d," continued the cavalier; "I want to see Redbud."

"Well, sir,--go down, and Reddy may come and see you," the voice
replied; "as long as you stand there, you will not lay eyes on her--if
you stay a week, or a year."

At this dreadful threat, Verty retreated from the door. The idea of
not seeing Redbud for a year was horrible.

"Will you come down, Redbud, if I go?" he asked.

Voices heard in debate.

"Say?" said Verty.

After a pause, the voice which had before spoken, said:

"Yes; go down and wait ten minutes."

Verty heaved a sigh, and slowly descended to the hall again. As he
disappeared, the door opened, and the face of Fanny was seen carefully
watching the enemy's retreat. Then the young girl turned to Redbud,
and, clapping her hands, cried:

"Did you ever!--what an impudent fellow! But you promised, Reddy!
Come, let me fix your hair!"

Redbud sighed, and assented.

CHAPTER XXI.

IN WHICH REDBUD SUPPRESSES HER FEELINGS AND BEHAVES WITH DECORUM.

In ten minutes, as she promised, Fanny descended with Redbud,--her arm
laced around the slender waist of that young lady, as is the wont
with damsels,--and ready to give battle to our friend Verty, upon any
additional provocation, with even greater zest than before.

Redbud presented a singular contrast to her companion. Fanny, smiling,
and full of glee, seemed only to have become merrier and brighter
for her "cry"--like an April landscape after a rain. Redbud, on the
contrary, was still sad, and oppressed from the events of the morning;
and, indeed, could scarcely return Verty's greeting without emotion.

Resplendent in his elegant plum-colored coat--with stockings, long
embroidered waistcoat, and scarlet ribbon tied around his powdered
hair, Verty came forward to meet his innamorata, as joyous and
careless as ever, and, figuratively speaking, with open arms.

What was his surprise to find that no smile replied to his own.
Redbud's face was calm--almost cold; she repelled him even when he
held out his hand, and only gave him the tips of her fingers, which,
for any warmth or motion in them, might have been wood or marble.

Poor Verty drew back, and colored. Redbud change toward him!--no
longer care for him! What could this frigid manner with which she
met him, mean;--why this cool and distant bow, in reply to his
enthusiastic greeting?

Poor Verty sat down disconsolately, gazing at Redbud. He could not
understand. Then his glance questioned