with a veranda,--ham and eggs, stewed quince, elderberry wine,--and a
romantic road to ride over."

"I like it."

Frank opened a discussion on fishing; Laura and I withdrew, and went to
the window-seat.

"I am light-hearted," I said.

"It is my duty to be melancholy," she replied; "but I shall not mope
after Frank has gone."

"'After them the deluge,'" said I. "How long will they stay?"

"Till they are bored, I fancy."

"Oh, they are going; we must leave our recess."

Frank and she remained; the others bid us good-night.

"I shall not come again till Christmas," he said. "These college-chaps
will amuse you and make the time pass; they are young,--quite suitable
companions for you girls. _Vive la bagatelle!_"

He sighed, and, drawing Laura's arm in his, rose to go. She groaned
loudly, and he nipped her ears.

"Good-bye, Margaret; let Laura take care of you. There is a deal of
wisdom in her."