She was as uncivil to him as sweet Cecily could be to anyone, but the gallant Cyrus was nothing daunted.

He laid determined siege to Cecily's young heart by all the methods known to love-lorn swains.

He placed delicate tributes of spruce gum, molasses taffy, "conversation" candies and decorated slate pencils on her desk; he persistently "chose" her in all school games calling for a partner; he entreated to be allowed to carry her basket from school; he offered to work her sums for her; and rumour had it that he had made a wild statement to the effect that he meant to ask if he might see her home some night from prayer meeting.

Cecily was quite frightened that he would; she confided to me that she would rather die than walk home with him, but that if he asked her she would be too bashful to say no.

So far, however, Cyrus had not molested her out of school, nor had he as yet thumped Willy Fraser--who was reported to be very low in his spirits over the whole affair.
And now Cyrus had written Cecily a letter--a love letter, mark you.
Moreover, he had sent it through the post-office, with a real stamp on it.