the mulberry leaves. The triumphant happiness in
his face was a rather breathless thing to see. It made you want to
hear a great orchestra burst into the Hallelujah Chorus.

The Aunt watched the Boy, and wondered whether she must tell him about
the Professor, before the seventh day; and what he would say, when she
did tell him; and how Jericho would feel when the army of Israel, with
silent trumpets and banners drooping, marched disconsolate away,
leaving its walls still standing; its gates still barred. Poor walls,
supposed to be so mighty! Already they were trembling. If the Boy had
not been so chivalrously obedient, he could have broken into the
citadel, five minutes ago. Did he know? .... She looked at his
radiant face.... Yes; he knew. There were not many things the Boy did
not know. She must not allow the seven days, even though she could
absolutely trust his obedience and his chivalry. She must tell him the
rest of the story, and send him away to-day. Poor invading army, shorn
of its glad triumph! Poor Jericho, left desolate! It was decidedly
unusual to be compared to Jericho, and Diana of the Ephesians, and Joan
of Arc, all in the same conversation; and it was rather funny to enjoy
it. But then most things which happened by reason of the Boy _were_
funny and unusual. He would always come marching 'as an army with
banners.' The Professor would drive up to Jericho in a fly, and knock
a decorous rat-tat on the gate. Would the walls tremble at that knock?
Alas, alas! They had never trembled yet. Would they ever tremble
again, save for the march-past of the Boy? Would the gates ever really
fly open, except to the horn-blast of little Boy Blue? ... The Aunt
dared not think any longer. She felt she must take refuge in immediate
action.

"Boy dear," she said, in her most maternal voice, "come down from the
clouds, and listen to me. I want to tell you the rest of the story of
my Little Boy Blue."

He sprang up, and came and sat on the grass at her feet. All the Boy's
movements were so bewilderingly sudden. They were over and done,
before you had time to consider whether or no you intended to allow
them. But this new move was quite satisfactory. He looked less big
and manly, down on the grass; and she _really_ felt maternal, with his
curly head so close to her knee. She even ventured to put out a cool
motherly hand and smooth the hair back from his forehead, as she began
to speak. She had