These little walks together were very pleasant, and on one occasion he
had asked her the question that made her pale and red by turns, and
sent her heart beating with convulsive throbs that made her gasp.

"Maybe I'm over soon in asking you, Mima dear," he faltered,
"but--but, I couldn't wait any longer. You've become a part of my
life. I have no hope, no joy, no thought that you are not of. Won't
you be my wife?"

They were pausing at her gate, and she was trembling from what emotion
he only dared guess. But she did not answer. She only returned the
pressure of his hand, and drawing it away, rushed into the house. She
durst not trust her voice. Bartley went home walking on air.

Mima did not go directly to Mammy Peggy with her news. She must
compose herself first. This was hard to do, so she went to her room
and sat down to think it over.

"He loves me, he loves me," she kept saying to herself and with each
repetition of the words, the red came anew into her cheeks. They were
still a suspicious hue when she went into the kitchen to find mammy
who was slumbering over the waiting dinner. "What meks you so long,
honey," asked the old woman, coming wide awake out of her cat-nap.

"Oh,--I--I--I don't know," answered the young girl, blushing
furiously, "I--I stopped to talk."

"Why dey ain no one in de house to talk to. I hyeahed you w'en you
come home. You have been a powahful time sence you come in. Whut meks
you so red?" Then a look of intelligence came into mammy's fat face,