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UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE.

'Well, then,' said Dick, coming a little to his senses, 'you've been exaggerating very much in giving such a dreadful beginning to such a mere nothing. And I know what you've done it for,—just because of that gipsy-party!' He turned away from her and walked five paces decisively, as if he were alone in a strange country and had never known her. 'You did it to make me jealous, and I won't stand it!' He flung the words to her over his shoulder and then stalked on, apparently very anxious to walk to the colonies that very minute.

'O, O, O, Dick—Dick!' she cried, trotting after him like a pet lamb, and really seriously alarmed at last, 'you'll kill me! My impulses are bad—miserably wicked,—and I can't help it; forgive me, Dick! And I love you always; and those times when you look silly and don't seem quite good enough for me,—just the same, I do, Dick!

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