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UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE.

At sight of him had the pink of her cheeks increased, lessened, or did it continue to cover its normal area of ground? It was a question mediated several hundreds of times by her visitor in after-hours—the meditation, after wearying involutions, always ending in one way that it was impossible to say.

'Your handkerchief: Miss Day: I called with.' He held it out spasmodically and awkwardly. 'Mother found it: under a chair.'

'O, thank you very much for bringing it, Mr. Dewy. I couldn't think where I had dropped it.'

Now Dick, not being an experienced lover—indeed, never before having been engaged in the practice of love-making at all, except in a small schoolboy way—could not take advantage of the situation; and came out the blunder, which afterwards

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