I--ladies!"

"I am afraid we frighten you," said Josephine, demurely.

"Don't be frightened," said Rose, majestically; "we are not VERY angry,
only a LITTLE curious to know why you water our flowers with gold."

At this point-blank thrust, and from her, Edouard was so confounded and
distressed, they both began to pity him. He stammered out that he was
so confused he did not know what to say. He couldn't think how ever he
could have taken such a liberty; might he be permitted to retire? and
with this he tried to slip away.

"Let me detain you one instant," said Josephine, and made for the house.

Left alone so suddenly with the culprit, the dignity, and majesty, and
valor of Rose seemed to ooze gently out; and she stood blushing, and had
not a word to say; no more had Edouard. But he hung his head, and she
hung her head. And, somehow or other, whenever she raised her eyes
to glance at him, he raised his to steal a look at her, and mutual
discomfiture resulted.

This awkward, embarrassing delirium was interrupted by Josephine's
return. She now held another purse in her hand, and quietly poured the
rest of the coin into it. She then, with a blush, requested him to take
back the money.

At that he found his tongue. "No, no," he cried, and put up his hands in
supplication. "Ladies, do let me speak ONE word to you. Do not reject my
friendship. You are alone in the world; your father is dead; your mother
has but you to lean on. After all, I am your neighbor, and neighbors
should be friends. And I am your debtor; I owe you more than you could
ever owe me; for ever since I came into this neighborhood I have been
happy. No man was ever so happy as I, ever since one day I was
walking, and met for the first time an angel. I don't say it was you,
Mademoiselle Rose. It might be Mademoiselle Josephine."

"How pat he has got our names," said Rose, smiling.

"A look from that angel has made me so good, so happy. I used to
vegetate, but now I live. Live! I walk on wings, and tread on roses. Yet
you insist on declining a few miserable louis d'or from him who owes you
so much. Well, don't be angry; I'll take them back, and throw them into
the nearest pond, for they are really no use to me. But then you will
be generous in your turn. You will accept my devotion, my services.
You have no brother, you know; well, I have no sisters; let me be your
brother, and your servant forever."

At all this, delivered in as many little earnest