CHAPTER XII.
A LEAP FOR LIFE.
It is impossible to make an ordinary person understand the chaos of mingled feelings with which I heard, two days after the circus performance in which I had so large a share, that Blue-Eyes and Company had departed for a tour of the watering-places--feelings of anguish and relief mixed in about equal proportions.

I madly loved her, but I had known from the first that my love was hopeless, and the thought of meeting her, after having made myself so ridiculous, was torture.

Therefore I felt relief that I was no longer in danger of encountering the mocking laughter of those blue eyes, but I lost my appetite.

I moped, pined, grew pale, freckled, and listless.
"What's the use of wasting harvest apples making dumplings, when you don't eat none, John ?" asked my aunt, one day at dinner, after the hands had left the table.
"Aunt," replied I, solemnly, "don't mock me with apple dumplings; they may be light, but my heart is heavy." "La, John, try a little east on your heart," said she, laughing--by "east" she meant yeast, I suppose.
"No, aunt, not 'east,' but west.

My mind is made up.