lage, and was as good as she was
pretty. To say the truth, the time had been when Bessy had not felt
unkindly towards the yellow-haired lad; but his conduct had long put a
gulf between them, which only the conceit of a scamp would have
attempted to pass. However, he flattered himself that he "knew what the
lasses meant when they said no;" and on the strength of this knowledge
he presumed far enough to elicit a rebuff so hearty and unmistakable,
that for a week he was the laughing-stock of the village. There was no
mistake this time as to what "no" meant; his admiration turned to a
hatred almost as intense, and he went faster "to the bad" than ever.

It was Bessy's little brother who sat by him on the stile; "Beauty
Bill," as he was called, from the large share he possessed of the family
good looks. The lad was one of those people who seem born to be
favorites. He was handsome and merry and intelligent; and being well
brought up, was well-conducted and amiable--the pride and pet of the
village. Why did Mother Muggins of the shop let the goody side of her
scales of justice drop the lower by one lollipop for Bill than for any
other lad, and exempt him by unwonted smiles from her general anathema
on the urchin race? There were other honest boys in the parish who paid
for their treacle-sticks in sterling copper of the realm! The very
roughs of the village were proud of him, and would have showed their
good nature in ways little to his benefit, had not his father kept a
somewhat severe watch upon his habits and conduct. Indeed, good parents
and a strict home counterbalanced the evils of popularity with Beauty
Bill, and on the whole he was little spoilt, and well deserved the favor
he met with. It was under cover of friendly patronage that his companion
was now detaining him; but all the circumstances considered, Bill felt
more suspicious than gratified, and wished Bully Tom anywhere but where
he was.

The man threw out one leg before him like the pendulum of a clock--

"Night school's opened, eh?" he inquired; and back swung the pendulum
against Bill's shins.

"Yes;" and the boy screwed his legs on one side.

"You don't go, do you?"

"Yes, I do," said Bill, trying not to feel ashamed of the fact. "Father
can't spare me to the day-school now, so our Bessy persuaded him to let
me go at nights."

Bully Tom's face looked a shade darker, and the pendulum took a swing
which it was fortunate the lad avoided; but the conversa