consciously to pull the dainty blossoms to pieces, as she sat on
the clay bank hard by and talked with him. "Is that how you treat
my poor flowers?" Walter asked, looking askance at her.

Dolly glanced down, and drew back suddenly. "Oh, poor little
things!" she cried, with a quick droop of her long lashes. "I
wasn't thinking what I did." And she darted a shy glance at him.
"If I'd remembered they were forget-me-nots, I don't think I could
have done it."

She looked so sweet and pure in her budding innocence, like a
half-blown water-lily, that the young man, already more than
two-thirds in love, was instantly captivated. "Because they were
forget-me-nots, or because they were MINE, Miss Barton?" he asked
softly, all timorousness.

"Perhaps a little of both," the girl answered, gazing down, and
blushing at each word a still deeper crimson.

The blush showed sweet on that translucent skin. Walter turned to
her with a sudden impulse. "And what are you going to do with them
NOW?" he enquired, holding his breath for joy and half-suppressed
eagerness.

Dolly hesitated a moment with genuine modesty. Then her liking for
the well-knit young man overcame her. With a frightened smile her
hand stole to her bodice; she fixed them in her bosom. "Will that
do?" she asked timidly.

"Yes, that WILL do," the young man answered, bending forward and
seizing her soft fingers in his own. "That will do very well.
And, Miss Barton--Dolores--I take it as a sign you don't wholly
dislike me."

"I like you very much," Dolly answered in a low voice, pulling a
rock-rose from a cleft and tearing it nervously to pieces.

"Do you LOVE me, Dolly?" the young man insisted.

Dolly turned her glance to him tenderly, then withdrew it in haste.
"I think I MIGHT, in time," she answered very slowly.

"Then you will be mine, mine, mine?" Walter cried in an ecstasy.

Dolly bent her pretty head in reluctant assent, with a torrent of
inner joy. The sun flashed in her chestnut hair. The triumph of
that moment was to her inexpressible.

But as for Walter Brydges, he seized the blushing face boldly in
his two brown hands, and imprinted upon it at once three respectful
kisses. Then he drew back, half-terrified at his own temerity.

XX.

From that day forth it was understood at Upcombe that Dolly Barton
was informally engaged to Walter Brydges. Their betrothal would be
announced in the "Morning Post"--"We learn that a marriage has