ome, who had had experience in such matters, laughed
outright.

The boy turned white. The woman did not realize it, but it was really
a cruel thing which she was doing. She laughed heartily.

"Why, my dear boy," she said. "You are too young and I am too old.
You had better wait and marry Maria, when you are both grown up."

Wollaston turned his back upon her, and marched out of the room.
Maria lingered, in the vain hope that she might bring the teacher to
a reconsideration of the matter.

"He's a good deal younger than father, and he's better looking," said
she.

Miss Slome blushed then.

"Oh, you sweet little thing, then you know--" she began.

Maria interrupted her. She became still more traitorous to her father.

"Father has a real bad temper, when things go wrong," said she.
"Mother always said so."

Miss Slome only laughed harder.

"You funny little darling," she said.

"And Wollaston has a real good disposition, his mother told my aunt
Maria so," she persisted.

The room fairly rang with Miss Slome's laughter, although she tried
to subdue it. Maria persisted.

"And father isn't a mite handy about the house," said she. "And Mrs.
Lee told Aunt Maria that Wollaston could wipe dishes and sweep as
well as a girl."

Miss Slome laughed.

"And I've got a bad temper, too, when I'm crossed; mother always said
so," said Maria. Her lip quivered.

Miss Slome left her desk, came over to Maria, and, in spite of her
shrinking away, caught her in her arms.

"You are a little darling," said she, "and I am not a bit afraid of
your temper." She hesitated a moment, looking at the child's averted
face, and coloring. "My dear, has your father told you?" she
whispered; then, "I didn't know he had."

"No, ma'am, he hasn't," said Maria. She fairly pulled herself loose
from Miss Slome and ran out of the room. Her eyes were almost blinded
with tears; she could scarcely see Wollaston Lee on the road, ahead
of her, also running. He seemed to waver as he ran. Maria called out
faintly. He evidently heard, for he slackened his pace a little; then
he ran faster than ever. Maria called again. This time the boy
stopped until the girl came up. He picked a piece of grass, as he
waited, and began chewing it.

"How do you know that isn't poison?" said Maria, breathlessly.

"Don't care if it is; hope it is," said the boy.

"It's wicked to talk so."

"Let it be wicked then."

"I don't see how I am to blame for any of it," M