The alacrity with which she complied was flattering at least, and she led me out on the piazza, that corresponded with my day-dream.

"Zillah," called Mrs. Tocomb to her little girl, "do not bother Emily Warren. She may wish to be alone. Stay with Adah till I am through."

"Oh, mother, please, let me go with Emily Warren. I never have a good time with Adah."

"There, mother, let her have her own way," said Adah, pettishly. "Emily Warren, thee shouldn't pet her so if thee doesn't want to be bothered by her."

"She does not bother me at all," said Miss Warren quietly. "I like her."

The little girl that had been ready to cry turned to her friend a radiant face that was eloquent with the undisguised affection of childhood.

"Zillah evidently likes you, Miss Warren," I said, "and you have given the reason. You like her."

"Not always a sufficient reason for liking another," she answered.

"But a very good one," I urged.

"There are many better ones."

"What has reason to do with liking, anyway?" I asked.

The mirthfulness I had noted before glimmered in her eyes for a moment, but she answered demurely, "I have seen instances that gave much point to your question, but I cannot answer it," and with a slight bow and smile she took her hat from Zillah and went down the path with an easy, natural carriage, that nevertheless suggested the city and its pavements rather than the country.

"What were you two talking about?" asked Adah, with a trace of vexed perplexity on her brow, for I imagined that my glance followed Miss Warren with some admiration and interest.

"You must have heard all we said."

"Where was the point of it?"

"What I said hadn't any point, so do not blame yourself for not seeing it. Don't you like little Zillah? She seems a nice, quiet child."

"Certainly I like her--she's my sister; but I detest children."

"I can't think that you were detested when you were a child."

"I don't remember: I might have been," she replied, with a slight shrug.

"Do you think that, as a child, you would enjoy being detested?"

"Mother says it often isn't good for us to have what we enjoy."

"Undoubtedly your mother is right."

"Well, I don't see things in that way. If I like a thing I want it, and if I don't like it I don't want it, and won't have it if I can help myself."

"Your views are not unusual," I replied, turning away to hide my contracting brow. "I know of others who cherish like sentiments."

"Well, I'm glad to meet with one who thinks as I do," she said complacently, and plucking a half-blown rose that hung near her, she turned its petals sharply down as if they were plaits of a hem that she was about to st.i.tch.

"Here is the first harmonic chord in the sweet congeniality of which I dreamed," I inwardly groaned; but I continued, "How is it that you like Zillah as your sister, and not as a little girl?"

"Oh, everybody likes their brothers and sisters after a fashion, but one doesn't care to be bothered with them when they are little.

Besides, children rumple and spoil my dress," and she looked down at herself approvingly.

"Now, there's Emily Warren," continued my "embodiment of June." "Mother is beginning to hold her up to me as an example. Emily Warren is half the time doing things that she doesn't like, and I think she's very foolish. She is telling Zillah a story over there under that tree. I don't think one feels like telling stories right after dinner."

"Yes, but see how much Zillah enjoys the story."

"Oh, of course she enjoys it. Why shouldn't she, if it's a good one?"

"Is it not possible that Miss Warren finds a pleasure in giving pleasure?"

"Well, if she does, that is her way of having a good time."

"Don't you think it's a sweet, womanly way?"

"Ha, ha, ha! Are you already smitten with Emily Warren's sweet, womanly ways?"

I confess that I both blushed and frowned with annoyance and disappointment, but I answered lightly, "If I were, would I be one among many victims?"

"I'm sure I don't know," she replied, with her slight characteristic shrug, which also intimated that she didn't care.

"Miss Warren, I suppose, is a relative who is visiting you?"

"Oh, no, she is only a music teacher who is boarding with us. Mother usually takes two or three boarders through the summer months, that is if they are willing to put up with our ways."

"I suppose it's correct to quote Scripture on Sunday afternoon. I'm sure your mother's ways are those of pleasantness and peace. Do you think she would take me as a boarder?"

"I fear she'll think you would want too much city style."

"That is just what I wish to escape from."

"I think city style is splendid."

"Why?"

"Oh, the city is gay and full of life and people. I once took walks down Fifth Avenue when making a visit in town, and I would be perfectly happy if I could do so every day."

"Perfectly happy? I wish I knew of something that would make me perfectly happy. Pardon me, I am only a business man, and can't be expected to understand young ladies very well. I don't understand why walking down Fifth Avenue daily would make you happy."

"Of course not. A man can't understand a girl's feelings in such matters."

"There is nothing in New York so beautiful as this June day in the country."

"Yes, it's a nice day: but father says we need more rain dreadfully."

"You have spoiled your rose."