"Thanks, Miss Lillian, I'll wear your colors with all my heart,
especially today, for it is my birthday." And Paul looked up at the
blooming little face with unusual softness in his keen blue eyes.

"Is it? Why, then, you're seventeen; almost a man, aren't you?"

"Yes, thank heaven," muttered the boy, half to himself.

"I wish I was as old. I shan't be in my teens till autumn. I must give
you something, Paul, because I like you very much, and you are always
doing kind things for me. What shall it be?" And the child held out her
hand with a cordial look and gesture that touched the boy.

With one of the foreign fashions which sometimes appeared when he forgot
himself, he kissed the small hand, saying impulsively, "My dear little
mistress, I want nothing but your goodwill--and your forgiveness," he
added, under his breath.

"You have that already, Paul, and I shall find something to add to it.
But what is that?" And she laid hold of a little locket which had
slipped into sight as Paul bent forward in his salute.

He thrust it back, coloring so deeply that the child observed it, and
exclaimed, with a mischievous laugh, "It is your sweetheart, Paul. I
heard Bessy, my maid, tell Hester she was sure you had one because you
took no notice of them. Let me see it. Is she pretty?"

"Very pretty," answered the boy, without showing the picture.

"Do you like her very much?" questioned Lillian, getting interested in