ar! You've broke my heart."

"No, I haven't, darling. There, there. Kisses'll mend the place.
There--and there--and there."

"But you're sorry you met me, and you don't love me a bit. If I'd known
what getting married meant you wouldn't have caught me running off on
the sly."

"Don't--don't cry, I tell you," cried the boy, passionately. "I didn't
mean it. You know that I love you awfully, only a man can't help saying
things when he's in such a mess. You don't know what my aunt is."

"And you don't know what my father is."

"Oh, don't I? An old ruffian," added the boy to himself.

"Your aunt's only a woman, and she got married herself."

"Oh, yes, that's true; but she isn't like other women. She didn't marry
for love."

"And I don't wonder at it," said the girl, dismally. "Love ain't, as
father says, all beer and skittles."

"Don't cry, I tell you," said Syd, angrily, as the girl rubbed her eyes,
boy-fashion, with the cuffs of her jacket, after a vain attempt to find
her handkerchief.

"Well, ain't I wiping away the tears, and got no--here, lend us yours,
Syd."

She snatched the boy's handkerchief out of his breast-pocket, and had a
comfortable wipe.

"You used to kiss my eyes dry once, when father had been rowing me,
Syd."

"Yes, and so I will now if you'll go away, darling."

"But I'm afraid, Syd. What with the letters, and the races and the
people, and the book he's making on Jim Crow he's in such a temper that
I thought he'd beat me."

"What!" cried Syd, furiously, "strike my wife?"

"He didn't, Syd dear; but I thought he would."

"An old wretch! I'd kill him!"

"No, you wouldn't, Syd dear," said the girl, kittening up to him and
rubbing her cheek up against his; "but it's so nice of you to say so,
and it makes me feel that you do love your little wifey ever so much."

"Of course I do, soft, beautiful little owlet."

"Then had I better stay?"

"What! Here?"

"Yes; I'm sure Lady Lisle'll like me when she sees me. I'll stop, and
we'll go down on our knees together, like they do at the Orphoean, and
say: `Forgive us, mother--I mean, aunt dear--and it'll be all right.'
`Bless you, my children.' You know, Syd."

"Look here, don't put me in a passion again, or I shall be saying
nastier things than ever."

"But why, dear? What for? I am your little wife, you know."

"Oh, yes, I know, Titty, but it'll make such a horrid upset. Here, I'm
expecting uncle down every moment."