any living creature. He pondered and guessed, but no one knew his
thoughts; and this was a crucial thing, the secret of much of his
aloofness.

Section 4. In one of the early boarding-houses there had been a
little girl, and the families had become intimate. But the two
children disliked each other, and kept apart all they could. Thyrsis
was domineering and imperious, and things must always be his way. He
was given to rebellion, whereas Corydon was gentle and meek, and
submitted to confinements and prohibitions in a quite disgraceful
manner. She was a pretty little girl, with great black eyes; and
because she was silent and shy, he set her down as "stupid", and
went his way.

They spent a summer in the country together, where Thyrsis possessed
himself of a sling-shot, and took to collecting the skins of
squirrels and chipmunks. Corydon was horrified at this; and by way
of helping her to overcome her squeamishness he would make her carry
home the bleeding corpses. He took to raising, young birds, also,
and soon had quite an aviary--two robins, and a crow, and a survivor
from a brood of "cherry-birds." The feeding of these nestlings was
no small task, but Thyrsis went fishing when the spirit moved him,
secure in the certainty that the calls of the hungry creatures would
keep Corydon at home.

This was the way of it, until Corydon began to blossom into a young
lady, beautiful and tenderly-fashioned. Thyrsis still saw her now
and then, and he made attempts to share his higher joys with her. He
had become a lover of poetry; once they walked by the seashore, and
he read her "Alexander's Feast", thrilling with delight in its