“In Illinois. My parents settled there twenty-three years ago, when they were first married, and I was born there, and I like it much better than New Hampshire.”
“Do you? And what part of Illinois are you from?”
“Lee County; and we live on the bank of a beautiful river called Rock River, which is full of black bass and pickerel, and in autumn ’tis covered with mallard and teal. Oh! I love Rock River.”
“Well, if your home is a more delightful spot than this it must be exquisite indeed.”
“I never saw a finer beech-tree than that one yonder,” put in Harry. Then turning to his betrothed and dropping his voice, “Let us go cut our names upon it, Kitty, to preserve the memory of this happy day.”
“Oh! do,” answered Kitty aloud. Then, taking Mabel’s hand, she added: “You must know, my dear, that he and I are just engaged. I spoke the sweet yes to him as we were strolling up the brook—this never-to-be-forgotten brook.”
“Engaged—going to be married,” said Mabel in a musing tone and fixing her dark eyes upon Harry, who wondered what she was thinking of while she watched him so wistfully. Then presently Mabel went on:
“Yes, do cut your names on the tree, for you must never forget this day—never; and your names will be visible upon it many years to come.”
All three now bent their steps to the beech, where Harry deftly carved his name and the name of his betrothed upon the bark.
“Why, how strange!” cried Mabel when he had finished. Then, taking Kitty by the sleeve, she drew her to the other side of the tree, where, lo! in letters almost obliterated by Time, was written Harry Fletcher—Mabel Willey!