senses and beg pardon for mistaking a joke for an insult!'"

Jerry-Jo paused to laugh. Then:

"So here am I with the boatload--there's a box of seeds for your
father--and then I'm off to the Hill Place, for them as stays there has
come, and there are boxes and packages for them as usual."

Jerry-Jo proceeded to extract Mr. Glenn's box from the boat, and
Priscilla, her clear skin flushed with excitement, drew near to examine
the cargo.

"More books!" she gasped. "Oh, Jerry-Jo, do you remember the first book?"

"Do I?" Jerry-Jo had shouldered the box of seeds and now bent upon the
girl a glad, softened look.

"Do I? You was a wild thing then, Priscilla. And I told him about the
slob of a tear and he laughed in his big, queer way, and he said, I
remember well, that by that token the book was more yours than his, and
he wanted me to carry it back, but I knew what was good for you, and I
would not! See here, Priscilla, would you like to have a peek at this?"
And then Jerry-Jo put his burden down, and, returning to the boat, drew
from under the seat a book in a clean separate wrapper and held it out
toward her.

"Oh!" The hands were as eager as of old.

"What will you give for it?" A deep red mounted to the young fellow's
cheeks.

"Anything, Jerry-Jo."

"A--kiss?"

"Yes"--doubtfully; "yes."

The book was in the outstretched hands, the hot kiss lay upon the smooth,
girlish neck, and then they looked at each other.

"It--is _his_ book?"

"No. Yours--I sent for it, myself."

"Oh! Jerry-Jo. And how did you know?"

"I copied it from that one of his."

Priscilla tore the wrappings asunder and saw that the book was a
duplicate of the one over which, long ago, she had loved and wept.

"Thank you, Jerry-Jo," the voice faltered; "but I wish it--had the tear
spot."

"That was _his_ book; this is yours." An angry light flashed in
Jerry-Jo's eyes. He had arranged this surprise with great pains and had
used all his savings.

"But it cannot be the same, Jerry-Jo. Thank you--but----"

"Give us another kiss?" The young fellow begged.

Priscilla drew back and held out the book.

"No." She was ready to relinquish the poems, but she would not buy them.

"Keep the book--it's yours."

Jerry-Jo scowled. And then he shouldered the box and ran up the path.
When he came back Priscilla was gone, and the spring day seemed
commonplace and dull to Jerry-Jo; the adventure was over. Priscilla had
filled her pails and had c