Missy was just
learning the intricacies of peonies, and adored to squeeze the rosy
tissue-paper over the head of a hat-pin and observe the amazing result.

"Run up to my room, dear," said grandma. "You'll find the box on the
closet shelf."

Missy knew the "paper-flower box." It was a big hat-box, appropriately
covered with pink-posied paper--a quaintly beautiful box.

In the house, passing the parlour door, she tip-toed, scarcely knowing
why. There was now utter silence in the parlour--why were they so still?
Perhaps they had gone out somewhere. Without any definite plan, but
still tip-toeing in the manner she and grandma had approached to
overhear the law-suit, she moved toward the partly-closed door. Through
the crevice they were out of vision, but she could hear a subdued
murmur--they were in there after all! Missy, too interested to be really
conscious of her act, strained her ears.

Polly Currier murmured:

"Why, what do you mean?--what are you doing?"

Pete murmured:

"What a question!--I'm trying to kiss you."

"Let me go!--you're mussing my dress! You can't kiss me--let me go!"

Pete murmured:

"Not till you let me kiss you!"

Polly Currier murmured:

"I suppose that's the way you talk to all the girls!--I know you college
men!"

Pete murmured, a whole world of reproach in one word:

"Polly."

They became silent--a long silence. Missy stood petrified behind
the door; her breathing ceased but her heart beat quickly. Here was
Romance--not the made-up kind of Romance you surreptitiously read in
mother's magazines, but real Romance! And she--Missy--knew them both!
And they were just the other side of the door!

Too thrilled to reflect upon the nature of her deed, scarcely conscious
of herself as a being at all, Missy craned her neck and peered around
the door. They were sitting close together on the divan. Pete's arm was
about Polly Currier's shoulder. And he was kissing her! Curious, that!
Hadn't she just heard Polly tell him that he couldn't?... Oh, beautiful!

She started noiselessly to withdraw, but her foot struck the conch shell
which served as a door-stop. At the noise two startled pairs of eyes
were upon her immediately; and Pete, leaping up, advanced upon her with
a fierce whisper:

"You little spy-eye!--What're you up to? You little spy-eye!"

A swift wave of shame engulfed Missy.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she cried in a stricken voice. "I didn't mean to,
Pete--I--"

He interrupted her