The Scamp was notorious for his spelling, as this note would at once testify, and his curious mistake as to his hopes of felicity, was only another proof of what a laboured production a letter always was, under his hands. "Isn't it funny of him?" said Mary, stooping down to pick up the letter, which I had flung back towards her. "Are you going to have him ?" I inquired, turning my face over upon the pillow, and trying to prevent my voice from showing any trace of interest or impatience in its tones. For you must not think that because you have never felt them, the angel of Love and the demon of Jealousy cannot enter into the heart of a seven-year-old child. Why, I have heard a lady solemnly declare that she never loved so passionately as she did at the early age of four! Not that I was over head and ears" with Mary. I had only made her a premature proposal, in indirect terms, just as scores of little boys have done before me, and will do again to the end of all time, to the little girls for whom they may entertain a special affection. And, as a rule, the fair favourites are only too ready to return the sentiment, and to enter into the spirit of the thing, with even more energy and enthusiasm than the originator himself can boast; for they must needs think it necessary to do everything very correctly and deliberately, anxious to imitate their superiors in age and wisdom, in all those little forms and ceremonies with which the romance and novelty of a first confession of attachment is usually surrounded. "Are you going to have him, or me?" I repeated, crossly, for Mary had been rescanning Sam's note, and had not, apparently, noticed my previous observation. "No, of course not; I shall have you," she returned, with that open candour which could only possibly exist between two child-lovers. "I like Sam very well, but I like you better," she added naïvely, blushing a little. "And the Scamp said only the other day that he hated girls! That's just like him, to say one thing one day, and do just the opposite the next!" I cried, still half inclined to be jealous of my would-be rival. "I'll always be your nurse, and see to your having your medicine and beef-tea properly," said Mary, contemplatively. "But I shan't be ill always, you know. And as soon as ever I get well, I intend to go down into the village and buy you a ring." "Look here!" cried Mary, jumping up, excitedly. "I've got a bead one here that will do beautifully, I made it myself. I'll take it off this finger, and then you can put it on the proper one. No one will know, then, but ourselves. I shan't tell Ma even, so mind you don't either-because she might think it silly for us to be engaged so young." "All right!" I answered, blithely, as I slipped the homemade ring upon her finger. "Only I wish the Scamp didn't like you, too. He's such a jolly, lively fellow; he can do all sorts of things that I can't. I can't think why you didn't have him;" and I spoke with the peevish air of one who delights in raising imaginary grievances, for the sole purpose of hearing them treated as so many fanciful bogies, and contemptuously knocked down again. "There! There goes the dinner-bell!" I cried, after a pause. 'Now you will have to go down and shake your head at the Scamp, won't you? But I do wish he hadn't asked you : girls are such false things,-you are just as likely as not to marry him-perhaps all the more so for having promised me!" Oh, you jealous, spiteful, old thing!" cried Mary, laughing, as she ran out of the room. "I wonder you haven't a better opinion of your young lady!" 66 CHAPTER XXX. REGGIE AND POLLIE. THE days dragged wearily on. Except for my newly-found pleasure in the companionship of my little sweetheart, some of the days would have seemed almost intolerably long and monotonous. "Mrs. Hughes," I said, eagerly, when she was sitting alone with me, one day, just as it was growing dusk, "won't you let some of the boys come and stay with me for a bit? I know you, and little Mary, and Eliza, are very kind to me, and it sounds dreadfully ungrateful to say so,-but I do want to see some of the fellows again. Just a few of my special 'chums,' Mrs. Hughes,-just Willie Knowles, and Mat, and Harry, and -and-the Scamp, I think-yes, the Scamp ;-and-andRogers, too." 666 'Rogers'?" repeated Mrs. Hughes, wishing, I fancied, to frame an excuse for evading a direct refusal to the other part of my question. Rogers is not here now, you know." "Isn't he?" 66 "Oh dear, no. He was sent off home, the very next day after your accident. Of course, though, you would not be likely to know,-I forgot that." But-very kindly and wisely-Mrs. Hughes refrained from mentioning the share that Rogers had had in bringing about the catastrophe which had resulted in my illness: that was a point which I did not learn until long afterwards. U |