pocket, and it's so uncomfortable he can't
help remembering it. Pen says she's going to adopt the
three-cornered-block plan with papa."

"Thank you," said Corey. "I believe I'll use your card." He crossed
over to her, and after a moment sat down on the trestle beside her.
She looked over the card as he wrote. "Those are the ones we
mentioned, but perhaps I'd better add a few others."

"Oh, thank you," she said, when he had written the card full on both
sides. "He has got to get them in the nicest binding, too. I shall
tell him about their helping to furnish the room, and then he can't
object." She remained with the card, looking at it rather wistfully.

Perhaps Corey divined her trouble of mind. "If he will take that to
any bookseller, and tell him what bindings he wants, he will fill the
order for him."

"Oh, thank you very much," she said, and put the card back into her
card-case with great apparent relief. Then she turned her lovely face
toward the young man, beaming with the triumph a woman feels in any bit
of successful manoeuvring, and began to talk with recovered gaiety of
other things, as if, having got rid of a matter annoying out of all
proportion to its importance, she was now going to indemnify herself.

Corey did not return to his own trestle. She found another shaving
within reach of her parasol, and began poking that with it, and trying
to follow it through its folds. Corey watched her a while.

"You seem to have a great passion for playing with shavings," he said.
"Is it a new one?"

"New what?"

"Passion."

"I don't know," she said, dropping her eyelids, and keeping on with her
effort. She looked shyly aslant at him. "Perhaps you don't approve of
playing with shavings?"

"Oh yes, I do. I admire it very much. But it seems rather difficult.
I've a great ambition to put my foot on the shaving's tail and hold it
for you."

"Well," said the girl.

"Thank you," said the young man. He did so, and now she ran her
parasol point easily through it. They looked at each other and
laughed. "That was wonderful. Would you like to try another?" he
asked.

"No, I thank you," she replied. "I think one will do."

They both laughed again, for whatever reason or no reason, and then the
young girl became sober. To a girl everything a young man does is of
significance; and if he holds a shaving down with his foot while she
pokes through it with her parasol, she must ask herself what he me