d who is he?" inquired Major Howard.

"Why, Edgar Lindenwood! You know him," returned she.

"No, certainly I don't know anything about him," said her father.

"Why, you have seen the tall boy with the morocco cap and light curls,
that used to walk to school with me last term!" said Florence, looking
earnestly in his face.

"O, yes! I have seen him frequently," returned Major H. "What do you say
is his name?"

"Edgar Lindenwood."

"And where does he live?"

"With his uncle."

"And who is his uncle?"

"The Hermit of the Cedars."

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Major Howard. "And so, this young hermit is going
to teach you Latin, Miss Florence? Romantic, upon my word!"

"Edgar is not a hermit!" said Florence, pouting her red lips and assuming
an air of dignity which vastly amused her father. "He is brave,
and bright, and handsome, and, our preceptor says, already a finer
scholar than many a graduate from the university."

"Well, well; I cannot argue the merits of this favorite of yours,
Florence," said her father; "but I promise to give him a larger share of
my attention henceforth."

"I wish you would, father," said Florence. "I may bring him home with me
from school some day,--may I not?"

"No!" returned Major Howard. "I can notice him in the street."

"But you cannot judge of him so far off," pursued Florence. "He looks
better the nearer you approach him."

"I shall judge him best at a distance," remarked her father, moving
away.

Florence did not exactly like the tone of voice in which he uttered
these last words; but she soon forgot all else in the contemplation of
studying Latin, and having Edgar's assistance in learning her lessons.
She had never in her life taken any note of time,--never felt it lag
heavily on her hands; but it appeared to her now that these interminable
days of vacation would never come to an end. She passed one of them with
Edith and Rufus Malcome, and this was by far the most insupportable of
any. "She loved Edith dearly," she said; "but could not endure the
childish prattle and frivolity of Rufus."

He was six months older than Florence, and Edith had seen seventeen
summers, while Florence was only in her fifteenth; but she was so well
matured in manners and appearance as to seem the senior of the delicate,
retiring Edith.

Col. Malcome paid her many courteous attentions during her visit, and
expressed an ardent hope that a friendship and intimacy might spring up
between her an