"Do you?" said Grace.
"Yes, I do. He has something in him, and I like him all the better for having to fish it out."
"Well, I hope you will make him like you," said Grace, unconsciously; and then she stopped, and looked a little ashamed.
James was too well bred to see this, or look as if Grace meant any more than she said—a kind of breeding not always attendant on more fashionable polish—so he only answered,—
"I think I shall, Grace, though I doubt whether I can get him to own it."
"He is the kindest man that ever was," said Grace; "and he always acts as if he was ashamed of it."
James turned a little away, and looked at the bright evening sky, which was glowing like a calm, golden sea; and over it was the silver new moon, with one little star to hold the candle for her. He shook some bright drops off from a rosebush near by, and watched to see them shine as they fell, while Grace stood very quietly waiting for him to speak again.
"Grace," said he, at last, "I am going to college this fall."
"So you told me yesterday," said Grace.
James stooped down over Grace's geranium, and began to busy himself with pulling off all the dead leaves, remarking in the mean while,—