This continued until she was fairly crying, dropping the letter from her hands and rocking to and fro.

In the midst of this she quickly stopped again; the clouds broke, a sunshine of laughter started from her eyes, she laughed shyly, she laughed loudly, she laughed hysterically.

Then she stopped again as suddenly, knitted her brows, swooped down once more upon the letter, and turned to fly.

But at the same moment the letter was quietly but firmly taken from her hand, and Mr.Jack Cranch stood beside her.
Juanita was crimson, but unconquered.

She mechanically held out her hand for the letter; the American took her little fingers, kissed them, and said:-- "How are you again ?" "The letter," replied Juanita, with a strong disposition to stamp her foot.
"But," said Cranch, with business directness, "you've read enough to know it isn't for you." "Nor for you either," responded Juanita.
"True.