trick. It always comes back upon them when it makes them look most
foolish.

Archie said nothing, because there was so much he wanted to say, and
he did not know how to begin.

He knew his mother and sister would not like it,--as long as they
could help it, certainly,--therefore he had suddenly made up his
mind that there should be no such interval. He could do as he
pleased; was he not Sir Archibald? And there was his Boston
grandfather's property, too, of which a large share had been left
outright to him; and he had been twenty-one these six months. There
was nothing to hinder; and he meant to tell Rosamond Holabird that
he liked her better than any other girl in the world. Somebody else
would be telling her so, if he didn't; he could see how they all
came round her; perhaps it might be that tall, quiet, cheeky looking
fellow,--that Kincaid. He would be before him, at any rate.

So he stood and twisted his moustache, and said nothing,--nothing, I
mean, except mere little words of assent and echo to Rosamond's
chatter about the pretty view.

At last,--"You are fond of scenery, Miss Holabird?"

Rosamond laughed.

"O yes, I suppose I am; but we don't call this scenery. It is just
pleasantness,--beauty. I don't think I quite like the word
'scenery.' It seems artificial,--got up for outside effect. And the
most beautiful things do not speak from the outside, do they? I