one.

"Oh, I don't believe father will ever give her a diamond ring in the
world," said she.

"She's wearing one, anyhow--I saw it," said Wollaston. "Where did she
get it if he didn't give it to her, I'd like to know?"

Maria felt cold.

"I don't believe it," she said again. "Teacher is all alone in the
school-house, correcting exercises. Why don't you get right up, and
go back and ask her? I'll go with you, if you want me to."

Wollaston raised himself indeterminately upon one elbow.

"Come along," urged Maria.

Wollaston got up slowly. His face was a burning red.

"You are a good deal younger and better looking than father," urged
Maria, traitorously.

The boy was only a year older than Maria. He was much larger and
taller, but although she looked a child, at that moment he looked
younger. Both of his brown hands hung at his sides, clinched like a
baby's. He had a sulky expression.

"Come along," urged the girl.

He stood kicking the ground hesitatingly for a moment, then he
followed the girl across the field. They went down the road until
they came to the school-house. Miss Slome was still there; her
graceful profile could be seen at a window.

Both children marched in upon Miss Slome, who was in a
recitation-room, bending over a desk. She looked up, and her face
lightened at sight of Maria.

"Oh, it's you, dear?" said she.

Maria then saw, for the first time, the white sparkle of a diamond on
the third finger of her left hand. She felt that she hated her.

"He wants to speak to you," she said, indicating Wollaston with a
turn of her hand.

Miss Slome looked inquiringly at Wollaston, who stood before her like
a culprit, blushing and shuffling, and yet with a sort of doggedness.

"Well, what is it, Wollaston?" she asked, patronizingly.

"I came back to ask you if--you would have me?" said Wollaston, and
his voice was hardly audible.

Miss Ida Slome looked at him in amazement; she was utterly dazed.

"Have you?" she repeated. "I think I do not quite understand you.
What do you mean by 'have you,' Wollaston?"

"Marry me," burst forth the boy.

There was a silence. Maria looked at Miss Slome, and, to her utter
indignation, the teacher's lips were twitching, and it took a good
deal to make Miss Slome laugh, too; she had not much sense of humor.

In a second Wollaston stole a furtive glance at Miss Slome, which was
an absurd parody on a glance of a man under similar circumstances,
and Miss Sl