t's pretty hard, I know. The trouble
to-night was, that Lina Maynard, who is one of the older girls, has
invited nearly everybody at the Seminary except Amy to a birthday party
to-morrow. Little minx, I could shake her. And the worst of it is, Amy
thinks there 's nobody like Lina Maynard."

After tea it was still light, and Arthur and Amy went out to walk. In
spite of the ten years difference in their ages, he always enjoyed
her company as well as anybody's in the world, because she was so
refreshingly childlike and natural. Every chord of feeling answered so
true and clear to the touch, that to talk with her was like playing on a
musical instrument, only far more delightful. Arthur had looked
forward to walks and talks with Amy as among the jolliest treats of his
vacation. She tried her best now to seem light-hearted, and to entertain
him with the local gossip, for which he always depended on her. But she
could n't simulate the vivacious and eager air that had been the chief
charm of her talk. As he glanced down, he was grieved to see the sad
set of the pretty child face at his side, and how still had grown
the fountain of smiles in the hazel eyes that were wont to send their
ripples outward in constant succession. It is to be feared that under
his breath he applied some very ungentlemanly language to Lina Maynard
and her clique, whose nonsenical ill-nature had hurt this little
girl's feelings so sorely, and incidentally spoiled half the fun of his
vacation.

"There, there, you need n't talk any more," he finally said, rather
rudely, half vexed with her, as helpful people are wont to be with those
they can do nothing to help.

She looked up in grieved surprise, but before he could speak again, they
came face to face with a party of girls coming from the direction of the
Seminary.

There were six or seven of them, perhaps, but Arthur only got the
impression of one and a lot of others. The one was a rather tall girl
of lithe figure and unusually fine carriage. Her olive complexion
was lighted with great black eyes that rested on you with an air of
imperturbable assurance, as penetrating as it was negligent. She was
talking, and her companions were listening and laughing. As they came
face to face with Arthur and Amy, he saw that they barely noticed her,
while glancing at him rather curiously, with the boldness of girls in a
crowd of their own sex. They evidently observed that he was a stranger
to the village, and of