sung to his accordion, as he tried to say
unutterable things with his honest blue eyes. It makes me shiver now to
think of the mosquitoes and the damp; but it was Pauline and Claude
Melnotte then, and when I went home we promised to be true to one
another, and write every week during the year he was away at school.

We parted--not in tears by any means; that sort of nonsense comes
later, when the romance is less childish--but quite jolly and
comfortable, and I hastened to pour forth the thrilling tale to my
faithful sister, who approved of the match, being a perfect 'mush of
sentiment' herself.

I fear it was not a very ardent flame, however, for Gus did not write
every week, and I did not care a bit; nevertheless, I kept his picture
and gave it a sentimental sigh when I happened to think of it, while he
sent messages now and then, and devoted himself to his studies like an
ambitious boy as he was. I hardly expected to see him again, but soon
after the year was out, to my great surprise, he called. I was so
fluttered by the appearance of his card that I rather lost my head, and
did such a silly thing that it makes me laugh even now. He liked
chestnut hair, and, pulling out my combs, I rushed down, theatrically
dishevelled, hoping to impress my lover with my ardour and my charms.

I expected to find little Gus; but, to my great confusion, a tall being
with a beaver in his hand rose to meet me, looking so big and handsome
and generally imposing that I could not recover myself for several
minutes, and mentally wailed for my combs, feeling like an untidy
simpleton.

I don't know whether he thought me a little cracked or not, but he was
very friendly and pleasant, and told me his plans, and hoped I would
make another visit, and smoothed his beaver, and let me see his
tail-coat, and behaved himself like a dear, conceited, clever boy. He
did not allude to our love-passages, being shy, and I blessed him for
it; for really, I don't know what rash thing I might have done under
the exciting circumstances. Just as he was going, however, he forgot
his cherished hat for a minute, put out both hands, and said heartily,
with his old boyish laugh,--

'Now you will come, and we'll go boating and berrying, and all the rest
of it again, won't we?'

The blue eyes were full of fun and feeling, too, I fancied, as I
blushingly retired behind my locks and gave the promise. But I never
went, and never saw my little lover any more, for in