aid when we first met that you
had improved. Now I take it all back, for I don't think you half so
nice as when I left you at home. You have grown abominably lazy, you
like gossip, and waste time on frivolous things, you are contented to
be petted and admired by silly people, instead of being loved and
respected by wise ones. With money, talent, position, health, and
beauty, ah you like that old Vanity! But it's the truth, so I can't
help saying it, with all these splendid things to use and enjoy, you
can find nothing to do but dawdle, and instead of being the man you
ought to be, you are only..." there she stopped, with a look that had
both pain and pity in it.

"Saint Laurence on a gridiron," added Laurie, blandly finishing the
sentence. But the lecture began to take effect, for there was a
wide-awake sparkle in his eyes now and a half-angry, half-injured
expression replaced the former indifference.

"I supposed you'd take it so. You men tell us we are angels, and say
we can make you what we will, but the instant we honestly try to do you
good, you laugh at us and won't listen, which proves how much your
flattery is worth." Amy spoke bitterly, and turned her back on the
exasperating martyr at her feet.

In a minute a hand came down over the page, so that she could not draw,
and Laurie's voice said, with a droll imitation of a penitent child, "I
will be good, oh, I will be good!"

But Amy did not laugh, for she was in earnest, and tapping on the
outspread hand with her pencil, said soberly, "Aren't you ashamed of a
hand like that? It's as soft and white as a woman's, and looks as if
it never did anything but wear Jouvin's best gloves and pick flowers
for ladies. You are not a dandy, thank Heaven, so I'm glad to see
there are no diamonds or big seal rings on it, only the little old one
Jo gave you so long ago. Dear soul, I wish she was here to help me!"

"So do I!"

The hand vanished as suddenly as it came, and there was energy enough
in the echo of her wish to suit even Amy. She glanced down at him with
a new thought in her mind, but he was lying with his hat half over his
face, as if for shade, and his mustache hid his mouth. She only saw
his chest rise and fall, with a long breath that might have been a
sigh, and the hand that wore the ring nestled down into the grass, as
if to hide something too precious or too tender to be spoken of. All in
a minute various hints and trifles assumed shape and sig