expectantly.

"No bears this trip, although I almost scalded to death a bare-legged
little girl," was the reply. And with Rose thus made the central figure
of his recital at the very outset, Donald proceeded to tell of his
experiences and new friendships; but consciously refrained from
mentioning the unpleasant incident with which his trip ended, and
Smiles' parting embrace.

His faithful reproduction of the soft mountain dialect brought frequent
smiles from his listeners, and filled the child with delighted
amusement.

"I just love Smiles," she cried, as he finished his story.

"Indeed, so does every one who knows her. _You_ do, don't you, Mike?"
added Donald, and the dog beat a tattoo on the rug with his stumpy tail.

"Witchery," laughed his father. "Even your clumsy description has
strangely stirred my youthful blood, and 'I longs fer ter see this hyar
wonderful child dryad of ther primeval forest.' If you ever go back
there, you had better wear magic armor as protection against that
illusive smile which seems to have cast a spell of enchantment over your
civilized senses."

"Pshaw, you needn't be concerned about my feelings for her. She's no
siren, but a very real little person. I'll admit that she's amazingly
attractive; but she's merely a child."

"Children grow up," teased his sister.

"I'm aware of that natural phenomenon," answered Donald, somewhat
curtly. "But ... Great Scott, can't I describe a fifteen--no,
sixteen-year-old little savage, without all you people imagining that
I'm going to be such a fool as to fall in love with her?"

"Sometimes it isn't what one says, but the way he says it, that
incriminates," put in his brother-in-law, adding his voice to the
general baiting which had apparently disclosed a tender spot.

"Hang it all, I believe that I'll go back and ask Smiles to marry me, if
only to put an end to your teasing," cried Don with a laugh not entirely
natural. "At least I might perhaps succeed in frustrating _your_ obvious
designs, Ethel. Oh, I'm not blind!"

"I've almost concluded that you _are_--or hopeless," answered his
sister. "However, I'm perfectly willing to admit that I would like to
see you married to Marion Treville--she's my closest friend, and would
certainly make you a perfect wife."

"Too perfect, by far. Can you imagine me hitched with that proud and
classic beauty? I should go mad."

"But I want my pretty basket that little Smiles made for me," broke in
Muriel