Thanks to him, I was able to see that ferny wood that's so
famous--about two miles up the road. You know--the one that there's a
poem written about!"

The shot told! Short-lip burst into a display of dazzling little teeth
and caught the other girl convulsively by the shoulders. The superior
girl bent her pretty brows, and said, "Eunice, what's gone of ye? Quit
that!" but, as Hamlin thought, paled slightly.

"Of course," said Hamlin, quickly, "you know--the poem everybody's
talking about. Dear me! let me see! how does it go?" The rascal knit his
brows, said, "Ah, yes," and then murmured the verse he had lately sung
quite as musically.

Short-lip was shamelessly exalted and excited. Really she could scarcely
believe it! She already heard herself relating the whole occurrence.
Here was the most beautiful young man she had ever seen--an entire
stranger--talking to them in the most beautiful and natural way,
right in the lane, and reciting poetry to her sister! It was like a
novel--only more so. She thought that Cynthia, on the other hand, looked
distressed, and--she must say it--"silly."

All of which Jack noted, and was wise. He had got all he wanted--at
present. He gathered up his reins.

"Thank you so much, and your brother, too, Miss Cynthia," he said,
without looking up. Then, adding, with a parting glance and smile, "But
don't tell Bob how stupid I was," he swiftly departed.

In half an hour he was at the Green Springs Hotel. As he rode into the
stable yard, he noticed that the coach had only just arrived, having
been detained by a land-slip on the Summit road. With the recollection
of Bob fresh in his mind, he glanced at the loungers at the stage
office. The boy was not there, but a moment later Jack detected him
among the waiting crowd at the post-office opposite. With a view of
following up his inquiries, he crossed the road as the boy entered the
vestibule of the post-office. He arrived in time to see him unlock one
of a row of numbered letter-boxes rented by subscribers, which occupied
a partition by the window, and take out a small package and a letter.
But in that brief glance Mr. Hamlin detected the printed address of the
"Excelsior Magazine" on the wrapper. It was enough. Luck was certainly
with him.

He had time to get rid of the wicked sparkle that had lit his dark eyes,
and to lounge carelessly towards the boy as the latter broke open the
package, and then hurriedly concealed it in his jacket-pock