owers
where the honey lies."

"Where do you expect to find this paragon?"

As if in answer, the humming-bird suddenly caught sight of the red rose
in her dress, and, darting to it, thrust its bill deep into the crimson
heart of the flower. They both gave an exclamation of delighted wonder.

"I have found her," he said firmly, leaning a little toward her, with
mantling cheeks and close-drawn lips, his glowing eyes on her face. "The
bird has found her for me."

The bird darted away.

"Ah, it is gone! What will you give her in return?" She turned to him,
and spoke half mockingly, wishing to get off such delicate ground.

He turned and gazed into her eyes.

"'Worship without end.'" There was that in his face that made her change
color. She looked away and began to think of her own ideal. She found
that her idea of the man she loved had been of height of figure and
breadth of shoulders, a handsome face and fashionable attire. She had
pictured him as tall and straight, taller than this boy and larger every
way, with a straight nose, brown eyes, and dark hair. But chiefly she
had thought of the style of his clothes. She had fancied the neckties he
should wear, and the pins that should be stuck in them. He must be
brave, of course, a beautiful dancer, a fine tennis-player. She had once
thought that black-eyed, handsome young Ferdy Wickersham was as near her
ideal as any one else she knew. He led germans divinely. But he was
selfish, and she had never admired him as much as another man, who was
less showy, but was, she knew, more of a man: Norman Wentworth, a bold
swimmer, a good horseman, and a leader of their set. It suddenly
occurred to her now how much more like this man Norman Wentworth was
than Ferdy Wickersham, and following her thought of the two, she
suddenly stepped up on a higher level and was conscious of a certain
elation, much like that she had had the day she had climbed up before
Gordon Keith on the out-jutting rock and looked far down over the wide
expanse of forest and field, to where his home had been.

She sat for a little while in deep reflection. Presently she said, quite
gravely and a little shyly:

"You know, I am not a bit what you think I am. Why, you treat me as if I
were a superior being. And I am not; I am a very matter-of-fact girl."

He interrupted her with a gesture of dissent, his eyes full of light.

"Nonsense! You don't know me, you don't know men, or you would know that
any girl i