AS GROWING IMPATIENT."]

I was a double-dyed traitor. After conniving at my captive's escape I
deserted.

"Can it indeed be true?" I pondered. "Have I only to drain that phial of
ink in order to become Georgette's husband some day? She said so, and
she must know!"

I went to look for the ink-bottle, which the child had carried
back into the schoolroom. There I stood contemplating the black,
uninviting-looking liquid.

Not for a single moment did I dream of swallowing the loathsome stuff in
the girl's presence. It did not occur to me that she ought to be a
witness of my sacrifice, or that she had demanded it as a proof of love.
My idea was rather that the beverage was a sort of love-philtre, such as
I had read of in my book of fairy tales. She had said: "Whoever will
drink the ink shall be my husband."

Faugh! the bottle was full to overflowing. How nasty it looked! Never
mind! So much the better! I should have liked it to have been nastier
still.

I closed my eyes, and raised the bottle to my lips.

"What are you about, you dirty little thing?" exclaimed a voice from
behind me, at the same instant that I received a smart blow upon my
uplifted arm.

Covered with confusion, I turned, and beheld Mademoiselle Ermance, who
had surprised me in my singular occupation.

"What is the meaning of this nonsense?" said she, with unwonted
severity.

I had no time to explain. Just at that moment my schoolfellows came
trooping in. Georgette seeing me standing there, ink-stained and
disgraced, and already--the coquette!--forgetful of her promise,
exclaimed, with a face of disgust:--

"Oh, the dirty boy! The nasty, dirty boy!"

[Illustration: "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS NONSENSE?"]

Everything, however, has its bright side. Mademoiselle Ermance's tap and
my own start of surprise, had jerked the ink-bottle from my grasp; my
yellow jacket was literally flooded! I was rid of it at last!

It was to Georgette that I owed this happy deliverance. I thank her for
it to-day! What has become, I wonder, of that lovely child? Does she
ever think now of those old times? How often have I dreamed of her! I
have forgiven her for the tears which she caused me to shed. Her
charming face dwells always in my mind as a pure ray from the bygone
light of youth. I am not her husband, and probably never shall be. I am
resigned to my fate, which I richly deserve, because--

_I did not drink the ink!_

_The Queer Side of Things._

OL