the sincerity of others, and to
take looks and words at their real value. Dickens was her idol; and for
his sake she could have forgiven a greater offence than this. The
stranger's contrite countenance and respectful apology won her good-will
at once; and with a finer courtesy than any Aunt Pen would have taught,
she smilingly bowed her pardon, and, taking another book from her
basket, opened it, saying, pleasantly,--

"Here is the first volume, if you like it, Sir. I can recommend it as an
invaluable consolation for the discomforts of a summer day's journey,
and it is heartily at your service."

As much surprised as gratified, the gentleman accepted the book, and
retired behind it with the sudden discovery that wrong-doing has its
compensation in the pleasurable sensation of being forgiven. Stolen
delights are well known to be specially saccharine; and much as this
pardoned sinner loved books, it seemed to him that the interest of the
story flagged, and that the enjoyment of reading was much enhanced by
the proximity of a gray bonnet and a girlish profile. But Dickens soon
proved more powerful than Debby, and she was forgotten, till, pausing to
turn a leaf, the young man met her shy glance, as she asked, with the
pleased expression of a child who has shared an apple with a playmate,--

"Is it good?"

"Oh, very!"--and the man looked as honestly grateful for the book as the
boy would have done for the apple.

Only five words in the conversation, but Aunt Pen woke, as if the
watchful spirit of propriety had roused her to pluck her charge from the
precipice on which she stood.

"Dora, I'm astonished at you! Speaking to strangers in that free manner
is a most unladylike thing. How came you to forget what I have told you
over and over again about a proper reserve?"

The energetic whisper reached the gentleman's ear, and he expected to be
annihilated with a look when his offence was revealed; but he was spared
that ordeal, for the young voice answered, softly,--

"Don't faint, Aunt Pen; I only did as I'd be done by; for I had two
books, and the poor man looked so hungry for something to read that I
couldn't resist sharing my 'goodies.' He will see that I'm a countrified
little thing in spite of my fine feathers, and won't be shocked at my
want of rigidity and frigidity; so don't look dismal, and I'll be prim
and proper all the rest of the way,--if I don't forget it."

"I wonder who he is; may belong to some of our f