ud gathered some beautiful flowers, and with the assistance of
Verty made a little wreath, which she tied with a ribbon. Stealing
behind Fanny, she placed this on her head.

"Oh, me?" cried Miss Fanny.

"Yes, for you," said Ralph.

"From Redbud? Oh! thank you. But I'll make you one. Come, sir,"--to
Ralph,--"help me."

"To get flowers?"

"Yes."

"Willingly."

"There is a bunch of primroses."

"Shall I get it?" said Ralph.

"Yes, sir."

"I think you had better," said Ralph.

"Well, sir!"

"Now, Fanny--don't get angry--I will--"

"No, you shan't!"

"Indeed I will!"

The result of this contention, as to who should gather the primroses,
was, that Fanny and Ralph, stooping at the same moment, struck their
faces together, and cried out--the young lady at least.

Fanny blushed very much as she rose--Ralph was triumphant.

"I've got them, however, sir," she said, holding the flowers.

"And I had a disagreeable accident," said Ralph, laughing, and
pretending to rub his head.

"Disagreeable, sir!" cried Fanny, without reflecting.

"Yes!" said Ralph--"why not?"

Fanny found herself involved again in an awkward explanation--the fact
being, that Ralph's lips had, by pure accident, of course, touched her
brow.

It would, therefore, have only complicated matters for Fanny to have
explained why the accident ought not to be "disagreeable," as
Ralph declared it to be. The general reply, however, which we have
endeavored, on various occasions, to represent by the word "Humph!"
issued from the young girl's lips; and busying herself with the
wreath, she passed on, followed by the laughing company.

From the forest, they went to the mossy glen, as we may call it,
though that was not its name; and Verty enlivened the company with a
description of a flock of young partridges which had there started up
once, and running between his feet, disappeared before his very eyes.
Redbud, too, recollected the nice cherries they had eaten from the
trees--as nice as the oxhearts near the house--in the Spring; and
Fanny did too, and told some very amusing stories of beaux being
compelled to climb and throw down boughs laden with their red bunches.

In this pleasant way they strolled along the brook which stole by
in sun and shadow, over mossy rocks, and under bulrushes, where the
minnows haunted--which brook, tradition (and the maps) call to-day by
the name of one member of that party; and so, passing over the slip of
meado