iations, became the Chant of Mystery.
How interesting, how tremendously, ineffably interesting was Life! She
slept.

CHAPTER IV. MISSY TACKLES ROMANCE

Melissa was out in the summerhouse, reading; now and then lifting her
eyes from the big book on her lap to watch the baby at play. With a pail
of sand, a broken lead-pencil and several bits of twig, the baby had
concocted an engrossing game. Melissa smiled indulgently at his absurd
absorption; while the baby, looking up, smiled back as one who would
say: "What a stupid game reading is to waste your time with!"

For the standpoint of three-years-old is quite different from that of
fourteen-going-on-fifteen. Missy now felt almost grown-up; it had been
eons since SHE was a baby, and three; even thirteen lay back across
a chasm so wide her thoughts rarely tried to bridge it. Besides, her
thoughts were kept too busy with the present. Every day the world was
presenting itself as a more bewitching place. Cherryvale had always been
a thrilling place to live in; but this was the summer which, surely,
would ever stand out in italics in her mind. For, this summer, she had
come really to know Romance.

Her more intimate acquaintance with this enchanting phenomenon had begun
in May, the last month of school, when she learned that Miss Smith, her
Algebra teacher, received a letter every day from an army officer. An
army officer!--and a letter every day! And she knew Miss Smith very
well, indeed! Ecstasy! Miss Smith, who looked too pretty to know so much
about Algebra, made an adorable heroine of Romance.

But she was not more adorable-looking than Aunt Isabel. Aunt Isabel
was Uncle Charlie's wife, and lived in Pleasanton; Missy was going to
Pleasanton in just three days, now, and every time she thought of
the visit, she felt delicious little tremors of anticipation. What an
experience that would be! For father and mother and grandpa and grandma
and all the other family grown-ups admitted that Uncle Charlie's
marriage to Aunt Isabel was romantic. Uncle Charlie had been
forty-three--very, very old, even older than father--and a "confirmed
bachelor" when, a year ago last summer, he had married Aunt Isabel. Aunt
Isabel was much younger, only twenty; that was what made the marriage
romantic.

Like Miss Smith, Aunt Isabel had big violet eyes and curly golden hair.
Most heroines seemed to be like that. The reflection saddened Missy.
Her own eyes were grey instead of violet, he