“I feel I have, dear Winny!” replied Thames, abashed at his own rudeness; “my conduct is inexcusable.”
“I'll excuse it nevertheless,” returned the little damsel, affectionately extending her hand to him.
“Why were you afraid to show me this picture, Winny?” asked the youth.
“Because it's not like you,” was her answer.
“Well, like or not, I'm greatly pleased with it, and must beg it from you as a memorial——”
“Of what?” she interrupted, startled by his change of manner.
“Of yourself,” he replied, in a mournful tone. “I shall value it highly, and will promise never to part with it. Winny, this is the last night I shall pass beneath your father's roof.”
“Have you told him so?” she inquired, reproachfully. “No; but I shall, before he retires to rest.”
“Then you will stay!” she cried, clapping her hands joyfully, “for I'm sure he won't part with you. Oh! thank you—thank you! I'm so happy!”
“Stop, Winny!” he answered, gravely; “I haven't promised yet.”