le, as
she sucked her thumb just pricked by a too eager pull at the thorny
branches.

'What are you at here, Mischief?' asked Demi, with an Irvingesque start,
as he felt rather than saw a disturbing influence in his day-dream.

'Getting flowers for "our brides". Don't you wish you had one?' answered
Josie, to whom the word 'mischief' suggested her favourite amusement.

'A bride or a flower?' asked Demi calmly, though he eyed the blooming
bush as if it had a sudden and unusual interest for him.

'Both; you get the one, and I'll give you the other.'

'Wish I could!' and Demi picked a little bud, with a sigh that went to
Josie's warm heart.

'Why don't you, then? It's lovely to see people so happy. Now's a good
time to do it if you ever mean to. She will be going away for ever
soon.'

'Who?' and Demi pulled a half-opened bud, with a sudden colour in his
own face; which sign of confusion delighted little Jo.

'Don't be a hypocrite. You know I mean Alice. Now, Jack, I'm fond
of you, and want to help; it's so interesting--all these lovers and
weddings and things, and we ought to have our share. So you take my
advice and speak up like a man, and make sure of Alice before she goes.'

Demi laughed at the seriousness of the small girl's advice; but he liked
it, and showed that it suited him by saying blandly, instead of snubbing
her as usual:

'You are very kind, child. Since you are so wise, could you give me a
hint how I'd better 'speak up', as you elegantly express it?'

'Oh, well, there are various ways, you know. In plays the lovers go down
on their knees; but that's awkward when they have long legs. Ted never
does it well, though I drill him for hours. You could say, "Be mine,
be mine!" like the old man who threw cucumbers over the wall to Mrs
Nickleby, if you want to be gay and easy; or you could write a poetical
pop. You've tried it, I dare say.'

'But seriously, Jo, I do love Alice, and I think she knows it. I want
to tell her so; but I lose my head when I try, and don't care to make a
fool of myself. Thought you might suggest some pretty way; you read so
much poetry and are so romantic.'

Demi tried to express himself clearly, but forgot his dignity and his
usual reserve in the sweet perplexity of his love, and asked his little
sister to teach him how to put the question which a single word can
answer. The arrival of his happy cousins had scattered all his wise
plans and brave resolutions to wait still l