'"That is a good reason," said I, "I confess. I like girls myself better than I do boys. But how came you to know Malleville?"
'"Oh, I have seen her a great many times," said she, "peeping into her windows by moonlight, when she was asleep."
'"Well," said I, "I will tell Malleville about you, and she will want to come and see you."
'"No," said Agnes, "she must not come and see me; but she may write me a letter."
'"But she is not old enough to write letters," said I.
'"Then," said she, "she must tell you what to write, and you must write it for her."'
Beechnut observed that, though Phonny and Malleville neither of them spoke, they were both extremely interested, and somewhat excited by the story, and that he was far from accomplishing the object which he had in view at first in telling a story, namely, lulling Malleville to sleep. He therefore said to Malleville that, though he had a great deal more to tell her about Agnes, he thought it would be better not to tell her any more then; but that he would sing Agnes's song to her, to the same tune that Agnes herself sung it. He would sing it several times, he said, and she might listen, laying her head upon his shoulder.
Malleville said that she should like very much to hear Beechnut sing the song, but that after he had sung it, she hoped he would tell her a little more about Agnes that night. She liked to hear about her, she said, very much indeed.
So Beechnut changed Malleville's position, placing her in such a manner that her head reclined upon his shoulder.
'Shut your eyes now,' said he, 'and form in your mind a picture of the little dell and fountain, with the frost-work beaming in the moonlight, and Agnes dancing on the ice while I sing.'