Louis darted off to search the tree, and Gipsy, stooping down, said, rather impatiently:
"Now, Celeste, don't be such a little goose! What harm is it to shoot a bird?—everybody does it."
"I don't think it's right; it's so cruel. Please don't do it any more," said Celeste, pleadingly.
"Can't promise, dear? I must do something to keep me out of mischief. But here comes Louis. Well, is it dead?"
"No," said Louis, "but badly wounded. However, I'll take care of it; and if it recovers, Celeste, you shall have it for a pet."
"Oh, thank you! you're so good," said Celeste, giving him such a radiant look of gratitude that it quite overcame the gravity of Master Rivers, who fell back, roaring with laughter.
Celeste and Gipsy stood a little apart, conversing, and the boys sat watching them.
"I say, Louis, what do you think of her?" said Archie, pointing to Celeste.
"I think she is perfectly bewitching—the loveliest creature I ever beheld," replied Louis, regarding her with the eye of an artist. "She reminds me of a lily—a dove, so fair, and white, and gentle."
"And Gipsy, what does she remind you of?"