Will there be bags of gold,
Or sparkling gems untold,
All, all for me?
Now my heart cries to thee;
Bring not from o'er the sea
Bright glitt'ring gems for me, nor bags of gold.
I'd rather have a heart,
Mine from all else apart,
From him I'd _never_ part,
Love's more than gold."

Little Sprite Seaford had learned the song in her home by the sea. Its
words were tender, its melody graceful and sweet, but Gwen Harcourt
cared little for music. Her only thought was to startle Sprite. With
this delightful thought in her mind, she waited until Sprite was about
to pass the post, when she slipped to the ground directly in front of
her, causing her to "jump," and drop half of her flowers.

"Oh, how you frightened me!" she cried, as Gwen peeped impudently right
into her face.

"Mustn't be a 'fraidie cat'!" she cried, then--"Here! I'll pick up
your flowers."

With haste she snatched the flowers from the sidewalk, and thrusting
them into Sprite's hand, she said:

"This is where I live. Come in. I want to know you. My name is Gwen
Harcourt. What's yours?"