t her neck
and shoulders so that it touched my face, now and then, as we walked!
Somehow the rustle of her dress started a strange vibration in my
spirit. I put my arm around her waist and she put her arm around mine as
we ran along. A curious feeling came over me. I stopped and loosed my
arm.

"It's very warm!" I said as I picked a stalk of fire-weed.

What was there about the girl which so thrilled me with happiness?

She turned away and felt the ribbon by which her hair was gathered at
the back of her head.

I wanted to kiss her as I had done years before, but I was afraid.

She turned suddenly and said to me:

"A penny for your thoughts."

"You won't laugh at me?"

"No."

"I was thinking how beautiful you are and how homely I am."

"You are not homely. I like your eyes and your teeth are as white and
even as they can be and you are a big, brave boy, too."

Oh, the vanity of youth! I had never been so happy as then.

"I don't believe I'm brave," I said, blushing as we walked along beside
the wheat-fields that were just turning yellow. "I was terribly scared
that night--honest I was!"

"But you didn't run away."

"I didn't think of it or I guess I would have."

After a moment of silence I ventured:

"I guess you've never fallen in love."

"Yes, I have."

"Who with?"

"I don't think I dare tell you," she answered, slowly, looking down as
she walked.

"I'll tell you who I love if you wish," I said.

"Who?"

"You." I whispered the word and was afraid she would laugh at me, but
she didn't. She stopped and looked very serious and asked:

"What makes you think you love me?"

"Well, when you go away I shall think an' think about you an' feel as I
do when the leaves an' the flowers are all gone an' I know it's going to
be winter, an' I guess next Sunday Shep an' I will go down to the brook
an' come back through the meadow, an' I'll kind o' think it all
over--what you said an' what I said an' how warm the sun shone an' how
purty the wheat looked, an' I guess I'll hear that little bird singing."

We stopped and listened to the song of a bird--I do not remember what
bird it was--and then she whispered:

"Will you love me always and forever?"

"Yes," I answered in the careless way of youth.

She stopped and looked into my eyes and I looked into hers.

"May I kiss you?" I asked, and afraid, with cheeks burning.

She turned away and answered: "I guess you can if you want to."

Now I seem to