I'm beginning to get pleasant already--and I was cross as two sticks when I--" And then she insisted he should have at least three more to make him at all bearable, and he said there would be no living with him he would be so charming and agreeable, and so the talk ran on, the battledoor and shuttlecock kind of talk--the same prattle that we have all listened to dozens of times, or should have listened to, to have kept our hearts young.

And yet not a talk at all; a play, rather, in which words count for little and the action is everything: Listening to the toss of a curl or the lowering of an eyelid; answering with a lift of the hand--such a strong brown hand, that could pull an oar, perhaps, or help her over dangerous places! Then her white teeth, and the way the head bent; and then his ears and how close they lay to his head; and the short, glossy hair with the faintest bit of a curl in it.

And then the sudden awakening: Oh, yes--it was the sugar Mr.Breen wanted, of course.

What was I thinking of?
And so the game went on, neither of them caring where the ball went so that it could be hit again when it came their way.
When it was about to stay its flight I ventured in with the remark that she must not forget to give my kindest and best to her good father.

I think she had forgotten I was standing so near.
"And you know daddy!" she cried--the real girl was shining in her eyes now--all the coquetry had vanished from her face.
"Yes--we worked together on the piers of the big bridge over the Delaware; oh, long ago." "Isn't he the very dearest?
He promised to come here today, but I know he won't.