ed an apple with a
playmate,--

"Is it good?"

"Oh, very!"--and the man looked as honestly grateful for the book as
the boy would have done for the apple.

Only five words in the conversation, but Aunt Pen woke, as if the
watchful spirit of propriety had roused her to pluck her charge from
the precipice on which she stood.

"Dora, I'm astonished at you! Speaking to strangers in that free manner
is a most unladylike thing. How came you to forget what I have told
you over and over again about a proper reserve?" The energetic whisper
reached the gentleman's ear, and he expected to be annihilated with a
look when his offence was revealed; but he was spared that ordeal, for
the young voice answered, softly,--

"Don't faint, Aunt Pen: I only did as I'd be done by; for I had two
books, and the poor man looked so hungry for something to read that I
couldn't resist sharing my 'goodies.' He will see that I'm a
countrified little thing in spite of my fine feathers, and won't be
shocked at my want of rigidity and frigidity; so don't look dismal, and
I'll be prim and proper all the rest of the way,--if I don't forget it."

"I wonder who he is; may belong to some of our first families, and in
that case it might be worth while to exert ourselves, you know. Did you
learn his name, Dora?" whispered the elder lady.

Debby shook her head, and murmured, "Hush!"--but Aunt Pen had heard of
matches being made in cars as well as in heaven; and as an experienced
general, it became her to reconnoitre, when one of the enemy approached
her camp. Slightly altering her position, she darted an
all-comprehensive glance at the invader, who seemed entirely absorbed,
for not an eyelash stirred during the scrutiny. It lasted but an
instant, yet in that instant he was weighed and found wanting; for that
experienced eye detected that his cravat was two inches wider than
fashion ordained, that his coat was not of the latest style, that his
gloves were mended, and his handkerchief neither cambric nor silk.
That was enough, and sentence was passed forthwith,--"Some respectable
clerk, good-looking, but poor, and not at all the thing for Dora"; and
Aunt Pen turned to adjust a voluminous green veil over her niece's
bonnet, "To shield it from the dust, dear," which process also shielded
the face within from the eye of man.

A curious smile, half mirthful, half melancholy, passed over their
neighbor's lips; but his peace of mind seemed undisturbed, and h