yes upon him, while the young Dinks was perplexed by a
singular feeling of happiness.

They were content to moralize upon sympathy for some time. Alfred was
fascinated, and a little afraid. Fanny moved her Junonine shoulders, bent
her swan-like neck, drew off one glove and played with her rings, fanned
herself gently at intervals, and, with just enough embarrassment not to
frighten her companion, opened and closed her fan.

"What a fine fellow Bowdoin Beacon is!" said Miss Fanny, a little
suddenly, and in a tone of suppressed admiration, as she drew on her
glove and laid her fan in her lap, as if on the point of departure.

"Yes, he's a very good sort of fellow."

"How cold you men always are in speaking of each other! I think him a
splendid fellow. He's so handsome. He has such glorious dark hair--almost
as dark as yours, Mr. Dinks."

Alfred half raged, half smiled.

"Do you know," continued Fanny, looking down a little, and speaking a
little lower--"do you know if he has any particular favorites among the
girls here?"

Alfred was dreadfully alarmed.

"If he has, how happy they must be! I think him a magnificent sort of
man; but not precisely the kind I should think a girl would fall in love
with. Should you?"

"No," replied Alfred, mollified and bewildered. He rallied in a moment.
"What sort of man do girls fall in love with, Miss Fanny?"

Fanny Newt was perfectly silent. She looked down upon the floor of the
piazza, fixing her eyes upon a pine-knot, patiently waiting, and
wondering which way the grain of the wood ran.

The silence continued. Every moment Alfred was conscious of an increasing
nervousness. There were the Junonine shoulders--the neck--the downcast
eyes--moonlight--the softened music.

"Why don't you answer?" asked he, at length.

Fanny bent her head nearer to him, and dropped these words into his
waistcoat:

"How good you are! I am so happy!"

"What on earth have I done?" was the perplexed, and pleased, and
ridiculous reply.

"Mr. Dinks, how could I answer the question you asked without
betraying--?"

"What?" inquired Alfred, earnestly.

"Without betraying what sort of man _I_ love," breathed Fanny, in the
lowest possible tone, which could be also perfectly distinct, and with
her head apparently upon the point of dropping after her words into his
waistcoat.

"Well?" said Dinks.

"Well, I can not do that, but I will make a bargain with you. If you will
say what sort of girl yo