ious of a
bicycle; and as the girl swept rapidly on, it seemed as if she were
skimming over the earth without support. At the foot of the marble steps
the girl stopped and seemed to fall to the ground; but she had not
fallen: she had only stepped lightly from the machine, which she leaned
against a post, and then walked rapidly toward the place where the sweet
peas grew.

"Miss Amanda greatly admired this girl. She was dressed in an extremely
pretty fashion, with a straw hat and short skirts, something like the
peasants in southern Europe. She began to pick the sweet-pea blossoms,
and soon had a large bunch of them. Now steps were heard coming round
the house, and the girl, turning her head, called out: 'Oh, grandpa,
wait a minute. I am picking these flowers for you.' From around one end
of the house, which was a large one, Miss Amanda saw approaching an
elderly gentleman who was small, with short gray hair and a round, ruddy
face. He walked briskly, and with a light switch, which he carried in
his hand, he made strokes at the heads of a few fluffy dandelions which
appeared here and there; but he never hit any of them.

"Instantly Miss Amanda knew him: it was her nephew John--the same boy
who had broken the sun-dial! No matter what his age might happen to be,
he had the same bright eyes, and the same habit of striking at things
without hitting them. Yes, it was John. There could be no possible
mistake about it. It was that harum-scarum young scapegrace John. If
Miss Amanda had had a heart, it would have gone out to that dear old
boy; if she had had eyes they would have been filled with tears of
affection as she gazed on him. Of all her family he had been most dear
to her, although, as he had often told her, there was no one in the
world who found so much fault with him.

"The old gentleman sat down on a rustic seat beneath a walnut-tree, and
his granddaughter came running to him, filling the air with the odor of
sweet peas. She seated herself at the other end of the bench, and let
the flowers drop into her lap. 'Grandpa,' said she, 'these are for you,
but I am only going to give you one of them now for your buttonhole. The
rest I will put in a vase in your study. But I wanted you to stop here
anyway, for I have something to tell you.'

"'Tell on,' said he, when the girl had put a spray bearing three
blossoms into his buttonhole. 'Is it anything you want me to do this
afternoon?'

"'It isn't anything I want you to