'

There was an appearance of openness, trustfulness, unsuspecting
generosity, in his words and manner, that won the poor girl over; and
not only won her over, but again caused her to feel as though she had
been influenced by the opposite qualities, with vanity at their head.

'I will not hesitate any longer, Mr Wrayburn. I hope you will not
think the worse of me for having hesitated at all. For myself and for
Jenny--you let me answer for you, Jenny dear?'

The little creature had been leaning back, attentive, with her elbows
resting on the elbows of her chair, and her chin upon her hands. Without
changing her attitude, she answered, 'Yes!' so suddenly that it rather
seemed as if she had chopped the monosyllable than spoken it.

'For myself and for Jenny, I thankfully accept your kind offer.'

'Agreed! Dismissed!' said Eugene, giving Lizzie his hand before lightly
waving it, as if he waved the whole subject away. 'I hope it may not be
often that so much is made of so little!'

Then he fell to talking playfully with Jenny Wren. 'I think of setting
up a doll, Miss Jenny,' he said.

'You had better not,' replied the dressmaker.

'Why not?'

'You are sure to break it. All you children do.'

'But that makes good for trade, you know, Miss Wren,' returned Eugene.
'Much as people's breaking promises and contracts and bargains of all
sorts, makes good for MY trade.'

'I don't know about that,' Miss Wren retorted; 'but you had better by
half set up a pen-wiper, and turn industrious, and use it.'

'Why, if we were all as industrious as you, little Busy-Body, we should
begin to work as soon as we could crawl, and there would be a bad
thing!'

'Do you mean,' returned the little creature, with a flush suffusing her
face, 'bad for your backs and your legs?'

'No, no, no,' said Eugene; shocked--to do him justice--at the thought of
trifling with her infirmity. 'Bad for business, bad for business. If we
all set to work as soon as we could use our hands, it would be all over
with the dolls' dressmakers.'

'There's something in that,' replied Miss Wren; 'you have a sort of an
idea in your noddle sometimes.' Then, in a changed tone; 'Talking of
ideas, my Lizzie,' they were sitting side by side as they had sat at
first, 'I wonder how it happens that when I am work, work, working here,
all alone in the summer-time, I smell flowers.'

'As a commonplace individual, I should say,' Eugene suggested
languidly--for he was growin