It was always Billy's habit to come and sit with me while I smoked my after-breakfast cigar, but the next morning did not see him enter my room till St. George's hands pointed to a quarter of nine.
“Well, Billy Boy Blue, come blow your horn; what haystack have you been under till this time of day? We shan't have a minute to look over our spelling together, and I know a boy is going in for promotion next week. Have you had your breakfast and taken care of Crab?”
“Yes, sir, but I didn't feel like getting up this morning.”
“Are you sick?”
“No-o-o—it isn't that; but you'll laugh at me if I tell you.”
“Indeed, I won't, Billy!”
“Well”—his voice dropped to a whisper and he stole close to my side—“I had such a nice dream about her just the last thing before the bell rang; and when I woke up I felt so queer—so kinder good and kinder bad—and I wanted to see her so much, that if I hadn't been a big boy, I believe I should have blubbered. I tried ever so much to go to sleep and see her again; but the more I tried the more I couldn't. After all, I had to get up without it, though I didn't want any breakfast, and only ate two buckwheat cakes, when I always eat six, you know, Uncle Teddy. Can you keep a secret?”
“Yes, dear, so you couldn't get it out of me if you were to shake me upside down like a savings-bank.”
“Oh, ain't you mean! That was when I was small I did that. I'll tell you the secret, though—that girl and I are going to get married. I mean to ask her the first chance I get. Oh, isn't she a smasher!”
“My dear Billy, shan't you wait a little while to see if you always like her as well as you do now? Then, too, you'll be older.”