hool, he ignored girls; and later, as he began to bring her flag-root
in summer, or draw her on his sled in winter, she had taken more notice
of him. When he left the little brown schoolhouse for good she had
given him a lock of hair, though for what reason she could hardly tell;
and when he walked home with her from his first party she felt startled
a little at his boldness in kissing her. That act had caused a flutter
in her feelings, and though she thought none the less of him for it,
nothing would have tempted her to tell her parents about it. That
experience may be considered as the birthday of her girlish love, and
after that they were always the best of friends. He had never been
presuming, but had always treated her with a kind of manly respect that
slowly but surely had won her heart.

When they met at the academy she feared he might be too attentive, but
when she found him even less so than she expected, unknown to herself,
her admiration increased. While she gave him but little encouragement
there, still if he had paid any attention to another girl it would have
hurt her. By nature she despised any deception, and to be called a flirt
was to her mind an insult. She would as soon have been called a liar. On
the other hand, any display of affection in public was equally
obnoxious. She was loving by nature, but any feeling of that kind toward
a young man was a sacred matter, that no one should be allowed to
suspect, or at least inspect. This may be an old-fashioned peculiarity,
yet it was a part of her nature. It may seem strange, but "Charlie," as
she always called her admirer, had early discovered this and had always
been governed by it.

It is not easy to give an accurate pen-picture of a young and pretty
girl who is bright, vivacious, piquant, tender, sweet and lovable. One
might as well try to describe the twinkle of a star or the rainbow flash
of a diamond. To picture the growth of love in such a girl's heart is
like describing the shades of color in a rose, or the expression of
affection in the eyes of a dog, and equally impossible.

Liddy's home was one of the substantial, old-time kind, with tall
pillars in front, a double piazza and wide hall, where stood an ancient
clock of solemn tick. There were open fireplaces in parlor and
sitting-room, and the wide dooryard was divided by a graveled and
flower-bordered walk, where in summer bloomed syringas, sweet williams,
peonies and phlox. On either side of t