m, and he was a very proud fellow. When he went
up-stairs to his own room he continued wondering whether it was
possible that Maria, remembering their childish love-affair, could
have really dreamed that he had called that evening with serious
intentions, and he grew more and more indignant at the idea. Then the
memory of that soft, hardly returned kiss which he had given Lily
came to him, and now he did not feel vexed with himself because of
it. He was quite certain that Lily was too gentle and timid to think
for a minute that he meant anything more than their old childish
friendship. The memory of the kiss became very pleasant to him, and
he seemed to feel Lily's lips upon his own like a living flower which
thrilled the heart. The next morning, when he took the trolley-car in
front of his house, Maria was just passing on her way to school. She
was wading rather wearily, yet still sturdily, through the snow. It
had cleared during the night, and there were several inches of
drifted snow in places, although some portions of the road were as
bare as if swept by a broom of the winds.

Maria, tramping through the snow, which was deep just there, merely
glanced at George Ramsey, and said good-morning. She had plenty of
time, if she had chosen to do so, to express her regrets at not
seeing him the evening before, for the car had not yet reached him.
But she said nothing except good-morning, and George responded rather
curtly, raising his hat, and stepping forward towards the car. He
felt it to be unmistakable that Maria wished him to understand that
she did not care for his particular acquaintance, and the sting which
his mother had suggested the evening before, that she must consider
that his attentions were significant, or she would not take so much
trouble to repulse them, came over him again. He boarded the car,
which was late, and moving sluggishly through the snow. It came to a
full stop in front of the Merrill house, and George saw Lily's head
behind a stand of ferns in one of the front windows. He raised his
hat, and she bowed, and he could see her blush even at that distance.
He thought again, comfortably, that Lily, remembering their childish
caresses, could attach no importance to what had happened the night
before, and yet a thrill of tenderness and pleasure shot through him,
and he seemed to feel again the flower-like touch of her lips. It was
a solace for any man, after receiving such an unmistakable rebuff as