e to
him, and said--

"Mr. Burr, we're getting up a game of croquet. Won't you play?"

"If I can be on your side," he answered, civilly.

He knew the girl's liking for him, and was always kind to her. At his
answer her face flushed with pleasure, and she replied shyly--

"If you'd like to, you may."

Henry was not in the least a conceited fellow, but it was impossible that
he should not understand the reason why Ida, who all the morning had
looked forlorn enough, was now the life of the croquet-ground, and full
of smiles and flushes. She was a good player, and had a corresponding
interest in beating, but her equanimity on the present occasion was not
in the least disturbed by the disgraceful defeat which Henry's
awkwardness and absence of mind entailed on their aide.

But her portion of sunshine for that day was brief enough, for Madeline
soon returned from her boat-ride, and Henry found an excuse for leaving
the game and joining her where she sat on the ground between the knees of
a gigantic oak sorting pond-lilies, which the girls were admiring. As he
came up, she did not appear to notice him. As soon as he had a chance
to speak without being overheard, he said, soberly--

"Tom ought to thank me for that boat-ride, I suppose."

"I don't know what you mean," she answered, with assumed carelessness.

"I mean that you went to punish me."

"You're sufficiently conceited," she replied. "Laura, come here; your
brother is teasing me."

"And do you think I want to be teased to?" replied that young lady,
pertly, as she walked off.

Madeline would have risen and left Henry, but she was too proud to let
him think that she was afraid of him.. Neither was she afraid, but she
was confused, and momentarily without her usual self-confidence. One
reason for her running off with Tom had been to get a chance to think. No
girl, however coolly her blood may flow, can be pressed to a man's
breast, wildly throbbing with love for her, and not experience some
agitation in consequence. Whatever may be the state of her sentiments,
there is a magnetism in such a contact which she cannot at once throw
off. That kiss had brought her relations with Henry to a crisis. It had
precipitated the necessity of some decision. She could no longer hold him
off, and play with him. By that bold dash he had gained a vantage-ground,
a certain masterful attitude which he had never held before. Yet, after
all, I am not sure that she was not just a li