e. Suffering had been
her familiar more than joy. He watched her earnestly, his heart deeply
moved. She led him into a swampy half-open space in the woods, stopped
and stepped aside. He uttered a cry of surprised delight.

A few decaying logs were scattered around, the grass grew in tufts long
and fine. Blue flags waved, clusters of cowslips nodded gold heads, but
the whole earth was purple with a thick blanket of violets nodding from
stems a foot in length. Elnora knelt and slipping her fingers between
the leaves and grasses to the roots, gathered a few violets and gave
them to Philip.

"Can your city greenhouses surpass them?" she asked.

He sat on a log to examine the blooms.

"They are superb!" he said. "I never saw such length of stem or such
rank leaves, while the flowers are the deepest blue, the truest violet
I ever saw growing wild. They are coloured exactly like the eyes of the
girl I am going to marry."

Elnora handed him several others to add to those he held. "She must have
wonderful eyes," she commented.

"No other blue eyes are quite so beautiful," he said. "In fact, she is
altogether lovely."

"Is it customary for a man to think the girl he is going to marry
lovely? I wonder if I should find her so."

"You would," said Philip. "No one ever fails to. She is tall as you,
very slender, but perfectly rounded; you know about her eyes; her hair
is black and wavy--while her complexion is clear and flushed with red."

"Why, she must be the most beautiful girl in the whole world!" she
cried.

"No, indeed!" he said. "She is not a particle better looking in her way
than you are in yours. She is a type of dark beauty, but you are equally
as perfect. She is unusual in her combination of black hair and violet
eyes, although every one thinks them black at a little distance. You
are quite as unusual with your fair face, black brows, and brown hair;
indeed, I know many people who would prefer your bright head to her dark
one. It's all a question of taste--and being engaged to the girl," he
added.

"That would be likely to prejudice one," laughed Elnora.

"Edith has a birthday soon; if these last will you let me have a box of
them to send her?"

"I will help gather and pack them for you, so they will carry nicely.
Does she hunt moths with you?"

Back went Philip Ammon's head in a gale of laughter.

"No!" he cried. "She says they are 'creepy.' She would go into a spasm
if she were compelled to touch tho