"I have business with your father which will bring me here again, perhaps this fall, in October, certainly, in the spring. What shall I bring you when I come again, Alice? You've been a kind hostess, and I owe you many happy hours. I should like to make you some trifling return."
She looked up in his face sadly, thinking she should like to ask him to remember her, but she dared not trust herself.
"If you will select some books—such as you think I ought to study, my father will buy them for me."
"Don't you love jewelry and such pretty trifles as other girls seek after?"
"I really don't know; I've no doubt I could cultivate such a liking," she replied, with some of her native archness.
"I wouldn't try very hard—you're better without," he said, pressing a light kiss on her forehead; and the two went slowly home, walking more silently than was their wont.
Pallas saw them, as they came up through the garden, and gave them a scrutinizing look which did not seem to be satisfactory.
"Dat chile's troubles jes' began," she murmured to herself. "Ef dese yer ole arms could hide her away from ebery sorrow, Pallas would be happy. But dey can't. Things happen as sure as the worl'; and girls will be girls—it's in em; jes' as sartin as it's in eggs to be chickens, and acorns to be oaks. Hi! hi!"