first sight."

"It isn't easy to give reasons for such feelings," I said. "They
spring up, as your father would say, very much like weeds."

"Indeed they do," she interpolated; "sometimes they grow in the middle
of a gravel path where they cannot expect to be allowed to stay."

I reflected a moment. "I don't mind talking about these things to
you," I said. "It seems almost like talking to myself."

"That is a compliment I appreciate," she said. "And now go on. Why do
you care for her?"

"Well," said I, "in the first place, she is very handsome. Don't you
think so?"

"Oh yes! In fact, I think she is almost what might be called exactly
beautiful."

"Then she has such charming manners," I continued. "And she is so
sensible--although you may not think I had much chance to find out
that. Moreover, there is a certain sympathetic cordiality about her--"

"Which, of course," interrupted my companion, "you suppose she would
not show to any man but you."

"Yes," said I. "I am speaking honestly now, and that's the way it
strikes me. Of course I may be a fool, but I did think that a sympathy
had arisen between us which would not arise between her and anybody
else."

Miss Edith laughed heartily. "I am getting to know a great deal about
one side of the subject," she said. "And now tell me--is that all? I
don't believe it is."

"No," I answered, "it is not. There is something more which makes her
attractive to me. I cannot exactly explain it except by saying that it
is her surrounding atmosphere--it is everything that pertains to her.
It is the life she lives, it is her home, it is the beauty and peace,
the sense of charm which infuses her and everything that belongs to
her."

"Beautiful!" said Miss Edith. "I expected an answer like that, but not
so well put. Now let me translate it into plain, simple language. What
you want is to give up your present life, which must be awfully
stupid, and go and help Mrs. Chester keep the Holly Sprig. That would
suit you exactly. A charming wife, charming surroundings, charming
sense of living, a life of absolute independence! But don't think,"
she added, quickly, "that I am imputing any sordid motives to you. I
meant nothing of the kind. You would do just as much to make the inn
popular as she would. I expect you would make her rich."

"Miss Edith Larramie," said I, "you are a heartless deceiver! It makes
my blood run cold to hear you speak in that way."

"Never mind that," she s