y
Harriette in the third-grade valentine box, but Louise need never know
the secret of its authorship. And it expressed his feelings with such a
degree of nicety!

He scrawled a huge, concluding "John," folded the paper complacently,
and waved one hand to attract Miss Brown's attention.

"Please, may I go over to the school store and buy a copy book?"

"Are your lessons prepared for this afternoon?"

"Yes'm."

Consent was given. John rose, with the compact paper hidden in his right
hand, and sauntered carelessly down the aisle. At his old desk, he
paused with a fleeting glace at Louise as he dropped the note, and
walked on into the hall. There he stopped to peer into the room through
the half-closed door.

Louise covered the note with one hand and drew it toward her slowly and
with infinite caution. He watched her face breathlessly. Curiosity was
succeeded by surprise and then by anger. A little toss of her curls, a
glance at teacher, and she half turned toward the door. He could see
that her face was scarlet. What was she going to do?

Horror of horrors, she stuck out her tongue at him!

The ways of girls were beyond his comprehension. There was no cause for
offense in that note. He loved her. Why should she object to being told
about it?

He made his way moodily down the broad flight of stairs leading to the
basement. There, in the big, dimly lighted, cement-floored playroom,
where the children held forth on rainy days, he met a boy from another
room, who was likewise in no hurry to return. They hailed each other in
subdued tones.

"Been down long?"

"Oh, our teacher doesn't get mad unless you're gone half an hour. Want
to play marbles?"

John assented joyously. His friend chalked an irregular circle on the
floor, and presently the room resounded with shouts of "H'ist," and "No
fair dribblin'" until the grizzled school janitor sent them flying to
their rooms under threat of a visit to the principal's office.

At the doorway, he paused to summon his courage, for time had flown all
too rapidly in the basement. Louise showed not a sign of recognition as
he passed. Miss Brown broke the oppressive silence.

"Where's the copy book, John?"

His lower lip dropped in consternation. His excuse for leaving had been
completely forgotten. "A quarter of an hour after school" was the
sentence for the offense, and he opened his geography with a feeling of
thankfulness that it had not been more.

All about the br