she said she thought it was to a
gentleman in the hair-cutting persuasion who lived near; and then, of
course, I guessed who bought it."

"Tillie," gasped Leander, "I--I didn't _mean_ you to guess; the purpose
for which I require that cloak is my secret."

"Oh, you silly man, when I've guessed it! And I take it just as kind of
you as if it was to be all a surprise. I was wishing as I came along I
could afford to buy it at once, it struck so cold coming out of our
place; and you had actually bought it for me all the time! Thank you
ever so much, Leander dear!"

He had only to accept the position; and he did. "I'm glad you're
pleased," he said; "I intended it as a surprise."

"And I am surprised," said Matilda; "because, do you know, last night,
when I went home, I was feeling very cross with you. I kept thinking
that perhaps you didn't care for me any more, and were trying to break
it off; and, oh, all sorts of horrid things I kept thinking! And aunt
gave me a message for you this morning, and I was so out of temper I
wouldn't leave it. And now to find you've been so kind!"

She stretched out her hand to him across the counter, and he took and
held it tight; he had never seen her looking sweeter, nor felt that she
was half so dear to him. After all, his blunder had brought them
together again, and he was grateful to it.

At last Matilda said, "You were quite right about this wrapper, Leander;
it's not half warm enough for a night like this. I'm really afraid to go
home in it."

He knew well enough what she intended him to do; but just then he dared
not appear to understand. "It isn't far, only to Millman Street," he
said; "and you must walk fast, Tillie. I wish I could leave the shop and
come too."

"You want me to ask you downright," she said pouting. "You men can't
even be kind prettily. Don't you want to see how I look in your cloak,
Leander?"

What could he say after that? He must run upstairs, deprive the goddess
of her mantle, and hand it over to Matilda. She had evidently made up
her mind to have that particular cloak, and he must buy the statue
another. It would be expensive; but there was no help for it.

"Certainly," he said, "you shall have it now, dearest, if you'd like to.
I'll run up and fetch it down, if you'll wait."

He rushed upstairs, two steps at a time, and, flinging open the door of
a cupboard, began desperately to uncloak his Aphrodite. She was lifeless
still, which he considered fort