ittle Lover was not smiling. His
small face was grave first, then illumined with the light of willing
sacrifice. The treasures were all so beautiful! She would be so
pleased,--my, _my_, how please She would be! Of course She would like
the big golden alley the best,--the very best. But the singing-top
was only a tiny little way behind in its power to charm. Perhaps She
had never seen a singing-top--think o' that! Perhaps She had never
had a great golden alley, or a corkscrew jack-knife, or a canary-bird
whistle, or a red and white "Kandy Kiss,"--or a licorice-stick! Think
o' that--think of how pleased She would be!

"'Course She will," laughed the Little Lover in his delight. If he
only dared to give Her the Treasury Box! If he only knew how! If
there was somebody he could ask,--but the housekeeper was too old,
and Uncle Larry would laugh. There was nobody.

The waiting wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't for the red-cheeked pear
in the Treasury Box, and the softest apple. They made it a little
dang'rous to wait.

It had not been very long that he had loved Her. The first Sunday
that She smiled at him across the aisle was the beginning. He had not
gone to sleep that Sunday, nor since, on any of the smiling Sundays.
He had not wanted to. It had been rest enough to sit and watch Her
from the safe shelter of the housekeeper's silken cloak. Her clear,
fresh profile, Her pretty hair, Her ear, Her throat--he liked to
watch them all. It was rest enough,--as if, after that, he could have
gone to sleep!

She was very tall, but he liked her better for that. He meant to be
tall some day. Just now he did not reach-- But he did not wish to
think of that. It troubled him to remember that Sunday that he had
measured himself secretly beside Her, as the people walked out of
church. It made him blush to think how very little way he had
"reached." He had never told any one, but then he never told any one
anything. Not having any mother, and your father being away all the
time, and the housekeeper being old, and your uncle Larry always
laughing, made it diff'rent 'bout telling things. Of course if you
had 'em--mothers, and fathers that stayed at home, and uncles that
didn't laugh,--but you didn't. So you 'cided it was better not to
tell things.

One Sunday the Little Lover thought he detected Uncle Larry watching
Her too. But he was never quite certain sure. Anyway, when She had
turned Her beautiful head and smiled across the aisle, it