feels better now," she said presently and added: "You might
tell me a little more if you want to."

"I love you even when you have ceased to be beautiful," I said with the
ardor of the young.

"That is grand! You know old age will sting us by and by, Bart," she
answered with a sigh and in a tone of womanly wisdom.

We were nearing the village. She wiped the mud from her prodigious nose
and I wet her handkerchief in a pool of water and helped her to wash it.
Soon we saw two men approaching us in the road. In a moment I observed
that one was Mr. Horace Dunkelberg; the other a stranger and a
remarkably handsome young man he was, about twenty-two years of age and
dressed in the height of fashion. I remember so well his tall, athletic
figure, his gray eyes, his small dark mustache and his admirable
manners. Both were appalled at the look of Sally.

"Why, girl, what has happened to you?" her father asked.

Then I saw what a playful soul was Sally's. The girl was a born actress.

"Been riding in the country," said she. "Is this Mr. Latour?"

"This is Mr. Latour, Sally," said her father.

They shook hands.

"I am glad to see you," said the stranger.

"They say I am worth seeing," said Sally. "This is my friend, Mr.
Baynes. When you are tired of seeing me, look at him."

I shook the hand he offered me.

"Of course, we can't all be good looking," Sally remarked with a sigh,
as if her misfortune were permanent.

Mr. Horace Dunkelberg and I laughed heartily--for I had told him in a
whisper what had happened to Sally--while Mr. Latour looked a little
embarrassed.

"My face is not beautiful, but they say that I have a good heart," Sally
assured the stranger.

They started on. I excused myself and took a trail through the woods to
another road. Just there, with Sally waving her hand to me as I stood
for a moment in the edge of the woods, the curtain falls on this highly
romantic period of my life.

Uncle Peabody came for me that evening. It was about the middle of the
next week that I received this letter from Sally:

"DEAR BART--Mr. Latour gave up and drove to Potsdam in the evening.
Said he had to meet Mr. Parish. I think that he had seen enough of
me. I began to hope he would stay--he was so good looking, but
mother is very glad that he went, and so am I, for our minister
told us that he is one of the wickedest young men in the state. He
is very rich and very bad, they say. I wond