"Of course, certainly," she repeated quickly; "but," she added, with
a mischievous smile, "you mustn't NOW! Promise me! Promise me that you
won't read this address, but just post the letter, like one of your own,
in the letter-box with the others."

Leonidas promised readily; it seemed to him a great fuss about nothing;
perhaps it was some kind of game or a bet. He opened his sunburnt hand,
holding his own letters, and she slipped hers, face downward, between
them. Her soft fingers touched his in the operation, and seemed to leave
a pleasant warmth behind them.

"Promise me another thing," she added; "promise me you won't say a word
of this to any one."

"Of course!" said Leonidas.

"That's a good boy, and I know you will keep your word." She hesitated
a moment, smilingly and tentatively, and then held out a bright
half-dollar. Leonidas backed from the fence. "I'd rather not," he said
shyly.

"But as a present from ME?"

Leonidas colored--he was really proud; and he was also bright enough to
understand that the possession of such unbounded wealth would provoke
dangerous inquiry at home. But he didn't like to say it, and only
replied, "I can't."

She looked at him curiously. "Then--thank you," she said, offering her
white hand, which felt like a bird in his. "Now run on, and don't let