"It was too funny you didn't see me; and I so scared I was afraid to breathe. Good-bye, I hope you will have a good time with your picture."
"But you are not going to dismiss me, are you? Mayn't I take you home?"
"Yes, if you like; only you musn't stay long. I've got to do Rollin and Plutarch while I'm out here, and can't be bothered."
With difficulty repressing an explosion, the young man walked beside the woodland sprite, with his goods and chattels thrown across his shoulders, and found himself falling—yes, tumbling—headlong in love. Such an airy, fairy, exquisite piece of humanity it had never been his fortune to behold.
"You are too young to worry your brain with dry old fossils like Rollin and Plutarch," he said, with what gravity he could.
"I am a person of twenty," she affirmed with demure satisfaction, as she tripped along in a manner quite enchanting.
At the door of the farm-house a fair, motherly face smiled a welcome from the border of a spotless cap, then sobered a little at the sight of a stranger.
"This is Aunt Hepsy," simply said Daisy, "and you are—?" hesitating.
A flush not born of the sunshine mounted to his brow as with swift thought he saw the shoals ahead, and did not dare reveal his identity.