ething of the
insolence of great beauty in it. There was nothing of that in Miss
Avery's face now--nothing but sweetness and tenderness, and a motherly
yearning to which every fibre of Jims' small being responded. How they
loved each other, those two! And how they understood each other! To
_love_ is easy, and therefore common; but to _understand_--how rare
that is! And oh! such good times as they had! They made taffy. Jims
had always longed to make taffy, but Aunt Augusta's immaculate kitchen
and saucepans might not be so desecrated. They read fairy tales
together. Mr. Burroughs had disapproved of fairy tales. They blew
soap-bubbles out on the lawn and let them float away over the garden
and the orchard like fairy balloons. They had glorious afternoon teas
under the beech tree. They made ice cream themselves. Jims even slid
down the bannisters when he wanted to. And he could try out a slang
word or two occasionally without anybody dying of horror. Miss Avery
did not seem to mind it a bit.

At first Miss Avery always wore dark sombre dresses. But one day Jims
found her in a pretty gown of pale primrose silk. It was very old and
old-fashioned, but Jims did not know that. He capered round her in
delight.

"You like me better in this?" she asked, wistfully.

"I like you just as well, no matter what you wear," said Jims, "but
that dress is awfully pretty."

"Would you like me to wear bright colors, Jims?"

"You bet I would," said Jims emphatically.

After that she always wore them--pink and primrose and blue and white;
and she let Jims wreathe flowers in her splendid hair. He had quite a
knack of it. She never wore any jewelry except, always, a little gold
ring with a design of two clasped hands.

"A friend gave that to me long ago when we were boy and girl together
at school," she told Jims once. "I never take it off, night or day.
When I die it is to be buried with me."

"You mustn't die till I do," said Jims in dismay.

"Oh, Jims, if we could only _live_ together nothing else would
matter," she said hungrily. "Jims--Jims--I see so little of you
really--and some day soon you'll be going to school--and I'll lose
you."

"I've got to think of some way to prevent it," cried Jims. "I won't
have it. I won't--I won't."

But his heart sank notwithstanding.

One day Jims slipped from the blue room, down the pine and across the
lawn with a tear-stained face.

"Aunt Augusta is going to kill my gobbler," he sobbed in