But I must say I like the way he spoke about geraniums.

He showed a real nice feelin'." The words were hardly out of her mouth before Gabriella had caught her in her arms.

"I know I'm horrid, dear Miss Polly," she said penitently, "but I don't like Mr.O'Hara." "Then I shouldn't see any more of him than I was obliged to, honey, and there ain't a bit of use in Archibald's goin' with him if you don't want him to." "I don't like to forbid him.

Of course, I know nothing against the man--it is only a feeling." "Well, feelin's are mighty queer things sometimes," remarked Miss Polly, scoring a triumph which left the indignant Gabriella at her mercy; "and when I come to think of it; I don't recollect that yours have always been such good judges of folks." The geraniums arrived in a small cart the next morning, but O'Hara did not appear, and for several weeks, though Gabriella glanced suspiciously at the hatrack each morning when she passed through the hail, there was no sign of life in his rooms.

Then one afternoon he reappeared as suddenly as he had vanished, and she found Archibald with him in the yard when she came home at six o'clock.