"Don't you like to have me talk to you?"
"Oh yes!"
There was a heartiness in the tone which gave great emphasis to the words. The child, after shaking her curls and laughing gaily, asked, "Why don't you talk to me, then?"
Harrison, for that was the boy's name, paused. He did not know exactly how to put his thoughts into words; but presently he said, "I am a poor boy, and perhaps your mother wouldn't like it."
"I'll ask her, then;" and away tripped the miss, through the long hall, up stairs to her mother's room. "O mamma! there's a boy down stairs; I know him very well, because I've seen him every day. He always looks so pleasant, and whistles such pretty tunes, and I want to talk to him; but he is afraid you wouldn't like it."
"Did he say so?" inquired the lady, laughing at the idea.
"Yes, mamma."
"What is he doing?"
"Shelling peas. His face is very clean, mamma; and I do want to talk to him so much," urged the pleading voice.
"That is really a great recommendation; and as he is so modest, I don't think there can be any harm in your talking with him."