reaches up and takes a grape.

I caught some one taking a grape the other evening--a sort of green
grape. Sylvia has been sending bouquets to the gosling who was her
escort on the evening of her Commencement--him of the duck trousers and
webbed feet. On one occasion I have observed her walking along the
borders of my garden in his company and have overheard her telling him
that _he_ could come in and get flowers whenever he wished. I wish I
might catch him once.

To cap the climax, after twilight on the evening in question, I
strolled out to my arbor for a quiet hour with thoughts of Georgiana.
Whom should I surprise in there but Sylvia and the gosling! deep in the
shadow of the vines. He had his arm around her and was kissing her.

"Upon my honor!" I said; and striding over to him I thrust my hand
under his coattails, gripped him by the seat of his ducks, dragged him
head downward to the front fence and dropped him out into the street.

"Let me catch _you_ in here kissing anybody again!" I said.

He had bit me viciously on one of my calves--which are sizable--as I
had dragged him along; so that, I had been forced to stoop down and
twist him loose by screwing the end of his spongy nose. I met him on
the street early the next morning, and it wore the hue of a wild plum
in its ripeness. I tapped it.

"Only three persons know of your misbehavior last night," I said. "If
you ever breathe it to a soul that you soiled that child by your touch,
the next time I get hold of you it will not be your nose: it will be
your neck!"

My mortification at Sylvia's laxness was so keen that I should have
forborne returning to the arbor had I not felt assured that she must
have escaped to the house through modesty and sheer shame. But she had
not budged.

"I blush for you, Sylvia!" I exclaimed. "I know all about that fellow!
He shouldn't kiss--my old cat!"

"I don't see what _you_ have to do with it!" said Sylvia, placidly.
"And I have waited to tell you that I hope you will never interrupt me
again when I am engaged in entertaining a young gentleman."

"Sylvia, my dear child!" I said, gravely, sitting down beside her.
"How old are you?"

"I am of the proper age to manage my own affairs," said Sylvia, "with
the assistance of my immediate family."

"Well, I don't think you are," I replied. "And since your brother is
at West Point, there is one thing that I am going to take the liberty
of telling you, which the other