doggy,” she said, stooping down and patting his head. “What a nice sagacious fellow you are! Come here, sir, and give me your paw! Now, shake hands. Doggy, do you like me?” Catch could tell a friend at once; so looking up, he licked her hand, expressing, as intelligently as possible, that he was pleased to make her acquaintance. “How I love dogs!” she ejaculated, rising up again.

“Do you!” said I. “Ah, Miss Clyde! ‘Love me, love my dog.’”

“What nonsense, Mr Lorton!” she said, with a warm blush tinting her cheek. “But, I declare you haven’t wished me the compliments of the season yet. How very ungallant you are! I will set you an example—a merry Christmas, Mr Lorton!”

“A thousand to you, Miss Clyde; and each happier than the last!” I said.

“Oh dear, dear!” she exclaimed in mimic dismay; “I am sure I would not care about having so many as that! Fancy a thousand Christmases—why, what an old, old woman I should be then!”

“And a very nice old woman, too,” said I.

“Merci pour le compliment, Monsieur,” she replied, making me an elaborate curtsey and laughing merrily. “And what have you got there?” she asked, pointing to a little bunch of violets that I was extracting from my overcoat pocket, and which I had procured for her when Catch met his friend the gardener’s dog.

“I got them for you, Miss Clyde,” said I, somewhat bashfully; “and—and—”

“Oh, thank you, Mr Lorton,” she said, quite pleased. “I love violets more than any other flower. You could not have given me a nicer present. I was only wishing for some just now. But, I hear mamma coming down stairs; so, as I’ve not made the tea yet, I must go in—good-bye!”

“Good-bye,” I echoed, clasping her tiny hand in mine. “Good-bye, and many good wishes for the day, my darling!” I courageously added the last two words, lowering my voice over them, as she gently closed the door.

She was not offended, if she had heard the term of endearment I used, for she gave me another nice little bow and smile from the window. Still I think she did hear me. I fancied I saw a conscious look in the dancing grey eyes, a blush yet lingering on her damask cheek.

I went home with joy in my heart—joy which fed upon itself and increased each moment. Don’t you remember what Herder says? Let but the heart once awake, 

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