boy shyly.

"I'm as good a man as he is any day, whoever I am," said the stranger,
with humorous defiance, "and can lick him out of his boots, whoever HE
is. That ought to satisfy you. But if you want my certificate, here's
your own letter, old man," he said, producing Leonidas's last scrawl
from his pocket.

"And HERS?" said the boy cautiously.

The stranger's face changed a little. "And HERS," he repeated gravely,
showing a little pink note which Leonidas recognized as one of Mrs.
Burroughs's inclosures. The boy was silent until they reached the
laurels, where the stranger tethered his horse and then threw himself
in an easy attitude beneath the tree, with the back of his head upon his
clasped hands. Leonidas could see his curved brown mustaches and silky
lashes that were almost as long, and thought him the handsomest man he
had ever beheld.

"Well, Leon," said the stranger, stretching himself out comfortably and
pulling the boy down beside him, "how are things going on the Casket?
All serene, eh?"

The inquiry so dismally recalled Leonidas's late feelings that his face
clouded, and he involuntarily sighed. The stranger instantly shifted his
head and gazed curiously at him. Then he took the boy's sunburnt hand in
his own, and held it a moment. "Well, go on," he said.

"Well, Mr.--Mr.--I can't go on--I won't!" said Leonidas, with a sudden
fit of obstinacy. "I don't know what to call you."

"Call me 'Jack'--'Jack Hamlin' when you're not in a hurry. Ever heard of
me before?" he added, suddenly turning his head towards Leonidas.

The boy shook his head. "No."

Mr. Jack Hamlin lifted his lashes in affected expostulation to the
skies. "And this is Fame!" he murmured audibly.

But this Leonidas did not comprehend. Nor could he understand why the
stranger, who clearly must have come to see HER, should not ask about
her, should not rush to seek her, but should lie back there all the
while so contentedly on the grass. HE wouldn't. He half resented it, and
then it occurred to him that this fine gentleman was like himself--shy.
Who could help being so before such an angel? HE would help him on.

And so, shyly at first, but bit by bit emboldened by a word or two from
Jack, he began to talk of her--of her beauty--of her kindness--of his
own unworthiness--of what she had said and done--until, finding in this
gracious stranger the vent his pent-up feelings so long had sought, he
sang then and there the little idyl of hi