, looked over her shoulder. Dick dropped ten yards further behind.

"Fancy, why can't you answer?" he repeated.

"Because how much you are to me depends upon how much I am to you," said
she in low tones.

"Everything," said Dick, putting his hand towards hers, and casting
emphatic eyes upon the upper curve of her cheek.