aid Compton, proudly. Then, after
reflection, "Perhaps, when we are older, we may persuade them to make
friends. I think it is very stupid to quarrel; don't you?"

"As stupid as an owl."

"You and I had a quarrel once, Ruperta."

"Yes, you misbehaved."

"No, no; you were cross."

"Story! Well, never mind: we _did_ quarrel. And you were miserable
directly."

"Not so very," said Compton, tossing his head.

"I _was,_ then," said Ruperta, with unguarded candor.

"So was I."

"Good boy! Kiss me, dear."

"There--and there--and there--and--"

"That will do. I want to talk, Compton."

"Yes, dear."

"I'm not very sure, but I rather think I'm in love with you--a little,
little bit, you know."

"And I'm sure I'm in love with you, Ruperta."

"Over head an' ears?"

"Yes."

"Then I love you to distraction. Bother the gate! If it wasn't for
that, I could run in the meadow with you; and marry you perhaps, and so
gather cowslips together for ever and ever."

"Let us open it."

"You can't."

"Let us try."

"I have. It won't be opened."

"Let _me_ try. Some gates want to be lifted up a little, and then they
will open. There, I told you so."

The gate came open.

Ruperta uttered an exclamation of delight, and then drew back.

"I'm afraid, Compton," said she, "papa would be angry."

She wanted Compton to tempt her; but that young gentleman, having a
strong sense of filial duty, omitted so to do.

When she saw he would not persuade her, she dispensed. "Come along,"
said she, "if it is only for five minutes."

She took his hand, and away they scampered. He showed her the cowslips,
the violets, and all the treasures of the meadow; but it was all hurry,
and skurry, and excitement; no time to look at anything above half a
minute, for fear of being found out: and so, at last, back to the gate,
beaming with stolen pleasure, glowing and sparkling with heat and
excitement.

The cunning thing made him replace the gate, and then, after saying she
must go for about an hour, marched demurely back to the house.

After one or two of these hasty trips, impunity gave her a sense of
security, and, the weather getting warm, she used to sit in the meadow
with her beau and weave wreaths of cowslips, and place them in her
black hair, and for Comp-ton she made coronets of bluebells, and
adorned his golden head.

And sometimes, for a little while, she would nestle to him, and lean
her head, with all the feminine grace o