"Anything--this flower!"

"But what would the flower stand for in that case? A little pri--"

"Nothing. Take it!" and she dropped it lightly on my face and
disappeared. As I stood twirling it ecstatically under my nose,
and wondering how I could get her to come back to the window, the
edge of a curtain was lifted, and a white hand stole out and softly
closed the shutters.

In the evening Sylvia went in to a concert of the school, which was
to be held at the Court-house, a chorus of girls being impaneled
in the jury-box, and the principal, who wears a little wig, taking
her seat on the woolsack. I promised to have the very pick of the
garden ready, and told Sylvia to come to the arbor the last thing
before starting. She wore big blue rosettes in her hair, and at
that twilight hour looked as lovely, soft, and pure as moonshine;
so that I lost control of myself and kissed her twice--once for
Georgiana and once for myself. Surely it must have been Sylvia's
first experience. I hope so. Yet she passed through it with the
composure of a graduate of several year's standing. But, then,
women inherit a great stock of fortitude from their mothers in
this regard, and perpetually add to it by their own dispositions.
Ought I to warn Georgiana--good heavens! in a general way, of
course--that Sylvia should be kept away from sugar, and well under
the influence of vulgar fractions?

It made me feel uncomfortable to see her go tripping out of her
front gate on the arm of a youth. Can it be possible the _he_ would