"Oh, is that all?" she asked, laughing softly.
"And by smiling once in a while," I suggested.
"Who shall smile? You or I?" she queried, glancing slyly up to me.
"Oh, you, by all means," I returned. "There is no beauty in my smile, while yours—"
"Come, come, Baron Ned," she interrupted, looking up to me pleadingly. "My smiles are honest, and that is all that is needful in my case. So don't try to make me believe they are anything more. Don't make a fool of me by flattery."
"Don't you like flattery, Betty?" I asked.
"Yes, of course I do," she returned, smiling and dimpling exquisitely. "But it is not good for me. You know I might grow to believing it and you."
"But it is true, Betty, and you may believe me," I answered, very earnestly, taking her hand from her lap.
She permitted me to hold her hand for a moment, and said:—
"I am so desirous of keeping my regard for you and of holding your regard for me that I am tempted to tell you I fear it will all change if I find you inclined to doubt that I am an honest girl."