"My dear, it ought not to take anybody of ordinary discernment a minute
and a quarter to perceive that he is simply the dearest fellow that ever
lived," said Rose. "I discovered it three seconds after I first beheld
him, and was desperately in love with him before he had fairly finished
his first bow after introduction."

"And was he equally prompt?" asked Katy.

"He says so," replied Rose, with a pretty blush. "But then, you know, he
could hardly say less after such a frank confession on my part. It is no
more than decent of him to make believe, even if it is not true. Now,
Katy, look at Boston, and see if you don't _love_ it!"

The cab had now turned into Boylston Street; and on the right hand lay
the Common, green as summer after the autumn rains, with the elm arches
leafy still. Long, slant beams of afternoon sun were filtering through
the boughs and falling across the turf and the paths, where people were
walking and sitting, and children and babies playing together. It was a
delightful scene; and Katy received an impression of space and cheer and
air and freshness, which ever after was associated with her recollection
of Boston.

Rose was quite satisfied with her raptures as they drove through Charles
Street, between the Common and the Public Garden, all ablaze with autumn
flowers, and down the length of Beacon Street with the blue bay shining
between the handsome houses on the water side. Every vestibule and
bay-window was gay with potted plants and flower-boxes; and a concourse
of happy-looking people, on foot, on horseback, and in carriages, was
surging to and fro like an equal, prosperous tide, while the sunlight