note of his
convincing voice Doubt picked up her trailing skirts and fled for ever.)

I. "Yes, if you must know it, I am glad to see you; so glad, indeed,
that nothing in the world seems to matter so long as you are here."

He (striding a little nearer, and looking about involuntarily for a
ladder). "Penelope, do you know the penalty of saying such sweet things
to me?"

I. "Perhaps it is because I know the penalty that I'm committing the
offence. Besides, I feel safe in saying anything in this second-story
window."

He. "Don't pride yourself on your safety unless you wish to see me
transformed into a nineteenth-century Romeo, to the detriment of Mrs.
Bobby's creepers. I can look at you for ever, dear, in your pink gown
and your purple frame, unless I can do better. Won't you come down?"

I. "I like it very much up here."

He. "You would like it very much down here, after a little. So you
didn't 'paint me out,' after all?"

I. "No; on the contrary, I painted you in, to every twig and flower,
every hill and meadow, every sunrise and every sunset."

He. "You MUST come down! The distance between Belvern and Aix when I
was not sure that you loved me was nothing compared to having you in a
second story when I know that you do. Come down, Pen! Pretty Pen!"

I. "Suppose we compromise. My sitting-room is just below; will you walk
in and look at my sketches until I come? You needn't ring; the bell is
overgrown with honeysuckle and there is no one to answer it; it might
almost be an American hotel, but it is Arcadia!"

He. "It is Paradise; and alas! here comes the serpent!"

I. "It isn't a serpent; it is the kindest landlady in England.--Mrs.
Bobby, this gentleman is a dear friend of mine from America. Mr.
Beresford, this is Mrs. Bobby, the most comfortable hostess in the
world, and the owner of the cottage, the canaries, the tea-tables, and
the baby.--The reason Mr. Beresford was so thirsty, Mrs. Bobby, was that
he has walked here from Great Belvern, so we must give him some supper
before he returns."

Mrs. B. "Certainly, miss, he shall have the best in the 'ouse, you can
depend upon that."

He. "Don't let me interfere with your usual arrangements. I am not
hungry--for food; I shall do very well until I get back to the hotel."

I. "Indeed you will not, sir! Billy shall pull some tomatoes and
lettuce, Tommy shall milk the cow, and Mrs. Bobby shall make you
a savory omelet that Delmonico might envy. Hark! Is that o