uncommon enough among well-born and carefully-nurtured specimens
of the human race, and is perhaps still more rarely to be found
among those whose lot in life is one of continuous hard manual
labour. Just now he looked singularly attractive, the more so,
perhaps, because he was unconscious of it. He stretched out one
hand towards the girl and touched the hem of her white frock.

"Are you feeling kind?"

Her eyes lightened with a gleam of merriment.

"I am always kind."

"Not to me! Not as kind as you are to that bird."

"Oh, poor Cupid! You're jealous of him!"

He moved a little nearer to her.

"Perhaps I am!" And he spoke in a lower tone. "Perhaps I am,
Innocent! I grudge him the privilege of lying there on your dear
little white breast! I am envious when you kiss him! I want you to
kiss ME!"

His voice was tremulous,--he turned up his face audaciously.

She looked at him with a smile.

"I will if you like!" she said. "I should think no more of kissing
you than of kissing Cupid!"