I saw she was alone, and so I hemmed, and said: "Have you any one to see you home ?" She said, "No; but I'm not afraid--it's not far," and stopped and waited for me to offer her my arm, looking up at me with those bewitching eyes.
"Oh," said I, dying to wait upon her, but not daring to crook my elbow before the crowd, "I'm glad of that; but if you are the least bit timid, Miss Marigold, father and I will walk home with you." Then I heard a suppressed laugh behind me, and, turning, saw that detestable Fred Hencoop, who never knew what it was to feel modest since the day his nurse tied his first bib on him.
"Miss Marigold," said he, looking as innocent as a lamb, "if you do me the honor to accept my arm, I'll try and take you home without calling on my pa to assist me in the arduous duty." And she went with him.
I was very low-spirited on the way home.
"As sure as I live I'll go and call on her to-morrow evening, and show her I'm not the fool she thinks I am," I said, between my gritted teeth.

"I'll take her a new sash to replace the one I spoiled at the picnic, and we'll see who's the best fellow, Hencoop or I." The next afternoon I measured off four yards of the sweetest sash-ribbon ever seen in Babbletown, and charged myself with seven dollars--half my month's salary, as agreed upon between father and me--and rolled up the ribbon in white tissue paper, preparatory to the event of the evening.
"Where are you going ?" father asked, as I edged out of the store just after dark.
"Oh, up the street a piece." "Well, here's a pair o' stockings to be left at the Widow Jones'.

Just call as you go by and leave 'em, will you ?" I stuck the little bundle he gave me in my coat-tail pocket; but by the time I passed the Widow Jones' house I was so taken up with the business on hand that I forgot all about the stockings.
I could see Miss Marigold sitting at the piano and hear her singing as I passed the window.

It was awful nice, and, to prolong the pleasure, I stayed outside about half an hour, then a summer shower came up, and I made up my mind and rang the bell.

Jane came to the door.
"Is the squire at home ?" says I.
"No, sir, he's down to the hotel; but Miss Marigold, she's to hum," said the black girl, grinning.