nd in confirmation of her words.

In all the world there was no breast freer from ill temper than hers; no
heart more gentle, tender, and trustful. Her nature was like a burning
spring. It was pure, cool, and limpid to its greatest depths, though
there was fire in it.

Dic did not consider himself obliged to release Rita's hand at once, and
as she evidently thought it would be impolite to withdraw it, there is
no telling what mistakes might have happened had not Tom appeared upon
the scene.

Tom seated himself beside Dic just as that young man dropped Rita's
hand, and just as the young lady moved a little way toward her end of
the log.

"You are home early," remarked Rita.

"Yes," responded Tom, "Doug Hill was there--the lubberly pumpkin-head."

No man of honor would remain in a young lady's parlor if at the time of
his arrival she had another gentleman visitor unless upon the request of
the young lady, and no insult so deep and deadly could be offered to the
man in possession as the proffer of such a request by the young lady to
the intruder.

After a few minutes of silence Tom remarked: "This night reminds me of
the night I come from Cincinnati to Brookville on the canal-boat.
Everything's so warm and clear like. I set out on top of the boat and
seed the hills go by."

"Did the hills go by?" asked Rita, who had heard the story of Tom's
Cincinnati trip many times.

"Well, they seemed to go by," answered Tom. "Of course, they didn't
move. It was the boat. But I jest seed them move as plain as I see that
cloud up yonder."

That Tom had not profited by Billy Little's training and his mother's
mild corrections now and then (for the Chief Justice had never entirely
lost the habits of better days), was easily discernible in his speech.
Rita's English, like Dic's and Billy Little's, was corrupted in spots by
evil communication; but Tom's--well, Tom was no small part of the evil
communication itself.

Dic had heard the Cincinnati story many times, and when he saw symptoms
of its recurrence, he rose and said:--

"Well, Tom, if you _seed_ the hills go by, you'll _seed_ me go by if you
watch, for I'm going home," and with a good night he started up the
river path, leaving Rita and her brother Tom seated on the log.

"So Doug Hill was there?" asked Rita.

"Yes," responded Tom; "and how any girl can let him kiss her, I don't
know. His big yaller face reminds me of the under side of a mud-turtle."

"I hope Sukey