done, and had a proposal from Mr.
Murray, and you better go down quick. Oh, it's too funny, and he's
dreadfully in earnest; there's something about a sweet possibility, and
you'd better go down and listen to it."

"What do you mean?" cried Kittie, starting up, and dropping her book,
with a vague idea that Kat had lost her senses.

"He thought I was you. Oh, it's too funny! and he is out there by the
geranium-bed waiting for you," cried Kat, convulsed with laughter; and
Kittie dropped into her chair, all trembling.

"Oh, Kat! how could you?"

"Bless you, I didn't do anything except promise to send you down, and
you better go. There, you look like a peach. Put this little posy in
your hair and go on."

"Oh, I can't," cried Kittie, all blushes and shyness.

"Yes, you can, you must; it will never do in the world!" exclaimed Kat
with decision; so with many pauses, much hesitation and trembling,
Kittie went, and appeared shyly before her lover with down-cast eyes,
and all the sweet color fled from cheek and lips.

Of course, no one said anything, but somehow the secret crept into the
gay company, and Kittie found her ordeal so trying that she threatened
to go home.

"Of course we'll go as soon as Ralph comes," said Kat, who had her own
reasons for wanting to get away then; so Kittie promised to wait those
few days. It was very evident that Kat was going to meet him on the
road, for one lovely afternoon, a few days later, she was seen to stroll
away, dressed with particular care in a pale blue lawn, with bunches of
forget-me-nots in her hair and belt, and a very big hat that
conveniently and becomingly shaded her eyes, and flapped in the breeze
as she walked.

The train was in; it had whizzed around the corner of Raymond's farm
over an hour ago, and Ralph had had time to nearly make the distance
between the depot and a certain tall sycamore tree, where she had
decided to stop and wait; so she strolled slowly, with her eyes down,
and thought of him. He would look just as he used to, she thought, not
realizing the time that had elapsed, nor how much she had changed
herself. There would be the merry dark eyes, and faint mustache, the
eager, almost boyish face and figure, and he would kiss her, as he used
to, and how funny it would seem, to think they were nearly engaged.

She smiled to herself, unconscious that he was drawing near, and eagerly
watching the pretty, slight, blue-robed figure, strolling in the
sunshine;